Memphis Legend

by Brian Crawford

  “And you learned Thai where?”

  “Uh, Thailand.”

  “I thought you were in the Philippines while in the Navy.”

  “I was stationed in the Philippines. I visited Thailand a few times.”

  “A few times is all, yet you learned to tell Thai girls they look pretty. Figures. So you were a player while in Southeast Asia. Girl in every port, huh?”

  “Khuṇdūs̄wy māk nıwạn nī̂, Khun Ellie.”

  “Did you just say you I look pretty today, or did you just ask me to marry you?”

  “I am pretty sure it is the first one. If not, we got a problem. Polygamy is frowned upon in most cultures, and, well, I did ask Sirikit first.”

  Ellie laughed. I admired her. Dating me had to be frustrating at times. All the loss, all the disappointment and turmoil in my life, had made me guarded, causing me to put up emotional barriers. True intimacy seemed foreign to me. I could only imagine most women would find me an impossible nut to crack.

  Ellie was asking me about the Philippines when the food arrived. As usual, the meal was delicious; my Red Curry with Roasted Duck was perfect. Thai hot, just the way I liked it. Ellie did not share my love of spicy food, but she had grown to appreciate several of the milder Thai dishes. She had a playful smirk on her face as she pushed her plate away.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Ellie.”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s with the smile, good day at work?”

  “Just an average day at work. Actually, I was thinking how much this felt like a real date for a change, with you picking me up…in a car, you driving, the whole nine yards. You even went home and changed, no jacket and tie. And you look great in jeans, I might add. If I had not left my car at work, you could even walk me to my door and try to weasel your way in for a nightcap. You might even get lucky.”

  I said, “Well, until now the day has seemed relatively unfortuitous. Is unfortuitous a word? Maybe my luck is changing.”

  “I don’t think it is a word, but I catch your drift. So why has your day been unfortuitous?”

  All through dinner, I kept expecting her to bring up what happened at the hospital, yet she was looking at me like she was surprised that I had a bad day. She did the weather on the same evening news program as Nicole Cassano. I kept thinking that she must have been waiting for me to bring it up.

  “You honestly don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “You didn’t listen to Nicole’s report?”

  “No. I caught something about a man with a gun threatening a pediatrician, and that security had taken care of it. Why?”

  “Well, apparently you are looking at the new security officer at Memphis Memorial Hospital.”

  “I’m not following. Wait a minute; are you saying you were involved in that somehow? Oh my god, tell me what happened.”

  Ellie listened closely, attentively, not interrupting once as I told her how I spotted the man and disarmed him. She remained expressionless as I recalled my visit to the police station and my visit with Dr. Lowe. Only while I was retelling the events involving Nicole did she show any emotion. I was not sure if I was interpreting her expression correctly, but she looked angry during that part of the story. After I had finished, Ellie continued to stare at me, saying nothing. It seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Earlier, Nicole was making some small talk, wondering where you were from, where you lived, etc. I mentioned a loft apartment over a music store downtown. I had no idea she was trying to figure out how to find you. I’m more than a little miffed that she used me that way.”

  “She was just doing her job, but, yeah, I felt the same way when I found out she was using our relationship to try and get me to make a comment. That’s as close as she is going to get with any kind of interview with me.”

  “My boyfriend, the hero. You must have been scared.”

  “No.”

  Ellie looked at me with pure bewilderment. Oh crap, I thought. I knew that look. Another civilian that could not understand my lack of fear. I knew I had better tread a little more lightly or she was going to start wondering what was wrong with me.

  “Well, I mean I wasn’t scared for my safety. I was focused only on the safety of all those kids and Dr. Witmer and her staff. You know, like a fireman going into a burning building. If he stops to think about it, then it’s time to quit and find a different profession.”

  She was nodding, seemingly in agreement. Maybe I had pulled it off. Besides, it was true. I was not afraid for myself. It never entered my mind, especially after seeing the cheap handgun and Harty’s mistakes. If that had been a Navy SEAL with a SIG or a Beretta, then I would have been afraid.

  “You are a strange man, L.T. Can I ask you a question?”

  Something about her tone made me uneasy. My inner voice agreed. “Okay…shoot.”

  “What did you do in the Navy?”

  “What did I do in the Navy? That’s your question?”

  “Yes, what did you do in the Navy?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “I know you understand the question. Maybe you don’t understand why I am asking the question, but you do understand the question. So please, again, what did you do in the Navy?”

  “I was attached to Admiral Buie, who was a military attaché in Southeast Asia. I was—”

  “Stationed in the Philippines at Subic Bay. You traveled a lot being an aid to a military attaché. Yada, yada. You have already given me that same line several times.”

  “Right, I’ve told you what I did. A bunch of classified boring stuff, although I admit the travel was nice. And I love Thai food.” She smiled at that, but it was a weak smile. “Why the sudden interest again?”

  She was quiet for several seconds before answering. “How has the last year been for you?”

  I said, “You mean since I met you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s been great. You’re the best girlfriend a guy could ask for. Better than I deserve.”

  “I feel the same way. You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

  “Ok.” My response was hesitant. I was confused over her change in direction in the conversation.

