Unexpected Angel

by Patrick McGhee

  The smiles of Walmart withered. Music no longer waltzed and jitterbugged and tangoed through his mind. The dance floor was empty. Tony was not there. Tony was not coming tonight. Wally went to bed alone.

  At five o’clock, Wally woke up to the screeching of his alarm clock. He got out of bed and started the coffee brewing. He needed to get ready for work.

  **********

  At seven o’clock, Tony woke up to the chirping of a different alarm clock in another apartment. He had to disentangle himself from the arms of the tire technician who was still asleep. He jumped in the shower. Tony needed to get ready to drive to Northbrook. His brother, Charlie, a roofing contractor, had a job waiting for him.

  ***********

  After Wally finished dressing, he ate a pop-tart and drank another cup of coffee. He wasn’t satisfied. A trip to the freezer and the microwave produced a sizzling corn dog, almost too hot to eat. Wally looked at it. See what you are missing, Tony. A single tear trickled down his face.

  ***********

  Meanwhile, after Tony finished dressing, he consumed a doughnut and a can of cola. He wasn’t satisfied. The fridge yielded a piece of leftover pizza. Tony retrieved it from the microwave. He looked out the window at the early sunshine of a glorious day. I’m sorry Wally. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Can you ever forgive me? He swallowed another lump in his throat.

  ***********

  On his way to work, around eight o’clock, Wally had to stop at a traffic light. He saw Tony’s car coming up Neville Terrace headed for the Turnpike. Tony must be on his way to Northbrook to work for his brother, Wally predicted. I hope he will commute from Poplar Hill, like he talked about earlier. He will be better off coming home to me each day. But, on second thought, he might be just telling me stuff I want to hear. I forgive you, Tony. I hope you know that. Another tear trickled down his face.

  Chapter 13

  Wally headed downtown to the office. He was thankful. He had seen Tony and shed only one tear. Was he developing a tough-skinned resistance to Tony Danforth’s drama? Probably not. Wally’s tears did little but produce wet cheeks and a snotty nose. Tony would continue to be an adult brat, doing as he pleased, with no regard for the feelings of those who loved him, or those who thought they loved him. Love has a mind of its own, paying little attention to good sense or reason. It is strange how much folks will put up with.

  Wally arrived at work about five minutes late. Mileah seized upon this to try to find out all she could. She spoke, “Wally Jackson! It’s about time you got here. My goodness, you look tired enough to be dead. Either you stayed up late having a good time, or you stayed up late waiting on somebody who was having a good time somewhere else. Tell Mama Mil’. Which is it?”

  Wally mustered a little smile. He knew Mileah was going to fish until she hooked something. “Well, I wasn’t exactly having a good time. I . . .”

  “I know,” interrupted Mileah. “It was that Danforth guy. Honey, don’t you know he is a hopeless gigolo? You are wasting your time and your money on him.”

  Wally nodded. “I love him more than anyone I ever met in my life. I can’t understand how he can do me this way.”

  “That’s what he feeds on, honey . . . He knows how you feel. He probably loves you, too. But, it is hard to be sure until you run out of money or learn to say no. In any event, he thrives on the way you feed his ego and his pocketbook. Those things are more important to some men than getting their belly fed. One of my sorry boyfriends was that way. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “You mean he’s really using me, and all of his passion is just pretending.”

  “I’m sorry, Wally. I don’t want to hurt you, but it looks like that might be the case. Most men are sorry losers who don’t really care about anyone but themselves.”

  Norman, who had overheard this part of the conversation, cleared his throat. “Well, I know a few men who are not like that. Me, for instance, I’ll have you know, I spend a lot of my time giving my women just exactly what they’ve dreamed about. And, they are very grateful for such a generous offering. Most of them come back for more.”

  “Well, honey bun. I will admit you are blessed with plenty of what it takes to please a woman. I know. I felt satisfied enough to last me for a week or more.” Mileah put her hand over her mouth. “Oops! Shut my mouth! I do believe I wasn’t supposed to tell about that.”

  Wally chuckled. “You mean you . . . and Norman . . . you all have done it? Oh, this is so wicked, so funny.”

