Fiddleback 2

by Jeff Vrolyks

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was Saturday morning, the one week anniversary of Timothy’s acquaintance with Mae at Millie’s Diner. He had mixed feelings about Eddie not joining him at Millie’s today. It would be great to have him as the catalyst of conversation between he and Mae. Without batting an eye Eddie would invite her to join them at their table, instead of letting the hostess decide their seating fate. The same seating arrangement as last week was unlikely, which meant if Timothy wanted to eat breakfast with Mae he’d have to invite her to share a booth. He didn’t think he had it in him. Eddie had wanted to come along this morning but Phyllis had asked him for a favor. She and Phillip found a cheap Corolla with low miles in an ad, and were heading to Marysville to purchase it. Phillip hadn’t been behind a wheel since being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s two years ago, which left Eddie to drive the LeSabre back. From this day forward the LeSabre was a privilege for Eddie to be used at his disposal.

  Timothy parked in front of Millie’s and checked his watch. Mae’s bus should pull up any minute. He was sweating and wondered how the heck he could be more nervous now than every time before. Perhaps because now he’d feel obliged to greet her, ask how her week was, carry on a conversation with ample chances to make a fool of himself. He’d stutter and she’d think he’s retarded.

  Just then he had an idea how to get Mae to be seated near him, sparing him the terror of her possibly rejecting his booth invite. The beauty of the idea was in its simplicity: he’s ask Susan to keep the booth next to his open for her. It would mean confessing to Susan that he had a crush on the girl, but that’s a small price to pay for the reward. He’d need to get inside before Mae. He turned the engine off and got out of the car, went inside Mille’s.

  Susan was at the podium with her proprietary grin, already reaching her hand down to the menus.

  “I was hoping you could do me a favor,” Timothy said to Susan. “You know the girl who also comes in here every time I’m here?”

  Susan became pensive as she reflected.

  “You know, really pretty, my age, blue eyes and brown hair. Her name’s Mae.”

  Remembrance washed over her face. “Of course, dear. Is she your friend?”

  “Sort of. We just met last week.” He lowered his voice. “Between you and me, I have a thing for her. Is there any way you could seat her in the booth next to mine?”

  She smiled crookedly, nodded, took a menu. Timothy followed to a table at the far end of the row; there were two empty tables between this one and the nearest occupied table. Timothy smiled appreciatively at her as he took a seat, slid down the vinyl bench.

  “Would you like something to drink, sweetheart?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  Mae entered the restaurant. She was talking on her phone. Susan greeted Mae, took up a menu and led her in Timothy’s direction.

  Susan stopped at Timothy’s table, not the table he and Susan had agreed upon. He gave Susan a stern look. Mae was still on the phone, mouthed the words good morning to Timothy. Timothy said good morning. She said something quietly into the phone, nodded, and ended the call. She took a seat at his table without event.

  Well how about that! Timothy thought. She took the seat without thought, as if she belonged there with Timothy.

  “Coffee for you both?” Susan asked.

  Both said yes. She departed.

  “How are you d-doing today, Mae?” He asked her.

  “Crazy day,” Mae replied distractedly and began tapping out a text message.

  “You look n-nice. I like your dress. The blue really b-brings out the blue in your eyes.”

  She took pause in her text message to address Timothy’s sweet words, smiled at him. “Why thank you. That was a sweet thing to say.”

  Timothy felt that he was blushing. “How was your w-week?”

  She had already returned to her cellphone and didn’t catch his question. He decided to let it go. Two coffees were dropped off at the table; Timothy spooned sugar in his. Mae sent her text, set her phone on the table and returned her interest in Timothy. She looked as if she had something to say, something important, but when the phone chimed she picked it back up and tended to it.

  Martha stopped by the table for their breakfast orders. Mae held up a finger gesturing for a minute, and began tapping out a text message. Timothy ordered a ham and cheese egg-white omelet with home fries. The corners of Mae’s mouth upturned without straying from the task at hand, which was evidently a lengthy text message.

  “Make it two,” Mae said without making eye contact with Martha.

  Martha scrawled the orders and left.

  “Crazy day indeed,” Timothy said. “You look busy.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” She pressed send and set her phone back down. Timothy envisioned her picking it right back up within the next few seconds.

  “How long have you been spending your Saturday mornings eating breakfast here?” Timothy asked her.

  “A few months. There’s a diner closer to home but I like this one better. Great service and food. How about yourself? I’ve seen you here weekly for some time too.”

  “Six weeks.” Six wonderful weeks.

  They were silent for a moment.

  “You almost had the pleasure of meeting my boyfriend,” Mae said.

