by Ron Hess
I sighed and turned my thoughts back to more mundane things, like paperwork. The .22 pistol rubbed on my back, a constant reminder that Ivan was not going away. I was not looking forward to a fight, but I saw no other way. In any event, I just hoped I held my own, not only for what other people might think, but for what I might think.
Chapter 25
I was sitting at the table drumming my fingers, in time, I suspect, to some unknown brain wave when I heard a knock at the back door. There was no doubt in my mind this was going to be a momentous evening. There was a fork in the road coming as far as my relationship with Jeanette was concerned. I wanted the decision to come, but I wished it could have come at another time. But that’s life for you, and so I took a deep breath and headed for the door with a smile on my face.
“Hi, Leo.”
It was Jeanette, dressed up, fit to kill in black slacks, blue silk blouse, blue earrings, red lipstick, right amount of rouge; in a word, she was stunning. She had a smile on her face, but it looked tense.
“Hi, Jeanette, come on in while I get my coat.” I gave her what I hoped was a big old dazzling smile to put her at ease. She did a quick look up and down the alley and slipped inside. And I wondered as I closed the door, was it for my reputation or for hers? The rumor mill in the village could get pretty intense, with whispers and knowing looks. To keep her hands still she folded her arms.
“Leo, uh . . . if you don’t want to go with me I understand. I mean it was kind of forced on you.”
Her arms came unfolded. She was ready to bolt. Bless her heart. Now she was taking mine. And awkward old me. All I could do was shake my head as I put my coat on.
“Nope. Are you kidding? I would be nuts to turn down a chance to go to the game with a pretty woman. No, ma’am, I’m going to hold you to this date. I’m looking forward to it, as a matter of fact.”
With a final flourish, I slapped the red cap on my head. “How do I look?”
There was a small smile on her face. “You look fine.”
“Thank you. Now, how about a pre-game hug before we go.” The words slipped out before I could retract them. Deep down inside I knew I wanted more than a hug. In a second Jeanette covered the six feet between us and gave me a full press hug. Then, God help me, I tilted her head back and slowly brushed her lips with mine. She was breathing hard as she turned her head against my chest.
“Leo, we have to take this slow. I want this to be right for both of us. You should know I play for keeps. Right now, you can walk away, but it won’t be long and you’ll have me whether you want me or not. I hope you understand.”
She moved her head to look me straight in the eye. I knew now I had finally found the right one. She was right, we weren’t kids anymore. We needed to be sure that what we had was not just a physical attraction. Not to mention the cultural differences that might stand in our path. She stepped away, literally shaking. My legs weren’t too steady either so I sat down with a thump in the nearest chair.
“Leo,” she said, looking off into the distance, “there’s something else you should know. Ivan is in town and will probably be at the ball game. You don’t have to go, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” I answered. “I got invited by a pretty girl and I’m going.”
With that statement made, I stood up, straightened my cap and walked briskly to the door.
“Okay, Princess, let’s go,” I said, as I opened the door. She gave me a big smile that let me know I had said the right thing and we left, walking side by side. Other people by now were on the street moving toward the school. There was much laughing and talking. This was to be the first big game of the season with an archival. Basketball is a game small villages take pride in for a number of reasons. It doesn’t take but five players, there isn’t much equipment needed, and since it’s an indoors game, the weather isn’t a factor. True, the players are not as tall as their black and white counterparts, but what they don’t have in height they have in speed.
There was the old story about a couple of pro-basketball types conducting a basketball seminar in northern Alaska. One of them played a game of one-on-one with one of the local villagers and lost! What a story that made. From that time on, native players walked with their heads held just a little higher.
I swiveled my head from time to time looking for Ivan. No need to have him sneak up on me while I was lost in the euphoria of village life.
“Is Charlie going to the game?” I asked.
Jeanette gave me a sidelong look. “No, he had to go down river.”
That little piece of news churned a worry-knot in my gut. If Ivan chose to make a scene, then he would be much harder to contain. My face must have reflected my concern.
