by Frank Perdue
“What do we do now?” The girl said. They were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking at a railroad track that spanned the canyon below. He looked at her. She had a small round birthmark on the lower part of her right cheek. Her two front teeth, which were slightly yellow, would have benefitted from braces, which she didn’t have.
“It’s too far and too hard to go into the canyon and climb back up the other side. Let’s use the track.”
“Okay,” the girl answered.
It was a wide ravine, and there were two supports that extended upward from the canyon floor to intersect the trestle at equidistant points. The two kids made their way across, first Ted and then his companion, stepping slowly from one board to the next; a space of about six inches. They passed one of the supports. There was a crawl space between the tracks, and about four feet below. They continued on.
They were about twenty feet from the second brace when they heard a clanging bell. The sound was coming from behind them, and it was close. They looked back and saw a streetcar nearing the bridge. They quickened their pace but it was dangerous footing. They could only go so fast without falling. They knew they wouldn’t be able to make it to the other side. The streetcar and its’ incessant clanging was fast approaching the trestle. Finally they found safety in the crawlspace of the second support. They climbed in and ducked low, waiting for the streetcar to pass over them. Meanwhile, the streetcar conductor saw the two children on the bridge. He stopped the vehicle, but continued ringing the bell.
Ted couldn’t understand why the streetcar didn’t pass. Finally he looked up to see it stopped just short of the canyon. He couldn’t see the people in the car, but that was probably just as well. He nudged the girl, and they climbed back onto the track boards and made their way to the far side, and safety.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dreams are a phenomena of human life that, even though they are sometimes unexplainable and often unintelligible, people accept. They are questioned at times, and analyzed professionally. In the end, they are rationalized as just another of life’s mysteries, sometimes to be enjoyed, often times to be feared.
Ted wanted to tell his mother about the dreams. He tried once: “Mom, I have to ask you something.”
“Wait ‘til I get these pies out of the oven, Sweetheart, or they’ll burn.”
“Okay.” When she was done, and the pies were safely on the cooling racks, he started again: “Do you have dreams?”
“Sure I do. Everybody does.”
“Are they weird?”
“Some of them are.” She smiled, thinking of some erotic dreams she had had that she didn’t dare tell him about. He was only twelve. She really didn’t think that’s what her son was talking about.
The phone rang. Elaine walked to the wall near the kitchen door leading to the living room where the telephone was hanging, and, picking the instrument up, she put it to her ear and spoke softly into the mouthpiece.
“Hello?” she said. “Oh, hi Mel. Just a minute.” Elaine looked at her son.
“Why don’t you go on out and play, dear. It’s our real estate agent. This may take a few minutes.”
Ted did leave, but it bothered him that his mother didn’t have time for him then. She always did before. He decided not to tell her after all. That would teach her.
That summer of nineteen forty-six started out great. Ted had met some of the neighbor kids at school. He even found a girl he liked. Actually she found him. She lived six blocks away down the hill to the north. Everything was down a hill one way or another. Her name was Pam, and she was from Arkansas. She had a twangy voice that was really cute. Her brother, Joe Bob, was one of his friends from school. He was different, kind of pushy, but he liked to do the same things Ted did; things like throw a football around, look at girls, and go to the beach.
Pam didn’t go to the beach much, even though she had a great body. Her legs were long and slim, and her breasts were more developed than most of the girls her age. That is to say she wasn’t flat. Her skin was white and creamy, and she wanted to keep it that way. Sun tanning wasn’t her thing. She did like to kiss, though. Ted was her kissee of his eighth grade year. She was also twelve, and going into the seventh grade.
On this day Ted and Joe Bob, and their other friend Frenchy (his name was Eric Duprez) decided to go to the beach. Joe Bob rode his bike up to Ted’s house, and the two of them went down the hill toward the beach to Frenchy’s house, which was a couple of blocks from Ted’s. Frenchy’s Mom worked, and he was left alone a lot, so they liked to hang out there. It was a small house. Actually it was more like a cottage. It had two small bedrooms, a good sized kitchen, one bathroom with just a tub, no shower. The living room was not much larger than the bedrooms. A washing machine with a wringer was just outside the back door. The place had been built as a second house, or guest home, on the property, and was set back behind a larger home. There was no yard, except in front of the main house.
Joe Bob and Frenchy were thirteen, and about the same size as Ted. They just automatically assumed that he was a teenager too. He didn’t tell them any different.
They rode their bikes down the walkway from the front of Frenchy’s to the street. They coasted down the hill to the beach, riding up driveways to the sidewalk at times and then flying off curbs back to the street. They always pretended they were daredevils on motorcycles.
The beach at Ocean Bay stretches north to the entrance to Mission Bay, a distance of about seven city blocks. To the south is Sunset Cliffs, a magnificent area of coral rock that extends over a mile, and offers great views to tourists.
Ted and his friends were learning to bodysurf. They were still novices, so they tried to ride the smaller waves that broke closer to shore, and didn’t put them in any danger. That’s what they were doing when Frenchy said “Hey Ted, isn’t that your Dad waving at us?”