  “Your boyfriend?” Timothy repeated, and felt his heart breaking.

  She nodded, got to putting sugar in her cup. “He wanted to come, but changed his mind.”

  “How long have you two been going out?” He asked Mae.

  “A few months or so.”

  “Do you love him?”

  She nodded, but there was hesitation there. “Where’s the friend who was with you last week?”

  “Edgar? He couldn’t make it.”

  Mae’s eyes widened, jaw dropped. “Edgar,” she breathed.

  “He prefers Eddie, actually. What about him?”

  She shook her head, took the cellphone from her purse and began a text message, but didn’t get very far because her phone began ringing.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back,” Mae said and excused herself, walked right out of the diner.

  What the heck is going on here? Timothy wondered. Why did she give me that look when I said Eddie?

  He sat there in confused silence for three minutes before his cute breakfast date returned in her blue summer-dress with pink Hawaiian flowers. Her eyes were different now. They were sharp and penetrating, conveyed her newfound interest in Timothy. She tucked the back of her dress in and sat across from Timothy.

  “So what do you like to do for fun?” Timothy asked Mae.

  “Nothing, really. Draw, I guess. I like reading. How long have you known Edgar?”

  “I met him the day you did. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” It wasn’t an honest answer, Timothy judged. “I hope you don’t mind, but my boyfriend is going to be joining us after all.”

  “Okay, great,” Timothy said with feigned enthusiasm.

  “I should warn you in advance,” Mae said, “Trent can be a little… abrasive. He might come off as a jerk, but he can be sweet.”

  Timothy nodded. “Why does he want to join us?”

  “I’d rather let Trent answer that.”

  Timothy was sweating. He had presentiments of this Trent guy being a real prick, and probably accusing him of trying to steal away his girlfriend. And an abrasive jerk, not the kind of guy Timothy was good at dealing with.

  “Is s-something the m-matter?”

  She gave a half-wince, intimating to Timothy that something was the matter and she felt bad about being responsible for it. That’s the impression Timothy got, at least.

  “Tell me,” Timothy said. “W-what’s going on?”

  “I got a phone call just before I got here.”

  Timothy knew she did; she was talking to him or her as she entered the diner.

  “I don’t want to upset you, but someone was informing me of a man I should be
concerned over, and I think it’s your friend Edgar.”

  “Eddie? Concerned over? Nonsense. He’s a g-great guy.”

  “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “Nah, you d-didn’t. Who told you that?”

  “She didn’t say her name.”

  “She?”

  Mae nodded.

  “What else did she s-say about Eddie?”

  “I’d rather wait till Trent is here.”

  “That’s w-why Trent is c-coming here? To t-talk about Eddie?”

  “I’m sorry, Timothy.” And she was sorry. Those pitiful blue eyes with amber irises were the embodiment of sorry just then.

  “He’s a great g-guy, Eddie is.”

  “Why do you think this girl would tell me differently?”

  “No clue.”

  They sat in silence for a minute. One silent minute became two and three; it was growing awkward and tense at the table. Mae gave frequent apologetic glances at Timothy before looking down at the table. Timothy was suffering conflicting emotions. He couldn’t stand that his friend was being implicated in this unfathomable mess, but felt bad for Mae for having to feel guilty about what she had said. And more things would be said about his friend Eddie before this breakfast was said and done, her boyfriend Trent would see to that.

  His nerves were on edge and growing worse. He excused himself from the table and went to the restroom, entered the solitary stall and got down on his knees. He knew he’d puke, even if it wasn’t quite ready yet. It was best to force it now so he wouldn’t be returning shortly. He lifted the lid and gagged himself, vomited in the toilet.

  He returned to the table a couple minutes later, apologized to Mae.

  A silver Audi tore into the parking lot, tires screeching to a stop. If Timothy was heartbroken before, he was devastated now. The guy getting out of the Audi was very good looking, even more so than Eddie. Sandy blond hair, toned and tan body, definitely a jock of sorts, and had to be worth a lot of money to drive a new convertible Audi. Mae waved at him through the window. He saw the gesture but didn’t return it. He hustled to the restaurant and entered.

  Mae scooted down to make room for Trent. He had only just taken a seat when Martha came by to take his drink order. Coffee, black. She left.

  Trent cordially introduced himself to Timothy and reached across the table to shake hands.

  “I’m T-Timothy. N-nice to m-meet you.”

  Trent looked sidelong at Mae. His eyes might have said, “Friends with a fucking retard, are we?”

