by Don Zelma
Chapter Twenty-one
Joe heard Lola step into the cab.
‘Hello, Joe,’ she said softly.
He froze, recalling her lounge room and the sunlight in his eyes. He remembered the loyalty he felt due to the secrets they had shared. This was more than friendship and he knew it. He waited with his hand under the false floor, yearning to read her eyes and see if she ached too. He slowly looked up, but found his eyes would go no further than to her strapless shoes. It was quiet and he stared at her feet. She seemed to sense his unease and took a step forward.
‘Hey,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you OK?’
Chr—t, he thought, she’s onto me.
‘I had a wonderful time on the weekend, Joe,’ she said. ‘Thank you for listening.’
He remained silent and Lola stayed still. ‘Sure,’ he said. He reached further under the floor. ‘It was great.’ He glanced up quickly and saw her eyes. He pulled his hand from the floor, took a cable tie from his pocket and fastened it around the wiring loom.
‘Joe,’ she said.
He slowly stopped and waited, holding the loom.
‘Hello? Joe?’
His mind had gone blank. He lowered the loom but could not lift his head. It was discourteous, but he just couldn’t help it. She cleared her throat, loudly and deliberately, and he looked to his side. He reached out to the driver’s seat and started picking at the vinyl. His heart was pumping and he could hear the beating in his ears.
He gestured at the rear of the locomotive. ‘I’m about to go down back,’ he said, pretty convincingly. ‘Can we do this later?’
There was silence. Perhaps she was expecting the intimacy of the lounge room. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong?’
He shrugged without looking up. He glanced at her and looked away. She waited. And waited a little more. But soon she had had enough and it was clear she was hurt.
‘Joe,’ she said, ‘you’re confusing me.’
‘I understand,’ he thought. ‘I’m confusing me.’
He glanced down at his hands, opened his palm and began picking at a callus. He decided he would wait her out. The towing tractor passed outside and he could hear the men working down on the floor. She waited almost ten seconds.
‘What the devil’s wrong with you?’ she said firmly.
He dropped his hand and looked at her feet. He was a fool to think she would tire.
‘Are we not friends?’ she asked.
He was in a tight spot and he looked up – God, her eyes were beautiful. ‘Lola, it’s not like that,’ he said quietly.
‘What is it like?’ she said.
He couldn’t even think of a bad lie. He reached down and picked up a discarded cable tie from the floor. ‘You have become a close friend,’ he said. ‘But we’re in the workplace now.’ It was half a lie, but it at least made sense. ‘People are watching,’ he said. ‘I don’t want them to think… you know.’
She waited, then bought it. ‘I understand,’ she said with kindness. ‘You’re right. Let’s keep it professional in the shop.’ She took another step forward. ‘Between you and me,’ she said quietly, ‘we’re still friends, yes?’
Her words made him ache and part of him wanted to reverse what he had said. He looked up. ‘Always,’ he said. He stared at her and swallowed and she smiled beautifully. Her eyes were a rich black and kind of hypnotizing.
‘I’m glad,’ Lola said. She smiled, turned and slowly walked towards the door. Joe just stared. He watched her stop on the gantry and look back. She waved her fingers goodbye then began walking away, her shoes elegantly tapping down the gantry.
He exhaled and wiped his forehead. He sat back against the wall and felt his uniform was soaking wet.
If this keeps up, he thought, I’m in a real pickle.
He gripped his jaw tightly with thumb and finger. He stood and sat in the driver’s seat and pondered for about a minute. No. It was impossible to tell her. There was no way out for now.
He heard Henry enter the cab and pull up behind him.
‘Hey, you OK?’ he said.
Joe looked over his shoulder. ‘Sure,’ he said and leaned back. ‘I’m just tired. How are things with you? Good?’
Henry winced. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Great.’
He stood, smiling, and walked past Henry, heading out onto the gantry and down onto the workshop floor. He needed to be alone, so crossed the aisle and turned in behind a locomotive. He glanced back at his cabin. Lola was gone and the pressure was off.
‘Thank Chr—t,’ he thought, ‘at least for now I can be myself again.’
At one o’clock that morning he walked into the cab and closed the door. The room was empty and he could hear the nightshift through the wall. His eyeballs ached and he rubbed them and blinked and knew he was beat. Consequently, he reached down to his lunchbox, removed his thermos container and began pouring a cup of coffee. His eyes slowly scanned the cab and everything looked a little blurry. He had not slept properly for weeks and now at work it was like fighting to stay awake at the wheel. He put the cup down and slowly opened his toolbox. His fingers found the crimpers and he crawled across the floor on all fours then reached in under the dashboard.
Moments later, he heard Lola’s steps slowly heading down the aisle. His hands paused amongst the wires and he closed his eyes, listening to her soles gently fading away. Suddenly, the noise changed directions and she began scaling his gantry. He sat up with a start and hit his head on the dashboard. Seconds later, the door creaked open and she looked in and saw him rubbing his head.
‘Hey,’ she said, softly.
‘Hey, Lola,’ he said.
‘I’m glad you could do the overtime,’ she said.
He reckoned she might be fishing and the room went quiet.
