Keeper

by Michael Garrett

  Flicking cigarette ashes out the window, Charlie stared blankly ahead. Nancy lifted the record albums from her lap and deposited them on the back seat. Well, Charlie had stopped complaining, she thought. Maybe that in itself was a positive sign that he would try to behave himself.

  Wayne Crocker motioned the elderly lady away and politely shook his head. “No, Ma’am,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Well, at least let me give you something for your trouble,” she urged.

  “No, Ma’am,” he repeated as he stooped to wipe grime from his hands on a clump of dead grass. “I was more than happy to help.”

  “Well, I certainly do appreciate it,” she thanked him again. “Lord only knows what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along. My husband is in the hospital, and I don’t know who else I could have called except one of those crooked garages. And you know how they take advantage of women.”

  “Ma’am, they’re not all bad. But that spare tire looks awful slick. You’d best replace it, first chance you get.”

  Wayne slammed the lid of the lady’s trunk but it refused to catch. Putting the weight of his whole body behind it, he finally forced the bulky lid shut.

  “Well, you have a nice weekend, you hear?” she called as she slid behind the steering wheel of the battered Mercury.

  “Same to you, Ma’am,” Wayne answered, wiping his hands a second time on a crumpled piece of discarded newspaper. He had just gotten off work at the Pell City Raceway service station when he spotted the woman stranded with a flat tire on Highway 231. Heavy-set with a rasping voice that grated on his nerves, she reminded him of his Aunt Mabel. But Wayne was always happy to lend a helping hand. That was part of living in the rural South—just about anyone qualified as a neighbor, and when a neighbor needed help, it was only natural to offer assistance.

  A cloud of exhaust smoke rolled from the Mercury’s rusted muffler as the woman cranked the engine. Wayne coughed, shaking his head in amusement as he crawled behind the wheel of his own ‘60 Chevy Impala. Time to get home and clean up for the weekend. An old friend, Barry Powell, would be visiting tonight to see Wayne’s new trailer. Well, it wasn’t exactly new—it was actually three years old—but it was new to Wayne.

  Its ignition straining, the Chevy finally rumbled to life, but idled roughly, jiggling Wayne’s faded high school graduation tassel that hung from the rearview mirror.

  Ahead the old woman accelerated and guided her dirty Mercury into the steady flow of traffic. Wayne grinned again and shook his head. The radio was blasting with the Dave Clark Five—he didn’t recognize the tune, but could tell he was going to like it. In fact, he was a fan of most British rock groups. Tapping out a steady rhythm on the steering wheel, he gazed ahead and steered the Impala toward home.

  God, it was nice to finally have his own place. Total privacy had been a dream for years. But now, with a good job and money to spend, many of the comforts he had always longed for were becoming a reality. And the trailer was the best purchase he’d ever made. It had been repossessed by a finance company from its original owner and Wayne had merely assumed payments. And though it sat empty collecting dust for months at the mobile home lot, Wayne cleaned and shined it both inside and out, until it looked like a flashy demonstrator model for Dixie Mobile Homes. He parked the trailer on his Dad’s property, just over the hill from his parents’ house. Fortunately, Dad owned 85 acres of prime farmland—more than enough to guarantee solitude. Soon as the trailer loan was paid off, he would offer to buy the land from his Dad. By then, he hoped his Dad would agree to just give it to him. In the meantime, he’d relax and just enjoy his newfound freedom.

  Tonight was only the beginning. Barry would be the first guest in his new home, and sooner or later, Wayne would have a girlfriend over. But no need to worry about that now. Tomorrow there’d be college football on television and there were no plans yet for Sunday. Funny … his weekends always seemed to be open.

  Winding his way along the main highway, Wayne turned onto the freshly paved road that skirted the tiny community of Selton. The pavement twisted through sparsely populated Alabama forest, crossed a new bridge over Kelley Creek, and led to still another small unimproved exit to his Dad’s property. The crude one-lane road paralleled the barbed-wire boundary of his father’s land.

