Not Far From Golgotha

by Richard Futch

  As Billy approached Ebenezer patted the table gingerly. He was obviously well nigh inebriated. “Well, well, well, look what the cat drug in,” the old man said. His eyes were almost as cloudy and red as Billy remembered them being the first night. And even though Ebenezer didn’t seem happy, it was clear he was glad to see Billy. “Din’t expect ya t’night.”

  Billy pulled back a chair and sat down. “Me either, but I didn’t feel like going home. I figured you might be around.”

  “And ya’re goddamn right, boy. I din’t feel like goin home.” Ebenezer’s eyes did have some disturbing quality that was just out of reach of a suitable definition. His speech was slurred but coherent. A weird déjà vu passed over Billy and his skin crawled.

  “What you been up to today?” he ventured.

  Ebenezer waved his hand, quickly dismissing the question. “Shit and shinola,” he returned. “But no need ta get inta that now. You jes gettin off work?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Billy couldn’t hide the disquiet in his voice, and was glad the old man hadn’t appeared to catch it. Ebenezer was staring at him or over him, Billy couldn’t be quite sure which. “What’s that you’ve got there, a stein?” he asked.

  Ebenezer nodded his head vigorously. “Yep! ‘Tis. Bought this bastard over in Germany years back. I brin it alon for the ride ever once in a while.” He belched loudly and wiped his mouth.

  “How’s the shoulder?”

  Ebenezer looked at it for a second before patting it gingerly. “Right as rain, boy. Right as rain.” He bit his lip and looked away. Billy chose quiet, contenting himself to nurse his beer as he regarded the old man. Ebenezer nodded his head as if in agreement to something Billy hadn’t heard, and pursed his lips. “I b’lieve I got one for ya, boy,” he finally spit out.

  “What’s that?”

  Ebenezer belched. “Story, Billy. I tole you I’d have’ta go way back, but I think I got one.”

  Billy leaned back in his chair, feeling the one short leg displace the weight unevenly. He believed he could live with it. “Let’s have it,” he said. Ebenezer was under some sort of strain; that much was obvious. The particulars were hidden; it was best to wait and see.

  Ebenezer cleared his throat mightily and nodded again. He scratched at his neck as he began. “I doan ‘member where this one’s from. ‘S got no histr’y. Maybe it’ll stan on its own goddamn legs well enough.” He bobbed his head slightly and with no further ado, began.

  “Was a boy named John Delphia had a high school prom. Had a pretty little girlfrien named Mona. Couln’t sleep most nights jus thinkin ‘bout what was under ‘er skirts. Beautiful girl…” he confirmed and hesitated. He flipped the lid on the stein and took a gulp.

  “Was a problem though,” Ebenezer continued. “Money. Johnny Boy had wheels, but the gas, tuxedo, pi’tures, dinner and ever other rotten thing was gonna run ‘im over the edge. Asked the old man for a little extra cash, and even though ‘e got some, things was still gonna be tight. They hain’t been goin out long and ‘e wanted ta impress ‘er, ya know?” Billy nodded his head.

  “Well, the Big Day comes, and ‘e’s left sittin diggin through the phone book, tryin ta find a suitable place, somethin tasteful, without a huge price tag ta match. Well, ‘e did what’as right. Most times ya can get a pretty good idea ‘bout a rest’rant by their ad in the Yellow Pages. Sure enough, all the classy joints was way outta range.

  “Then ‘e comes across an ad right near the bottom a the page, some medium-level spread with Chinese artwork spread ‘round a catchy name. Way out on Buchanan road, pract’cally the rim a town, but the ad assures reas’nable prices. John thinks back a bit,” and Ebenezer placed his hand on his brow as if remembering himself, “and recalls seein the place one night out cruisin and drinkin with his buddies.” Ebenezer looked at Billy as if to satisfy himself that his audience was attentive. Billy nodded as the old man took another gulp of whatever bubbled in the depths of the stein.

  Ebenezer smacked his lips before continuing.

  “’E calls ‘er, tells ‘er ‘e’ll pick ‘er up ‘round 7:30. ‘Perfect,’ she says and ‘e hangs up after a coupla minutes feeling like a dog with two dicks.” Ebenezer caught Billy’s quick bark of laughter and wagged his finger as if to drive home the metaphor.

  “Leaves the house and works up the balls for the one stop ‘forehan. A convience store down the way where ‘e mills around aimless for a bit. Gotta fake I.D. ‘e does. Well, finally ‘e grabs a sixer and the clerk, who’s from Afganistan or Lebanon or wherever the hell it is them comp’nies find ‘em, don’t even ask for the damn thin. Jus rings it up and throws it ina bag. Takes most a thirty seconds and John’s off like a shot. Already has a woody ‘bout as hard as this table top,” Ebenezer said and knocked loudly several times. He talked faster now, and even though the narrative was slurred and rambling at times, his eyes held testiment he’d reached the Zone.

