Chapter 18: Gladys

Attending Greg and Trisha's wedding was an obligation that could have been avoided; I wouldn't have been missed. On the way back to school, I reflected. This was a good time to make some decisions.

Why had I pussyfooted around and let Charlie take advantage of me? I told myself it was because of his mother. She had asked me to look out for him. But really, I knew in my heart that I was afraid of losing my only male friend. I didn't correspond with anyone from C.M.A. and doubted they even remembered me. Last year, when I attended the homecoming game, even Russell was a stranger. We had nothing in common. He acted like he was in competition with me.

Kent and Skip were members of the small group that met on Friday nights to share pizza, beer and lighthearted conversation, but the group included girls who were always present at the parties. Anyway, Kent and Skip were better friends with one another than they were with me.

Josh and Eddie were loyal to me. I knew why; it was because they were two years younger and looked up to me. Anyway, they were better friends with one another than they were with me.

Ned was a good friend. He had always been there for me. I could count on him for anything. Still, I had to question; was his friendship because he was an employee of my adopted family?

Let's face it; I was alone in the plane and alone in the world. For some unknown reason, Becky had decided not to attend Greg and Trisha's wedding. Was it because she found out I was going to be there? Distraught over my woes, real or imagined, I made a list of missed opportunities requiring action:

1. I had been turning cartwheels to avoid Zelda because I knew that getting involved with someone that young would be trouble. If she persists in offering herself, fuck her.

2. I had discouraged Sheila's advances. If she offers to come to Pontiac, fuck her.

3. If Charlie's girlfriend, Gladys stops by my room again, fuck her.

4. I made no firm plans regarding Charlie, except to vow not to take any more shit from him.

5. Concerning Loretta, fuck her.

6. Concerning Karen Parker, fuck her.

7. Concerning Marcie... ?

The message light was flashing on my answering machine and the phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

"How was it?"

"Marcie, may I call you back?"

"Sure, honey."

"Wait, wait, let me get hold of myself."

"What's wrong?"

"I worked myself into frenzy on the plane and when I walked through the kitchen just now ... crap is scattered all over the place, included at least three empty wine bottles. Talk to me before I commit murder, please talk to me."

She laughed. "Do you know what I think about when I'm feeling down?"

"Don't tell me. Just laugh again. You have the most soothing laugh of anyone I know. I love hearing it."

She laughed again and I sighed, already feeling calm.

"Don't you want to know what I think about?"

"Tell me."

"I think about that day you came to my house and we ran in the woods until we came to a big rock. Do you remember? It's in the sun, flat and warm."

"It's also hard," I said.

"You know what I always say?"

"Yes, but tell me anyway," and then I joined her. "It's got to be hard to be good."

We laughed and I was beginning to relax, until I looked at the bicycle bell above the door and saw that the dowel was missing. "Shit! He's gone too far this time."

"What's wrong, honey?"

"I'm backed up, half the way to the goal line."

"The ultimate penalty," Marcie mused.

"I'm proud of you, sweetie. You know your football."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to punt. I'll scratch my way out of this."

"That's my Sammy," she said, still not asking what set me off. "tell me about the wedding."

"It was ... a disaster from the beginning. There was a party after the rehearsal on Friday night. That's when I found out Becky wasn't coming."

"That's too bad. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing her. Why didn't she come?"

"I didn't find out. I even went by her house. Her mother said she didn't know anything about it."

"So ... did you get to see your other friends?"

"Not really. There wasn't enough time to see Mr. Olsen or Judge Slocum. The wedding was held at noon on Saturday and I drank too much at the reception. Trisha's cousin had to drive me to my motel."

"Trisha's cousin?"

"Yes, she's the only bright spot of the weekend. She's an exact duplicate of Trisha, very Scandinavian, only a year older."

"Did you ... you know?"

"What? Get her telephone number?"

"No, silly, you know what I mean."

"I didn't even get her number. She dropped me off at the motel and I had trouble remembering where I had left my rental car this morning."

"You must have been in a funky mood because Becky didn't show up?"

"I guess so. Today, I took my mom and K.O. to lunch and then I left that town behind."

"Didn't you see your sister?"

"No. I think my mom is raising the kid on her own. He's getting to be a handful."

"What are you going to do about Charlie?"

"You mean, after I kill him? Bury the body, I suppose."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Laugh for me."

"I can't laugh when you're talking about doing something stupid."

"I was only kidding. Laugh for me."

It took her several seconds to generate a laugh that began with a chuckle and evolved into the familiar rumble at the back of the throat that I enjoyed hearing.

"Thanks for laughing. I love you."

"I worry about you," she said before we said goodbye.

"CHARLIE!" I yelled, pounding on his door. There was no answer so I went back to my room and fashioned a pencil to work as the bell trigger. And then, I turned to the answering machine.

The first message was from Sheila, asking that I return her call. Her husband answered.

"This is Sammy, Charlie's friend. May I speak with Sheila?"

"Oh yes, Sammy Oldham. I've heard so much about you. Tell me, did you enjoy fucking my wife?"

"I don't know what you mean, Sir."

"Don't toy with me, Sammy. I have the proof in the backseat of my car. Now tell me if you enjoyed depositing a stain on my leather."

