One Way Roads

by Erik Foge

  I cut in. “The Bulldogs and the Bisons.”

  Erik mouthed thank you. “The Bulldogs and the Bisons apparently … I don’t know the score …” Erik scanned the stadium, and his gaze settled on the scoreboard. “The Bulldogs are winning thirty-four to twenty-one. Gary, I really need to go … I’ll talk to you later … Bye.” Erik hung up.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “A friend.”

  He was vague, so I wanted to know more. “What’s happening in Germany?”

  “He was asking if I knew about the possible strike at Volkswagen.”

  I never took him for a news junkie, but I tried to get him to open up. “I drive a Passat. I never heard about the strike.”

  “I drive a Phaeton, and it’s nothing important.”

  At the refreshment stand, when we reached the counter, I recognized the guy from behind the counter from one of my classes. I ordered. Erik seemed relaxed, though preoccupied.

  “Who is this?” the guy asked, looking at Erik, as he handed over our drinks.

  “My boyfriend,” I said before Erik had a chance to introduce himself.

  Erik swung towards me with a frown of confusion. I rubbed his arm to relax him.

  “That’s cool. I heard a lot about you from Jamie. That’ll be seven dollars.”

  “Here you go.” Erik pulled out his wallet and handed over the money. “Your boyfriend?” Erik said as soon as we stepped away, staring at me with his intense blue eyes.

  I nodded. “Is that okay?” I paused, waiting for his reaction, not sure if I’d gone too far. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t; I just would’ve liked a little warning.”

  I let off a huge sigh.

  People returned to their seats for the second half, and in the middle of a conversation, I suddenly saw a camera view of both of us on the Jumbotron. I yanked on Erik’s sleeve and pointed to the screen. It went black, then filled with bright, bold-yellow letters, ERIK AND JAMIE FOREVER. I turned Erik’s head to face me and kissed him with all the passion I’d accumulated over the two years since I’d met him. He was as helpless as a fish out of the water, but he didn’t take long to respond, and his kiss stimulated me beyond words. It was everything I’d dreamed and more.

  After the game, we met up outside and I asked him to go to Pizza Milano with me.

  “Jamie, do you really think this is a good idea, for me to go with you?” he asked with that cute frown of his. He seemed scared, but maybe it was a lack of confidence.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. You’re with me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they said on the Titanic on the 15th of April.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He stared at me and took a deep sigh, “Jamie, I’m older than you, a lot older. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Do you remember that I wanted to date you two years ago?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I’m older now, and I really want to get to know you. I’ve been waiting two years for you to come into my life again, and I don’t care what others think, okay?”

  “Okay. I believe you. I just never thought it would happen.”

  “Us meeting again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Remember when we first met I told you I believed in soul mates?”

  Erik nodded again.

  “Well, you’re my soul mate.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, then we walked hand-in-hand to his car. Erik opened my door for me and closed it behind me, then walked around and slid into the driver’s seat.

  The moment he got in, I reached over and kissed him on the cheek. He turned his head, and I noticed him biting his lower lip, but I was just as nervous. “Where’s the pizza place?” he asked.

  “L Street Northwest.”

  He pressed a button on the ceiling and a deep commanding voice said, “This is the major.”

  “Yeah … uhh … this is Dr. Függer,” he said, sounding a little tongue tied. I thought it funny, yet cute.

  “Identification,” the voice in the speaker said.

  Erik flushed and almost winced.

  “Your identification,” the voice asked again.

  “The Saint, department four-six-three,” Erik replied.

  I winked and blew Erik kisses to see if he would stumble on his words, while he tried to keep his composure.

  “Are you on a company line?” the voice asked—a weird question for OnStar.

  “No, I’m in my car. I need directions to Pizza Milano.”

  “Is that On-Star?” I whispered.

  Erik placed a finger over his lips. The voice gave detailed directions from our location to Pizza Milano, and Erik wrote them down while I freshened up my makeup.

  “There’s a local speed trap on New Hampshire Avenue Northwest,” the major said. “So watch your speed, Saint.”

  “Thank you, major.”

  “Major zero-out.”

  Erik started his car, backed up, raced out of the parking lot, and headed to the restaurant. I rested my head on his shoulder.

  “My mom’s car has On-Star, too.”

  “Uh huh,” Erik said like he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “You know, how you got the directions.”

  “Oh yeah.” He never looked away from the road, acting as if being asked for identification was completely normal.

  “Well, I never heard her On-Star operator ask for her identification,” I probed.

  “This one’s for government employees.”

  I had a feeling that was only half the answer. “That’s cool. But why does he call himself the major and you call yourself the Saint?”

  “I can’t answer for him, but as for me, that’s my nickname.” Then Erik’s tone turned defensive. “Jamie, I really don’t want to talk about work, please. I’m here to spend my time with you like I promised.”

  I felt he was hiding something, but I could tell he was being honest with me, at least so far as not wanting to talk about work. “I’m just trying to make conversation,” I said.

  “I know, but I don’t like talking about work when I’m off.”

  “Are you putting up your wall like the first time we met?”