  “L.T., what’s my job, my profession?”

  “Best darn meteorologist in Memphis.”

  “There it is,” she said.

  “There what is? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “L.T., I think I am falling in love with you. There are times, like now, when that scares me, but I can’t help it. You treat me like no other man has ever treated me before. I know most people think I am pretty, God knows I have been told it enough times, so maybe it’s true. However, you are the only man I have ever dated that didn’t treat me like some kind of trophy girlfriend. You respect me. For example, not once have I ever heard you call me a weather girl; you always say meteorologist. And I have never felt safer with anyone than when I’m with you. Period.”

  I interrupted, “Okay, I am confused.”

  “I know, but bear with me.” I nodded my compliance. She resumed. “I have always felt there was a slight dangerous side to you. I mean, look at how you are built, the muscles and everything. Then there is the punching bag, the martial arts, the sparring at that gym you like. And you walk around with the most confident swagger I have ever seen. Let’s face it; everyone sees it about you. Before I dated you, men would stare at me when I went out, even if I was on a date with someone else. But when we go out, when a man spots me with you, they look away lest you catch them looking. I imagine if I was a guy, I might find you a little unsettling. Like, I said, I have never felt safer with anyone than when I’m with you.”

  “So you’ve found out you have a thing for bad boys and you never saw yourself as the type of girl that falls for bad boys. Hooray for me, this night just keeps getting better.”

  Her frown and piercing glare said it all; she was not amused by my at
tempt at humor. She did not even comment on my attempt. “But now I suspect your dangerous side is not so slight, if you catch my drift. It seems unlikely that anyone with a desk job in the military who later becomes a medical doctor could describe such a potentially traumatic experience so, what’s the word I am looking for here, so flatly. You act like today was just a normal day. I know you work in an emergency room. I know you have seen people die. But you hit a man in the head today, who might die, and you act like, well, you act like that’s normal. I don’t get it. You have had one of the most abnormal days I have ever heard of!”

  I did not want to have this conversation right then. I did not feel up to it. I would rather a mugger attack me in the parking lot. I was not scared of a mugger. This was serious. It would require opening myself up, and I didn’t want to do that. I was happy with the protective cocoon I had built around myself. It had been working for years. I could not escape her scrutinizing gaze, and I knew that if I kept silent any longer, the silence could have disastrous consequences. “Ellie, I am sorry I did not call you.” She looked unfazed by my apology. “I described the confrontation with Mr. Harty that way because it is the way I have been taught to describe an incident like that.”

  “In the Navy?”

  “No.”

  “Then you lost me somewhere. Who would teach you to talk like that?”

  Ellie was leaning forward in the booth expecting an answer.

  “I can’t plead the fifth?”

  “No.”

  “Alright, but let me start by saying I would rather avoid this conversation.”

  Ellie said, “Look, sailor boy, you can’t weasel out of a conversation just because it is uncomfortable.”

  Damn it, Tom Harty. Of all the hospitals, in all the towns, in all the world, you had to walk into mine.

  With a resigned sigh, I began my story. “It’s my mother’s fault. My whole life I have been big and strong. And fast. A freaky genetic cocktail of speed and strength.”

  “I get it; you’re big, and you’re fast. What’s that have to do with our conversation.”

  “Well, you see, I abhor bullies, all types of bullies. I’m not sure when my intolerance for them began, only that I have despised them for as long as I can remember.”

  Ellie said, “That’s not unusual, most people don’t like bullies.”

  “Yeah, but most people aren’t the toughest guy in their whole school. I was. Which meant I could actually do something about it, and I did, pretty much each and every time. My mother made sure of it. Her and that damn quote. Heard it my whole life.”

  “What quote.”

  “You know, the Edmund Burke quote. ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.’”

  “It’s a great quote,” replied Ellie.

  “Try living it. It frigging sucks. It makes you hit guys in the head in a hospital putting them in a coma. You know there’s going to be a backlash from all that. Besides, it’s all a lie.”

  “What’s a lie?”

  “The stupid quote. Edmund Burke never even said it. The most popular quote in modern times, and the man they attribute it to never actually said it. Trust me, I know. I researched the crap out of that quote! That quote has haunted me in my sleep. All because of my mother!”

  Ellie was looking around the restaurant to see if anyone was staring in our direction, drawn by my increasing agitation and volume. I looked around also. One couple was looking warily at us. I decided to temper my response.

  “I know she grew up in Nazi-occupied Norway during World War II. She has told me of the atrocities of the war, atrocities she experienced first-hand. And I know that the war might have been avoided if the rest of the world had not sat idly by while Hitler rebuilt the German war machine. But I grew up in Springfield, Illinois. In the Sixties, too young to give Vietnam any real thought. It was quiet and peaceful, and normal. I like normal. I’m a big fan of normal.”

  Ellie was still staring at me. She knew this conversation had struck a nerve. The poor girl just did not know why. And I had no intention of clearing that up for her right then. For the time being, my relationship with my mother was off limits.

