The Thursday Night Club

by Steven Manchester

  Abby held her breath. Like a nightmare come true, the car plummeted down the notorious first hill and straight toward the earth. The fall lasted no more than a moment and no less than a lifetime. The hill was longer than expected and lasted well beyond the screams of those who chose to exhale. On empty lungs, they hit bottom and were catapulted back up to an invisible turn. Abby thought they were going right off the track and struggled to roll herself into the fetal position. The bar would not allow it. The turn was just another sick joke from the ride’s sadistic designer.

  Gravity took over. While the wood boards swayed and moaned from the weight of the cars and their uncontrolled momentum, premature questions of life and death were considered. The train of cars then rolled home where the old man was waiting to apply the shrieking brake.

  On rubbery knees, they climbed out. Abby was breathing again and smiling to be a survivor. Yes! She screamed in her head. She’d conquered the giant, they all did, and so much more than that. The entire experience was exhilarating, filled with equal amounts of fear and excitement.

  Richard turned to Abby, and grinned. “Go again?”

  She nodded. “Oh yeah!”

  They went four more times.

  It was dusk, almost six o’clock, when Lincoln Park lit up with neon. It’s already time to go, Abby realized.

  As they waited for Mr. Giles to pick them up, Abby grabbed Richard’s arm. “Let’s go see the ballroom before your dad gets here.” She smiled wide. “Please?”

  He followed her.

  Every time the ballroom door opened, the magical sounds of Big Band music leaked out. Abby watched the dancing couples hold each other close and looked at Richard. I hope we’ll dance this same way one day when we’re grown.

  Richard smiled at her before punching her in the arm, and making her chase him all the way back to the awaiting station wagon.

  Just in Time

  Eunice Giles and Bill Stryker find love in the winter of their lives. According to Eunice, “Love can happen at any time in life—young or old—and the trick is to cherish it by living each of its moments to the fullest. One brief moment in love is worth more than a decade wandering aimlessly in solitude.” Set in the world of Steven Manchester’s novel PRESSED PENNIES, this is the story of a moment of love that is worth so much more than either Eunice or Bill can imagine.

  *

  Eunice Giles and Bill Stryker find love in the winter of their lives. According to Eunice, “Love can happen at any time in life—young or old—and the trick is to cherish it by living each of its moments to the fullest. One brief moment in love is worth more than a decade wandering aimlessly in solitude.” Taken from the pages of Pressed Pennies, Eunice and Bill spend their brief time together proving just that.

  The brief excerpt I’ve selected depicts Eunice and Bill’s magical descent into a deep and intense love. In the twilight of their lives, they exchange vows before family and friends. The night is perfect—well, almost.

  *

  As winter melted into the spring of their golden years, Bill and Eunice’s each and every moment were spent discovering a young and budding love. They found a laid back nightclub where they danced away every Saturday. They took long rides, stopped to watch children play Little League, and walked miles of rocky east coast beaches. Together, they captured a hundred sunsets, several jars of fireflies and the love of a lifetime over several cozy campfires. And through it all, they devoured gallons of black raspberry ice cream. Their relationship was comfortable, easy—eternal.

  On a wrinkled old beach blanket, he finally asked for her hand.

  She gave it. “Together forever?” she asked.

  “Together forever!” he confirmed. “So what do you say about a summer wedding?”

  As if she didn’t hear the question, Eunice asked, “How did you know, Bill? I mean…really know?”

  “How did I really know…what?” he asked, his arm wrapped around her.

  “How did you know I was the love of your life?”

  Bill sat up straight and gazed into her eyes. “That’s an easy one,” he said, grinning. “You like black raspberry ice cream.”

  “That’s it?”

  Bill chuckled, and then took her other hand into his. “Since the moment I met you, I’ve honestly felt like my life has just begun.” His eyes glassed over with emotion. “…and I’ve forgotten about everyone and everything else around me.”

  “Good answer,” she said.

  “Honest answer,” he said, and threw his arms around her again. “My love, you have the spontaneity, faith and innocence of a child.” He kissed her on the top of the head. “You really believe the world is good; therefore, it is. You create her own experience, your own reality and as far as I’m concerned anyone caught inside it is blessed.”

  She hugged him tight. “I’m the one who’s blessed,” she whispered.

  He shook his head and kissed her again. “Your grace, happiness and peace have rubbed off on me and I’ve finally learned that all the best things in life are possible.”

  She melted into his embrace.

  “In your world,” he concluded, “a man could actually drown in a state of utter joy…and I’m more than happy to go under.” He searched her eyes. “More than anything, you’ve taught me that love, true love, can still exist.”

  After a long hug, she looked up at him. “Let’s just go away and get hitched,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like our parents will ever complain.”

