Lee Fitts

by Rich Garon

  “Listen pal, meaningful political rallies are a lot more important than church picnics. Did you say pony rides?”

  Terri Herman’s Motrin was starting to wear off. She took a larger dose when Sanford was around, but it never seemed to be enough. Her stomach couldn’t handle Sanford and a breakfast burrito at the same time. Andy Herman’s sister got up and walked toward the rest room.

  “Aw, forget the pony rides. Time for you to hit the streets again. Here are your new walk sheets.”

  Lee was glad to be out of the office again. The rally had kept him inside, away from the walking he loved. The outside was as welcoming as it had been the day of the rally. His canvas bag swung like a metronome as Lee hit the pace that sent electrical charges of euphoria through his body. He remembered that Mrs. Plennington told him once that she might hire him to take some of her spa clients out on his walks. Lee thought she might be kidding.

  To get in as much walking as possible, Lee had decided to walk an extra block and then double back along the street that led from his house to the neighborhood where he would deliver his Dan Calvert for Council materials. If he walked just a bit faster, he thought, it wouldn’t take more time to cover the longer route. Because he was walking so fast, he almost didn’t see the crows – two big ones – by the pile of old landscape timbers. Both flew to a nearby branch as Lee passed and then they returned to something by that pile of wood. Lee turned and walked toward the pile; the crows retreated again to their branch. The orange fur below the eye was matted with coagulated blood. The crows had found the bobtail cat. There was a rock, small and gnarly like a potato that had been picked too soon, next to the head. Had the bobtail decided to return and give Lee another try? If not Lee, maybe someone like Lee would come by and have something to eat. Had the bobtail waited just that extra second to see if what that person had in his hand was something the bobtail could eat? Lee put his bag down and moved the landscape timbers over the bobtail and then picked up handfuls of dirt and filled in the spaces so the crows couldn’t pull at the orange fur anymore. The crows watched and then flew away. Lee knew he couldn’t be sure; it could have been anyone. He would wait to hear if there ever was an “I told you I’d get him,” when they were eating their Hungry Man dinners. But Lee thought how lucky a throw that would have to have been.

  Lee threw the Hungry Man trays in the trash. There had not been a word out of Jim Fitts since the rally. There was nothing the next morning either. Lee watched through the window as his father disappeared behind the overgrown blue spruce that extended over the sidewalk. Vigilante bike riders and walkers had taken the matter into their own hands and twisted and snapped back the most restricting branches.

  Lee studied his walk sheets as he began the mile trek toward his assigned neighborhood. He hadn’t seen many people the day before. There was one grandmother who was having the inside of her house painted and had plenty of time to talk to Lee from her chair on the patio. She told Lee all about the painting. And when she was done talking about her house, she spoke about her husband who had died five years ago, and her daughter’s knee operation. Finally, she asked Lee a lot of questions about Dan Calvert. Two streets over, there was a woman who came to the door with her little daughter. They were both wearing pajamas with short pants and Lee thought they should have put on bathrobes before they answered the door. The little girl wanted a Dan Calvert for Council badge and Lee gave her two. Several houses up, a middle-aged man pulling out of his driveway stopped to speak with Lee. But that was it.

  He would finish the other side of the street and then he would eat his sandwich and apple. His bag had a large pocket on the inside where he kept his lunch. Christie Veit, Christie Veit, Christie Veit. He had wondered if she had been serious about going on a date with him; a real date not just talking in Mrs. Plennington’s spa or someplace he by chance met her. But when she spoke to him on the phone, she said, “Yes, Lee I would still like to go out with you.” He was going to meet her at the Peter Pan Diner at 6:30. As much as he wanted someday to ask Christie to marry him, a first date had always seemed as implausible as someday marrying her. He could be a good listener; a very good listener and if Christie wanted to talk a lot at dinner, he could be prepared to nod his head at the right time. But he knew Christie would ask him questions and he didn’t know what type of questions Christie would want him to answer. Did she want to speak about Jim Fitts? Mrs Plennington? Reid? Dan Calvert? Lee thought he could figure out what to say, he just mustn’t stare at Christie as he had at the rally. Did she know that stare said Lee wanted to marry her? It was foolish, Lee told himself, he and Christie getting married; as foolish as a date with Christie Veit.

