Bryant entered his explanation mode, leaning forward and talking with his hands. “Dual enrollment is where you attend Bevill State Community College for a class or two, and attend high school. You get high school and college credit for the same class.”
Cara smiled. “The principal is going to be sorry.”
Bryant caught the malevolent look that flashed through her eyes. “Sorry for what?”
“He, as an educator, should have known about dual enrollment. He would have to be a pretty shitty principal not to. So if he knew about it, why didn’t he suggest it to me?” Cara waited for a reply.
“God, you’re paranoid. Do you really think everyone’s out to keep you from advancing in life?” Now it was Bryant’s turn to wait for a response.
“Well, how else would you explain it?” Her eyes dared him to question her, to come up with some flimsy interpretation.
“Let’s switch subjects. I would hate to jeopardize my date.” His face reddened at his own mention of their deal.
“Well, what would you like to talk about then?”
“What are you doing after school?” Bryant crossed his fingers under the table as he asked.
“I was thinking that you could help me study.” She suggested with a wry smile.
Confused, his eyes narrowed and several creases developed on his forehead. “Study for what?”
She coyly laughed. “Anatomy.”
Bryant tilted his head like the RCA dog and said, “But you’re not in the Anatomy and Physiology class.”
“I was trying to be seductive.” She giggled at the change in his facial expression. The sudden enlightenment on his face made him look so cute. “He is actually blushing” she mused.
***
Cara walked into the large house. Two stories with an attic and a basement, the structure actually contained four levels. The exterior sported faux-log cabin siding and a flat, neatly trimmed lawn. In the backyard, a concrete slab held an in-ground swimming pool filled with clear, chlorinated water. As she stood just on the inside of her front door, she glanced at her wristwatch. The white face and hands relayed that it was three thirty P.M. She examined the simple black band and thought about how cheap it was. The device was ancient, but she wore it proudly because it was bought with her money, not her parent’s funds. The cash came from a job in fast food that lasted two hours. As usual, she had quit because the other employees and managers were beneath her.
Bryant whispered over her shoulder. “Are you going to let me in?”
“Sssshhhh. Let me make sure my parents aren’t home.” She finished her quiet command and called out “Mom? Dad?” Then both children patiently waited for a response. With none forthcoming, they cautiously tiptoed into the house. Cara whispered to him, “Dad won’t be home for two more hours, but I don’t know where Mom is.”
Bryant was busy looking around the house at document frames containing awards, diplomas, and degrees. “Is your whole family as nerdy as you?” He quipped. He caught her sneer and continued examining items. A small but ornate table lamp rested on what appeared to be a writing desk. He leaned over to look at the sheet of college ruled paper lying out. “Hey, this note says that your mother has gone to Tuscaloosa looking for a job and will not be back until five.”
Cara grabbed his hand. “That means we have at least an hour and a half.” Then she led him by the hand toward a staircase connecting to the second floor. Bryant wanted to ask questions. Where were they going? Was he interpreting these actions correctly? Step by step, he ascended with her. His heart beat faster and he knew that blood pulsing through his veins was redirecting to his penis. His manhood threatened to rise in anticipation at just the hint of sex. At the top of the stairs, she opened a door leading to a minimalist room holding only a bed and a stereo flanked by filled bookcases along the wall. She sat down on the bed and motioned him over to her.
Bryant sat down and clumsily tried to slide his arm around her. She caught his maneuver and said, “Just so you know, I’m not going to sleep with you today.”
He nodded with a solemn face but inwardly glowed. Had it been his imagination or had she emphasized “today”? Instead of pressing the matter, he just whispered, “There are lots of ways for us to have fun without going all the way.”
“Like what?” She responded and shed her camo army surplus jacket.
Without marring the moment with words, he leaned forward and kissed her. It was eager but with a level of restraint that made the kiss passionate but not sloppy. She responded in kind. The longing for this previously absent physical affection made her hands tremble. Bryant grabbed her hands to steady them. “Are you alright?” He asked with honest concern.
She nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, it’s just that you are the first boy I’ve ever let kiss me.”
He could not contain the grin that broke out over his face. He reached up and gently slid his hand down her cheek. “You have no idea what my life was like before you came here.”
She closed her eyes and breathlessly sighed. Her heart threatened to burst if she did not confess the truth behind her feelings. “You are the first person I’ve felt anything for. I’ve looked at everyone else in terms of what they lack. I look at you and see everything you have to offer. You are sensitive, caring, funny, confident, and pensive. It doesn’t hurt that you’re handsome too.”
Bryant’s response was to lean forward and plant a small kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.”
The boy left before Cara’s parents arrived home. The goodbye was rife with repeated hugs and kisses ranging from quick pecks to long deep kisses and even some experimentation with Frenching. When he stepped into his mother’s truck, he could not stop smiling and his erection refused to die down. The long drive back to his trailer agonized him as the sensations of physical affection still burned hot in his brain. Nothing felt worse than an itch you couldn’t scratch. While occupied with his thoughts of future glory, Bryant decided to scratch his itch while going sixty down Highway eighteen (also known as the Vernon highway). The only thought occupying his mind was “don’t let me get pulled over, don’t let me get pulled over”.
