The Squeeze

by Paul Schueller

  “Hey,” Tommy yelled. “You here for me?”

  “Well, I guess so. Thought you would want to see a friendly face,” Jenny responded.

  “None better than yours,” Tommy said, dropping his bag and initiating a warm embrace instead of waiting for Jenny’s lead.

  “Yikes! Any tighter, and I’ll break,” Jenny squealed.

  Overwhelmed with sincere happiness, Tommy couldn’t help but apologize for his enthusiasm. “Sorry. Just glad to see you.” He hugged her again, and didn’t care if it was too tight. He loved this woman deeply.

  “Good to see you, too. Let’s get you home, checked into a hotel, and go out for some dinner,” Jenny suggested.

  “Great idea.” Tommy hadn’t felt anywhere near this good in weeks.

  They drove back mostly in silence. The music was good, the traffic light, and they would have plenty of time to talk. Tommy felt like a different person around Jenny. She made him feel like a better and stronger version of himself. Just days earlier he was drinking and drugging himself to sleep. Now that seemed like months ago.

  Tommy was always anxious, ready to be successful, whatever that meant. At work, he longed to be on an adventurous vacation. On vacation he wondered what he was missing at work and worried about falling behind. Now, he wasn’t working and not really caring, too much, that he didn’t have money. For the first time, he understood what Jenny and Pat each had. They were winning; he had been losing . . . his whole life.

  The uneven pavement of the off-ramp jostled Tommy from his thoughts. “Where are you staying?” Jenny asked. “I’d offer you a place to sleep, but with my dad . . .”

  “No worries. I’ll stay at the little hotel down by the water. You know I like it there anyway,” Tommy said.

  “I do know. You would stare at that lake for hours. I think it was one of the main reasons the rest of our class thought you were strange.”

  “Not dark and mysterious?” Tommy asked.

  “Sorry, just strange,” Jenny responded, giving him a sly smile.

  “Well, why don’t you let me show you what I saw?” Tommy suggested.

  “Okay, then. Show me.” They parked, checked Tommy in, and threw his bag in his room. Both grabbed a beer-sized plastic cup full of cheap red wine from the manager’s reception and walked out on the breakwater to Tommy’s favorite rock couch. The summer sun had just dropped below the horizon, and a flock of starlings flying in tight formation crossed paths with the random chaos of bats beginning their evening feeding. The starlings didn’t break ranks as they flew through the chaos of bats and then out of sight. The bats bounced around in a big circle, like electrons in an atom, coming closer until their search for small insects engulfed Tommy and Jenny. There was a charge in the air that raised the hair on their arms and then passed as the bats did. The pair marveled that the bats didn’t collide with them or each other, or the starlings earlier, for that matter.

  The last charter boats slowly waded into the harbor, filled with semiloud, half-drunk guests happy with the day’s catch. The fresh breeze off the lake died without the sun’s energy and Lake Michigan’s breath turned slightly foul, fishy. Tommy and Jenny melded into the rock like it was a comfortable, low-slung deck chair and took in the tremendous stillness. The water was black, sucking up the light, unwilling to give back anything or anyone that might fall into its grasp.

  Jenny finally broke the silence. “Okay, I kind of get it,” Jenny said.

  “What did you think about out here?”

  “Anything and everything; this was my church and sanctuary and escape. I thought . . . too much.”

  “Our classmates were right. You were a strange dude,” Jenny said.

  “Still am,” Tommy acknowledged.

  “So, what have you been thinking about tonight, standing out here again?” Jenny asked.

  Tommy pointed to a small, silver, dead fish in the water and said, “I was thinking I’d like to make it through the next couple of weeks and not end up looking like that.”

  “Is it really that bad? That dangerous? This John guy can’t be that bad,” Jenny reasoned.

  “Remember, someone is dead already,” Tommy reminded her.

  “Well, I hope you’re just thinking too much again,” Jenny said.