  Lee opened his wallet several times to make sure the twenty-dollar bill and the ten-dollar bill were still there. He loved the Peter Pan Diner, the little juke boxes on each table with oldies that played unabashedly just as if they were on the current charts. The refrigerated display cases, with cream pies and narrow layer cakes, stood in front of the window from which came dishes of heaping sandwiches, and platters of meat, potatoes, vegetables, and gravy waiting to claim every last bit of space on the servers’ trays.

  Lee looked around. There were no more tables and a line was beginning to form at the door. He was so glad he had gotten there early. Christie was probably hungry after working all day at Mrs. Plennington’s spa. The line was getting longer and there at the very end was Christie. Lee held up his hand.

  “Sir, I’ll be right with you,” the waitress said as she kept her hand at the center of gravity of a tray sprawling with cakes and pies.

  Lee didn’t hear her and Christie hadn’t seen Lee. Lee began to wave more vigorously.

  “Sir, please give me one second,” the waitress said, her request as frosty as the dishes of sherbet on her tray.

  Lee still didn’t hear her, but Christie had seen Lee and was walking to his table.

  “I’m glad you got here early,” Christie said, as she began to take off her light, yellow sweater then stopped. “No, better keep it on; just as I remembered, this place has super AC.”

  “Would you like to go somewhere else?” Lee asked before he could think that he didn’t know where else they could go that would be like the Peter Pan Diner.

  “No, no, this is fine. I like this place.”

  “Okay, if you are sure.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m hungry too, look at all these things on the menu. They all look so good.”

  “I have been looking at all the things on the menu and also those same things as they come out on the trays. The food on the trays is just as good as the food they describe on the menu.”

  “That’s good Lee. That’s good. Now I’m even hungrier.”

  “I’m ready to take your order now sir,” the waitress said.

  “We may need a little more time,” Christie said.

  “I’m sorry,” the waitress said as she looked at Lee. “I thought you were waving at me.”

  “Oh no, I was not waving at you. I was waving at Christie so she would know I already had a booth.”

  “Let me know when you folks are ready,” the waitress said as she tucked her flapping order pad into her apron.

  “I did not mean to confuse the waitress,” Lee said.

  “I’m sure it’s not a problem Lee. What are you going to have?”

  “I know what I am going to have: the meat loaf dinner with French fries and gravy on the French fries. Every time I have the Hungry Man meat loaf dinner I think about the meat loaf dinner at the Peter Pan Diner.”

  “Do you have Hungry Man dinners often?” Christie asked as if recognizing an integral part of a psychological profile.

  “Yes, very often; every night. But we do not have meat loaf dinners every night. There are many Hungry Man dinner selections. My father likes the fried chicken dinner. He only eats the fried chicken dinner and the Salisbury steak dinner. And we have pie for dessert; at least for three nights a week, that is usually how long pie lasts. Our dinners are not long, b
ecause my father does not talk very often and then he eats his pie when he is sitting in his reclining chair. Sometimes, if the TV is not on too loud, I will hear him unscrewing the top to the wine bottle and then screwing it back on. But he does not like me being in the room with him watching TV. So, I walk after dinner. Then usually I go into my bedroom. It is really a converted storage area, but I have some nice posters up, and I read or listen to the radio. Now that I work for Dan Calvert, I bring home my walk lists for the next day and study them. I do not want to waste any time when I get into the neighborhood trying to figure out addresses. The Dan Calvert for Council team is expecting me to get my work done on time every day.”

  Christie realized that questions she had about Lee’s father should wait. Something about Lee tonight, something about him that made her smile at him as she had ten years ago on the school bus. She wasn’t sure if she had meant to send that smile, but it was gone, delivered by the Motown sound of the Four Tops singing “Sugar pie, honey bun. You know that I love you. Can’t help myself . . .” Lee recognized the smile instantly. They both turned their eyes down to their menus.

