by Shawn Inmon
What do I want in this life? Knowing what I don’t want—Christopher—only goes so far. Do I want to be alone? Make it on my own? Blaze my own path? Or would someone like Danny be a good partner to have? He has always seemed sweet, I know he’s got a good career ahead of him, and that’s a good start. That’s jumping way ahead, but stranger things have happened. I think I can make it happen, if I put my mind to it.
She noticed that Danny and Lisa were done, so she hopped up and tossed her own leftovers in the garbage, then retrieved their tray. I remember this day so clearly from last time through. Now, everything is close to the same, but slightly different. It’s like an echo returning from a distant canyon.
THE NEXT DAY, SHE GOT up early and went to church with her family, then hung around the kitchen for a few hours, getting pointers from her mother. She learned how to season and care for a cast iron frying pan. How to make her secret marinade for chicken—beer was the secret ingredient. How to make perfect-every-time pie crust. The fact she already knew these things didn’t detract from her joy in having her mother teach them to her again.
After she and Doris had the kitchen cleaned up, Veronica said, “I’m going to walk over and see Ruthie. I’ll make sure I’m back in time for dinner, though.”
“Ruthie? I haven’t seen her in so long. I thought the two of you must have had a falling out. She was always a sweet girl. Say hello to Mrs. Miller for me.”
I guess we did have a falling out, in a way, but I made up for it once, and now I’ve got to start making up for it again. I want to make sure all the things I fixed last time will stay fixed this time.
The scene with Ruthie played out essentially as it did the first time. Mrs. Miller was pleased to see her, Ruthie wasn’t, but by copping to her past sins, she and Ruthie began to rebuild the bridge of trust.
As she walked home from Ruthie’s toward a homemade dinner she had helped prepare, she had time to think.
I learned a lot last life. I just needed to give some people a chance. Mom wanted to help, but didn’t know how to go about offering it. I don’t know what drove Ruthie and I apart, but whatever it was, she was willing to forgive me. She shoved her hands deep in her jacket pockets. But then, there are people like Christopher. There’s no saving people like that.
She turned left on McGillicuddy, toward her house.
If there was a way to make things work with Christopher, I couldn’t find it. Is it that we’re incompatible, no matter what? Or was he so infected with that privileged image of a 1950s male ideal that he would only accept a partner he could control? I don’t know, but I’m not going to worry about it again. If he can’t help me bring Sarah and Nellie back to life, he’s useless to me.
She opened the door to home, and the smell of a pork roast filled her nostrils.
No matter what, I’m starting to figure things out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Veronica’s first day at school was also easier this third time around. She was frustrated she didn’t remember her locker number, or her combination. She had to go through the whole charade of pretending it was stuck again.
This time, when she got the numbers—Locker 426, combination 22-8-31—she vowed to memorize the numbers and tuck them deep into her memory. If I’m going to have to go through this life again and again, I’ve got to make it easier on myself. The only thing I take with me when I go back is my memory, so I’ve got to get better at remembering things. Especially things I need to know, like my locker combination. Maybe other things, too.
She was walking toward first period, but stopped dead in her tracks. For instance, what if I learned how to read the stock pages in the newspaper. I could figure out what stocks are going to be the very best every year, and make smart investments. I won’t be able to memorize too many, probably, but maybe one or two for each year might be enough. It won’t help this life, but if I’m stuck doing this over and over, it would be nice not to have to worry about money.
She floated through the rest of the day, listening to lectures and doing schoolwork she had already done a few years before. School would actually be fun, if I was learning something new. I was never all that interested in college before, but I think I want to do that now. If I learn something, I’ll get to take that with me too, if I start over.
At lunch, she stopped by the school counselor’s office. The solid wood door was half-open and had a small sign on it that said, “Mr. Harris.” The inside of the office was somewhat dark and dingy, with the overhead fluorescent lights turned off. The crowded desk was lit only by a goose-necked desk lamp. Veronica knocked on the half-open door. “Mr. Harris? Do you have a minute? Can I ask you a few questions?”
Charles Harris was also slightly dingy, in his worn sweater vest and pince-nez glasses. He was bent over a file, reading something, but looked up and peered at her owlishly. “Of course. Come on in. What can I help you with?”
“I haven’t filled out any applications for college, yet, but I want to go. What can I do about it now?”
“It’s getting pretty late in the game. Colleges have been accepting people for months, now.” Harris stood up and turned to a three-drawer filing cabinet behind his desk. He looked at Veronica with a blank expression, then snapped his fingers and said, “McAllister, right? Okay, let me see where you are.”
He riffled through a drawer, shut it, and then moved to the drawer below it. A moment later, he pulled a file folder out and returned to his desk. He opened it and ran his finger along several columns.
And there it is. The legendary permanent record. Dum dum DUM! I wonder if it has that time I got in trouble on the playground in third grade. Veronica wiped a hand across her mouth to try and keep from smiling too broadly.
“Well, your grades are fine. Not great, but good enough. Through last semester, you had a 3.25 grade point average. If you were to get all A’s for this semester, you might bump that up a bit. What do you have for extracurricular activities? Have you held any student government offices?
