9:41 (17 page)

“Take it easy, man”, I said, trying to calm a new re-excited Bob, “you're getting all steamed up again”.

“Yeah, I guess I do lose my head about it, … but why not, … I just can't understand it! Here I go away to build up enough money to get married, and she does this to me! That's what really hurts, … to think that she would do this”, he said pounding his fist on the bar, his teeth gritted.

“Now wait a minute, … be reasonable. What did she do? She's lonely and she has some fun and she gets a little unsure of her love. You were gone for months, you weren't around, and she began to enjoy going with the crowd again. Now you're back and she is really confused, what's wrong with that? Would you rather she lied to you?”

“No, but …”

“No, but you don't want to hear the truth either. You don't really care about her, it's just the idea that she could throw you, the great Bob, over. If you were in her shoes and felt the way she does you'd probably tell her to go to hell and then you'd be sorry. So she's mixed up, … at least she's big about it. Give her some time, everything will straighten out”.

“But what she did to me …”

“You don't own her you know! When someone loves you, it's supposed to be wonderful. She doesn't owe you anything. She doesn't have to love you. If she does it's great. If she doesn't, that's, … well, I don't know. Just give her time, she probably still loves you, … just a little mixed up”.

“That's what she said, … give her a little time to figure it out. But I can't, not after what she's done”.

“Oh, shit, … she hasn't done a God damn thing. Jesus, sometimes you're really thick headed. You're only going to ruin something that both of you wanted. She got a little doubtful, … but now you're back to reassure her and everything will turn out all right—if you don't mess it up with your big mouth”.

“You really think so, … I mean really, … you're not just giving me a line of shit to calm me down”.

“That's a nice thing to say. I get out of bed to meet you in the middle of the night, and you tell me it's a line of shit …”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I don't know what I'm saying. You really think it'll work out though, hanh?”

“Sure. She'll see that going out with the gang is kicks, but after all is said and done it means nothing. Love and all that is worth more than a few laughs. Just give her a little time”, I said belaboringly, hoping to have made Bob a bit calmer.

“I told her I never wanted to see her again”, he said angrily, now reliving the scene with her. “I told her that if she could do that to me I didn't want to have anything to do with her”.

“Don't be so God damned silly. It won't kill you to give it a little time. What the hell is the difference? Besides, you'll be just as hurt if you don't …”

“What d'ya mean?”

“That if she leaves you, you'll be hurt whether or not you try to win her back, so you might as well try. At least you have a chance then. After she comes around a little bit your love will be twice as strong. Women are funny sometimes that way. They say things they don't mean. Just let it ride kind of easy, that's all. Forget about it, go out and have a good time, she'll fall in love with you and forget about the gang quick. Besides, if she doesn't come around its better to happen now than if you were married … no?”

“I guess, but, … ahh shit, man. It really knocked me out when she told me …”

“Of course it did, but what the hell are you, a love dictator? I can't see you letting your ego stand between the two of you. I'm not saying it's all your fault or anything. You're right, and I can see how you'd get very angry, … but what the hell. Her only sin was of unsureness. Give her a chance. If you really love her you will”.

“But after what she did”.

“Forget it. She didn't do anything that doesn't happen every day. Why don't you go home and sleep on the idea of just giving it a chance?” Joe the bartender moved down toward us. “Give me the check for both of us”, I said. “I've got to get home”, I said, turning to Bob. “I have to get up early”.

“Okay. I'll take the check. I'm staying for another drink anyway”.

“I'll stay and have one with you”.

“No, I'd rather be alone. It's okay. Just let me be by myself for a while. I'll be all right. I'll call you in the morning”.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, go on, go ahead back to bed”, he said trying to smile, “and thanks a lot”.

“Forget it. I couldn't let you down. Try to think about what I said and about the whole thing a little more calmly”.

“Yeah, I'll try”, he said as he twisted to Joe the bartender and ordered another drink.

“Good night”, I called back as I pulled open the door and was greeted by a misty wind.

