by Shawn Inmon
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Joe excused himself back to the office to call Stan and Claire and see how much they minded if he brought not one, but two pets home with him.
“A dog and a cat, Joe?” Claire said. “You are never one to do anything halfway, are you? We’ve been petless since our little Cindy passed away. We were just too heartbroken to get another after her. But, of course you can bring them home. As long as you make me their godmother and allow me visitation rights.”
Joe finished the rest of his round, then ran to the little pet store that was right on the main drag. He bought a litter box, litter, a dog collar, leash, chew toys, and food dishes, food, and a bed for each of them. He threw all that into his trunk, then hurried back to the shelter to retrieve his new roommates.
He carried Allen home in the small cardboard carrier the shelter supplied with every adopted cat. Jenny rode curled up as close to Allen as she could get in the spacious back seat of the Oldsmobile. When he opened the door to his small home, Jenny padded inside as though she had been there many times. She had a majestic tail that looked like a feathered broom that cleaned the air, a swish in every step.
Joe let Allen out of his box and he exited with as much dignity as a prisoner can muster under such circumstances. He sniffed the air, then leaped gracefully up onto the arm of Joe’s sofa. He looked out into the tiny back yard where a few bushes grew outside the window. Small chickadees and sparrows hopped through the branches and Allen found this to be acceptable entertainment.
Joe’s lonely little home was lonely no more.
THE NEXT MORNING, JOE made a phone call he’d been putting off for months.
As he dialed, he mused. Maybe I’m starting to see the sense in this. When I was working on my Lifetime To-Do List, I was always focused on that, and I haven’t been doing much on making things happen in my own life. I think I finally understand that’s not what this life is about.
His reflection was interrupted when a voice on the other end of the line said, “Gazette.”
“Can I speak to Shannon Harrison, please?
“One moment.”
Joe listened to silence for fifteen seconds, then heard, “Shannon Harrison.”
“Shannon, it’s Joe Hart. I haven’t saved a single rock star in the last few months. I’m wondering if you’ll take me up on that dinner date now?” While he spoke, he absent-mindedly stroked Allen’s fur, while Allen gnawed on his hand. Jenny laid curled at his feet, oblivious to the fact that Joe’s heart was beating hard.
“I thought you’d given up, since I hadn’t heard from you.”
Joe had no idea what to say to that—flirting and small talk with women were skill sets he did not possess—so he just stayed quiet.
“How about Friday night?”
Yes! Keep control, take it easy.
“Well, I’ll have to check my schedule...” Joe’s sad attempt at a joke fell flat, so he said, “Sure. Since you already know where I live, why don’t you come by here. I’ll introduce you to Jenny and Allen. How about 7:00.”
“O—kay,” Shannon said. “No idea who they are, but...”
“Oh, Jenny and Allen are my new dog and cat.”
“Ah. Okay. I’ll swing by your place around 7:00, then.”
When he hung up the phone, he looked at Allen. “Well, I wasn’t exactly a master of the dating arts, but after almost fifty years, at least I finally have a date.”
Allen congratulated him by nipping him on the hand.
“You are the strangest cat,” Joe mused.
Allen murmured a deep-throated meow of agreement.
Joe showered and got ready to head to the shelter. When he was ready to go, he realized he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do with Jenny and Allen while he was gone. They were both adult, house-trained pets, so he didn’t need to worry about messes, but he didn’t want them getting lonely.
He looked at Allen, draped over the back of the sofa, sound asleep. Jenny, meanwhile, sat on her haunches, tongue lolling, looking at him expectantly.
“I guess it’s you and me, then, girl. I have a hunch Allen’s not going to miss us at all.” He put the leash on Jenny, opened the door and stepped outside. Jenny turned and looked at Allen, still oblivious to them, then wagged her tail and followed.
At the shelter, he led Jenny inside. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought her along with me,” Joe said to Debbie.
