Slow Dance in Purgatory (15 page)

             
“So if I come to the school one day, and I call you and call you, and you never come….I’ll know that’s where you are?”

             
Johnny had removed the car’s right front tire and began removing the left, and for several long moments he turned lug nuts without speaking.

             
“The first time I saw you, I’d been floating…and something…. pulled at me.  I resurfaced, and there you were… dancing.  You had no music, but you still danced.  And you were crying.”  Johnny’s eyes met Maggie’s briefly.  “Somehow I don’t think you would have to call too long before I would hear you.”

             
It was Maggie’s turn to be silent.  She wished she had something to occupy
her
hands.  She knew the time he referred to.  It had been her first day of school.  She had been scared and lonely, and after everyone had cleared out after dance class, she tried to comfort herself by doing a jig her father had taught her years before.  She hadn’t been able to remember it all, and somehow that had been the last straw, and the tears had come.  She had no Irish music to match her steps to, and so she’d just moved through the motions she could remember, over and over, until she thought she almost had it.  She had kept dancing until the tears stopped falling.

             
“I remember that day,” Maggie whispered then, and she told him everything.  Johnny listened intently while she talked, stopping periodically to drink in her expressions or admire her graceful gestures.  He also noticed her attempts to gloss over the details that pained her.  She told him about the foster homes and the frequent moves, and finally about Irene and how happy she was to be with her at last.

             
“That Roger Carlton was a real piece of work,” Johnny said when she told him how Roger had denied her a home until his death.  “It’s been a long time, and he’s really not worth the trouble, but I’d still like to pound him.”

             
“I’d like to help,” Maggie added with a huff.    

             
“I wonder what ever happened to my car,” Johnny mused after a long silence.  “Roger took a bat to the windows and creamed the doors in, too.  I wonder if my momma sold it, or maybe Gene came through for her and fixed it up again.  I spent half of my senior year putting that car to rights.

             
“What kind of car was it?”

             
“It was a 1957 Chevy Bel Air.”

             
Maggie calculated for a second.  “Wait a second…You had a brand new car?  How did you manage that?  I mean, I know you had a job and everything, but that’s kind of a big purchase for a high school kid.”

             
“That car didn’t cost me a single, solitary, thin one.  See, it used to be that everybody around here would park their cars out by the reservoir…sometimes with their girls, sometimes alone, and sometimes just to have a couple of beers with their friends.  There was a rich oil man from a couple of towns over who’d had a fight with his old lady.  He seemed to think that she was having a fling with a younger guy.  He thought they had been meeting at the reservoir; so he took his brand new Bel Air up to the rez thinking she was there.  I’d seen him drive through town.  Gene had a couple of pumps out front, and the oil man gassed up there on his way out.  That’s when I got a close-up look at his car.  It was solid black, but the grille, the front fender chevrons, and the script on the hood and trunk were all done in gold trim.  It had fourteen inch wheels, which made it sit lower to the ground, a wide grille on the front, tailfins on the back, and chrome headlights.”  Johnny rattled off the details and shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it. 

             
“So this Daddy-O heads up to the rez, cruisin’ for a bruisin,’ and he sees a couple playin’ back seat bingo in what looks like his wife’s car. 

             
“Back seat bingo?”  Maggie interrupted

             
“You know, making-out?”  Johnny looked a little sheepish.

             
“And what’s a thin one?  You said the car didn’t cost you a single thin one.” 

             
“A dime.  A thin one is a dime.  You wanna hear the rest, or are you gonna keep razzin’ me about my vocabulary?”  Johnny leaned over and poked her in the ribs.

             
“Razzin’?”  Maggie retorted, straight faced.  Then the poke in the ribs became several fingers, and in seconds she was shrieking for mercy. 

             
“Okay, okay, no more tickling,” Maggie gasped.  “Please continue.”

             
Johnny withdrew his hands, and Maggie was almost willing to interrupt again just so he’d put them back.  “Bad Maggie,” she scolded herself firmly.  Johnny picked up the story where he left off. 

             
“So this guy sees his wife, jumps out of his car, forgets to put it in park or pull the brake, and his brand new car rolls slowly down the hill into the reservoir and sinks like a tub of rocks.   Funny thing is, it wasn’t his wife after all.”

             
Maggie groaned a laugh.  “So where do you come in?”

             
“The couple in the car is nice enough to give this character a ride back to town.  He tells them to drop him off at Gene’s.  He gets his wife on the horn, but she’s mad and won’t come get him.  We were just getting ready to call it a night, and Gene tells me to give the guy a lift home in the tow truck.  So I do, and the guy offers to pay me.  I refuse, but I ask him about his car.  He thinks it’s a total loss, but he tells me if I can get it out of the drink, the car is mine.”

             
“You got the car out.”  Maggie grinned.

             
“Me, Jimbo, and Carter got the car out,” Johnny answered with a satisfied smirk.  “With a little help from Gene’s tow truck and some extra long chains.  It rained before we could get to it, and the storm really churned up the mud.  The car had crud in every nook and cranny: the engine, the gas tank, the interior, all full of thick, black, greasy mud.  Gene let me put it behind his shop, and I ended up taking that car apart, piece by piece.  I cleaned each piece, and put it back together.  I got it running again – good as new.  The man was true to his word and gave me the pink slip.

             
“That is a very cool story.”

             
“It was a very cool car.”

             
“So…what are the odds you can fix
this
very cool car?”  Maggie pointed at Irene’s pink Cadillac hopefully.

