Settling Old Scores: BWWM Second Chance Romance (7 page)

He
would panhandle on the Avenue until it was burned down. Every night,
he would drug and/or drink himself into oblivion. Generally, he slept
around or under the railroad trestles by the river. Kevin suspected
those old veteran GI shop keepers kept him fed every night with food
that was getting close to expiration dates, or spoiling. He always
seemed to turn up on the Avenue right at shop closing time. Kevin
could bet that Matt put tears in some of those guys’ eyes when
they saw him every night. The thought of seeing him put tears in
Kevin's eyes. It reminded him of how damaged his own father was by
his war experiences, and it made him rage a little.

"I
saw him this morning panhandling downtown. He did remember me. He
looked terrible, Kevin. His teeth were broken and rotting, he was
filthy too," she said as she looked imploringly at Kevin. "I
took him to McDonald’s and bought breakfast for him. I didn't
want to just give him money. He asked about you too."

"Pat,
I haven't seen him in about 5 years. I know he can go get help at the
Veterans Administration, if he is willing to go there. Everyone
always associates you and I together from back then," Kevin
said.

Kevin
didn't really want to get involved, but the thought of the guy with
no fear being taken advantage of and discarded infuriated him. His
absolute fearlessness was perhaps the only thing he had going for him
in life. Only Uncle Sam would think such a rare commodity as extreme
big balls was ubiquitous.

The
fuckers treated everything precious like it was a commodity, thought
Kevin hotly. After the riots, Matt was no longer a fixture on the
Avenue. There were no shops, no food, and some danger of getting
harmed. There was no reason to hang around. The guy was a survivor
though, going on ten years on the street. He was lucky to be alive.
That lifestyle would have killed a lesser man like me, Kevin thought.
He had no problem admitting that. It was just a fact. The guy slept
outdoors even in the coldest weather. Kevin suspected he wanted
nothing to do with anything closed in.

"If
you saw him Kevin, I know you would want to help him. I am not blind
to your own pain about this either," she said as she took his
hand and held it for a second.

“
Let
me call around and check on resources, and then I will find Matt and
see what I can do," Kevin said resignedly. It was true about
wanting to help. Kevin had learned to be very careful when he picked
causes, though. Once he got involved, he got involved all the way.
But this was the kind of stuff that made him bitter, cynical, and
enraged. The line from Casablanca came to Kevin's mind. "Welcome
back to the fight, this time I know we shall win." Kevin knew
for damn sure he wasn't the Victor Lazlo character in the exchange.

Pat
was pleased with Kevin's answer. They lingered and talked a bit
longer. Clearly, neither of them wanted the meal to end. Finally,
Kevin glanced at his watch and looked her steadily in the face. "Why
don't you stay in the spare bedroom tonight? You know I am not going
to harm you, at least, I hope you do. Call your mom from my place
when we get there so she knows where you are. At the very least, let
me drive you home."

13.
Spending the Night

To
Kevin's complete surprise, Pat agreed to stay overnight. They went to
the apartment, and she called her mom. Kevin fished around in his
dresser and got her an over sized T-shirt that she could wear to
sleep in. She went to the spare bedroom and changed into it. Kevin
stayed in the living room and poured his double bourbon for a
nightcap. He put on a Delfonics album and called out to her. Do you
want a nightcap, too?

Again,
to his utter surprise, she said yes and asked for a glass of white
wine. Then, she came out in her Tee Shirt nightgown and sat down
beside him on the couch. They didn't talk at first. They just
listened to the music. Kevin slipped his arm around her. Pat snuggled
into him in return.

"You
always have always been a sucker for that tenor and falsetto thing
Wilbur and
William Hart
do, haven't you?" she asked.

"I
am a sucker for it. Nobody does this sound like the Hart brothers do.
As far as I am concerned, they invented Philly Sound. The harmony of
people with the same genetic voice prints and the natural tension of
the tenor versus falsetto voices always gets me. I am also a sucker
for
Eddie
Holman
, and
Russell
Thomkins Jr
. I love it when Thompkins comes on behind Airron Love
and blows the doors completely off that one song they do. The lyrics
on some of these songs reminds me painfully about you and me. Believe
me Pat, I have tormented myself regularly about us," Kevin said
quietly.

Pat
was touched and moved by his admission to her. "I am sorry I
have been such a bitch to you in the past Kevin. Know that I do care
a great deal for you, and I always have. Please don't lose sight of
that. I always will care for you too," she said with that
vulnerability of hers showing.

"I
feel the same way about you. I don't have any problem admitting to
anyone that you helped me grow up. I'm sure I got more out of our
relationship than you ever got from me. I won’t apologize for
flat out admitting I want you either. You know you are not a troll in
the looks or body department. You have your own feelings about all
that, and I will respect your decisions. I like to think I could have
helped you more though; if only you trusted me a little more. All I
can say is that you never really opened up to me and that hurts,"
said Kevin.

Pat
looked at Kevin closely. Choosing her words carefully and fighting
back tears, she said, "I was crushed when you stopped writing to
me. But it was the third time this had happened. I always begged you
to resume the relationship before. This last time, I decided not to.
You admit to getting so much from the relationship; and I was the one
that was always asking you to come back to it. Kevin, I am not saying
we won't ever have a relationship beyond what we have now. I am
saying in some ways I feel like I hardly know you. I am mad at you. I
am not exactly sure why though. You graduated, got a job in your
profession and moved on. I, on the other hand, just kept persisting
in the same rut. I went to school, and went to school. I didn't
address many of my personal issues, I admit that," she said.

