The Jewel Box (10 page)

“I like your dress,” Gabriel said with a glance that validated his sincerity.

“Thank you, my friend. And I like your shirt and slacks, but you need to look for some sawdust cologne. You’re just not the same without your signature scent.”

“Yeaaah?” he drawled almost shyly, opening the passenger door of his brand spanking new white Ford Ranger pickup truck.

“Wow, I’m surprised you left the dealership without customized long horns on your hood.”

“They’re on back order.” He grinned. “I’m in line behind six thousand other Texans.”

I rolled my eyes in a show of distaste.

“Meanwhile I’ve gotta find the perfect ten gallon hat and armadillo belt buckle,” he said while backing out of the driveway.

We headed across town to some little out of the way restaurant to meet Mr. Mid Life Crisis and Little Miss Shit Don’t Stink.

Al was either wearing lifts or had optimistically stacked condoms an inch high in his boots. And Red must have been half asleep when she got dressed. The fashion craze was bare midriffs, but the
haute couture
would
have found her rendition of the Paris attire mind blowing to say the least. All her tube tops must have been dirty. She arrived in a crop top that barely covered her boobs and short shorts that failed to cover her bum, and completed her ensemble with four inch clogs. Gabriel nudged my waist and mumbled something about her shorts begging for mercy. Red overheard his comment, took it as compliment, then flashed him one of her fake smiles. “Damn. Take a look at her face,” he whispered in my ear, “if you can stand it.”

I wish he hadn’t done that. It was like passing the scene of an auto accident and seeing mangled bodies. It’s hard to keep from looking, but even a quick glance can leave you with a nasty memory you’ll not soon forget. One of Red’s eyelashes had come unglued and was dangling with every flutter of her lash as she flicked cigarette ashes everywhere but in the ashtray. Al was too busy getting his ego stroked to notice. But her dangling lash and flicking ashes were diddly, compared to her eating habits. Besides putting out cigarettes in a pat of butter, Red smacked her food and slurped coffee while she talked and laughed at Al’s cornball jokes. I dodged flying spittle. “I’ve seen better table manners on Animal Kingdom,” Gabriel said. Al busied himself manhandling Red with his eyes. Slurping, smacking, and letting go her abrasive laugh, Red intermittently regaled Al with far-fetched tales about her fabulous life. When she started in with some crap about Charlie Manson’s sex appeal, Gabriel pushed his plate aside and crowded into me.

“Puullease.” I whispered to him, “This chick is a bonafide weirdo.”

His lips went against my ear. “She was definitely left in the birth canal too long. And if her eyelash falls into that plate, I’ll guaran-damn-tee you, we’re leaving.”

He had barely completed his sentence when Red dropped egg yolk all over her crop top and failed to notice yolk dribbling down her chin while she blabbed. We’re talking gauche table manners, folks. Familiar with Gabriel’s brutal honesty and total dislike for Red, I prepared for a Woody Allen restaurant scene when he rose from the table. He surprised me. “I told Blondie about the apartments you moved to, and promised to take her over to see them today. She’s looking for her own place, ya know.”

I stood beside him. Red was clinging to Al’s left arm and tossing him sugar coated compliments he was lapping up like ice cream after a
tonsillectomy. She gave him a real sense of pride, you could tell. The odd couple barely noticed our departure.

“I was gettin’ ready to puke,” Gabriel grumbled, opening the truck door for me. “I’d rather chew on rat guts or get kicked in the groin before tolerating the company of that avaricious shrew again.”

“Puke. Rat guts. Groin.” I repeated a few of his words that would’ve once grossed me out. “I’ve always longed to meet a poetic James Joyceian kind of guy.”

“Hey Blondie, does it feel to you like we met on Noah’s ark?”

“Yeah . . . it does.” I reflected. “And thanks for getting us away from those two animals.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Did I mention this apartment complex has furnished models, so you won’t have to buy furniture? It’d be closer to work for you, and easier than drivin’ out to the west side every weekend for me.”

“You’re fun to know.” I leaned against the passenger door with the comfy casualness of a school girl. “But in a strange kind of way.”

“Yeaaah? Well so are you.” His blue eyes sparkled.

“That was the caption by my yearbook photo.” I rolled down the window.

“Fun to know in a strange kind of way?”

“That would’ve been better than just ‘Fun to know.’ Of course, my mother was unhappy it wasn’t ‘Virtuous to know’—ya know.”

“Watch out Blondie, you’re pickin’ up my pitiful grammar.”

