Spilled Coffee

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Spilled Coffee Page 17

by J. B. Chicoine


  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you get yourself some cake? There’s plenty left.”

  “Okay.”

  I actually had a mind to leave, but I didn’t like the idea of taking off while Penny was still there. So, I scanned the dwindling crowd for Ricky, and since he was nowhere around, I shoved my hands in my pockets and strode over to the tent. I ducked under a bracing line and stepped beneath the big top, when Doc called, “Ben!”

  He stood in front of the bar with half a glass of something golden in one hand and a cigar in his other. He stepped toward me as I approached, poked the cigar between his teeth, and grabbed my hand.

  “Hello, Doc.”

  “I’m glad you could make it.” He swept a wide gesture. “Whaddaya think?”

  “It’s pretty big.”

  “Yep. The best of everything for my little girl.” He didn’t smile when he said it, and his breath smelled like liquor. “How about a drink, Ben?”

  I shook my head, “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink.”

  He burst out with a guffaw. “I mean ginger ale or Coke or something, not the hard stuff.”

  Idiot! “Yes, sir, that sounds good.”

  He escorted me to the bar and landed me in front of the bartender.

  “A Coke,” I said.

  “On the rocks,” Doc added, grinding the cigar butt underfoot.

  As soon as I had my drink in hand, Doc led me to a table at the far end of the tent. Crickets chirped and a refreshing breeze cooled my neck. Doc let go of a long sigh as he pulled out a chair and sat.

  “Oh, I’m getting too old for this.” He nudged the chair beside him. As I took my place, he stretched his legs and leaned back, taking another sip. Setting his unfinished drink on the linen tablecloth, he arched a brow at me. “Have you had a good time tonight, Ben?”

  The whole night flashed in front of me. “Yeah.” I didn’t consider it an untruth. There was a lot about tonight that had been great.

  Between the house and the tent, the happily married couple stepped outside in travel clothes. Karen hugged guest after guest as Dick followed suit.

  Doc folded his hands above his belt. “My girls sure looked beautiful today, didn’t they?”

  I nodded and sipped my Coke.

  Doc took another gulp and sighed again. He rubbed his chin.

  “Fathers and daughters ….” His eyes watered as he stared off in Karen’s direction. I looked away but glanced back as he continued. “So much easier than fathers and sons.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  His questioning gaze flashed at me.

  I elaborated, “I mean, my sister gets along fine with my dad. But not me.”

  “I hope the two of you can mend things while you’re still young. It can make or break your adult relationship.”

  I just listened.

  “It’s a shame to have regrets … when things could have been different.”

  I wanted to ask about Brad, about what had happened tonight, but it wasn’t any of my business, and I didn’t want to stoke a sore subject.

  As if Doc sensed my curiosity, he looked at me askance and said, “My son came today.”

  “Is he still here?”

  He shook his head. “Guess he didn’t have the nerve to show up without a few drinks under his belt, like I’m some kind of horrible monster.” He continued staring off in Karen and Dick’s direction as they hugged their way through the few remaining guests. “Don’t know where I went wrong with my boy, what made him go the way he did ….” His eyes shot back to mine, as if catching himself rambling. “It’s a long complicated story, and I’ve had more to drink than a man should when trying to explain family history, especially when there’s no explaining it. Besides, you don’t need to hear all the sordid details.”

  I wanted to say something helpful or reassuring, but mostly I didn’t want to talk about his son anymore—or about my father. I squirmed in the chair and downed the last of my Coke.

  As Doc sat forward in his seat, he patted my back. “You’re a good boy, son.”

  I swallowed hard. I wished I were Doc’s son. I would be the best son in the world, and I wouldn’t disappoint him, ever.

  Just then, Karen called out, “Daddy! We’re ready to leave!”

  With a grunt and his hands on his knees, he pushed himself up and out of his chair.

  I rose with him. “Thanks for inviting me, Doc.”

  “You’re welcome.” He arched his back, gave mine another pat, and headed toward Mr. and Mrs. Dick—whatever-his-last-name-was.