  “Ellie, sorry. You asked a question that deserves an answer. Like I said, I hate bullies, and today was not my first rodeo. Once, in the Navy, I helped someone who was getting bullied.”

  Ellie interrupted, “So you learned that in the Navy then?”

  “No. That ended well, in fact, I got a commendation. It was the military. You are supposed to bonk guys on the head when they cause trouble. It’s in your contract.”

  “So not the Navy then. Keep going; I’m all ears.”

  “Once at LeClair’s, I had to help his bouncers with a problem. I broke one guy’s arm, and another one might walk funny for the rest of his life, but I saved one of the bouncers, so that also ended well and LeClair and I have been friendly ever since.”

  “You never told me about that. Why not?”

  “It was before we were dating, and I never saw a reason to work it into a conversation. Hey, Ellie, did I ever tell you about the time I put these two guys in the hospital. Not exactly typical date conversation.”

  “I see your point. I’m getting the feeling there’s more to the story, though. Am I right?”

  “You’re really not going to let this go?” She shook her head no. “There was this one time, the first time, when I was still a teenager. I might have saved a woman’s life, like today. Unfortunately, I hurt the guy then as well, and the whole thing caused a lot of trouble for my family.”

  “Oh.”

  One word, but she said it in such a manner that I realized a condensed version of the story was not going to satisfy her. I hated rehashing the past and particularly hated telling this story; however, I was not going to talk to her about what else happened in the Navy, so I guess I had little choice.

  “I was sixteen the first time. I was at a place in Springfield, Illinois, where I grew up, a place that was part bowling alley, part roller rink, part arcade with pool tables, even a small bar for the adults. I guess it was supposed to be a one-stop shopping approach to family entertainment. I went out to my car to get something when I heard a man yelling at a woman, calling her some vile words and threatening her. Getting closer, I heard him hit her, not a slap, but a thud, the type of hollow, meaty thud coming from a fist on another person’s head. I ran towards the noise and saw the woman just standing there, staggering, when he hit her again. She fell to the ground, conscious, but obviously out of commission. Right after she fell, he spotted me. He was a big guy, about my size, and even in the dark, I could tell he had been drinking. He told me to get lost, but I didn’t budge. There was no way I was going to leave him alone with the woman after what I just witnessed. So I yelled back at him, calling him names, trying to get him mad at me and get his focus off the woman, especially since it seemed he wasn’t finished hurting her yet.”

  Ellie unfolded her arms and reclined back in her booth with her mouth slightly agape in a subdued expression of awe. “You were sixteen? Was he your size now, or your size then?”

  “This happened in December of ‘73, so, yes, I was sixteen. Well, it worked; I got the man angrier with me at that moment than at her. Although I was a couple of inches taller than him, he was a little thicker than me, plus he could tell I was a teenager I’m sure, so he wasn’t afraid of me. Everything would have worked just fine, just the way I planned if not for one thing. As he was walking over to deal with me, he paused and kicked the woman in the stomach.” Even after all those years, I could feel my nostrils flaring as I told this part of the story. “It seemed to please him, so he reared back to kick her again, this time it looked like he was aiming for her head. Luckily for the woman, he was drunk and off-balance, so when he stood on one leg, he staggered backward to regain his footing. That’s when I hit the guy, tackled him is more like it.”

  She was staring at me again, wide-eyed, mouth agape again. “Oh my god, you ta
ckled him? Weren’t you scared?”

  “Not really. You’ve heard me mention that I wrestled in high school. Well, I was good. I won the state championship my freshman and sophomore years. Although he was in his late thirties and probably weighed about two-fifty, I wrestled him to the ground and got him to submit. I told him I was going to take him inside and call the cops; however, when I let him up he changed his mind and pulled out a knife.”

  Ellie said, “Your story just keeps getting worse.”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It was a pocket knife, one a farmer might use, not a switchblade or a big hunting knife. He couldn’t get the blade out since he was drunk and his fingers were cold; however, there was no way I wanted to fight a big drunk guy with a knife, so I had no choice but to take him down again. I was yelling the whole time hoping someone would come over and help, but it was cold, and the parking lot was empty. He kept screaming at me telling me he was going to kill me when he got loose, so I maneuvered behind him and put him in a choke hold. I was planning on holding him like that while I dragged him to the front door, but he became unconscious, which was fine with me. I ran into the building real quick and screamed for help and ran back out to see how the lady was doing.”

  “Was she alright?”

  “She was bruised and had a concussion, but, luckily, nothing was broken. Her name was Farah Shriver; it is Farah Schultz now; she remarried. She has two kids and a great husband. I know this because she sends me a Christmas card every year. The guy I beat up was Gary Shriver, an alcoholic jerk. I cannot remember all the charges the police filed against him; however, he had an uncle that was a lawyer who persuaded the D.A. in Springfield to consider charges against me as well. It made my family extremely nervous. I did the right thing. I did what my mother expected of me, but it still cost my parents quite a bit of money hiring an attorney, which, thankfully, later they didn’t need. There was even talk of a civil suit, but that never materialized.”

  Ellie stared a little longer before softly speaking. “You did do the right thing, L.T.”

  “Just like this time.”