See Tom Run

by Scott Wittenburg

  Already, he was losing faith in this whole insane idea. Besides the fact that he felt depressed every time he came to this miserable hellhole of a town, it was beginning to look like he might have driven all this way for nothing. He was so out of touch with everybody here that at the moment, he wasn’t sure what to do next. He tried thinking of anybody else he knew who might be able to help him locate Mindy but came up empty. Desperately, he picked up the telephone book and starting with the A’s, flipped through the names randomly, hoping to spot a name he recognized.

  He’d gotten to the F’s when he noticed the name of the same bar where he had met Mindy all those years ago. He decided that Frankenstein’s Pub was as good a place as any to begin his search.

  Hopping back into the Jeep, he proceeded south toward the downtown section of Smithtown. As he entered the business section, he couldn’t help but notice that most of the old stores he’d known as a child were shut down. In fact, the whole town seemed eerily ghost-like, save for the occasional pedestrian walking down the street.

  He spotted Frankenstein’s and parked a few doors down. When he entered the place, Tom noticed that very little had changed over the years as he walked past the pool table toward the bar.

  He sat down and waited for the bartender to come over, noting that there were only four persons other than himself in the whole place.

  “Whatcha need?” a gruff looking man in his mid-sixties with greasy gray hair asked.

  “Mick Ultra, please.”

  The man turned and headed toward the cooler. Tom watched him pull out a longneck bottle, pop the top and return with it.

  “Two fifty,” he said as he set the beer down on the weathered wood bar.

  Tom pulled out three ones and slapped them down.

  He took a long slug of the ice-cold lager, relishing the feel of it going down. He wasn’t much of a daytime drinker, but this beer was as welcome as it was required under the circumstances.

  He fixed his eyes on the two guys playing pool, trying to determine if he recognized either of them. He had seen the tall one before, but had no idea what his name was. The other one drew a total blank.

  There were a couple more men standing toward the back of the bar playing a video game. The bar was rather dark so it was hard to make out their faces. Tom got up and sauntered toward them.

  As he drew closer to the pair, he realized that he knew one of them fairly well. It was one of the friends he used to hang out with when he was in high school. Brad Thompson looked almost the same as he did nearly twenty years ago except for the fifty or sixty pounds he had tacked on since then. Tom hadn’t seen him since graduation.

  Brad glanced over and recognized Tom before he could open his mouth.

  “Jesus Christ, if it isn’t Tom Grayson! How the hell are ya?” Brad said, extending his hand.

  Tom shook and said, “Great! How have you been, Brad?”

  “Can’t complain-still stuck in this shit hole trying to make a livin.’”

  The other man finished his game and turned around.

  “Tom, this is my cousin, Lenny. He’s visitin’ from KY.” He said to Lenny, “Tom is an old high school friend I haven’t seen in over twenty years.”

  Tom shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Lenny.”

  “So where are you livin’ now, Tom? Last I heard, you’d moved to New York City. You still there?”

  “Not anymore. I moved to Columbus a while back. Got married and have a couple of kids, in fact.”

  “Hey, that’s great! So what are ya doing up there?”

  “Teach at Capital State.”

  “Don’t tell me-some kind of art course, right? You always were the artistic type.”

  “Yeah. Art history.”

  “I knew it! So what the hell brings you down here?”

  Tom wasn’t sure how to answer that at the moment. “Well, I’m sort of looking for somebody I haven’t seen in a while.”

  Brad looked at him suspiciously. “Not some old girlfriend, I hope. Your old lady wouldn’t be too happy with you if that’s the case!”

  Tom realized that Brad was trying to be funny-if he only knew that he was on the right track.

  “No, just an old friend of mine. You don’t know Mindy Conkel, do you?”

  “Hmm. Mindy Conkel. Charlie Gossett’s old lady was named Mindy, but I’m not sure what her maiden name was. Do you remember Charlie?”

