ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? (Running Wild)

by Hutchinson, Bobby

  His green sweatshirt had a hole in the elbow, and the shoulder seam was coming apart. His jeans fit him well, but they’d had cleaner days. His eyes were bloodshot. The thick, shiny hair she’d imagined running her fingers through was still shiny, but it was flat on the right side, and it stuck up in a rooster's comb at the back of his head. His strong jaw was unshaven, the cleft invisible under a generous growth of black stubble. It wasn’t just from this morning, either. It would take three or four days to cultivate that much beard.

  It was Harold, but he looked more like a fugitive from justice than a romantic hero.

  The incredulous look he was giving her suddenly reminded Maxine that not only had she skipped makeup that morning, but the pimple she got every month with her period was glowing like a neon light smack in the middle of her chin.

  She had cramps, and her belly stuck out, although that wasn’t very evident, because she was wearing the baggy gray sweatpants that Polly had warned her were hideous and rightfully belonged in the garbage. And although her yellow tee had started out clean this morning, Graham had upchucked prune juice on it when she lifted him out of his car seat.

  Harold might look disreputable, but she probably resembled an accident victim.

  She certainly felt like one, if shock was any indication.

  She had to clear her throat twice before she found her voice. "What. . . who . . . what exactly are you doing here, Harold?”

  He could as easily have asked her the same question.

  “Daddy? Daddy, this baby won’t let me crawl through the tunnel, and he’s eating it more.” The redheaded girl was urgently tugging at Harold’s leg. “It’s not for eating, is it, Daddy? Come and take him out.”

  Looking straight into Maxine's eyes, Harold reached down and put his open palm on the girl's fiery hair. His voice was strained. “This is my daughter, Sadie.”

  Maxine tore her eyes from him and looked at the child. She had the face of a dreamy angel and the eyes of an imp. She was solid confirmation of what Maxine already knew: Harold was married, he wasn’t at all what he’d pretended to be. The fact that he’d forgotten to mention he had a little daughter whose mother didn't fuss much about appearances shouldn’t surprise her.

  So if she already knew what a lying, no good, devious bastard he was, why did it feel as if her chest were caving in?

  She was proud of herself for mustering up something like a smile for the child. “Hello, there, Sadie."

  Fortunately Graham started gagging right then, and Maxine bent and dragged him out of the tunnel. She forced her finger deep inside his mouth and dislodged a soggy lump of purple foam.

  As soon as it was out he bit her, hard. After that, he gave her an angelic grin, wiped his runny nose on her shirt, and squirmed to get down.

  “This is my son, Graham.” Maxine felt as if things were happening in slow motion. She jiggled Graham up and down and absentmindedly stuck the wad of foam in the pocket of her pants. “I’m gonna take him over to the toy area now. I’d rather you didn’t bother us again."

  On rubbery legs she turned and walked away, but from the corner of her eye, she could see that Harold was following close behind.

  "India, we have to talk.”

  “No, we absolutely do not have to talk.” She set Graham down, rather forcefully, beside a heap of red and yellow blocks. “Your wife wouldn’t want us talking any more than we already have, now, would she, Harold? By the way, does she have any idea of how much talking we’ve already done?”

  “I haven’t got a wife. I swear on my daughter’s life I haven’t got a wife.’’ His voice was loud, and several parents turned to stare in their direction.

  He sounded a bit like a manic Dr. Seuss, Maxine thought hysterically.

  “Cheryl died in a car crash when Sadie was six months old,” he said in a quieter tone.

  He sounded as if he was telling the truth, but he’d sounded like that before. Did she dare believe him?

  "Look, I’ll get someone to prove it to you, I’ll get my accountant to sign a statement; I’ll show you my income-tax returns, I’ll get a note from my doctor, whatever it takes.”

  So maybe he wasn’t married. A little bubble of relief rose out of the confused and murky depths of her heart.

  "What about you, India?” His voice vibrated with tension. "I didn't know you had a son, either. So who’s Graham's father?”

  He'd remembered her kid's name the first time around. Another little blip wiggled its way out of the mire of her emotions, not exactly pleasure; more like pleasant surprise.