“Are you okay, Leo?” Jeanette asked quietly and at the same time gave a big cheesy smile to a lady-friend who tried not to smirk back.
“Yeah, I’m okay, but I wish Charlie were here,” I said, and jammed my fists into my coat’s pockets. I looked down at Jeanette and forced a smile.
“But, what the hell, there’s a basketball game waiting and we’re going to enjoy ourselves, right?”
Jeanette nodded and smiled. “Right,” she said.
We walked through the doors of the gym. A shiver walked up and down my spine for there he was—Ivan—sitting on a bleacher seat near the entrance. He was drinking from what looked to be a pint of something in a brown paper bag. The seats next to him were empty. Evidently, no one wanted to be around him should an explosion occur. He turned to look at me.
“Well, look who has come down to be with the people,” he growled. I concluded then and there he was one of those people who got extra mean when they’re drunk. Mean drunks can have everything choreographed before they strike. Yeah, you can hit them, but don’t be surprised if they get up and hit back. I just stood there and looked him in the eye. I would have stood there all night if I had to, because I was resolved that he would look away first. Finally, he frowned and looked back out on the floor, as if watching the pre-game warm-up. Maybe the beating I gave him counted for something after all. Sure it had been an unfair fight there in the restaurant, but I was the winner and one-up.
Jeanette and I walked above him a few seats and sat down. I let out a long drawn-out breath. So far, so good. Now Ivan would have to twist around to see me, but in doing so he would have a bunch of eyes staring back. Uncomfortable to say the least. I was determined Ivan was not going to ruin the night.
Jeanette gave me an anxious look. “Are you okay?”
I tensed my eyebrows and smiled. “Sure I’m okay. Now tell me about this game.”
Jeanette nodded and proceeded to tell me who was what kind of a player, and who to root for. Unfortunately, the poor visitors were hurting on this account, as there weren’t more than the players and a coach on their side of the gym. It would be a real victory if the visitors won, but Jeanette assured me in the character of a hometown supporter, “That would be impossible!”
The game started and I was dazzled by the speed these guys had. The ball and the score bounced back and forth. Half time came. A few people got up and wandered about discussing the pros and cons of the game. It could have been any small mid-western town in Indiana. The cafe the next morning would be full of people talking about who did what and why they goofed, typical shoulda’s and coulda’s with people nodding or shaking their heads.
Jeanette, with a flushed face, introduced me to various villagers. The names I knew, but now I could put names with faces. Good people, as solid a people as you could find. They graciously shook my hand with a quick look at Jeanette, as if to say, “Is this your fella, and are you sure about this white guy?” I realized I was being formally introduced to the extended family. Then half time was over. People returned to their seats and waited calmly for the grand finale. Jeanette let out a nervous sigh.
“You did well,” I murmured.
She gave me a smile that would light up a dark room.
“Thank you, it was a pleasure. I thought
it was about time the people who had been gone for the summer met you.”
I nodded, pleased I was with such a smart woman. A woman looking out for her man? Maybe . . . yeah, I thought so. Life was truly getting interesting. After that thought, my attention was drawn back to the game with an occasional glance down to where Ivan sat. I still had a slight shiver sitting on my spine. It was just a matter of time with him drinking. I had a mighty big wish for Charlie to be on the scene.
The game’s score seesawed back and forth. A classic sporting event where someday down the line, someone would say, “Remember that game where so-and-so made that basket from the corner?”
Then Ivan, his voice slurred, started to criticize the ref. After a while the bottle in the bag fell over by his side. Its contents began to flow onto the bleacher beside him. He was so drunk he didn’t notice the spilled whiskey. Jeanette elbowed me in the ribs. Things were starting to get out of hand, but after a few boos from the crowd, Ivan quieted down and reached for his bottle, only to find it empty. He was ready to blow his top..
