Chapter 12. The Way They Were
Twenty years passed by. In a parole board hearing room, Tom, salt and pepper hair, sat and stared. One eye closed and half his face was badly scarred. His good eye twitched as he listened to an old lady.
“The petitioner’s request for parole is denied," said the woman.
Dave, thirty-six and distinguished looking, and his secretary, Jan, exited the Capital building in Providence. Smartly dressed in a worsted wool sports jacket and tie, Dave descended the stairs quietly. Thinking over what he was about to say to his current lover. There were many flames but no truelove over the last two decades, nothing serious. Jan might have been his longest on and off relationship. It was time to end it permanently.
Jan was an attractive woman in her late twenties. Still shaken from a bawling-out she went down the steps by her boss's side without saying a word. She had promised Dave that Tom would be paroled after being assured by someone on the parole board there would be no problem. Since she had no idea what went wrong, all she could do was apologize. Dave, normally cool and calm, went ballistic. After the scolding he made several phone calls. The last one surprised Jan a great deal. He arranged to have an airline stewardess fired. She could guess who but couldn't understand why.
About ten feet from the stairway, Jan stopped and placed a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Is something else bothering you? You seemed so tense today. Even before that letdown."
Dave stood still, facing Jan. "Yeah, my conscience is troubling me."
"Do you want to tell me about it, tonight over dinner?"
"Sorry Jan. We're through. I plan on seeing her again, starting tonight."
"Why are you so infatuated with her?"
"I guess Cupid shot me with his arrow when I was ten and I can’t remove it."
Outside during a prison yard fresh air break forty prisoners stood around in small groups chatting. Tom stood alone eyeing a fly buzzing around in front of his face. He grabbed it, slammed it to the ground and stepped on it. Roger, tall, muscular, one ear, strolled up to Tom. “I heard. Ya can’t catch a break.”
“It’s that wop and his kid, got to be. That murdering little fuck is a congressman now. They know I’ll be looking them up when I get out.”
“You’ll end up in here again. It’s not worth it.”
“It’s what I live for.”
“What if the boys didn’t do it?”
“Florence told me they did.”
“You said she was dead when you got home.”
“She was.”
Cookie in flight attendant clothing strolled by the airport lounge. Dave jumped off a barstool and chased after her. “Cookie,” he called out
Cookie stopped and turned. “Hello, Dave. It’s been awhile.”
“About ninety-nine weeks. You still look fantastic. Put on a few hundred pounds. Then maybe I can get over you. May I buy you a drink?”
“Sure. I’d love a C C and ginger, Mr. Congressman.”
Dave escorted Cookie to a booth inside the lounge. “I still think about you every
day. You haven’t been returning my calls, lately. I miss our friendly chats.”
“I’ve been so busy, but I’ll have more free time now. I was just fired.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Have dinner with me tomorrow night, please?”
“Okay.”
Dave smiled. “Dancing afterwards?”
“We'll have to see about that later.”
Cookie entered her small apartment. Linda, watching television, sat on a love seat with her feet on a coffee table.
“I ran into Dave at the airport,” Cookie said as she approached her roommate. “I’m going out with him tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll start dating him on a regular basis. He’s still crazy about me and he’s rich.”
“Money isn’t everything. Think about it.”
“I have. We talked for quite awhile. He said he arranged another parole hearing scheduled for tomorrow. He's pulled some strings and he's extremely confident my dad will be released shortly.”
Tom and Roger stood away from the other prisoners, talking. “Be cool. Tell them what they want to hear. Don’t blow it this time.”
“I ought to add them fuckers to my payback list. I can only guess what changed their minds.” Tom looked up at the sky. “Thank you, Florence!”
Inside a fancy restaurant Cookie held Dave’s hand affectionately. “Thanks again. He’s going to get out.”
“Good. I’m happy for both of you.”
“There’s something wrong with him. Sometimes he scares me.”
“Once he’s out of that place, he’ll change. We can help him, together.” Dave stood, walked over to her and pulled a ring out of his pocket as he got on a knee. “Cookie, I adore you. I have since the day I first saw you. Will you marry me?” He showed her a diamond ring.
"Yes, I’ll marry you.” They embraced.
