As soon as it was warm enough, usually no later than April, he put away winter's long sleeves in favor of a white t-shirt with the short sleeves rolled up to better display the honed biceps and rounded shoulders left over from his football days. A pair of blue jeans with wide cuffs held up by an ultra thin, real-leather alligator belt, and brown loafers with white socks rounded out his dad's summer time wardrobe. And of course, Ted never got in a car without his pair of ultra dark, aviator-style sunglasses. Lee would be the first to admit that he had one of the coolest looking dads around.
Small businesses were spaced out regularly along the right side of the highway. Mostly auto repair shops, construction yards and various service companies ran along this stretch of highway, separated by vacant lots with scrubby brush and here and there a scraggly, wide open horse pasture. To the left were the swampy thickets and scrub of Broaddus Marsh, which ran north from Seminole road. Little by little the marsh gave way gradually thinning out into dry land the further north they drove.
In about five minutes, at the speed Ted was going, they crossed over the old bridge and entered into Lenoir proper. Here, stores and gas stations, used car lots and offices, and little restaurants and burger shacks lined both sides of the road.
They came to a stop at a red light at an intersection with Payton's Esso service station on one corner and the Dairy Dream hamburger stand on the other. An attendant wearing a clean uniform was filling a car at the pumps, while another cleaned the windshield. Looking around, Lee recognized Carl Willis in front of one of the garage bays just as the rangy youth lifted open the hood of big, black Buick. Carl still had on the blue work shirt with the name Lonnie stenciled over the pocket, and a cigarette was hanging low from his lips.
The light changed to green, and they moved ahead, just as Carl looked Lee's way and they made eye contact.
Caught up in the slow moving, early evening traffic, they were forced to plod along at 15 miles per hour. Ted impatiently banged his thumb against the steering wheel and slumped down even lower. After the speed they had made coming in, it seemed to Lee like they weren't even moving at all.
On the left, just another block up from the gas station Lee spotted Wren's Boutique, the dress shop owned by Art's mother. Art's mom's pink Cadillac was parked out front along with a couple of other cars Lee didn't recognize, but since they looked new and expensive, obviously they were owned by women who lived in the Bluffs. Glancing in at the dresses on display in the windows, to Lee it was as foreign a world as he could imagine. He felt those pangs of self-consciousness just looking at it, the same as he did when Maggie made him accompany her to the women's section in a department store.
In a few minutes they had worked their way in to the center of town. They passed the red brick police station with its towering, red, and white antenna on the roof. It was right next door to the fire station, the gleaming, red ladder truck, as always, was backed in and facing out to the street. A couple of the firemen were outside playing basketball at a goal built by the cement slab to the side of the drive where they stretched and dried the wet hoses after a fire.
Ted wheeled the Ford onto Main St., where a manicured center esplanade divided the widened main drag. They passed the Carolina Theatre with its incredible neon sign. An employee Lee recognized as one of the ushers was changing the letters up on the marquee, stretching up with a long pole with a suction cup on the end as he set the letters. It read as they passed: “Next Week John Way..."
Patterson's, the big department store, was just off of the town's square. The square itself was really a park, which was two blocks by two blocks and set dead center in the heart of Lenoir. The well-fertilized grass, immense Azalea bushes, and fiery Crepe Myrtles were neat and well trimmed. In the center of the park was a marble-columned bandstand, ringed in by four civil-war era cannons, one pointing towards each direction of the compass. A cement walkway, lined with wrought iron park benches on either side, and spaced with wire trashcans, circled the interior of the green expanse. Across from the southern side of the square was the courthouse with its monument to the Confederacy at the base of the steps. The local chapter of the Daughters of Confederate Soldiers had donated the statue, which was sitting atop a red granite base. The ladies had been terribly upset after the bra incident. And what made it even worse was that it appeared Lee's gag had started a tradition; destined to be repeated at least three or four times a year.
