by Lass Small
He started the car and eased it from the compound. He glanced at her. She was looking at the side street. She looked around a lot, he’d noticed.
Few women kept everything in sight. Marcia was aware of where she was and who all was around. Women…actually, women weren’t always that observant.
Was she looking for—another man? Someone other than Edgar Hollingsworth? He wasn’t chopped liver. But he was leaving Illinois. He was going to California.
He’d take her back to her apar—to the interim apartment, and he’d let go of her.
How could he “let go” of her when the only time he’d held her was when they were dancing? He looked over at the silent woman. She didn’t say much. She could talk, but the way she talked was cheeky and snotty. She thought she was equal to men.
Watching the street, glancing at the sidewalks and the cross streets, Ed also glanced at the silent woman. Was it her silence that attracted his desire to ruffle her? What caught her attention?
Why should he care? He wasn’t interested. Not in her or any other woman. He was going to California. He’d call John the very next day and talk to him. Feel out the job.
He’d like to feel her out. That woman who was over there not two feet away but acting as if she was already safely home.
It must be kind of tough on a woman going out with an unknown man. She’d taken a big risk coming out with a man so much older and more experienced than she. Maybe she was stupid. Then he wondered if she was actually a tramp.
After all, Marcia had the apartment from Elinor. That was a clue as to her contacts. Maybe Marcia would have a couple of men living with her, just like Elinor had.
Ed looked over at Marcia. Naw. She wasn’t alluring enough. She didn’t know any tricks to take tricks. She was just a female.
An interesting one.
Not really. She wasn’t chatty. She just looked around. She hadn’t paid her half of the dinner bill nor had she returned his loan for her gambling spree.
He’d never considered she’d repay his stake. He’d invited her to go with him. Staking her was part of the date. She’d fed him supper. He’d taken her out for dessert.
They were already at the apartment house. He pulled up to the entrance and got out. She opened her own door and was out before he could help her.
She said, “It was a lovely evening. Thank you.”
“I’ll see you to your door.”
“No need. I’ll be okay.”
“My father told me that I’d have to do this until I was married.”
She questioned, “Did that keep you from marrying? You have a door fetish?”
He sighed with some patient drama. “You owe me a kiss.”
She had the gall to inquire, “Why?”
“I’ve been a good host, I’ve spent the entire evening entertaining you and I have a tension headache.”
She dug into her rather bulky purse. “I have an aspirin here somewhere. We’ll fix that headache right now.”
He expanded the premise. “A kiss does it. I can’t take aspirin. I have to be kissed by a nubile woman. Preferably a nubile virgin.”
She looked at him with interest. “Does that sort of baloney work for you?”
“With tenderhearted women, it does. Are you tenderhearted?”
“No.” She came up with a small bottle. She set the bulky purse on the sidewalk by her feet and opened the aspirin bottle.
With a serious face, he said, “Aspirin doesn’t do it for me.”
“Oh.” She observed him. There was a ghost of a smile that had touched her lips. Was it a smile or the beginnings of a sneer? A woman that age shouldn’t be that smart.
She asked, “So. What do you do for a headache.” It really wasn’t a question. She was just curious what he’d say.
“Baseball. Tomorrow the Chiefs play. Go with me to the game and my headache will be cured.”
She considered him quite seriously. “I’ll have to see if I can arrange the time.”
“I’ll help you paint.” My God, the ultimate sacrifice!
“No.”
She’d said it so quickly that he frowned at her.
She amended, “I’ll see if I can get my day’s painting in earlier. I’ll have to let you know. I’ll leave a message on your phone by noon. Would that be too late?”
“I’ll come over.”
“No.” It was quickly said.
Ed was caught by that. “Why not?”
“It’s my obligation. I’ll call you by noon.”
He frowned. “That won’t give us much time.”
“I’ll sing the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ to you on the way—if I can manage to go.”
By then, they were at her interim apartment. She had her keys out as her dad had obviously taught her. She unlocked the door, and he stood watching her. Why had he invited her to the ball game? What idiot thing had made his mouth blurt out the invitation?
She had accepted.
She opened the door and turned. “It was a lovely evening. I haven’t been so lavishly entertained in all my life. It was elegant. And so are you.”
Then she stretched up along his body and kissed him!
Before he realized he hadn’t been hit on the back of his head by a four-by-four, he was still only beginning to move his hands up—and she closed the door.
That quick!
He was still reeling from her kiss. How’d a twenty-three-year-old ever learn to do that?
In something of a paralyzed shock, he turned slowly and got to find out that going downstairs takes more concentration than he’d ever realized. Either that, or someone had rearranged the stairs.
He got into his car and drove around for a while. Since he’d lived in Peoria all his life, he didn’t get lost. He finally found his way back to the compound. Then he walked around rather aimlessly.
He realized he was on the street below her interim window. He felt the urge to yowl like a tomcat. She’d probably heave down one of her paint-splattered boots.