  “Pulls up at ‘er house, nice place on a nice street, the kinda place ‘e dreams ‘bout ever once in a while, a carrot held out in front a his face while he puffs along behin. ‘E knocks on the door and Mona’s dad lets ‘im in. A course, she’s not ready yet; wouln’t be correc', so John’s left sittin on the couch shootin the shit with ‘er parents. Usual rigmarole; Where ya’ll goin? When ya gonna be back? All the bullshit that goes alon with tryin ta get a lil tail. But it ain’t so long when a shadow kinda falls across the livin room from the top a the stairs and there she is. Christ Almighty…fit ta kill. Pract’cally turns ‘im ta stone; ‘is whole body this time. Suddenly the room’s real quiet and everbody jus lays back and waits as she flows down the stairs. Then there’s the camera and ‘bout a hundred flash bulbs afore they’re allowed ta go.” Ebenezer stopped and wrinkled his nose in his familiar way, seconds later clearing it like a bull elephant leading a charge. Another massive draught followed the others, and as he set the stein on the table he motioned for another fill-up. Billy quickly drained what little he had left. Ebenezer pushed the stein to the corner of the table, pinning Billy with a steely glare. Once again, seemingly by magic, the old man did not look as drunk as when he’d begun. Billy set his own empty mug close by.

  “Pretty soon they’re in ‘is car, wavin goodbye ta ‘er folks. Radio way down so’s not ta cause a fuss, and jus outta the driveway Mona’s got ‘er hand restin high an pretty on John’s thigh. And ‘im, the whole time, jus grinnin like the Cheshire Cat and wavin, wavin. By the time they make the Stop sign at the end a the street the radio’s up, blastin Top 40, and ‘er hand ‘as moved up further.

  “She wants ta know where they’re goin and ‘e says it’s secret. A true pillar of masculinity. ‘E takes off and—” Ebenezer stopped, turning his full attention to Shelly who stood right over Billy’s shoulder with a pitcher of beer in her hand. “Oh now, thank ya my dahlin,” he drawled, reaching over to pat her closest hip, his attitude once more along the lines of a grandfather to his favorite grandchild. “Ya’re the best a the best, my girl,” he said with genuine honesty.

  “Com’on, Eb. You say that shit to everybody,” and she mocked him with a wink in Billy’s direction.

  “No, no, no,” he countered. “Only m’ favorites.” She smiled back at the old man, offering his forehead a pat before filling Billy’s mug.

  “Thank you, Shelly,” Billy said, hoisting it in salute.

  “It’s a living,” she answered and walked back to the bar.

  Ebenezer looked at Billy, his eyes slightly askew, disoriented. “Where was I?” he asked, peering self-consciously now into the depths of his stein as if searching for whatever he’d lost in there.

  Billy stepped in. “They were on their way to the restaurant.”

  “Right...yeah. Okay.” Ebenezer raised the stein and drank again, heavily. “They talk the whole way over, laughin…exited, happy ta be t’gether. Playful touchin goin on here and there…sa much so, in fact, that John drives straight past the place, only catchin it outta the corner a his eye as they fly by. ‘E slows down a
t a farmhouse not far down the road and drives back, slower this time. The place is dark, and John feels Mona draw up jus a hint. This the right place? she wants ta know.

  “The only light outside is trained from a pole near the street ta a small but ‘laborate sign positioned d’rectly over the doorway. There’s no other car in the parkin lot.

  “‘The Crimson Dragon?’ Mona asks.

  “’Uh huh,’ John replies, kinda spooked ‘imself. Not afraid a the place, mind ya; but a the potential for disaster ‘e can already sense. R’members the place bein a lil better lit when ‘e seen it b’fore. Lookin ‘round at the deserted parkin lot forms a tight little knot a contention in his belly. Because the guy ‘e’d talked ta asked for reservations. Well…” and Ebenezer eerily melted to the point of detachment, no longer part of the actually telling. Billy took another sip and said nothing. The Wurlitzer in the corner clicked, slapping down a 45 on the warped turntable, and moments later the slow, ghostly anthemic Wreak of the Edmund Fitzgerald slipped out of the long-suffering speakers.

  Ebenezer coughed away a dryness that had developed in his voice. “John looked at Mona, ‘fraid a the expression ‘e feared findin. Luckily, ‘e did not. She still looked radiant, happy. She even says, ‘Looks like we’re the first ones here,’ and they both ‘ave a laugh over that.

