The spaces lined with Mercedes and Volvo’s told a lot about the clientele and the establishment. Desiree let out a sigh and hoped Bradford was buying. She watched a blonde with a short chic haircut get out of her sports car. The woman looked exquisite in a red wool coat and matching scarf. Desiree looked down at her outdated dress then waited for the blond to enter before she stepped out of her old mini-van. “I don’t fit in here,” she thought, as she studied her reflection in the mirror of her compact. She applied fresh lipstick and tried to reassure herself.
Bradford Stiltz was already seated at the table. A candle flickered in the dim lighting, casting different angles across his face. Desiree made her way across the bar towards the table. On spying her, he quickly rose from his seat and pulled out her chair. She lowered herself, crossed her legs and let out a sigh of relief to see Bradford dressed so casually. He wore khaki pants, a blue button-down oxford, and leather slip-on loafers with no socks. She found this to be peculiar in winter, but also a tad bit sexy. His rough yet handsome features seemed to stir up desire in her she’d lost somewhere.
Bradford cast a glance over Desiree appreciably, “You look very nice tonight.”
“Thanks, Bradford so do you,” Desiree blushed in spite of herself. She was not used to seeing him outside the office atmosphere.
The waiter approached the table and greeted Desiree. “Can I bring you a drink, perhaps a glass of wine?”
“Iced tea, please.”
“Make that two iced teas,” Bradford told the waiter, who nodded as Desiree smiled with approval.
Desiree felt at ease with Bradford. He was charming and talkative, showing a genuine interest in her personal life. She had rarely seen this side of him at the office due to the hectic schedule he kept, and it was a nice change of pace. Although there had been times when he stopped by her office and chitchatted, Desiree had too much on her mind to pick up any vibes. The server returned with the iced teas. They were raspberry flavored and garnished with fresh peaches. “We'll have an order of calamari and the baked Brie for starters, how’s that sound?” he looked towards Desiree for agreement.
“Sounds great.” She said.
“So, are you sure this is something you’re interested in? I mean it’s not too soon?” Bradford raised his eyebrow and looked at Desiree contently. “I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated if it’s going to bring back memories you can’t handle right now.”
Desiree shifted legs, uncrossing with the left. Her hand rubbed the shiny pearl strand. . . “No, it’s alright,” she fumbled for words and before she could finish her train of thought Bradford began again.
“I can’t even imagine the pain you and your family have been through.” He looked at Desiree candidly, “You’re one of the bravest women I know, to have been through so much and yet able to keep your head on straight, raising those children alone, and school, your work at the firm . . . it`s so unreal how you’ve managed.” He continued to talk about her until she was blushing. After what seemed like only minutes, the waiter delivered the appetizers, refilled their teas and was gone in a wink.
Desiree shifted uncomfortably and took a bite of her calamari. She wasn’t used to compliments. Strong woman, brave – wow, he’s something. She thought. He’s smart, sensitive, and just plain sexy. She eyed the gorgeous blonde stranger she’d seen in the parking lot and remembered why she was there. It’s just a business dinner, she kept telling herself, not a date. Plus, there was the stupid hat atop her head. She swallowed the bite of apple slice dipped in the warm brie and felt her cheeks flush as his olive green eyes met hers.
“No, I think it`s a great opportunity. If I can just stop one person from getting behind the wheel intoxicated or make the laws tougher on those who have, then I’ve done something.”
Suddenly, Desiree wanted to be out of the spotlight. “So tell me, Bradford do you have any children?” She had already noticed the empty ring finger on his left hand. “Stop it!” she said to herself. “What are you doing?”