A baby lay screaming in a bassinet. Another baby about two, wearing only a diaper, ran around the house trailer. Seven-year-old Candy sat on a couch staring into a View Master. Lumpy, thinning hair sat at the kitchen table eating franks and beans. Rose, plump and unkempt, shouted at him. “Borrow from Dave. He’s loaded.”
“I owe him too much already. Try going to the bingo just twice a week,” Lumpy shouted back as he arose from a cheap metal chair.
Rose, carrying a clean diaper, walked over to the screaming baby. “Someday I’ll win the jackpot. Then we can move out of this dump.”
Lumpy headed for the living room area and sat next to Candy. “Can I take a look?”
Candy nodded, handing him the View Master.
Lumpy held the toy in front of eyes, viewing a large orange orangutan sitting in a cage. “That's grandma Mello, your mom’s mother.”
Candy took it back and peered into it. She giggled. “That’s not grandma. It’s a monkey.”
Rose yelled at Lumpy. “Ya betta watch what ya tell her. It could get back to my mother.”
“That was an orangutan, Candy.” Lumpy glanced at his wristwatch. “Well, my cab’s waiting. I gotta go to work.” He kissed Candy on the cheek and then headed for the door.
Candy waved. “Goodbye daddy.”
Rose handed Candy a five dollar bill. "I need you to run to Cumberland Farms."
Candy skipped up a residential street by manicured lawns, pink and red azaleas, purplish-blue and lavender-pink rhododendrons and Japanese maples.
Wanda sat on the steps in front of her house and noticed her classmate. She stood and ran over to Candy.
“Hi, Wanda. Wanna go with me to the store?”
“Okay.”
The girls shuffled up the street. “My mom’s making a cake for my mean grandmother. She needs eggs.”
“Is she mean to you?” Wanda asked.
“Yes. She won’t let me go in her livin’ room. She says, ‘That’s for company.’”
The girls reached the top of the street and stepped onto the sidewalk that ran along the main street. Wanda said, “I’ll race ya to the store.”
“Okay,” Candy said as she took off and stayed a yard ahead. She looked back at Wanda.
“You cheated,” Wanda howled.
The girls raced down the sidewal
k and across a side street. They continued to race down the footway. As Candy approached the next side street, she turned her head and smiled at Wanda. As Candy ran onto the asphalt there was a loud screeching sound of a moving car stopping suddenly. Candy turned. The car came to a complete stop just barely striking Candy. She was slammed down. The back of her head hit hard against the pavement.
Lumpy and Rose sat in front of a dark skinned doctor. Rose cried and shook uncontrollably. Red, choked-up, barely said, “You said she was going to be okay.”
The doctor had an Indian accent. “Yes, but there was extensive swelling of the brain. The pressure of her brain against her skull stopped the flow of blood to her brain. I’m sorry.”
Lumpy sat alone on his sofa holding a picture of Candy. He stared at it while tears ran down his cheeks. He wept.
Jimmy sat on a bed inside a trailer. The Kiss of Death (1947) played on the television.
Richard Widmark talked to an old woman sitting in a wheel chair. “You’re worse than him, tellin’ me he’s comin’ back. Ya lyin’ old hag.” Widmark took an extension cord and tied the woman to her wheel chair. He opened a door and pushed her out of the room. He giggled as he pushed her down a flight of stairs.
Jimmy stared at the television. He giggled like Widmark did until there was a loud knock on the door. In a deep voice, someone yelled out, “Ya ready, Jimmy?”
Later that night Jimmy and a young black man stood in a corn field. They pointed handguns at two men dressed in police uniforms. One officer, very tall, held his hands high in the air as he eyed Jimmy marching up to him.
“What’s your name?’ asked Jimmy.
“Ted,” answered the man.
Jimmy moved his gun, slowly, from side-to-side. “You scared, Ted?”
Ted nodded.
“You should be. I heard of The Lindbergh Law.”
“No! It’s not what you think.”
“Good bye, Ted.” Jimmy shot the policeman in the face.
Ted fell to the ground.
The other police officer ran into deep the corn field, screaming, as Jimmy, giggling fired five more rounds into Ted.
“Cut, cut,” the director yelled as he walked up to Jimmy. “Great job but not quite like Richard Widmark's laugh. Almost! Let's try it again."