Travis smiled. “I wouldn’t say all that.”
Tory looked him up and down. “Glad you could make it. These are my friends Melissa and Jackie.” Both the young women waved at Travis. They, like Tory, looked as if they were barely out of high school.
Tory stood. “Come on, let’s go get you some skates so we can get on the floor.” She tugged at Travis’s arm. She rolled on her skates and he walked his way through the crowd.
After he had his skates securely tied, Tory then pulled him out onto the packed roller rink floor. He had to dodge a couple of people to keep from getting hit. Tory released his hand and zoomed ahead of him. With more effort than he had ever remembered in past years of skating, Travis did his best to lift his legs with the skates that felt like they’d been plated with lead. It felt as if he had only gone a couple of feet before Tory rolled back by his side.
“T.J., are you okay out here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Travis yelled over the thumping R&B music. “It’s just been awhile since I’ve been on roller skates, that’s all.”
“I see,” Tory yelled over the music and the sound of people skating past them.
When they rounded a curve, Travis made an effort to pick up speed, and found that he could go a lot faster than the creeping pace he’d started at. He was pretty pleased with himself, and Tory smiled as she slowed down to keep pace with him.
He thought about the days when he was a teenager and went to the skating rink with his friends on the weekends. Back then, he skated forward, backward, not only standing high but also squatting down. All of his maneuvers were effortless back then.
When Travis got to the next curve in the rink, he found he was moving too fast. He wasn’t going to make the turn in the curve in time. He tried to stop himself with the foot stopper on his skates and ended up flying headlong into the wall. He’d narrowly missed hitting a couple who were holding hands as they skated around the rink.
For a couple of seconds, Travis could have sworn he saw stars. He saw concern in Tory’s face when she reached him. She and the guy from the couple who were holding hands helped him stand.
“T.J. Are you all right?” Her face was still wrought with concern.
Travis took a deep breath. His head and shoulder hurt immensely. The DJ had stopped the music, and one of the workers came over to ask if he was okay. It felt as if every eye in the place was on him.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Travis brushed his clothes off as if removing imaginary dirt. He was embarrassed to say the least. Not only had Tory watched him crash into the wall, so had many others. And now it looked like he was some idiot who didn’t know how to skate.
He whispered to Tory, “I’m going to head to the bathroom for a minute.”
“Okay, do you want me to skate with you over there?”
“Nah, I got this.”
Since no one was skating, waiting to see how hurt he was, Travis took the opportunity to skate in the opposite direction from where he had originally been going. The bathroom was in that direction. He hoped getting to the bathroom would make him out of sight, thus out of mind and focus for the crowd of onlookers.
With his head held high Travis skated on toward the restroom. His pace was faster than it had been when he first started out on the rink floor, but not nearly as fast as it had been just before he flew into the wall.
Once he passed through the doors of the bathroom, he was pleased to hear the music resume, and was also glad that the bathroom was empty. He looked at the top of his head in the mirror to see if a lump had formed. And, sure enough, he saw a raised, reddish-looking area where he’d had the most impact with the wall.
He rubbed the spot and it was extremely tender to the touch. He knew he’d probably have a doozie of a headache in the morning when he got up. He also touched his right shoulder with his left hand. It too was tender to the touch.
Another guy entered the bathroom and made eye contact with Travis. Travis acknowledged the guy with a head nod and the guy did the same. That was the extent of it. The guy commenced to handle his business, and Travis went about his own business before leaving the restroom. He wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed. A couple of songs had played and he figured Tory was probably wondering where he was. He held his now throbbing head up high and set out to see where Tory was.
Again, he found her sitting in the snack bar area. As soon as Tory saw him she skated up to him. “Oh my goodness, T.J. Are you okay? Come on, have a seat.”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Travis said.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” one of Tory’s friends asked. “You hit that wall pretty daggone hard. I saw the whole thing.” The woman cringed as she spoke.
“Yeah,” said the other friend. “Your head has got to have a crack in it, to say the least.”
Women were so nurturing. Travis thought about the contrast between them and how the guy in the restroom acted. The guy hadn’t said a word to him to see how he was or wasn’t doing, and all three of these women were trying to play doctor. He smiled back at them. “Ladies, I assure you I am fine.”
The desire to roller skate or to socialize was no longer felt by him. All he wanted to do was to get back to the house and take some pain medication. His head throbbed more and his body was already starting to become sore.
He turned to Tory. “Hey, I think I’m going to just call it a night.”
Looking at him with concern, Tory stood. “Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to see you home?”
“No, no,” Travis said. He didn’t have any desire to explain why he was riding the bus and didn’t have a car. He glanced at his watch. There was more than enough time to catch a bus and get home.
“Are you sure?” Tory frowned.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry or frown like that.” He put his hand on her cheek. “That frowning does not become you.”
Tory smiled. She went to reach for her purse. “It’s no problem. I can hang out with these chicks anytime.”
“No, no. I’ll be fine. I’ll send you a text when I get home to let you know I am okay,” Travis said, then left the rink and headed home.