He walked back toward the compound a changed man. Changed? Entrapped? Of course not. It had just been a while since he’d been kissed that way. How rude of her not to carry a warning sign.
How embarrassing to be sundered by a neophyte’s kiss. At his age? She was fourteen years younger than he! What in hell were the kids of today coming to?
On the sloppily plotted way back to the compound, Ed decided it wasn’t her skill that had boggled him so shockingly. It was his almost six month acrid desert of being out of a job and being only friendly with uninterested women.
Ed hadn’t had a kiss like that in too long. He was vulnerable. Well, they’d be at the ball game, so he ought to be relatively safe tomorrow.
At his place, he stripped, took a cold shower, two aspirin and drank a cup of warm milk. All night long, he slept the sleep of the gods who don’t need sleep, and he chased young females in wisps of gossamer through sheep pastures.
Ed wakened with dark circles under his eyes and a disgruntled attitude. He was thirty-seven years old and past all this nonsense. After the ball game, he’d mark the new woman off his list.
List? What list?
Of course, he went to the apartment building to look around. Everything was being taken care of on schedule. The carpenters for the seriously needed repair work were courteous but went on working. No one had time for him. He went to his parents’ house and sat talking to his dad at the kitchen table.
His dad asked, “Who is she?”
Ed looked up in shock. “Who is who?”
His mother corrected, “Whom.”
“What’re’ya talking about?”
His mother said, “Don’t slur your words together.”
His dad laughed.
That irritated the liver out of Ed. He soon excused himself, kissed his mother’s cheek, patted his dad’s shoulder…and left.
It was almost noon. He hurried home and punched his answering machine. Charlie had called. He sounded better. They were having a supper pa
rty on Friday. Bring a French loaf.
Carl had called to say hello. Call back.
John from California called, “You can see the state is stable. Come see us.”
And the neophyte had called to say, “It’s a go! See you at noon. I’ve been singing scales all night and will be able to do justice to the national anthem.”
Sassy. This was the last time he’d see her. It was just a good thing he was rejecting her.
How interesting it was that she was getting easier with him just as he was freezing up. Hmmm.
Marcia was at the outside door dressed in a long-sleeved cotton shirt, long cotton trousers, a billed hat and walking sports shoes. She had an over-the-shoulder looped carryall.
She didn’t wait for him to get out and escort her to the car; he just had to reach over and unlock the door as she tugged at the door handle,
She grinned and said, “This is the perfect day.”
How come she hadn’t been this enthusiastic when he was considering her? He was rejecting her. This was the last time they’d be together. He could be pleasant.
She moved her bag carefully and explained, “I realize we’ll eat hot dogs. You can’t go to a baseball game and eat anything else and still be true to tradition.”
He nodded soberly.
She laughed. “I brought lemonade. I figured during the afternoon you’d want a couple of beers. You can’t drive under the influence, so I’ll be sober and drive you home. You’re only a mile from the apartments, so I can walk back. You are allowed, this time, to drink beer but not get soused.”
“Soused?”
“You may indulge but not get drunk.”
He briefly slid his eyes over to her. If he seemed to get drunk, she might be Samaritan enough to put him to bed—Yeah. He’d get her.
Such a decision can be tricky.
As Ed drove them along, she sang the “Star-Spangled Banner” quite well. She did it with respect, quite seriously, and wiped her eyes when she’d finished. She said, “It gets me every time.”
He cleared his throat, but he didn’t say anything. The words of the song got to him, too.
Both being from Peoria, in the baseball crowd they did see quite a few people they knew. That wasn’t unusual for home folks. They saw family, those from work, from schools they’d attended and neighborhood friends.
While traditionally, the Hollingsworths sat along the first baseline, the Phillips kin were third base devotees. The ill-assorted pair sat along the first baseline. In their case, the identities were reversed. She was the big-eyed owl and he was a tomcat.
They called to people and they waved at others, and he found some people to sit among.
Marcia fit right in. She was younger than all of the women. And there were a good number of kids scattered throughout the bunch. Ed was especially aware of how many kids were there. They were the offspring of his friends.
Had he married when they had, he could have a pool of stretching out teenagers sitting with him. And Ed wondered what sort of father he’d have made.
That sounded as if he planned never to marry. Never to have kids. Maybe not. But the youth of the woman he was with was a clue to the lack of availability of an older woman.
Availability? Over there was Phyllis. She’d been divorced twice. There was Glenna. She’d had a couple of husbands. He could probably get someone his age who’d already experienced marriage and rejected it.
Did he want to be married? Probably not. If he’d wanted such a life, he could have had any number of women…along the time he was employed.
He looked at Marcia. She was too young for him. But he looked at the married men and the men who were no longer married but who had brought the kids along today, and he saw the interest in their eyes as they regarded Marcia.
Ed wouldn’t tell any of those tomcats this was his last date with her because he was giving up on her. He could give her that much protection.
He noted how amused she was over a man’s raucous hollering at the enemy team.