  “Yes, Wally dear. You remember the day you told us about lending Tony seven hundred dollars? Well, Norman and I got together that evening. I will tell you, he’s a hot number. You would love it.”

  Wally added. “I have so . . . so dreamed about it.”

  “Well,” said Norman. “I’d be happy to share it with you. I’m packing plenty. But, you’re not a woman, and I’m not gay, so it wouldn’t work.”

  “Since we’re letting it all out,” quipped Mileah, “I might as well tell Wally that you’re a mighty kisser, too. Oh, Lord, you sure do know how to use that tongue. I came up for air twice, and you kept going for more. I mean, you are very gentle; but you are also insatiable.”

  Norman looked puzzled. “You’re losing me, Mileah. What’s insatiable?”

  Wally interrupted. “It means you can’t get enough.”

  Norman snapped. “How come you answered that, Wally? You aren’t the one I kissed.”

  “I wish!” swooned Wally. “How I’d love for you to let that tongue loose on me. Oh, I would absolutely die for that. You are the most gorgeous hunk I ever laid eyes on . . . Oops, sorry Norman. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “You didn’t embarrass me. I’m kind of flattered. I am just sorry I can’t grant your wish. I mean I have thought about it–ever since you told us about Tony kissing you. But, I cannot bring myself to do it–you know–kiss a guy. It’s so . . . so not straight.” Norman frowned slightly.

  Mileah chuckled, “And, if you decided to kiss a guy? Would it be just any guy who puckered in your face? Or, would it be somebody special–somebody you had really wanted to kiss?”

  “I don’t want to embarrass anybody, or give any false hopes,” replied Norman, “but, if I was going to kiss a guy, it would have to be Wally. He is the only guy I know who would be worthy of my lips.”

  “Whee-oh!” exclaimed Mileah. “Did you hear that Wally? You’re at the top of his list. My, oh, my!”

  Norman replied sharply, “Don’t make light of it. Wally is precious to me. If I could ever bring myself to love on a guy, it would have to be him.” Norman turned to Wally. “Don’t go around expecting that any time soon, Wally, old boy. There’s still a lot of women who need my body.”

  Mileah snorted. “Oh my gracious Lord. Somebody go get a shovel.”

  Wally smiled. His face was beginning to turn red. “Thanks, Norman. Don’t forget me.”

  Mileah added, “Too bad Dorinda is off today. She would have lots to say about this. I mean lots.”

  Norman adjusted his shirt and his package. “We need to get to work before Muncey comes in here.”

  The three went to their desks and began to work. Once in a while, Mileah would pause and chuckle. Now and then, Norman would gaze out the window, as if in a trance. Then, he would adjust his package. From time to time, Wally would close his eyes and have sweet visions of both Tony and Norman. If he ever had to make a choice, it would be difficult.

  Chapter 14

  The last thing Wally wanted to do after work, that evening, was to go home and face the silence of his apartment. Before this latest episode with Tony, the quietness had not bothered him. He would often take extra pains preparing his dinner–yeah, dinner for one–or was it more like dinner for two with one serving of leftovers? It didn’t matter. Cooking something he liked or trying something new, at least three times a week, yielded a sense of well being. Of course, if Wally had decided to prepare supper, he would have to make a trip to Walm
art or Food Lion. He always saw familiar people there. And, the employees? There were delightful ladies, young and old, and gorgeous guys, like they came straight off the cover of a catalog. They all seemed to take a special interest in enriching his shopping experience.

  If he didn’t want to cook, he could always do a frozen dinner and rent a movie. And, there was the Spanish class he was taking online. It was a bit pricey, but worth the money and the effort. If nothing else, it brought him closer to Norman.

  Norman said his father had been born and raised in Puerto Rico, and his mother had come from South Carolina. That was all Norman ever said about his family. If he were asked about them, he simply changed the subject. Norman was proud of his Hispanic heritage, and he was bilingual. He predicted that, one day, the state would start hiring interpreters to help with the increasing number of Hispanic clients who were coming into the Employment Bureau or going to Health and Human Services to apply for assistance. Norman was a natural candidate for such a job, but he encouraged Wally to learn Spanish because he thought Wally might also like to be an interpreter. That way the two could still work together. Strange dude, that Norman. A sexy hunk sought by the ladies, yet still concerned so much for Wally and his activities.

