Fly the Rain (9 page)

Chapter
11

“
Come on, Craig, you’ve got
to get up!” Lenny banged on his brother’s bedroom door. “It’s
1:30.”

Craig jumped out of bed. His throbbing head
made him wish he hadn’t. He opened the door just a crack. His voice
sounded tired and hoarse. “Stop it. I’m up.”

Lenny tried to get a peek. “You got a woman
in there?” he said, grinning.

“
None of your business. And
keep your voice down.”

“
Where did you go last
night? I thought you were right behind me. I called your cell. Why
didn’t you answer?”

“
I needed to think, so I
went for a drive.”

“
And picked up a
hooker?”

“
Again—it’s none of your
business.”

“
Well, hurry up. Daddy said
he’d see us at
The Barn
at 2:00.”

“
You go on. I’ll be right
behind you.”

“
Craig…“

“
Go. I’ll be
there.”

After Craig shut the door, Lenny put his ear
up to it, and listened for a woman’s voice.

Craig hit the door with his fist.

Lenny’s head bounced off the door.
“Ouch!”

“
Go!”

Craig knew he needed to
hurry. He didn’t want to make Billy-Eye mad. But he had to take
just a few more seconds to admire Cindy’s sexy naked body, while
she lay sleeping in his bed. He
wanted
to, but he
couldn’t—because she was not there. He had been with her in his
dreams all night long. No wonder he’d slept so late.

**********

Edsel kept his old cassette player turned
down low, so he could hear when someone came into his shop. Most
people didn’t bother to call him on the phone. They knew he
wouldn’t answer it unless he happened to be on a break. If you
wanted Edsel to work on your car, it was best to just bring it
in.

His shop had an in-floor hydraulic lift,
which had broken down over a year ago. Angie had been pleading with
him to buy a new one, to no avail. To him, it would be a waste of
money. He had a perfectly good portable hydraulic lift, and 36-inch
creeper. A creeper is a flat board on wheels, with padding and a
small built-in pillow.

He didn’t mind rolling under cars to work on
them. He explained to Angie that he enjoyed being able to do some
of his work lying down. His feet got sore when he had to stand on
the hard concrete all day. A couple of times she had found him
asleep under a car. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t getting paid by
the hour.

Edsel was working under a 1972 Impala,
replacing the starter, when he heard somebody come into the shop.
“Hello? Who’s there?”

“
Uncle Ed?”

“
Greg?” He rolled out from
under the car, jumped up and wiped his hands on a rag. He grabbed
Greg’s hand, and shook it hard.

Greg had forgotten about Uncle Ed’s
vise-like grip.

“
And this must be
Cynthia.”

“
Hi.” Cynthia smiled and
shook his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“
Well, I wouldn’t believe
everything Knuckle-Banger tells you.”

“
Knuckle-Banger?” She
snickered. “You didn’t tell me you had a nickname,
Honey.”

Another thing Greg had forgotten. “Yeah.
When Uncle Ed and I were working on my old Thunderbird I’d be
pulling on a wrench with all my might, and it would slip off, and
I’d bust my knuckles.”

“
He did it a lot,” added Ed.
“Probably lost a half-pint of blood in this shop.”

“
But only Uncle Ed is
allowed to call me that. You don’t need to tell anybody else about
it.”

“
Oh, I don’t know,” said
Cynthia. “I think your choir members might get a kick out of
it.”

Greg grimaced. But he knew
she was joking. At least he
hoped
so. “Everything going
okay, Uncle Ed?”

“
Yep. I’ve got more work
than I can handle. One of these days I’m gonna have to turn
somebody away—send them to some other mechanic,” said
Edsel.

“
Well, that’s great.” Greg
paused. “Have you had that talk with Angie yet?”

Cynthia was surprised to see Edsel’s face
turn red.

“
No. But I will.”

“
Well, if you need my
help—“

“—
no, that’s okay. I’m gonna
do it.”