She
continued on, "I feel like you deserted me when I needed you the
most. It worked, I suppose. I should be thankful to you for that but
instead I am angry. Maybe, what really angered me was that you had
this sudden out of nowhere leap in maturity, and I didn't. I was
always the one ahead of you, and all the sudden you left me behind
literally, and figuratively. Your scorched earth attitude with me of
all people really hurt, and really pissed me off."

"Pat
I am so sorry I hurt you. I just felt we were at an impasse, and I
couldn't do it anymore. We were eleven years into a relationship that
didn't seem to be going anywhere. I know we were just kids for much
of it, but still," Kevin said.

They
sat there a little longer. They kissed tentatively. It was the first
kiss they ever had with some heat to it. The event was not wasted on
either of them.

"I
know you are right about us not really knowing each other. We need to
go slow. We cleared the air between us a little; it’s a start,"
Kevin said.

"It
is a start, just be patient with me." Then she gave Kevin the
big smile. "I know the Tee shirt and the kisses have gotten you
hot and bothered. I feel it too, but we aren't ready for that yet,"
she said.

"You
would get me hot if you were wearing a sack dress," Kevin said.
For the time being at least, she was calling the tune, and he was the
accompaniment once again, Kevin thought.

The
next morning, Kevin got up, made coffee, took a shower, shaved, and
got dressed before Pat even stirred. He was debating about going in
the bedroom and waking her up with a cup of coffee when he heard her
get up. She stumbled out of the bedroom with sleep still in her eyes.
She seemed totally at ease being around him dressed only in the
elongated T-shirt. Kevin poured her a cup of coffee. Then she
retreated to the bathroom for a shower and to get dressed. Kevin
didn't know what Pat felt, but he felt a little domestic bliss over
what had transpired. She had looked plenty fetching to him in that
thin cotton T-shirt that barely covered her bottom. Her nipples stood
out so beautifully against the fabric of the thin shirt too.

Finally,
she came out of the bathroom fully dressed. They talked lightly about
the upcoming day. Kevin had to get going. He again offered her a key.
This time she accepted it. "Now, this doesn't mean that I am
moving in with you. It means, from time to time, I will sleep here. I
will also store some pajamas and a change of clothes or two here.
Just so you don't get the wrong idea, I am not going to be your
conquest of the quarter, or your slut of the semester," she said
with a frightening severity.

"Jesus,
Pat! Although having you is a great fantasy for me, I don’t
have any expectation of getting lucky with you, or anything like that
in the near future. I know we have to establish our relationship
first," Kevin said.

She
seemed pleased with that answer. Was it the part about being friends
again, or a being a great fantasy that pleased her the most, he
wondered to himself. In any event, her tone softened just a little.

"You
always did get ragged off when I said no to you. Well, I am saying no
right up front. We don't have that kind of relationship yet, we just
don't. You can't have me, or bully me into sleeping with you until I
am ready. By the way, if you quit on me this time, we are done. Are
we clear on that Mr. Kelly? You are not going to blow my mind this
time," she said. The reference to the Delfonics song was not
wasted on Kevin.

"We
are clear on it. We do have some old, sore, and sensitive history we
eventually do need to cover. I know that we have to go slow before we
can have that conversation. I'm willing to be patient and wait until
we've established a relationship that involves more than just being
pen pals for years,” Kevin said.

"I
agree, and we will both know when we're ready, if ever, to have that
discussion," she said as she stood there with her arms folded
stubbornly over her chest.

A
pregnant silence hung in the air after that exchange. There was
little to be gained from saying more, lots to be lost.

14.
Rachmaninoff

Kevin
was only one class away from completing his graduation requirements.
In addition to taking that class, he took a couple of electives that
he thought he would like. One of them was a course in South American
culture. He enjoyed the shit out of it. The professor was a
fascinating scholar that could really get Kevin thinking. Kevin had
made trips to South America before; so, the class for him was
especially thought provoking.

One
of the assigned readings was by Octavio Paz. His book was
Labyrinth
of Solitude
.
The author had been the Mexican ambassador to India, another country
Kevin had been to. The class examined and contrasted the differences
between the two Americas, with a healthy dose of India in it as well.
He loved the class and had enlightening conversations with the
professor too. Slowly, the professor was bringing clarity to Kevin
about some of the things he had seen in his world travels.

In
his spare time, he did get over to the university library and get
articles about the riots. He had read the major newspaper accounts of
the event when he was a kid. Now, he was re-reading these accounts.
On top of that, there were about half a dozen little local newspapers
and journals in the archives that Kevin never heard of. Little
community activist newspapers and newsletters. The local Jewish press
had articles in it about the event. The black community had articles,
and the local socialist paper too.

The
big newspaper seemed to want to put the blame on "outside
agitators" from places like Chicago. Those articles had a kind
of "On our plantation, our slaves would never do that"
slant. Then, there was the obligatory story about how some people
tried to save the burning store. Sort of a rendition of the stories
you hear in the South on the Plantation tours you go on. Always a
variation of how "The slaves tried to save the plantation. They
loved their masters so much." It was naive bullshit that made
Kevin sneer a little.

In
one ridiculous article, a reporter even interviewed Sam McCann about
his loss. It quoted and depicted him as a victim of the rage in the
neighborhood. They even cited him as a "role model" to kids
in the neighborhood. The black papers were not fooled. They mostly
decried the criminal element. The Jewish papers focused on the losses
of the merchants.