by L. Langdon
“How did you meet her?”
“She came up last summer to be a fisherman. She had just finished college and she wanted to do something different. Now, I don’t want to lose her.”
Her look turned wistful. “Gosh, that sounds exciting. And romantic.” Then she seemed to realize where she was. “I’ll go put your order in. Back in a few minutes.” She hastened off.
True to her word, she was back in less than five minutes. After she placed his order on his table, she hesitated. “Does she live in Atlanta?”
He shook his head. “South Carolina.”
“Where did she go to college?”
“Pee Dee State.”
She blinked in surprise. “That’s a black college.”
Another lesson about the South… Gerri had never mentioned it, but segregation was apparently rampant on all levels. He nodded slowly. “I didn’t realize that, but I guess I should have.”
“So, she’s…black?”
Sven nodded again. Now, she couldn’t conceal her grin. “That’s really romantic.”
After she left, he tackled his meal—as he continued his people watching. He noticed his waitress huddling with two others, both black. They were giggling and stealing glances at him. He idly wondered what had piqued their interest. There was no shortage of possibilities: his being an Alaskan, his ignorance of hush puppies, or maybe his having a black girl friend. Whichever it was, he didn’t begrudge them their amusement.
Then the presumed boss, who had been standing nearby, approached the group and started berating them. Sven couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the waitresses fled to their respective stations, looking distinctly unhappy. It certainly didn’t seem like a ‘friendly eatery’ to Sven. They had been talking for only a few minutes and, prior to that, had seemed to be working hard.
It all came clear in the next minute as the boss approached Sven’s table with an unfriendly look on his face. “I don’t want you bothering my girls with a bunch of crazy stories.”
The man was clearly spoiling for an unpleasant confrontation. That could only get his waitress in further trouble. Sven would not give him that satisfaction. He was willing to play dumb a bit if that would help to defuse the situation. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the man mildly. “I certainly didn’t intend to bother the waitress. The ‘Friendly Eatery’ sign was what brought me in here, and I assumed that that included a bit of friendly conversation. I’ll be glad to apologize to her if you like.”
Sven knew damn well that the waitress wasn’t offended; the boss was. It had to have been Sven’s reference to a black girlfriend that got him upset. Sven’s offer, as he had intended, took the man by surprise. “No, that won’t be necessary.” He handed Sven a slip of paper. “Here’s your check. You can pay the cashier as you leave.”
In other words, Sven thought, don’t talk to the waitress any more. However, he thanked the man as if he were doing Sven a favor. As the man turned to leave, Sven called out to him. “By the way, the hush puppies were delicious. I appreciate the waitress’s suggestion.”
That man gave Sven a rather sour nod as he left. Sven had to conceal a smile—it had annoyed the man to have to acknowledge, even indirectly, his waitress’s initiative.
As Sven examined the bill, he realized that the total had been filled in and a line drawn through the ‘tip’ item. Given the man’s petty nastiness, Sven suspected that even if he added a tip, the waitress wouldn’t get it. He sat there, toying with last bits of his food. After about five minutes, the man disappeared into the back of the restaurant. Sven quickly got up to leave, veering toward his waitress as he did so.
She looked nervous as he approached, so he hardly even slowed down. As he walked by, he handed her a $10 bill and flashed a quick smile. “Thanks for everything. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”
The bill quickly disappeared into her pocket. “It wasn’t your fault.”
After he got back to his hotel, Sven thought about this incident. It had to have been his mention of a black girlfriend which led to the waitresses’ gossiping, which in turn mightily offended their boss. Another lesson in his education about the South—what a cauldron of hatred and paranoia seethed beneath the surface of many of the white folks here.
___
The next morning started badly for Sven. As his impatience to see Gerri grew, it seemed that the delays grew as well. The puddle jumper which was to take him to Florence was late. Further, he had to wait at the rental car desk because his car wasn’t ready. When he finally got it, he couldn’t find Gerri’s address on the map that they provided, and the clerk had never heard of her street. He was at least able to give Sven directions to the high school where Gerri worked, so he decided to head there first.