  “Yeah, wine usually gets me thinking too much just before it gets me thinking too little,” Tommy said. They wandered back off of the rocky breakwater and onto the concrete pier that led to a classic, white, tall lighthouse, continuing to talk, looking more often at their feet than each other to avoid falling.

  “While you’re still thinking too much, what else is in that head of yours?” Jenny asked.

  “Oh, just repetitive, relentless, negative thoughts. Sometimes I’ll fixate for days, months, hell, even years about something stupid I did.

  This last one, blowing a lifetime supply of money, might take a lifetime for me to get over.”

  Jenny was happy that Tommy trusted her, but she was still hesitant.

  She knew there was more to him. More baggage. “So, there are meds for that kind of thing, right?”

  “The good ones are good because they leave you in a fog. You still know the problem is there, but you just don’t care. If I take that now I would also need to take something else to increase my focus,” Tommy said. “It’s a vicious circle.”

  “Are you on anything right now?” Jenny asked.

  “There may be some residual effects, but mostly I am on a big glass of wine,” Tommy quipped.

  “Is there more to share?” Jenny asked hesitantly.

  Tommy wondered how much she could absorb, but this was his one chance to get everything out there. Tommy said, “Unfortunately there’s more. I feel like sometimes I’m only a split second away from losing control of my body, my life, everything. Is it those brief moments that result in murders and suicides, or getting hit by a train or a bus? One second at the wrong second?”

  “Do you really feel like you’re living on the edge of disaster?” Jenny asked.

  “Not always, but I do now. I have myself and Pat in a pretty tight spot. The wrong thought or action at the wrong time, and he’ll never financially recover,” Tommy said.

  “Sounds like you better not fuck it up!” Jenny offered, trying to break the seriousness of the moment.

  “I appreciate the insight, and thanks for not freaking out over my multiple layers of crazy.” Tommy hesitated, but then continued, “And there might be one more thing.”

  “Spit it out Tommy. No time like the present,” Jenny said.

  “I really can’t. I don’t know what it is. It seems like there is something more that I am supposed to tell you, some unspoken baggage that still exists. It feels like we need closure, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  Jenny turned pale, but she hoped that it was dark enough that Tommy didn’t notice. She nearly panicked wondering if he somehow was sensing the real thing that was hidden between them was her fault, and it was their son. She spoke quickly and dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You have plenty of other things to think about.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Tommy said and was ready to change the subject.

  “I’m glad you shared with me, although it’s mostly things I suspected or knew,” Jenny said and grinned.

  “Funny. Is it that obvious?” Tommy asked.

  “To me and Pat it is. We had the time to see through that and get to the good stuff, and the good is still there . . . you’ve just hidden it well.”

  “Thanks, I think. I kind of hid it all away for the last twenty years trying to focus on what I wanted to accomplish. I really didn’t have anyone to talk to and just wanted to push it all down,” Tommy said.

  “Can you see how that’s going to all come off as crazy and self-centered? You’ve got to learn that you can’t get away with being an ass in a small town as easy as you can in a big city,” Jenny said.

  “Yeah, I get it, but there’s more to it. When I was growing up, I saw this town suck t
he life out of too many people. My mom and stepdad, their friends; they settled when they could have done more. They got stuck in a lifestyle where they needed the jobs and couldn’t get out. My stepdad and mom, they just went through the motions, waiting to die.”

  “That’s what you think of them?” Jenny asked.

  “Yep. I’d rather die trying to make a difference than live waiting for the end.”

  Jenny paused, and then said, “Is that what you think of me, too?”

  Tommy felt sick and jumped quickly to speak. “No. You have a huge impact right here, where you are. I see the way kids look at you. You’re getting many of these kids through school and figure out what they want to do with their lives.”

  “You mean out of this dead-end town?” Jenny asked.

  “No, I get it now. This town is only a dead-end if you let it be. I just always thought it had to be,” Tommy said.

  “And Pat?” Jenny asked.

