Humpy had reached down and picked up an old beat-up, galvanized, bucket and flipped it into the air. With his arms reaching toward the sky and his head tilted back, he watched as the bucket lazily tumbled through the air. And that was when I shot him. The rattlesnake under the bucket had already struck twice, but because of the sudden light and possibly being disoriented when its impromptu home was lifted, it had missed his leg only by centimeters. Without thinking the situation completely through, I aimed and fired. For the longest time, Humpy stood there looking down at his feet watching the blood seep through the holes made by the shotgun pellets. Then he looked at me, and I did what any sane fourteen-year-old would do when he’d just shot his best friend, I ran! Just as fast as my short legs and small feet would carry me, all the while calling over my shoulder. “There was a snake under the bucket; I was shooting at the snake!”
After about a mile-and-a-half, Humpy finally said, “Okay, I won’t beat your brains out, but there had better be a snake back there or you’re dead!” Exhausted from the chase, we went back to the place where Humpy was standing when he tossed the bucket, but there was no snake to be found. After about ten minutes of laborious searching, Humpy was beginning to question the existence of a snake, and my sanity. Just when he had concluded that I had made up the snake story to cover up an attempted homicide, he bent down and picked up a Coontail Rattlesnake. It was fifty-four inches long and had a dozen buttons an inch wide. We skinned the snake and later Humpy had a hatband made from the skin. Good old Dr. Klump had the job of removing numerous number-nine shotgun pellets from Humpy’s calves and shins.
Six months later, we found ourselves on a freight train heading to El Paso, Texas, although our destination was Oro Grande, New Mexico. I had a girlfriend in Oro Grande and the only way to get there was to jump a freight train in Tularosa or to walk almost sixty-five miles. I liked to walk but not that much. Not even for a lovely, older woman of fifteen. My girlfriend had a sister who wanted to meet Humpy and after some lengthy convincing, I finally talked him into jumping onto the train with me. It would be the first time that Humpy and I would jump the train together, but not the last.
The train always slowed down in Oro Grande, and it was just the simple matter of stepping off the ladder. However, on this particular day, as the train approached Oro Grande, it showed no inkling of slowing. Suddenly I realized that if we remained on the train we were going to end up in El Paso, and more than likely we’d be caught by the bulls at the train yard there . . . and maybe get our livers kicked out.
So in detail, I told Humpy what we had to do. “Tuck and roll! Just climb down to the bottom rung on the ladder and let go! Tuck and roll.” Humpy shook his head and refused, but I finally convinced him that we did not want to be in El Paso.
Reluctantly he did what I suggested and climbed down to the bottom rung of the ladder on the box and let go. He tucked and rolled, tumbled and flailed, bounced and skidded for thirty feet before finally coming to a stop in a pile of tumbleweeds.
Perhaps the engineer knew we were on the train, or maybe it was just synchronicity, whatever it was, it seemed that no sooner had Humpy let go of the ladder that the train began to slow down. I climbed down the ladder and stepped off the train as it neared the other end of town. When I looked up, a severely tattered, scraped and torn, Humpy was coming at me at an excessive rate of speed. So I did what any sane fourteen-year-old would do when a six-foot-six, two-hundred-pound, pissed-off kid comes at him with murder on his mind. I looked him squarely in the eye and did the thing it seems I’ve done best since meeting with Humpy. I ran!
Strangely enough, Humpy’s father was a very small man. At one time he had been a jockey until he finally grew too old to ride, then he hired out as a horse trainer. He was so short that, at fourteen years of age, standing flat-footed, I could look him in the eye. His mother was even shorter. On more than one occasion his father had jokingly said, “If Duane didn’t look the spitting image of me, I think I would have to divorce his mother.”
On the day of the momentous train ride, I could not look his father in the eye. As Humpy limped into his home, bloody and torn, his father looked at me and shook his head sadly. He tucked his thumbs in his belt and spat tobacco at a bug trundling across his front yard.
Finally, he lifted his head and said, “If I didn’t know better, Tom, I would swear that you were trying to kill my boy.”
Dr. Klump put six stitches in Humpy that day, three in his upper arm and three in his knee. When he finished with Humpy, he came to the waiting room and said to me. “Tom, are you sure you’re Duane’s friend?”
Within eight months time I had managed to initiate twelve stitches in Humpy’s body, six, in his head from a bottle, and six from the train incident, not to mention the several number-nine shotgun pellets that had been removed from his feet and legs.
Many years later, I went to visit Humpy’s father, and, as always, he greeted me with a smile and a hug. We talked about old times and about all the trouble that Humpy and I managed to get into over the years.
Looking back at the trouble that I got Humpy into, I asked his father, “Why in hell did you let me hang around?”