The buzzer sounded just as a member of the hometown team threw the final basket putting our side one point ahead. The gym broke into pandemonium. Grown men yelled. Basketball moms screeched like teenagers, and I got another quick hug from Jeanette, whose face promptly turned red. Tomorrow would find some people with hoarse voices. At last, the hoopla settled down and chattering people started filing off the bleachers with Jeanette and me following. I looked for Ivan, thinking he would have to start something. In the mill of people I couldn’t see him, and I was beginning to think I was going to live another day. We were just leaving through the gym’s doors, when it happened.
“Hey, white-man, where in hell do you think you are going with that woman?” There was no mistaking that slurred voice.
I froze. Son-of-a-bitch, he wouldn’t let it go. Jeanette tugged on my arm and looking straight ahead, muttered, “Don’t let him get to you.”
I couldn’t let it go either. Maybe there was a time when I would have but not now. My pride wouldn’t let me.
“Jeanette, would you keep these for me?” I handed her my glasses and cap.
She accepted them, but I could see she wasn’t happy about it. The people who had been chattering happy stuff grew quiet. Mothers began shuffling small kids out the door.
“Hey, Ivan, take it easy, you’re drunk and this is not the time or place.” This rejoinder came from a middle-aged man who had sat above me.
“The hell I will.” Ivan said, swaying from side to side. I couldn’t decide whether this was some sort of technique or part of his drunk, but in any case I knew he was dangerous as I made my way through the crowd toward him. I remained quiet, letting him do all the ranting and raving and weaving about with his fists cleaving the air. Maybe it would tire him. Meantime I kept my eyes on his chest, looking for the movement that meant a fist or foot was coming my direction.
“You think you can come to our village and steal our women?” he asked and stopped moving. I said nothing and just kept the left side of my body facing him with my arms at my sides. “What’s the matter, white man? It’s different when you have to face a real man in a fight, huh? I’m going to show you what happens when white men come into our village and try to steal our women.” He looked around with a knowing smile, but the circle of men that surrounded us remained stone-faced. He would get no moral support from them.
I kept my eyes focused and waited for that first swing. It had to come. He couldn’t put it off forever. He had to make good on his threats. I had no sooner thought that when his right fist moved my way, only it was so clumsy a move I couldn’t believe it. It was just one step above slow motion.
“Stand still, you son-of-a-bitch.”
That was a laugh. I hadn’t moved an inch. Obviously, Ivan was seeing double. The men about me began to shake their heads. This was stupid. This bully, who had most everyone intimidated in the village, couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. Someone laughed. Ivan turned and scowled. “I’ll get you later,” he said, and turned back to me while launching a powerhouse right. This time I moved my head back a few inches. His fist went swishing past my chin causing him to get off balance, and he slammed down to the floor on his stomach. I backed away and waited. He turned his head and looked up at me. He started to say something and then threw up. The men turned away in disgust as he finished gagging and tried to stand up, only to fall down again in his vomit. It was not a pleasant picture. Ivan was finished. He would not carry a voice in this village again for a long time. He tried again and this time he managed to stand with a defiant look at the men.
“Ivan! What have you done?”
I didn’t need to turn to know whose voice it was. It was the old man John’s voice with all its authority.
“I was teaching this white man a lesson, only he wouldn’t stand still!”
The old man came into my line of sight. “Ivan, I told you to leave him alone, but you wouldn’t do it. Now, look at you. You are a disgrace to yourself, to me, and worse, to this village. I want you to leave. Now. You are never to come back. Do you understand?”
“Never come back? But, father, I live here.” He said, his voice pitched higher, like a teenager.
“No, you do not live here anymore.” The old man said this last statement quietly and slowly. Ivan with flecks of vomit on his coat, stepped back as if hit by a club.
“Father . . .” he began, and stopped when he saw the old man’s face. It was a final judgment. A judgment that would not nor could not be overturned. He stood there a few seconds as if digesting this turn of events.
With a bewildered look on his face, Ivan turned to me. “It’s because of you that this happened.”