  Wayne’s trailer rested beneath two tall oaks in shaded seclusion, approximately 500 feet down the private drive. Behind the trailer spread rolling pasture bordered east and west by relatively dense timberland. The trailer itself, blue and white, was a forty foot Clemson with two doors—an opening to the tiny living room area and a separate entrance to a back bedroom.

  Wayne brought the Chevy to a stop and as a cloud of dust blew past the car and settled over the trailer, he winced—it was going to be impossible to keep it clean.

  Jingling the keys in his right hand, he opened the door and stepped inside the miniscule living room. To the right, filling an entire end of the trailer, was a heavily padded sofa, upholstered in purple corduroy. In a window above was a small ventilation fan. A portable television stood on a small stand directly across from the door, and to the left was a miniature kitchen with a round oak table and two chairs.

  Wayne tossed his keys atop the TV set and stepped past the kitchen to the next room. Originally designed as a second bedroom, the space had been cleared for the storage of books, records, and a Philco hi-fi phonograph, though the entire room was barely larger than a standard walk-in closet. The room was a mess, as always.

  Next was a small bathroom with hardly enough space to stand between the commode and sink. Beneath a high window was a tiny bathtub. At the far end of the trailer was Wayne’s bedroom. He pulled off his shirt, collapsed on the bed, and lay thinking about what was available inside the refrigerator.

  As darkness settled over Opelika, Alabama, Charlie Barnett wheeled the Falcon into the crowded parking lot of a Tastee-Freeze fast food restaurant. Nancy confronted him immediately, an air of irritation in her voice.

  “Well, I certainly expected a better meal than this.”

  Charlie shut off the ignition and stared her down.

  “What else did you expect in this shit-hole town?” he growled. “Besides, who do you think I am, Howard Hughes? We can’t afford anything but hamburgers.”

  Nancy turned away, gazing wearily out the passenger window. Down the road, spectators were gathering outside a football stadium, awaiting tonight’s big game. Nancy’s thoughts returned to high school, when life was simple. Charlie had been more considerate then—why was he so negative now? Nothing ever pleased him anymore. He rarely took her out to eat, and now a perfect opportunity for a romantic meal was lost. If he would show only the slightest hope of changing, she might delay seeing an attorney. Perhaps a simple separation could save their marriage. But she couldn’t salvage the relationship on her own. Charlie would have to do his share.

  Charlie handed her a five dollar bill.

  “Here,” he said. “Get me two burgers, French fries and a—”

  “Are you an invalid? Why can’t you get it?” she interrupted loudly.

  Charlie shrugged and reached for the ignition.

  “No sweat off my back—I’m not hungry anyway,” he said. “If you don’t want anything, just forget it.”

  Snatching the money, Nancy got out of the car, slamming the door hard. With a scowl tarnishing her pretty face, she angrily trudged toward a group of Opelika teenagers and took her place in line behind two giggling cheerleaders outside the Tastee-Freeze order window.

  Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t stand much more of this. In the beginning, Charlie had been proud of her, but now she realized she had never been anything more than a trophy, just an attractive body he could display in front of his drinking buddies. Nancy was only a status symbol to him, and his feelings for her had been artificial all along. God, how it hurt to recognize the truth. Charlie had never really cared for her, and he certainly didn’t love her now.

&n
bsp; The two cheerleaders ahead were chattering away, expressing grave concern that tonight’s game might be rained out. Nancy reacted with a mood containing both annoyance and jealousy. It had been years since her own worries had been so trivial. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself haunted by a broken marriage. Divorce was still an ugly word here in the Bible Belt. She would be perceived as a tramp if she and Charlie split, and that didn’t seem fair at all. Although she hadn’t been a virgin on her wedding day, Charlie had been the only man she’d ever allowed to go “all the way.” Regardless, people were prejudiced against divorcées, just as she herself had once been. To outsiders, she would be a “spoiled” woman. But there was no point worrying about that now. There was no alternative but to accept her marriage as a failure. She would face public scorn when the proper time came. For the present, she would face reality and get matters under control, start her life anew. Both older and wiser, she would be more careful the next time she chose a husband. And she certainly wouldn’t let herself be influenced by others.