As soon as Travis got home he headed for the medicine cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of 600-mg ibuprofen and took one. He then took a long, hot shower. After drying off and putting the towel around his midsection and bottom, he headed toward his bedroom. He put on some underwear and a T-shirt.
Upon looking at the clothing that he had flung on his bed earlier, he dreaded having to move it. So he decided to sleep on the recliner in the bonus room. But when he passed Brent’s bedroom and looked at the inviting king-sized bed, he figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to sleep in there for the night; after all, this was his home for now.
Chapter 6
Travis’s eyes fluttered open as a bright light shined in his face. When he looked over to see the source of the light, he saw that it was a beam of light from the sun coming in through the curtains. He shifted his head slightly. For a few moments he didn’t know where he was. As he continued to try to turn his body away from the light, thoughts of the night before flooded his memory.
He let out a groan from the pain he felt in his shoulders and in his head. His legs and backside also felt sore. “This is not going to work,” Travis gruffly whispered to himself.
Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was already after ten o’clock in the morning. His stomach grumbled. With reluctance he pulled the covers off and stiffly made his way down to the kitchen to grab something to eat. He scrambled eggs, made some grits, and warmed some pieces of cold cut ham. It was the closest breakfast he could make that even remotely resembled a down-home Southern breakfast.
After eating he took another 600-mg ibuprofen. Within the hour his headache subsided and his limbs didn’t feel as sore. He cringed as he thought about his fumbling attempts to skate around the skating rink. And although he hadn’t really fallen on his legs, they were still tense. Plain and simple, Tr
avis knew he was out of shape. All those days of eating quick-processed, high-carbohydrate, high-sodium, and high-fat foods while sitting in front of the television had finally caught up with him. How did he actually expect to attract many women with the spare tire he’d acquired around his waist and the flab on his arms?
In his guestroom he riffled through the clothing on the bed and found a pair of shorts and a wife-beater T-shirt. He pulled on a pair of socks and his sneakers, then headed to the home gym in Brent’s bonus room. He wasn’t going to let his sore limbs get the best of him.
He started with the exercise bike to get his blood flowing, then moved on to the free weights and did repetitions that worked many of his muscle groups, especially his biceps, triceps, and his deltoid muscles. He also worked his abdominal muscles by doing diagonal chops, crunches, and standing oblique twists. When he was done with all the other exercises, he jumped rope and finished the workout by doing fifty pushups. Afterward he drank what seemed like a gallon of water, and took a shower to wash off all of the sweat that had been pouring from his pores.
Travis was truly pleased with his accomplishment. If he could get some minutes in each day doing various exercises, then he’d have his lean body back within a few months. When he moved his arms now there was still some tenderness, but he could take it. After working out a few more days, he knew, all the tenderness would go away anyway. He just needed to stay in the swing of things.
By the time he finished showering, it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. Travis was exhausted. He headed to the kitchen and turned on the radio on the TV/DVD/radio combination Brent had affixed to the bottom of his cabinets. In the kitchen he fixed himself a turkey and cheese sandwich with mustard instead of mayonnaise, to cut down on the fat content of the food, and opted to drink some water instead of his grape Kool-Aid. He was going to be serious about getting back into shape.
He bopped his head back and forth with a tune that had just finished playing on the radio. Then he listened to the DJ on Foxy 107 as he told listeners to be listening out for the song “The Moment” by the music artist Sonnette. When the song played it would indicate they were looking for the seventh caller to win tickets to see Sonnette. Sonnette was one of the newest and hottest acts rising on the R&B charts. Travis liked all kinds of music, especially gospel and R&B. He wasn’t really into rap that much since nowadays it seemed as if the rappers weren’t like they were in the days of his youth. It seemed like the rap he’d heard lately on the radio was just jumbled words with a fair enough beat, but nothing too memorable.
Travis commenced sitting at the bar in the kitchen to eat his late lunch. His stomach and bladder both seemed to fill at the same time due to all the water he’d been drinking. He ascended the stairs to use the bathroom. When he returned to the kitchen to clean up his dishes, he heard Sonnette’s song playing. He quickly patted his pants for his cell phone, but it wasn’t there. He remembered it was upstairs in his bedroom.
He took the stairs two at a time to get to his phone. Then he punched the speed dial for the radio station. As he returned to the kitchen he heard the radio announcer stating that he had the seventh caller, and a guy with a deep baritone voice conversed with the DJ, trying to find out if he was the winning caller. The DJ bantered back and forth with the guy and finally told him that he was the seventh caller. The man yelled into the phone in disbelief, stating that he’d been wanting to take his wife to the concert but the tickets had been sold out for weeks. He thanked the DJ, who told him to hold on the line so that he could get the rest of the man’s information.
Travis shook his head, hoping they would give away some more tickets for the show. The next time he went to the bathroom, he was going to have to turn the radio up so that he could hear what songs were playing. If he could score tickets to the concert then he could ask Tory if she wanted to go. He’d just have to work out the logistics on how to get to the concert.