I had discussed getting my own place for some time, but a lingering fear that psychopath Wesley might find me again gave me qualms about moving anywhere alone. Hidden behind trees and only blocks from Interstate 45 South, the St. Patrick apartments looked pristine and homey, which made me instantly like them. But when Gabriel asked if I wanted to stop at the office and see a furnished model, I declined. He gave me an understanding nod. “Well, at least you know what the place looks like when you feel more comfortable about moving out on your own.”

“Thanks for bringing me by. Maybe I’ll stop and look at one of the models sometime soon.” I fidgeted with my bangle bracelets.

“You don’t sound very convincing, Blondie.”

“Maybe I’ll enroll in acting classes, Dagwood.”

My sister and her husband had been exceptionally hospitable, and Nikki thought Jimmy was her brother, but we had lived with them for six months. It was time for us to be our own family. Before going to work on Friday, I drove my brand new, blue Ford Mustang to the St. Patrick apartments with security deposit in hand. They were as cozy on the inside as they looked from the outside.

“You made any decisions about moving to the south side?” Gabriel asked, after taking Nikki and me for ice cream on Sunday.

“You’re starting to sound like a lobbyist who suspects I have political power over the rising cost of barley and hops.”

“Am not,” he responded. “I’m just tired of puttin’ so many miles on my truck.”

“Yeah, right.” I reapplied lip gloss. “Well, Ellen and Charles can’t be guardians forever, and I can’t imagine having a better neighbor than Red.”

“Blondie, don’t tell me you moved next door to that disgusting wench.”

“Opposite side of the complex.”

“Thank God.” He helped Nikki out of the truck and watched her skip back inside to play with Cousin Jimmy. “Just let me know when you’re ready to move. I know a mover who does a good job and it’ll only cost you a couple of Budweisers.” He winked, and then crouched down to pat a neighbor’s Welsh terrier who wandered onto the driveway.

“Look at you. You never fooled me with that arrogant façade—I always knew you were human.”

“Yeaaah? Always?”

“Well, initially I thought you were a human affront to society, but I’m incredibly intuitive. It’s a gift God gave me in place of math comprehension.”

“See ya crazy girl,” he said before reaching over to give me a quick kiss.

Yikes. Our lips slipped again. This second mouth-to-mouth was quicker than our first, but triggered identical feelings in me. I shivered. And had a strange sense that Mother’s moral radar was somehow tracking the inappropriate feelings flying through my body.

7

Some 80,000 peaceful demonstrators had gathered in Washington to protest the Cambodian incursion, and in Houston colossal clouds floated across brilliant blue skies making May ninth a lovely Saturday. Great day for a move. I intuitively knew Wesley would never bother me again. Everything just felt right—like on prom night when your lacquered beehive hairdo is impervious to humidity, gale force winds, and the ever-present idiot spewing champagne from a bottle.

Gabriel arrived at my sister’s house in an unusually cheerful mood for someone who worked all morning. My brother-in-law helped pack his truck with boxes of household items I’d bought to replace what Wesley stole, and the two chatted like military comrades who’d spent fox hole time together.

“Can’t I stay a little longer with Jimmy?” Nikki pleaded as they loaded my last box.

“Aren’t you excited to come see our new place?”

“Just one more night, Mommy. Please?”

“Okay. My lovey-dovey.” I kissed her goodbye. “Your uncle Charles is keeping my Mustang to buff out its new bumper dent, so you can stay until Kat brings me back tomorrow.”

“How’d that happen?” Gabriel glanced at it before walking toward his truck.

“My reckless soon-to-be neighbor, Delilah. She backed into us outside our complex office when I stopped to sign final paperwork.”

“Glad no one got hurt.” Gabriel waved at everyone heading back inside, and opened his truck door for me.

“Thank you.”

“Oh I’d do just about anything for a piece of ass, Blondie.”

“Stop it. The day’s too pretty for your silly vulgarities. Even the clouds look like giant scoops of whipped cream.”

“Cumulus clouds,” he enlightened. “Usually mean fair weather, but sometimes they form thunderheads when it gets really hot. Some even carry rain.”

“Thank you Mr. Wizard.”

“Anytime.” He cranked the engine, turned up the radio to
Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In,
and loudly accompanied the 5th Dimension.

“Sing along, Blondie.”

“Tiny Tim sings better than me.”

“C’mon,” he insisted when Smokey Robinson started singing
The Tracks of My Tears.

