Stagecoach Road

by Daniel Kamen

  Benny opened his car door and looked to the ground.

  “Remember you!” Benny said. “They wanted you just as much as I did.”

  Laura walked over to Benny and hugged his neck.

  “I’ll meet you tomorrow at eight,” Laura said, holding back a tear. “At eight.”

  “I’ll be there. You’re a great sales lady! I can’t wait to move in.”

  “Thanks,” Laura said, knowing she made a huge mistake nineteen years earlier. “I’ll bring the contracts with me.”

  “Deal!” Benny said cheerfully. “Until then.”

  Benny kissed her cheek and got in his car. He put the half smoked cigar in his mouth and lit it. It was the best he felt in a long time as he drove back to his office to treat Twila.

  Rings’ suburban was conspicuously parked right in front of Dr. Weinstein’s office at 2:50 p.m. Dr. Weinstein parked a few spaces back and got out of his car, leaving his cigar in the ashtray. Rings was sitting in the driver’s seat. Twila was sprawled out in the back seat.

  “Glad you made it,” Dr. Weinstein said, realizing Rings had to park close to the entrance since his mother could barely walk.

  “Hi ya, Benny!” Twila yelled through the glass.

  Dr. Weinstein knew he had his work cut out for him. Twila must have weighed over 250 lbs and she was in a lot of pain. I wonder how Rings got her into the car, he thought.

  Rings got out and opened the back passenger door.

  “I’ll handle this,” Rings said. “I’ve got a system.”

  Rings unloaded his mother’s wheelchair from the back end of the trailer bed and wheeled it to the passenger’s side.

  “Here, let me help you,” Dr. Weinstein offered, reaching for the chair handles.

  Both men pulled Twila out of the car and placed her on the chair.

  “This doesn’t look new,” Dr. Weinstein said after inspecting the wheelchair. “It looks like your old one.”

  “It is,” Twila said. “I left the new one at home. Don’t want noth’n bad to happen to it.”

  Rings rolled his mother into Dr. Weinstein’s first exam room.

  “Do you think you can stand and go face down on the table?” Dr. Weinstein asked.

  “I don’t know,” Twila said. “Looks kind of narrow. Will it hold?”

  “It’ll hold,” Dr. Weinstein assured. “Here, let me help you.”

  Twila waddled up from the chair, Dr. Weinstein holding one arm and Rings, the other.

  “OW! OH!” Twila shrieked. “Not used to this.”

  Dr. Weinstein slowly lowered his fully clothed large patient into to a horizontal position on his hydraulic table. He didn’t bother taking a case history--just asked her questions as they went along.

  “Any pain here?” Dr. Weinstein asked while firmly palpating her first lumber vertebra.

  “Not more than usual,” Twila said. “But keep trying. That felt goooooooooooood!”

  “How about here?”

  “No. You can press harder if you like.”

  Rings was intently watching as Dr. Weinstein examined his dear ol’ mother.

  Dr. Weinstein knew his next poke would get a much stronger reaction. He warned her.

  “What about….here!” Dr. Weinstein said, pushing on the last lumbar vertebra.

  “WOE! OWWWWW! OWWWWWWW!” Twila screamed. “OWWWWWWWWWW!”

  Rings moved closer to comfort his mother.

  “You OK, ma?”

  Twila started to perspire. Dr. Weinstein found what is known as a ‘hot lumbar’ in chiropractic circles. Possibly an old ruptured disc.

  “That shot right down my bad leg,” Twila stated. “I haven’t been able to feel anything in that leg in years. I think you’re on to something.”

  “Maybe I am,” Dr. Weinstein said. “Possibly.”

  “Just do what you have to do,” Twila said. “Nothing could be worse than sitting in that chair all day--don’t get no exercise. That’s why I’m so damn fat!”

  “Did you ever have your back examined? An MRI or X-ray?”

  “Naw. Had my foot x-rayed once when I twisted my ankle. The state won’t pay for no fancy tests.”

  “All right. Here, Rings--you’re going to help me. Twila, we’re going to put you on your side--your bad side up. Bo is going to steady you and I’m going to push on your pelvis--okay?”

  “Fine, just do it,” she said. “Anything is fine. I’m grateful for anything.”

