Cool Shade (15 page)

Not someone for Max at all. Instead, it was a beggar, some poor street person with blood on his face, soaked to the skin. How had he gotten all the way out there? Why was he so far from downtown, from the shelter?

"Just a minute. Don't leave. I'll be right back."

She closed the door, then quickly gathered up some food, putting it in a grocery bag. She poured the rest of the coffee into a thermos and went back to the door.

"Here." She tried to hand the things to him, but he just stood there, frozen, shaking.

"There's a shelter downtown," she told him, pointing. "If you go there, they'll give you warm food and dry clothes."

"M-Max. N-need't-to't-talk to Max."

That voice. Familiar. She looked closer. "Eddie? My God, Eddie. Is that you?"

He nodded, his arms hugging his chest.

She unchained the door and pulled him inside.

"Max!"

Trying to support Eddie, she shouted over her shoulder in the direction of the upstairs bedroom. "Max, get up! Hurry!"

Eddie took two steps, then sank to the kitchen floor, water puddling around him.

Joan heard Max's footfall on the steps, then he appeared, eyes bleary and wide, wearing boxer shorts and a white T-shirt.

"What's going on?" His gaze went from her to his friend.

"Eddie. Oh Christ."

He crouched beside him, a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"I'll get a blanket," Joan said.

Slowly, Eddie's head came up, and Max saw the emptiness in his eyes.

His heart sank. No. Not again.

"Max."

"Hi, Eddie."

"I know you said you were through with me."

Max looked up at his wife who stood clutching a blanket in her arms. She bit her lip and shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

"It was just talk," Max said, his voice thick. "Our friendship means too much to me."

Eddie put out a trembling hand.

Max took it.

"That's good."

And then he spoke the words Max had waited years to hear, words he'd begun to think Eddie would never speak.

"I need help.”

On the Outside

"You can't leave, Maddie. Please don't leave."

Maddie stared at her boss, surprised by his reaction.

"Your show is just getting off the ground, picking up more listeners all the time. You can't leave now."

He'd been filling in for her. As soon as she showed up at the station, soggy and desperate, he'd put on an eight-hour reel.

Now they were in the radio station lounge, Maddie curled up in one corner of the plaid couch towel-drying her hair, Hemingway sulking in his cage, Brian sitting in an orange Laundromat chair, popping jelly beans.

"There's no reason for me to stay on here in Chester."

"No reason! How can you say that?" He wore a gray T-shirt with XXL across the front in huge letters. Who was he trying to kid? "You've got me," he said, slapping at his chest. "You've got the radio station."

She needed to put some distance between herself and Eddie Berlin, between herself and Enid. It wouldn't be good to live in the same town.

"I think it would be better if I left." It would be the shortest amount of time she'd stayed in one place. A real record-breaker for her.

"Dialogue. The secret to a good working relationship. Am I not paying you enough? Is that it?"

"It's not about money." She didn't think it worthwhile to mention the fact that she hadn't seen a check yet, or that she'd been eating cat food.

"Everything's about money."

He stood, reached into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulled out his billfold.

He opened it, dug out some bills, and dropped them on the blond coffee table. "Get your car fixed and out of impoundment."

She stared at the money. Three-hundred dollars.

"You're tired. I can see that you're tired. You just let me take care of everything." He disappeared, then returned a few seconds later with a newspaper. "We'll find you an apartment. Or a house. A little, cozy house." He snapped open the paper, fighting with the pages until he had it folded to a manageable size. He dropped down beside her on the couch, slipped a pen from behind his ear, and started circling ads.

"No pets," he mumbled, going down the columns. "No pets, no pets, no pets…"

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

It was nice, if not unusual, to have somebody actually want her around, to have somebody actually in a panic over the possibility of her leaving. It used to be she'd take off and nobody noticed. She didn't leave an imprint, not as much as a single impression behind.

She used to try to convince herself that she didn't need to make a splash, not even a little one.

Enid's words came back to haunt her. No, she'd never done anything of consequence in her life, big or small.

"What do you say, Maddie?"

It might be nice to have some security for a while. Just a little while.

~0~

With the money Brian had tossed on the coffee table, Maddie got her car back and put down a deposit on an apartment.

"An advance," she'd told Brian when he tried to convince her the money was bonus pay. She was going to feel guilty enough when she left as it was.