  Erik shook his head, and I stared out the window, wondering what my life would be like with him. A smile came over my face. Erik focused on the road but occasionally glanced at me. I didn’t want the night to end. His cell phone suddenly went off. Erik glanced at the caller ID, turned off the ringer and tossed the phone to the floor.

  “Don’t you need to get that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is it work?” I thought it odd, but maybe something had changed since the last time we met.

  “Yes.” Erik sounded disgusted.

  “Alan?”

  Erik shook his head and focused on the road again.

  “Do you think it’s something important?”

  “It normally is, but not more important than me spending time with you.”

  That shocked me—that he thought I was more important. “Really?”

  “Yes. I want to get know you better. Oh look, there’s the speed trap.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re right! My mom’s On-Star doesn’t give warnings about speed traps.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Erik pulled into a parking space on the street, which was filled with cars. People from my college were streaming into the entrance. Erik got out, strolled around the car, and opened my door for me, like a true gentleman, and we walked into the noisy restaurant holding hands. Our basketball team and my squad sat in their usual section of the restaurant and turned to stare when we walked in. The way they tilted their heads and whispered I knew they were talking about us. Erik and I found a table in the corner, then Erik excused himself and walked off, said he’d order. I could honestly say I was beginning to fall in love with him.

  Keith, a guy that had wanted to date me ever since high school, walked toward me. I turned away, feel
ing uneasy. The big asshole thought he was God’s gift to women and always had to prove something.

  “Hi, Jamie.”

  I sighed and looked up. Keith—tall blonde, medium-built, and sloppily dressed—hovered over me with his muscular arms crossed against his chest. He scowled down at me with angry brown eyes, then pulled up a chair and sat so close to me that I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He placed his hand on my upper thigh and started to stroke. I grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

  “Don’t take liberties,” I said tersely, then I scanned the room, looking for Erik and hoping he would show up soon.

  “Who’s that guy with you?” Keith asked.

  “That’s none of your business.” I tried to sound strong, but the hairs on my neck stood up. The other basketball players were watching, and some stood up. I figured they could see the tension between Keith and me.

  “Oh, I think it is my business. Who is he?” Keith plonked his paws back on my thigh and started caressing me.

  “Keith, stop it!” I shoved his hands away and imbued the words with all the force I could muster, but he ignored me and put them straight back again.

  Suddenly, Erik appeared behind Keith. I smiled. There was hope after all. Keith looked around and immediately jumped up and faced Erik. I gulped, noticing that Keith was taller and possibly stronger then Erik.

  “Who in the hell are you?” Keith demanded. I winced at the arrogance in his voice. He paused and tilted his head, appraising Erik, “You look vaguely familiar.”

  I tried to reply. “He’s…”

  “I didn’t ask you, bitch,” Keith snapped. Then he poked at Erik’s chest with two fingers. “Answer me, asshole.” His eyes suddenly brightened. “I remember you.”

  “You still haven’t learned,” Erik replied calmly. “I warned you when I first met you. Now show her some respect.”

  “Fuck you.” Keith kept poking Erik.

  “No thanks, you’re not my type, or did you forget that, too?”

  The basketball team and my squad slowly inched their way toward us, the girls giggling.

  “You are really beginning to piss me off,” Keith growled.

  “Good, then I’m doing my job,” Erik replied, still cool and calm. “I’m asking you to apologize to Jamie and stop poking me.”

  “Oh, am I hurting you?” Keith mocked, and the other basketball players chuckled. “I don’t need to apologize to you or anyone when I’m about to kick your ass.” Keith continued to poke Erik.

  I had the horrible feeling that Erik wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight against Keith. I wished he had walked away before he got hurt, but Erik was taunting Keith as if he wanted a fight. I wanted to do something but I couldn’t move, let alone think what to say.

  “Since you haven’t changed. I guess you just have to prove how big of an asshole you can be in front of all your peers, hmmm?”

  Keith’s face turned, his eyes filled with rage, and he balled up his fists, then knocked Erik’s fedora off his head. The basketball players and cheerleaders laughed. Yet Erik didn’t do anything. I wished he would just walk away now.

  “Well, I’m the asshole in your face,” Keith snapped.

  Then in a flash, without batting an eyelash, Erik grabbed the two fingers Keith was poking him with and pulled them back. The expression in Keith’s eyes changed from rage to horror to extreme pain. Erik forced Keith to his knees, while everyone, including myself, looked on in disbelief. Then Erik leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, showing no sign of mercy.

  “Since you’re a slow learner, I’m going to help you out. I’m going to teach you manners in four quick lessons. Ready to start learning?” Erik said in a sinister tone.

  “Kiss my ass,” Keith muttered between his gritted teeth.

  “Now, that’s a negative attitude,” Erik mocked. He continued to pull Keith’s fingers back, and Keith’s face contorted into a grotesque mask. “I said, ready to learn?” Erik said coldly.

  “You’re going to break my fingers!” Keith whimpered in a strangled voice.

  But Erik didn’t stop. “I’m glad you paid attention in anatomy class,” he said sarcastically, “but we’re not learning anatomy. Lesson one: if a lady tells you not to touch her, you listen and stop. Do you understand?” Keith’s jaw had gone rigid from fighting the pain, but Erik pulled his fingers back further. “Do you?”