The benches in the park were mostly full, as on any nice evening the elderly men of Lenoir, some in pressed denim overalls and others in white shirts and bow ties, gravitated here to chat and play checkers. A number of the men kept brown paper bags by their feet and would occasionally take a drink from whatever it was they had secreted inside. There were also a number of young families around with small children, who brought their kids to play on the swing sets, teeter-totters and the jungle gym designed to resemble a fire engine.
Ted pulled into one of the angled parking slots about half a block away from Patterson's as this was the closest spot they could get. Leaving their windows down like all of the other cars lined up facing the storefronts, they stepped up on the sidewalk and strolled along side by side.
Lee always enjoying looking into Patterson's display windows with their rigid manikins frozen with their awkward arms, splayed fingers, and vacant eyes peering back out at no one from behind the glass. As a little kid, he'd always thought they were real people; and even now, he still found he sometimes expected them to move. Having seen the little sewing house at the Ballard estate he was struck by the similarity of the appearance. The still air and cloistered presence suddenly reminded him of how one of those snow globes look, just before you shake it up.
Lee could never remember entering through the heavy double glass doors without feeling a twinge of excitement. Every Christmas, for as long as he could remember, he had seen Santa here and had had his picture taken on his knee. Except for last Christmas, when he had insisted that he was too big. Mostly everything they owned, it seemed, had come from Patterson's: their last refrigerator, the new T.V., his baseball glove and football, even his first bike had all once been inside this wonderful place.
And inside, it was a world all its own. It even smelled all new and alive inside. And almost always there was the rich, buttery aroma of popcorn, coming from the snack bar near the escalators. It didn't make any difference where you were in that store, when they had just popped a fresh batch, you could smell it.
Overhead, pneumatic tubes crisscrossed throughout the ceiling, always terminating at a cash register. The tubes wove their way amongst a myriad of whirling ceiling fans, which hung low from long extensions, and moved at a blur, working hard to keep the customers cool. The tubes had always fascinated Lee. One of the most wonderful things about any purchase was when the clerk stuck the paperwork in the metal tube, pulled the chain's handle, and the cylinder inside whooshed away like a rocket into space.
Ted had stopped just inside the doors and was looking at a toolbox display.
"Come on dad,” Lee said impatiently. “Let's get on the escalator.” Toys and sporting goods were on the second floor; Lee knew the layout by heart.
"Just a second,” his dad replied. “I want to look at this."
Waiting for his dad, he watched carefully, hoping to spy the source of the intensely bright light, which leaked out from a crack between the escalator's rising steps and the floor. As each next step ascended up, one immediately following the other, a greenish-white light was revealed coming from somewhere down within. Why or how, he hadn't a clue.
When his dad was ready, he timed his jump to catch the grooved step just at the moment it emerged, so he could thrill with the ease with which it whisked him up and away. Like a ride at the carnival, it was best if you had a step all to yourself and didn't use your hands to hold on.
Taking off as soon as he hit the second floor, Lee was already to the sporting goods section and astride his new bike before his Dad caught up. Ted drove fast and pl
ayed hard, but he always said he'd never walk anywhere faster than James Dean would. It just wasn't cool. Unsuccessfully, he'd tried to teach Lee, that some things were best when they were done slowly.
"Here it is, Dad!” Lee beamed, pushing the bike out into the aisle, his tiptoes just barely touching the floor. “This is the one!"
Ted reached into his back pocket and drew out a black, plastic comb. He smoothed his hair back, a customary three strokes to the top and sides while he appraised the shiny, red 26” Schwinn.
"It's a beauty,” Ted said, and threw in a short whistle of appreciation. “You know, son, they never had anything quite as cool as that when I was a kid."
Lee tried to balance on it like he was riding, but the tires didn't have enough air and squeezed flat, making a squishing sound on the polished floor as he jerked at the handlebars attempting to maintain his balance.
"Careful son, you'll cut a tire with the rim,” advised his dad.
