ODD NUMBERS

by M. Grace Bernardin

  “So what about it? Was it too loud for you, Sal?” Vicky said interrupting.

  “No, not at all, it’s just that… well, I liked it.”

  “Thank you. Can I go now?”

  “It’s kind of a different style of music for you, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe I’m changing my style,” Vicky said, picking her defenses right back up again where she’d nearly dropped them. “Maybe you ought to try changing your style too.” Vicky started to walk away but Sally was right on her. The balloon, only having lost a little air, continued to cling to her.

  “Almost sounded like something Frank would play.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact it was Francis who loaned me the album you heard.”

  “Francis?”

  “That’s his name.”

  “Since when did you and Francis become chums?”

  “I’d love to continue this conversation, Sally, but I really must go or I’ll be late for work.” Vicky turned her back to Sally with a smile of victory. She could almost hear the rush of air leaking rapidly out of the large red balloon.

  A few nights passed before Vicky arrived home from work to find Frank’s light on. She almost wished it wasn’t. The thought of visiting him again made her nervous. “Have I ever felt nervous around a guy before?” Vicky asked herself. She thought about it. She searched her memory. “Never,” she answered her own question as honestly as she could. “This ain’t like me. Where’s your guts, girl?” she muttered to herself as she walked into the building. “Of course I don’t have to visit him,” she argued with herself. “You had an excuse to barge in on him in the middle of the night last time. Ain’t got no excuse this time. But I gotta return his record and I gotta give him his thank you gift. Just leave them at his door. Don’t disturb him none.”

  Vicky went to her apartment and quickly retrieved the Chopin album and her thank you gift which she had wrapped and made a bow for. She stewed over just what to write on the attached thank you card. She finally decided on the following.

  Dear Francis,

  Thank you for loaning me Chopin’s Greatest Hits. I had to listen to it a few times through before I got it. But when I finally got it, I loved it. Especially the Nocturne number 1. Would you tape it for me? I would appreciate it. Please accept this token of thanks for your kindness and hospitality.

  Later,

  Vicky

  She fluffed out the bow on the package and left her apartment, quietly closing the door behind her. Something told her to be as quiet as possible, not just because it was well past midnight but because she felt strangely secretive, like a child stealing a sweet right before supper. There was some forbidden pleasure in this early A.M. visit to Frank.

  Vicky made her way down the hall when she noticed Sally’s light was on and her door was ever so slightly ajar. She tiptoed swiftly around the corner and up the stairs, looking back only once. No sign of Sally though the light was still on and the door still ajar. “Nosey bitch!” she muttered.

  “He’s up. You know he’s up,” she continued to argue with herself all the way up the stairs. “What’s the big deal anyway? It’s the ‘80’s, man. He ain’t gonna think you’re forward. He’s not gonna think you’re forward,” she corrected herself. “Watch that hickabilly talk around Francis. Gotta quit talking like an ignoramus.

  “Francis won’t care,” she argued back to herself in a whisper as she stood at his door, the silence of the dimly lit hallway feeding her anxiety. “Maybe he left his light on so I’d see it and I’d come visit him. Yeah, right! Get over yourself, Vicky, ol’ gal. I wonder what grandma would suggest? A fine lady doesn’t just knock on a gentleman’s door in the middle of the night, that’s what she’d say. Shit! Why am I acting so weird, anyway? What’s with me?”

  Vicky decided on a compromise. She would knock softly, ever so softly on his door. If he didn’t answer she would leave the gift and the album and go. If he did answer, that meant he really wanted to see her.

  Her knuckles wrapped lightly on the door while her heart pounded hard and fast. She was ready to leave the album and the gift and go when she heard the sound of footsteps moving toward the door. “Be cool, Vicky, be cool,” she told herself.

  The door opened and there he stood, wearing a warm navy blue robe with the collar up almost to his ears and his tan leather slippers. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said so dryly that for a brief moment Vicky wondered if he was serious. His face broke into a smile and she smiled too. The pent up tension needing sudden release caused Vicky’s smile to turn into an uncontrollable giggle. Frank quickly motioned her inside.

  “I hope I didn’t disturb you,” Vicky said once the giggling subsided.

  “Not at all; as a matter of fact I was hoping you’d see my light on and drop by.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah, I could use the company. I can’t sleep.”

  “Again? What are we going to do about you, Francis?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the expert.”

  “What do you mean by that? I’m boring? I put people to sleep?”

  “Hardly! No, what I meant is you’re a bartender. It’s you’re job to help people relax. So what do you recommend?”

  “A two by four.”

  “What goes in that?”

  “No, I mean a slab of wood across the skull.”

  “Literally?”

  “Brings about a state of unconsciousness every time.”

  “I thought you meant a drink,” Frank laughed.

  “No, but that is a great name for one. I ought to come up with something.”

  “So what did you think?” he said, pointing to the Chopin album in her hand.

  “I liked it very much. Of course I had to listen to it a few times for my ears to adjust. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I do. I like the way you put it, the part about your ears adjusting. That’s so true, especially with new types of music you’re not used to listening to.

  “Let me help you with your coat,” Frank offered.