"Yes Sir, I did."

"Are you planning to do it again?"

"Only if you treat her with the respect she deserves, Sir."

"You have a deal, Sammy. Fuck the bitchiness out of her and I'll respect the hell out of her."

The next voice I heard was Sheila's. "How did you like meeting Cyril?"

"I see what you mean about him being crude."

"When may I see you?"

"Charlie thinks he saw us. Are you sure you still want to meet me?"

I heard a sigh and then, "Yes, I still want to meet you."

"Even if I confirm Charlie's suspicions to him?"

"Yes, tell him it's for his own good."

"What do you mean?"

"You heard my husband. He'll be respectful to me if I'm civil to him. Tell Charlie that harmony between us translates into generosity. It's a win, win, win situation. I win, you win and Charles wins."

I considered telling her about the motel where Shirley and I had spent a weekend the year before. "Get a room at the hotel. Their room service is superb so we won't need to go downstairs. I'll be there about four on Friday," I said.

"I can't wait," she said as we hung up.

The next call was someone named Erica. She left a number.

"Hello?"

"Is this Erica?"

"No, I'm her roommate. Who's calling?" The voice was abrupt. I immediately took a dislike to its owner.

"My name is Sammy Oldham. I'm returning a call to someone who left a message on my machine."

"I hate those things," the voice said curtly, and I heard the receiver being dropped.

"Sammy?" This voice was soft, reminding me of a dove as compared to the hawk that had answered the phone. Why are roommates always different? Am I the dove and Charlie's the hawk? Or, is it the other way?

"Yes."

"I was told to call you. This is Erica, Rachel's friend."

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Rachel. You met at her cousin's wedding. She told you that I was coming to school here and you gave her this number. Remember?"

"Rachel is Alice's cousin," I said, more to myself than to ... what's her name ... Erica. It was coming back to me now. Rachel was seated at our table and stuck up a conversation when she found out that Shirley and I were undergrad students at Pontiac College. She mentioned that her friend was coming to the grad shool and I must have agreed to show her friend around.

"Yes, Rachel said to call you ... ah ... is that okay?"

"Erica, next weekend is out, but if you give me your number ... oh, I have it, don't I? Do you like movies?"

She giggled. It was a soft, warm giggle. "I wasn't calling to arrange a date. Why don't you call me when you have some free time and we can get together ... to talk about the schools?"

"I guess you know the schools and for that matter, the towns are completely different?"

"Yes, that's one of the things I'd like to talk about, your experiences, etcetera."

"In that case, let's make plans to have lunch a week from Saturday. I'll pick you up at eleven-thirty and we'll..."

"I'll pick you up," she interrupted.

"Okay, I live above the dress shop on Main Street."

"It's a ... excuse me, I almost said date," she laughed in the soft, dovelike way.

We both laughed, nervously, as we hung up. I pictured her; in my mind's eye. Erica was small with light colored hair and skin, soft to the touch, soft disposition.

I was getting organized for the week ahead when I heard the back door open and Gladys whisper, "He's here.".

Charlie must have heard my footsteps before he saw me because he was crouched, getting set for the onslaught. From the looks of him they had consumed all three bottles of wine that day. I pointed in the direction of the table, floor and countertop.

"We'll take care of it in the morning," he said.

"NOW!"

Charlie stared at me, mouth open, stupefied, like he was seeing me for the first time. Gladys had the same bewildered look on her face.

"Fill some trash bags with the crap, take them out to the dumpster, clean the surfaces, mop the floor and call me when you're ready for inspection. I'll be in my room," I said, turning to leave them.

"Don't tell me what to do. You're not in command here," he said, making the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"I just outlined a step-by-step procedure that should be easy for you to follow. I am in command here. Is that clear?"

Gladys nodded, wanting to appease me. Charlie needed my lurch in his direction to respond. "Yes, Sir," he said, cowering.

It was the better part of an hour before I heard a knock on my door. I looked up to see Gladys, standing in my doorway, T-shirt, short shorts and sneakers, no socks. Her little girl expression was phony. I liked it. "We're ready for inspection, Sir."

"Did Charlie tell you to call me Sir?"

"Yes, Sir, he says you think you're still back at the school you guys attended."

As I approached Gladys I noticed her expression change from pixy to one of wonderment, like she anticipated what was coming next.

"He does, does he?"

She nodded and as an afterthought, "Yes, Sir."

I made a gesture toward my bed. Her eyes followed my hand. "Picture your self on your hands and knees," I said and waited for her to respond.

"Yes, Sir," she said, letting the corner of her mouth betray her enjoyment of the direction our conversation was taking.

"One of the things I look for is a straight back, like a thoroughbred, not a swayback plow horse."

"Yes, Sir," she said, nodding slowly.

"Are you a thoroughbred?"

"Ah," was followed by a shiver throughout her slight body. "Yes, Sir, I think so; I mean ... I'll try."

"Good, lead the way, cadet."

I followed her to the kitchen and at first glance, I could find nothing wrong with the job they had done. Charlie stood motionless; clearly bored with the way I was dragging this out. He wanted to get it over with and be rid of me.