  As Wally crossed the parking lot, he made the decision not to go home right away, or even to go to Walmart, or the grocery store, or the mall. He would try something he rarely did. He would eat out. He would be around people. He wouldn’t miss Tony so much. Oh, Tony! What was he going to do about Tony?

  Wally didn’t know much about the restaurants in Brockton. He reckoned there were plenty of them, both fast food and traditional. Yes, he was familiar with the food court at the mall, but this did not seem appropriate, today.

  What came to mind was a family-style restaurant, The Dinner Bucket, just two blocks from his apartment in Poplar Hill. They had a good selection of sandwiches. Their daily specials were excellent. However, Wally didn’t enjoy dining alone. That was his only reason for not going there often, at least the only reason he gave to other people. He had heard there was always a nice crowd of, decent, church-going, hard-working people, come dinnertime. He probably knew many of them. He imagined they were rather sociable, perhaps stopping briefly at each other’s tables, just to say “hi,” while they were waiting for their food. He knew of folks from the same church, the same office, or the same family who would push several tables together to enjoy the fellowship–laughing, talking, and gossiping. Oh, sometimes they might get a bit noisy, but it was respectable noise, commotion that Wally could handle today. He needed people. But, before today, he had been reluctant to seek them out.

  As he parked in the lot at his apartment building, Wally figured he might as well go straight to the restaurant. It was nearly 5:30. If he went upstairs to his place, he might not come back out. Going to the restaurant would allow him to be part of the crowd. It would help him not to think about Tony being gone.

  It wasn’t long after Wally entered the door of The Dinner Bucket that the homey atmosphere of the place began to put him at ease. The dining room was almost full. He wondered if there would be a table for him. He would stand for a moment, just past the cashier’s counter, in hopes that Daisy, the waitress, might see him and direct him to a table.

  The owners of the restaurant were fortunate to have Daisy on the staff. She had become somewhat of a fixture around the place. She had a knack for learning the likes and dislikes of nearly every person who dined there. Once, someone had asked how she knew so much about the patrons. “I don’t have a clue,” she answered. “I reckon it’s part of my job.”

  It wasn’t just the food and the atmosphere that brought people into the restaurant. Daisy was an attraction in herself. She wore crinolines and ruffled blouses, a fashion straight out of the fifties. Her overdone lipstick and mascara highlighted a warm smile. She constantly chewed gum, often with an occasional popping noise, though she was quick to tell all that it wasn’t bubble gum. Her trademark, however, was her cowgirl hat, which she wore atop a pageboy hairdo. She had a hat to match each of her skirt-and-blouse outfits, and a few others with rhinestones for special occasions.

  Only a minute or so had passed before Daisy greeted Wally in her elegant southern drawl. “Why, Wally Jackson. So nice to see you all. Land sakes, honey. It’s been a spell since y’all been here. We don’t have no empty tables, but Pastor Bob, from your church, just came in not two minutes ago. He is by himself. Do you think y’all would mind eating together?”

  “I don’t mind as long as he doesn’t mind,” quipped Wally.

  “Well, honey, he doesn’t mind. I’ve done asked him. Pardon me, but I didn’t think you wanted to sit with the Widow Jeffries. Why it ain’t been six weeks since her husband dropped dead coaching a ball game, and she’s already gone man crazy. I don’t like to talk about people, but she’s a mess. She’s done caused several little scenes in here, just in the past week. You don’t need that. I’ll put one of her busybody friends with her if they come in.

  As Daisy ushered Wally to Pastor Bob’s table, he noticed some folks from Fairmont Avenue Pentecostal Church who had arranged three rectangular tables in a row so they could all sit together. They were well into their meal and seemed to be engrossed in a pleasant conversation mingled, here and there, with hearty laughter. These were gracious, warm, and caring people, some of the friendliest in town.