“As a matter of fact I don’t, but I’d like to one day.” There was a long pause. “Well, actually Desiree, that’s not true. I, well in my first year of grad school, my fiancée, Patti, became pregnant. She was working on her masters, and well, we just decided not to keep it. You see, her parents were strict Catholics and she gave it up for adoption, that being the lesser of the two evils. So she had a son.” Bradford looked down at his plate uncomfortably. He cleared his throat and let out a sigh. “I mean, we had a son.” He looked up at me again with sadness. “I guess he’d be just about grown by now. I think about him often. After he was born, I couldn’t even look at a baby without wondering if it were mine. Patti never was the same. Although it was her decision, somehow I think she still blamed me. Maybe it was easier for her to deal with it. I offered to go ahead and move up our wedding date, but she said she wanted to finish school, teach and not be tied down with a baby, ‘for Christ sakes I’m only twenty-three she’d said.’ By the time I thought I’d convinced her to keep the baby, she changed her mind and moved in with her aunt. I think her aunt was a big influence as well.”
“I’m so sorry,” Desiree spoke from her heart, pain and loss were something she knew first hand. Wanting to change the subject again, she inquired on the conferences, where they’d be held, and if her schedule would allow. After briefly going over the details, Desiree remembered her grandmother. She talked and talked, the time escaping her in such great conversation with Bradford until she glanced at her watch. “I really must get going.” She said, “It’s getting late and I need to relieve the babysitter. It’s my grandmother. She’s getting up in age but still able to chase them around. She just loves the children. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Listen, keep me posted about the conference.” Desiree stood up and placed her handbag over her left arm and held her right hand forward to shake hands. “It’s been a real pleasure, Bradford. Thank you for dinner.”
With that, Bradford took both her hands in his. With the softest brush of his lips, he kissed one and then the other. “No, no, the pleasure was all mine,” he said.
Secrets
Chapter 8
Josh rode his dirt bike up the steep hill and followed the trail he’d worn until he came upon the area where Walter stayed. He leaped from his bike letting it crash abruptly to the ground. He then pulled the cotton hood of his sweatshirt down and scratched the top of his head, while he surveyed the area like a sniper. He reached down, lifted a water jug, inspected it, and then placed it back on the ground. He walked a few more feet to the wool blanket folded neatly by a tree. “Evidence,” he thought. “Now she’ll believe me.” An old rusty can sat next to the jug. Josh quickly inspected its contents, “Hum? Seeds, bird seeds?” Josh wasn’t sure. He sat the can down and picked up a flannel shirt, underneath lay a bag of butterscotch candy. Josh pulled one out, he knew he wasn’t supposed to take things especially from strangers, but he thought only one wouldn’t hurt. With his mother away for the evening with Bradford, he planned on hiding out until Walter returned. He was going to catch the old geezer if it was the last thing he did and then his mother would believe him. He knew he lied a lot, but he told the truth as well. His mother was always referring to him as “the boy who cried wolf.” Well, he was going to put an end to that; he’d show her. Josh picked up his bike and slowly walked it behind two tall oaks, raised the kickstand, then bent down and lowered his rump onto the cold ground. He unwrapped the piece of butterscotch, popped it into his mouth. “Now, then, I’ll just wait,” he said to himself.
Walter was tired from the day’s activities. He wished it was spring and he could finally make his way back home. He missed his children, and especially his grandchildren. It was time; Walter was lonely and he longed for Ruthie so much. Sometimes he wished he were already dead, lying under the earth next to her.
Walter had been working at the soup kitchen across town. It was volunteer work, of course, but Walter didn’t mind. He enjoyed preparing sandwiches and soup
for the hungry, plus he got a hot meal and a fresh cup of coffee to boot. The soup kitchen gave him something to do until nightfall. He crossed Brier Street, then Oak Wood Drive, making his way to the path just behind Wild Wood Circle. He wished he had some whiskey to cut the wind that was sharply nagging at his bones.
Walter had tried to sleep at the shelter on several occasions when the weather was unbearable. It was always overcrowded, with small children crying and the musty smells of body odor and urine. Walter liked the woods; they were quiet and peaceful. He passed a large stone, stepped over a fallen branch, and caught sight of what he thought was a possum out of the corner of his eye. He finally arrived at the spot where he’d been staying. He set his birdcage down and spread the blanket over a section of earth that was flat. Then taking off his shoes and wadding a shirt up under his head, he stared up at the sky that was just starting to darken and closed his eyes.