  “Pat’s fine. He has a family he cares for. That’s where my family went bad. They just didn’t care enough, didn’t love enough. What I don’t understand is that if you say a person’s priorities are God, family, and friends, they’re off the hook. At a funeral, they’re golden. Well, except for the whole being dead part. Everyone thinks that they must have led a good life. Some people need to be held accountable for more.” Tommy was rambling on in a desperate need for her to understand.

  “So, you’re saying Pat should do more?”

  “Well, I think this is his chance if he can do it without fucking up the other stuff,” Tommy said. “I get that he has God, love, family and friends.

  That’s his priority; anything else is gravy,” Tommy said.

  “Until now,” Jenny said. “Remember, if you hurt him or his family . . .”

  “I know, but you would have to get in line to kill me. I won’t, I can’t. If I screw things up for a man as good as Pat . . . it will all be over soon,” Tommy said.

  By this time, they had made their way back from the lighthouse, their glasses of wine empty. Without asking each other, they quietly walked toward the main street of town, each wondering about the enormity of the impact that this situation could have on Pat, Mary, and their family.

  39

  Jenny and Tommy’s stroll back toward the downtown area was interrupted when Jenny noticed a hulking mass of a tattoo- and gold-garnished man in a nice suit coat with an open-neck dress shirt coming toward them. He looked out of place, but she was never one to judge quickly and wasn’t alarmed until he stopped right in front of Tommy, like a roadblock to the rest of his life.

  The stranger spoke in a low mumbling voice. “Say, Tommy, do you have a minute for me?”

  “Who are you?” Tommy asked hesitantly.

  “Why don’t we talk without your lovely friend?” the stranger suggested.

  Sensing something ominous, Jenny insisted, “Let’s just speak with me here.”

  The stranger looked at Tommy with palpable intensity and said, “This conversation really will end much better if just the two of us talk.”

  “Jenny, go ahead,” Tommy said, knowing the encounter had something to do with George’s death and wanting to do anything to keep Jenny out of harm’s way. “I’ll meet you at the bar in a couple of minutes.”

  Jenny stared at Tommy, who reassured her with a calming glance that it would be best. She looked back several times until she turned the corner onto the main street. Tommy and the stranger watched until she was out of sight, at which point the stranger grabbed Tommy by the neck and forced him into the alley and up against the brick wall of an apartment building opposite a windowless back entrance to a business on the main street.

  “Listen, it would be good for your health if you let go of this idea that George’s death was anything but an accident. And feeding the cops information . . . that has got to stop. Do you get me?”

  The stranger’s grip had the intense pressure of a vice. Tommy could barely get enough air to force out a few words. “I’m not helping them; they suspect me of murder.”

  The man looked slightly puzzled, and then a second later Tommy felt the pain of a meaty fist thrust up beneath his rib cage. As he dropped to the ground, he could no longer smell the sickly sweet mix of booze infused vomit that moments earlier had made him wince. He longed for it if it meant he could breathe again.

  “Well, just make sure you don’t because I don’t want to have to come back to this little shithole of a town.”

  “I haven’t” was all that Tommy could squeak out as the stranger disappeared, leaving Tommy still gasping for air. He finally relaxed enough to let some air back into his lungs, and his senses started to return. He could hear someone coming toward him and thought it was the stranger wanting to deliver more of a message and maybe in an even worse mood. He grabbed a 2x4 off a construction pile in the alley and steadied himself at the corner of the building, ready to strike back.

  He could tell the person was only steps away when he recognized the patter of Jenny’s flip flops. He dropped the board before seeing her and turned the corner, falling almost gracefully into her arms.

  “What the hell happened?” Jenny screamed.

  “Actually, not as much as I thought would happen. I knew I would eventually piss someone off. This was just a message that I should leave whatever happened to George alone.”

  “Then do that,” Jenny said.

  “I’m not helping the police.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that someone who had something to do with George’s death is after you?”