Didn’t take much urging before I chimed in. Thankfully the windows were rolled up as we harmonized in pathetic white folk voice along with Motown greats all the way across town. With a background of great music, we discussed everything from Pan Am’s first commercial journey by a Boeing 747, to white lipstick and black lights until we reached the St. Patrick Apartments. Gabriel lugged box after box inside, hesitating only to harass me about my habit of walking on my tiptoes while I unpacked and placed my new things.

“Ay Chihuahua,” he shrieked, and dropped a box when he walked into the bedroom.

“Silencio José.” I plugged in my radio. “I like my nicely furnished apartment. It’s an eclectic mix of furniture, but at least my living and dining rooms are decorated in traditional style.”

“Nothing wrong with Spanish décor in a bedroom.” He frowned.

“Well it wouldn’t be so horrendous if I hadn’t had a moment of Andy Warhol warpism, and bought the red bedspread to accent the Spanish theme.”

“Whose huge matador wall hanging is that?”

“Told you, I was having an Andy Warhol moment.”

“You planning on entertaining Don Juan’s ancestors?”

“I’m planning on grabbing a quick shower while you grab that last box, please. I’m a grimeball.”

“Impossible. Says the worker bee to the queen.” He sailed by, his sawdust scent lingering in the air.

I took a speed shower and threw on my button down sundress before walking into the living room where Gabriel was singing
You’ve Made Me So Very Happy
along with Blood, Sweat, and Tears. “Group named themselves after hearing Winston Churchill use the term in one of his speeches.”

The guy was a real receptacle of musical trivia. “You’re certainly in a great mood.”

“You noticed?”

“Gabriel if you were wearing a mood ring its illumination would blind us.”

He didn’t respond and a weird quietness filled the room. The move had come to an end, and the time for Gabriel to leave had commenced.

“Well, Blondie, that’s the last box. Unless you left something at your sister’s.” He held out his right hand and briskly rubbed his thumb across the tips of his fingers.

“Circulation problem?”

“Just a habit.” He casually pulled a Marlboro from the pack and fired it up. “Didn’t we leave a box behind? Forget something at the store? New element charts. Fishing tackle. Pickled pig feet. Kerosene, mariachis, world atlas, abacus. Anything? Surely there’s something else we need to do.”

Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected was babbling.

“Guess I can call to see if Charles finished working on my car so you could take me back. Otherwise I have to impose on Katie-Laura tomorrow. She’s covering my shift tonight.”

“Uh.”

“That’s profound commentary.”

Not responding with his usual flippant retort, he shuffled momentarily at the front door when radio music got interrupted by a report about Walter Reuther dying in a plane crash. Gabriel made some comment about the UAW, and then awkwardly cleared his throat. I sat on the arm of my rented sofa and nervously scraped off nail varnish just as
My Cherie Amour
came across the air waves. I briefly lost my balance, but didn’t topple onto the floor. Singing along with Stevie, Gabriel walked over, stood squarely in front of me, looked into my eyes as he removed the Marlboro from his lips, and then put his hand behind his back. I shifted uncomfortably. A stream
of smoke drifted up over his shoulders as he leaned forward and placed a long kiss on my lips. His lips were so soft, so warm, and so moist on mine, I melted. “Don’t kiss me that way unless you mean it.” I giggled nervously, trying to calm down. Trying to harness the feelings flying through my body. Trying to make the room stop spinning. And trying to return the atmosphere to a wholesome one. MARRIED MAN! I screamed internally.

Gabriel placed his Marlboro in an ashtray I had purchased just for him, and in a cautious voice said, “I do mean it.” His hand rose to my face and he repositioned his lips on mine.

My body trembled as goose bumps began breaking onto my inner thighs from the feel of his hand gliding across my cheek. Feeling his damp hand, I knew he was as apprehensive as me when he began kissing each of my fingers in turn. An involuntary chill swept through my body as he effortlessly swooped me into his arms, and gently kissed my lips, my nose, and my eyelids, while carrying me into my bedroom.

Everything seemed in slow motion as Gabriel placed me onto that hideous red bedspread. Feeling a blend of guilt, passion, and intoxication, I absorbed his scent like a human sponge, wanting to seize as much of his aura as possible. Through our clothing, I felt his body pulsating as he slowly moved back and forth across me, his rough and calloused hands gliding ever so gently as he unbuttoned my dress, touching, sampling, and tenderly caressing newly exposed skin. And just when he had ignited a panoply of unknown desires in me, he stopped abruptly, jumped up, and stood beside the bed. I sighed a mixed-emotion sigh, thankful he was strong enough to leave before we did anything wrong.