  "I didn't marry him. He left when I was four months pregnant. He doesn’t even know he's got a son. I have no idea where he is.”

  Relief sketched itself across his features, but after a second Harold’s eyes narrowed and he gave his head a disgusted shake. "He got you pregnant and then deserted you, huh? Some guys need castrating,” he said in a growl.

  A woman helping her baby build blocks picked him up and hurried away, giving Harold a shocked glance.

  "Castration’s not a bad idea.” Ricky and his dishonesty reminded Maxine that Harold wasn’t exactly blameless in that regard, either. "So what about you, Harold? You’re not really an international businessman who travels a lot, are you? Or is this just the nanny's day off?” The sarcasm in her voice would have made Polly proud.

  “Of course I’m not a businessman. I’m a freelance writer,” he said in a contrite tone. “I do advertising slogans and short pieces for different publications. I work at home. I used to be an ad man, but I gave it up and went freelance when Sadie came. I wanted to be able to watch her grow up.”

  Maxine could identify with that. The similarity to her own situation was amazing.

  “I have a house not far from here, on Second Street in New West."

  That shocked her. Her house was in Burnaby, one suburb over. She wasn’t about to tell him that they were nearly neighbors. She wasn’t about to tell him anything at all about herself besides what he already knew.

  “So what do you write, Harold?”

  “Ms. Bleckner? Maxine?” Rosalie, the buxom supervisor of the program, interrupted before he could answer. Rosalie held out a clipboard and a pen.

  “Could I just get your signature on this, Maxine, please?” Rosalie’s plump, pretty face was wreathed in smiles. “I need a health record for every child, and I forgot to get you to sign this when you registered Graham the other day. And I do have the right address, 4709 Empress in Burnaby?”

  Maxine could only nod. Harold wasn’t even pretending not to listen, the louse.

  "So how’s Graham liking Motoring Munchkins, Maxine?” Rosalie asked. “This is only his second visit, isn’t it?”

  Maxine nodded. "He loves it,” she said in a croak, wanting to strangle the effusive woman.

  "You said Dr. Hawkins referred you. He’s my son Aldo’s pediatrician. He was so supportive when I told him about the program."

  “It’s a good idea." Maxine felt like sending good old Dr. Hawkins a letter bomb for suggesting she bring Graham here.

  Rosalie turned her attention to Harold, and there was no mistaking the coy flirtatiousness in her voice. Her massive breasts actually heaved, Maxine noted with disgust.

  “Hi, there, Harry. It’s so great to have Sadie with us. She missed last session, Momma said you forgot. Can’t have that, now, can we?” She didn’t chuck him under the chin, but it was close. "I hope we’ll see you this Sunday. Momma said she invited you and Sadie to Aldo’s birthday party.”

  "Yeah, she did. But I’m just not sure if—”

  "Oh, you’ve got to come,” Rosalie cooed. “Momma will be so disappointed if you’re not there, she just dotes on Sadie. And my little Aldo loves her, too. He was asking a minute ago where she was. I’ll tell Sadie about the party, and then you’ll just have to come, won't you?”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll have to see." Obviously Harold was now as uncomfortable as Maxine had been a moment before, and it made her feel better to watch him sq
uirm.

  “Rosalie, Lisa forgot the juice boxes again. Should I go out and get some? It's almost snack time.” One of the young volunteers plucked at Rosalie’s sleeve, and with obvious reluctance she hurried away.

  “Maxine, huh?” Harold sounded pleased with himself. “So that’s your name. Maxine Bleckner. I like the name Maxine."

  She’d always despised her name, but he rolled it around and gave it some sort of an exotic twist that made it sound almost bearable.

  “Rosalie’s mother, Mrs. Campanato, lives on my street.” He sighed, rubbing a hand through hair that was already standing on end. “She babysits Sadie for me. I try to stay on her good side, but now I’m not so sure I’ll be able to. Listen, Ind—Maxine,” he corrected with the grin she remembered so well. “Please let me take you and Graham for lunch. This thing must be almost over. There’s so much I want to get straight with you, and this isn't the place to do it.” He gave her a beseeching look. "Don’t make me beg. I'll feel like an idiot getting down on my knees in front of all these kids and their parents. And Rosalie will be so pissed”—he grimaced and corrected himself quickly—“so upset when she finds out we’re friends, she’ll likely ban both

  Sadie and Graham from Munchkins forevermore.” He looked around and then leaned close

  and whispered, “Rosalie’s got a terrible temper. Her father says that’s why her marriage broke up."