***
The next day after school, Bryant regretted having to work. He suddenly realized that he could be with Cara if he did not have a low paying, crappy job flipping burgers or running the drive-though. His co-workers tried to cheer him up. Robert stepped around the grill and walked up front during one of the slow periods. “Hey man, you look like somebody pissed in your cereal. Customers got you down?”
“No, it has nothing to do with customers.” Bryant remembered Robert calling Cara a “stuck-up bitch” behind her back on her first day of school. The insult infuriated him still. Robert was trying to befriend him again, the hypocrite! “It has to do with you being an asshole.” He calmly stated.
“What?” His mouth hung agape in disbelief.
“I have a girlfriend now, someone that everyone at our lunch table has never spoken to but hates. You could at least have the decency to leave her out of conversation when I’m around.” His blood slowly simmered with repressed anger.
“That’s what this is about?” Robert let out a short chuckle. “We talk shit all the time to each other. This is the first time it has ever bothered you.”
Bryant looked him in the eyes with a solemn demeanor that surprised the cook. “It’s because she is important to me.”
“Okay, that’s fine with me. Just know that whenever Rick is around, I’m still going to be a bastard towards the both of you.” He smiled like a doofus and nudged Bryant with his elbow. “Can I tell you something and you keep it a secret?”
“That you’re really a nice guy but can’t risk your popularity?” The star struck lover quipped.
“Everyone knows that; I’m talking about Debbie over there.” Robert pointed to a light skinned black girl working at the second drive through window. “I’m going to fuck her one day.” He stated in his matter of fact manner.
“How do you fi
gure that?” Bryant was almost laughing. “Your friends would ostracize you.”
“I wouldn’t tell them, idiot.” The presence of his broad smile made it hard to tell if Robert were serious or just joking. “She has those thick lips and that light skin, oooh, and that straight black hair. Plus, she’s got that figure, man. If I could convince her to give a white boy a chance, I’d lick the jar if you know what I mean.”
“I can’t decide if I should hate you right now or not. You are not a racist, just incredibly shallow.” Bryant pointed at the monitor displaying new orders, just arriving. “You’ve got a burger up.”
Robert disappeared behind the stainless steel fixtures suddenly shouting “coffee with cream!” and tossed pre-formed patties onto a clam-shell grill. Sizzling and a hiss of steam drifted up to Bryant and he began stocking cups of various sizes. When he walked over to the drive-through to check the level of the cups, he smiled at Debbie and appraised her.
Robert had spoken the truth. She looked very nice in her uniform. The visor on top of her head sprouted a black ponytail out of the back. Her black jeans tightly hugged her hips and showed off her well-proportioned figure. Her complexion was superb - no blemishes only smooth caramel colored skin. Yes, Robert was serious, but he could only express himself in his own offhanded way.
Bryant walked back to the grill and leaned over the condiments table to address Robert. “What do you have to offer her?”
Robert spun back around pulling a bun out of the rack and placing it on a spread wrapper. “I have a nice body, from all that Tae Kwon Do and Tang Soo Do that I’ve been taking. Plus, I hit the weights with most of the guys at the facilities by the stadium.”
“Anything emotionally?” Bryant raised an eyebrow.
“Sure, I’m nice. I won’t call her a trick ass bitch or anything like that.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.” Bryant then returned to his post leaving Robert to the grill.
***
Doctor Wagner walked into the hospital cafeteria and scanned the faces. Anxious family members and exhausted members of the staff sat at scattered tables with plastic trays loaded down with food placed in front of them. Most of the nurses ate quickly but few of the visitors touched anything on their plates. One beaming face caught his attention and she beckoned him over. It was an attractive, voluptuous woman (some would say full-figured). He nodded in acknowledgment and headed to an empty seat across from her.
She stood and shook his hand as he leaned over the table to reach her more easily. They both sat down and she immediately reached into her purse and pulled out a small legal pad and a pocket tape recorder.
Eric raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I didn’t think this interview would be so formal.” The look that she returned forced him to look away in embarrassment.
In a voice that he recognized from a brief phone conversation the previous day, she explained. “We may be a small town paper, but the Times Record takes reporting very seriously.” She recited the line with much indignation and a little monotony hinting that she regularly combated the lack of respect associated with Podunk periodicals.
She clicked the record button, waited two seconds, and spoke. “This is Martina Cook speaking with doctor Eric Wagner. First question: How long have you been an M.D.?”
Eric snapped out of his daze and shifted his eyes away from her plump breasts. “Six years.”
“Where did you graduate?”
“University of North Carolina.” He responded without pause.
“Is that where you are from?” She curiously asked.
“No, I moved there for educational purposes.” He tried to keep his answers short.
“Where are you from?”
“All over. I’ve moved quite a bit.” He tried to disarm her with a smile.
“Where do you call ‘home’?” She tried an alternate approach.
“Fayette.” He wanted to laugh at his own brilliant sidestep.
“Where does your family reside?” She approached again, trying to keep her cool.
“No living relatives.” He answered with finality.
“If you don’t want to take the interview seriously, why did you agree to do it?” She snapped at him.