Once he was finally in the car, he discovered that its A/C barely worked. And, while yesterday had been pleasantly warm in Atlanta, today was downright hot. A bank thermometer said 75°. In November! How do they stand it? In Juneau this temperature—even in the summer—would elicit comments about the heat.
As he drove, he reviewed his plans. After all of the delays, he should get to her school sometime around dismissal. The episode in the restaurant made him vow to be extra careful. Maybe he would tell them that he was delivering a package. He was afraid to leave the paintings in the car anyway—unless he could find a shady parking space, the inside of the car would be roasting practically as soon as he got into the building.
Finally, after an interminable drive, he was there. He sat in the car in the school parking lot and watched students pour out. Something was going right for once—it was evidently dismissal time. He got out of the car, grabbed the boxed paintings, and headed for the door.
Chapter 30
This had been a long day, and Gerri was ready for it to be over. It had started well. Gerri had awakened feeling snug under her covers in her cool room. She had taken to leaving her window wide open at night, even when it was cold outside. She compensated by having extra covers, and, if she closed her eyes and let her mind drift, she could pretend for a few minutes that she was lying in Sven’s bed on the Glacier Gal. That never lasted long, and this morning had been no exception. She heard her mother’s call and, groaning, threw the covers off and got up.
“Shut that window! You’ll freeze to death.” Olivia had stuck her head in Gerri’s door.
Gerri obediently shut the window. She didn’t bother to explain that in Alaska she had routinely gotten up on much colder mornings than this. And she certainly didn’t share her sudden mental image of Sven— un-self-consciously naked and looking magnificent—walking around on those same mornings as they got dressed to start their day.
It was going to be a warm day, so Gerri didn’t bother with a jacket as she set out on her walk to school. That earned her another remonstration from her mother. It’s really time for me to look for my own place. I’ve put it off too long. She didn’t blame Olivia, but as long as Gerri was living under her roof, it was instinctive for her to treat Gerri like a child—even though Gerri, at her own insistence, was helping with the expenses.
Her morning at school was uneventful. At lunch, she got a mild surprise—even though she had been half-expecting it for some time. Thurman finally got around to asking her out. She didn’t know what to think about that, so she promised him that she’d give him an answer tomorrow. Throughout the afternoon, it kept coming back to her mind. On the one hand, she didn’t have any (what her mother would call) tender feelings for him anymore. And he had never come clean about Carlotta.
On the other hand, she deserved to have a little fun, and it wasn’t like he was asking for her hand or anything. Maybe going out with Thurman would help her get her mind off Sven—Mr. can’t-be-bothered-to-write Sven.
As she completed her work in Miss Carruthers’ classroom, she continued thinking about what to tell Thurman. Since Miss. Carruthers invariably found her something mindless and demeaning to do, Gerri had no trouble letting her mind wander while she worked. Miss
Carruthers was one of the more hostile teachers. She was barely older than Gerri, but she always acted as though Gerri was a child—and a slightly slow one, at that.
Today’s task was to cut out Thanksgiving decorations from construction paper. Any student could have done this, but as Miss Carruthers had said in her grating voice, “I want my classroom to look special for Thanksgiving, so be especially careful.”
Thurman had been tasked to work with her, and Gerri glanced at him as he sat in a student’s chair concentrating on his cutting. He seemed to get along with Miss Carruthers fairly well. If Gerri were to be unkind, she would put that down to a hitherto unrevealed talent for obsequiousness. On the other hand, he had fewer illusions about this job—he didn’t have a burning desire to teach and knew that the job was a temporary expediency made necessary by his delayed graduation. She sighed as she got up to get more construction paper. When had Thurman become a more accepting person than she?