  “Everything looks good Lee. What did you say you are having?”

  “Oh, the meat loaf special. It would not be dinner to me at the Peter Pan Diner if I did not have the meat loaf special.”

  “Well, I’m going to have the grilled chicken salad platter. I must admit, the meat loaf sounds good, but must watch my figure, don’t want anyone at the spa saying that I’m getting fat.”

  “You have a very nice figure.”

  “Why thank you Lee, I’m glad you noticed.”

  Lee wasn’t sure if he should have said anything about Christie’s figure. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Ready?” the waitress asked as she flipped a page on her wrinkled order book. She scribbled out some codes for grilled chicken platter and meat loaf dinner and left.

  “Lee, it sounds as if you like your job.”

  “Oh, I do, we are all working very hard. My two bosses, Andy Herman and Sanford Black, do not think anything can stop Dan Calvert from winning the election. Dan Calvert gave a very nice speech at the rally. I am sorry you had to miss that.”

  “I don’t know, Lee. I know you are a very loyal Calvert supporter, but, well let’s talk about something else.”

  “It sounds as if you have some questions about Dan Calvert. I am not allowed to talk to people about Dan Calvert’s position on the issues. But, I could get Andy Herman or Sanford to tell you everything about Dan Calvert.”

  “That’s just it Lee, there are some things about Calvert that I’d just as soon not think about. I’m sure there are a lot of people who forgot about the things Calvert did a number of years ago. People were so confused by Calvert’s lawyer, who made what was a right or wrong thing into a mishmash of twisted facts and statements that they lost interest and Calvert came away looking as if he hadn’t done a thing. My father worked with Calvert’s brother . . .”

  “Do you mean Dean Calvert? He was at the rally first.”

  “Yes, Dean Calvert. He used to laugh when he told my father about how his brother never got into any trouble. And at the same time, he would tell my father about all the things his brother did and what a smart businessman Dan Calvert was. It was a big joke. Calvert had gotten such great press, picture in the paper, all kinds of community awards for making space available in several buildings he owned for homeless shelters, low-cost housing and neighborhood clinics. When I read about Dan Calvert, I thought he was one of the greatest men there was. But then, according to what his brother told my father, a development company out of the blue offered Calvert a huge sum for his properties. He accepted on the spot and told the charities some ridiculous story about how with the proceeds from the sale of his properties he was going to get them even better facilities. He never did. He kept stringing them along. The money he got from the sale, his brother said, more than made up for the tax write-offs he lost when he kicked the charities out. I’m sorry Lee, maybe I shouldn’t have told you all this. The only reason Calvert is going to win is because his opponent hasn’t been able to raise any money. He’s no match for all the slick handouts Calvert keeps turning out.”

  Lee thought about the campaign literature he had in his bag. Anyone reading those brochures would certainly know that Dan Calvert was a decent man, the best man for the job. It said so right there in all the campaign material and there were quotes from real people that had the nicest things to say about Dan Calvert.

  “Lee, are you all right?”

  Lee looked down at the meat loaf dinner the waitress had placed in front of him. Was someone going to tell him now that there was something they hated to tell him about the meat loaf? “Christie is everything you said true? I mean are you sure what you said is true? It is just very hard for me to believe that Dan Calvert would do something like that.”

  “Yes, it is true. I’m sorry Lee.” She had only meant for Lee to know the truth about Dan Calvert. She thought he deserved that. But the truth in this instance was a wrecking ball into the refuge that Lee had constructed around himself. He was doing a good job. Andy Herman had told him so. Sanford too had encouraging words. Could he ask them about Dan Calvert? He trusted Christie, but maybe she was wrong. But she seemed very sure, he thought. Maybe it wasn’t any of his business what happened a long time ago. Maybe Dan Calvert had been confused, maybe he was really trying to help people. Lee looked at his plate. The meat loaf special didn’t look special any more.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything, Lee. I’m sorry,” Christie said. She placed her hand on his forearm.