“No.”
“Any clubs that you were an officer in?”
I have no idea. Not that I remember.
“No.”
Harris turned in his chair and looked at Veronica. “Let me ask you. What do you want to do?”
“I’m honestly not sure yet.”
“Nursing? Teaching? Maybe accounting? Companies are always looking to hire a good bookkeeper.”
“Is that it? Is that the full spectrum of choices for me? What if I want to be a doctor, or an attorney, or start my own business?”
Harris gave a small shoulder shrug. “If you wanted to be a doctor, I would expect better grades than this.”
“And for me to be a man.”
“Not absolutely, no. But, I’m going to be honest with you. For you to get into a college with an aim toward medical school, you would have to be better than the boys who are trying to get in. I don’t see that here.”
Veronica nodded. I don’t think the ceiling was made of glass in 1958. I think it was reinforced concrete. But, I haven’t helped myself, either. If I wanted to go to a great school, I would have had to work a lot harder than I did. I needed grades that were better than just ‘keep Mom off my back.’ I have to take responsibility for that.
“There is another avenue you could consider. Middle Falls City College is a good school. You could go there for two years and get an Associate’s Degree in something you’re interested in. Then, if you studied hard and got good grades while you were there, you could go on and finish up at a four year school.”
That is not a terrible idea. I’m sure Mom and Dad would let me stay with them while I was going to school. I could keep working shifts at Artie’s to pay for things, then I could decide in a few years what I want to do.
“Do you have an application for that?”
“Of course.” He opened the top drawer in his desk and pulled several pieces of paper that were stapled together out and handed it to Veronica. “You won’t have any trouble gett
ing in, though. They’ll be glad to have you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harris.”
On the way back to her locker, she saw Danny Coleman, talking to some friends outside the boy’s bathroom. He was the very picture of a fifties-era high school dream. He was tall and well-built, his dark hair in a crewcut, wearing his red and black letterman’s jacket, adorned with patches for football, baseball, and track.
As she passed the group of boys, she veered slightly to brush right by Danny. She said, “Hey, Danny,” in a low voice.
Danny’s head snapped around and he watched her continue on down the hall.
“Hey, Danny,” one of the other boys mimicked, and the others laughed.
“Whatever, doofuses. Are pretty girls walking up to you to say hi?”
They had to admit, they were not.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Veronica rode the #12 bus to Artie’s after school, went in through the back entrance, and changed into her uniform.
When she walked into the grill area, Perry Zimmerman saw her and said, “Gosh, is it that late already? How time flies when you’re having fun.” He glanced up at the Coca-Cola clock, and said, “Grab something quick, then you’re on. We’re a little shorthanded today. Lilly called in sick.”
“Sure, Zimm. Do you want me to start now?”
Perry looked at the mostly-empty parking lot, and said, “No, go ahead. I’ll need you at full strength before the night’s over.”
“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Veronica said, and wandered over to the grill where DJ had just a couple of buns and burgers on.
“Well, if it isn’t Middle Falls answer to Susan Hayward.”
Veronica blushed slightly, then dropped the smallest of curtsies.
“What’s new with you, DJ?”
DJ began to work his magic on a burger for her. “Just trying to live up to the heavy responsibility that comes with being Middle Falls’ greatest fry cook. Hey, did Zimm say Lilly isn’t coming in today?”
“Sure did. Why?”
“No reason.”
There’s obviously a reason.
Veronica tilted her head to the right, then reached out and tickled DJ right in the ribs.
“You should know better than to try and lie to me, DJ.”
DJ handed her the basket. A slight panic was on his face.
Reality dawned. “Oh, my gosh. You’re sweet on Lilly. Well, I don’t blame you. She’s a wonderful girl.”
With a hint of desperation, DJ leaned in close, and said, “Don’t tell her, K?”
“I won’t, but you should. If you don’t, some rich guy in a convertible will come in and scoop her up one of these days.” Since that’s exactly what I remember happening.
Veronica took her meal out to the dining room and looked at it.
So simple. A burger and fries. And yet, I could eat this every day. Every day. At least until I get a little older and the middle-aged spread starts in earnest.
She gulped the meal down much faster than her mother would have approved of, then hustled off to work. The parking lot was filling up.
Just before the sun set and the whole drive-in was lit by the golden light of a fading spring day, Danny Coleman pulled in and parked. When Veronica saw him, she waved and smiled as she went about her duties.
A few minutes later, she delivered his food.
“Thanks, Ronnie. And, thanks for saying hi at school today. That was nice.”
“I heard your friends giving you a hard time. Sorry.”
“No, nothing to be sorry about! Busting on each other is what we do.”
“Oh, good. I didn’t want to be responsible for it.” She turned to go back inside.
“Hey, Ronnie?” he said to her retreating back.
Veronica slowed and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“What time do you get off?”
“I was supposed to get off at eight, but Lilly called in sick, so I’ll bet Zimm’s going to want me to close. Thanks for reminding me. I better call my Dad and tell him not to come pick me up until then.”