“
You’ve got until we go home
tomorrow night,” said Greg. “Or I’m going to tell her
myself.”

“
I’m gonna do
it.”

“
Good. How about tomorrow
night, the four of us have dinner together? Are the
Haystack Fiddlers
still playing at Angie’s on Sunday nights?”

“
Sure are.”

“
Great. You’ll like them,”
said Greg to Cynthia. “They’re a local Country and Bluegrass
band.”

“
Sounds like fun,” she
said.

“
Well, I’d better get back
to work,” said Edsel. “I promised Mrs. Jennings her car would be
ready to go by 4:00.”

“
Okay,” said Greg. “We’ll
see you tomorrow.”

“
Bye,” said Cynthia. “It was
nice to meet you.”

“
Me too,” said Edsel, as he
lay down on the creeper, and rolled under the Impala. “And don’t
forget, Greg.”

“
What?” Greg was holding the
door open for Cynthia.

“
Fly the rain!” said
Edsel.

“
Fly the rain!” said
Greg.

As they were walking to the car, Cynthia
said, “What does that mean?”

“
To be honest, I’m not quite
sure.”

“
Then why did you say
it?”

“
It’s just something Uncle
Ed likes to say. I think it means ‘Have a great day,’ or ‘Go for
it,’ or something like that.”

“
You never asked
him?”

“
Well, at first I thought it
was something I was supposed to already know. Like when the doctor
says, ‘You know why you got that rash, right?’ You’d rather just
pretend like you knew. Anyway, after a while I was too embarrassed
to admit that I didn’t know what it meant. And I never heard him
say it to anyone else, so I couldn’t ask them either.”

“
He only said it to
you
?”

“
Yeah. And for a while I was
afraid it meant something…
sexual
.”

“
No wonder you were afraid
to ask.”

“
Yeah. But then I realized I
was just being silly. He’s not like that.”

“
Tell you what—tomorrow
night
I’ll
ask him.”

“
No, that’s okay. I’ve gone
this many years without knowing. It’s no big deal.”

**********

“
Norma! Somebody’s knocking
on the front door. Can’t you hear?” Ralph Tenorly was sitting in
his favorite chair, a few feet from the door, watching a baseball
game on TV.

“
I’m coming,” said Norma, in
a singsong voice. She walked in from the kitchen, through living
room, and opened the front door. “Greg! Come on in. And you must be
Cynthia. Oh, she’s beautiful, Greg. You’re a lucky man. A very
lucky man.”

Ralph didn’t get up. He barely looked away
from the game as they walked in. “Hello.”

“
Sweetie, this is my dad’s
new wife, Norma. And this is my dad, Ralph.”

“
Hi, Norma.”

Ralph forced himself to stand up and shake
Cynthia’s hand. “How are you?”

“
Fine, Sir. I’m glad to
finally meet you,” said Cynthia.

“
Norma’s right. You’re quite
a looker.”

“
Thanks,” said Cynthia.
She’d heard it her entire life, although rarely in those exact
words. But she never let it go to her head. She was no more
responsible for her natural beauty than a tall person is for their
height. But a nice compliment was always appreciated. Maybe Greg
had exaggerated. Ralph didn’t seem so bad.

“
So, how did you get mixed
up with this do-gooder?”

“
Actually,” she looked at
Greg, “this do-gooder saved my life.”

“
Really? Y’all sit down and
tell us all about it,” said Norma.

“
How’s your Uncle Edsel?”
said Ralph.

Greg and Cynthia looked at each other. Greg
said, “How did you—“

“—
how did I know you went by
to see him? Your wife’s got grease on her hand.”

“
Where?” Cynthia looked for
it.

“
On the edge of your little
finger,” said Ralph.

“
Let me get you a paper
towel,” said Norma, rushing into the kitchen.