  Doc gave his daughter a bear hug and wiped his eyes. I hoped they were happy tears, but I sensed they weren’t. Seeing him all emotional tugged at my own composure. As I drew in a deep breath, Ricky joined them, which added to my discomfort.

  I had seen enough of Doc’s weird new family members for one night and took a roundabout route over to Penny. At that point, I was tired and didn’t care if I embarrassed my sister. I came up behind her as she hung on Percy, giggling and making an all-out idiot of herself.

  “Penny—” I firmly nudged her shoulder. “We should go home now.”

  She turned. I expected her to be mad, but she burst out laughing. “Benjie!”

  “Come on Penny, it’s late.”

  She swayed and giggled, “Late? What time is it?”

  Percy and Candace drifted toward a bunch of other guests.

  “I don’t know.” I tapped my crystal. “My watch is busted.”

  She grabbed my arm and grinned. “Oh, no … that’s too bad ….”

  I squinted and tried to make her look at me. “Are you drunk?”

  “Me? No, I haven’t had anything at all to drink.”

  “Then what’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m just happy.” She stood up straighter and yawned. “Yeah, I guess it’s beddy-bye time.”

  She walked over to Percy and the others, said a few words, waved goodbye and came back to me. “You coming?”

  “I’ve got the boat. You wanna ride?”

  “Nah. I’ll walk,” she said as she turned and waved at me over her shoulder. She sauntered back to the corner of the house and disappeared into the shrubbery and shadows. I scratched my head, befuddled at her mood. Maybe it was infatuation. Girls.

  I wasn’t in the mood for saying goodbye to everyone, but I looked for Sunshine. When I caught her eye, I waved. She blew me a kiss and smiled. That was about as close to a goodnight kiss as I could hope for.

  I scanned the group one last time to make sure Ricky wasn’t lurking somewhere. My path to the beach was clear, so I headed down the lawn to my boat. When my feet sank into the sand, I let out a sigh. What a night! I couldn’t wait to climb in bed and replay all the best parts of the evening, the way Amelia looked and smelled, and how close I had come to her rosebud lips.

  As I stepped toward my boat, a voice came from behind. “Hurrying off without saying goodnight?”

  Ricky. Crap!

  I turned, stared into his face, and squared my posture.

  He stepped closer. “I guess you think you are pretty clever.”

  I said nothing and glanced over his shoulder.

  “Looking for your buddies? They’re all too wasted to notice you down here. But you could squeal and I bet they’d come running.”

  I still said nothing. I wasn’t sure what to do, but screaming like a girl was out of the question. Bad enough that my heart was freaking right out of my chest.

  Now Ricky loomed over me. I stepped back. He wouldn’t fight a kid, would he? I mean, I would fight him for all I was worth, but I didn’t think he would throw a punch, unprovoked. He didn’t. Instead, his big mitt came at my head as he shoved my face, pushing me back.

  “Twerp,” he laughed.

  I fell backward onto my haunches at the water’s edge as he shoved my boat out into the cove. My whole body ignited like a torch. As he turned to strut away, he walked smack into Lenny’s vested chest.

  “What the hell i
s this? You pickin’ a fight with a kid half your size?” Lenny’s voice rumbled. He didn’t touch Ricky, but he could’ve walloped him for the way Ricky reeled back.

  Ricky rebounded, getting in Lenny’s face, “You wanna fight me?”

  “Actually, I really do. I ain’t a peace-lovin’ brand of hippie.”

  “Come on then.” Ricky raised his fist like a boxer, ready to deflect a punch and plant one of his own.

  Lenny chuckled as he took a step closer. Face to face, Lenny looked like he had the size advantage, but his movements were sluggish, whereas Ricky was all hyped up, even if he also appeared unsteady. I came to my feet and stood off to the side, unsure of what my role was in all this. Somehow, it was no longer about me.

  As Lenny stepped closer, he swayed and Ricky laughed but didn’t let down his guard. “You’re so stoned you couldn’t hit me if your life depended on it.”