  Lee looked at her hand, then into her eyes. He cared about what was important to her. He cared about her. He would always remember how he felt on his first date with Christie. “I am glad you told me these things. I have walked a lot of miles thinking I was working for a very good candidate. I do not know if I can work for someone like Dan Calvert after hearing the true facts you have just told me. I brought enough money for dessert. Would you like something for dessert or do you want to leave?”

  “Why don’t we go? I’ll drive you home. We can talk more in the car.”

  The radio in Christie’s car was tuned to an easy-listening station. She turned the volume down. “Lee, why don’t you try to forget about what I said in there. The campaign is almost over. Just finish it out. You seem very upset. I don’t want you quitting or doing anything you’ll regret. She placed her hand on his forearm again and the movement sent a faint swirl of her perfume his way. He placed his hand on hers and she felt the shudder move through his body. Christie’s eyes were on the road ahead, Lee’s moved slowly from Christie’s collar to the front of her blouse to the slender belt on her navy blue shorts. She felt another shudder as she pulled her hand away to make the turn down Lee’s street.

  “You know Reid Fletcher?” Lee asked, the sight of his street sign vaporizing the pastoral scene his mind had begun to draw of Christie and him in a place where there were no angry fathers or complicated truths.

  “Yes, I know Reid. I run into him every once and a while. Why do you ask?”

  “He does not live far from here. It’s two streets over. He has a very nice room over the Tammery Inn and he has cable television. He has told me that I can come over any time. Would you like to go to see Reid? It is not far.”

  “I don’t know Lee. I don’t know Reid very well.”

  “That does not matter. I know Reid would like to have company. He can be very funny when he is watching his cable TV. It is a very good picture.” He was hoping Reid was home. Lee wasn’t sure if he could work for Dan Calvert any more after what Christie said. He might need that landscaping job.

  “Here is the Tammery Inn and there is the light that is on in Reid’s room. We can park over by the back.”

  “It’s pretty dark back here.”

  “Reid says there are some young punks around here, always throwing rocks at light posts. Reid says if he catches those punks they will
be sorry in a way they never even thought about. I am not sure what Reid is going to do to them, but I would not want to be them.”

  “Lee, I don’t think this is the safest place to be. We need to get inside,” Christie said as she walked toward the doorway Lee had pointed to earlier.

  “You are right, this is not a safe place to be.”

  Two men in T- shirts, grimy jeans, and untied work boots came out of the Tammery as Christie and Lee were arriving at the stairs leading to Reid’s room. The two men turned on unsteady legs. Lee knew they weren’t looking at him.

  “Hey sweetie,” the fat one with a tiny chin called over. “Dump that jerk! Come on with us; plenty of room in my truck.”

  Lee stopped.

  “Lee, don’t stand there. Come inside right now,” Christie said as she opened the door. “I don’t mean anything against Reid, but I really don’t care for this place.”

  “I’m sorry this has not been a pleasant visit for you so far Christie. We will not stay long at all and I will ask Reid to walk us back out to your car. He may have a flashlight so we can see in the dark.” Lee rapped on the door.

  “Who is it, man?”

  “Reid, it is Lee and I have Christie Veit with me.”

  “Hold on man, I’ll be right there.” One chain slid off its track then a bolt disengaged from the door jam. “Hey come on in; Christie, Lee, how you guys doing? Lee, man I was going to call you,” Reid said hurriedly. Christie and Lee’s eyes were fixed on the far side of Reid’s room. “Yeah, yeah, I was going to call you. It happened just like I told you it would. I won the lottery. I thought I might as well treat myself.”

  “How big is that screen?” Lee asked.

  “Forty-six inches. Yeah, they got this baby over here pretty quick. I bought it this afternoon and now it’s up and running.”

  “Boy, look at your cable TV now. Those faces are so big. Look at that picture. That is some picture, Christie. And especially since there is not much space left in here. When you are up so close, everything seems so big.”