Unexpected Angel (9 page)

Norman said his father had been born and raised in Puerto Rico, and his mother had come from South Carolina.  That was all Norman ever said about his family.  If he were asked about them, he simply changed the subject.  Norman was proud of his Hispanic heritage, and he was bilingual.  He predicted that, one day, the state would start hiring interpreters to help with the increasing number of Hispanic clients who were coming into the Employment Bureau or going to Health and Human Services to apply for assistance.  Norman was a natural candidate for such a job, but he encouraged Wally to learn Spanish because he thought Wally might also like to be an interpreter.  That way the two could still work together.  Strange dude, that Norman.  A sexy hunk sought by the ladies, yet still concerned so much for Wally and his activities.

As Wally crossed the parking lot, he made the decision not to go home right away, or even to go to Walmart, or the grocery store, or the mall.  He would try something he rarely did.  He would eat out.  He would be around people.  He wouldn’t miss Tony so much.  Oh, Tony!  What was he going to do about Tony?

Wally didn’t know much about the restaurants in Brockton.  He reckoned there were plenty of them, both fast food and traditional. Yes, he was familiar with the food court at the mall, but this did not seem appropriate, today.

What came to mind was a family-style restaurant, The Dinner Bucket, just two blocks from his apartment in Poplar Hill.  They had a good selection of sandwiches.  Their daily specials were excellent.  However, Wally didn’t enjoy dining alone. That was his only reason for not going there often, at least the only reason he gave to other people.  He had heard there was always a nice crowd of, decent, church-going, hard-working people, come dinnertime. He probably knew many of them.  He imagined they were rather sociable, perhaps stopping briefly at each other’s tables, just to say “hi,” while they were waiting for their food.  He knew of folks from the same church, the same office, or the same family who would push several tables together to enjoy the fellowship–laughing, talking, and gossiping.  Oh, sometimes they might get a bit noisy, but it was respectable noise, commotion that Wally could handle today.  He needed people. But, before today, he had been reluctant to seek them out.

As he parked in the lot at his apartment building, Wally figured he might as well go straight to the restaurant.  It was nearly 5:30.  If he went upstairs to his place, he might not come back out.  Going to the restaurant would allow him to be part of the crowd.  It would help him not to think about Tony being gone.

It wasn’t long after Wally entered the door of The Dinner Bucket that the homey atmosphere of the place began to put him at ease.  The dining room was almost full.  He wondered if there would be a table for him. He would stand for a moment, just past the cashier’s counter, in hopes that Daisy, the waitress, might see him and direct him to a table.

The owners of the restaurant were fortunate to have Daisy on the staff.  She had become somewhat of a fixture around the place. She had a knack for learning the likes and dislikes of nearly every person who dined there.  Once, someone had asked how she knew so much about the patrons.  “I don’t have a clue,” she answered. “I reckon it’s part of my job.”

It wasn’t just the food and the atmosphere that brought people into the restaurant.  Daisy was an attraction in herself.  She wore crinolines and ruffled blouses, a fashion straight out of the fifties.  Her overdone lipstick and mascara highlighted a warm smile. She constantly chewed gum, often with an occasional popping noise, though she was quick to tell all that it wasn’t bubble gum.  Her trademark, however, was her cowgirl hat, which she wore atop a pageboy hairdo.  She had a hat to match each of her skirt-and-blouse outfits, and a few others with rhinestones for special occasions.

Only a minute or so had passed before Daisy greeted Wally in her elegant southern drawl.  “Why, Wally Jackson.  So nice to see you all.  Land sakes, honey.  It’s been a spell since y’all been here.  We don’t have no empty tables, but Pastor Bob, from your church, just came in not two minutes ago.  He is by himself.  Do you think y’all would mind eating together?”

“I don’t mind as long as he doesn’t mind,” quipped Wally.

“Well, honey, he doesn’t mind.  I’ve done asked him.  Pardon me, but I didn’t think you wanted to sit with the Widow Jeffries.  Why it ain’t been six weeks since her husband dropped dead coaching a ball game, and she’s already gone man crazy.  I don’t like to talk about people, but she’s a mess.  She’s done caused several little scenes in here, just in the past week.  You don’t need that. I’ll put one of her busybody friends with her if they come in.

As Daisy ushered Wally to Pastor Bob’s table, he noticed some folks from Fairmont Avenue Pentecostal Church who had arranged three rectangular tables in a row so they could all sit together. They were well into their meal and seemed to be engrossed in a pleasant conversation mingled, here and there, with hearty laughter.  These were gracious, warm, and caring people, some of the friendliest in town.