He looked down at his coat and the tears flowed, but he did not utter a sound. Then before I could react, he withdrew an old-style Colt six-shooter from his coat, and pointed it at my chest. He stood there just out of my reach, swaying from side to side, but the gun remained aimed at my chest. It hadn’t been cocked, and I knew it had to be cocked before it could be fired.
“Put the gun down, Ivan, don’t make things worse for yourself.” It was the old man, still with that voice of authority, still in charge.
Ivan shook his head no, and cocked the old pistol. Now it was too late for me to try to manhandle it away from him. He cocked his head to the side as if trying to examine his enemy from another angle. Then in a normal tone of voice as if we were comrades.
“Do you know how to die . . . Postmaster?”
I knew I was going to die. After all the things I had lived through, I was finally going to die. This was it. I was too petrified with fear to move, let alone answer him. We stood there a few seconds more before he spoke again with a smile. “I understand the dying part is easy. It’s how you die that hurts. I will show you how it is done.”
Slowly Ivan turned the pistol and put it in his mouth. Off to my side I saw the old man reach out with his hand.
“No!”
Ivan opened his mouth in a grotesque grin because of the pistol barrel and with a final sidelong look at me, pulled the trigger.
The gunshot’s noise was deafening, the sound seemed to roll around the gym, wave on wave. Then it was silent. No one spoke. I turned to look at the old man. There was not one tear on his face and I had a hunch his mind had been made up about banishing his son a long time ago. It was only a question of when.
Ivan himself now lay on his back, arms stretched out like a cross, with blood pouring from the back of his head onto the blood-splattered hardwood floor. His face still had the semblance of a smile with the pistol lying against the side of his cheek as if caressing it. The police were to find out later that Ivan had aimed the pistol so the exiting bullet from the back of his head had lodged in a far corner of the gym, and not in an innocent bystander. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs of shock. I was alive and I wasn’t sure why. Why hadn’t he killed me first? There was no answer, and it was one that would haunt me the rest o
f my life. More baggage to carry.
A middle-aged man, Carl, I believe his name was, gently took me by the arm and led me from the floor. At the gym’s door, Jeanette took over, and with my glasses and cap back on my head, we left the building, the white schoolteachers asking if they could help. Jeanette politely told them thanks, but no, she would take care of me. We walked silently back to the post office with people around us saying nothing. They too, were stunned by what had happened. Even though suicide was no stranger to them, this one would be hard to accept. Ivan, who had always been so strong, bully or not, was dead. There was sorrow not only for Ivan, but also for the old man, John. There was no one else to carry on his family line now that Ivan was dead.
My legs had gotten shaky and I stumbled along, my eyes on the ground. My thoughts whirled. Was I entirely responsible? Or, just the catalyst in the equation.
“It’s not much further, Leo,” Jeanette said, and squeezed my arm hard, maybe with the thought she could bring me back to the here and now.
I nodded, grateful she was there and grateful the situation between Ivan and me was over. I vowed I would recover as I looked up from the ground determined to stop the shaking in my legs.
At last, we were at the back of the post office. There was a fumbling of the keys and we were through the door. I collapsed on a chair and stared around the room.
“I’m alive, Jeanette. Really alive.”
She pulled the other chair close beside me. Her hand reached out to cover mine.
“Yes, Leo. You are alive. And . . . loved.”
Her head turned away when she said this and I suspected she wasn’t one hundred percent sure before we went to the game. Now she knew, and had surprised herself when she said the words.
I moved her head back to face me and slowly put my arm around her. I nodded and she nodded back. It was true. She laid her head on my shoulder, and before I could stop it, my baggage door opened, and I poured Vietnam and the deaths there on her head. I moved on to my marriage and the deaths there, and was I the cause of the death this very night? We sat for awhile with me enfolding her in my arms and sobbing my life’s story, then asking her if she really wanted to be mixed up with a reformed drunk. Tears formed in her eyes.