Ted scanned the beach and sure enough, his father was standing at the waterline, trying to get his attention. He trudged through the water until it was only ankle deep, and then ran to where the older man stood. “Hi. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“Your mother has been in an accident.” Owen Warner looked very solemn.
“Is she okay?” Ted asked apprehensively, with bad thoughts suddenly running through his mind.
“She’s hurt pretty bad. I’ve come to take you to the hospital. Go get your clothes.
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When Mel called to invite her to join him in looking at a house that had just come on the market, Elaine knew what to expect. She had seen the signs of his attention; the appraising looks when her husband’s back was turned; the follow-up calls, always when Owen was at work. All this attention was disconcerting at first, to say the least. She was not looking to have an affair. She had not considered it. She knew that she was attractive to some men. It flattered her, and soothed her vanity. But she was happily married to the man of her dreams. Then Owen started having mood swings. She felt that perhaps it was
her fault. She tried to cater more to his needs. She spent even more time making herself beautiful for him. She bought clothes that were designed to point out her attributes, and bring out the male animal in him.
Nothing worked. Instead, he began staying late at the shop. He went out of town more often than usual, ostensibly to deal with meat packers in the farm and ranch country to the north. He stopped asking his wife to accompany him on his business trips. When he was in town, he began staying out overnight. By then Elaine felt she had lost him to another woman. She couldn’t bring herself to confront him. If he verified her fears there would be no hope left.
They settled into a relationship of convenience. Elaine would never leave Owen because of Ted. Owen had too much invested in the house to just walk away. They were courteous to one another, especially when their son was around. Sex and lovemaking dwindled in proportion to what Elaine learned about her husband’s philandering.
When the beautiful, captivating redhead from
Ocean Bay agreed to go with him, Mel Proctor could not believe his luck. He was on cloud nine as he pulled up in front of the smart new house on Virginia Street in Ocean Bay. Even he was struck with the view, and he had sold the home in the first place. In fact he had sold many of the wood frame dwellings in the neighborhood.
He practically lept out of his black Packard sedan. He was feeling good, with the Sun nearly overhead, and the prospect of a great afternoon. He had spent a lot of time setting Elaine Warner up, and today was the payoff. It was amazing how he could sense when a housewife was lonely and neglected. It was something in the way they carried themselves. It was also in their eyes. He hadn’t been wrong yet.
He knocked on the door loudly, then moved back a step so as not to frighten Elaine when she answered. It was something he learned through years of selling. He prided himself on the knowledge he had gained that allowed him to earn a living comparable to the college graduates he knew, even though he had quit school in the seventh grade.
He was checking his gray gabardine suit for lint when she finally opened the door.
“You look especially lovely today.” He knew these were words she never heard from her husband, or he probably wouldn’t be in the picture at all.
Elaine responded with a smile and a slight blush. “Why thank you, Mel.” She was ill at ease, and tried not to show it. She was about to say that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, when he reached out and took her hand, saying; “It’s really beautiful out . Shall we go?”
“I can only be gone a few hours.”
“That’s fine.” He reassured her as he released her hand and placed his left arm gently on the small of her back to guide her down the walkway to his car.
“Is this the same car you had the last time you were here?” She was looking around to see if any of the neighbors were out on the street.
“Yes. I’ve ordered a new one. They are just now getting back into production. It took awhile to transform the factory from making war equipment back into a car assembly plant.”
“Oh. Well it looks different somehow.”
She felt a little foolish, trying to make conversation. It had been over twenty years since the last time she was courted.
When they reached the car Mel reached out and opened the back door for her. Elaine looked at him quizzically.
“For the benefit of the neighbors.” He thought of everything.
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Owen decided he had better tell his wife about his illness. It was foolish to think he could keep it from her for too long, anyway. One night he had been careless, and left his nitroglycerin tablets in the bathroom as he was preparing for bed. It was only because he awoke in the middle of the night with heartburn, and got up to get some baking soda for relief, that he stumbled on the vial right in plain sight on the washbasin counter.
He was having second thoughts about his behavior of late. Elaine didn’t deserve to be treated so badly. She had really been a good wife to him all these years. Most of his problems had stemmed from his drinking. He had used the bottle as a form of escape, and it worked. The only problem was, that after a few swigs of hard liquor, he was transformed into someone else; someone even he didn’t like very much. He was just trying to prove something with the women; that his life wasn’t over after all. And there was still fight left in him. It had been nearly a year since his diagnosis. He found that the pills always stopped the pain and tightness he felt when he was heading for an attack. Soon he began to think the doctor had been wrong with his prognosis. He might beat this thing after all. With that rationalization his thoughts turned to reconciling with Elaine.
He took the afternoon off that summer day, trusting the meat market to his only employee, Allan Springer. He could be back in time for closing and cleanup. As he came to his turn at Virginia Street, he was thinking that maybe he and his wife could even get in some sack time before he would have to head back to work. Then he saw the large black Packard pull away from the curb in front of his house. He kept going down the cross street, his mind racing. He didn’t know if they recognized his car or not. He had seen Elaine’s head sticking up over the front seat of the big car. There was no mistaking that flaming red hair. It seemed as though she was in the back seat. That didn’t make sense. He decided to follow them and see what they were up to.
