Chapter 12

Saturday, September 22, 2001

The stories set the tone for the rest of the trip. They drove on into the waning day and gathering darkness, telling tales of other times. While Shae had the wilder stories -- and had reason to, considering her friendship with Eve and the places her situation had taken them, as well as Shae's sports and television production experiences -- Dave had a few good ones, too. It made the long trip go quickly and enjoyably.

Well after midnight they reached the I-67 exit off the Indiana Turnpike. The intersection is complicated and confusing to strangers, but they were both familiar with it enough to drive right through it without error.

They weren't on I-67 long; Bradford is the first exit north of the Michigan line, and only a few miles away. As they pulled off the exit ramp, they could see the General plant all lit up on the far side of the road, and the big truck stop across the road from it all lit up as well. On this side of the highway, though, the familiar Chicago Inn was closed for the night. Probably most people who drive by Bradford on the Interstate don't give it much thought; in some ways it's much like a thousand little towns across the country with an Interstate overpass on the edge of town.

In Bradford, the local slang term used to describe kids leaving town after school to find better places, better jobs, is "taking the on-ramp", referring to the freeway to somewhere else. Both Dave and Shae had taken the on-ramp right after high school and hadn't looked back much for years. Shae had been back a few times before her parents left town a few months after she graduated, and over the next several years only dropped by briefly a couple times to visit the grave of a high school classmate. Only at and after the reunion had she begun to renew ties with the people she'd known there.

Dave had taken the on-ramp even earlier. He'd been back a little more seriously and a little more often, but only to visit his mother, usually just for two or three days; he usually stayed around the house and only rarely ran into one of his classmates for a brief meeting in which little more than a "Hi" was exchanged. Now, he was seriously considering returning, at least temporarily, and it was hard to comprehend.

"Oh, shit!" Dave said as he made the turn onto Elm Street, where his mother's house was located.

"What?" Shae asked.

"I forgot to ask Mom for the key to the house!" he shook his head. "Now what do we do?"

"Relax, Dave," Shae said. "I asked."

"Oh, you've got it then? Good!"

"No, I don't," Shae shook her head. "Your mother said she had no idea where it was, she hasn't seen it for twenty years, at least."

"Hoooo ... leeee ... shit!" he breathed. "Toto, I don't think we're in New York City anymore. My God, I can't imagine not locking your house up, ever!"

"I know," she said. "I about stunk up my panties when she told me, too. This is Bradford, Dave, and we are a hell of a long way from New York City. And more than in just miles."

There was a light on in the house when they pulled up. Like houses in many small towns, the front door was the formal door, but the back one was the one commonly used, so it was automatic to go there. On the door were two notes: Give me a call when you get up, maybe we can get together. -- Emily. The other one read, Welcome back to Bradford! The beds are made and the coffee maker is loaded, all you have to do is turn it on. See you at the concert! -- Hazel".

"Nice touch," Shae nodded. "I've heard your mother mention Hazel. Who is she?"

"Her best buddy," Dave explained. "Divorced, about the same time Mom was widowed. She works at the Courier. They hang out a lot together, go places, and have since I was a kid. There's been once or twice over the years I've wondered if it might be a lesbian thing, but I don't think so, just two kindred spirits just as happy to not have to deal with a husband." In truth, he'd thought it more than once or twice, but he didn't like to admit it, even to himself. His suspicion had been pretty strong at times, but if it was the case they kept it well hidden in the gossip-plagued small-town atmosphere.

It was late, and they didn't mess around getting to bed. Dave told Shae to use his mom's bed; it was queen-size and might fit her a little better; he'd make do with the double still in the room he'd used as a kid. Even as he peeled off his clothes, it seemed strange to be there again; he'd grown up in this room, spent over half his life there, but few traces of his presence were left. Even so, it was the first night he'd slept alone in this bed in a decade.

{c}• • •

In spite of the late arrival, they were up fairly early and yawning; while they didn't have anything planned before the concert, they wanted to spend the day soaking up Bradford. Suspecting what Emily might have in mind, Dave gave her a call before he threw the switch on the coffee pot. "Glad you made it all right," she told him. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Hadn't even crossed my mind this early," Dave admitted.

