CHAPTER 18
“Hey!”
Lost in a round of evening porch-sitting, Lorraine perked up, startled by the familiar, approaching figure.
“Jim? What’re you doing about at this time of day?”
He countered with a sly grin.
“The same question my dad asked when I came waltzing in, way before the end of work. Like I told him, it was a slow night at the yard. So, I marked off early. Thought I’d go, check out the centennial midway. And, considering his less than enthusiastic reaction, it might be best for me to stay away for a few hours. Want to come along?”
His abrupt bid was as surprising as his appearance.
“You mean right now?”
“Yep. Right now.”
Caught off guard, Lorraine glanced about for a hasty alibi.
“Gee, I don’t know.”
“Why?”
She touched on her sleeveless everyday blouse and cuffed shorts, worn against the warm night.
“The way I’m dressed, for one thing.”
Obliquely aware of her lithe, shapely legs and fine span of hips, Jim worked hard to not dwell on either. He touched the open collar of his sport shirt and casual slacks.
“It’s still warm weather,” he reasoned. “Everybody’ll be dressed cool. Heck, look at me.”
Lorraine put self-conscious fingers to her cheek.
“I don’t have my face on, either.”
“The one I see looks just fine.”
“Thanks. But, I’d better pass. With my folks out until late, there’d be no one to watch the house.”
Jim regarded the structure gravely.
“I guarantee that every single brick will still be here when we get back.”
She looked to Geri as a last resort. But reading her mind, Jim wouldn’t be denied.
“The moment she gets fussy we can turn around. Scout’s honor. Now, come on, for a little while, anyway. What can it hurt? I’d say we both need some diversion from life around here. No obligation. Strictly Dutch treat if you want. Besides, I feel good tonight. I have kind of a reason to celebrate and I don’t want to fly solo.”
Their eyes touched, for the first time on a new and commensurate level. For a first time as well, Lorraine felt a certain appealing sense of determination in Jim. And contrary to all she’d said, she was indeed bored with her usual evening activity. Besides, now she was curious.
“Celebrate? What do you mean?”
“Well, out of the clear blue, a new job offer came my way. Just as I was leaving work tonight. More pay and better hours. Salaried stuff.”
Her eyes widened, genuinely pleased.
“Really? What is it?”
“To be honest, I don’t know much, other than it would be some kind of yard clerk’s job; day shift and starting with a fair raise in pay.”
“Have you told your folks?”
Jim muffled a snort.
“Heck no. The offer is real, all right. But, me actually taking it is just a pipe dream. My dad would blow a gasket if I went to work for the new office boss. Still, merely having such a thing happen makes me feel good. So, what do you say? Share the moment with me. Grab Geri and let’s go downtown.”
Lorraine gave in.
“Okay. Give me a minute to close things up.”
His smile broadened.
“Now, you’re talking.”
All four blocks of the Mayhew business district awaited. Cordoned off for nothing but pedestrian traffic, its streetlights were strung with resplendent banners, proclaiming Mayhew’s 100th year of incorporation. Scads of dime store bunting and colorful pennants lolled about in the warm air, their screaming slashes of red, white, and blue, affirming the town’s staunch patriotism.
A carnival fragrance floated along the midway. Street side deli-wagons offered the fresh-grilled succulence of both local favorites, in red-hots and kielbasa; either dripping with relish and sweet onions or buried under heaps of tangy kapusta and mustard. Buttery, amber mounds overflowed from crackling popcorn cauldrons and entire families picked at generous bales of pink and blue cotton candy. Of course, draft beer and soda vendors did a brisk trade.
Familiar gaming stalls lined town streets, their carnie hawkers working local men-folk in traditional strong-arm tunes. Sing-song baiting dared guys to save face before their women - but more importantly - to part with their hard-earned cash.
“Step right up and win a prize for the little lady! Come on now, mister! Don’t be shy! Go on there, muscles! Show her what a he-man you are! Swing that mallet and ring that bell!”
