Desperate Times

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  “Stop!” ordered Jimmy, reaching down and picking up the discarded knife. “Don’t move another inch!”

  “Look out, Jimmy!” shouted Bill in a shrill voice.

  Jimmy turned just in time to see the tattooed man running up behind him. He had nothing in his hands and obviously intended to tackle him. Jimmy lashed down with the bat and caught him square on the left forearm. There was a sickening crack before the little man screamed in pain. He clutched at his arm, holding it tight to his stomach. Jimmy quickly returned his attention to Cowboy Hat and was surprised to see that the big man was rushing him, moving in fast enough to blow the hat off the top of his head. Jimmy stood sideways. In his left hand he held the stiletto and in his right was the bat. He cocked his right arm back and timed his swing, waiting until the guy was nearly on top of him before giving it everything he had. The blow caught Cowboy Hat in the midsection, dropping him in his tracks. He grabbed his stomach with both hands and rolled on the ground, a terrible expression his face.

  “You son of a bitch,” he whispered, trying to catch his breath.

  “I would’ve shot him,” the old man said, holding the shotgun in shaking hands. “I would have.”

  “I know you would’ve,” said Jimmy. “And then you’d have ended up in jail for God knows how long.”

  An hour and a hundred questions later, Jimmy and Bill were finally back on the highway headed toward Crown. The State Patrol had eventually shown up and hauled the two would-be truck-jackers off to jail. After thanking Walt Burns, the farmer, many times over, they had hopped in the truck and headed east.

  During that time the station had run completely out of fuel and had closed up tighter than a drum. More than one car had left rubber in the lot, having waited fruitlessly for a very long time.

  Jimmy called Paula again, and there was no answer on her cell or at the trailer. He cursed his phone and dialed Ken’s number and explained what had just transpired. Ken was happy that they were all right and then pleaded for Jimmy to get to his place, just as soon as he could. Jimmy said that he’d be there as soon as he got home and packed a few things. He hung up and slid the cell phone back into his shirt pocket. It’d been some day already, and he knew it was still early. He wondered about Paula, wondered if she’d be there when he got home, wondered if he’d ever see her again. The thought left him feeling sick to his stomach.

  “You’re just like Rambo,” said Bill, grinning his stupid Bill grin.

  “Shut up,” said Jimmy, smiling in spite of himself.

  “Yessir, just like Rambo,” Bill repeated. “You’re one genuine bad-ass.”

  Jimmy laughed. He didn’t feel like a bad-ass. He hadn’t been in a scrap since he’d been in the ring, and that had been a long time ago. Now this was his second one today. His instructors had taught him the difference between wanting to fight and needing to fight. And he’d needed to fight in both situations, hadn’t he? He wasn’t sure on the first count, but it’d felt good to lash out at someone, anyone, and he wasn’t sorry for it in the least.

  “Did I tell you about my cousin?” asked Bill.

  Jimmy groaned and turned on the radio. The Rolling Stones were playing, and he turned up the volume until the speakers were on the verge of distortion. One song followed another, and Jimmy thought how odd it was that the station hadn’t interrupted for any commercials. Hating himself for doing so, he left the volume at a level too high for conversation as they continued toward Crown. Bill didn’t seem to mind.

  Every so often they would come upon a homemade sign at the end of a driveway: Repent! The end is near! Jimmy wondered about that. For sale signs hung in front of many of the other homes they passed; most had been repossessed and sat empty and lifeless. Others, with long driveways had cars and trucks parked at the ends, blocking the entrances as effectively as iron gates. From time to time, they’d pass armed farmers looking over their herds. The highway was nearly deserted. Occasionally they’d be passed by loaded vehicles going well over the speed limit.

  The attempted truck-jacking fresh in his memory; Jimmy drove straight into the trailer park which was nearly empty, even for this time of day. Passing the vacant trailers at the posted fifteen miles per hour, he noticed that those who remained were packing their cars and heading somewhere. Where, he could only guess. He turned down Tom Petty’s voice on the stereo as he took the turn down his street.

  Paula’s Mustang wasn’t there.

  Tina’s Grand Am was sitting in Bill’s driveway.

  Bill’s head snapped back. He leaned forward and blinked hard, as if he were dreaming. “What the hell?” he asked. “What’s she doing here?”