"I thought it might be," she said. "Why don't we meet out at the Chicago in half an hour or so? I'll buy."

"Sounds like a deal to me," he replied.

"Good," she said. "I think I'll call up Dayna and Sandy, see if maybe they'd like to join us."

"Sure, I haven't seen Dayna for years," he smiled. He'd learned in the last few days, especially the day before, that Shae had a delightful if well-hidden wild streak in her; the reputation he'd picked up about Dayna was she didn't cover up much. Or if she did, it had to be wilder yet.

A few minutes later, they were in the car heading back through downtown. It was not unfamiliar; in truth, not much had changed since they'd been in school. Some things were different, of course; the Mercantile, a dry-goods store, was long closed; its elderly owner and his wife had retired, and its place taken by a flower shop and a Subway. That wasn't new; it had happened several years before, but it didn't match memories of when they'd last lived there. There were a few other changes, a couple buildings gone, a windowless phone-switching building added, several storefronts occupied by different stores than they remembered -- but on an overall view, not much changed.

Dave remembered the story Shae had told the night before, of Eve's last morning in town. Literally on her way out of town, expecting never to come back, she'd walked the length of Main Street dressed in a short skirt and tank top. It was the only time she'd presented in public as Eve in Bradford when they were kids, so it was a special graduation of a sort, a rite of passage out of there. According to Shae, Eve had looked so different from Denis that no one had recognized her -- not even Emily, when Eve went into the Spee-D-Mart to get a candy bar and show off. Except for the weak and not very serious attempt at the legendary Halloween party, she'd never presented as Denis again; he was someone literally left here.

The Chicago Inn in Bradford was a little over-named, an aging cinder block building dating back the forty years or so to right after the freeway opened. The locals knew the prices were better than at the busy twenty-four-hour truck stop on the far side of the freeway, the food less likely to cause heartburn, and the service was better and more personal. If you went there very often, the waitresses were likely to know your name and ask how your relatives were doing.

It was the case this morning. It had probably been three or four years since Dave had been in there, but the waitress on duty this morning was another Bradford '88, Liz Goodrow, well, Austin now if he remembered the discussion the other night correctly. She'd put on more than a little weight in the years since they graduated, but she recognized both Shae and him right off. That she would remember Shae was no real surprise, but he was a little surprised when she asked him right off how the kids were doing. It was a few seconds before he realized that being there with the unforgettable Shae identified him without doubt, and she'd undoubtedly heard his story already. "They're probably doing better than I am," he replied honestly.

"I'm real sorry about your wife, Dave," she told him. "Everybody is. It's hard to believe something like that could happen to someone from Bradford. Shae, how's your folks? I haven't seen them in years!"

"Doing fine, still out in Denver, probably will be till Dad retires," Shae reported. "Denver's a haul; I don't see them as much as I'd like to. Not since Christmas, now. How are yours?"

"Oh, about the same," she shrugged. "Just the two of you this morning?"

"No, Emily will be along in a few minutes, probably Dayna and Sandy," Shae grinned. "I wouldn't be surprised at more."

"Me either," she grinned. "Emily put the word out about the concert; we'll have some people from the class in from out of town. Why don't you take the table over by the window; if it grows on us we can shove a couple together. You want coffee?"

"Please," Dave smiled. "We'll hold off on ordering for a while."

The two of them were sitting there a few minutes later, letting the first coffee of the morning reach them. There was a touch of surrealism over sitting in the Chicago Inn in Bradford with Shae; two weeks ago, he would not have believed it, but then, he wouldn't have believed much of the last two weeks, either. They were talking about nothing in particular when they heard a not unfamiliar V-twin roar outside the window. Dave glanced over Shae's shoulder and saw someone in blue jeans and a leather jacket get off of a big motorcycle; it was heavily chromed, with a deeply polished royal blue tank and fenders. Shae swung around to glance over her shoulder as the rider got off, removed her helmet, and shook out her hair -- it was Emily. "It's even harder to believe when you see it," Dave sighed.