Elaine’s head was turned when their Ford coupe slowly cruised by the corner near their house. Neither she nor her companion saw Owen. Mel was watching his guest as she settled into the large back seat for the drive.
“Don’t get too comfortable back there.” he smiled. “I want you up here with me as soon as we get away from the prying eyes of any neighbors.” He thought that was a nice touch. She should appreciate the fact that he was thinking of her reputation. He would definitely take advantage of that appreciation when they arrived at their destination.
They had only gone a mile or so when the Packard pulled over to a curb. Owen thought he had been spotted. He too pulled to the right and stopped. The back door opened and his wife got out. She pulled open the front door, climbed in, and slid across the bench seat until she was in the middle.
Proctor thought of putting his hand on her left leg. He decided against it, for he would need his right hand to shift gears. He started the car and slowly moved into the light traffic, heading east. Neither of them noticed the blue Ford coupe trailing them.
“It’s called Cajon Glen, where we’re going.” Proctor anticipated her question.
They were out in the country now. There were rolling hills and no houses in sight.
“How much farther is it, Mel?” Elaine was becoming nervous, and having second thoughts, as his hand found her left leg just below the hem of her dress.
“Just about five minutes.” Mel answered as he turned off the main highway and headed northeast. His hand became more aggressive as they reached a long straightaway where he knew he wouldn’t have to shift for a while. She could feel the warmth under the hem of her dress. She began to wish she had worn stockings and a girdle, but it was so warm out.
Elaine felt a thump, and all of a sudden the car began to shake slightly. She looked out the window, and as the road stretched straight ahead on a slight incline, she could see that they were traveling on dirt now. Mel slowed accordingly.
“This development is just over the next rise.” He said. “You’ll love the setting. It’s about twenty-five houses, all with a great view of the valley below. None of them are occupied yet.”
When she realized that they would be isolated up there, Elaine really had a panic attack. Mel’s hand was at the top of her left thigh, and his fingers were groping under her panties.
“I can’t do this.” She mouthed, so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.
What?”
She reached down and put both hands on his right wrist, pulling his hand away from her body. She slid away from him on the seat until her right side was pressed against the door. With her right elbow she inadvertently pushed down on the door handle as she tried to get as far away from him as she could. The door opened.
Mel Proctor slammed on the brakes as soon as he saw what was happening with the door. He reached for her, but the car was too wide and his hand only brushed her shoe as she fell out of the car onto the dirt road.
Elaine hit the ground flat on her back. She passed out, as her brain fought against the pain she surely would have felt as the skin was being torn from her back to expose bloody flesh. The only thing that saved her from instant death was that the car had slowed appreciably by the time she tumbled from the half open door.
When Mel tried to stop Elaine from falling from the car, his left hand which was on the steering wheel, instinctively pulled down on the instrument. The motion caused the vehicle to veer to the left. When he looked out the windshield, all he could see was open space as the front wheel on his side left the road. He was still in a slow slide caused by the locking of the car’s brakes. His right foot was pressed onto the brake pedal as forcef
ully as his leg strength would allow. Were it not for the unpaved road, surely the Packard would have come to a stop. But the pea-sized rocks imbedded in the hard dirt acted like ball-bearings. The weight of the big car made it all the harder to overcome its forward motion. Mel turned the wheel sharply back to the right. It was too late. The rear left wheel slipped over the edge of the roadway. The steepness of the sloping hill caused the car, with Mel Proctor still in it, to roll on its side, and continue tumbling over and over until it reached the valley floor some two hundred feet below.
All the gasoline was forced from the carburetor by centrifugal force before the battered vehicle came to a stop. Strangely, the gas tank didn’t rupture. There was no fire. It made no difference as the man inside the compartment was mercilessly battered against the sides and overhead of the passenger cubicle. Perhaps because of the engineering that went into the expensive car, none of the doors opened; neither the driver’s side door, either rear door, or the passenger-side door, which had slammed shut when the automobile began its roll. Ironically, Mel Proctor’s ego, which had caused him to buy the huge car in the first place, was eventually his undoing. With a cheaper, smaller car, it would not have taken as long to stop, and he might not have gone over the cliff at all. That, however, was just the speculation of investigators, and in the end it didn’t really matter. The real estate agent/lover was quite dead.
CHAPTER SIX
There’s no secret to the formula for World Peace. Every single person in the whole universe must realize that he or she is different than every other person. That difference is not necessarily better or worse, just not the same. After that understanding, he or she, or this political ideology or that race or your neighbor or relative, must talk to each other and find common ground on which to build a friendly relationship. Simple, right?
Ted Warner and his father did not understand each other. And they wouldn’t talk about it. Owen Warner believed that he set the rules for his family to live by, and they must abide by those rules. That was the natural order of things. His ideas regarding others with different origins must be taken as fact, not opinion.