  Jimmy shook his head, wondering the same thing. He pulled the Mack to the curb and set the brakes, cutting the engine. For a long moment, he and Bill sat there in silence. “Where is she?” Jimmy asked. He had thought she’d be home by now, and a terrible worry washed over him.

  “She’ll be home any minute,” said Bill, looking at the floor. Not daring to look Jimmy in the eye.

  “Right,” answered Jimmy.

  “Sure,” said Bill. “So, what do you suppose Tina wants? Do you think she wants to get back together? I’ll bet Larry kicked her out as soon as he found out how bad things are. I can’t blame him. You know, I knew she’d be back. I really did. She had her little fling, but the chips are down and she needs to be with someone who really loves her. You know what I mean? As much as I hate everything that’s happened, I can forgive her. She’s back now, and that’s all that matters.”

  Jimmy nodded, knowing that Bill had no idea that what he’d just said had cut him so deeply. He agreed with one thing, except the chips weren’t just down—they were off the table. He thought that if Paula really loved him, she’d be here waiting for him.

  “I’m gonna head inside, man,” Bill said. “Stop over before you head out, okay?” he asked, unable to contain the smile from his round face.

  “Will do,” answered Jimmy, feeling as if he were about to be sick.

  “I’m going to lay down some ground rules,” Bill said, opening his door and stepping to the curb. “She’s gotta clean up her act and remember who’s boss. That’s me, damn it. That’s me.”

  Jimmy nodded, watching Bill as he closed the door and practically strutted up to his double-wide trailer. He hoped everything would turn out. Both he and Paula had really liked Tina and their daughter, Cindy. They had seemed like good people with good manners. Jimmy got out of the Mack, locked the doors and walked slowly up to his own empty home. He knew he should be rushing, but the wind had left his sails. He inserted his key, hoping somehow that Paula was inside. Maybe she’d lent her car to someone?

  He opened the door and realized immediately that she wasn’t there. Paula’s purse was off the hook in the kitchen, and her checkbook was missing from the table. Jimmy frowned. He knew he had a lot to do and that he had to put her out of his mind while he took care of the business at hand. He lit up a smoke and walked straight into the spare bedroom. The room was a mess of mismatched knick-knacks and pieces of unwanted furniture that he’d been reluctant to part with. He sidestepped the clutter, opened the closet door and began tossing out duffel bags and his hodge-podge collection of battered suitcases.

  He stopped and called Paula’s cell. No answer.

  He began packing his clothes but soon found himself packing for Paula. He couldn’t help himself. He packed everything he thought they might need, even taking the bins of winter clothes that Paula had stored away the week before. He had trouble choosing shoes for her as she had nearly fifty pairs of them. He tried to choose sensible ones. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances. Boots, sweaters, jackets, gloves and hats, pillows, bedding, shaving kit and toothbrush—everything went into the back of the Mack. He grabbed the portable CD player and the AC/DC television. He bagged up what canned or boxed food they had, dismissing what little they had in the fridge. He tossed the perishables into the trash and carried the bag outside to the can which he wheeled to the curb
. Then he walked back inside to the bathroom and packed whatever he thought they might need or want, taking every last roll of toilet paper except for the roll hanging on the wall. He even remembered the lock box under the bed which contained their birth certificates, Social Security cards and other important papers. The entire process took him less than half an hour. He paced the hallway, wondering what else they might need.

  He tried calling Paula again, letting it ring until her voice mail picked up. He left a message in a defeated voice: “Please come home. I love you. We’re all packed and ready to go. Call me?” A tear ran down the bridge of his nose. He slowly closed his cell phone and put it back into his breast pocket.

  Dejected, but still holding out a sliver of hope, he picked up the remote control and sat down on the couch and turned on the television. It was now five o’clock, and the news would be on. He tuned into channel eleven and was surprised to see a different news team on the thirty-two inch screen. He’d always watched the NBC news, and this strange news team had him puzzled. Oddly, they led off with a sports story. They followed up with a ten-second blurb about the failing economy which was quickly followed with an in-depth story about lawn care. Jimmy sighed and pushed the down button on the remote, only to find the same team on CBS. Open-mouthed, he clicked up to ABC, and there was the same news team spouting the same nonsense about the same nothing. Jimmy sat up, clicking through the channels; each showed the same smug-looking news crew doing the same story. One hundred and seventy stations, all running the same broadcast.