A salesman, sweating in a wool jacket, had spotted the two and must have known an opportunity when he saw it. He straightened his bow tie as he closed in.
"Good evening. Y'all looking for something in a bicycle?"
The man didn't even come up to Ted's shoulder and couldn't possibly have weighed a hundred pounds.
Lee looked expectantly to his dad.
"Could be,” Ted came back, pulling out his comb again and giving his hair another pass so that his biceps bulged out. “My boy here's been cuttin’ lawns and workin’ ‘round the house."
Ted let himself sound like he'd just come out of the back woods. He'd always told Lee that when you went to buy something it paid to talk and dress down.
The salesman, whose name badge said, “Jimmy,” focused on Lee.
"Good choice, young man.” Jimmy almost started to reach out to tousle Lee's hair but thought better of it. Lee was almost as tall as he was, and his instincts must have warned him at the last minute that he'd do best keep his hands to himself.
"What's a bike like this gonna’ run us?” asked Ted, even though the price tag was plainly dangling off the right handlebar.
The clerk caught the white tag and turned it up. “This model is thirty-six dollars. Plus tax, of course,” he added."
Ted took a judicious moment to think it over. “Any discount if we buy the floor model?"
"No sir. Sorry. If this was the last one, I might be able to get the department manager to knock off a few percent, but we've just got a new shipment in.” Jimmy let the tag dangle, then added, “And this one's already been assembled."
Ted rubbed the evening stubble on his chin. “Assembly ain't included?"
Jimmy shook his head.
"How much is that gonna run us?"
"An additional three dollars."
"What about batteries for that light? Does it come with batteries?"
Jimmy shook his head. “It takes four double D's. But batteries aren't included, either."
Ted allowed another pause, then slowly reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. He rubbed his chin with one hand while holding the billfold in front of the clerk.
"This here's the one you want, huh, boy?"
Lee looked down to the white wall tires, the fenders with their chrome emblems, and the front headlight assembly shaped like something off of an airplane. His face made any answer unnecessary.
"I tell you what I'll do, Jimmy,” said Ted, lifting his sunglasses back to sit atop his hair. Suddenly his redneck accent was gone. “You include assembly of a new one, fresh outta the box, and I'll pay you cash on the barrel head, right here, right now, thirty-six dollars, plus tax."
Lee almost fell off the bike.
Both Jimmy and Ted turned, distracted from their ritual while Lee regained his balance.
Jimmy faced Ted and smiled. “Let me go check with the manager."
"You go right on ahead.” Ted patted his billfold against his palm with a flat whack. “See what you can do about those batteries, too. I don't want my boy riding around in the dark. He might get run over."
As soon as Jimmy was gone, Lee got off the bike and pushed it back into its slot.
"Dad, I haven't got the money tonight."
Ted put his wallet back in his pocket and grabbed Lee, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and shaking him.
"Don't worry about it. You pay me back when Mrs. Ballard pays you. Thursday right?"
Lee nodded.
A few minutes later Jimmy came hustling back, his hard soles clicking on the floor. As soon as Lee saw the clerk's face he knew the bike was his.
Once at the register, Ted peeled out the money, licking his thumb between every bill, as he peeled them out and set them on the counter. Though he was paying, he insisted on Lee filling out the receipt in his own name.
Dimly, Lee remembered Jimmy instructing him that the bike would be ready to be picked up the day after tomorrow. He watched intently as the carbon copy forms were rolled up, pressed in the cylinder, loaded in the tube, and whooshed away. He was so happy, he didn't even mind when his dad insisted on making a run to the doll aisle, where Ted picked up a long eared, guaranteed huggable, velvety brown puppy for Patty.
Their next stop was in house wares, where Ted picked up a couple of boxes of fresh light bulbs. Then, after coming down the escalator, they stopped at the snack bar and got a box of popcorn to share on the way home. To the side of the snack bar was the display of vacuum cleaners. At each corner of the dark carpet, the salesman used to demonstrate the power of the machines was positioned a Hoover canister model vacuum cleaner, with the metal tube at the end of the hose propped up vertically. Above each, supported by a jet of air and twirling around, was a beach ball. Lee found himself fascinated by the display. Too bad they only had an upright vacuum cleaner. If they had had a canister model, he'd have tried to reproduce the trick, first thing, once he got home.