His cell phone rang as soon as he set it down. After looking at the caller ID and feeling pretty assured that it wasn’t Beryl calling, he answered the call. It was the manager of a local restaurant called Fries and More, which was a fast-food establishment. Travis told the manager he could be at work bright and early the next morning.
After hanging up, he felt like he was back on a roll again. All the work he had done putting in applications during his visit to the library was finally paying off for him. Once again he would be gainfully employed, which was a good thing because his unemployment checks were about to run out soon.
That next morning Travis awoke again in Brent’s bed. Similar to the morning before, getting up had been a struggle, one because he was still tired, and also because his body was now doubly sore. He figured it was a combination of the fall he took at the skating rink and all the exercise he’d done the day before. He realized he must have overdone it.
Moving with the speed of an eighty-five-year-old man, Travis painfully took his shower, got dressed, and trudged his way to the bus stop. Every step and movement hurt his body. It hurt to walk, it hurt to move his arms, and at times it even hurt to breathe. And when he sat down on the seat of the bus, even his backside hurt and he dreaded having to get back up later and continue his painful walk to the restaurant.
For a fraction of a second he contemplated just saying the heck with it all and going back to the house. But he had no idea when someone else might offer him another job, so he continued on to the Fries and More restaurant.
Soon after Travis arrived at the restaurant, the manager gave him his uniform and trained him on the cash register. For the first hour or so, he watched his new boss, Benny, take orders like the seasoned Fries and More manager he was. It all looked simple enough to Travis. Next the manager left Travis so that he could take orders on his own. He had done his fair share of eating at many fast-food restaurants in his day so he really thought it would be easy, but he was wrong.
When Travis stepped up to the counter to take his first order by himself, he adjusted the tie around his neck. The uniform he was wearing was too tight. The tie felt like it was choking his neck. And it didn’t help that his body was already sore, either.
He smiled at an Asian woman who had walked up to place an order. “Welcome to Fries and More, where we have fries, burgers, chicken, and more. What would you like to order today?” Travis asked, saying the slogan that the restaurant’s employees were mandated to say.
“Ah, yes, I would like a chicken sandwich, with mayonnaise, cheese, and lettuce. I don’t want any tomatoes or onions or pickles. Also give me a junior-sized fry and a medium cola. Also I want an apple pie, but I don’t want it heated,” the woman said.
Travis looked at the cash register and was still trying to type in what the woman wanted on her chicken sandwich. He was pretty sure the sandwich didn’t come with cheese and he’d have to add it somehow, and that the sandwich already didn’t come with pickles or onions, but was not sure about the tomatoes. He fumbled with the screen. Why couldn’t the lady have just ordered a combo number two? Travis thought.
He put the order in and hoped he had gotten it right. The woman looked impatient and he didn’t want to get his head bitten off by asking her to repeat the order. So he stepped over to the fry station, slower than he normally would have due to the pain he felt with each move. He scooped up the junior fries for the woman. Then he took steps over to the soda fountain and got her drink ready to allow the cook to complete the special-order chicken sandwich.
Once the sandwich was ready, he placed it in a bag along with the fries and the drink. When the woman took the bag from Travis she checked it and asked where her apple pie was. Travis apologized and got the pie for her. As soon as he handed it to her she frowned.
“I wanted my pie cold, not hot,” the woman said. She handed it back.
Again Travis apologized. He’d totally forgotten the woman wanted the pie cold. He turned and asked the cook for a cold pie, and handed it to her. She was being a pain, literally and figuratively.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Travis said. He returned to the fry area. Someone had dropped a basket in the grease and the light to indicate that they were ready to be taken out was blinking. He pulled the fries up, poured them in the fry bin, and scooped up another junior fry for her.
When he turned back to the counter, he saw a full scowl on the woman’s face.
“I want to see a manager, now,” the woman said with more force than Travis thought was warranted.
Benny appeared from nowhere it seemed and asked, “Is there a problem?”
“Ah, yeah.” With an attitude, the woman pointed at Travis. “This guy has completely gotten my order wrong. First my apple pie was missing, and when he finally gave it to me it was hot. I wanted it cold. Then he gives me cold fries. And to top that all off, luckily I checked my sandwich and it’s missing the cheese.”
“Miss, I am sorry for your inconvenience. I’ll take care of this for you.” Benny took the bag from the woman, looked at the receipt, and asked her exactly what she wanted. He told the cook, and then got another cold pie for the woman, and hot fries and a fresh cola for her also.
Within two minutes Benny had the correct order for the woman. He slipped a coupon in her bag so that she could come back to receive a free fry with her next burger order. The woman was on her way out of the door, still frowning but sufficiently appeased. During the entire transaction, Benny hadn’t said anything negative to Travis, nor had he reprimanded him, he just smiled and encouraged him to take the order of the next customer in line.
For the next hour, Travis took orders and only got about half of them completely right. After another person complained about her food, Benny decided to move Travis to the back to assist the cook with orders and to help the other cashiers with making sure the fries and onion rings were hot and plentiful.
The Marrying Kind Page 5