  “Not too happy that they came here, but it’s good to know, in a way, that something really did happen to George. This way there actually is someone for the police to go after. There has to be some evidence, at some point, that it wasn’t me. Can’t you see it? If it was all some bizarre accident, the police might never get turned in a different direction on this. I could be the guy that they always want to catch. I don’t think he will be back. I think that he knew when he looked into my eyes that I was too afraid to lie, and I knew looking into his that he was completely surprised that I wasn’t working with the police. I could see how someone might think that I was helping them since I’ve talked to them often enough without an attorney.”

  “So, you want to head back to the hotel? Or to the doctor?” Jenny asked.

  “You know, I’m a little shaken up, but I’ll be fine. Whoever that was, and whoever they might represent, doesn’t have anything to fear from me.”

  As strange as it felt to both, they decided to continue on with the evening. Tommy looked no worse for the experience, although he would be plenty sore the next day. Jenny sat Tommy on a bar stool so he could rest and regroup, and she went to buy a couple of shots of tequila thinking that may offer them each some support.

  The pair drank their tequila, made small talk, and each had a beer and a bison burger. Tommy hardly ate anything since his gut still felt upended. They sat contently until Jenny suddenly sprang up, looked at her watch, and said, “We’ve got to go! Pat and Mary asked me to help with their kids since they are in Chicago. I told them I would pick them up after the summer play at the high school. With all the commotion I completely forgot!”

  They hurried to the car and were in front of the high school in no time. Jenny spotted Pat and Mary's three kids talking to a slender, bushy-haired boy who Tommy thought might be the kid who he saw on the pier and another boy that was strongly built with dark brooding features. She hesitated and then asked Tommy to wait in the car. He watched Jenny walking down the sidewalk away from him and noticed some of the boys leaving the auditorium gave her a glance and a wave, but then, an extra look as she passed.

  When Jenny arrived next to the five teenagers, she pointed at Tommy in the car and waved. Tommy politely waved back, but then turned toward the gym, thinking back to those not-so-glory days. Within a minute, Jenny got back into the driver’s seat. “Don’t they need a ride?” Tommy asked.

  “No, their friend Jim will give th
em a ride home,” Jenny said.

  “Can you trust him?” Tommy asked.

  “Yes, he’s a good kid. Look at you, getting all paternal!”

  “Whatever. Hey, I think some of those other boys that you walked by thought you looked a bit on the hot side,” Tommy said with a sly smile.

  “That’s disgusting. No, they don’t. Are you trying to cheapen the work that I do?” Jenny asked.

  “God, no! Just suggesting you should use all of the tools at your disposal.”

  “You’re a tool! And a pig!” Jenny scolded, but she didn’t really mean it. Tommy knew that Jenny didn’t have a clue how beautiful she actually was, and that was one of her many charms.

  Without asking him, Jenny drove them back to the hotel parking lot, which really didn’t imply an end to the night, or anything else, since it was the same parking lot they always used to stop at one of the two local bars that they had frequented before.

  “What do you want to do?” Tommy asked with a sheepish grin.

  “I believe the same thing as you. So now, in your room, or not at all,” she said playfully. “The kids promised to be home in two hours, and I want to check on them.”

  They went upstairs and enjoyed their time together talking, making love, and doing both things over again. After that, Jenny slipped on her clothes and eased out the door as Tommy faded off to sleep.

  Tommy woke in the middle of the night and felt behind him in the bed, almost certain Jenny wouldn’t be there, but hoping nonetheless. He tossed, turned, and struggled to sleep until early in the morning when the pain in his stomach made it too difficult to stay lying down any longer. He had surprised himself the night before with his reaction to a message that was very much meant to intimidate him. The only two things that he was sure of were that someone killed George, and now, whoever did, knew he wasn’t a threat. He thought about it some more and realized that John probably wouldn’t have sent anyone because he knew that Tommy wasn’t working with the police. Then again, maybe John was just playing him.