“I am taking it seriously.” He retorted, sounding defensive.
“Then why aren’t you answering my questions?”
“I have answered them, all of them.” He calmed himself down with slow deep breaths. He was going to have to comply a little or she would become really suspicious. In a repentant tone, he made her an offer dripping with practiced sincerity. “Let’s start over. Ask me from the beginning.”
Ms. Cook sighed, no longer excited about the interview. “Fine.” She glanced down at her notes and began again. Effortlessly dancing around the answers (giving just enough to satisfy while avoiding certain areas), he finished the conversation without exposing his secret shame.
***
The car swiftly covered the road leading home. Not familiar with some of the regional fast food chains, Jean Creed asked, “What the hell is a Jack’s?” No one answered her question. David sullenly kept his eyes on the road, trying not to scream at his wife.
Finally, the tension reached the high-water mark. “Can I get a home cooked meal, Mrs. Working woman? We have eaten at every place in this town except Jack’s apparently.”
Jean responded in kind. “I’m sorry to interrupt your patriarchy by expecting the same consideration for the time I put in at work, too.”
“You’re unemployed!” He shouted.
“Because you forced me to move to this piece of shit town. I could still have a town house in New York if not for you!”
Cara sat in the back of the car ignoring them and watched as the Caprice passed McDonald’s. She caught a glimpse of Bryant’s truck and suddenly longed to see him, even if it was across a counter and a tray of greasy food. “Pull into McDonald’s Dad.”
“Don’t you start with me too!” He turned on his daughter.
She fought back. “We’ve got to eat and it’s right there. You don’t want to stop fine, but there are only so many places to choose from in a town of five thousand.”
“Fine.” He spun the wheel to go back to Micky D’s. “Let’s eat at el cheapo, again. I swear you’d think she had a sexual attraction to that place.”
Cara smiled thinking to herself, “No, just a cashier.”
***
Martin happened to pull into Burger King but saw Cara walking with her family into the shop across the street. Bryant worked there. The rejected boy went inside and ordered thinking about how the girl had pushed him aside for a fast food worker. Didn’t she know that his family had money? He was going to go someplace one day. Bryant was going to flip burgers and pay on that crappy trailer for the rest of his life. Women were so illogical. The meal tasted like ashes in his mouth (but not because it was flame broiled too long) as he stared from his booth into the windows across the street. She watched Bryant as if he would disappear if she looked away. Martin felt sick inside watching her watch someone else.
In the air-conditioned interior of Burger King, Martin felt something inside of himself break. It was not his heart, but the part of him that had convinced himself that people could like him regardless of his parent’s money. The epiphany crushed his spirit. As he ate his hamburger and extra-large fries, he began to feel his eyes water. He finished his meal, silently crying with his back turned to the counter and most of the patrons. When finished, he calmly stood and walked over to the trashcan, dumping the discards through the swinging door above the receptacle. He walked out, slipping into his Mustang and driving off into the night.
His turns and twists became aimless but he found himself surrounded by other cars and trucks on the strip. As he looked out the window, people laughed on the sidewalks, girls gripped their boyfriends as if someone else were planning to steal their trophies away. Martin ignored them and continued driving by. He did not belong on the strip. He knew stopping would b
e a huge mistake. That was not his crowd and getting out to force himself into someone else’s social circle would prove how desperate he was.
“Not tonight.” He mouthed the words out the window at the crowded sidewalks and darkened storefronts. “I’d rather be alone than be the fifth wheel.” To further fight the temptation, he eased his foot on the gas causing the small knots of teenagers to pass by faster. Seconds later, he passed the last traffic light on the strip and slid from their grasp.
***
McDonalds’ golden arches darkened as a small switch in the office fell into the off position. Bryant wiped down the stainless steel with a fuzzy mitten and a bottle of milky white cleaner. He spied Robert behind the grill scrubbing as hard as he could with a packet of yellow high temp cleaner and a long handle scrub brush. Steam curled up from the still hot surface as the poorly paid boy slaved above it. Bryant smiled thinking about how Cara had just walked in for no reason other than to see him - the way the door swung open and she strode in with a mission, heading straight for his line.
Bryant had given her his best grin and said the magic words “Welcome to McDonalds’. May I take your order?”
She had smiled and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich combo. Then she leaned in close and said, “Add a kiss to that order.”
Bryant obliged her quickly darting forward to sneak a quick chicken peck kiss. His manager later reprimanded him because a customer had complained. It was worth it, even though he came close to losing his job.
Robert of course defended him in his own uncouth way. “Excuse me.” He had poked his head into the office where Bryant was being written up. “I don’t think he should get in too much trouble. I mean it was just a kiss. It’s not like he finger banged her and touched someone’s fries.”
Bryant chuckled remembering it. He would have to tell Cara at school tomorrow. He wanted to shout from the rooftops and cartwheel down the streets but he managed to keep it bottled up. He went back to wiping off the counters and assorted workstations preparing to go home for the night. His chores came to an abrupt close when the phone blasted out with a burst of rings. Since he was close to the phone, Bryant decided to answer it.
Darkest Days: A Southern Zombie Tale Page 5