  Tom tried to hide his shock. Charlie Gossett was a hillbilly redneck that was always getting into bar fights.

  And if he had to think of someone who reminded him of Charlie Gossett, it would be a certain character that didn’t exist in real life Donnie Shortridge: the stuff that bad dreams were made of.

  Tom recovered enough to say, “Yeah, I remember Charlie. He was one of the scariest guys in high school. Always carried a knife looking for trouble.”

  Brad nodded. “Yep, that was Charlie all right. He finally got sent up the creek quite a while back. Beat up his wife so bad that he nearly killed her. Like I said, her name was Mindy. Never knew the chick before she married Charlie, though.”

  Holy hell! Tom thought. This can’t really be happening!

  “What did this Mindy look like?” Tom inquired.

  “Well, I only saw her a couple of times. She used to come here every now and then without Charlie. No one would ever go near her though because they knew that Charlie was the jealous type and would probably murder anyone who tried to pick her up. Anyway, she was a freakin’ beauty, no doubt about that. Really blonde hair, kinda tall with great tits. Had one hell of an ass, too.”

  That had to be Mindy Conkel, Tom thought. He couldn’t have described her better himself.

  “You don’t happen to know where she lives now, do you? She sounds like the same girl I’m looking for.”

  Brad Thompson shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t seen her in a few years. She may have left town after Charlie got sent to prison.”

  “Hmm, maybe you’re right. Oh well, it’s not the end of the world if I don’t find her. She used to have an uncle that owned a home improvement business somewhere near Columbus and I was trying to find out how to reach him. He supposedly does great work for reasonable rates but I can’t remember his name or the name of his business to save my life. We want to add a family room to our house.”

  Tom knew this fabricated story sounded lame, but Brad didn’t catch on to it.

  “Sorry I can’t help you more. Hey, you want to play some cutthroat?”

  “Nah, I’d better get going. I’ve got to get back to Columbus before the wife reams me a new one.”

  “I hear ya! I heard there’s supposed to be a big snowstorm coming sometime this evening. You sure as hell don’t want to get stuck in that.”

  “For sure,” Tom replied. He killed the last of his Ultra and offered his hand to Brad.

  “Hey, take care of yourself, man. It was great seeing you again.”

  “You, too. Give me a call next time you’re in town and we’ll tie on a good one.”

  “Will do. Nice meeting you, Lenny. See you around.”

  Tom headed for the door, dropping his beer bottle off at the bar on the way. He noticed that the wind was picking up as he stepped outside, reminding him of what Brad had said about an approaching winter storm. He checked his watch: half past noon. He still had an hour or so before he should start heading back home.

  Back in his Jeep, Tom was still reeling from what Brad Thompson had told him about Mindy and Charlie Gossett. He was absolutely numbed by the eerie coincidence. Not only had Mindy married a redneck hillbilly just like the fictitious Donnie Shortridge in his dream, her husband had ended up being a wife-beater and sent to prison for assault to boot!

  What in the hell was that all about?

  He hadn’t been prepared for this. Although his dream had had a certain ominous quality to it, he never expected to see a direct connection between what had happened in the dream and reality. The girl named Erin in the dream had nothing wh
atsoever to do with the Erin in the real world-he had simply assigned Erin Landry’s face to a fabricated character named Erin Myers, a by-product of his poison fume-fueled imagination.

  But now, the more he thought about Mindy Conkel and her real life crazy, violent husband, or ex-husband, the more nervous he got.

  Would he be better off leaving well enough alone? Get out of Dodge City before he got himself into REAL trouble?

  Tom now wished that he hadn’t drank that beer. Because he wouldn’t mind having a few more right this moment.

  He pulled up to the traffic light on the corner of Second Street and waited for it to turn green, staring across the street at the bridge crossing the Ohio River into Kentucky. Something about all of this crazy shit had some kind of hold on him. That much he knew. And he would never know what it was if he backed down now.

