A Different Kind of Blues

by Gwynne Forster

  “You just had a vacation. Ever since I promoted you and gave you a raise, you’ve been acting weird. I need you, babe, but you sure as hell are not indispensable. Anybody who’s willing to sit still seven hours a day can do your job. I wish to hell I hadn’t fired Gail.”

  “You said she was incompetent.”

  “Don’t tell me what I said. I fired her because she was screwing Sally.”

  “That was no skin off your teeth, Jack. She’s not your type.”

  “How do you know what my type is?” he roared. Suddenly he stood up and shook his right index finger at her. “I ought to fire you, and I just might. You can have the leave, but without pay. I’m not a gold mine.”

  She had what she wanted, time to see a few things she had always wanted to see. She surprised herself when she hugged Jack and kissed him on his left cheek.

  “Hey, what the hell! Is that some kind of test? You know damned well I’m not gay.”

  “What? I wanted you to know that I appreciate your kindness.”

  “Yeah? Well, keep it between the lines. How’d I know what you meant? It wasn’t the kiss I felt. You women forget about those soft things sticking out in front of you. Be sure and let me know where you’ll be in case I need to ask you a question, so take your cell phone with you.”

  She wasn’t going to do any such thing. After making certain that she left nothing pending on her desk, she removed all her personal things and, at four o’clock that afternoon, walked out and didn’t look back.

  On her way home, she stopped by Dwill’s department store, and went to the linen shop. She couldn’t have been more proud as she watched Krista at work. Somehow, her daughter had developed poise and gracious manners; if need be, she could take care of herself. She didn’t want to leave without her daughter’s forgiveness, so she would try one more time.

  “Krista, I’m going to take a few weeks leave from the office.

  I’m tired, and I think I’ll go out West and see a few things I’ve always wanted to see. Your grandmother will stay with you while I’m gone.” She was careful not to say, “till I get back,” because she didn’t know whether she would. “I don’t want to leave here knowing that you haven’t forgiven me, Krista. I’m not offering excuses. Goodman doesn’t hold it against me, but you do. Can you forgive me?”

  “Where on the West Coast are you going?”

  “I don’t know. Wherever I get an urge to go.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  She looked at Krista, so self-assured and confident. “I’m serious. Are you going to tell me whether you forgive me?”

  Krista lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. “You did what you had to do, so I don’t hold it against you. When are you leaving?”

  “Soon as I can pack and Mama can arrange to stay with you. Maybe day after tomorrow.”

  “Where you going first?”

  “Probably the Grand Canyon or Mount Rushmore. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I wish I knew what had come over you. You wouldn’t spend a dime to go to the circus, and now you’re planning to run all over the country. Well, I hope you have a good time. Stay in touch. I gotta get back to work.” She brushed Petra’s cheek with her lips. “Behave yourself now, Mom.”

  Petra went home and called her mother. “Mama, I’d like to leave day after tomorrow. Do you think you can come over tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be over there about six. I’m on the seven to three shift, and unless some of the RNs call in sick, I’ll be on this shift for at least the next month. I thought you just had a vacation. Anything wrong with you?”

  She wasn’t in the habit of lying to her mother, and she wouldn’t do it now. “This scene is getting to me, Mama, and I feel like I’ll cave in if I don’t get some relief from it. I hope you can get Krista off her high horse.”

  “Of course I will. She’d better not act out with me. I don’t understand it. She was always such a sweet and obedient child. Well, I guess the chickens coming home to roost. What goes around comes around. See you tomorrow.”

  Petra hung up and expelled a long, cleansing breath. “God forbid I should ever be as sanctimonious as my mother.” If Krista didn’t hold it against her, did that mean she forgave her? She’d probably never know.

  Two days later, Petra took the commuter train to the Baltimore/Washington International Airport and boarded a flight to Rapid City, South Dakota. She’d never been so far from home or so far out of the reach of anyone she knew, but nonetheless, she experienced complete confidence.