As she walked past the window, she glanced outside. There was a man… She stopped and fought the urge to turn back and look again. This is crazy! The man, and his rolling, sailor’s gait, reminded her intensely of Sven. Her heart briefly stabbed with longing—clearly it had not gotten the message that that man didn’t even care enough to write. As she returned to her seat, she sneaked another look out the window, but of course the man—if there had even been one—was gone.
When she got back to her seat, she just sat there. Her hands were shaking. This was intolerable. She had to do something to break this obsession with Sven. Miss Carruthers left the room on an errand, giving Gerri a strange look. Gerri ignored her; there was only one thing that she could think of to do. She turned to Thurman. “Thurman, I’ve decided. I will go out with you.”
He looked up blankly, and then his face split in a smile. “Cool! I’ll show you a good time. I guarantee that you’ll enjoy it.”
Gerri wondered about his phraseology, but she disregarded it. Finally, she was doing something! Her sudden good mood even survived the sound of Miss Carruthers in the hall. She was using what Gerri called her man-catching voice. Another of the many ways in which she annoyed Gerri was her frank insistence that she was only teaching until she found a man worthy of marrying. And sometimes, her search was offensively obvious.
Gerri idly wondered who her target was this time. She would give the woman her due—she was attractive in a stereotypical, southern belle sort of way, and her ‘targets’ seemed to be pleased with the attention. Anyway, that was the target’s problem—Gerri was simply relieved that Miss Carruthers was out of the room.
She hurried to finish the last turkey and got up to put them on the teacher’s desk. Before picking them up, she bent over the chair to count them. It would be like Miss Carruthers to yell at her for making one too few.
___
Gerri was not the first person to tell Sven about the astonishing difference between his fearsome scowl and his charming smile. She was just the first person who mattered. He was, however, willing to use that knowledge to his advantage. It took a couple of winsome smiles, but Sven got the lady at the central office to direct him to the classroom where Gerri was working.
He followed her directions with mounting impatience. He was forced to endure a brief delay when a rather strange woman accosted him in the hall. After he had broken free from her, he shook his head. What had happened to the world? In his memory, teachers were businesslike—even motherly. This woman was neither. As she talked to him, she fluttered her eyelashes and tried to stroke his arm. He had to take a step backwards to evade her.
Finally, he was outside the door to Gerri’s room. The woman in the office had warned him that the teacher using this room didn’t like outsiders barging in. He paused and looked in. There, to his fascination, was Gerri. She looked different, but she still looked trim and pretty, and Sven feasted his eyes for a moment.
She wore a suit with a skirt that stopped just above her knees. The skirt and the jacket were both black. He couldn’t see her blouse because she was facing away from him. The major change was her hair—her afro was gone, replaced by short, straightened hair. He’d have to reserve judgment on that. As he watched, she stood up and bent over the seat next to her. As she did so, young black man sitting behind her bent over in his seat.
Sven saw red. The young man was trying to look up her skirt. She, oblivious, straightened up and walked to the back of the room. Sven gave the guy his most evil glare and cleared his throat loudly. It was the first time that he had consciously conjured up his fearsome scowl.
The man turned at the sound and looked shocked. His body jerked and a pencil dropped from his hands and rolled under a table. Sven watched as he stood and retreated a step. “Yes? Um, I mean, may I help you?”
“No.” Sven kept glaring.
The man licked his lips and started to speak again. Sven stepped into the room and looked for Gerri. Out of the corner of his eye, Sven saw the man retreat another step, but Sven ignored him. Everything else went out of his head as Gerri turned and saw him.
Her jaw dropped and she froze for a second. Then she shook her head and spoke, almost in a whisper. “Sven? Is it really you? Or am I hallucinating?”
Sven forgot all of his vows to be cautious. He opened his arms and, in three large strides, was in front of her folding her in a hug. “If you’re hallucinating, then so am I. Gerri, you have no idea how good it is to see you.” She returned the hug with such vigor that he could feel the residual pain of his appendix scar.