  The light changed and Tom hung a right. Two blocks later he spotted a convenience store and pulled into the parking lot. He got out and entered the store, glancing around for a pay phone. He spotted one near the coffee machine and headed for it. He picked up the phone book and shuffled through the pages.

  He found the G’s and looked for any listing that could be Mindy’s. There was only one Gossett listed: a Floyd Gossett with a West Smithtown exchange. His only hope now was that Floyd was a relative of Charlie’s and willing to tell him where Charlie’s estranged wife lived.

  He was hoping for a miracle, he realized.

  The store employee was staring at him so Tom decided to use the pay phone to call Floyd instead of pulling out his cell phone. He found a quarter in his pocket, dropped it in the slot and dialed the number.

  Six rings later, a thin raspy voice said, “Yellow.”

  “Is this the Gossett residence?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Hi, I’m trying to locate Mindy Gossett and was wondering if you by any chance know her whereabouts,” Tom said, crossing his fingers.

  “What’s that you say?” the man said, apparently hard of hearing.

  Tom upped the volume to his voice. “I said I’m looking for Mindy Gossett and wondered if you might know how I can reach her.”

  “Mindy, you say? Now what would you be a-wantin’ with her?”

  “I would just like to talk to her about something. Do you know how I could contact her?”

  “Who is this?” the man asked suspiciously. “This ain’t one of Charlie’s friends, is it?”

  “No, sir. I’m an old friend of Mindy’s. I haven’t seen her in a long time and would like to talk to her if I may.”

  “And what would be your name?”

  “Tom. Tom Grayson.”

  “Well Tim, I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea. You see, I don’t want nobody botherin’ that poor gal and since I don’t know you from the man in the moon, I’m not gonna give you no help. That goddamn son of mine has done screwed up her life already and I ain’t gonna let another Gossett screw her over again.”

  Jesus, Tom thought, it was Charlie’s father! And he had just given him his name like an idiot-Charlie will probably want to kill him when he gets out of prison!

  Or maybe not. Charlie’s father didn’t exactly sound like he was particularly pleased with his son-in fact, quite the contrary.

  “Mr. Gossett, I can assure you that I mean no harm to Mindy. If it would make you feel any better, maybe you could let her know I was looking for her and ask her if she would be opposed to meeting with me. Then, if it’s all right with her, I could call you back and you could tell me how to find her.”

  There was a moment of silence before the man spoke again.

  “I reckon that would be okay, long as it’s okay with the girl. I’ll give her a call and tell her you’re wantin’ to talk to her. What was that name again? Tim Anderson?”

  “No, Tom Grayson.”

  “Okay, I’ll pass that on to her.”

  “When should I call you back?”

  “Give me ten minutes, son.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Gossett. I’ll call you back then.”

  Tom was ecstatic as he hung up the phone. He had finally found her!

  He went over to one of the coolers and took out a bottle of Ice Mountain, paid for it and left the store. After he was back in the Jeep, he realized that he’d forgotten Gossett’s telephone number. He grabbed a pencil and paper from the dash compartment, ran back into the store, located the number in the phone book and jotted it down. As he returned to the Jeep, he hoped that Mr. Gossett got his name right when he spoke to Mindy and that she would be willing to see him, or at least allow him to talk to her.

  Screwing off the cap, Tom took a huge gulp of cold water and looked out ahead, noticing that it was clouding up. He started thinking about Peg and how she would react if she knew that he was in Smithtown hunting down some chick from his past instead of at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland with Frank.

  He felt faint as he realized just how absurd this whole situation had gotten and how much deeper he was getting into it by the minute. What was driving him to do all of this, running around like a madman trying to make sense of something that seemed so utterly senseless? Was it worth the risks he was taking with his marriage and his family, the most important things in his life?

  The cell phone rang and simultaneously danced around like a hooked catfish on the Jeep’s console, causing him to spill his water on his lap. He picked it up and read the caller ID It was Peg!