One really irritating thing about discarding a woman is that she can become so attractive in the time a man has chosen to part from her. Marcia was a real irritation. She was so funny and so charming and so involved in the game! She yelled at the opposing team. She’d make a good Cubs fan.
They had hot dogs almost right away, and Ed had a beer. Marcia took out her thermos from her shoulder bag sitting between her feet. She drank lemonade.
With all the hoopla, there was a lot of hilarity and chaffing. The game was going to the Chiefs and that made the crowd even more sassy.
And during all that time, Ed had sneakily collected beer cans from in back of them and along the way. When Marcia and a bunch of the kids went for more hot dogs, Ed had asked the guys in front of them to give him a couple of cans. Something different from what he already had.
Ed had an impressive collection just by the fifth inning. When he acted drunk, she’d be convinced.
The mid-seventh inning stretch allowed them to sing The Song and to stretch and wave at the cameras and laugh. It was as they sat down that Marcia noticed all the beer cans under Ed’s feet. She was amazed!
She was also sobered. She didn’t say anything to Ed, but she did look at him in order to judge his conduct.
By then he’d had two beers. But he didn’t mention the gathering of the other empty cans. He smiled at her. He smiled a nearly closed eyes, happy smile. And his head wobbled just a tad.
Marcia told Ed, “I drive home.”
With some careful skill, he took the car keys from his pocket and put them deliberately into her hand.
She said, “No more beer.”
He nodded and his head wasn’t entirely sure how far to go with it. He was so careful.
The game went into extra innings. The field lights came on as the dusk deepened. It was a switch leader game with both teams catching up to keep the score even.
And with the game over, the Chiefs’ fans hollering in celebration, Marcia asked two unencumbered male friends of Ed’s if they’d help her get Ed to the car.
They laughed and said, “Sure.” And then they punched Ed’s shoulder and slapped him on the back. They weren’t fooled for a minute. They’d donated a can or two to the pile under Ed’s feet.
As the two very amused friends walked on either side of a slightly unsteady Ed to get through the pack of people, Ed said, “Sssuuupper,” quite seriously. The “su” had apparently been a problem to get past.
The men jocularly offered to Marcia, “We’ll go along with you and get him into bed for you.”
Ed said, “I can do that for—myself!”
And the two slapped Ed on his shoulders and retorted, “I’ll just bet you can.”
As they finally got to the car, Marcia asked the two, “Can you get him into the front seat and buckle his belt? No. Maybe he ought to be in the back seat.”
Ed objected.
The two helpers thought that was hilarious.
Marcia told Ed slowly and distinctly, “I can’t have you wobbling around when I’m driving. And you might throw up. If you feel that way, here’s my hat.”
That hunched the two friends over with laughter. And they did, indeed, put Ed into the back seat. They buckled him into the seat belt and closed the door. Then they told Marcia, “We’ll follow you.”
Ed said, “No!” quite clearly.
Marcia told the laughing two, “Never mind. I can handle it now. Thank you.”
“You sure?” They pushed.
She went to the driver’s side, and across the top of the car, she promised them, “No problem.”
She got into the driver’s seat and buckled her belt, adjusting it to her lesser body.
Ordinarily Ed hated having his seat, mirror and seat belt fooled with by another person. That time, he didn’t object. He sat quietly until she started the car. He said, “Sssuuupper.”
Marcia replied, “Yes.”
“Mc—Don-nalds.”
“Right.”
And he went to sleep. He snored quietly, a nice bubbly snore. She drove alone in the barely invaded silence. She skipped McDonald’s and drove them to the compound.
Marcia had figured that Rudolf would be there if she couldn’t move Ed. She drove between the cement posts that held the open gates. She parked in front of Ed’s door.
He was home.
He sat feigning sleep.
She took the keys from the ignition. She exited, went around and opened the car door. Ed was very relaxed. She shook him a little and said, “Ed?”
He opened clear eyes and smiled at her.
She was surprised his eyes were so clear and that was the cause of her first suspicion. But she followed along with what was more than likely a farce. She told him, “We’re at your place. Can you get out by yourself?”
He considered it carefully, then he said a slurring, “Sure.”
Marcia stepped back.
He did a perfect imitation of a controlled drunk. He didn’t stagger; he appeared to control his steps. It was brilliant. She had to admire it. She stood back and watched. She was no longer fooled. He was doing it all deliberately.
She thought: Why would he do that? Yeah. Maybe.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Can you make it into your place?”
His regard measured the distance to his door. “I can do it.”
9
There is just something about a skilled man that is intriguing. Marcia was curious to see how Ed would conduct himself. That he was pretending to be carefully in control was now obvious. She should have been suspicious of the very number of empty beer cans. He’d overdone it.
But he had maintained a perfect facade of a practiced drunk. Instead of being sloppily out of control, he was carefully pretending to be a drunk who was in control of himself.
He was quite clever at it. That indicated that she was in danger. It was a challenge. She took his arm and led him to his door.
She asked, “Do you have the key?”
Slurring the words just a mite, he replied, “It’s in my pant pocket.”