Outside it was a gorgeous evening; the sky, though graying, was a crisp blue and the air was cool and incredibly sweet. Maybe it was that the honeysuckle had suddenly started to bloom, or someone in the park had just cut into a crisp, cold watermelon, but that sweet summertime flavor was in the air. The evening had changed since they went into the store. People they passed seemed happier, the sounds of the kids playing in the park rang out brightly, and there just wasn't any dad in the world that could hold a candle to his dad.
It was almost completely dark by the time Ted wheeled the Ford into the driveway. They'd gone out for a cruise, and really opened the Ford up out on the highway. On the long, straight stretch to Manseville Ted had gotten the Fairlane up to a hundred and five. The fence posts had become a blur and the white stripes a single line. Lee had held on, gripping the dash, loving every second of it. More than once, Ted had passed cars, blasting past, like they weren't even moving at all, and both of them whooping and hollering just like a couple of rednecks. Heading back into town they'd stopped in at the Meal Time diner, and Ted had a beer while Lee had chocolate malt. Eileen, their favorite waitress, wasn't there, so they didn't hang around, “shooting the shit,” as his dad liked to call it.
Coming back down Seminole Road, Lee had still been so excited by the thrill of the speed he hadn't even really paid attention to where he was, talking a mile a minute with his dad. As they suddenly arrived back at their own house Lee noticed the Riley's had their front door open. The light was streaming out in a big yellow wedge angling out onto their ragged front lawn through the screen door. Once out of the car, he could hear the garble of a T.V. going and a baby crying, the sounds of both carrying clear across street.
Ted had held the surprise for Patty behind his back when they came in. She was sitting in front of the T.V.. It was easy to see, she had not been happy about staying home.
"Patty. Look what followed us home,” Ted said, just after coming in the door.
Reluctantly, Patty turned her pouty face to her dad.
Ted held out the stuffed animal.
Patty's expression changed immediately. She
leapt up from her cross-legged position without even using her hands. She made a beeline, just missing the coffee table with her knee and seized the stuffed puppy, and squealed, “Lucky Pup!"
Maggie, who had been waiting, smiled brightly and said coyly, “Well, how'd it go? It sure took you two a while.” It hit Lee right then that the trip to Patterson's had been planned. This was one of those rare times when she was more a Mom than just a Maggie. “Did you get the bike?” she added.
"Yeah mom!” Lee was still overly excited by it all. “Oh, you should see it. It's got a light and everything!"
Ted tousled his hair passing him by on his way to sit down next to Maggie. “We got them to throw in assembly and four free batteries, too. Didn't we son?"
"Dad was keen-o,” Lee beamed. “We'll pick it up Thursday. Right dad?"
Ted put his arm around Maggie and nodded. “Come rain or shine."
"Oh, Lee.” Maggie scooted out from under Ted's embrace and scooted down at the foot of the sofa next to Patty who was back on the floor in front of the T.V.. Maggie reached out and took a turn at stroking Lucky Pup's soft, silky ears, while they were still soft and silky. “Ronnie and a couple of the other boys stopped by while you were at Patterson's."
"What'd they want?” Lee flopped down in the big chair hanging his legs sideways over the arm.
"He said to make sure you show up over at Art's on Friday. They've got a big game set up. You know, you ought to give Ronnie a call. I told him I didn't know if you would still be working at Mrs. Ballard's or not."
Lee jumped up from the chair he'd just sat down in, and ran over to the phone mounted on the wall. He dialed in Ronnie's number, spinning the dial around quickly with his finger: Regency 8, fifty-two, six.
Evil Heights, Book I: The Midnight Flyer Page 25