  In a panic, he debated whether or not to take the call. At first he wasn’t going to-Peg would just assume that he didn’t hear the phone or had forgotten to turn it on. Then he changed his mind. What if something bad had happened?

  He took a deep breath and flipped the phone open.

  “Hello, babe,” he said, trying to sound as normal as he could.

  “Tom, I’m so glad I reached you! You’ll never guess in a million years who just blew into town!” she said excitedly.

  He breathed a silent sigh and wondered who it could be. “Who?”

  “Maggie! Can you believe it?”

  Maggie Tolman was Peg’s best friend who had moved to Colorado a few years ago. The two were as close as two friends could be. “That’s great, Peg. How long will she be in town?”

  “Not very long, I’m afraid. She has a two-hour stopover in Columbus on her way to New York-apparently her flight is all messed up. Anyway, I’m going to drive out to the airport and have lunch with her.”

  “Sounds like fun. Be sure to tell her I said hi,” Tom said.

  “I will. How’s the museum?”

  Tom thought he took too long to answer. “Great! Lots of cool stuff here.”

  “And are you and Frank behaving yourselves?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, you may want to consider coming back soon. They’re forecasting another snowstorm heading our way.”

  Peg’s voice was starting to cut out. Tom looked at the signal strength indicator on his cell: two bars. His battery strength was down to a single bar, and it dawned on him that he’d forgotten to charge the thing before heading out of the house.

  “I’m sorry, dear. What did you say about a storm?”

  “It’s going to snow again. They’re predicting three to four inches by late evening.”

  Shit, he thought, he was going to have to get a move on with this and get back on the road ASAP.

  “That’s not good news at all,” he said. “We’ll probably head back in an hour or so.”

  “Okay. Well, be careful on the highway. I should be home when you get here.”

  “I’ll see you then, Peg. And have a nice time with Maggie.”

  “See you later.”

  Tom disconnected and continued staring out the windshield. He noticed that the wind was really picking up and dark gray clouds were blowing in from the west. He glanced at the phone in his hand, wondering if it had been ten minutes yet. Deciding it had been long enough, he tapped in Floyd Gossett’s number.

  “Hi, Mr. Gossett, it’s Tom Grayso
n again. Were you able to reach Mindy?”

  “Yep, sure did.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well, can’t say as she was real thrilled with the idear of meeting up with you. In fact, she didn’t seem to know who you were when I mentioned yer name. But then I repeated it for her and a light bulb lit up, I reckon.”

  “Will she let me see her?” Tom asked, wondering how much Floyd Gossett had butchered his name before Mindy finally realized who he was talking about.

  “I reckon she’s okay with it. She told me to give you her phone number so you could call her.”

  “That’s great-what is it, Mr. Gossett?”

  He read the number to Tom, who in turn punched it into his cell.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Gossett,” Tom said sincerely.

  “No problem, boy. Just don’t let me hear that you’ve done anything wrong by Mindy or I’ll personally see that you regret it!” the old man growled.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that-I just want a few words with her.”

  “All right then. I reckon I’ll be going now.”

  “Thanks again, Mr. Gossett.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Click.

  Tom stared at the number Floyd Gossett had given him and realized that the exchange was the one used for the west side-way out in the boonies. He took a deep breath and a swig of water then pushed the “send” button.

  Mindy Conkel answered after two rings.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, is this Mindy?” Tom asked, trying to sound as relaxed as he could despite the fact that the last time he’d talked to this woman was nearly twenty years ago and his nerves were frayed.

  “Yes, and who might this be?”

  “It’s Tom Grayson. Long time no see, eh?”

  “I don’t believe it! When my ex-father-in-law called and told me you were trying to find me, I about flipped out. So what have you been up to?”

  Tom was both surprised and pleased that she seemed so receptive. This was a good thing.

  “Oh, where do I begin? I lived in New York for a few years then moved to Columbus. I’m teaching art history at Capital State, married with a wife and two kids and that’s basically it in a nutshell. What about yourself?”