Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale (26 page)

Jim found some dry driftwood
stored back in the cave and built a little fire at the mouth. He
and Lindsay had cuddled up together and gazed out at the rain
sweeping in off the ocean and the waves flopping in from China.
They smoked some dope and passed a bottle of wine, and Lindsay
began to calm down. Jim held her close to him, and rubbed her
goose-bumpy, bare arms. Strands of her long hair kept blowing into
his mouth, where he held them between his lips. They started to
neck, kissing long and deep, and then the next thing Jim knew they
were back deeper in the cave making love. When the rain let up,
they walked on down the beach, where they came upon a really bad
omen in Lindsay’s book, the half-eaten body of a sea
lion.

2

In the gravel parking lot of
the Alpine Inn, a roadhouse on a thread of blacktop lined with
peeling eucalyptus trees in the foothills west of Palo Alto,
Lindsay and Jim sat sipping the last of the Chablis and listening
to the Cutlass tick. The Alpine Inn looked like the stagecoach stop
it had once been, a one-story, low-slung, wood-frame affair, its
parking lot packed with fashionably funky BMWs, one maroon
Mercedes, at least a dozen Harleys, several hippie vans, Volkswagen
Bugs, countless ten- speed touring bikes chained in racks where
once horses might have been hitched, and, beside their ticking
Cutlass, Ralph and Alice Ann’s ancient red Cadillac
convertible.

Jim held the botde up and
gently shook it, then he offered it to Lindsay.

I’ve had enough, Lindsay
said. —My tummy is jumpy enough already.

Down the old hatch, Jim
said, and killed the bottle off. —Well, let’s head on in and get it
over with.

Let me smoke a cigarette,
Lindsay said, and opened her purse.

Alice Ann is going to be
nervous, too, you know, Jim told Lindsay, who was smoking and
studying her split ends intently.

Somehow that is not
particularly reassuring.

And poor old fucken Ralph is
probably chewing his paws off. You know, if it gets down to it, I
reckon you could probably take old Alice Ann. Watch out for her
sneaky right cross, though.

Thanks for the fucking tip,
asshole. Jim, do you love me?

A bushel and a
peck.

I want to hear you say
it.

I love you. Let me count the
ways. Why don’t we just go on in and get this show on the
road?

Lindsay took hold of Jim’s
hand as they walked through the dim, low room packed with bikers
playing clanging pinball machines. A big color television set
blared a boxing match from above the bar. The air was thick with
the smell of frying hamburgers and onions and old boards sour with
a century of spilled beer. Just at the back screen door Lindsay
suddenly chirped that she was sorry and she ducked into the women’s
restroom.

Lindsay sat down on the
single commode’s seat and held her face in her hands. She couldn’t
help but think about the last time she had been in this joint, that
time with Ralph. When somebody tried the door, Lindsay about jumped
out of her skin. She sniffed her underarms, which were swampy with
sweat, and then unrolled fistfuls of toilet paper and tried to pat
her underarms dry, whereupon she simply stuffed the wet wads of
paper under her arms and held them there. She squinted at her
reflection in the sliver of mirror above the cruddy sink, and then
tried to smudge powder from her compact onto her sweating, flushed
face. Lindsay thought she looked awful. Plus she was getting a
pimple on her chin. Somebody knocked on the door. Wet bits of
toilet paper stuck to Lindsay’s armpits, and she tried to scrape
her stinging flesh clean with her fingernails. Suddenly Lindsay
realized that the crotch of her jeans felt wet. Jesus. Could it be
her period? And that she was not pregnant, after all. Lindsay
jerked her jeans down. Sweat, simply cascading sweat. Soaking with
it. Then she still could be. After all. Lindsay unrolled more
toilet paper and padded her panties. Somebody knocked at the door
again. They knocked again. Lindsay lit a cigarette and opened the
door just as Jim was about to knock again.

We’re late, Jim
said.

You asshole.

I don’t like to make people
wait on me.

My, my, aren’t you the
considerate dickhead.

Just fucken relax, will
you.

They spotted Ralph and Alice
Ann sitting far across the wide yard at a picnic table in the shade
of a redwood near the creek bank in back. Lindsay saw immediately
that it was the very same table she and Ralph had eaten at that
evening in another lifetime. Lindsay and Ralph had sat at that same
table in the shade and gorged on greasy burgers and then licked one
another’s lingers clean.

Jim and Lindsay wove their
way across the yard among picnic tables packed with people.
Barefoot children charged about in the dust, and along the creek
bank barking dogs played chase. Rock-and-roll blared from speakers
arranged in the trees. The bee-thick air smelled of sweat and
suntan oil and fried onions. In the flushed, shifting light flies
sparkled like fluttering specks of tinsel above oil-drum trash
barrels. Mottled sunlight and shadow moved softly over Alice Ann’s
long, shining blond hair. Alice Ann looked up and saw Jim and
Lindsay approaching. There was no expression on Alice Ann’s long,
lovely face.

Lindsay choked on a final
huge inhale of her pinch of a cigarette. She began to cough
violently. Patting her back, Jim led Lindsay across the yard of
rubbernecking idiots to Ralph and Alice Ann’s table and helped her
sit. Tears streamed down Lindsay’s face as she coughed like a
consumptive.

Try this, hon, Alice Ann
said, and offered a plastic cup.

Lindsay smiled a sappy thank
you through her tears. When she gulped the warm, watery
bourbon-and-Coke Lindsay knew she was a goner. Lindsay jumped up
and staggered toward the creek bank. The redwood she braced herself
against seemed to jerk away in a huff. Several children gathered
about in time to observe Lindsay’s lunch depart her system in a
great green flood, which was in moments covered with a fist of
flies. Joyous dogs bounded about barking. More curious, giggling
children crowded about to point at the barfing lady and hoot.
Lindsay felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and squeeze gently,
and through her tears she saw that it was Alice Ann’s.

i

3

Wonder what’s happened to
our wives, Ralph said. —We did have some wives here with us, didn’t
we?