Driving away from the police station, her muffler reattached, Maddie reached under the seat, feeling past the scraps of wrappers, a couple of rattling soda cans, until her fingers came in contact with cool, solid plastic.

A cassette case.

Maddie had packed the demo tapes in the trunk when she'd come to Nebraska. Just before taking off, she'd retrieved the Rick Beck demo and that of a band called the Jive Bananas, taken them from their cases, and tossed the cases and tapes on the seat beside her so that they'd be handy while she was driving. There had been something wrong with the Banana tape. Before she could try the Beck demo, her car broke down. In a hurry, she’d scooped up the unplayed tape. Then, not bothering to make sure it went into the right case, she shoved the whole mess under her seat.

After the car was fixed and she was back on the road, she’d reached for the radio. The defective demo had still been in the tape player. She’d pulled it out, found the empty holder under the seat, a holder that just happened to be the Rick Beck demo case, and had stuck the defective demo in the glove compartment. Maddie hadn’t bothered to listen to the other tape. In fact, she'd forgotten about it until the night Enid showed up. And since a lot of demo tapes said nothing but demo on them, Enid hadn't caught on.

Now Maddie flipped open the Jive Bananas case with its banana artwork, and pulled out the Rick Beck demo. She had every intention of mailing it to Eddie without even listening to it, but the temptation was too strong.

She slid the tape into the player.

Cool Shade

Rick Beck.

It really was Rick Beck.

She couldn't believe it.

Hearing his voice gave her goosebumps.

Rick Beck unplugged and raw. A rough version, not meant for airplay. Simple. A single person with an acoustic guitar. Nothing more. No tricks. Nothing electronic. Nothing computerized.

Just a man pouring out his soul.

She coasted to a stop in the middle of the road. She turned up the volume.

A single voice.

A single instrument.

Haunting.

Emotional.

"Cool Shade."

The refrain was compelling in its simplicity.

Lay me down in the cool shade

Under a cobalt sky

Lay me down in the cool shade

Hold me while I die.

She listened to the tape over and over, trying to get her fill, knowing it would never happen. The song was a classic, something that would rival any Beatles songs ever written.

A song that would never be heard.

She slid the tape into an envelope, addressed it, and dropped the package in the corner mailbox.

~0~

Have You Seen Me Lately?

Breathless, sweating, Jason pedaled his bike down the rutty lane that led to Eddie's place. Between the handlebars, held in place with several bungee cords, was a tape player, speakers blaring. In it was a tape Eddie'd given him. Jason could never remember the name of the people playing the music, but it was loud and happy. He liked that.

Bun-gee.

What a weird word. He'd have to ask Eddie if he thought it was a weird word, too.

Jason said it out loud, so he wouldn't forget. He forgot lots of things. "Bun-gee. Bun-gee." The more he said it, the weirder it sounded.

He was in a hurry to get to Eddie's. He liked Eddie. He liked Murphy. They didn't make fun of him the way some people did. Eddie never laughed at him. Sometimes Murphy looked at him with his mouth open, but he wasn't laughing. He was just happy.

Jason pedaled faster. He always pedaled fast when he rode up the lane. It was dark in the lane. He didn't like the dark.

He burst into the clearing, hot sun falling on his face.

Better. It was better in the sun, even if it hurt his eyes.

Squinting, he stopped the bike, turned off the tape player, swung his leg over, and put down the kickstand.

A lot of things for a guy to do.

When he let go, the darn kickstand sank in the dirt. Jason grabbed the handlebars just before the bike tipped over. He rolled it ahead a couple of inches, trying another spot. And another. Until he finally found one that worked.

He looked up at the gray, paint-peeled house. A spook house. That's what it looked like. The house and the lane were two things Jason didn't like about going to Eddie's. Eddie should paint his house yellow.

Jason started to walk toward the house, stopped, and went back to get Eddie's mail—just one little package. He took it from the basket on the back of his bike and carried it to the door, looking at the package as he went.

Eddie Berlin

RR1

Chester, Nebraska

It was so light, it almost seemed like it was empty.

Jason wanted to open it, but Adel told him that wasn't right to open somebody else's mail.

He knocked, but Eddie didn't come to the door the way he usually did.

"Eddie?"

He knocked again, then looked around the clearing.

Eddie never went anywhere. That was one of the things Jason liked about him. He was always where he was supposed to be.