Josh peeked through the tree limbs, his heart drumming in his ears. He could see the old man lying on the blanket. Somewhere in the distance a sycamore tree was unpeeling its skin and Josh moved closer. The snapping of a tree branch caused Walter to raise his head a bit, just as Josh jumped from his hiding spot. “I caught you,” he said.
Walter jolted at the unexpected voice and the sight of a small youngster with unruly hair. He sat up and eyed the child who had a familiarity Walter couldn’t pinpoint right off. This caused a small fraction of annoyance in Walter, like the name of a movie you can’t recall or a distant acquaintance you can’t place. Then he remembered the photograph framed in silver, sitting atop the mantle next to his younger sister’s. He had also witnessed his temper tantrums in the mornings from the tree lined path. He had seen his mother try to coax him into his seatbelt more than once. He was a Levite, all right.
“What are you doing here?” Walter asked.
“Spying on you,” Josh sang, as he raised his eyebrows in Colombo fashion. “I caught you and I’m telling my mother!”
“Telling your mom what? Is it a crime to go camping?”
Josh looked confused. He had been camping before with his father but they had taken a large tent, sleeping bags, and a stove to cook on. “You’re camping?” Josh asked quizzically.
“Well, sure son, I like the woods. Plus, I brought my pet bird, Jackie.”
Josh was intrigued, he wanted a pet, but his mother refused. She said they’d have to wait till she finished up her schooling. “What kind of bird is she?” asked Josh. “Can I pet her?”
“Well, I’ll tell you but it is a secret. I bet you can’t even keep a secret.”
“I can too,” screamed Josh.
The old man turned his back towards the boy, bent down, and released the catch on the cage door.
“Jackie is a homing pigeon with beautiful blue, gray feathers. See those seeds over there? You can feed her right out of your very own hands if you don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me?”
Josh had to think for a minute; he had never fed a bird before. Did he want to tell his mother and be right for once or meet Jackie? “I won’t,” Josh said, wondering if he could actually keep a secret. He knelt down by Walter and put the pieces of corn in his small hand. “It tickles,” he said as the bird’s head bobbed up and down. “When are you going to be done camping?” asked Josh.
“Soon,” said Walter. “Real soon.”
“Where do you live?” asked the boy.
Walter hung his head and reached deep into his pants pocket, pulled out a knife and unfolded the small blade. He then chose a branch that was twisted like a snake and began to whittle. The wood shavings fell in a pile at Walters’s feet. Josh watched as the old man began to carve snake eyes with the pointy tip of his pocket knife. He held it out for the boy to inspect. Josh ran his hand over the creamy smooth wood.
“That’s nice,” he said. “Will you be here tomorrow? Or are you going home?”
“Well, Josh, it’s not that simple. I’m not sure I can go home right now. I’m afraid I’ve done something I terribly, terribly regret. I’ve made my children very angry. Haven’t you ever done something that made your parents angry?”
Josh looked sad. He knew he did lots of things wrong. “But you’re the father,” Josh said, “you can’t get into trouble. The children always get into trouble, not the parents.”
“Not in my case, that’s why I had to leave.”
“Oh, I see,” Josh’s forehead crinkled up like a paper bag. “My father had to leave too.”
“Where did your father go?” Walter had wanted to know for some time now what exactly had happened to him.
“He’s in his coffee, in heaven, some bad man hit him with his car.”
“Oh,” said Walter, “I bet you miss him very much.” Walter laid the branch down, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a picture of Ruthie. “This is Ruthie,” he showed the boy, “and she is up in heaven with your father.”
“Oh,” said Josh. “Maybe they’re friends?”
“Maybe,” thought Walter.
His grandmother’s loud voice echoed through the trees. “Joshua Levite, you get home right now!”