He smiled and said, “I thought about running you off or simply running you over, more than once. And his mother thought seriously about poisoning you. But, until Duane met you, he was a lonely kid with no friends at all. He seldom left the house and for the most part, he was miserable. A kid his size draws attention to himself and kids can be mean. More often than not, they will pick on someone like Duane and the things they say can hurt. There are many ways to injure a sensitive kid and some do not require a rock or a stick. You never said one thing about his size. You always accepted him as he was. You were constantly spinning wild stories and looking for adventure, and Duane loved every minute of it.
“That is why I refused to let the wife poison you and backed off from running you over. You were good for Duane and I knew that if you didn’t kill him accidentally, that he would be better off for having met you.”
Duane married Karen two years after graduating Texas Tech. He is now working in Boulder, Colorado for IBM and has a boy named Tom. Tom is a short, skinny kid who loves riding horses, spinning wild tales and getting in trouble. Humpy has often said, “If my Tommy wasn’t the spitting image of me, I think I would have to divorce my wife, or shoot my son’s God Father.”
The last time I talked to Humpy on the phone he told me that about a year ago, he had gone for his annual check-up and the doctor had found a hard lump on his shin. After the x-ray, the doctor had performed a minor surgery, removing a number-nine shotgun pellet.
Humpy told me that he kept the pellet and when things begin to look bad for him, he takes the pellet out of its special box, holds it in the palm of his hand and remembers that things could be worse . . .
Checkmate!
Irma wondered, “Will anyone ever love or want me”? What man would take a whore into his heart much less his home? What family would see me as anything other than a prostitute who has lain with countless men, selling off my body and soul one piece at a time for a few coins? And honestly, can I lay with a man and not see the countless faces that have preceded him? How can I find love in a man’s heart when I see only the lust in his eyes? How can I feel, when those who lay with me only seek the pleasures of my body? How can one ever find love when they no longer know, or feel love? I am lost, body and soul.”
Irma turned the knob shutting off the water to the shower, then picked up a towel and dried herself. The music in the main part of the bar vibrated against the walls of the back room. The man that she was with had already dressed, leaving her to her own thoughts. How many more men, how many more nights, how long must I continue to abuse myself like this? She picked up her clothes, dressed, and then went to the main bar. She glanced at the stage where the dancers were and saw Kiki finishing her last act. Soon it would be Irma’s turn on stage to perform, letting the men sitting at the tables and along the bar
get a good look at her. She will sway seductively luring their eyes to her body, and their minds to lust.
Once Kiki had finished her act, Irma stepped on the stage, found her rhythm and started dancing. At one time, she listened to the music, now she no longer heard it nor saw the men that watched her. When the music played, it became the puppet master and she the puppet that danced upon its musical strings. The faces in the audience all looked the same, with eyes that crawled over her body, wide and hungry, tongues flickering over their lips, and wolfish teeth grinning with desire. But this time, as she looked around the room, her eyes suddenly became affixed on a particular face.
When it came to Americans, she was slightly afraid of them, not because she thought they would do her harm, but because she didn’t understand them or their way of thinking. This man was no exception, yet he was looking into her eyes, not at her body, nor at her movements. Irma suddenly felt more naked and exposed than ever before. This man was looking into her soul, into her very inner being, he was seeing her as she was, not as those around her who had made her feel so ashamed. She finished her dance and then made her way to the corner table to rest before she started her turn at waiting tables. Inadvertently, she looked around the room and spotted the man that had been watching her. He was engaged in casual conversation with a man while they played chess; neither of them appeared interested in the women that were dancing or serving them drinks.
Kay looked up at his friend and asked, “Why do you always insist we come here? Every year you drag me out of the hotel, insisting we come to this hole in the wall bar, with its skinny girls and bad beer.”
Sam shook his head and replied, “You don’t drink and you hardly ever notice the women so what are you complaining about?”
“Not complaining, just wondering why you insist on coming here?”
“I like the way the women look, and the beer is good. Besides I keep hoping that one of these years you will decide to loosen up and have some fun.”
“I think there is a medical term for people who keep doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.”
“That would be me. Besides, I think it is starting to work. I saw you eyeing that girl over there sitting at the table.”
Kay looked over at the girl and said, “She is interesting.” “Define interesting?”
“Didn’t you see her when she was dancing?”
“I guess I have been more interested in the game. By the way your queen is in jeopardy.” Kay nodded then moved his knight. Sam looked up at him then said,
“That wasn’t smart.”
“Sometimes smart isn’t always the right answer.”
Sam settled back into the game and concentrated on the board.
“So what makes her so interesting?”
“Well, for one thing, she is taller than the average Filipino woman, she also has a bit more western blood, most likely her father.”
“Probably. The military left a lot of unwanted children over here.”
He moved his pawn to block the knight then asked. “What else?”
“Not much.”
“You were studying her pretty damn close and I doubt if it was because of her western blood.”
Kay moved his king’s bishop across the board and Sam looked up at him with an unspoken question, and then Kay replied, “It’s her eyes.”