“Of course not. She’s always so well mannered, aren’t you Jenny?”
Jenny gave a small woof of agreement and went to Debbie to be petted.
When Joe went to feed, water, and clean, Jenny went along with him. She padded alongside the cart like a returning hero.
“Jenny, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you’re acting a little smug. Like, you’re out here now, and they’re still stuck in there.”
Jenny ignored him, but continued to smile at the other dogs.
When Joe had finished his chores and had a cup of coffee and visit with Debbie, he left for his last chore of the day. He drove and parked in the Safeway parking lot and walked to Newman’s men’s clothing store next door.
He had looked in his closet the night before and discovered a lot of Levi’s, worn t-shirts, a few sweatshirts, and not much else. Not exactly dating material, especially when you are an apparent twenty year old, dating an ostensibly older woman.
Newman’s wasn’t a large store, but they did have a nice selection of men’s suits, plus business casual. Joe couldn’t begin to picture himself in a suit and tie, so he poked around through the more casual section.
If I can’t find something here, I’m going to have to drive all the way to Eugene, and I don’t want to leave Allen alone at home that long.
An older, matronly woman approached Joe. “Good afternoon, thank you for coming in. Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
Joe smiled and said, “Something for a kid on his first date, is what I’m looking for.”
“I see,” the woman said, seriously. “And what does this first date consist of?”
“Just dinner.”
“My boy, it’s never ‘just dinner.’ It’s a chance to get to know someone in a way you haven’t before. Is that your goal?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what it is.”
“Wonderful.” She cast an appraising eye over Joe’s frame. “About a 30 waist, 32 length, and a medium shirt?”
Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “Exactly.”
She let a small smile play across her thin lips. “You are not my first nervous young man coming in for help.”
Fifteen minutes later, Joe walked out with a lighter wallet, but much better equipped for the dating world. He held a bag with three pairs of slacks, a belt, dress socks, and half a dozen different shirts.
“You’ll want to prepare for a second and third date, won’t you?” the woman had asked.
Joe did.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Joe never let his house get dirty, but he spent that Friday cleaning it top to bottom. When he was done, not a dust mote remained, and it smelled like that pleasant mixture of Murphy’s Wood Oil, Pine-Sol, and Ajax. To top it off, he lit a cinnamon scented candle and put it on his dining room table.
He picked out his favorite of the clothes he had bought—a blue button-down long-sleeved shirt and a pair of gray slacks, along with his new belt and shoes—and got dressed. Then, he looked at the clock and realized it was only 4:00.
Why does time drag when you’re waiting for something?
He took Jenny for a long walk around the neighborhood to calm his nerves. When he pushed through the gate to walk back to his place, he saw Claire out in her little garden, picking some tomatoes.
She let loose a long, low whistle. “Who is this young man, and what have you done with my friend Joe?”
Joe twitched the right side of his mouth as if to say, “Really?”
“Just got a date, Claire. Figured I better ditch the jeans.”
<
br /> “Right you are. You are a man of substance and grace. It’s good to let that show from time to time.” She went back to picking her tomatoes and turned away so Joe wouldn’t see how pleased she was.
Finally, 7:00 came. And went. Then 7:15.
Joe’s stomach had been filled with butterflies all day, but now found them replaced by a persistent pain that threatened to get worse.
Finally, the knock came.
Joe opened the door and Shannon was there. She was still dressed for work, in a sensible top and slacks, with her cat’s-eye glasses perched on the end of her nose. She wasn’t exactly turned out, but she did look pretty. She took Joe in, from his new haircut, to his new clothes and shoes. “Oh, my,” she said quietly to herself.
I have no idea which ‘Oh, my,’ that is—the ‘you look great,’ one, or the ‘You’re such a weirdo for getting dressed up’ one.
“Come on in, I’ll introduce you to Allen and Jenny.” Joe stepped back and held the door wide. “Allen is the handsome devil pretending like we don’t exist over there on the couch.” Jenny gave her smallest, most polite woof. “And this eager-to-please dog is Jenny.”