  Jimmy shut off the television and wondered about this. He knew he should be on his way to Ken’s, but he couldn’t leave until he’d heard from Paula. He just couldn’t. He ran his hand through his hair, avoiding the painful spot on top, and decided to call her one last time. He took a deep breath, opened his cell phone and dialed her number. Nothing happened. He stared at the small screen on his phone and discovered that there were no antenna bars. He roamed from room to room; nothing changed. He cursed to himself, walking out the front door into the afternoon sun, all the while looking at the display on his telephone. No bars. He groaned, holding the phone toward the sky in hopes of finding a signal. There was none to be found. He turned around and went back inside, making straight for the telephone on the wall. He picked up the receiver and was surprised to hear a dial tone. He punched in Paula’s number.

  “All lines are busy right now. Please hang up and call again, later. Thank you.”

  Jaws clenched, he slammed the phone back into the cradle.

  Jimmy paced the floor, not knowing what to do. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks as he fought with himself over the decision he must make. Thinking about this only made the tears fall faster. Where was she? Why wasn’t she here? He agonized over these thoughts. He weighed things out in his mind. She knew what his plan was and where he was headed. She’d been there a few times last summer. The money was gone from the table, so she had the means to get there. He had her things packed, and they were loaded in the back of the Mack. Ken and Patty were waiting for him. He’d said with or without her. That single sentence burned in his mind. Ken had trusted Jimmy with the truck and to show up. He’d given him the money to buy supplies and was undoubtedly waiting for Jimmy to roll in so he could load up whatever else they might need. Jimmy wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew what his decision must be: he had to leave. He didn’t want to, but deep down he knew that waiting for Paula was foolish. He had to face the truth—she wasn’t here.

  Jimmy snubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and walked to the front door, surveying his home for the very last time. He nodded to himself. He was ready. He had responsibilities, and he’d made a commitment. He twisted the lock and walked out the door into the afternoon sunshine.

  And there was Bill. He sat red-eyed on his steps, hands in his lap. Jimmy didn’t see Tina’s car and wondered where she’d gone. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Four

  The Dow Jones market peaked at 381 in 1929 and bottomed out at 42 in 1932, dropping a staggering 89% in just three years’ time. The market would not reach the 381 mark again until 1955. During the week of the Black Tuesday crash of 1929, the market lost ten times the amount of the annual federal budget.

  “She’s gone,” said Bill. “She dropped off Cindy and said that she was leaving town for the weekend. She didn’t say where she was going, or who she was leaving town with, which is just like her. She just got in her car and drove away.” Bill’s eyes were red and swollen.

  All Jimmy could do was shake his head. He’d hoped that Tina was still there keeping Bill occupied. He wanted to avoid what was going to be one very awkward goodbye. Jimmy had no choice but to leave Bill and his problems behind. He had to get moving. The Dahlgren’s were waiting on him.

  “So, you’re really leaving?” Bill asked in a quavering voice.

  “For a while,” said Jimmy, feeling the guilt build inside his chest.

  “I wish I had friends like that,” Bill said, his bottom lip puckered like a pouting toddler’s. “You don’t think Mr. Dahlgren would have room for two more, do you? I hate to ask, Jimmy. I really do. I’m scared man, scared to death. We have a tent. We could sleep in that. I’d do it for you; you know I would. They won’t even know we’re there. Please, Jimmy, please?”

  There it was. Bill had let the elephant out of the living room, and it was now trampling on Jimmy’s conscience. Jimmy looked down at his boots trying to find the right words. This was hard for him. He didn’t want to abandon him, yet what could he do? Bill wasn’t a bad person; he just liked to listen to himself talk and got under people’s skin. Still, he was handy to have around. You could give the man a screwdriver and a couple wrenches and he could fix darn near anything. And when he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself, Bill could be the life of the party. He had a story for every occasion, even if he tended to stretch the truth more than just a little. Bill had his faults, there was no doubting that. Jimmy knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the easy thing to do, but it was the right thing to do. As much as he hated the thought of it, he knew he had to at least ask Ken if they could tag along. Bill was right about one thing—Jimmy knew that he’d do the same for him.