  “Not a chance,” he snickered. “I want to show off my beautiful bride to everyone.”

  ~~~

  It was the most beautiful experience when Bill Stryker and Eunice Giles exchanged vows in the presence of family—except for Bill’s two daughters—and close friends. During the simple ceremony, Eunice’s proclamation of love for her new husband silenced the crowd.

  And then it was Bill’s turn. He looked straight into Eunice’s eyes and vowed, “I love you, Eunice. I mean…I really, really love you.” He grabbed both her hands into his. “And you’ll never hear words more honest or important than those coming from my lips.” He half-shrugged. “The rest is no more than white noise that fills the space around us.”

  The entire room sighed.

  “Time stands still whenever I’m near you, my love,” Bill went on. “But when I check my watch, I realize that the world has completed countless rotations without me ever feeling the movement beneath my feet. I walk on air around you. And you magnify all the goodness in me, making me a better man than I’d ever dreamed possible. That’s always been your greatest gift to me. Like a magnet, you draw out the very best in me, Eunice…and I’m so grateful to realize it.” He kissed her hand. “You came into my life just in time. Thank you for that.”

  “Just in time,” Eunice repeated, and wiped her eyes over Bill’s sincere proclamation of love.

  Before the pastor could even pronounce them man and wife, the older couple’s passionate kiss told the world that they’d finally become one.

  For the best man’s toast, Eunice’s son, Jim, recited his heartfelt gift:

  “Crossroads of Love

  “Two roads began at separate points

  in a time called long ago

  To wonder then where they would lead

  was a fate for God to know.

  “Each guided children down their paths

  of goodness, hope and love

  with nothing but the light that shone

  from heaven up above.

  “The obstacles, the bumps and turns

  which stood in both their ways

  were merely just a set of tests

  that led to better days.

  “The rains would pass, the winds subside

  and with their labor done,

  two roads would stop and take the time

  to watch the setting sun.

  “But God had other plans in mind:

  their trips had just begun.

  Two roads began at separate points,

&
nbsp; but now those roads are one.”

  After a sweet kiss, Eunice and her new husband shared their first dance as man and wife. A circle formed around them, loved ones swaying back and forth. As the final note faded into the distance, Bill and Eunice continued to dance for a few moments more—lost together in the silence.

  Applause rang out, prompting them to kiss again.

  During one of the night’s many love ballads, Eunice danced with her grandson, Richard.

  “I’m so happy for you and Bill,” he said. “I really am.”

  She peered into his sad eyes. “Getting older only means better choices,” she whispered, adding a wink. “…and second chances, Richard.”

  He nodded, politely.

  “So Rose couldn’t make it to the wedding?” she asked.

  Richard shrugged. “She sends her best, Grandma, but she’s finishing up a business deal that’s required her to be there in person.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no need for apologies, sweetheart. It’s just too bad,” Eunice said.

  “I suppose,” Richard mumbled—just as the song ended.

  Eunice watched him walk away, thinking, There’s nothing worse than a neglected heart.

  Bill appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her hand, yanking her back into the magical night that was before them. “We’ve been summoned to take pictures,” he told her.

  Hand-in-hand, they headed out on the ship’s deck to take wedding photos, and paused at the hall mirror. “Look at us,” Bill said, “aren’t we the pair to beat a full house?” The wrinkles, crow’s feet and paunch midsections could not distract from their glowing smiles. He squeezed her tight. “Until you,” he told Eunice, “my heart was known to no one.”

  Bill and his lovely bride were in the springtime of their love and celebrated the fact with a long, wet kiss.

  ~~~

  “Are you happy?” Bill asked Eunice one morning, as they cuddled in bed.

  She looked into his eyes and decided that there was no better time than the present. “I can’t remember ever being happier,” she said.

  He sighed, pleased with her reply.

  “Though there is one thing that’s eating at me something terrible,” she confessed.

  “And what’s that?” he asked, surprised. He sat up straight, preparing to spring into action.

  “I can’t tell you how much it bothers me that your daughters didn’t make it to our wedding, Bill,” she said. “And that they’re not a part of your life…of our lives.”

  As though someone had just taken the air out of him, Bill collapsed onto his back. After a few moments of thought, he confessed, “As you know, the girls’ mother passed away some years ago and the tragedy of our parting was that we never really knew each other. I’m ashamed to admit it, but she was an incubator and nanny to my children. I didn’t have time for her. I provided for my family, but we lived separate lives. By the time we had children, I learned that I didn’t have much time for them either. We had two daughters, with just as many houses, but we shared nothing.”

  “And you don’t think that can change, Bill?” Eunice asked.

  A few moments elapsed before he answered. “I make sure my girls are taken care of, but I really can’t imagine that they’d want anything more than money from me.” He shook his head. “And I don’t blame them in the least. It’s my fault completely.”

  “Well, we’re just going to have to do something about that now, aren’t we?”

  Bill’s brow wrinkled. “Eunice, I’m not sure they’d…”

  “Nonsense,” Eunice said, “they’re your family…our family. I’ll invite them to spend Christmas with us. It’ll be wonderful. Just you wait and see.”

  He kissed her. “Okay,” he said, tentatively. “We’ll see.”