Shannon smiled and said, “So, where do you want to go?”
“I made us a reservation at Burl’s Steakhouse. I guess I should have asked—you’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
Shannon patted her hip, which had a little extra padding. “Are these the hips of a vegetarian? I think not. I love a good steak.”
“Great. Our reservation is for 7:30, so we should get going.” As they walked out the door, he turned and looked back at the pets. Allen continued to ignore him. Jenny sat at full attention, one ear up, the other flopped over, hoping to be invited along.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said to her as he closed the door.
They drove in his Oldsmobile. Joe didn’t know whether to make a joke about the fact he drove an old-person’s car or not. When it came to dating, Joe was as lost as Hansel and Gretel without their crumbs.
Instead of making conversation, he turned the radio on. KMFR was playing Linda Ronstadt’s How Do I Make You. Joe did his best to look out of the corner of his eyes, without being obvious, to see if Shannon liked the music. If she liked it or hated it, she gave no sign.
When the Ronstadt song faded out, it was followed by Forever for You. It seemed to Joe that every time he turned the radio on, it was playing.
“Do you know this song?” Joe asked.
“I think it’s just about impossible to not know this song, if you’ve got ears.”
Joe laughed a little nervously. “That’s what radio stations do, right? Find a song you like, and play it to death, so you’re completely sick of it.”
Shannon nodded.
“My dad wrote this song.”
That pricked up Shannon’s ears. “Wait. I thought your dad died a long time ago.”
“He did. December 1st, 1960. But, he wrote this song in 1959. I think John just recorded it as a thank you.”
“Of course, of course.” A weighted pause, then she asked, “Won’t you get money for that?”
Holy crap! I am such a dummy! Oh my God, it’s the most played song of the summer. The royalties are going to be huge. What am I going to do with all that money?
“Honestly, I hadn’t even thought of it, until now, but yeah. It takes a while. It’s not like, every time a radio station plays it, a penny drops into my bank account.”
‘If it did, you’d be rich, as much as everyone is playing it.” She turned her head and looked at Joe. Riding in the passenger seat, she could only see the unmarred side of his face. “You are one odd duck, Joe Hart. Anyone else I know, that would have been the first thing they thought about. They would have had that money spent a dozen times before they saw it.”
If I say I don’t care much about money, that comes off wrong. Maybe a little pretentious, or maybe spoiled, because I’ve never had to work. This dating thing is a minefield. What to say, how to say it. Maybe the best thing is to just say what I feel and let whatever happens, happen.
“I know I’m lucky in that way. I’ve never really had to think about money. I’m not rich, for sure, but I’ve always had what I need. I can see where that seems like a good thing, and in some ways it is, but it can also be a bad thing. If my mom had needed to go get a job, it probably would have been good for her. Maybe she still would have drunk herself to death, but maybe she wouldn’t.”
Joe rolled to a stop at a red light—one of only a handful of stoplights in Middle Falls—and glanced at Shannon. She was chewing on her lip, but didn’t say anything.
They had a good dinner at Burl’s. For steak lovers, it was hard to go wrong at Burl’s. They both had a thick steak and baked potatoes with gobs of butter, sour cream, and chives.
Once their plates had been cleared away, Joe said, “What made you become a reporter?”
“When I was a kid, my dad bought me a toy printing press. It was kind of a pain, and it took forever to do the typesetting, but I used to print up stories about what was happening in our neighborhood. Lost cat, a mailbox knocked down, I was all over it. Shannon Harris, cub reporter.”
“Did you grow up in Middle Falls? I don’t remember seeing you around in school.”
“No, I didn’t, but I would have been graduating about the time you were in fourth grade, anyway. Middle Falls isn’t my final stop, it’s just a step on the ladder. I want to report for a real paper, like the Seattle Times, or one of the LA or New York papers.”