  “When they walk through the front door John calms down. The inad’quate lightin in the parking lot is compensated fully here inta a peaceful, romantic atmosphere. Place’s done up in a jungle Buddhist style, Birds a Paradise wreathin the arched entrance ta the dinin room, a magnif’cent fresh water ‘quarium, brimmin ta bust with the biggest and brightest Koi an goldfish either one a ‘em ‘as ever seen. Soft, fluted music drifts on the scented air; a sensual drift risin up from lighted candles burnin on every table. An while they’re takin it all in, a very regal Chinese fig’re, festooned in formal wear an a toothy smile, steps outta the shadows in greetin. Needless ta say, John’s nerves die down, and if ‘e coulda managed it, woulda broke ‘is arm pattin ‘isself on the back. Lookin at Mona only confirms ‘is good taste.

  “As the waiter leads ‘em ta a secluded booth in the back a the empty room, John squeezes ‘er hand, feelin ‘is class ring, somethin ‘e’d offered and she’d accepted a month or so b’fore. Made everthin official. She was really ‘is girl. They sit down, took the menus from the host, noddin ‘yeah’ they would be int’rested in a bottle a compl’mentry wine.” Ebenezer slapped the table lightly, and he blinked his eyes trying to clear them. It was now plainly obvious how drunk he was. His speech was getting worse, and Billy wondered if he’d be able to finish the story at all. Ebenezer turned a bleary eye on him and a wan smile found its way out from behind the beard. “Well b’ now,” he went on, “John figures ‘isself the King of Sheba.” He paused, blinking his eyes. “Or is that Queen?…fuck it, doan matter…” He shook his head. “’E gets the free wine, no filly fuckin around with I.D.’s. A course, it’s obvious ta see ‘e’s a real man, and lookin ‘cross the table at Mona ‘e knows she sees it too. Some nights the world really turns yer way, ‘e thinks.

  “After pourin ‘em each a glass, the waiter dissappears ta the kitchen. John watches Mona drink, likin how the ring catches the light, likin the way it winks back at ‘im. ’E reaches over and grabs ‘er hand, tells ‘er how much ‘e loves ‘er, all that clap-trap…” and for a moment Ebenezer comes completely unglued and stares out at nothing at all. Billy contents himself to wait. “They look like two pigeons trillin it up in a coop,” Ebenezer finally says before taking another huge gulp and wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Perty soon the bottle’s half done, or” he paused, “half-full if ya’re an optimist. I sit the fence m’self,” he admitted as if only half aware of what he was saying. “By the time the waiter comes back they’re both talkin and laughin, havin a helluva time. ‘Ave hardly looked at the menu, and when the waiter asks ‘em if they’re ready ta order they both look at each other and damn near bust a gut. John asks the waiter what he suggests, and without a second’s hes’tation Charlie Chan says the House Special. One order, two people; ‘s gotta lil everthin. John looks at Mona. Why not? he asks and she jus smiles and giggles.” Ebenezer fanned his hand out and pointed. “So off goes Mr. Chan,” he said.

  “An when ‘e leaves,” he continued, the drag in his voice becoming more ponderous, “down goes the res a the wine. John drains what’s left outta Mona’s lipstick-stained glass and they go on, not carin, not even aware they’re still the only customers. Jus as if they was the last one’s on earth. Young love…young love,” and in that second Billy saw Ebenezer’s eyes glaze over again, although also at that very instant the old man turned to examine something on a months’-old poster hanging on a nearby wall. Billy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Mona fin’lly ‘as ta go ta the can. As she stands John reaches over and pinches ‘er ass. She slaps ‘is ‘and away, warnin ‘im she’s ‘bout ta piss ‘er pants. The only sound in the dinin room, aside their own clatter, is the feeble whiff a background music driftin through as if only half on its way a gettin somewhere. The wine’s stronger than they expected. She laughs a lil loud and ‘eads off through the arched entrance t’wad the bathroom. John sits still, watchin ‘er go, tryin ta get a better focus by blinkin ‘is eyes real fast, but it doan ‘elp. So ‘e shakes ‘is ‘ead, tryin ta loose the cobwebs. The alcohol’s gettin ‘im different, ‘e knows that much; ‘e’d only had one beer drivin over, and then two glasses here. Right? ‘E squints, sizin up the dark, unmarked bottle. Still a lot left. ‘E squints, tryin ta ‘member, tryin ta focus. ‘Ow much ‘ad ‘e ‘ad? Draws a blank and shakes ‘is ‘ead tryin ta get ‘is thinkin b’tween the lines. Even pushes ‘is glass a wine away.