"Eddie?"

He didn't say it too loud, in case there was a ghost around or something.

He was getting scared. All by himself, with the big spooky house looking at him. But to get home he had to go back down the dark lane.

Sometimes the trees reached out and grabbed him. Sometimes they tore his shirt and they scratched his face.

He heard a soft thud and he looked down.

The package was lying next to his feet. What was it doing on the ground?

He bent over and picked it up. When he did, one end of the package came open and something slid out.

A plastic case. Inside was a cassette tape.

He dropped the envelope and picked up the case.

Cool. Bananas. He liked bananas.

Staring at it, holding it with both hands, he walked back to his bike. He slid the tape in the player, then pushed the play button.

Music.

He loved music.

Smiling, not scared anymore, he put up the kickstand, swung his leg over the bike, and took off, heading for home.

~0~

"It's not a nuthouse," the counselor explained to Eddie for about the tenth time. "It's a rehab center."

Eddie knew it. He just liked to razz her. April—her name was April—always got bent out of shape whenever he called it a nuthouse.

The rehab center had been Max's idea. Very exclusive, exclusive in the fact that it treated only people with phobias.

"You’ll be there six weeks," Max had explained, trying to convince Eddie it would be a good idea. And then he told Eddie the rest: "It's in Colorado."

"Can't do it."

"I'll get you there. You won't know a thing. I promise."

He didn't lie.

Eddie vaguely recalled boarding a plane, but that was all. He hadn't known anything else until he’d come to in the Colorado clinic.

With the room swirling around him, he'd tried to figure it all out. "Helluva deal," he’d said, his tongue thick. "Pumping me full of dope to take me to a rehab center." It didn't make sense. But he’d liked it.

Everybody had laughed.

Before he’d fallen back to sleep, he may have laughed, too. He couldn't remember. When he was finally coherent, he'd asked the counselor, "So, what's the game plan?"

"For you to help me to help you learn to help yourself. I want you to be able to go anywhere, do anything."

But was that what he really wanted? Eddie wondered.

~0~

"Enid is gone," Evelyn told Maddie as they finished gluing the last remnant on the last cement step. Now Evelyn's steps, patio, and sidewalk were covered with carpet.

"Some guy in a big car came and helped her move. Out-of-state plates."

Vanished again, Maddie thought, picking dried glue from her fingers.

"So if you need a place to stay..."

Was it possible that Evelyn was beginning to like her?

"I need to rent it out right away, so I don't lose any more money."

"Thanks, but I found a little downstairs apartment on Eighth Street." It worked especially well since she slept days and craved the darkness only a windowless basement bedroom could bring. And the darkness of the apartment went well with the darkness in her heart.

She felt so empty. So betrayed.

Enid. Gone. All that was left of her family.

Eddie. He hadn't even tried to contact her. What had she expected? She'd called him a scumball. She'd accused him of trashing Enid's house. He probably hated her.

Jonathan. She hadn't heard from him either. Maybe it was for the best, but she missed him. She missed their talks.

And her period was late. She was afraid she might be pregnant.

Her black mood must have been apparent even to Evelyn, who wasn't terribly perceptive.

She gave Maddie an awkward pat on the shoulder. "It was nothing you did," she said gruffly. "That sister of yours was just plain bad."

Maddie had to tell somebody. She couldn't keep it to herself any longer. "Evelyn, I think I might be pregnant."

"Pregnant? Oh, my. Oh, my. I didn't even know you were dating anybody— and I don't miss much."

"I'm not."

"Well then, dear, who's the father? He should be here, supporting you."

Maddie pulled in a deep breath. "The father is Eddie Berlin."

The color drained from Evelyn's face. "Eddie Berlin?"

Oh, boy. Somewhere in the entire mess, Maddie had forgotten about Evelyn thinking that Eddie had hired a hit on her nephew.

"You've knocked me for a loop, girl."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm not even certain that I'm pregnant. Just forget I mentioned it, okay?"

Evelyn's eyes took on a faraway look, and her color returned to normal. "A baby. I haven't been around a baby in years. Will you let me hold it? Your baby? Just for a little while? A baby. Imagine that."

~0~

"Why don't you just give me a lobotomy so we can be done with all this crap?" Eddie's feet were propped up on the coffee table. "It would be a lot less painful."