“Good night”, said Bob.

“Good night now”, said the bartender.

The air in Julius's was filled with that faint scent of stale beer, perfume, summer heat, sawdust and people that always seems to hang from the walls of a bar, just like the dust encrusted derbies that hang from Julius's wall and watch, and have been hanging and have watched generations go by. Those derbies have witnessed many a glance furtively thrown from one table to another; have watched many a couple walk out to some quiet rendezvous; have been there long enough to have seen the time when this here and now old woman sitting at a corner-table with grey straggly hair, a lined face bereft of ambition, of color, or beauty, the calloused hands, stood young and proud in the midst of the jubilant crowd, with her now tired head thrown high, her now retreating breast flaunting itself in front of the mustachioed young artist. The Derbies can remember how they left that evening, gay and happy, joking, perhaps just a little too full of drink, with shining eyes, flared nostrils … the Derbies witness now an old woman, shunned by other jubilant young, waiting, for whom, for what.

Suddenly, as if from a long forgotten dream, a face flashed before me, only to disappear past me. I twisted curiously to see this face that came from my long forgotten dream. Who is that face? Who? Gloria. Of course, Gloria, I said to myself as I remembered now. She looks at and past me, our eyes meet and there is something long forgotten, unconsciously rekindled. How many times, when she had been with Bob, had I looked into those same eyes, with the same expression in them, and now, how strange to look into them and have them turn away from me in unknowingness, as if I were encased in a wall, peering out from a hole, seeing, but being unseen. Her eyes return to mine. Now narrowing as they peer intently into mine, as if to discover the secret that we two share but can't remember.

“Don”, she exclaimed, surprising herself with the recollection. “It's Don Wingate, isn't that it?”, she said smiling as she approached my table.

“Yes, Gloria, that's it. How've you been?”, I said, half rising.

“Oh fine, just fine, and you?”, she said with a pleasantly surprised smile playing on her face. “Oh, I haven't seen you in, must be about two years. What've you been doing? Still at Bradbury's?”

“Yes”, I replied, “still at Bradbury's. How did you remember that I worked at Bradbury's?” I asked curiously. “It's been such a long time”.

“I've kept check on you, so you better be careful from now on”, she said jokingly.

“No, seriously, it's surprising that you remember where I work after all this time. I can't remember where you worked”.

“Oh, I've changed jobs since then. I'm with an advertising agency uptown now, Mill, Tonne & Shely. Ever hear of them?”

“No, I can't say that I have. Please sit down, … have a drink”, I said, rising to offer her a chair.

“Well, only one”, she said as I pushed her chair a little closer to the table. “I'm supposed to be with that short fellow over at the bar. The one with the glasses”.

“He won't mind us having one drink, for old times' sake, will he?”. I looked to the bar and saw a short fellow facing us from the bar, talking to another fellow.

“No, and even if he does, what the hell. I'd like a Tom Collins”.

“Ray”, I called to the waiter. “A Tom Collins. Gee, it's nice to see you again”, I said to Gloria. “I've thought about you many times, you, and Bob, and … hope you don't mind my mentioning Bob”.

“No, I don't mind. It used to hurt at first when anyone mentioned him, but now …” She shrugged, letting her voice trail off as she let a match book slip through her hand, and then reflected upon it as it lay on the table. She looked up at me inquisitively, her head tilted a little to one side. “Does he still work with you at Bradbury's?”

“No, he left about five months ago”, I replied. “He works for some foreign import company downtown now. I talk to him all the time though, you know, still buddy buddy. That's why I think of you, … we used to have a lot of kicks when we went out on double dates and all”.

“Yes, I know”, she said somewhat sadly. Her eyes were alight with a melancholy glow. You could see Bob's face in front of her.

“Here's your drink”, I said as the waiter placed a frosty glass in front of her. “I'm sorry if I make any sad memories come back”.

“They're not sad, Don. It's sad that they are only memories though. Is he still, well, is he still the same Bob?”