He leaned back far enough to study her face. Different hairdo, but same Gerri. He focused his eyes on her lips. Just then there was a noise—the young man asked, “Gerri, do you know this… this…”
With his words, the spell was broken. Gerri stepped back and half turned, leaving one hand hooked around Sven’s arm. “Yes, of course. I should have introduced you. Thurman, this is Sven Halvorsen.”
Thurman pasted a fake smile on his face as she introduced them. He shook Sven’s hand cautiously. He hated the man on sight. He looked as though he made his living attacking people in alleyways, not fishing in the wilderness. But most of all, Thurman hated the way Sven looked at Gerri.
By rights, Thurman believed, Gerri should be his. There was no one else that he would prefer in this hick town—until Carlotta came back, of course. And Gerri even owed him for that—Carlotta left when she found out that Thurman wasn’t graduating in the spring, which was Gerri’s fault.
Besides, he had an investment in Gerri. He had put up with her silly virginity promise for years, but since she had come back after this last summer she had seemed more sophisticated; more self-assured. And just now, she had accepted his offer of a date. He planned to take her to a club. A few drinks—assuming that she was also more sophisticated about that—and he liked his chances.
Gerri’s gaze flicked nervously back and forth between the two men. She understood why Thurman was hostile to Sven—he didn’t like white men, and Gerri had greeted Sven with obvious affection. In fact, Thurman’s interruption was fortuitous in a perverse way. She had seen the look on Sven’s face. In another moment, he would have kissed her and she would have reciprocated enthusiastically. Thurman could gossip about the hug, but he could really have made her life miserable around the school if she had kissed Sven.
But why was Sven glaring? He’d never even met Thurman before. Had she mentioned him by name last summer? Maybe. But Thurman was ancient history. Well… She had just accepted his offer of a date. She’d have to do something about that.
She noticed the muscles in Sven’s forearm tighten and, simultaneously, heard Thurman grunt. That would be all that she needed—for Sven to ‘accidently’ break Thurman’s hand. She quickly tightened her hand on Sven’s arm and looked anxiously into his eyes, hoping that somehow he could read her mind.
Her mind wasn’t that hard to read. Sven quirked a small smile at her and released Thurman’s hand.
Thurman rubbed his hand unobtrusively and spoke to Gerri. “Gerr
i, may I speak to you alone for a minute?”
“I don’t want to be rude to my guest. Can’t it wait until Monday?”
“It’s about our date. I have to make plans.”
Gerri cringed. That was the last thing she wanted Sven to hear. And Thurman knew darn well that no specific day or time had even been discussed. “Monday will have to do. My guest has come a long way.” Searching for a distraction, she saw the package that Sven had leaned against the door. “And I’m dying to know what’s in that package. Is that for me?”
“Part of it is. And part of it is for your parents. I didn’t want to leave it in the car because of the heat.” He was not going to mention that the package was his ticket into the building.
Just then, Miss Carruthers returned. Her greeting for Sven was less effusive this time. He hadn’t been receptive in the hallway and—she wasn’t quite sure—had Gerri’s hand been hastily removed from his arm as she walked through the door? “What’s going on? I want those decorations done today.”
“They’re on your desk,” Gerri assured her. “I was just leaving. He, uh, brought a package for me.” She had no desire to introduce Sven to Miss Carruthers—and hoped she wouldn’t be forced to.
“Wait a minute,” Miss Carruthers sniffed. “I want to check them.” Finally, when she found nothing to complain about, they were free to leave.
Their walk to Sven’s car was largely silent. After Sven verified that Gerri had walked to work, his only response to Gerri’s attempt at conversation was a muttered “Let’s talk when we get to the car.” Thurman’s remark about a date with Gerri had hit him like a punch in the gut. Which is exactly what the bastard had intended, of course. Sven had looked at Gerri while she replied, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Had she started dating this soon? And the same guy that had betrayed her so recently? There couldn’t be that many guys with that name in this little town.