“
So, how is the old
nutcase?” Greg’s dad liked referring to Edsel as ‘old,’ even though
Ed was twenty-five years younger than him. Ralph had never shown
his brother-in-law any respect. At the time Ralph married Barbara
Torkman, her kid brother was in the first grade. Ralph was even
more cruel than Edsel’s mean classmates—endlessly picking on the
stuttering child.

“
He’s doing fine,” said
Greg. “But he’s not a nutcase.”

“
Sure he is,” said
Ralph.

“
Well, it seems like he’s
doing pretty well. He’s got plenty of business from what I
understand. He must be doing something right.”

“
Yeah. You know why he’s got
all that business? He’s still charging 1980’s prices. That’s why
people take their cars to him—he’s cheap. Don’t ask me how he’s
paying the bills.”

Norma handed Cynthia a paper towel, and
Cynthia wiped the grease off her hand.

“
I tried to help him, you
know,” said Ralph. “He could have come to work with me at the
shipyard. He would have made a good living there. At least
you
gave it a
try.”

Cynthia looked at Greg.

“
He couldn’t hack it
though,” said Ralph. “Greg was just too soft to do manual
labor.”

“
I was eighteen years old,”
said Greg. “And that woman they had me working with had the
trashiest mouth I’ve ever heard. I just couldn’t take
that.”

Ralph chuckled. “Yeah, Connie was a little
rough around the edges alright. But she was a woman. All you would
have had to do was cuss her out a couple of times. Then she would
showed you some respect.”

“
I don’t do that,” said
Greg.

“
Of course you don’t,” said
Ralph. “You wouldn’t cuss if your life depended on it. Because that
would be wrong, wouldn’t it? And you never do anything wrong.
You’re perfect.”

“
I didn’t say
that.”

“
You didn’t
have
to. It’s
written all over your holier-than-thou face.”

Norma jumped in. “Okay, boys, that’s
enough.”

“
We need to go,” said Greg,
rising to his feet.

Cynthia stood up.

“
We’ll see you tomorrow at
the party,” said Greg, as he hurried out the door with
Cynthia.

Greg dreaded having to attend his dad’s
stupid birthday party tomorrow.

But for now, he would put his dad out of his
mind. He and Cynthia were headed for their hotel room. And tonight,
there would be no midnight interruptions from his
mother-in-law.

Chapter 12

“
Join me for
dinner?”

“
Sure.” Angie spun around,
expecting to see Edsel in his overalls. But tonight, he was wearing
slacks and a polo shirt—which, for Edsel, was formal
attire.

“
What’s the matter? You’re
looking at me funny.”

“
Well, you’re just
so…dressed up. What’s the occasion?”

“
It’s Saturday night, and
I’m having dinner with Miss Angie.”

She hadn’t been a ‘miss’ since she was in
her twenties, but she thought it was sweet when Edsel called her
that. “Okay.” But she knew there must be more to it. Edsel had
never dressed up like this to come over for dinner. He usually just
washed up a little, and stayed in his work clothes.

“
This time you won’t have to
wipe down the chair after I leave.”

“
I don’t do
that.”

“
Yes, you do. I saw you the
other night. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t come in here when I’m all
greasy.”

“
It’s okay. I don’t
mind.”

“
Well, are you
hungry?”

“
I’m starving. And my feet
are killing me.”

“
Good time for a break
then.”

She turned to one of her waitresses.
“Shelly? We’re gonna take Table Twelve.”

“
Yes, Ma’am.”

“
And we’ll have iced
tea.”

“
I’ll bring it right
over.”

Good, thought Edsel. Table Twelve was in the
back corner.

He and Angie walked to their table, and sat
down.

After a few moments of
listening to the band Edsel said, “The
Fiddlers
sure sound good
tonight.”

“
Yep,” said Angie. “They
always do.”

Shelly delivered their iced teas, and took
their order.

Angie’s cell phone rang. When she saw who
was calling, she said, “Not again.”