by Kim Cayer
“Take my car,” Velda said as she answered the phone. She cupped her hand over the receiver and said, “It’s for you.”
“Take a message,” I said. I thought I heard Velda say, “Donald Sutherland?” but I was already flying out the door.
I arrived at the airport just as the American Airlines flight from Houston landed. For a couple minutes I felt uncomfortable. How will it look when Joe sees me waiting for him? He’ll get a weird vibe. But then I told myself that, as an agent, I had a legitimate reason for being there.
I saw Joe emerge from customs. He walked past me, not seeing me. I didn’t say anything; just studied him a moment. He was concentrating so hard, it was no wonder he didn’t see me. “Joe,” I simply said. His head shot up in amazement, but he didn’t look around. “Joe!” I repeated.
He finally looked at me. “Alice!” he exclaimed. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Really?” I asked like a giddy schoolgirl.
“What are you doing here?” he asked back.
“I thought I’d pick you up,” I said. “Besides, I have some news.”
“Yeah, me too,” Joe said. “I need to talk to you, Alice.”
“About the film?” I asked, concerned. “Was it that awful?”
“Oh, no,” he replied. “It was OK.”
“Well, I have to talk to you about something, too,” I said, building up to the big surprise.
“I want to go first,” Joe said solemnly. “Is that OK?”
“Sure,” I said. My news could wait a while.
We got into Velda’s car and I started driving him home. He didn’t say a word. After ahem-ing a couple times, I finally had to come out and remind him. “Joe? You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Yeah,” he said, and nothing else. I knew I would just to have to wait until he was ready. I had to bite my tongue to withhold from spilling my good tidings.
Joe didn’t have much baggage to take in. I stayed in the driver’s seat, wondering if I should go in the house with him. He got his duffel bag out of the trunk, walked halfway up his sidewalk and then looked back at me. “Come in,” he commanded.
I sat at his kitchen table and marveled a bit at the kind of fellow Joe was. There were 40 pieces of mail that he didn’t even glance at. His answering machine was chockfull of messages but he didn’t even bother to check them. He dropped his duffel in his room and came to sit at the table with me. We just looked at one another. It was beginning to get uncomfortable again. I was about to scream, “WHAAAT?” when Joe started talking.
“I was thinking about you a lot in Texas,” he said. I waited for more but nothing came.
“I thought about you a lot, too,” I said, feeling goofy afterwards.
“Were you dating while I was away?” he asked next.
My face gave my thoughts away. Why in the world was he asking me that? Why did he care? I just gawked at him then said, “No!” You would have thought he’d asked if I slept with a different man every night. “Why do you ask?” I really was curious.
“We used to have a pretty good thing together,” Joe reminisced. I don’t know if I’d say ‘pretty good’ but it was pretty alright. I nodded again. He thought some more then suddenly rushed his sentences. “Well, I was feelin’ like I missed ya, and I started remembering the nights we’d spend at your place, and I know it was all my fault that we busted up. You didn’t do a thing. And you know, Alice, you and me get along pretty good too. I’ve changed a lot and so have you. Do you think that maybe we can start…sort of…well, dating, although I hate that word. Can we just start being together again? Do you want to try it?” He finished and sat there like a frightened child.
The uncomfortable feeling I usually had around Joe dissolved. It actually felt like I was washed free, cleansed, a murky yellow puddle settling at my feet. The feeling was replaced by a rosy glow.
I opened my mouth to speak. I hadn’t realized what I was going to say but the simple truth spilled out. “Oh, Joe, I’ve missed you…”
AND WE KISSED! Delicious lips I’d never forgotten. The skinny frame my encircling arms knew so well. Our long kiss ended and we looked directly into each other’s eyes. Without saying a word, we both got up and went into his bedroom.