They’re probably inside
making dates with bikers, Jim said.

Don’t even say such a thing,
Ralph said, and glanced toward the roadhouse. —Have you ever seen
so many bikers in one place? I’ll admit it, bikers give me the
willies.

So, old Ralph, is Lindsay a
sight for sore eyes?

Why, sure she is, old Jim.
Sure. You know that. Lindsay is a wonderful lady. Wonderful. I hold
her in the highest regard.

Lindsay was a little worried
that things will be awkward. And I guess they did get off to a sort
of barfy beginning. But I’m sure things will settle down and be
cool. Has Alice Ann been cool about this little rendezvous, or can
I look forward to her taking a swing at Lindsay at some
point?

Sure, cool, Ralph said, so
to speak. Sure, why not? Water over the old dam, and all that. You
know. Where in the world do you think they are, old Jim?

Don’t sweat it, Ralph. The
wives are returning bikerless.

As they walked across the
yard toward the table, Alice Ann had her arm around Lindsay’s
shoulders, and they sat down side by side on the bench, forcing
Ralph to move around grumbling to Jim’s side. Lindsay was pale and
wearing her darkest shades. Jim got up and came around to stand
behind Lindsay and rub her neck.

Are you going to pull
through, kid? Jim said.

I’m in God’s hands, Lindsay
said, and then to Alice Ann said, Thank you again for the help.
Really. I am simply mortified, of course.

You folks sure were gone a
long time, Ralph said. —We were talking search party.

Speak for yourself, Jim
said.

We’re big girls, Alice Ann
said. —We were getting acquainted. Now we are fast
friends.

Get! Get! Jim growled as he
kicked at several dogs sniffing about the table. —You too! Get the
hell out of here! Jim barked at several bareback boys standing
nearby staring at Lindsay. The kids scattered, and a big hippie
with hair to his waist sitting at the next table requested that Jim
be cool, brother. Whereupon Jim inquired about the depth of the
hippie’s desire to suck soup until his teeth grew back in. The
hippie turned away.

The rhinestone redneck rears
his hoary head, Lindsay said.

You exhibit very strange
karma, Jim, Alice Ann said.

You got it, Jim said. —The
strange-karma kid. Well, let us start this whole hello business
over again. Alice Ann, kiddo, you look great as always. Wonderful,
in fact. Ralph, you look like you're on a diet of dog shit. Alice
Ann, please formally meet my blushing bride, the legendary but
rather green-around-the-gills Lindsay. And, Lindsay, please
formally meet the lovely Alice Ann Crawford, who deserves all our
utmost respect and pity for that heavy burden she has assumed in
this life, namely that pitiful old rugged cross called Ralph
Crawford.

Oh, stuff it, Stark, Lindsay
said, and took her compact out of her purse and looked into its
mirror. —God, the damage done. I didn’t repair very well, did
I?

You look fine to me, babe,
Jim said, and squeezed Lindsay’s shoulders. —Look, I’m just
clicking around. But it’s all Ralph’s fault as usual. He got me in
a mood. He said you all were inside flirting with
bikers.

I never! Ralph
said.

You look beautiful, hon,
Alice Ann said to Lindsay.

You look great, Ralph said
to Lindsay. —You’re a sight for sore eyes. Really.

It’s good to see you, too,
Ralph, Lindsay said.

Is Ralph a sight for sore
eyes, too? Jim said.

As a matter of fact, he is,
Lindsay said.

Everybody is in agreement,
then, Jim said. —Everybody is a sight for sore eyes.

Why don’t you guys go get us
some Cokes or something, Alice Ann said. —Or maybe some cold beer.
What would go good on your stomach, hon? Alice Ann asked
Lindsay.

Hemlock, Lindsay said, and
rolled her eyes.

Go on, you guys, get us come
Cokes for mix, Alice Ann said, and shooed her hand at Jim and
Ralph. —Get some french fries, too, Ralph.

I’ve got some Coke left in
here, Ralph said, and jiggled his plastic cup.

Ralph, that’s fifty percent
cheap bourbon not fit for human consumption, Alice Ann said. —And
the rest is warm spit. Why don’t you just go on and get us some
Cokes and fries. I think Ralph is afraid for us to be alone
together, Alice Ann said to Lindsay.

Oh, where do you get off?
Ralph said.

And Jim is just afraid he’ll
miss something juicy, Lindsay said.

Hey, I’m just an innocent
bystander around here, Jim said.

Oh really? Alice Ann
said.

Come on, old Ralph, Jim
said. —We’re not appreciated around here. Let us just step and
fetch it.

Why do we both have to go?
Ralph said.

Give me a fucken hand, will
you, Ralph? Jim said.

Go on, Ralph, Alice Ann
said.

Ralph got up mumbling and
followed Jim across the yard toward the roadhouse.

4

Alice Ann lit a cigarette.
She handed it to Lindsay and lit another for herself. She blew long
streams of smoke through her nose.

Thanks, Lindsay
said.

I thought I was prepared for
any way you turned out to be, Alice Ann said.

I take it you didn’t exactly
expect me to be so utterly collapsed, Lindsay said.

Well, no, Alice Ann said,
and laughed. —I had you pictured as being tres cool and oh so
elegant.

Until I tossed my cookies
into the creek?

Listen, hon, the tres
inelegant horror stories I could tell you

.

Somehow I suspect we have
had similar disastrous episodes in our life experiences, Lindsay
said, and took off her sunglasses. She blinked her right eye
rapidly. —Now I’ve lost a goddamn contact.