  “Luckily I was in town,” Trent said. Timothy didn’t think that was so lucky. “Mae says you’re friends with a guy named Edgar,” Trent said in an appreciative tone. By it, Timothy surmised that Trent expected to learn a great many things here during breakfast, and that was unsettling as hell.

  “Yes. Edgar V-Verboom, but he g-goes by Eddie. Like I told Mae, I only m-met him the other day.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Not much.”

  “When he met Mae here last week, did he act strangely? Did it seem to you that he knew who Mae was?”

  “Actually,” Mae said, gathering fragments of memory and piecing them together, “he did say I look familiar, like he’d seen me before. He even guessed my name. Almost guessed my last name, too.”

  Trent’s eyes sharpened on her. “Uh huh. So he knew you.”

  “I-I don’t k-know about that,” Timothy said, feeling he needed to come to the defense of his friend. Without knowing it, he had a pretty good idea Trent wasn’t about to seek Eddie’s friendship, but perhaps an enmity. “He only g-guessed her name. He told me later that he d-didn’t know her.”

  “Did you give Timothy or Eddie your phone number?” Trent asked Mae. Mae shook her head. “I wonder how he got your number…” He faced Timothy. “And I wonder how he knows so much about us, like where Mae lives, and where she keeps her motherfucking diary.”

  “Uh…” Timothy swallowed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I th-think there’s been some kind of mistake. W-wrong Eddie, I think.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” Trent said sarcastically. “Because there are so many Edgar’s around, huh?”

  How could you do this to me? Timothy asked Mae with his eyes.

  Mae mouthed the words I’m sorry to him with a sympathetic brow.

  To Mae Trent said, “So tell me what the girl said on the phone about Edgar.”

  “I already told you everything. She said Edgar’s a bad man, likes to start trouble. She said he messes around with his cellphone, texting and calling people, pranking them. The way she described him, and from what he knows about us, I think you’re right about him reading my diary.”

  “Sss-stop saying that!” Timothy blustered. “That isn’t t-true! Eddie would never—”

  “Let her talk,” Trent said calmly. Timothy sensed that if he was told again it wouldn’t be so politely.

  “That’s about all she had to say,” Mae said.

  “And she didn’t say who she was?” Trent asked.

  “No.”

  “How’d she get your number? And how does she know all this about our friend Edgar?’

  “I asked her that and she hung up.”

  “Google her name and number, let’s find out more about her.”

  “Can’t. The number’s blocked, and I don’t know her name.”

  “Fucking Private Callers and Blocked Calls, what the fuck? Is everyone too chickenshit to identify themselves nowadays? Fucking A.” Trent looked at Timothy and said, “Who is this guy? Where’s Edgar from?”

  “Nebraska. He’s a f-farmer. He’s a r-really nice guy, Trent. Honestly.”

  Mae gave Timothy puppy-dog eyes from across the table. Her cheeks were rosy. By her look Timothy had a pretty rotten idea that she wasn’t done pissing on his parade. And he was right.

  “There was one more thing, actually,” Mae said to Trent, but was looking at the frightened boy across the table. “I’m so sorry, Timothy.”

  “Don’t apologize to him!” Trent said waspishly. “This is none of his damned business. Tell me what she said.”

  “She told me where Edgar lives. He lives—”

  “Don’t tell him that!” Timothy pleaded. Denizens at nearby tables craned their heads around to see who was violating the cozy atmosphere with bad mojo.

  Trent leaned a little across the table, fixed a no-fucking-nonsense glare at Timothy and said, “If I have to ask you to mind your own damned business one more time, you and me are going to have some business to settle outside.”

  Timothy leaned back in his seat. He felt nauseated again.

  “Please don’t talk to him like that,” Mae said. “He got put in the middle of this, it’s not his fault.”

  “Where does this prick Edgar live, honey,” Trent said, and gave Timothy a murderous glowering, daring him to butt in one more time.

  “He lives at the Stoddard farm,” Mae said. “In the barn.”

  Timothy slid off the bench to a stand, took his wallet from his back pocket, extracted a twenty and left it on the table with his company looking confusedly at him.

  “Don’t go,” Mae said.

  He said nothing, avoided Susan’s eyes as he passed her at the podium, and out the door he went. In his car he got on the phone, went through Contacts and found Eddie Verboom. Just before making the call he saw Trent coming out of Millie’s, striding toward him quickly, not one thing pleasant about his expression. Timothy put the phone down and started the engine, tore off, putting Trent in his rear-view mirror. Trent stood there looking mightily pissed off. He mimed a phone at his ear, pointed at it, pointed at Timothy, then ran a finger across his throat, a gesture of execution. Call Eddie to warn him and you die.

  Timothy drove off, destination home.