Chapter 17

After my discussion with them, they all decided to go along and keep their mouths shut. As I would in any circumstance like this one, I expected one of them to turn out to be the alpha asshole. Boys will be boys wouldn’t do for him any longer. He would have to push back against the group there by showing his dominance over his own world.

His name was John Potato Head. I didn’t remember his name exactly, but it was foreign and sounded a lot like potato-head. If we both stayed in town long enough, I knew it was just a matter of time. Since the incident was supposed to have been an end of the shooting blowout, they should be leaving, I thought.

I had breakfast with Rita and the crew. Rita was one of those people who planned ahead. She also planned everything down to the number of Kleenex in her box. When she showed up in jeans and a sweat shirt on casual Friday, it might have gone unnoticed by anyone but me. I noticed it, because I knew where it came from.

Rita had spent the night in the motel, bed but there was no hanky panky. She just asked if I could do that. You know, sleep in the bed without attacking her. I explained honestly that I doubted it.

Yes, she was junkie skinny, but still she was a woman in her mid thirties and a struggling lawyer. She might be considered a catch by some folks. I managed to control myself.

Rita’s demeanor was very much all business even though she sat by me. “So you fellows are going to be packed up and gone by the end of day?” she asked, but in a positive voice.

“Yes we will be in the car, and on the road ten minutes after we pay the breakfast check,” the self appointed spokesperson said.

“That’s probably a very good idea. If I were you, I would go home and never speak of this incedent again,” was my reply

“So what are you going to do?” Rita asked.

“I’m going to go home and forget this whole thing ever happened as well,” I explained.

“Good for you. If you ever stop back in this area, I’ll buy you a drink,” she suggested.

“I don’t drink, but I might stop in for a glass of iced tea,” I suggested.

“I’ll buy some tea bags just in case,” she offered.

“You do that little lady,” I said it in my way overdone fake southern drawl. “Well, we got to get on the road.”

With that I stepped onto the top of the scooter and sat down. Yes, it was a lot like riding a dining room chair down the road at fifty miles and hour. It was my first scooter ever, and that had been my longest ride. I struggled to get home before what we called dead dark. Trust me unless you live around a small town, you have probably never experienced dead dark. You can end up in the woods when there is no moonlight making it to the ground. That can be terrifying.

Somehow, though, that 1AM moonlight through the heavy forest is even more frightening that the dead dark. That subdued light seems to be just made for spooks. I know damn well it is the kind of night when things jump out in front of your car. Non-existent deer had run in front of me leaving me in the ditch.

“By the time it got even close to that time of night, I was home sitting in the night air with a cup of bitter and hot coffee. I was on the deck and I hadn’t even taken time to call Alison. To be honest for the last two days while out of town, I hadn’t even thought of her. I would really have felt bad, if she called me, but she didn’t. It seemed as though we didn’t have any string that forced us to keep each other in mind.

I absolutely admit that I had missed Alison. When you are twenty, then ten years doesn’t seem to matter. I was fifty five and Alison was at least sixty five. Sure I thought about it. We had to be more practical, but we didn’t have to hide our heads in the sand.

I finished my coffee and let the road miles drift away, then I called Alison. “Hello girl so what have you been up to?” I asked.

“Louise and I went to see her granddaughter’s summer workshop play,” she explained excitedly.

“Sounds like you had a good time,” I suggested. “So what was the name of the play.”

“A revival of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” She explained.

“Ah ‘Holly Golitely’ at her best,” I said. “How was Louise’s granddaughter?”

“Ed she is 16 and was made for Broadway. She was gorgeous,” Alison explained.

I had to laugh. “She could become famous and perform a benefit for the residents of the haven.”

“Are you kidding we couldn’t afford that,” Alison said. “I doubt we could afford them now. Let alone when these kids are big stars. If they ever make it to that level.”

“I see, well what do you want to do tonight? That is assuming you want to do anything?” I asked.

“Well, I thought that since we didn’t have to wait for the weekend, we could pick up some take out and make it an early night, so I can be up to the walk tomorrow.

“What do you mean, I’m an old man. You wear me out,” I said it with a laugh.

“Right, I’m the one who can hardly get out of bed the next day. She assured me.

“Well, do you have to type tomorrow?” I asked.

“No, but what do you have in mind,” she asked.

“We could spend the morning in bed,” I suggested.

“Then go somewhere nice for lunch,” she suggested.

“Sure why not,” I agreed.

“Now you have me worried,” she informed me.

“Why is that,” I asked.

“What have you done, so bad that you are being this nice to me?” she asked.

“Absolutely nothing, I just missed you,” I said.

“Why don’t I believe that,” Alison said.

“I can’t believe that you think I have a less than honorable reason to be a gentleman around you,” I said.

“I know you Ed Rogers and you don’t just change your spots for no reason. What’s up?” Alison asked.

“Lets go down and spend the day tomorrow in Chapel Hill. You can bring your car and we can make lots of photographs and recordings. We might even find something you can use,” I suggested. “If you are going to write about the town, you might want to have a clue how it feels to walk over the streets at night.” I said.