The games were rigged, the odds, loaded. They pitted customer skills against doctored basketballs and tweaked shooting gallery gun sights, trying to sink that improbable hoop or nail an unlikely bull’s-eye, in hopes of winning some gaudy stuffed animal or other chintzy trinket for sweethearts and children. But, while everyone suspected the cagey swindles, all gamely turned a blind eye in the name of celebration.
The best odds were found in raffle tickets for commodities donated by local merchants. Among them were a lady’s combo of a handbag and matching shoes from Joan’s Dresses. Craft kits and paint-by-number sets came from Tom’s Toys. Free tanks of gas were offered by Paul’s Shell station and haircuts from Vic’s barber shop.
Not to be left out, the kids too, had their own special drawing at hand, in a glossy red, Huffy, Customliner bicycle. Jim and Lorraine smiled, passing the crowd of silent youngsters huddled reverently about the tank-bodied vision; young faces silently coveting its silver handgrip streamers, luggage rack, and battery powered headlight.
But, the most coveted prize for all was a new, black and white television set from Art’s appliance store. Tactically exhibited on an elevated display stand, it stood before the worshipping masses as a golden calf of primordial electronics, a dozing, one-eyed idol consecrated to the newly discovered gods of video broadcasting.
Every man of legal age found not having grown a moustache, in tune with the 100th anniversary town theme, was assessed a 25 cent fine by a gaggle of pleasant volunteers. Comically dressed in old-styled, Keystone Kops uniforms, the bogus police force carried sponge rubber nightsticks and patrolled the crowd for any offenders.
Those unable or not inclined to grow a genuine soup-strainer, had the opportunity of buying bogus, paste-on versions from those same Kops and a sea of grotesque, comical fakes rode in evidence. The accumulated monies went into a community pot, part designated for a general cleanup fund and the other, to be given away in a free drawing.
Jim violated his earlier pledge of going Dutch, impulsively buying three toy cookie dusters. Remembering that vow, Lorraine first hesitated at his outstretched offer. But, with her escort already wearing a patch of the silly bristles pasted cockeyed across his upper lip, she accepted one for herself and clipped another to Geri’s bonnet as a sign of town pride.
Lorraine felt obliged to return the gesture and shortly after, sprang for some blueberry snow cones. The couple chuckled over the cyanic-colored tongues they shared with Geri, who spared only enough time from her wide-eyed gawkings, to slurp a share of the cold, syrupy treat.
At moments during the evening, Lorraine was surprised to find herself covertly studying Jim. For the first time ever, he seemed totally relaxed in her presence; natural and self-assured. And through it, she felt herself guiltily enjoying his company. Strolling through the warm evening air, she was truly glad that she’d come along.
But that joy was short-lived. In a town where most families knew each other’s entire history, the couple was subjected to waves of indirect scrutiny by senior female eyes; all well aware of Lorraine’s pitiable, young widowhood. Inevitably, those same eyes, while pretending hard not to notice, touched on Jim, offering greetings of a guarded and bland flavor.
“Well hello, Lorraine. It’s wonderful to see you here, dear.”
/>
“So nice to see you and the baby. Have a good time.”
“It’s good to have you out and about, enjoying yourself, honey.”
As she had for the last couple years, Lorraine clicked on a familiar verbal autopilot. She metered out a forced smile and equally neutral, robotic reply.
“Hi. Thank you.”
“Hi. Thank you.”
“Hi. Thank you.”
But each new encounter sapped more of the night’s momentum. It dimmed her energy, until Lorraine finally chased an apologetic glance toward her escort.
“Sorry about all of this. Maybe it’s time for me to head home.”
Jim set his feet.
“Why?”
“Because I get the same pitying looks and words anytime I go anywhere in this town. And I’m sick of it. Now here with you, they all pretend not to see. But busybody tongues will be wagging for sure. By tomorrow the whole town will know.”