  “No, I really can’t stay. I just wanted to give you this,” she said handing him the album and the gift.

  “What for?”

  “Just a little thank you gift, you know,” Vicky stammered, “for the other night.”

  “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you but completely unnecessary,” He opened the front hall closet and placed the gift up on a shelf, which nearly broke Vicky’s heart with disappointment.

  “Well, ain’t you gonna open it?”

  “Absolutely, I just wanted to help you off with your coat first.” He was behind her in a moment, his fingers gripped around the collar of her coat, ready to remove the wrap from her shoulders.

  “But I really can’t stay.” Vicky pulled her coat around her.

  “Can’t or don’t want to?”

  “No, it’s not that I don’t want to.” Vicky turned to face him. His look was one of complete earnest.

  “Then stay.”

  “All right. As long as you put it that way I guess I can’t refuse.”

  This time the wrap slipped easily off her shoulders into his hands. Frank hung Vicky’s coat up then retrieved her gift off the closet shelf where he had placed it. He examined the neatly wrapped package with the yellow bow. He said nothing but only smiled that pleased little boy smile for a moment before making his way over to his desk, which stood just to the side of his bookshelves. He pulled out a fancy looking letter opener with an ivory handle from a maroon leather cup filled with pens and pencils and such. He opened the envelope which contained her thank you note with the fancy letter opener.

  “I just rip my mail open,” Vicky said, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

  Frank’s eyes quickly scanned the note. He laughed like she’d never seen him laugh before. Vicky’s spirit dropped and heat rushed to her face as she wondered what she’d done wrong. She’d looked up “especially” and “appreciate” in the dictionary to make sure they were spelled c
orrectly. She had her boss check the note to make sure grammar and punctuation were correct. What could it be?

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Chopin’s Greatest Hits,” Frank said gleefully.

  Vicky thought. It said, Chopin–Masterpiece Selections, on the album cover. She took it to mean his greatest hits.

  Frank must’ve noticed the look of chagrin on Vicky’s face and set about at once to put her at ease. “No, no, that’s great. They are his greatest hits. I’ve just never heard that term used for classical music before.

  “I’m so ignorant.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re refreshing.”

  “So is a bottle of pop, but that don’t make it very smart, doesn’t make it very smart. See there I go using incorrect English again. I’m trying to improve my speech.”

  “You’re one of a kind, Vicky.”

  “You too, Francis. I never met anybody who signed a letter ‘I remain’ before. Of course you remain. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” Vicky said quickly pulling out of her morose self-consciousness and throwing the banter right back at him. Frank smiled.

  He opened her present so slowly it nearly drove Vicky wild with impatience. She watched as he seemingly in slow motion pulled the scotch tape off, careful not to rip the wrapping paper. “You planning on saving that and using it again? I had an aunt, Bobby’s mother in fact, she had this problem–couldn’t get rid of anything. She’d rewrap presents in used wrapping paper. It drove her crazy at Christmas to see us kids tearing into them presents. ‘Don’t rip it, don’t rip it,’ she’d holler at us. You can’t believe the junk we found in her basement when she died. Anyway, she’d approve of the way you’re opening that gift.”

  Frank just smiled as he pulled the flat package out of the paper. He scrutinized it closely, his eyes moving back and forth over the letters on the paper label. Vicky thought it best to tell him what it was before he got too confused. “I decided to give you the stars–glow in the dark stars, that is. You stick them on your ceiling. Here, let me show you,” Vicky said in a sudden rush of enthusiasm. She slipped her shoes off and stuck her hand out to receive the package. Frank obediently handed it to her. “Follow me,” she said as she jogged down the short hall to Frank’s bedroom. She flipped the light on and hopped up on his bed.

  “Don’t worry, it ain’t a real gluey substance so it won’t damage the plaster none,” she said ripping open the plastic package and pulling out the contents. “It’s just a very light adhesive, just enough to stick. Here feel for yourself,” she said, unpeeling the back of one of the stars and holding it out for Frank to touch.

  “It’s all right, I believe you.” Frank said.

  She was so excited about showing Frank the finished product that she nearly forgot he was in the room watching her as she stood on his bed, peeled the back off the stars, stretched as far as her long limbs allowed her, and began sticking the star shaped pieces of plastic to his ceiling. After affixing about several stars, she stopped to give her outstretched arm a break and to see his reaction. Vicky, who was so good at reading people, did not know how to read the expression on his face except to say that it was something akin to shock. She gasped at the realization that she may have offended him by her impulsive actions.

  “I’m sorry, Francis,” she said stepping down from off his bed.

  “What?” he said, looking even more confused.

  “I’m outta line, ain’t I? Come on admit it. I barge into your private boudoir and force my tacky-ass gift on you. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

  “Boudoir? Isn’t that a lady’s private chambers?”

  “Well, how should I know? I’m ignorant and tacky.”

  “Oh, geez, I stuck my foot in my mouth again.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get my stars off your ceiling in no time then I’ll be on my merry, tacky little way,” she said hopping up on the bed again.

  “Wait! Please give me a chance to explain before you jump to the worst possible conclusion!”