But she seemed a little sad. The ever-present light of her eyes had dimmed since her last visit. She stepped into the cab and slowly closed the door and gently rested her back against the wall. She seemed in the mood for a talk and he sat on the floor, remembering the tone of their previous conversations.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked.
‘Oh, OK,’ he said, placing his crimpers on the floor.
She pouted. ‘That’s good.’ She glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Lord, I’m a little worried about the contract,’ she said.
Joe hesitated. ‘Oh,’ he said. He rested his hands on his knees. ‘I thought all was OK.’
She waited then shrugged. ‘Part of it is,’ she said.
Joe felt it getting intimate and didn’t know what to do with his hands. He looked down, slowly picked up his crimpers, and reached in under the driver controls. He watched her under his outstretched arm. She meandered towards him, stopped at the seat post and he pulled his head out from under the dash. She was touching a gauge, staring at it. She was a thousand miles away.
‘What’s up, Lola?’ he said.
She kept playing with the gauge. ‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘Oh, come on,’ he said. ‘I know you.’
She smiled a little then fell sad again. ‘I guess it’s all the pressure,’ she said. ‘Peterson’s phoned me and made it clear how important the contract is. And I’ve got the mayor on my back.’
‘Peterson,’ Joe said, eager to revive the vibe of their first day. ‘With the leg made of bogie steel?’
She giggled and bit her lip. ‘That’s him,’ she said. ‘Captain Peterson.’
He waited. ‘You’ll be OK, Lola,’ he said. He moved back in under the dash and reached up into the wires. ‘Everyone’s got faith in ya,’ he said. He began moving things about, making noises. He could see her feet beside the seat and listened to her fingernail tapping the gauge.
‘Thank you, Joe,’ she said. ‘You’re a good friend.’ Her feet turned and began strolling towards the centre of the room. He could see all of her now. How could a woman be so physically striking, so intelligent and yet so vulnerable? What had happened inside him to be gripped by her?
She reached up to the back of
her head and began working her hair into a bun and he saw her full cheeks and petite little ears.
‘This is what she does each morning,’ he thought, ‘when no one’s around.’
‘Is everything all right?’ she said, absentmindedly, tying her hair. ‘A few hours ago you were a little weird.’
She had broached the subject. ‘Things are about the same,’ he said quietly.
She glanced down at him. She stared and did not look away and he could feel his pulse beating in his neck. Finally, she smiled a sleepy smile and turned towards the door. She reached out for the handle and glanced back.
‘I’ll see you later, my friend,’ she said. She opened the door and the noise of the shop entered the cab. She pulled the handle closed behind her and the room went quiet.
He waited a few seconds then slowly came out from under the dash. He crawled like an infant towards the gantry and slowly poked his head out the door. He saw her walking across the aisle, crawled back inside and gently closed the door.
‘J—s Chr—t,’ he said. ‘I am going to have to act on this.’ He laid down flat on his back and stared at the ceiling.
‘If only I had the balls.’
He closed his eyes and began dreaming of a beautiful future with her…
When he came to, he was wandering the factory floor. He stopped, suddenly aware, feeling like he just broke from hypnosis. Nearby, Old Jim, cutting a pipe with an oxyacetylene, lifted his goggles.
‘What the f—k are you doing, you stupid bugger?’ he said.
Joe looked back at his gantry and could not remember walking down it. He laughed, shook his head and headed back up to the cabin.
He slammed the cab door. ‘F—k!’ He punched the wall. He put his back against the door and slowly slid down, putting his head in his hands. ‘H—ly sh—t! I’m going f—king crazy.’ He could feel the pressure building inside his head starting to bead out. F—k, he thought. A tear popped out and he clenched his teeth. Another came and he couldn’t stop them. He had to get out and slowly stood and opened the door. He jumped the gantry railing, landed on the floor and headed across the shop towards the main door. Suddenly, Lola appeared from station one and his eyes widened. He felt a shot of embarrassment.
‘Joe? Where are you going?’ she said, like catching a schoolboy playing hooky.
‘I feel a little sick, Lola,’ he said. ‘I gotta go home.’
There was silence and her soles slowly tapped towards him. She stopped very close by and slowly reached out, gently touching his elbow.
‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’ she asked.
He said nothing, reached up and gripped the back of his neck. He needed to tell her something and looked down, thinking how to express it. ‘You might have a fever or something,’ she said. She felt his forehead. ‘Joe,’ she said, ‘look at me.’ But he couldn’t. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around to see who was watching. He felt her soft fingers touching him. ‘Look, you’re sweating,’ she said. He bit his lip and looked down at his boots. If you had read this story in a book, he thought, you just wouldn't believe it but this is exactly what was happening. He inhaled like a swimmer about to dive and suddenly walked away. ‘Joe!’ she admonished, but he headed out the door, into the drive, and was gone. He held his breath as he crossed the street, hurrying towards his car like racing to the bathroom. He could hear his running boots. He got into his car and closed the door and exhaled like surfacing. ‘Chr—t…’ He racked his brains for a solution but he was out of ideas and dropped his head to the wheel.