  Charlie was twisting the radio dial when she returned to the car with an armful of food and soft drinks. He took his own good time to hold the door open for her and offered little help in assisting her inside.

  “You picked a hell of a weekend to play goody-goody with your cousin,” he complained. “I just heard on the radio we’ve got a freeze warning up ahead.”

  The last of the weather forecast could barely be heard, its message distorted by crackles of interference. In the distance, faint flickers of lightning already marred the blackened skies.

  Nancy ignored his comment and tossed two hamburgers into his lap. A sprinkle of diced onions fell from the wax paper wrappings and tumbled between his legs. Charlie glared at her, but Nancy failed to notice, her attention glued to the stadium lights that now flared from nearby. Throngs of high school students were pushing through the open gates, most of them clutching umbrellas of various colors and sizes. A light mist had begun to fall but the football fans hardly seemed to care. After all, Nancy mused, tonight was the big night. From the chattering cheerleaders Nancy had learned that the Opelika Tigers’ undefeated season was on the line against last year’s state champions. Now, her memories returned to her own high school days and how, if she had gone out for cheerleading, she could have met so many more guys and her life could have turned out much differently.

  Just as Wayne downed a grilled cheese sandwich and a can of chili, he heard an automobile whine to a stop outside. Barry was on time, as usual. The loud “clump” of a car door rattled the windows of the trailer. Then came a gentle rap at the door.

  Hurriedly tugging at the doorknob, Wayne stood face to face with Barry Powell, a harsh cold wind flapping the latter’s overcoat.

  “Let me in, asshole—my dick’s freezin’ off!”

  Wayne laughed and stepped aside, bowing in comic salute to his friend as he welcomed him inside. “So?” Wayne countered. “You never use it anyway.”

  “Hey, my sex life is no joke,” Barry answered in mock seriousness. Then he burst into laughter, shed his coat and tossed it on the sofa. The two shook hands vigorously.

  “Long time, no see,” Wayne said. “And you’re looking good these days.” Barry’s appearance had undergone a dramatic change. He’d obviously lost weight, and the transformation was quite impressive. “Are you wearing contact lenses?”

  “Yep,” answered Barry. “They’re a bitch to clean, but I love ‘em. At the very least they give me more confidence. So, what have you been up to?”

  “Nothing unusual—just workin’ and payin’ the bills.”

  Barry glanced at the interior furnishings and nodded.

  “Hey, this is nice—real nice. When did you get it?”

  “Oh, about three weeks ago. It needs work, though. I’ve kept myself pretty busy since then.”

  Following a brief tour of Wayne’s new home, the two settled on the sofa.

  “So,” began Wayne as he brought two icy cans of Falstaff to life with a rusty opener. “How’s your love life?”

  Barry took a beer and leaned back, stretching his legs, then relaxing. “Probably about the same as yours,” he answered with a grin.

  “I wouldn’t wish that on anybody!” Wayne laughed. “But you’ve got no excuse—you’re a college man now.”

  “Shit,” Barry groaned. “College is only good for keeping my ass out of Vietnam. Besides, I’m not at the main campus. The extension center is not exactly a source of horny women looking for young studs on the loose.”

  Barry was in his second year of basic study at the University of Alabama’s Birmingham Extension Center. As it was essentially a commuter school, and most students were married and working, campus activities were nil. But soon, Barry would have enough credits to transfer to Tuscaloosa. That’s when life would begin all over for him.

  “But while we’re on the subject,” Barry continued, “I suppose I should clue you in on my big date tomorrow night.”

  “You?” Wayne responded in amazement. “A date with a female? Complete with tits and everything?”

  “Her name is Allison Winters and I met her through my cousin. Actually, it’s our third date.”