“Umm,” Danny said. He had the look of an eight year old boy asking for a cookie, not the starting quarterback on the football team. He squinted at her. “I could give you a ride home, if you don’t want to make your dad come out so late.”
Veronica considered this. Would Mom be okay with that? Would Dad be okay with missing his bedtime burger?
“I’ll have to call home and check. I’ll let you know before you get done with your food.”
Veronica hustled off and found she was several orders behind already. “Hey, Zimm. Are you going to need me to close tonight?”
“I hate to ask you. I know it’s a school night, but do you think you could?”
“Can I use the phone to call home and see if it’s all right?”
“Sure, sure. Take these orders out, then you can use the phone in my office.”
Perry Zimmerman’s office had once been a janitor’s closet that Artie had converted into a space where Perry could do his paperwork. Veronica slipped behind the tiny desk, picked up the phone and dialed home. If Zimm ever gains a few pounds, he won’t be able to get behind his own desk.
When Doris answered, Veronica said, “Hey, Mom? We’re down a carhop, and Perry asked me if I could work until about 9:15 instead of 8:00. Is that okay?”
“How much homework do you have?”
“I had some Geometry, but I got it done in sixth period.”
“That’s fine. I’ll have your father come by then.”
“Mom, do you remember Danny Coleman? His parents are Stan and Eve, and his brother was friends with Johnny? He and I are friends, and he’s here right now. He said he can give me a ride home, if that’s all right.”
“Friends, huh?” A few seconds of silence, as Doris weighed her options. “I suppose that will be all right. You’re almost ready to graduate. I want you home by 9:30, though, understood?”
“Sure, Mom, if it’s going to be later than that, I’ll call.”
“Don’t call. Just be home by 9:30. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Veronica hung up the phone and on the way to pick up new orders, she saw Perry. “Mom said I can stay, Zimm.”
Perry flashed a quick smile and a thumbs-up as he took an order at the window.
The next order was a delivery right next to where Danny was parked. Perfect. I can tell Danny he can give me a ride home at the same time.
She grabbed the tray and went first to Danny’s station wagon. “My mom said I can get a ride home with you ton—“ she cut off in mid-sentence when she saw the new Thunderbird sitting next to Danny’s car.
“Ronnie? You okay?” Danny asked.
Veronica had momentarily lost the power of speech. I knew I would see him eventually, but I wasn’t ready for it. She remembered she had been in the middle of a sentence. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She shook her head a bit. “Do you still want to give me a ride home?”
“Yes. What time?”
“We close at 9:00, but it takes me a few minutes to go through the closing procedure. Maybe 9:15?”
“Perfect. Okay, I’m gonna head for home, then, but I’ll be back.” Danny put the wagon into reverse and backed out. When he did, there was nothing between Veronica and the Thunderbird. She realized she was still holding Christopher’s tray.
He rolled the window down and started to speak. Before he could, Veronica said, “Let me guess. New car, so you don’t want the tray on the window.”
Christopher looked slightly abashed, but smiled, and nodded.
“That’s fine. Here’s your food,” she said, handing it through the window. “That’s forty cents.”
Christopher looked at her a little strangely, caught off guard by her abruptness. Nonetheless, he reached for his wallet, pulled out a dollar and handed it to her. “Can you just give me back two quarters?”
Veronica handed him his food, accepted the dollar, and clicked out two quarters and a dime and handed them to
him.
“Here,” he said, handing her back the dime. I meant for you to have this.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Christopher Belkins. Not now, not ever.” She turned and left a confused young man in her wake as she went to deliver the rest of the orders that were stacking up.
WHEN 9:00 ROLLED AROUND, Perry Zimmerman turned off the neon overhead sign. That was the signal to all denizens of Middle Falls that they would have to wait until at least 11:00 a.m. the next day to get their hamburger fix.
It had been a long, long day for Veronica. First day back at school—again—a meeting with the guidance counselor, flirting a little with Danny, and finally, telling Christopher off. Even if he was completely confused by it, it still made me feel better.
Veronica moved around the small dining room with a round tray that had containers of salt, pepper, and ketchup, filling the smaller containers on the table. There were no plastic ketchup dispensers at Artie’s—only real glass bottles, so she also carried a small funnel to fill them. She was halfway through the task when she noticed Danny’s station wagon pulling up. She gave him a wave.
“Is that your ride?” Perry asked.
“Yep.”
“No Dad tonight?”
“No, my slave driver boss made me work past his bedtime, so I had to rely on the kindness of strangers.”
“Funny girl.”
Veronica finished setting everything up for the next day. She wrote her time down on her time card—Don’t want to miss out on that extra dollar!—and said goodnight to Perry and DJ. They would be there for some time, counting down the till and cleaning the grill, respectively. She went out the front door and found that Danny had pulled his car around so he was waiting right outside the front door.
As soon as he saw Veronica, he hopped out of the driver’s side and opened the passenger door. He didn’t make a show of it, like Sir Walter Raleigh laying his cape across a puddle. He just did it.