  Twila was laying on her left side, right side up, her huge butt in the air. Man, if I can this to move, Benny thought, I could adjust a horse! Benny thought about that. I shouldn’t even think that--it isn’t nice.

  Twila’s butt was chest high to Dr. Weinstein--too high to get any leverage for a lumbar roll. So Dr. Weinstein pulled a hard back chair next to the table and stood on it.

  “You’re not going to jump on me, are you?” Twila asked, not knowing what to expect.

  “No, I’m not going to jump on you. I’m just worried about falling!”

  While Rings steadied his mother’s shoulders from the back, Dr. Weinstein placed his left hand on the side of her pelvis, and his right hand in front of her right shoulder. He then pulled Twila’s pelvis towards himself, and pushed her right shoulder back like a giant pretzel. Then with full force and great speed, he lunged off the chair, popping her spine. WHAM!

  “OWWWWWWW! OWWWWWWWWWWWW!” Twila screamed, falling off the table. Dr. Weinstein fell next to her, hoping he didn’t break anything of his own.

  “Are you all right? Are you all right?” Dr. Weinstein asked, worried about his old friend.

  “I don’t know,” she said, breathing heavily on the floor like a wounded moose. “My leg is burning.”

  Dr. Weinstein and Rings watched in amazement as Twila picked herself off the ground and danced around on that leg, shaking it awake. Both Dr. Weinstein and Rings followed her out the door and into the hallway. She was dancing!

  “Look at you ma!” Rings said, jumping for joy. “Look at YOU!”

  Twila didn’t even know she was dancing. It was just a reflex.

  “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it,” Twila exclaimed. “I haven’t walked this far so fast on my own power in ten years. Doctor--it’s a miracle!”

  Dr. Weinstein was happy with the outcome, but cautioned her it could only be temporary.

  “Let’s get you home so you can rest,” Dr. Weinstein said. “I’ll call you in a few days and see how you’re getting along. Now maybe you can get some exercise and sell that new wheelchair of yours!”

  Rings liked that idea. He could use the money for something else--maybe college.

  “Sox, how long did you have to go to school to do this,” Rings asked, his interest piqued.

  “Eight years total. But you can do it too. They’ve got loans, you know!”

  Twila got back in the suburban on her own power. Rings put her wheelchair in the back.

  “Bye, Benny!” Twila shouted from the car. “Thank you!”

  Dr. Weinstein watched as his friends drove away.

  “If you’re watching, Eddy. This one was for you.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Friday, May 29th, 1992, twelve noon. The rain was coming down in buckets. Dr. Weinstein just finished up his backlog of patients from the day before. Tracey was taking an extended lunch--Mitzie needed a new prescription for worms. Man, of all days to pour, Dr. Weinstein thought while reading the Post Tribune on his desk, thunder and lightning booming outside. Let’s see here. Dr. Weinstein read the forecast for the rest of the day. A ray of hope. The paper said the rain should stop later in the evening. That could be any time, maybe even tomorrow. Dr. Weinstein thought he’d wait out the worst of the storm in his office--do some pleasure reading for a change--maybe look at other sections besides the headlines. He scanned the other sections. His eyes widened. This is interesting! Yeah, I’d like to stop by--maybe Laura would like to crash that party with me for few minutes tonight--should be good.

  Dr. Wei
nstein couldn’t wait any longer. He put on his spring jacket, covered his head with the newspaper and ran to his car. He stopped at the drugstore across the street and called Rings. The overhead awning was barely wide enough to keep him dry as the thunder got louder.

  “OH, HI J.J.,” Benny said loudly, recognizing the older voice on the line. “IT’S SOX. WHAT’S THE GOOD WORD?”

  “Hey, son,” J.J. said. “Why are you yelling? My ears aren’t that bad.”

  “It’s thundering. Speak up. I can hardly hear you.”

  “You outside?” J.J. asked. “If you are, get your butt inside.”

  “I will in a minute,” Benny said, speaking softer after the rumble faded.

  “I heard you’ve been keeping real busy lately,” J.J. said. “Rings told me all about it. Now, stay out of trouble, you here?” J.J. said, coughing up some phlegm into his handkerchief. “What can I do for you? Need more stuff? You know your next order is on me.”