  “Daddy, can I go on the jungle gym with Elsa?” Sadie danced over, swishing her long white dress. She shinnied up Harold’s leg. “Can I, Daddy, please? I gotta have your 'mission, Elsa’s mommy said.”

  “Yeah, you can, sweetheart. Hurry up, because we’re leaving in a few minutes.” Harold unhooked her and then waved and nodded an elaborate consent to Elsa's mom, a militant- looking woman in a tweed skirt and a brown twinset. She was wearing pearls.

  Sadie squealed with delight and ran over to the woman, who gave Harold a cold stare and ostentatiously used a pristine handkerchief to dab at the jam on Sadie’s chin.

  “That's one lady who definitely doesn’t approve of me,” he muttered under his breath. “But don’t let her influence you, Maxine, okay? Let’s have lunch. Please?”

  Maxine was trying to figure out whether she should go. Her head told her to say no, but her heart was sending a different message. In spite of their disastrous dinner date, she liked him. She wanted to talk to him.

  It was probably just curiosity, she told herself. She wanted to hear more of his phony excuses for pretending to be someone he wasn’t. It was probably good research for her work, right? Wrong.

  That was a bunch of baloney, she admitted. She just wanted to be with him, fool that she was.

  She’d have to call home and see if Edna could work another hour or so. She opened her mouth to tell him she’d come, but her eyes were drawn over to the jungle gym.

  Sadie was now hanging upside down, her long white dress flopped over her head, and it was very apparent that she had no panties on. Elsa’s mother looked horrified. She snatched at the skirt of Sadie’s dress and tried to talk her into coming down, but the child was singing a song, swinging back and forth.

  Maxine started to giggle.

  Harold turned to look, and he groaned and clapped a hand over his eyes.

  “That does it,” he exclaimed. “Elsa’s mom is gonna phone the authorities; they’ll have me charged with being an unfit parent. We’ve gotta get out of here. Please say you'll come with me, Maxine?”

  Maxine glanced over at the penned area where Graham was. Her son's face was magenta, and his concentrated expression told her that he was doing a good job of filling his diaper.

  "I have to change Graham first. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” She hoped she had her cell phone in her purse.

  “Yesss.” Harold’s whiskery face broke into a grin. He put his palms together and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Thank you, Goddess,” he intoned. And then he reluctantly made his way toward Elsa’s mom to claim his daughter.

  They went to McDonald's and turned Graham and Sadie loose in the play area. “Please don’t do somersaults, okay, punkin?” Harold begged, and he was gratified to hear Maxine giggling. He liked her laugh.

  They sat at a table where they could watch the kids, and he got them coffee and burgers and fries. While he was at the counter, he kept stealing glances at Maxine. She was so natural- looking, so fresh and pretty. He loved her freckles. He loved her with no makeup. He was going to tell her the whole truth about himself, he vowed as he paid for the food.

  Yeah, and that’ll be the end of this new beginning, Watson. As soon as she finds out you 're doing an expose on her, you think she’s gonna want anything more to do with you? Forget it. She’ll figure you set her up.

  He carried the tray over to the table, and she looked up at him and smiled. She had the greatest smile. She had the greatest teeth. She had the greatest breasts.

  He wasn’t going to tell her about the article.

  "I got cheeseburgers, I hope you like cheese?”

  “Sure.” She picked up a fry, dunked it in ketchup, and munched it. “So what do you want to talk about, Harold? The fact that you fed me a line of hogwash?”

  "Harry. My name’s Harry Watson.”

  “I thought it was Walters.” She narrowed her green eyes at him, and after a minute she nodded, as if she were adding this to the long, invisible list of his other lies. But then all of a sudden she shook her head and grinned. She held out her hand. Her eyes twinkled.