  “What’s a good hotel?” she asked a woman at the information desk in the airport. The woman looked into a drawer and handed Petra a card.

  “Either of these two will be good and not too expensive. You can get a little bus out front that goes to both of them. I’d call first. Lots of tourists in town right now.”

  Petra chose the bed and breakfast and was given a room that faced the Black Hills. After unpacking, she raced down to the woman who seemed to own the hotel and asked directions to Mount Rushmore.

  “Better wait till tomorrow morning. Mr. Robinson will be going then. It might be more interesting to go with someone who’s already been there. He’s one of our roomers. A nice gentleman.”

  She didn’t want to meet Mr. Robinson or any other nice gentleman. She had learned that one person’s nice could be somebody else’s nasty. However, when she entered the dining room for supper that evening, she saw only one other person, a blond man of about fifty. “Why don’t you sit over there with Mr. Robinson?” the waiter said. “You’re the last two, and anyway, Mr. Robinson loves to have company.”

  When she hesitated, the waiter said, “Come on, miss,” took her place setting, and urged her to accompany him to the table at which the man sat.

  “Mr. Robinson, this is Ms. Fields. She’s from Maryland.” Robinson stood and extended his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to join me, Ms. Fields. I’m always alone, and there’s nothing I hate more.”

  She sat down, wondered about his accent, and decided that an appropriate question about it would serve to start the conversation. “How do you do, Mr. Robinson? I’m trying to place your accent. Is it Italian?”

  She liked his smile, warm and friendly. “No, my dear, I’m from Scotland in northern Europe. I’ve always wanted to see Mount Rushmore, and when I learned that my sight is failing, I dropped everything and decided to see it while I could.”

  Shock reverberated throughout her system. She hadn’t expected to meet a kindred soul. Compassion welled up in her. Imagine a man who hated being alone having to live in darkness. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Robinson. Have you seen it yet?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been over there at least a dozen times, and I can tell you the trip here was worth it. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. What do you do in Maryland?”

  “I’m office manager in a real estate office, or I was. I don’t know about the future.”

  “That’s something you should never worry about,” he said, “’cause you can’t count on it.” They went to the lounge and talked until the lights dimmed at midnight. “Will I meet any Native Americans while I’m here?” she asked him. His smile reminded her of her grandfather’s patient and slow smile. “I don’t see how you can avoid it unless you close your eyes. The Sioux are all over the place.”

  After breakfast the next morning, Petra left the hotel with Mr. Robinson. Walking along the Avenue of Flags, the sixty-foot-high carvings of the four presidents’ faces loomed before her, and she stopped, awed. “Mr. Robinson, this is unbelievable. It’s awesome.”

  “I know,” he said, taking her hand. “I can’t get enough of this view. For me, it’s one of the great wonders of the world.”

  She squeezed his fingers, empathizing, for she understood well how he felt. For the next three days, they visited the “Shrine of Democracy,” as the great memorial is known, and many of the surrounding areas. She delighted in their strolls along Presidential Trail and visits to the museums, and once they enjoyed
a picnic beneath a tree that seemed to reach to the heavens.

  She watched the man, marveling at his apparent contentment in the face of his coming tragic ordeal. He chewed slowly on a hotdog, savoring it as if he had all the time he could want. She reached for his hand and held it. “I’m glad I met you. You’re thankful for what you have while you have it, and that’s a lesson I appreciate.”

  “Thanks, Petra. I was wishing I had met you fifteen or twenty years ago, when I would still have had years and years to enjoy your beauty and your radiant personality, but I’m grateful for having met you at all and for these days we’re spending together.”

  “It’s time I left here,” she said to herself on the fourth day of her visit, “before I get into trouble. Worse still, I could cause trouble. I shouldn’t let a stray cat fall for me.” When they returned to the hotel, she booked a flight to Las Vegas, Nevada.

  She told him good-bye at breakfast the next morning, but as she walked away, she stopped, turned, and looked back at one of the sweetest men she had ever met. Maybe…No, she couldn’t. Her soul was in enough trouble as it was.