  “Ha, ha,” Benny chuckled. “No more stuff for me--at least for a while. But thanks. I’d like to ask Rings something if he’s there.”

  “He’s here,” J.J. said. “And I’m working him to death. You never know when someone will call and want to take him somewhere.”

  Benny didn’t know how J.J. felt about the friendship he had with his young nephew until that moment. It could be J.J. figured his days were numbered and wanted someone to look after Rings.

  “In fact, I was going to invite Rings out tonight. Is that okay? It won’t be until seven this evening.”

  J.J. thought about that for second.

  “Well, I suppose it’ll be all right. You know, that time of night we get busy. But a place like this is no place for a young man. I like seeing him have some fun for a change. He thinks the world of you.”

  “I like him too, J.J. I won’t keep him out too long. I want him to meet on old girlfriend of mine.”

  “Oh, he’d like that,” J.J. said. “I’ll put him on.”

  “Hey Rings. Sox. You free tonight?”

  “Could be. What’s you got in mind?” Rings asked, looking for J.J.’s approval.

  “One of my old girlfriends invited me to a bar called the Brass Bomber in Portage to listen to a live band. Her daughter’s going to be there--she’s something else--patient of mine.”

  “You gonna hook me up with her?”

  “Naw, she’s married--a flirt, but married. Her name is Gail. She and her mother are driving down together and I thought you might want to keep her occupied for me.”

  “Oh, second banana!” Rings jokingly said. “Sure, I’ll come. It’s on Route 12, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll pick you up at the shop at six-thirty. I got a new gun. A patient gave it to me. Got any spare bullets?”

  “Bullets?” Rings said. “Yeah, we got bullets up the ass. You plan on using some tonight?”

  “No, I just don’t want to go to a store and buy any. People could be looking.”

  “Okay,” Rings said. “I’ll be watching for you.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Friday evening, May 29th, 1992. Benny brushed his teeth at his office and changed his clothes. He left for J.J.’s at 6:00 p.m. The rain had died down some, but it was drizzling enough to make any outdoor activity uncomfortable. He pulled up to the shop by 6:30 p.m. and parked behind the store, next to Rings’ suburban. He knocked on the back door.

  “Hey Sox, come in,” Rings said. “You’ve got to see something.”

  Benny followed Rings to a side room off the storage area.

  “What’s that noise?” Benny asked. “It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  Rings opened up the room. “Look!”

  Benny’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe it! That’s wonderful!”

  It was Twila. She was walking on a used treadmill someone had pawned the year before and never claimed.

  “J.J. paid someone cash for a treadmill?” Benny asked. “I’m really surprised.”

  Rings laughed. “Not too much. I think he gave the poor soul twenty bucks. It’s been a coat hanger for so long. I’m glad it’s finally getting some use. Look at momma!”

  Twila was out of breath as she waved to Benny from the exerciser.

  “Hey Benny,” Twila exuberantly said. “My back is feeling better. Look, I’m walking!”

  “Good! Glad to see that,” Benny said. “Come see me again next week for another adjustment.”

  Rings escorted Benny behind some boxes.

  “We keep our bullets in here,” Rings said, opening up a large case. “What kind do you need?”

  “Not sure about my new gun,” Benny said. “It’s in the car. I’ll go get it.”

  Benny brought back both guns. Rings got J.J. to look at them.

  “Nice piece,” J.J. said, referring to old gun. “Where did you get this?”

  “A patient gave it to me. Is it worth anything?”

  J.J. inspected the gun for a minute and looked down the barrel.

  “I’m not exactly sure how much, but this is an 1894 Colt Bisley Single Action Revolver. I haven’t seen one of these in thirty years. How much do you want for it?”

  “It’s yours!” Benny said, sensing the old man really wanted it. “Keep it. A small token of my appreciation for all you’ve done for me.”

  “No, I can’t accept this for free,” J.J. said. “It’s worth at least five hundred--could be more.”

  “Please,” Benny said. “I want you to have it. That thing is old--I’ll probably kill myself with it. But I will take some bullets for this gun.”

  J.J. gladly handed Benny three boxes of bullets for his Colt .45.

