Learning Lessons

by KT Morrison

  “You guys like your football,” he said.

  “We sure do. Look right there,” she said and he followed her finger to a picture of a football team. Bunch of skinny teenagers in their jerseys and shoulder pads. Right in the middle of them all, a smiling, happy, familiar face.

  “That guy in the middle?” she said, “that right there, mister, is a very real Tyler MacKenzie.”

  Pete nodded. “He exists,” he said quietly.

  “Boy, don’t he?”

  “Well, what can you tell me about him?”

  “Those boys loved him. He was about the greatest gym teacher we had around here in a very long while. We didn’t win that year, but he built us a better team. Hey, if you see him, you tell him we only lost four this year?”

  “He hasn’t been in touch at all?”

  “No. He up and quit last year over the summer. No, two years now, I guess. We all miss him desperately around here.”

  “He wasn’t ever in any trouble?”

  “Trouble? No, sir. He was never any trouble.”

  “You know why he quit?”

  She thought a moment. “No. Never said. Or I never heard. I usually hear everything, you know. Nah, he just didn’t come back in September, said he was moving. You know, you look at him...how long was he going to stay out here in the middle of nowhere, right?”

  He sighed. “Yeah.” They both stood upright again, walked back to the reception.

  Pete zipped up his imitation leather binder. Didn’t even know why he’d driven all the way down here. Thought a moment, said, “Any known acquaintances?”

  “Friends?” she said.

  “Yeah, how about girlfriends?”

  “Well, just about all the girls wanted to know him better, see if they could catch his eye. But, no, he didn’t see anybody.”

  “So, you’re telling me he was just an all-around great guy?”

  “Pretty much. Any of us at the school would vouch for him, I swear.”

  What a weird way to spend a day. What a strange thing for him to have done. How Hitchcockian. What was he even expecting? What did he think he was going to find?

  “Thank you for your time,” he said, impossible to hide the disappointment in his voice. He left through the double doors and shuffled to the Buick.

  He’d headed out this morning so invigorated. He had a mission. He had something to do. In an odd way, he did it so he could spend the day with his Jess. This was for her. Even hundreds of miles apart he wanted to feel like he was a part of her life.

  He got in, did up his seatbelt, started it up. Someone was waving to him. He went to wave back. Realized he didn’t know anybody here. He squinted. It was the older woman from reception. Coming through the front doors, waving, walking off the curb and coming out to the car. He did the window down.

  “Hey, sir,” she said, out of breath from the cold and hustling fifty yards.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re looking for Tyler MacKenzie? I hear that?”

  “Yeah. You know him?”

  “I have a friend who did. Sort of. I think he might want to talk to you.”

  “You do?”

  “Want me to call him?”

  “Yeah, please.”

  She took her phone, punched in some numbers, held it to her soft face; she smiled to Pete warmly. Then she turned away to talk, but Pete could still hear her.

  “Hey, Mark? It’s Allison, down at the school...well, hey...not too bad...uh-huh...and you?...oh, yeah?...really...so, I have a man came by here to the desk and he was looking for Tyler MacKenzie...I know...said he’s from Save-Mart...I don’t know...collections?...didn’t say...you would?...hold on,” she put the phone to her stomach, said, “Yeah, he would talk to you.”

  Pete nodded.

  She got back on and she talked a while with him, talked about a lot more than Tyler. Then she put her phone against herself said, “Can you meet him tomorrow?”

  Shoot. “I’m only here today.”

  Allison got back with Mark and she talked a while longer. He didn’t know how she could stand out in the cold like that, he wanted to ask her if she wanted to sit in the car with him. The lower curve of her glasses had frosted up. She hung up.

  She leaned into the open window of the car, said, “If you want to meet him he’ll be at Muncie’s Tavern tomorrow from twelve til two. It’s on the 218 just as you get into Asheville. On the right-hand side. It’s just twenty minutes south of here if you go back to Queen City and take the 380 south a bit.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. Should he do it? Was it healthy or was this getting crazy?