Sex was spectacular. Of course, we were both trying and I knew that within a month we’d probably be down to twice a week, but it was good times right now. I noticed a change in myself. Before with Joe, I’d like to keep my pajama top on when we did it. I was ashamed of my big belly. I didn’t mind when he didn’t caress me. Now, I threw my body at him. He seemed appreciative of my new svelte figure and aggressive style. For the first time ever, we did it twice.
We were lying in each other’s arms and I guess we both fell asleep. I woke up and looked at the clock. “Holy shit!” I yelled. “Midnight!”
Joe woke up. “Might as well stay here,” Joe suggested.
“I’ve got Velda’s car,” I explained. “Shit, we’ve been asleep over six hours!”
“Did you have somewhere to go?” Joe asked.
“No, but Velda must be wondering what’s up. Do you think it’s too late to call?” I asked, then shook my head. “No, I’ll just go home.” Joe looked crestfallen. “I can stay over another night, Joe,” I added reassuringly.
“‘Night, Ali,” he said, giving me a tender kiss.
“‘Night, Joe,” I said and started walking out the door when it hit me. “JOE! MY NEWS!”
“Oh, yeah,” he remembered. “What is it?”
“I got you another film,” I began.
Joe perked up maybe a smidgen. “Oh, good,” he said. “What’s it called?”
“Godfather IV,” I said. His eyes did a weird dance; I could read them. Godfather? As in de Niro and Pacino? She serious? Nah, must be a copycat film.
“You sure it’s called Godfather IV?” Joe asked questioningly.
“Yeah,” I replied, then dropped the bomb. “The Francis Ford Coppola film.”
Joe outdid himself the third time.
* * *
I snuck into the house around 3 a.m. There was a note waiting for me from Velda. I don’t know where you are, the note said, but WAKE ME UP the minute you get in. V. Oh, oh, she was pissed off. I didn’t exactly feel like catching hell at three in the morning and besides, I was too full of love and the smell of sex. I’d talk to her in the morning.
At 9 a.m. the next day, I was shaken awake. As soon as I saw it was Velda, I started sleepily explaining. “Sorry ’bout the car, Vel, but see, Joe and I decided we were in love…”
“I don’t care about the car!” Velda yelled. “I wanted to talk to you last night! You’re busy today! I’ve got three auditions, count them, three! And Joe’s got a meeting with some director in town and your mother called to say she’s coming down for a visit and…”
“What’s going on?!” I yelled, sitting bolt upright in my bed.
“Oh, man, the second you left yesterday, the phone started ringing off the hook! All sorts of people…” Velda was interrupted by the doorbell.
I grabbed a housecoat and followed her out of the room. She let in a postman who had a Special Delivery letter for me. He passed a courier on his way out who had a package for me. A UPS van pulled up and a man walked up the sidewalk with a big bag. “You Ali Kumplunkem?” he asked. I was handed an armful of brown 8 x l0” envelopes. I recognized them. Photos, resumes, demo tapes.
At 9:02 precisely, the phone started ringing. “Are you taking on new clients?” consisted of 80% of the calls. Most of the mail dealt with people wondering the same thing.
Velda looked frazzled. I was dazzled. I took the phone off the hook and told Velda to sit down. “Velda,” I soothed her, “have no fear. As of next week, I’ll be in my own office.” I smiled at the thought. “With a secretary.” I was grinning now. “Three phone lines…a fax machine…” and suddenly I was sniffling. “Oh, Velda, can you believe this?”
“Are you happy?” Velda asked softly. Maybe she
did realize what I’d been through.
“Happy?” I repeated. “Yes. Happy, scared, excited and looking forward to my next 50 years.” I pulled out a photo from one of the envelopes. “I think I’m going to call Mr. Jamie Carlson in for an interview.”
Yes, I was happy. I loved my country. My claim to fame was shame, but hey – I was given a second chance. God Save the Prime Minister.
- THE END -
At Roundfire we publish great stories. We lean towards the spiritual and thought-provoking. But whether it’s literary or popular, a gentle tale or a pulsating thriller, the connecting theme in all Roundfire fiction titles is that once you pick them up you won’t want to put them down.