  “Well, the longer ‘e sits there, the tighter ‘is pants seem ta get; the tighter ‘is collar seems ta get. ‘Is throat starts dryin up, ‘is tongue gets all knotty an full a hair. Actually takes an effort ta swallow. And as if this ain’t enough Mona still ain’t back. Seems like she’s been gone a long time too, though John cain’t ‘member exactly what direction she’d ‘eaded. ‘E tries checkin ‘is watch, sweat breakin out on ‘is fore’ead when he cain’t read it. ‘S’all jus fuzzy nonsense. ‘Is eyes start buggin outta ‘is head; ‘is chest hurts. Then, grad’ally, at first, the room slowly begins swimmin aroun, all the colors meltin t’gether, the archway by the front door droopin like it was made a rubber and needed ta be pressed back inta place.

  “By that time panic’s got ‘im, an the more frantic ‘e becomes, the less control ‘e ‘as. The already dim lights begin dimmin more.” Ebenezer halted to catch his breath. His eyes had a gloriously diabolical red hue; his head bobbed from left to right. If he knew this, he didn’t appear to care. Billy swallowed. He didn’t think Ebenezer had been drinking as much lately since he’d been on the pain medication, but tonight something had happened. Something, it appeared, the old man had been inexplicably unprepared for. Still, the story…. Billy watched as Ebenezer threw back his head for another gulp. He must have hit bottom because he set the stein down in a bizarre fury of defiance. Then he coughed loudly, once.

  He held up a finger that jittered and danced under its own volition. “Couln’t keep ‘is ‘ead off’n the table. Tryin ‘is best, it jus kep goin down, not a damn thin ‘e could do. When ‘e could fin’ly fight it no longer ‘e c’lapsed flat ‘cross the tablecloth, knockin over what was left a the wine, ‘earin it hit the floor and gurgle out the rest. ‘E ‘uz turned, facin the kitchen door, still conscious when it swung open. Still no Mona. Charlie Chan come back carryin a huge Sterlin silver platter, steam pourin out all ‘roun the edges a the muthafucker. As ‘e comes over John, laid out ‘cross the table, reg’sters the huge, toothy grin stretchin ‘cross the Chinaman’s face. But everthin ‘bout that grin is evil.

  “’Poison,’ John thinks. ‘Fuckin bastard poisoned us.’ But he cain’t do nothin. Charlie Chan reaches the table and John’s crumpled there, ‘is ears ringin like crazy. The
Chinaman bends down eye-level, still wearin the grin like a department store mannequin, an at first ‘is words are only ghostly sounds issuin from a darkened tunnel. But slowly, slowly, meanin does form, the words attain some distinction. An it’s the same thin over and over again. Jus two, simple words.

  “’House Special, House Special…’

  “John tries ta scream but his throat is closed, gettin tighter ever minute. The ringin in his ears is only canceled for a second by the sound a the platter bein set down. Then ‘e feels ‘is ‘air bein pulled and ‘is ‘ead jerked back, twistin ‘is neck. ‘E’s forced ta stare at the steamin platter as the lid comes off, straight through the cloud a steam at the almond-sprinkled meat. The smell is strangely, sickly, sweet. ‘Is eyes try ta put form ta image.

  “It’s the glint off the ring that fin’ly does it, reflectin from the overhead lights. Still shinin jus as perty as ever, but the finger and hand it’s attached ta is swollen from the heat a the oven, roasted clear up ta the elbow. The meat a Mona’s forearm has cracked in sev’ral long lines and John can smell the aroma comin from the creases. An as ‘e’s lyin there, pair’lized from both the poison and the smell a his lover’s flesh, the Chinaman draws out a long blade and begins the slow work a preparin dessert…” Ebenezer said, finishing the grisly tale with a cock-eyed look in Billy’s general direction. He puffed out his cheeks and blew hard, wiping one bleary, red eye with his left hand.

  “’S all right?” he mumbled right before his eyes shut.

  Chapter 61

  Billy checked his watch and saw that ten minutes had passed since Ebenezer finished the tale. He’d only intended on having a few beers with the old man, but several hours had passed by the wayside while they swilled beer and Ebenezer rambled. A dead, deep silence had followed since the story was told, and Billy sat musing over the old man’s departure from his usual methods. The story hadn’t had the ‘meat’ of the others he’d told; it had come across as stripped and fleshless as a desiccated corpse, but somehow more ghastly because of this rawness. Billy had never witnessed Ebenezer in such a state; never had the old man’s speech been so slurred or unwieldy. And this time, he really hadn’t seemed interested if Billy liked it or not. He’d simply poured the tale out and left it to fester in the open like an old, untreated wound. From the looks of it Ebenezer had consumed enough alcohol to make John Barrymore think twice.