  “What you gon’ do in Vegas?” her seatmate, a middle-aged black woman clothed from head to foot in imitation Kente cloth, asked Petra. “Y’all work your tail off for a few pennies and give it all right back to The Man. Won’t catch me doing it.” The woman patted the back of her head wrap and settled confidently into her seat.

  “Do you live in Las Vegas?” Petra asked the woman.

  “I live in Alabama. This is my vacation. I followed the same route every year for the last twenty-three. After I see Mount Rushmore and pay tribute to our great presidents, especially Mr. Jefferson, I visit Old Faithful in Yellowstone Park. I tell you, those geysers are really something. Then, I always stop by Vegas on the way back home just to play the slot machines.”

  Petra turned fully to face the woman. “Are you saying that’s not gambling?”

  “Of course it isn’t,” the woman said, her tone upbraiding Petra for her ignorance. “Poker is gambling. I’d never stoop to that.”

  “Poor ignorant me,” Petra said beneath her breath. “I always thought betting and gambling were the same.”

  “If you’ve never been to Vegas, be careful,” the woman advised. “You’re young, and if you get into those gambling joints, those men will have your clothes off you in a minute. You won’t catch me playing poker and having to take off my clothes in front of a bunch of men. I have too much pride for that.”

  And enough ignorance and misinformation to match it. Petra found an aspirin in her pocketbook, asked the steward for a glass of water, took the medicine to ease her headache, and slept. However, she soon awakened when a male voice inquired whether she wanted coffee or another drink. “Ginger ale, please,” she said to the steward.

  “I’ll have a gin and tonic,” her seatmate said. “May as well get in the mood for Vegas.”

  “That’ll be five dollars,” the man said.

  “Humph. One finger of gin ain’t never been worth no five dollars. I’ll pay you five for two of those tiny little bottles.”

  “Uh…sorry, ma’am, but the price is fixed.”

  “Y’all got a lot to learn about Vegas,” the woman said to the steward as she accepted the drink and parted with a five-dollar bill. “A little gin makes a woman relax; two of ’em makes her very cooperative.” She handed the steward her business card, and when he let it drop to the floor, Petra picked it up and read: “Sister Annie. Fulfilling all your needs for spiritual counsel, etc.”

  “Pardon me, sir. I think she meant for you to have this.” Petra tapped the steward on the arm and handed him the card.

  The man glared at her. “You’re not serious.”

  What a woman! Maybe Mama isn’t so bad, Petra thought, at least when compared to this woman. She’d begun to wonder why she chose to spend some of her last precious days in Las Vegas when she had several other places she wanted to go. By that doctor’s count, time was at a premium. Except for her headaches and an occasional lack of energy, she still couldn’t complain.

  She checked into her hotel room, went to the window, and gazed down on the famous Strip. What the devil was she doing in Las Vegas? After unpacking, she wandered down to the game room and walked around.

  “Like some company?” a tall man, who looked as if he’d never worked, asked her. Her gaze clung to his hair, slick, straight, and shiny. No black man in Ellicott City, Maryland, would walk around with hair looking like that. His black suit, black shirt, and red tie complemented his hair style, and that, along with his diamond left ear stud marked him as a man on the make and the take. She wanted company badly, but if she’d been only ten years old, she would have known to avoid guys such as that one. Feeling clever, she smiled and said, “I’m neither giving nor selling. What about you?”

  After quickly erasing a frown, the man said, “Me neither. Business is lousy. Let’s take the escalator down to the next level and get a milk shake or something. That’s about all I can afford.”

  “Did you gamble your money away?” she asked, falling into step with him.

  “Naah. I’m not stupid enough to do that; I throw it away on another habit.”

  “Alcohol and drugs?”

  “I’ve just given up drugs, but I’m in debt up to here.” He sliced the air above his head. “I quit because my mother asked me with practically her last breath, and I promised her I would. If you owe these guys and you don’t pay, somebody will find you lying in a vacant lot. What’s got you? Something weighing you down?”