  “Give me a minute,” Jimmy said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll call Ken. My cell isn’t working, but I think I can get him on the land line. I’m not making any promises, Bill. Do you understand me? If Ken says no, there’s nothing I can do about it. All right?”

  Bill’s eyes welled up, and he suddenly held his meaty arms out and hugged Jimmy. “Thanks, man,” he said in a choked voice. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down. I just knew it.”

  Jimmy slapped Bill on the back, not quite sure what to do. Men didn’t hug in his world. Not unless it was at a funeral, and even then it was uncomfortable. Bill wasn’t letting go, and his grip tightened into a bear hug until he actually lifted Jimmy off the ground.

  “Okay, okay,” wheezed Jimmy. “You can put me down.”

  “Right, right,” said Bill, releasing his grip on Jimmy and stepping back. His face was wet with tears, but he was smiling broadly. “Thanks, man,” he repeated, wiping his face with both of his pudgy hands.

  Jimmy nodded. The way Bill was looking at him was creeping him out; he wasn’t used to all of this affection. “I’m going inside to call Ken, and I’ll be out in a few minutes. I really don’t know what he’s going to say. I can’t promise anything, Bill. You understand that, right? You might want to clean up and change your clothes, just in case.”

  “Sure, sure,” said Bill, his face still beaming with that silly smile.

  Jimmy nodded and turned, feeling Bill’s eyes on him until he was safely back inside his empty trailer. He paced the floor, trying to think of the right way to put this to Ken. He had to sell him on the idea of Bill tagging along. He would use Bill’s skills as a handyman to begin with, but beyond that he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. They’d met a few times; it wasn’t like he was inviting a complete stranger. That was t
rue. The problem was that the two men were polar opposites. Ken was a businessman, accustomed to giving orders. He was very structured, and things had to be just so in his little world. There weren’t many gray areas with Ken; he was a black and white guy. He’d worked hard for what he had and expected others to do the same.

  And while Jimmy thought about the world of the Dahlgrens, he understood that they lived in a world beyond his comprehension. And perhaps the same could be said in reverse. He knew that they cared for him; their generous invitation had more than proven that. Still, for the past year Jimmy had suffered working only thirty hour weeks. He wasn’t making ends meet. The pile of unpaid bills and disconnection notices were growing on his small desk like a cancer. The Dahlgrens had seemed oblivious to that fact. They must’ve known. On some level they had to have known he was sinking.

  “Where are you, Paula?” he asked himself. The very thought of her out there, somewhere, took the breath out of him. Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she here? Couldn’t she at least call him? Was that too much to ask? No, it wasn’t, Jimmy thought bitterly. She was acting like a spoiled child, and he felt a sudden surge of anger. Jimmy cocked his right fist back and thought about putting it through the wall. By sheer force of will, he stopped short of doing so. A broken hand wouldn’t do, not now. He sat on the couch and put his head in his hands, his heart pounding inside his chest. Why did he let her do this to him? How could she make him so irrational, so damn crazy? He didn’t know. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed her number. He couldn’t help himself; he just had to know that she was all right.

  Again, there was nothing. Not even static. Jimmy nearly threw his phone across the room. He got up and tried his home phone and was shocked to hear a dial tone. Please God, just one more favor? He got up and went to the desk, retrieving the rolodex and looking up Paula’s parents’ phone number. It wasn’t a number he knew by heart; he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d called there. There it was—Peterson, Mom and Dad. She had to be there. Jimmy thought about them and felt the anger return. They were a family with old money. The kind of money that made the Dahlgrens of this world look like paupers. They lived an hour south in the affluent Minneapolis suburb of Edina. The sprawling old family home had no fewer than eight bathrooms, complete with servants and a guest cottage. They’d had big plans for Paula, and they blamed Jimmy for spoiling them. They’d said as much, and the minute she’d left Concordia College and moved in with him, they’d cut off her generous allowance. He hadn’t asked her to leave school and hadn’t dreamed she’d do such a thing. Still, they’d blamed him. One day she’d simply shown up, her sleek Mustang loaded to the hilt with her belongings. Jimmy was working overtime back then, and while he was far from rich, he was comfortable in a blue collar way. Jimmy’s world was utterly foreign to her, and there had been some growing pains. Lately, the little disagreements had blossomed into huge arguments. Most of their fights had to do with money.