  “He’ll be there whether you are or not, so don’t fret it. He’s away today, then he works the overnight shift tonight. Do you have a card? I’ll give him your number...”

  “No, that’s all right.”

  Allison looked around a bit, said kind of quietly, “He looked into Tyler too.”

  “Can you give me his number?”

  “Just call the Asheville Police Department, ask for Lt. Mark Draper.”

  Seventy-three and sunny beat anything Ohio could muster in a February.

  They were on the south side of St. Pete’s Beach, on Gulf Boulevard, a motel right on the water. The Bel-Aire, a flat-roof Modern bungalow, probably been serving vacationers for eighty years. She liked the slanted windows at the tiny check-in, the way everything was painted white except for a pale yellow racing stripe that ran around the whole main entrance. It felt like it was from another time; if no one had their smartphones out you could imagine this was the fifties. And at $163 a night, plus one free night, it was in the budget.

  So far today they’d done nothing. She had wanted to take advantage of her time away. This was taking advantage though, wasn’t it? This was making the best of it. Doing nothing is exactly what she came here to do. So far today she had fucked Tyler, had a big brunch, laid on the beach, read part of a book and napped. This really was taking advantage of her time away.

  Now she was sitting on a lounger on the patio, had turned it slightly away from the pool so she could look out past her hot pink painted toenails at the beach and the gulf beyond. She still felt full from their brunch, like her stomach even stuck out a little. They’d walked down the beach when they got up until they found a restaurant that looked interesting. It was great, just the kind of place she wanted. Raised up from the sand on sun-bleached decking, a grass-roofed hut that served them eggs and bacon and waffles out on the patio in the sunshine, protected a bit under some low palms. She was so hungry after her morning ‘exercise’. Now she was full. She ran her hands over her rounded bare tummy. She’d got a little sun, she could see her white skin starting to redden a bit. She moved the straps of her bikini top to reduce the chance of a tan line there. Her skin took the sun well and she hoped she’d come back with some nice colour even if they were only here for five days and it was February.

  Tyler was coming back to her, turning heads as he went. He’d gone back to the room to bring them some drinks. They weren’t licensed here, didn’t have any poolside service at all but you could bring out things from your room. Tyler went back to get some orange juice, splash some vodka in it for them. Here he was, walking back across the patio. He wasn’t wearing speedos, but he kind of might have well been. He had tight swim shorts on that went down his thighs a bit, but you could see that he had a lot between his legs. And his body had everyone watching, even the husbands. He screamed sex; out loud at the top of his lungs. She wanted everyone’s eyes to follow him, see him end up on the white vinyl lounger pressed right up next to hers. She wanted them all to know that was hers. That veritable tattooed-sex-God had chosen her as his mate. Deal with it, ladies. I ain’t half bad either, you ask me.

  A smile broke her face, a warm and very happy feeling washed over her as he sat down next to her. There was a young mom about her own age watching. Behind sunglasses but her head had tracked him right to where he was now. She was all right looking, pale and brunette, still recov
ering from a baby-body. Her doughy husband looked over too. She dared a smile to them. You should see how good we look when we fuck. Well, not my dirty bits, that looks a little weird. But our bodies? God, his body.

  “Mm, kiss me, Tyler,” she said, for show and for warmth.

  Tyler closed his eyes, leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, handed her a plastic hotel cup filled with OJ.

  She took a sip. “Wow, that’s strong,” she said. He smiled under his black sunglasses.

  Tyler put his drink on the ground, turned his back to her, said, “Babe, can you do my back?”

  With pleasure. She got the suntan lotion and squirted some liberally into her hand, then swiped it across his hard shoulders and neck.

  “What do you want to do tonight?” he said, his head turned to the side.

  She worked the lotion over his skin, looked at her own hand moving across him. “Go out for dinner?”

  “Sounds good. You wanna go dancing?”

  “Mm. Maybe tomorrow. I’m still in the mood to just chill out. We’ll eat late. Want to walk on the beach or something. Watch the sunset?”