“Ambition’s a good thing, right?”
Is this just something missing in me? That I don’t want to go somewhere else and climb the ladder higher?
Shannon looked at him as though she could read his mind. “Everybody’s different Joe. We all have different wants and needs. What do you want?”
“Oof. Good question. I guess I want to have friends I can count on, people who care about me. I want to do what I can to make life better for other people.”
“You’re an idealist. You should check out the Peace Corp. You’re just the right age.”
Joe nodded. “I suppose. Now that I have Allen and Jenny, I can’t imagine leaving them, though. They’re my family for now.”
Joe paid the check and they drove home, listening to the radio. When he pulled in behind Shannon’s car, he said, “Do you want to come in? I can make us some coffee.”
“Thanks, Joe. I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow morning. Interviewing the coach of a Peewee football team that’s getting ready to go to the regional tournament. Only the biggest stories for me.”
Joe laughed, but Shannon laid her hand on his. “Listen, this is never going to work. I’m too much older than you, and we’re kind of heading in different directions.” She pulled a pen and a business card out of her pocket and scribbled something on the back of it. “This is my friend Carol’s number. I think you two would be perfect for each other. She has a cat. I’ll call her when I get home and let her know you’re going to call her, so don’t make me look bad, all right?”
Shannon leaned over and brushed her lips against Joe’s cheek. His right cheek. She was out of the car like a shot.
Joe watched her pull away, a small curl of exhaust coming from the tail pipe.
And there it is, folks. My first kiss.
Chapter Forty
Joe did as he was told and called Carol. Shannon was right—they were more compatible. She made a fuss over Allen and Jenny when she first met them, and they both liked the same kind of movies and TV shows. The two of them dated for six months until, over time, she grew more distant. Eventually, she told him that she had begun seeing another man, and that was the end of that.
And there it was, Joe’s first heartbreak, albeit a small one.
Joe dated a few other women over the next few years, but nothing serious ever came from it. Joe’s face made it impossible to mistake him for anyone else. Almost everyone in town knew who he was, and many knew that he had become wealthy, even though he nev
er showed it.
When a woman appeared interested in him, it was hard for Joe to know what, exactly, she was interested in, and so he retreated to the sidelines of the dating game. He had tried it, hadn’t liked it, and wouldn’t miss it.
It took time for the impact of John’s version of Forever for You to show up in his quarterly royalty reports, but when they did, Joe goggled a bit at the numbers. He didn’t fall into the “buy your own island and live like Hugh Hefner” category, but he would certainly never need to work again.
In August of 1983, Joe was still happily living in his small house behind the Fornowskis. He, Allen, and Jenny, along with Stan and Claire in the bigger house, had become a family. He had no idea how he had gotten by before all of them had come into his life.
August is the hottest month in Middle Falls, so Joe often kept his shades drawn to keep out the beating sun and conserve the cool from his small air conditioner. One Saturday, he was fed up with the darkness of being inside and took Jenny for a bonus walk around the neighborhood.
When he got to the street, he saw a small river of water running from the Fornowski’s driveway into the street and eventually the gutter.
That is so unlike Stan. He’d rather enter the Miss America pageant than waste water.
Joe went to investigate and found Stan Fornowski lying face down in his driveway. The hose, still running at full bore, was clutched in his right hand. He had been washing his work truck and fallen beside it. Joe called to Claire and began administering CPR. The ambulance arrived in record time and Stan was still alive when he got to the hospital, but he passed away less than an hour later.
Claire was devastated. She liked to say she had a touch of second sight, but she never saw Stan lying in their driveway with the hose still running. At least, if she did, she turned a blind eye toward it. Joe watched as some of the light went out of the most cheerful person he had ever known.
Joe did everything he could to help Claire adjust to widowhood, but after forty years of marriage, that’s not easy. Especially after forty years of a happy marriage, with many more anticipated.