“Yes, the same Bob”.

“Is he engaged or married or anything?”, she asked, trying not to show her inquisitiveness.

“No. He's going out with a couple of girls. Doesn't want to be tied down anymore he says. How about yourself. Engaged?”

“No, I haven't found anyone who was worth getting engaged to—except you, of course”, she said trying to joke.

“I'm already spoken for. I don't think Bea'd appreciate my getting engaged to you too”.

“Are you and Bea engaged?” she asked surprised.

“For a couple of months now. Don't know when we'll get married, but maybe soon”.

“That's terrific”, she said, smiling pleased. “Give Bea my regards when you see her, won't you?”. She sat reflecting on things past.

“Sure”, I said to break her melancholic mood. “It's too bad we can't all get together again for a date some one of these days”.

“That would be nice, but you know how Bob is. He'd probably get angry if you even asked him. He was angry as hell the last time we went out wasn't he? Remember that night?”, she asked shaking her head slowly and sadly. “It was a week after the big night when I told him … I don't even remember what I told him anymore, but he sure blew up. When we went out on that last date, the four of us, he just sat and brooded. Every once in a while he'd calm down and be himself for a couple of minutes and everything was so wonderful …” Gloria now reflected afar off, away from the conversation. Perhaps she again saw herself in Bob's arms, dancing. She stopped, then took a long draught from her drink, and looked across the table at me with a pathetic, halfhearted smile playing across her lips. “He ended that night when we went home telling me it would never work out. He said it would be better if I kept going out with the gang, having fun, and didn't worry about him. He was such a thick head. That was the last time I spoke with him. It seems like a nightmare I had a million years ago”. She stared at the matches on the table.

“It does seem a long time”, I reflected. “Oh, oh, here comes the little guy you're supposed to be with”, I said as I caught sight of the short collegiate looking chap with heavy-framed glasses, walking toward our table.

“Say Gloria”, he said inquiringly, “I don't mean to butt in, but did you even think that I might be worrying about you? Ted, Ted Knowles is the name”, he said looking to me and extending his hand.

“Hi, Don Wingate, old friend of the family”, I said as I gripped his hand. “Sorry to have held Gloria up so long. We were just reminiscing. Sit down, won't you?”

“Thanks. I've heard about you”, he said, pulling a chair out and sitting down. “Gloria has mentioned you and the rest of the gang she used to pal around with quite a lot. All she talks about is the good times she had at this place or that place, with you and … oh what the hell is his name?” he said snapping his fingers as he lowered his head and brought his hand to his temple in a contemplative position. “Oh yes, Bob, Bob Keating, wasn't that it, Gloria?”

I looked at Gloria, who looked at me, a trifle flustered at the mention of her past life from the lips of a new friend.

“Yes, that's right, Ted, Bob Keating”. She rested back into her chair and just stared across the table at me, not that she saw me. It was Bob that she saw through me, in me, because of me. We all sat and talked for a while, and had another round of drinks.

“Well Gloria, let's go”, said Ted getting up, “we've got that party to go to. Nice meeting you, Don, perhaps we'll see each other again”.

“Perhaps”, I said as I raised myself partially out of the seat to shake his hand. Gloria got up, and Ted helped her with her jacket.

“Nice seeing you again, Don. Give everyone my love, won't you?”, she said as she buttoned the jacket. She turned and they went out. Ted took her arm and they disappeared through the door, under the watching derbies.

“Sure, sure I will”, I said half to myself as I sat down again and reflected on the now closed door. “Bob'll sure as hell be surprised to hear I met Gloria”, thought I to myself. I shrugged and called the waiter.

The static in the earpiece was pulsated by the blaring of a buzzer. Finally there was a click in the mechanism and the other phone was lifted.

“Hello Bob”, I said.

“Hi, Don, how's the boy”, said the familiar voice.

“Ok, how're you doing?”

“Not bad. The usual kicks now and then. Where are you?”