  “This is the first time I’ve been away from home,” she said, “and I guess it shows.” She didn’t intend to show the world a suffering face. The knowledge of it hurt more than whatever ailment she had.

  “Oh, I could see that you’re different.” He ordered two raspberry milk shakes, and they sat on high stools at the milk bar and talked for several hours.

  “I know this town,” he told her after they had talked for a while, “and I think you should leave here. You don’t know me from beans, and you’ve been with me for over two hours. By now, some dudes would have had your jewelry, credit cards, ID, and your cash, and you wouldn’t even suspect them.

  “Go back to Maryland, Petra, while you can. If you don’t, you’ll be beholden to some guy who’ll steal all you have, then befriend you, obligate you to him, and put you on the street. You can’t imagine how many women in this town fell into that trap. All this glitter is great when you’re loaded with money, but when you’re down and out, it’s a snake pit. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Thanks, Bill. I’ll be careful.” She put fifteen dollars on the table. “The shakes are on me.” The man was pleasant enough, but she was not going to hang out with a loser.

  Wishing that she had spent at least a day at Yellowstone Park in Wyoming, she walked through the elegant shops in the hotel’s promenade until tired and then went back to her room. She hadn’t left home looking for a good time or even to enjoy herself; she’d merely wanted to see some of the things she had always wanted to experience in person. So far, she didn’t regret her decision. She ordered her dinner there, enjoyed it, watched an old Ethel Waters movie, The Member of the Wedding, and went to bed.

  “I wish something would happen. I’m getting so tired of waiting.”

  The next morning, she took a bus tour of the city, then checked out of the hotel and took a train to Arizona. Sedona was supposed to be the most beautiful city in the United States, and people said the Grand Canyon was the most spectacular place. “You taking the train all the way to the Grand Canyon?” a woman asked her as they sat in the station waiting to board. “You must have a lot of time on your hands.”

  “On the contrary,” Petra said. “Time is what I don’t have, but clouds are all I can see from a plane. I won’t be coming this way again, so I want to see what this part of the country is like.”

  “Red dirt. I’d be happy if I never saw it again.”

  Since beginning
her journey, Petra had learned that if you didn’t agree with a person, a smile sufficed. If she’d learned that earlier, she might have had a smoother relationship with her mother. Instead, she had caused friction by expressing her opinions and insisting that she was right. So she smiled at the woman who hated red dirt, went to the newsstand for a paper, and changed her seat.

  By the time she boarded the train, she was too tired to care who sat beside her, but relief swept over when a young woman, apparently in her late twenties, with very little luggage sat next to her. She noticed at once the woman’s makeup-free skin, so tender and flawless that it seemed about to burst.

  “I’m Greta,” the woman said. “I hope you’re going to the Grand Canyon and that you’ll let me share the experience with you.”

  Alerted by the woman’s precise speech and gentle manners, Petra asked her, “Are you going there for a special reason?”

  “Oh, yes. I want to see all the things I’ve always wanted to see and do the things I’ve missed, so that I’ll be content when I take the next step. I believe I’m doing what I’m called to do, but when I leave all this behind, I don’t want to think what if…. Not ever.”

  “Are you getting married?” Petra asked her. After all, some religions restricted a woman’s movements after she married.

  What a beautiful smile! “Oh, in a way. I’m entering a convent. My father doesn’t approve, and he said I should see the world and be sure. I know he has a point, so I decided to take this trip. Are you on vacation?”

  Petra thought for a few seconds. She was at the point in her life where lying didn’t make sense. “Not really,” she said. “I’m completing…or rather, I’m finishing up things. I’d hoped to see Sedona, but I don’t know how far it is from the Grand Canyon.”

  “According to my guidebook, it’s one hundred and ten miles,” Greta said. “You can easily do that.”

  “I want to stand on that hill among those big red rocks and watch the sunrise just one time,” Petra said. “I think I’ll buy my breakfast, take it up that hill, sit on one of those rocks, and eat while the sun rises.”