went dead again. She doesn’t mince words, which means she won’t try to talk me to death.
He showered and shaved carefully, and put on a light pair of slacks, along with his soft Florsheim shoes. His feet felt light as he tripped down the stairs a little before six, he lit a cigarette and waited by the curb.
Soon a black Caddy slid up to the curb. He leaned against the door of the car, “I forgot to ask your name.”
“It’s Sue Rankin. You ready to go, honey?”
He opened the door and got in to the smell of the strong sweet perfume that permeated the car. She had the air conditioner running full blast against the Georgia heat. She had on a skirt cut just above her knees and a low V cut blouse that didn’t leave much guess work at her ample cleavage.
“You married, honey?”
“Yes, my wife is back in New York.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“My company sent me down to take over the Augusta office. I had to come or get fired. End of story.”
“Gee, that’s rotten, honey,” she said in her husky voice. They rode in silence for the next few minutes, but he was aware of her every move.
“Here it is.” She pulled into a large gravel parking lot, next to a large low, rundown building that had seen better days. They got out and entered the door of the bar, where several sat drinking. There was a live band, just tuning up on the stage. They found a table in the middle of the room, and sat down, while a waitress took their order for drinks. The band messed around a while then a singer cut loose with ‘House of The Rising Sun’.
“Let’s dance.” She said, reaching for his hand.
He got up with her and moved to the center of the dance floor. Very soon she began to get warmed up, and the girl could dance. Soon others began to come to the dance floor, and the floor began to get crowded as more came in. The band played one song after another, only giving about a minute and a half between songs. They would walk back to the table to take a sip of their drinks to hold back the heat. Sweat popped out on their foreheads as the beat and thump of the drums beat the age-old call to celebrate life. She danced up to him and wiggled her large breasts back and forth, and laughed at his eyes. Gee whiz lady, if Linda saw this, she would divorce me.
After about 10 songs, the band announced a break, and they went back and flopped in their seats, exhausted.
“You like to dance, don’t you?” He said after he got his breath.
“Yeah, you seemed to do alright too, honey.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“Yeah, I have a little girl who’s five; you?”
“Naw, we haven’t had time for kids – the jobs and all.”
“Don’t you like kids?”
“Oh yes, I love them, it’s just that we decided they would interfere with our careers.”
“Workaholics huh?”
“You might say that.”
“I just did. You seem like a nice guy.”
“Thank you. I return the compliment.”
She looked at him with a jaundiced eye. “Now you’re not being honest; I liked you better when you were honest.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can tell.” She got a faraway look in her eyes.
The band started up again. “Come on, baby.” She got up and held out her hand to head back to the dance floor.
“I don’t think I can last much longer; I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, honey. Just two more songs and we’ll split for home.”
They danced the next dance, and then the one after that was a slow dance. As she held him tightly, he drank in her sweat smelling hair and her perfume as the dance oozed on. The dance ended, and they walked back to the table for her purse. The evening was one of those rare balmy evenings as they drove back to Augusta.
The next Friday the phone rang on his desk as he stood by the window, trying to get a breath of fresh air.
“Joel, I need you to come home tomorrow. Can you do that?”
No “Hello,” no “How are you?” It was as if his wife was handling a piece of business with a customer.
“I thought we agreed that I would only come home once a month, to save money.”
“Yes, but I need to see you, OK?”
“OK, I’ll catch the red eye in the morning.”
At four sharp he was on the prop job to Atlanta, would switch planes, and fly directly to New York. He got off the plane in New York by eleven, and caught a taxi to their apartment.
“In for a stay, Mr. Callahan?” the doorman greeted him as he exited the taxi.
“No, just tonight, I’m afraid.”
As he got out his keys to the apartment, the door opened, and his wife stood there, looking surprised.
“I thought you would be later.” Linda kissed his cheek. He kissed her lips, but it was like kissing a fish.
“I caught the 4 a.m. red eye to Atlanta,” he said tiredly, as he entered their apartment, walked over to the recliner, and sat down.
“What did you want to see me about?”
She walked over to the bar and mixed them drinks. She handed him his, then walked back over to the bar and stood sipping her drink, as if she was in deep thought.
“Joel, I want a divorce. There’s no way to make this easy, so I decided to be straight up.”
“And when did you decide this?”
“A while ago, to be honest.”
“Have you been seeing someone?”
“Yes, his name is Ricky Sterns. He works in our office.”
“I didn’t need to know who he was. Did I ask you that?”
“No…you didn’t, but you might as well know now as later. I don’t want a messy divorce, Joel. Are you going to make it messy?”
He looked at his wife of 10 years. She looked hard, her face pinched. He saw neither kindness nor joy. She was not the same person he married, but then, neither was he. Why don’t I feel anything? This is all so wrong, yet I don’t feel anything. Do I really care? No. I don’t think I do.
“No, I’m not going to make a scene. I’m going back to Georgia today; in fact, on the first plane out. You can have the divorce papers drawn up, split the money down the middle, and have my part transferred to the First Savings Bank in Augusta.”
He reached for the phone to call the airport. They gave him a three o’clock flight, and he picked up his bag and headed toward the door. She stood looking after him as though he was some delivery boy who had brought her groceries. She never said a word, and he opened the door and walked through it.
He wondered how long their marriage had been dead, as he walked down the hall to push the button on the elevator. He passed the doorman on the way out, but the doorman said nothing. He knew something was up when Joel returned in 20 minutes with his suitcase in his hand. Joel flagged a taxi. The taxi eased over, and he opened the door.
“Goodbye, Joe.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Callahan,” the doorman said softly and sadly.
Hell, the doorman cares more than my wife does.
“JFK; and I need to be there in 20 minutes.”
“You got it.”
Twenty minutes later Joel was walking toward gate 10, and three hours later he exited the prop job in Augusta.
He went straight to his apartment and called his bank to let him know if, and when, a wire transfer took place.
The heat was barely leaving as the sun went down on Augusta, Georgia, in the middle of July. The sweat beaded his forehead as he made himself a pot of coffee to head off the jet lag which he knew was surely heading his way.
He kicked off his shoes and sat down and stared at the ceiling. Marriage…gone, half my savings…gone, and here I sit in freaking Augusta, Georgia, the pinnacle of success. Ha! Then the tears of frustration came. He wept until he went to sleep in the chair. He was just one more added to the loneliness that plagued so many in Augusta, Georgia.
The next day was Sunday. He puttered around the apartmen
t, looking at it differently now, because he knew it was his home for the foreseeable future. He looked at the picture of him and his wife; he picked it up and tossed it into the trash bin.
Joel slept for two hours, and then awoke with a start. The phone was ringing and the answering machine picked it up, “Joel, this is Sue. If you are there could you please pick up?”
He picked up the phone. “Hello Sue. What’s up?”
“Oh Joel, thank God; I need to ask you a favor.”
Here it comes already, right on time. Why do I let myself get into these predicaments?
“What can I do for you?” he answered in a flat voice devoid of feeling.
“My sister is real sick. She lives in South Carolina, and I need to go down there. I hate to ask, but could you take care of my kid for a few days? I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
He hesitated, then said, “Can’t you ask some of the other girls you work with?”
“Damn it, Joe; they are not girls I work with. If you don’t want to help me just say so!” her exasperated voice cutting like glass through his earpiece.
“No need to get in a tizzy, Sue. I mean, I’m a man, and you don’t even know me that well, and I’m not really the most dependable one a person could call on, you know? I mean I don’t mind