“What about them?”
“The party is over for her, has been for a long time. Now she is just going through the motions.”
Sam looked over at the girl and then commented,
“She’s probably just tired.”
“Oh, she is that, but not just tired from tonight, but tired of the whole scene. The woman is one step away from simply giving up on life.”
“You can tell that just by looking into her eyes?”
“It’s not all that hard to see.”
“And what else?”
Kay studied the board then said, “She is a very intelligent girl.”
“Look where we are; there aren’t many unintelligent people on this island. Hell, if you stuck them in a business suit and put them in the middle of Wall Street half of them would be running corporations by night fall.”
“Okay let me put it another way, she is an intelligent and sober girl.”
“If what you say is true, then I would guess that is the case. Nothing like getting laid nine or ten times a night at a couple of bucks a shot to sober you up.”
Sam took Kay’s knight and at the same time placed Kay’s queen in jeopardy again. Once more Kay ignored the threat, and then moved his other knight. Sam finally took the bait and captured Kay’s queen. After that, it was all down hill for Sam as Kay first took Sam’s rook, then his queen and both of his knights. Kay looked at Sam and then commented, “Sometimes in order to get ahead you have to make your self vulnerable, give up something valuable in order to get what you want.
“Sam smiled.” I can see that now!”
Irma’s break was over and she began moving around the bar picking up empty bottles and glasses and taking orders for new drinks. She unconsciously, or perhaps purposely, avoided the American’s table until Mamma San yelled at her and pointed to the table with the chess players, “Go see if they need more drinks!”
Irma walked over to the table, picked up their empty glasses and then asked, “Would you like to order again?” The man who had gotten her attention while she danced said, “I’m drinking Tonic water, my friend will have another beer.” After studying him for a moment she informed him that he would be charged full price for the Tonic water.”
Kay commented, “That’s the price I pay for playing chess in a bar. Bring it anyway.”
She looked at the chessboard and told his friend, “You will lose in three moves.”
Sam looked up at her, then back at the chessboard, reached out and laid his king down. “Maybe you should be playing him?”
The other American observed her for a second and said, “My name is Kay. Do you want to try?”
She shook her head. “I can’t, I have to work.”
His partner stood said, “I can fix that.” He walked over to the bar and talked to the Mamma San for a while then returned to his table. “Now you can play. You have the rest of the night to yourself.”
She looked at the Mamma San as if to ask her approval and the woman nodded.
The pretty woman sat down and introduced herself. “I am Irma.” She began to reset her half of the chessboard and Kay did the same. Irma picked up a pawn, placed it on kings-pawn-four, and said, “You will lose.” Kay looked at her for a few seconds, nodded, then concentrated on the board. Two hours later, he checkmated her. One of the bar girls shouted something in Tagalog and a woman on the other side of the room said, “Bull shit!”
Rushing over to the table, she looked down at the board and said, “That doesn’t happen very often.”
After the board had been reset, Irma turned it around, switching colors. Kay reached out and opened with his king’s-knight’s-pawn to king’s-knight-four.
Irma opened with a standard king’s-pawn to king’s-four. Suddenly the game picked up pace and the pieces were quickly moved around the board, pawns perished, knights lost their lives, bishops and rooks took up position, kings castled, then the game suddenly stopped. Irma saw that she was going to lose, studied the board for a few more minutes, and then found an opening. She realized that the opening was a trap, did the most obvious thing and went for the loss. He moved too quickly and she went for his throat. Suddenly it was his turn to study the board and think things through. Instead of reinforcing his pieces, he let it go loose and she took his queen. He quickly countered with his remaining knight, and pushed her into a corner. Irma moved her rook across the board and placed his king in crossfire. He reached out to move, studied the board and then turned his king down. Irma said, “You had me. Why did you let me get away?”
Kay shook his head. “I made a mistake and it cost me. When playing an adversary such
as you, it is not good to make mistakes.”
After resetting the board, Kay asked, “Would you like to take a break?” She nodded, stood up and stretched. Kay said, “Besides I’m hungry. Lets go see what’s cooking at the barbecue stand. “When she hesitated he said “My treat.”
Irma nodded and followed him out the door. Once outside, Kay inhaled deeply and stretched again.” The air feels good.”
Irma shivered and then replied, “It is cold.”
Kay replied, “It can’t be more than sixty-eight degrees and that is comfortable.”
“For you maybe, but for me this is cold.” He put his arm around her shoulder and asked, “Is that better?”
“Yes; thank you.”
They went to the barbecue stand and ordered pork sticks, and lumpia. Two stands down a man was selling wind breakers. Kay picked out a jacket, paid for it, walked over and placed it gently over Irma’s shoulders. The couple went to a low wall and sat down to eat. Irma looked at the jacket and said, “This is too much.”
Winds of Fate Page 20