  “Here’s enough to last you at least a month,” J.J. chortled.

  Benny took the ammo. Rings put on his public enemy hat and followed Benny to his car.

  “Do you have to wear that thing?” Benny asked.

  “You’re wearing your Sox cap,” Rings noticed. “The ladies like me in this hat.”

  Benny and Rings set out for the Brass Bomber at 7:15 p.m., each driving their own vehicle.

  “Got your ID?” Benny asked.

  Rings patted his wallet showing Benny he had. “And a few bucks. Drinks are on me.”

  “I don’t plan on doing any drinking,” Benny said. “The last thing I need is to be pulled over and have the cops smell booze on my breath. In fact, I don’t want to stay too long--not my kind of scene.”

  They pulled into Bomber’s parking lot at five minutes to eight. It had stopped raining. Gail and her mom were already there--waiting in Laura’s Mercedes. They both looked great. Benny and Rings got out of their cars and walked towards the luxury car. The ladies got out.

  “You look sensational! Like movie stars,” Benny said. “Both of you are just stunning--like you’re going to the Academy Awards. Man, am I underdressed!”

  Both Gail and Laura were wearing knee length skirts and low cut blouses--different colors, but similar styles. And they both smelled great.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” Gail said, winking at Benny. “Who’s your friend?”

  Benny motioned Rings to come closer.

  “This is my good friend, Rings,” Benny said.

  “Rings!” Gail said, eyeing the young man up and down. “I like that name. Do you have a last name?

  Benny glanced at Rings for a second--Rings glanced back.

  “Moss,” Rings said. “But my real first name is Bo. All my friends call me Rings.”

  “Well all right,” Gail seductively said in her rehearsed Southern accent. “Rings it is!”

  Laura smiled at Benny as Gail escorted Rings into the bar.

  “Don’t worry,” Benny said. “Your daughter will be okay with Rings. He’s a nice guy.”

  “But will Rings be okay?” Laura joked. “I worry about that girl. She flirts with everyone.”

  Benny took Laura by the arm and sat down on the wooden bench at the end of the parking lot.

  “You mean she doesn’t just
flirt with me?” Benny laughed.

  “Sorry to disappoint you--but no!” Gail sarcastically replied. “I don’t know why she got married--isn’t going to last, you know. She reminds me so much of her father.”

  Laura put her hand over her mouth, just realizing what she had said.

  “Sorry, Benny. I didn’t…….”

  “Oh, that’s all right. I understand. Believe me I do,” Benny said as his eyes wandered off to the distance and saw the apartment building where Laura lost her virginity that night with Larry. Laura stared at the complex too and suddenly felt uneasy. She knew Benny knew.

  “Let’s go in,” Laura said. “We’ll have a few drinks and talk over old times. Whadda ya say!”

  Laura took Benny’s arm and they walked into the noisy establishment. Gail’s husband, Ricky, was busy setting up the instruments and sound system for the evening’s performance. Gail was at the bar talking to some guy, probably one of her husband’s friends. Rings was doing pretty good himself. He struck up a conversation with one of Ricky’s groupies, an attractive blond girl in tight jeans, and bought her a drink. The blond was giggling and already put Rings’ hat on her head.

  “Let’s sit here,” Laura said, pointing to a booth. “It’s quieter.”

  A perky waitress came by to take their order.

  “I’m buying,” Benny said. “Please!”

  “Okay,” Laura agreed. “But I’m not a cheap date!”

  “No problem. Order anything you like.”

  Laura ordered a fried shrimp for her appetizer and a sirloin steak with mashed potatoes for dinner--and a grasshopper cocktail. Benny ordered grilled salmon and diet coke.

  “How do you keep such a great figure?” Benny asked.

  “I work out--at lot!” said Laura. “Apparently you do too!”

  “I do indeed--but you look better than I do.”

  They didn’t care that it took the waitress ten minutes to bring their drinks, or forty minutes for their food. They were having the best time catching up.

  “I was on my own when Gail was born,” Laura sadly recalled. “Larry dumped me right away. He just used me--a few calls after the birth, but nothing else.”

  “Not even child support?”

  “Some, not much. But he did spend some time with Gail when she got a little older--in between traveling and gigs--when he could find them.”