  Keith nodded.

  “Good. Lesson two: Never! And I do mean never call Jamie a bitch or anything else. Now say you’re sorry to her. Clear?”

  Keith nodded again. His eyes were watering.

  “I didn’t hear you say it.” Erik’s voice became even more intimidating, and his eyes grew more intense. “Say it now!”

  Keith turned his head to face me and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Then he turned back to Erik.

  Erik’s eyes narrowed. “You’re learning fast, but we’re not done yet. Two more lessons to go. Lesson three is to respect people’s property. Now pick up my fedora and put it on the table.”

  Keith tried to get a few words out but failed.

  It appeared Erik could read Keith’s lips. “You’re not about to disagree with me, are you?” Once again he pulled Keith’s fingers back. I heard his knuckles pop. Then Erik jerked his head toward the hat and let one hand go. Keith reached out with his free hand, picked up Erik’s hat, and placed it on the table.

  Erik’s free hand flashed out and grabbed Keith’s fingers again before he could do anything else. “Now the final lesson: respect your elders. Is that one clear?”

  “Fuck you,” Keith growled in one last act of defiance.

  Erik gritted his teeth. “No. Fuck you,” he whispered, “and next time you touch her they won’t be able to identify you with dental records!” Without hesitation, Erik pulled Keith’s fingers back so far that they snapped. Keith’s eyes widened with horror and moistened with tears, as he cupped his hand and pressed his lips tight, apparently stifling a scream. Then as quickly as he’d grabbed Keith’s fingers, Erik released them, and Keith rose slowly and, somewhat unsteadily, made for the door, his face livid. The team and squad, looking almost as horror-struck, turned and walked back to their table without a word. Erik glanced back at me, then held out his hand and pulled me close.

  “Are you okay?” Erik asked in a soft tone.

  I nodded, still in disbelief at what had just happened. I wrapped my arms around Erik and squeezed him tight. “Thank you, babe,” I said and placed my head on his chest.

  “You’re very welcome.”

  The server brought our food and placed it on the table. Erik motioned that our order would be to go and paid the server.

  While we waited for him to return with it in a take-out container, I had to ask: “Erik, where did you learn to fight?”

  “On a farm.”

  “A farm?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, so you were born on a farm?” I never would’ve figured Erik was a country boy.

  “No, I was born in New Jersey.”

  Now he had me confused. “But you said you learned how to fight on a farm.”

  “I did. I mean I visited a farm once … in Virginia.”

  8. A DESCENT INTO HELL

  “If you are going to go through hell, keep going.”

  — Winston Churchill`

  Somewhere in France

  “Are you serious that you regret bringing up this topic?” Rommel asked as the car bumped along a battered road.

  “Absolutely,” Erik said, as he nodded.

  “But this car that Porsche is planning on designing sounds amazing. I’d love to know more about it.”

  Erik took a deep breath and sighed. “Isn’t there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “What’s your opinion of Adolf Hitler?”

  “In the beginning, I had a great respect for the Führer for his tactical mind and his ability to adapt and survive in the political turmoil of post-war Germany. He brough
t a sense of national unity to Germany, whether you agreed with his methods or not.” He pointed at Erik to emphasize. “He brought order from chaos.” Erik tried to get a word in but Rommel continued. “But, of course, this was not meant to last. The man’s ego and extreme distrust of his fellow man, coupled with his severe overreach later in the war, revealed his weaknesses and a tendency toward instability.”

  Erik nodded and absorbed everything he heard. “When did you think the war was lost?”

  Rommel sighed and looked suddenly gloomy. “As I watched German defenses begin to crumble.”

  “Stalingrad? El Alamein?”

  Rommel nodded and added, “Also in the weeks that followed the Allied invasion of Normandy. It became clear to me that our situation was in peril. The sheer volume and tenacity of Allied troops, coupled with our tactical overreach on so many fronts, had left so many in doubt.”

  “Did this make you lose faith in Hitler?”

  “It did indeed. This doubt ate away at our morale and confidence in the Führer and reduced us to a fractured people once again. The Führer increasingly withdrew inside himself and was less and less responsive to the suggestions of his general staff.”

  Erik adjusted himself in his seat. “In your opinion, who’s a better general, Montgomery or Patton?”

  Rommel rubbed his chin, pondering. “Both men are excellent leaders and fierce competitors. However, I found General Patton to be the better of these two men in combat. This is simply because his eccentricities combined with his dogged tendencies made him an almost feverishly dedicated adversary.”

  “Would you agree he was unpredictable?”

  “No, not entirely unpredictable. He was nonetheless tireless in his pursuit of victory and personal glory.”

  “What are you going to do after the war if we succeed?”

  “First and foremost, I’m a soldier. If I survive this conflict, I’ll dedicate myself to rebuilding my country and restoring it to a place of respect in the world. Germany will decide how best I can serve this purpose. A true warrior seeks peace above conflict, and it is this very peace I seek for our people in the end. I will also spend time with my family, which they rightfully deserve.”