  Wayne sat in stunned silence. Although only casual acquaintances throughout high school, he and Barry had run into each other at a James Bond film in Talladega, after graduation, and their friendship blossomed thereafter. Both had always been social outcasts, and since becoming close friends, they had leaned on each other on numerous occasions for moral support following disastrous put-downs by callous females. Neither had ever managed a sustained relationship with a woman.

  With a touch of envy, Wayne asked, “Why haven’t I heard of Allison Winters before?”

  Barry took another sip of brew and placed the can lightly on the floor. “Because I only met her a few weeks ago and I haven’t seen you since September,” he said. “And, besides, it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Wayne roared. “For either of us to have three dates with the same woman is a major happening!”

  “I know, I know—sad fact of life, ain’t it?” Barry grinned. “But, like I said, she’s really nothing special. I enjoy going out with her, but I can’t see it developing much further. Honest.”

  Wayne shook his head, still dumbfounded. Of course, he realized, their luck with women had been bound to improve sometime—he and Barry couldn’t remain social recluses forever.

  “You and I should get together more often,” Barry continued. “But, you know, with football season and all, I haven’t missed a game yet. I guess you’ve heard by now—‘Bama’s taking on the ‘Huskers in the Orange Bowl.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know that already. But what about Allison Winters?”

  “Like I said, my cousin Pam introduced us,” said Barry. “And before you ask, the answer is no—I haven’t made any moves on her … yet.”

  “Do you think she’ll put out?”

  Barry drained the rest of his beer and chucked the can at an overflowing garbage pail. The metal container clattered noisily to the trailer’s tile floor.

  “Wayne, ?l’ buddy, they all put out sooner or later,” Barry said with a snide expression. “But for guys like you and me, it always seems to be later.”

  Hoping his jealousy didn’t show too much, Wayne shrugged. “At least you’ve got someone to attempt to screw. All I have is television fantasies.”

  “Hey, come on,” Barry consoled his friend. “Before you know it, you’ll be having orgies in this little love nest.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Wayne shrugged again. “I haven’t had a date since I moved in. In fact, I’ve only had three dates this whole year!”

  As impossible as it might seem, Wayne’s social life had worsened of late. Most of the women he met at the service station drove new GTO‘s or Mustangs. They were snobs, and looked down their noses at him. After all, what could a grease monkey have to offer? Prior to pumping gas he had worked at a lumber yard, a sod farm, and a temporary
construction project, all in virtual isolation from women.

  Although deferred from the draft for an asthmatic condition, Wayne was otherwise in excellent health. And he realized deep inside that he really wasn’t a bad looking guy. Perhaps he should have gone to college after all, even though he wasn’t the academic type. At least then his social opportunities would have improved.

  Barry quickly picked up on his friend’s depression.

  “Your day will come. We both know that,” he said.

  Wayne hung his head and stared at the floor.

  “Come on, man,” Barry continued. “If all goes well tomorrow night, I’ll ask Allison if she’s got a friend you can meet. Maybe we can double date next weekend.”

  Wayne slowly nodded. Not a bad proposition, he thought. “Where are you taking her?” he asked.

  “The Starlite Drive-In in Birmingham,” Barry answered. “I think ‘Shenandoah’ is playing. But who really gives a shit?”

  Both chuckled. Wayne snapped his fingers, the evening having passed quickly, and reached to turn on the television set. “Hey, we haven’t watched ‘UNCLE’ together in months,” he said as the nbc peacock slowly spread its wings.

  Barry’s attention was immediately riveted to “The Man From U.N.C.L.E." “Boy,” he said, “I’d love to see this in color sometime.”

  2

  Raindrops splattered against the Falcon’s windshield as the young Georgia couple passed through Child-ersburg, only twenty-five miles southwest of Selton. Charlie reached to the dash and twisted the windshield wipers on, gazing ahead at sheets of rain that slashed through the headlight beams. At his side, Nancy cried softly, her sniffles barely audible above the whine of the wipers.