  Lenny smiled. “Yeah, I’m pretty wasted, but I still know two things—” his voice was low and lazy. “Even if you whoop me, I can still rearrange your pretty teeth. So you gotta ask yourself how much you like your dental work. And second—Percy is up there just waiting for my signal. So, do you feel like having both our unwashed, free-lovin’ hippie bodies pummeling your pretty face?”

  Sure enough, Percy stood halfway down the lawn. Ricky wavered and backed off.

  Lenny closed the distance between them. “Now, apologize to Ben.”

  It struck me that Lenny had called me by my name, and not Fixer-man, as if this was far from lighthearted banter.

  Ricky snorted, letting out an incredulous huff, his fist still up. His footing faltered. For the first time, intense anger flared Lenny’s nostrils and came up into his eyes as he removed his glasses.

  “Apologize,” Lenny said through gritted teeth.

  Ricky shot a glance at Percy and then at me. His jaw shifted and tensed. “Sorry kid.” His words came out stiff and angry. “It was a misunderstanding.”

  Lenny stepped aside. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

  Ricky backed away, staying well out of fist-throwing distance and took off for the big tent, cutting a wide girth around Percy who paused and watched him.

  “You okay, Fixer-man?”

  I brushed sand from my hands. “Yeah.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say thanks, because I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or not. If Lenny hadn’t shown up, Ricky would have walked off, feeling the victor, leaving me humiliated, yeah, but it would have settled the score. Now—well, I wasn’t sure how Ricky would try to even things up.

  “Okay, then,” Lenny said and walked off, up toward Percy who had started back to the group.

  I waded into the water to retrieve my boat, cooling my overheated body. With the bowline in hand, I tied it to my waist and swam as hard as I could, hitting the water with all the force I wished I could have unleashed on Ricky. I might not have been any match for him, but I could have rearranged his nose for sure. Contrary to Dad’s impression of me, I was capable of standing up to bullies; it just made more sense to walk away—unless they were picking on some defenseless weakling. Then I knew how to land a punch. Problem was, every bully bigger than me took that as a challenge, and I didn’t like fighting. I would never forget the feel—the sound—of my fist smashing into flesh and bone. It made me sick to my stomach.

  When I snuck up into our cottage, I stumbled into an overturned chair beside the table. I righted it and then cracked open Penny’s door. She lay on her bed, still in her clothes, snoring. At least she was safe.

  Chapter 22

  On the launch-pad boulder, lying on my back with my eyes closed, I still see the party lights twinkling on the cove. When I open my eyes, that twinkling is flickering sunlight, creeping into treetops and dancing on my eyelids. I sit and breathe the scent of an incoming storm. The barometric change pushes a breeze from the east, through the Narrows, and ruffles the water. It cools my chin. That’s right—I shaved. My sights return to Whispering Narrows. I envision the big tent and the music. I could indulge another fantasy about Amelia, given the freshness of the memory, but I’m no longer in the mood.

  Ever since that night, I have always had a hard time at weddings—funerals too, but not as much as weddings. Funerals are the consequence of bad things that happen; weddings are the incubators of trouble.

  Looking back on it, planning my own wedding was where my relationship with Gretchen unraveled. She wanted a big wedding with all the accouterments. Her parents are loaded and wanted to dote on her, which was fine. I had heard enough of Penny’s talk about a woman’s dream wedding to know how important a day it is. It seems a girl’s entire childhood revolves around the fantasy of her wedding, from the gown, to the cake, to the bridal party, right down to the lacey blue garter. I, on the other hand, would have been happy to elope. Or at least to have restricted the ceremony to immediate family, but that posed a whole other dilemma.

  Gretchen knew most of the milestones of my life. She also knew about Dad, but I never filled her in on all the finer details of what had happened. And Mom—she was old, so residing in a nursing facility didn’t spark questions; I lapsed into silence there, too. As for my sister, Gretchen knew only sketchy details regarding Penny’s past. It didn’t seem like my place to talk about my sister’s history. And Frankie. Well, lots of siblings don’t keep in touch—nothing unusual about that. Consequently, all the subtleties of my past didn’t start to surface until it came to picking out a reception hall and caterer—and narrowing down the guest list. I wish I could say that what drove Gretchen and me apart was her shock and horror over what I had told her about my past, but no, it was my inability to open up and share any of it. She walked away because I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. That’s when my tick started. Go figure.