  Vicky looked at Frank again. She searched his face as he stammered in frustration to get his meaning across. “I love the gift. I never received anything so unique.”

  “Unique? Is that’s a polite way of saying tacky?”

  “No, that’s not true. I keep saying the wrong thing. Maybe it’s better if I don’t speak at all. Vicky, I’m speechless.”

  She saw it. Or thought she saw it there in his eyes. He wasn’t shocked at her so much, as himself. Could it possibly be, Vicky wondered, that what she saw (and was now seeing) on his face as he looked at her was desire, and his own disbelief and shock over that desire? Maybe, but probably not. Frank would never desire someone like her, but then she realized that she was in his bedroom, standing on his bed in her stocking feet and all the connotations that might occur in a man’s mind. Men are very weak creatures where sex is concerned, Vicky thought, and no one knew that better than her.

  She quickly stepped off the bed again. “You really mean it? You really like the stars? ‘Cause if you don’t, I can have them down in a jiffy. No big deal. Different strokes for different folks. It’s really no big deal.”

  “I really like the stars. Please give them to me. I’ll finish the rest,” he said taking the package from her hand.

  “Sorry about this mess I made on your bed,” she said picking up the debris from the stars and the package in which they came and crumpling them up in her hand. “Were you ever in the service?”

  “No, why?”

  “Looks like you could bounce a quarter off this bed. That is before I jumped on it and got it all messed up.”

  “Vicky.”

  She squeezed the crumpled paper in her hands. The sound of his voice speaking her name made her feel weak and she didn’t like that feeling. “Gotta waste basket?” she asked before he could get a word out.

  “Over there,” he said pointing to the corner of the room. Vicky threw the waste away then turned, crossed her arms, and looked at him defensively. “What do you want?” she said, doubt and suspicion furrowing her brow at the persistent thought that he was merely being condescending about the gift.

  “I want to look at the stars with you,” he said as he reached over to the wall and flipped off the light switch. It only took a second for Vicky’s eyes to adjust in the darkened room and the stars on the ceiling to glow forth.

  “Wow,” Frank said, “they’re different sizes.”

  “Yeah, and some are brighter than others. Just like the real thing,” Vicky said, beginning to believe in his sincerity but still uncertain as to whether or not she should.

  She was aware of him moving closer to her in the dark until he was right next to her. He bent down slightly until, again, they were practically cheek to cheek like the other night when they stood outside and looked up at the real stars. He only had about an inch and a half to stoop because of Vicky’s height. He put his hand on her back.

  “Look there’s Aldebaran,” he said pointing.

  “Well, I’ll be. And there’s Orion’s belt.”

  They stood in silence and looked up at the glow in the dark stars. Vicky felt excited, nervous, weak, and most of all, angry at herself for feeling those things. She wished she was a little buzzed, not drunk enough to do something stupid, just a little buzzed so she wouldn’t feel so jittery. She wanted to put her hand on his back too, like it was nothing really, like she could play this game as well as he.

  More self-reproach at her inability to relax around a man like Frank if she wasn’t relating to him as a customer, wasn’t fixing him drinks or cracking jokes, but just standing there with him in a dark room, staring at the ceiling with nothing but a tense silence between them. Finally she just did it. She put her hand on his back and at that moment their pose evolved into a kind of half hug, one pulling the other closer until each had an arm draped around the other’s shoulder. This closeness to Frank pulled all the defensiveness and doubt right out of her, though she kept trying to grasp them back with th
e fingers of her mind, to clutch them and return them securely to the prison of her heart. But instead she felt them evaporate through every nerve ending of skin that was warmed by Frank’s touch. She wanted to put her head on his shoulder, to be completely and forever vulnerable. She dared not, though, thinking this was enough, in fact, almost too much.

  “Want to look at the real stars again, only this time through a telescope,” Frank said.

  “You have a telescope? Well, of course you do,” Vicky said answering her own question. “Where is it?”

  Frank reached around her and flipped on the wall switch. They both squinted and blinked from the harsh reality of the sudden bright light, and of course, their embrace ended. “It’s in my closet right now. I’m ashamed to say I haven’t used it in a while. I was thinking about setting it up on the patio. We’d get the best view that way. But I don’t know; it depends on if you mind freezing your kuester off again.”

  “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

  They set up the telescope on Frank’s patio and bundled up in coats, hats, and gloves. But Frank had to set the stage before they could actually look through the telescope. He poured some brandy for both of them, Vicky herself recommending brandy and a little warm milk as the very best thing for cold and insomnia. Frank couldn’t go for the warm milk so they drank their brandy straight.

  He brought his tape player outside and played the music ‘the planets’ by Gustav Holst, which consisted of a piece of music depicting each planet (with the exception of Pluto which had not yet been discovered when Holst wrote the music). The music had to be playing and they had to toast with their brandy before Vicky finally got to look through the telescope. It was the first time for her. She kept expressing awe, while Frank kept expressing disappointment over the ever increasing light pollution which made their viewing less than optimal. He said it was getting as bad as New York City. Vicky suggested they pack up the telescope one evening and drive out to the country. Frank liked the idea. And so they looked at the stars until they could bear the cold no longer.