They weren't moving as quickly as he'd like. Damn slow, if you asked him.

"You're doing great," April told him.

"I was scared. Scared as hell."

Shrinks like to throw you into a situation while holding your hand and talking you through it.

"But you did it," April insisted. "You went to the bank and made a deposit. You washed your clothes at the Laundromat. You're making progress."

"You must have forgotten the grocery store." He'd gotten halfway through his shopping and freaked out. He'd abandoned the cart in the middle of fruits and vegetables, hauled ass outside and dove into April's car, begging to be taken back to the center.

That wasn't what he called progress.

"So we had to leave. That's to be expected. We'll just keep trying until you can make it all the way through."

That's what he was afraid of.

~0~

Maddie slammed on the brakes and came to a complete stop in the middle of the road.

Strange. Walking along the sidewalk was a woman, a very beautiful woman, with a dog. Not just any dog. This dog looked just like Murphy.

No wonder Eddie hadn't tried to get in touch with her. He had more interesting things to do. She was gorgeous. Poised. Elegant.

In other words, everything Maddie wasn't.

~0~

With perspiration pouring down her face, her head spinning, Maddie struggled to keep her voice normal.

"Here's a little Natalie Merchant to take you into the midnight hour," Maddie said into the microphone. "Natalie, you are so together." She pushed the play button, took off her headphones, and leaned back in the chair.

That didn't make her feel any better.

She leaned forward.

Worse.

A half second later, she gasped and doubled over with pain.

Cramps.

She'd never had such horrible cramps.

Hand shaking, she managed to load eight CDs. Without paying any attention to individual songs, her goal being to avoid dead air, she punched in some random numbers, then ran to the bathroom, reaching it as another wave of cramps hit her.

Her period.

She'd started her period.

She was four weeks late. Did that count as a miscarriage?

She let out a little sob and pressed a hand to her trembling mouth. All for the best, she tried to tell herself. All for the best. She wouldn't have been a good mother. She couldn't even take care of Hemingway.

What was she talking about? She would have been a good mother. She would have been a great mother. A cool mother. The coolest.

~0~

"How’s your daily journal coming?" April asked, crossing her legs.

Was it Eddie's imagination, or was April wearing more makeup, doing something different with her hair?

"I've been writing."

They were sitting in her office, both of them in soft, comfortable chairs, sunlight streaming in.

"Oh? What kind of writing?"

"Poetry."

"I didn't know you wrote poetry."

"Just trying it out."

"That's wonderful."

"Good material in the nuthouse. Did you know James Taylor wrote one of his best songs about a girl he met in the nuthouse?"

"Eddie, this isn't a nuthouse."

"'Fire and Rain.' Just goes to show you never know what's going to impact your life. He wasn't thinking, While I'm here, I'm going to write this song that people are going to be listening to twenty-five years from now."

Eddie's time was almost up. He couldn't believe he'd been there over five weeks.

"You'll be leaving here in two days. How do you feel about that?"

Scared. Scared shitless.

But he'd conquered the grocery store two times all by himself. And he'd been to a post office, and out to eat. He'd even driven around town although he didn't have a driver's license.

April was a damn good sport, he had to admit.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, answering her question.

She leaned forward, looking him square in the eye. "I'll miss you."

Don't do this
, he wanted to say.
Don't come on to me. You're nice, but this just won't work.

He wasn't any prize, but there weren't a whole lot of men to choose from in the old rehab center.

"You have my number," she told him. "And here—" She pulled out a business card, scribbled something on the back, and handed it to him.

Her nails were long. Pink. Hadn't they been short and chewed when he checked in? Yeah. That's right, because he'd wondered what kind of shrink chewed her nails.

He looked at the back of the card.

Her home phone number.

"It won't be easy. You'll have some rough days, but don't let them set you back. If you need anything, need to talk," she said, "just call."

What kind of woman would want a guy she'd fixed? And yet he didn't know if he could get along without her. She had the uncanny ability to talk him out of his panic attacks. And that was something he found extremely attractive. Not that she wasn't nice looking. She was. But she didn't excite him. Didn't challenge him. Didn't make him feel alive.

To give her some sign that he might be interested was a temptation. But it wouldn't be fair to her, and it wouldn't be fair to him. Even if he could fall crazy in love with her, she would always be a reminder of his weaknesses.