  “Anything you want, Jess,” he said, turned away now watching the water. The wind tugged at his thick hair.

  She watched his handsome profile, his strong jaw, his defined cheekbones, that strong brow. “Hey, let’s go to a club tomorrow night, okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said into the breeze. “Thank, babe,” he said, about the lotion. He lay back down next to her. She squirted some more oil into her hand, put a little dollop on his chest, snapped the lid closed. She ran her palms together, looking at his beautiful body. He was so lean. He’d done that for her. Just to light her eyes up. Just to turn her on, make her feel crazier when they made love. It was working. She put her hands on him, rubbed the lotion on his front. Her soft girl hands going all over his rock hard muscles. She was rubbing his front. He could rub his own front, but she wanted to do this. She knew she was being watched. Yeah, this was blatantly sexual. But if a woman rubbed lotion on her husband most people wouldn’t think twice about it. She’d seen it already today. Wife even rubbed her husband’s front. Husband didn’t look like this though. Tyler was all sex. Everything about him would make you think about it. This right now, what she was doing, was practically a sexual act in public. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought she might have got herself a bit wet from it. Her hands went lower, over his chiselled mid-section. He looked like what you would see in a movie. Her hands went self-consciously low, below his belly button. The tips of her fingers swept just a hair under his waistband.

  “Okay,” she said, stopped herself. She rubbed her hands over her knees, got rid of the excess lotion, lay back on her lounger. The two of them now elbow to elbow looking out over the Gulf. She let her eyes close and felt the heat on her. It felt amazing. Exactly what she needed. Maybe she was one of those people who could suffer from a Vitamin D deficiency. Maybe she had Seasonal Affective Disorder. She napped.

  When she awoke her hand subconsciously went for her phone. She picked it up, knew what she would see.

  Pete: Jess, honey, I’m so sorry for what I said...

  Now there was more. Four brief messages. She scrolled quickly past, didn’t want to read them. She saw the keywords anyway as they flicked by. Sorry. Love. Hurt. Crazy. She threw the phone back down to a towel on the lounger, down at her hip. Where she couldn’t reach it easily.

  His words had stung. Poisonous cunt. He’d never had a harsh word for her once in all the time they’d lived together. Men before him had. Bad boyfriends, her failed engagement. Men could be awful. No one was as awful as her though, were they?

  Pete wanted the hurt. He thrived on the suffering she thought. What piece of her got off on it though? What piece of her wanted to punish him, and why? How could she have done those things?

  She’d deserved his scorn. Didn’t she? She would hate to itemize the hurt she’d delivered to him. She hated him right now; the sting of his words leaving a symbolic red hand on her cheek. But she didn’t hate him. She’d never hated him.

  Did she resent something? She didn’t resent getting pregnant. Maybe Tyler's presence made her realize she wasn’t young anymore. That there was fun that she didn’t have. But that wasn't Pete’s fault.

  Pete wanted her to have fun. He’d always wanted that. She looked over at Tyler sitting next to her. The sun glistened on his skin, lighting up the hard edges of the muscles he’d worked so hard to reveal to her. Pete had practically given Tyler to her.

  It was amazing. Those harsh moments that had transpired a thousand miles from here in the dark rooms of the small home they shared seemed so demented now. So cold and distant. She couldn’t believe they’d ever happened. The world was such a big beautiful place. Or it could be at least. The sky above her was infinite, deep and blue. The sun’s heat made her feel happy and nurtured. Birds soared above her, a gentle breeze caressed her.

  There was a man running on the beach, stumbling along in a heavy, non-athletic gait. A friendly, big-boned German man they’d seen at breakfast. He was running clumsily through the sand in his Birkenstocks with a kite in his grip, trying to get enough speed to launch it. His little boy walked in the other direction, running out line. The mother sat in the sand and watched them. You didn’t need to run like that. Pete could have told them how to do it. You just needed a little tension on the line and the wind would do the work for you. She brushed a tear from her cheek.