Jim tossed his head.
“Oh yeah? Then just maybe we should give them something to make it worth their while.”
Her eyes sharpened as he continued.
“You’ve got as much right to enjoy a night out as anyone. And if we happen to be together, so what? That’s no crime.”
“Yes, but. . .”
Thinking quickly, Jim snapped his fingers.
“Hey! I heard that old Mister Adamowicz volunteered for the dunk tank. We at least need to check that out.”
The notion perked her up.
“Our old principal? Really?”
“Yep. We should go and see what old Jelly Belly looks like in a pair of swim trunks, with all that pudgy, cavefish skin hanging out.”
Lorraine bunched her lips at the thought.
“Oh. He wouldn’t dare be caught in public with his shirt off. Would he? I don’t know if I could stand it.”
“Only one way to find out,” Jim encouraged. “Come on. I’ll even spring for a few balls to toss at him. Let me take Geri so you can limber up that pitching arm.”
Lorraine drew some brightening voltage.
“Well, maybe just a quick peek.”
It was approaching eleven o’clock when the trio rounded 52nd Avenue and approached the still darkened and empty Siwicki house. Clutching a new teddy bear won by Jim’s arcade skills, Geri slept soundly in his arms. Walking alongside, Lorraine wore a relaxed smile. She peeled off the mustache, yet stuck to her lip, as she slowed for the home’s front steps.
“Thanks for tonight. I am glad that I went. I really did have a good time.”
Jim nodded his own satisfaction.
“Me too. Maybe, sometime, we can all . . .do something again.”
Her smile turned a bit guarded as Lorraine motioned for her daughter.
“I can take her now. She must be getting heavy.”
But her escort didn’t relinquish his grip.
“No, I’ve got her. I’m fine. Really. Just let us in and I’ll get her put to bed.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Lorraine unlocked the door and hurriedly led their way across the dim house. Reaching the back bedroom, she was about to flip on the lights when Jim stopped her again.
“Uh-uh,” he whispered. “Might wake her up.”
Her hand lingered on the wall switch, but Lorraine obeyed. Hidden safely in the dark, she found herself daring a final study of Jim. In form, it was still the same guy that she had always known and yet here stood a new and completely different person. His actions tonight, with both Geri and herself, were suddenly so natural and intuitive, free of any uncertainty or awkwardness, that Lorraine was intrigued. What had changed? How? And why?
Maybe the unexpected job offer or sanctioned handling of her child, had awakened something of the true Jim, something assertive and confident that swept away all the old reluctance and self-consciousness. But now and much worse, something also sheathed in his actions had become disarming and provocative.
The youngster nestled in bed, Jim slowly raised. He smiled, basking in a sense of accomplishment.
“There. Not bad for a rookie, huh?”
Standing beside in the dark, Lorraine couldn’t help but agree.
“You sure do have the touch. Geri doesn’t let many people besides me carry her, let alone put her to bed. She even fusses for my dad.”
He gave a minimizing shrug.
“Beginner’s luck.”
The couple shared a few moments of watching the sleeping child, then turned to leave the room. But departing, they came face-to-face in the narrow and darkened archway. There, both stopped.
It was a complete accident, innocent and unintended; one which anyone would have normally grinned at and proceeded without a second thought. Yet here, there were no mutual chuckles of irony. No innocent apologies, or hurried exits. Instead, neither person moved, glued in place by a burst of raw speculation.
Jim crossed the brief darkness and heightened the spell. His hand reached over, seeking out Lorraine’s. She remained still, yet allowed it to be made captive. A moment later he dared to lean forward and touch his mouth to hers.
Her lips didn’t deny or accept the action. They simply lingered beneath the press of his, ripe with a sweetness of forbidden fruit. After some seconds, though, his effort still brought no response and Jim began to withdraw.