Josh jumped to his feet and scrambled for his bicycle. Walter then put his right hand out, “It was very nice meeting you Josh, and I’m Walter, Walter Kendal.”
Josh clasped the old man’s hand, uncertain at first. Then he looked deep into his eyes and felt safe, a feeling he hadn’t felt since the death of his father. Josh hopped upon his bicycle. “See ya, Walter. I’ve gotta go.”
“Bye Josh, remember our secret.”
“I will!” The boy smiled as he pedaled off towards home, thinking about how neat secrets were.
That night, Desiree, stood in front of her full-length mirror. She twirled around naked inspecting her calves, thighs, buttocks, and waist. She allowed her eyes to travel upward to her breasts, which she now held in her hands. She had forgotten that she was still a woman with desires and emotions and what it felt like to be attracted to a man. Could someone like Bradford find me appealing, she wondered? Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she then untied the striped scarf from her head. Running her fingers through her thinning hair, she decided to cut it all off in a short spiky style she had seen in a magazine. Feeling sexier than usual, she slipped on a silky black chemise instead of the flannel PJ’s she normally wore. She crawled into bed, and then drifted off to sleep, with thoughts of Bradford Stiltz’s soft lips upon her hands.
The Lie
Chapter 9
Marcie pulled her long blonde hair back and twisted it upon her head in a sterling silver clasp. She chose a pale green turtleneck and brown corduroy pants, sprayed on the perfume she’d stolen from the Banana Republic, and surveyed herself in the mirror. Her stomach was upset and fluttering with anticipation as she grabbed her car keys and headed for Benjamin’s place. He’d finally invited her to dinner.
Benjamin was stretched out on the plaid sofa in his living room. He decided he had made a mistake inviting Marcie over for the evening. “She’s too good for me,” he thought. “She’s from a wealthy, educated family. What could I possibly offer her?” He chugged the beer bottle, his sixth, and felt uneasiness inside. I’ll just tell her I’m a murderer, I’ll just throw it all out there, and then she’ll go away. Yes, that would be easier than pretending I’m something I’m not. Once she finds out about all my mistakes, she’ll see me in a different light. The doorbell rang and Benjamin stared through the peephole. It was her alright, looking quite sexy with her hair pulled back. Benjamin messed up his own tresses and opened the door slowly, acting as if she had just awoken him from a deep sleep.
“Hi Ben!” She walked right past him, plopped down on the couch and silently counted the line of empty beer bottles. “So this is your place?”
“Yah, it’s my castle.” He smiled showing the small white teeth that looked like a baby’s. Marcie’s eyes skimmed the room while Benjamin faked an unnatural yawn. There was a poster of Jim Morrison and a recliner that looked like it had seen
better days. The kitchen was small, with a glass table and two chairs that didn’t match.
“I thought you were cooking dinner for us?” Her eyes gazed around the room, noticing each detail, a candle in a decorative glass bowl, a black and white framed picture of John Lennon, and a bookshelf filled with cheap paperbacks.
“Oh well, I drank a little too much last night. I don’t think I’m up for anything.”
“We could go out and get something,” she said, her heart hoping.
“I’m not really hungry,” Benjamin lied.
Marcie walked to the kitchen opened the ugly green refrigerator and uncapped a beer. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, she thought. She sat down in the worn recliner and smiled at Ben, who was trying to act as if he didn’t notice. Benjamin reached for the remote and strummed through the channels nervously. He ran his fingers through his long stringy hair and lit a cigarette. He hated the fact that he liked her so much. He never thought a girl like Marcie would go for him.
“Yeah, let’s go out,” he said abruptly, grabbing his boots. They were black with chunky heels and zippers on the inside that went up to his ankles. He wore black pants, a dress shirt that was silky and buttoned down, a black leather coat, hat, and gloves. Marcie had noticed he always wore black, his signature color. He was eccentric, mysterious, and she was intrigued by the fact that she couldn’t figure him out.
She grabbed her keys and they hopped in her Volkswagen. “Where to Ben?”
Walter The Homeless Man Page 4