  Irma Jean Wildey, who was sitting at the table with the Pentecostals, waved her hand, as Wally passed by, and greeted him. As usual, she spoke loud enough to draw attention from tables nearby. “Lord love your soul, honey. I’ve not seen you for a while. Did you know I am playing the piano down there at this church?”

  Wally smiled and nodded. It appeared that Irma Jean was about to strike up one of her discourses, emphasizing her prowess at the keyboard and her importance to the congregation, but Daisy motioned for Wally to move on to his table. He was relieved. Irma Jean wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. She manipulated everybody, threatening to get upset, or to resign from this or that. People were so tired of her temper flare-ups that they generally let her have her way. Besides, she and her husband, Irving, put a pile of money in the offering around the first of each month. She had a way of magnifying minor disagreements to a level somewhere just shy of Armageddon. So, people usually smiled and talked syrupy sweet around her. And, if something of major importance was on the horizon, they would try to have a meeting about it when Irma Jean and Irving were out of town on one of their trips. They were both retired.

  Pastor Bob, the local Presbyterian minister, was sitting at one of the booths that lined the inside wall of the dining room. He was a young man in his early thirties, with short auburn hair and a goatee. He was unmarried when he first came to this church. After five years in the pulpit, he was still unmarried, despite many attempts by the Lady’s Afternoon Circle to match him up.

  “Good evening, Wally,” said Pastor Bob motioning for him to sit down. “Daisy tells me there are no empty tables. As I have no one to eat with, this is perfect. I told her to bring you on over here. I have something to talk to you about.”

  Wally took his seat. Pastor Bob was a nice enough fellow. Wally would enjoy his company. He discovered that the pastor had ordered the special for the day, country steak and gravy. He would do the same. Wally gave Daisy his order when she came back with his iced tea and silverware.

  When he was sure that Daisy was out of earshot, Pastor Bob leaned toward Wally and spoke softly. “You actually saved the day for me. Do you see the Widow Jeffries over there at that small table? I hear she is trying to find her a new husband. I am right sure she has been making eyes at me. You know how you can just feel those things. She is in her late forties, don’t you know? I don’t think we could have a thing in common. Now, that you are here, she will leave me alone.”

  “Well,” said Wally, “I can see why you wouldn’t want to get hooked up with her. But, some of the younger ladies in Poplar Hill think you’d be a handsome c
atch. Tell me, why haven’t you married one of them?”

  Pastor Bob’s face grew serious. “Actually, I may never get married. I do believe I am called to singleness. And how about you, Wally? Why haven’t you landed a nice girl to be your wife? You’re not getting any younger.”

  Wally was on the defensive, but he tried not to appear upset. “My reasons are a bit different. I imagine you’ve heard about that.”

  “Yes, I have,” remarked Pastor Bob. “I really can’t give you any insight there. Our denomination doesn’t frown on sexual diversity like it used to. So, it’s really a matter between you and God.” Pastor Bob took a sip of his tea and went on. “Putting all that aside, you are a good organist.”

  “Thank you,” said Wally. “I feel called to play the organ. It’s like it is part of who I am.”

  “What concerns me,” said Pastor Bob, “is that sometimes you seem distracted, like something is bothering you. Is it that Tony guy, the one you went to visit in jail?”

  During the course of the meal, Wally unloaded the tale of Tony Danforth. As they talked, Pastor Bob warned him not to let people take advantage, and not to consider Tony a valid partner unless he changed his behavior.

  A commotion near the center of the dining room distracted Wally and Pastor Bob. It was loud enough to grab the attention of Irma Jean and the Pentecostals. They immediately shut up. It was disturbing enough to bring a hush over all the folks in the dining room. Well, not everybody. One little boy could be overheard saying, “Mommy, I gotta go pee.” But, the kid had to wait because his mommy was paying attention to an altercation between the Widow Jeffries and Ethel Sue Lawson. Ethel Sue, a short, stout, sassy woman, had just walked into the Dinner Bucket, sashayed over to the widow’s table, and slapped her with a smack that could be heard back in the kitchen with the garbage disposal running.