It was in his retreat that Lorraine’s indifference gave way. Her face slowly tilted back and rose to his. Any reservations fell aside. The couple kissed and parted. Paused, then kissed again. At first searching, their efforts synchronized, growing determined and eager. Bolder and more deliberate. Deeper and full-mouthed.
Jim’s lips went to Lorraine’s jaw and she raised her chin in assent. His kisses trailed down her neck and to the smooth, perfumed hollow of her throat. He dared touch on her blouse, where his fingers considered the gentle curve of a breast. Warm in his hand, the fluttering heartbeat within was defenseless and trusting.
Lorraine went deeper in Jim’s embrace. But with her movement, the gem of her wedding ring incidentally snagged between them. She jolted, as if stung by a live wire. Though still in his arms, Jim felt her mounting passion crystallize and shatter. She pulled free of him, shrinking into herself.
He was left clutching empty air and capped a puzzled breath.
“What? What is it?”
Lorraine didn’t reply. Shaking her bowed head in a wretched vigor, she backed away.
“What?” He persisted. “Me? Is it me?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, but quickly corrected herself. “No.”
“What, then?”
“It’s this. It’s all no good.”
“How?”
“Everything. Here. Now. Me. You. My life. This town - everything.”
Jim tried approaching her. But she raised spread hands as a stark barrier between them. The moment was over, done and gone.
“It was probably inevitable,” she offered, “that sooner or later something like this could happen. I don’t know what good I thought might come of it. But, I know now that it wasn’t right for either of us and I’m sorry.”
Jim respected her space, reasoning from a distance.
“Why be sorry? I’m not. And what makes it so wrong?”
Lorraine didn’t seem to have a real answer. Her eyes averted, she only sulked further away.
“Just go, Jim. Please.”
After a couple minutes more, he quietly conceded.
CHAPTER 19
Jim spent the next morning conducting pre-winter maintenance on the family sedan. He’d switched out a questionable fan belt, brought down the car’s snow tires and aired them up, in readiness of the season. Though it’d been a tedious and grimy chore, he’d initially welcomed the busy work as a dam against pangs of last night. But, his activities only seemed to cong
eal and sharpen a general ache at the root of the matter.
That Mike would’ve made one fine engineer.
How many times had Jim heard those words - or any number of similar praises? And in truth, his brother would have been good at it, like anything he’d ever put his mind to. But even when yanked from his place among the living, his presence now remained just as strong.
At Gleason High, Mike’s 100-yard dash time was still the school’s fastest; his gym class chin-up record, unbeatable. And like those or numerous other achievements, Lorraine stayed indelibly branded as another acquisition, another possession.
It might’ve been easier for Jim to exist in his older brother’s shadow, had he been someone to be envied or jealous of. But Mike never coveted praise, nor basked in his scholastic or athletic laurels. A total lack of any personal agenda automatically made him a hands-down favorite to everyone; his younger brother, most of all.
Jim’s eyes wandered into the garage. They settled on the special, off-limits cabinet hanging beside its front window. Inside, were those certain mementoes, private and reserved only for his father. But, set among them, were also the key bits of Mike’s life that Jim feloniously visited, from time to time.
“Heard you were at the centennial last night.”
Jim twitched to the unexpected voice. Returned from his usual Saturday morning stroll, Joe stood nearby. His tone was rife with innuendo. But Jim worked to downplay the matter.
“You knew I was going.”
“Not with Lorraine.” Joe declared.
“And Geri, too,” added Jim. “But, neither did I.”
“How then?”
Even with his candid admission, the young man still felt cornered and disarmed; obliged to add detail.
“I headed to the midway thinking I might see Butch or Marty down there.”
“So, how’d you wind up with them?”
Jim paused at the word.
“Them? You make Lorraine and Geri sound like lepers.”
Joe offered no apology.
“How?” He repeated. “And why?”
“No reason. It was unintentional. I was walking and happened to see them sitting on the front porch. I stopped to talk. They were home alone and looked bored. So, I invited them along.”
On Time Page 14