  "Maxine Bleckner, how do you do, Harry Watson?”

  He took her slender hand in his, and the connection was electric. He knew she felt it as well, because her eyes widened.

  She pretended nothing was happening. She snatched her hand away and said in that incredible voice that gave him goose bumps, “I guess neither of us was very honest, were we, Harry? My excuse is my job. I can’t afford to be honest. Who’d phone again if they knew what my life is really like? So what’s your reason?”

  The same. Oh, Maxine, my excuse is my job, same as yours. But he had enough sense not to say that. And he knew it was going to be alright. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t the kind of woman who held a grudge. There was a faint chance she might even let him take her out again, if he handled this carefully.

  And, man, he wanted to do that. He wanted it badly.

  "I wanted to impress you," he told her. “I didn’t want you to know I was a hopeless slob who didn't shower or shave before taking his bare-assed daughter to Motoring Munchkins."

  She laughed, as he'd hoped she might, and he could see her relaxing.

  The relief he felt was enormous, and it made him hungry. "Maxine, I’m starving. Mind if I eat before we get into the rest of the gritty details of my life?"

  “Okay. I’m hungry too. I missed breakfast.”

  “Me too. I worked late on an assignment last night and turned off the alarm this morning. Lucky thing Sadie woke me up.” He took a huge bite of his burger and a gulp of coffee. Then he looked at her and pitched his voice low and intimate.

  “I’m very glad Sadie woke me up.”

  Her throat grew pink, and the blush crept up to her ears. He liked that she blushed. He liked that she ate her food with honest relish. In the distant past he’d dated women who watched their weight with fanatical intensity, and he remembered it wasn't enjoyable to eat with them.

  When the burger and fries were gone, he thought about what he should say, how best to explain his duplicity—without spilling the beans about the article.

  "I wanted to tell you the truth that night at the restaurant, but I’d dug myself in too deep with that businessman fantasy,” he began. It was close to the truth. "I'd created this savvy, sophisticated monster, this guy I could never live up to, and when I saw you, I was too blown away to do the right thing and just confess.”

  "Why did you phone me in the first place, Harry?”

  Here it was, the crossroads where he either told the truth or lied through his teeth.

  He l
ied. “I was working and I had this feeling that everybody else was out having a hell of a good time somewhere. The paper was on my desk, and my eyes lit on your ad.”

  She nodded. She believed him. He despised himself for lying, but he needed to see her again.

  He leaned toward her, and this time he told her the absolute truth: “I thought you were about the sexiest, most beautiful, woman I’d ever laid eyes on, Maxine. I was so proud to have you with me that night.”

  Her neck and cheeks got pink again, and she looked down at her tray, but she didn’t say anything.

  "Then that magpie of a Joost came over,” Harry went on, “and I knew that in a minute he’d ruin everything by telling you all about me. You’d find out I was just an ordinary Joe and I’d lied to you about everything. And I knew that he was gonna mention Sadie, because he came to the house when I was doing an ad campaign and he fell hard for her.”

  “I thought Sadie was your wife.”

  “Yeah. It was a logical mistake.”

  “I’m not surprised he liked Sadie,” Maxine said, glancing over at the play area. "She’s a great kid. Look how she’s taking care of Graham.”

  Sadie was tossing balls in the air and making the baby laugh.

  “Do you enjoy being a parent, Harry?”

  “When I was twenty, if anyone had suggested I’d spend my thirties raising a kid, I’d have laughed my head off,” Harry said. “But I’ve never enjoyed anything as much as I’m enjoying raising her. She teaches me so much.” He gave Maxine a wry look. “Like checking before we leave the house to make sure she’s wearing underwear. That was my lesson for today, and I screwed up big-time.”

  They both laughed, and he added, “There’s nothing like a kid to force you to really take a look at the things that embarrass you, or that push your buttons. It’s a very humbling experience, being a parent, don’t you think?”

  Maxine nodded. “Before I had Graham, I’d have slit my wrists rather than be seen in public with baby puke on my shirt, wearing my oldest track pants."

  “You look beautiful,” he said, and meant it.

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "If you’re serious, you obviously need to get out more. Either that or have an eye exam.”