  Gooseberry Island

  *

  In 1991, I served in Operation Desert Storm as a squad leader of a U.S. Army Military Police Unit (14th MP Brigade, 7th Corps) in Iraq. By being there in person, my perspective of the Persian Gulf War was very different from the sanitized version CNN opted to show the rest of the world. Men died and children were slaughtered by land mines—just some of the evidence of the hefty costs associated with freedom.

  After the hundred hours of ground fighting in the Middle East, friends were made and lost, battles were waged on an internal front, and promises were broken. Though most soldiers returned home visibly whole, what they brought with them as a result of experimental vaccines, radioactive depleted uranium and pent-up rage was nearly impossible to carry. It was a just cause; babies were being tossed from hospital incubators in Kuwait. Our problem was the way our own government chose to complete the deal. The lack of treatment was criminal.

  As time built scar tissue and I contemplated the brutal desert experience, I realized that not all war wounds are visible, nor are they all suffered on the battlefield. War is a state of mind and a man cannot live in two worlds at one time. Eventually, there has to be a truce.

  In the end, the human trauma and tragedy I witnessed helped to define who I am, while also inspiring me to live my life to the fullest. But I was one of the lucky ones.

  I chose the novel’s excerpt because it brings the reader right smack into the middle of the real war; a combat-weary soldier returning home. Trust me, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can be concealed well, but it refuses to be ignored. Depression, anxiety and difficulties transitioning back into normal life have often proven too much for many soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines—who have inevitably taken their own lives.

  Gooseberry Island, and the excerpt I’ve chosen, is intended to bring awareness to the weight that many veterans carry. One way to bring about real change is to share knowledge and educate people; and the effects of war are a lifelong nightmare.

  *

  David was walking with his friend Al on the beach. They were joking and laughing. “I think I’m pregnant,” Al said, rubbing his belly. “The blood tests should be in soon though.” He shook his head. “There were so many guys at the party I’m not even sure who the father is.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. While a cloud of dust was still settling, David screamed, “I’m sorry, Big Al. It should have been me.”

  Al shook his head again, but this time there was a strange look in his eyes. Sympathy, I think.

  Al pointed to David’s left leg, which was now a bloodied stump. “Your turn, McClain,” he said and started laughing.

  David awakened, clutching his chest and trying to breathe. He jumped out of bed on two healthy legs and fought desperately to fill his lungs with air and hang onto life. His head wasn’t pounding. Rather, it was growing numb with a thousand confusing thoughts—a tornado of doom and gloom creating fragments of hideous pictures with just enough reality to be absolutely and completely terrifying. His palpitating heart was racing so fast that his extremities—hands, feet, fingers, toes, and even the tip of his nose—began tingling. Pure and relentless panic was rushing from his core, filling his entire body with a fight or flight response from something that existed only in the darkest recesses of his mind. It was self-preservation in the face of peace.

  An hour later, David was sitting on a gurney. The balding emergency room doctor entered, holding a chart and smiling. “I have great news. We can’t find any evidence of a heart attack. It was probably just a panic attack.”

  “Can’t be…” David said.

  “These attacks are sometimes caused by the building tensions of everyday life,” the doctor explained. “Anything could have triggered the attack.” He studied David’s face. “Anything new going on—something that might be causing lots of stress?”

  David shook his head, playing the dunce.

  “I think you should go talk to someone,” the doctor advised.

  “I’ll go see my primary care physician tomorrow,” David said.

  “That’s great, but I was thinking more along the lines of a therapist.”

  David looked at the man in
disbelief. As the doctor left the room, David collapsed back onto the gurney, placed his hands over his eyes and let out a wounded grunt.

  David pulled the shiny Mustang into his driveway. He stepped out of the car and watched as the Welcome flag waved in the wind. From the greeting sign and lawn ornaments in the front of the house to the pristine patio out back, it was the perfect picture of happy, middle class America. Looking at the manicured lawn and his mother’s flawless flowerbeds, David reached his front stairs and snickered. What bullshit! He slammed the door behind him.

  ~~~

  A full week had passed. David sat quietly, staring out the kitchen window and way beyond whatever lay in the yard. Not so much a dreamer any more, he was reliving the same nightmares over and over and over.

  It only took a second to change the outcome of an entire lifetime. He thought about the Afghani boy who’d been beaten to death. …or several lifetimes.

  David continued to stare out his kitchen window. My life is in complete chaos, but maybe if I tried talking to Lindsey? He shook his head. No, he thought, it wouldn’t be fair.

  Though distinct, the front door softly closed. Uninterested, he continued to stare into nothingness. He smelled Lindsey’s perfume wafting through the stale air before he ever saw her. He looked up to find her standing in the middle of his kitchen. Her eyes were filled with tears, the left one purple and black. She’s been hurt, he thought, and took a deeper look into her eyes. But I’ve hurt her more. There was a piece of him, a very subdued piece that was beyond excited to see her again. And then reality hit. I wish she didn’t see me like this.

  “I thought you were supposed to meet me at our bench?” she said sadly.

  A dream from a long-forgotten time, he thought, shrugging. “Sorry,” he whispered.