  Tyler heard her sniff and he turned. “You okay, Jess?”

  “Yes. Just miss my boys,” she said.

  “Won’t be long, boo-boo,” he said.

  She smiled weakly. “I know. Doesn't mean I don't miss them...”

  “We’ll be back in just a few days. Practically not much longer than when Pete takes them.” He was looking out over the Gulf behind his shades. “Cheer up, babe.”

  She’d like him to just let her miss them. He meant well. But she enjoyed feeling how terrible it was for them to be so far from her. She wanted to think about them even if it hurts.

  38

  Worthy

  Saturday, February 11th

  This was one strange day.

  Pete stood out front of Muncie’s Tavern. It looked like a whiskey-faded dump; sitting on the outskirts of town where serious drinkers would spend their time. Two cars in the parking lot, a dinged up Pontiac and a Suburban, plus his Buick now. Parking was a small, cracked pavement patch between an auto wrecker and a vacant office space where a private realtor once had been. A metal sign out front had faded where his name had been stuck on with adhesive vinyl then peeled off, probably when he went bankrupt.

  He pushed the glass door open by its slanted aluminum handle, felt like he was stepping into a crime novel. He drove three hours again this morning just to come here—to find what?

  The place looked empty. One lone drinker at the bar. It was just after lunch time.

  He approached the guy hunched over the bar with his elbows on the brass rail. He was a worn out looking sort of guy with bags under his eyes. About Pete’s age but he looked like he’d seen harder times. Maybe he was that realtor from next door.

  “Excuse me...you Mark Draper?”

  Sandy haired guy looked over his shoulder at him with watery, yellowed eyeballs.

  “What?” he said with Pall Mall breath.

  “Over here,” deep voice, came from behind him.

  A big fella sitting in a burgundy, worn-leather booth. He was maybe fifty, shaved head, handlebar moustache with the tips curled up. He had an authoritative face. He looked like a cop. He lifted his big hand up, shook Pete’s hand with his elbow still on the table. An easy but powerful handshake.

  “Hey, I’m Pete Mapplethorpe.”

  “Good to meet you, Pete. Mark,” he said. “Have a seat,” he gestured across the booth from him.

  “Uh...” Pete still stood, looking out through the dusty window of the tavern. “Listen, I don’t want to be a pain but...I got...I brought my ki
ds with me.”

  Mark hefted his big torso around to look out the front. He laughed. Petey in the front seat of the Buick was telling Andy a story that required very big, explosive hand gestures.

  “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “Well, they saw a sign coming into town for a Chuck E. Cheese...”

  Mark was a good sport about the venue switch.

  There was a Chuck E. Cheese’s right next to a Wal-Mart on the main drag, the 520, that ran along the Ohio River. They were in there now, Pete said he’d get lunch and he ordered two pizzas and some Cokes. Apologetic to Mark since this Chuck E. Cheese’s didn’t serve booze. He told Petey to take Andy, go have some fun, but they wanted to hang around. They were curious about this big guy with the super-villain moustache their dad wanted to talk to.

  “Guys, come on, beat it. Go have a good time...look at all the fun stuff,” he held his hand out towards the Play Zone. There were about a dozen kids on driving video games with real steering wheels, playing skee ball, shooting hoops for prizes...

  “Go on, boys, it’s like a little casino for kids,” Mark said.

  Andy said, “Are you really a policeman?”

  Mark took his wallet out of his back jean’s pocket, flipped it open so they could see his badge. “What do you think of that?”

  Andy said, “Woah,” looked up to Petey.

  Mark flipped it closed, said, “Petey, go take your brother. That’s an order. Less you boys want to spend the night in lockup.”

  Their faces were blank looking at him, blinking. Petey smiled.

  “Hold Andy’s hand, Petey,” Pete said.

  “I will.”

  Mark folded his arms up on the table in front of him, regarded Pete. Kids ran all around the table, the place was a zoo.

  “So, Pete, you’re with Save-Mart.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Save-Mart has an External do its investigations.”