  Gretchen and I had spent so much of our relationship sorting through her past dysfunction and need for validation, that we conveniently overlooked mine. I am pretty good at seeing to the needs of others; it makes me feel as if I have something worth contributing in a relationship. I’m a great support and I know it. I’m not saying that isn’t a fine quality, but it might be subterfuge. My safety mechanism. A sly way of sidestepping and overlooking—a way of not dealing with my own dirty secrets. Maybe subterfuge and hiding secrets is in my blood. Or maybe it’s a learned behavior. Like denial. Mom had honed those traits to perfection.

  The morning after the big wedding at Whispering Narrows, Mom said she had heard Penny stumbling around in the middle of the night—heard her right through the ear plugs she had worn to snuff the party noise. I could imagine the huge crash and clamor of the toppling chair, which would have sent most parents rushing from their room to investigate.

  “Did you get confused and lose your way to the bathroom?” Mom asked.

  Penny glanced at me, the front strands of her hair crimped from the braids she had worn the night before. “Yeah, um, I must have been sleepwalking. I stubbed my toe on the kitchen chairs. Sorry I woke you, Mom.”

  “Oh, I dropped right back off, thanks to the little sleepy pill I took.”

  Sleepy pill? Since when had Mom been taking sleeping pills?

  “Really Mom?” Penny scrunched her nose with an air of condescension. “Barbiturates?”

  Mom cocked her head and squinted.

  “What!” Penny shrugged, “I learned about downers in health class.”

  Mom placed the milk bottle in the refrigerator. “Oh Penny, it’s just a little over-the-counter pill. No harm in that.”

  That accounted for how easy it had been to sneak out at night. I filed that bit of information for future reference.

  “Sure, Mom.” Penny rolled her eyes and brought her cereal bowl to the sink.

  As Penny sidled past, Mom touched the fringes of her kinky hair. “This is new.”

  “Yeah ….” Penny glanced at me. “I was thinking of getting a perm and thought this would be a good way to see how it looks.”

  “Nonsense. You’d have to use roller
s. I brought mine. Maybe we could have some fun with them, later.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Penny’s voice trailed as she made her way to the bathroom.

  Frankie came out of our room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  Mom tousled his hair. “Did all that party racket keep you awake last night, Frankie?”

  “Huh? I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  Nothing ever kept that kid awake at night—not even a bad conscience.

  After Mom went down to the water with her Ladies Home Journal and her lemonade, Penny invited me to ride bikes, which meant providing her with an alibi for the beach, as if she needed one these days. Mom seemed not to care where we were as long as one of us kids—usually me—could round up the others for supper.

  Since I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see Amelia, I declined Penny’s invitation and hung around camp, swimming and messing around with Frankie and Skippy. I had forgotten how much fun it was doing kid stuff, like catching frogs and skipping stones. Promising we would stay within arm’s distance of shore, I convinced Frankie to let me take him in the boat, along the edge of the cove, to find more spawning pools.

  He and Skip piled into the rowboat with their buckets and nets. I grabbed a fishing pole and beached the boat to make it easier for Frankie to climb in. The poor kid was white with anxiety. He clutched the sides of the boat as I stepped in. We sat there for a minute so he could get used to it.

  “See, it’s just like being in the bathtub,” I said as I dug the oar into the sand and pushed off with care.

  “It’s rocking—It’s rocking!” he squealed.

  “You’re fine,” I said in my most soothing voice. “We can turn back anytime you want.”

  Mom glanced up from her reading. “Oh, Frankie, I’m so proud of you! What a brave boy.”

  Now bolstered, Frankie shook his head, “No. No, I don’t want to go back.”

  “Okay.” I continued rowing, keeping us close to shore, making my way toward Whispering Narrows. Anytime I came close to a branch or boulder, he grabbed it, but when we found a colony of frogs or a turtle, he seemed to forget all about sitting in a tippy boat.

 

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