             
“I’d say the odds are pretty darn good.” Johnny grinned at her confidently. 
             
Maggie’s heart skipped a few beats as she perused his glowing countenance.  He slid his eyes back to his work, and Maggie watched silently, fascinated by his confidence and his expertise.  It was obvious that Johnny had been born and raised in a different time; he’d been the man of his house, and he was independent and competent – far more so than the kids she knew. 

             
Another hour passed, and Maggie looked forlornly at the deepening shadows filling the room.  She sighed dejectedly.  Riding home on her bike meant leaving now, before it was too dark, which meant her time was up.  The afternoon had flown by, and it had been one of the most pleasant she had ever spent.

10

“
ENDLESS SLEEP”

Jody Reynolds - 1958

             
That night Maggie dreamed of floating alongside Johnny in a sunny haze.  She was drowsy, and the brightness of nowhere made colors whirl beneath her closed eyelids.  There was no sound, and she was weightless, surrounded by endless white.  She reached for him then, wanting to pull him close, but her arms passed through him.  She tried to call to him, but was unable to speak.  He began to float away, his eyes closed, his body drifting on a current of heat and light. She tried to swim through the air, desperate to follow him, but her limbs got increasingly heavier and heavier, and she realized she could no longer float. She began to plummet through space, tumbling head over heels, the white swiftly smearing into deepening grey, until she was surrounded by a darkness so absolute she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.  And still she fell, plunging into a never-ending black hole.  She attempted to brace herself, to cover her head, preparing for the inevitable collision with the end, only to discover she had no form.  She reached with phantom hands, searching for her face, for her shoulders, for her body.  She was gone…but not gone; for she remained her self… aware, alive, and alone.

***

             
She awoke way too early feeling sad and out of sorts, the dream lingering to chaff and irritate her raw emotions.  Her eyes were shadowed and tired, and she grumped to herself as she studied her reflection.  So much for beauty sleep.

             
She took extra care with her appearance, soaking in a hot tub with a cold towel on her eyes and blowing her hair dry until it was stick smooth.  She even applied a little make-up to her eyes and blush to her cheeks.  She looked much better when she was finished.  She pulled on her softest jeans and her favorite purple t-shirt, the stretchy one with a v-neck that declared her a member of “Team Edward.”  The purple made her eyes a vivid blue, and the form-fitting old jeans molded her curves just right. 
             

             
The thought of Johnny noticing her eye color or checking out the fit of her jeans made her blush and re-consider her choice. 

             
“You’re completely hopeless!”  She muttered to herself and felt the unease of her nightmare worm its way back into her heart.  Her self-doubt was put on hold when she heard a pounding at the front door.  Racing down the stairs and hollering for whoever it was to hold on, she yanked the door open and yanked Shad inside with it.

             
“What’s buzzin’ cuzzin’?”  Shad teetered a little and then strutted inside, throwing himself on Aunt Irene’s flowered love seat and looking at her expectantly.  . 

             
“You got plans?  I thought we could hang out today, maybe watch some movies, pop some corn, make-out?” He patted the love seat next to him, and waggled his eyebrows, but his smile quickly faded as he noticed her readied appearance.

             
Maggie’s brain was scrambling for an excuse that would exclude Shad from tagging along.  Library?  No.  Errands?  No.  Homework?  Heck no. She hated to ditch her friend, but she HAD to get back to the school.  When she was with Johnny, all doubt fled.  He was so heart-stoppingly real.  But as soon as they were apart, the unreality of the situation was almost crippling. Her anxiety about Irene’s car and the wisdom of her hair-brained plan gnawed at her insides, and she longed to be on her way, Shadrach free.

             
“I’ve got a mandatory dance rehearsal today,” Maggie fibbed, trying to hold Shad’s gaze and look regretful.  “We’re getting ready for a big competition, and it’s going to be a beast.” 

             
Shad looked crestfallen, so she quickly added, “A movie and popcorn sounds fun – the kissing part, not so much.“  Maggie grinned to soften her smack down. “Come over tomorrow night, okay?”

             
“Oh, man!” Shad whined, his afternoon plans blown.  Maggie steeled herself against the guilt.  He perked up suddenly.  “Maybe I can come along, you know, play a little b-ball in the gym?”

             
“The car’s running bad and I’m taking my bike – so unless you want to hitch a ride on my handlebars, I’m afraid not.”  Maggie fervently prayed he’d walked to her house instead of riding his own bike.

             
Shad rose from the couch, dejected and sulking just a little.  Maggie breathed a small side of relief and grabbed her jacket, preceding him out the door.

             
“You’re not wearing those jeans to dance in, are you?”  Shad asked doubtfully.  “Not that your booty ain’t kickin’ it – but…”

             
Maggie winced at her blunder.  “Thanks for reminding me.  And keep your eyes off the booty, please – I forgot my bag.”  Maggie turned and raced into the house, shutting the door on Shad so he wouldn’t follow her back in.

             
Maggie grabbed up her duffle and was back in seconds.  She waved to Shad as she pedaled off towards the school.  When she glanced back at him he was ambling toward home, a small figure with big feet and a bowed head.

***

             
Pulling around the back of the school, Maggie walked her bike to the service bay and tried to calm her breathing.  She told herself she was out of breath from riding her bike at full speed for two miles.  She told herself it had nothing to do with anticipation.  She lied.  She tried the door and it rose with a rattle and a rumble and not much effort.  Stepping inside, she pulled the door down and locked it behind her.  It wouldn’t provide much warning if the mechanics teacher decided to drop by on a Saturday, but it made her feel better.