Irma Jean Wildey, who was sitting at the table with the Pentecostals, waved her hand, as Wally passed by, and greeted him.  As usual, she spoke loud enough to draw attention from tables nearby.  “Lord love your soul, honey.  I’ve not seen you for a while.  Did you know I am playing the piano down there at this church?”

Wally smiled and nodded. It appeared that Irma Jean was about to strike up one of her discourses, emphasizing her prowess at the keyboard and her importance to the congregation, but Daisy motioned for Wally to move on to his table.  He was relieved.  Irma Jean wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. She manipulated everybody, threatening to get upset, or to resign from this or that.  People were so tired of her temper flare-ups that they generally let her have her way.  Besides, she and her husband, Irving, put a pile of money in the offering around the first of each month.  She had a way of magnifying minor disagreements to a level somewhere just shy of Armageddon.  So, people usually smiled and talked syrupy sweet around her.  And, if something of major importance was on the horizon, they would try to have a meeting about it when Irma Jean and Irving were out of town on one of their trips. They were both retired.

Pastor Bob, the local Presbyterian minister, was sitting at one of the booths that lined the inside wall of the dining room.  He was a young man in his early thirties, with short auburn hair and a goatee.  He was unmarried when he first came to this church.  After five years in the pulpit, he was still unmarried, despite many attempts by the Lady’s Afternoon Circle to match him up.

“Good evening, Wally,” said Pastor Bob motioning for him to sit down. “Daisy tells me there are no empty tables.  As I have no one to eat with, this is perfect.  I told her to bring you on over here. I have something to talk to you about.”

Wally took his seat.  Pastor Bob was a nice enough fellow.  Wally would enjoy his company. He discovered that the pastor had ordered the special for the day, country steak and gravy.  He would do the same.  Wally gave Daisy his order when she came back with his iced tea and silverware.

When he was sure that Daisy was out of earshot, Pastor Bob leaned toward Wally and spoke softly.  “You actually saved the day for me.  Do you see the Widow Jeffries over there at that small table?  I hear she is trying to find her a new husband.  I am right sure she has been making eyes at me.  You know how you can just feel those things.  She is in her late forties, don’t you know?  I don’t think we could have a thing in common.  Now, that you are here, she will leave me alone.”

“Well,” said Wally, “I can see why you wouldn’t want to get hooked up with her.  But, some of the younger ladies in Poplar Hill think you’d be a handsome catch.  Tell me, why haven’t you married one of them?”

Pastor Bob’s face grew serious.  “Actually, I may never get married.  I do believe I am called to singleness.  And how about you, Wally?  Why haven’t you landed a nice girl to be your wife?  You’re not getting any younger.”

Wally was on the defensive, but he tried not to appear upset.  “My reasons are a bit different.  I imagine you’ve heard about that.”

“Yes, I have,” remarked Pastor Bob.  “I really can’t give you any insight there.  Our denomination doesn’t frown on sexual diversity like it used to.  So, it’s really a matter between you and God.” Pastor Bob took a sip of his tea and went on.  “Putting all that aside, you are a good organist.”

“Thank you,” said Wally.  “I feel called to play the organ. It’s like it is part of who I am.”

“What concerns me,” said Pastor Bob, “is that sometimes you seem distracted, like something is bothering you.  Is it that Tony guy, the one you went to visit in jail?”

During the course of the meal, Wally unloaded the tale of Tony Danforth.  As they talked, Pastor Bob warned him not to let people take advantage, and not to consider Tony a valid partner unless he changed his behavior.

A commotion near the center of the dining room distracted Wally and Pastor Bob. It was loud enough to grab the attention of Irma Jean and the Pentecostals.  They immediately shut up.  It was disturbing enough to bring a hush over all the folks in the dining room. Well, not everybody.  One little boy could be overheard saying, “Mommy, I gotta go pee.”  But, the kid had to wait because his mommy was paying attention to an altercation between the Widow Jeffries and Ethel Sue Lawson.  Ethel Sue, a short, stout, sassy woman, had just walked into the Dinner Bucket, sashayed over to the widow’s table, and slapped her with a smack that could be heard back in the kitchen with the garbage disposal running.

“You two-bit harlot,” screamed Ethel Sue as she pulled the Widow Jeffries by the hair. What gave you the right to take
my
husband to
your
bedroom?  Sure, I know he’s too hot-blooded for his own good.  But
you
had no right to entice him.”

A chair turned over.  A plate crashed to the floor.  Silverware rattled.

“Ouch!” Let go of my hair you bar-hopping hussy.  All I did was to ask him to change a tire.”  The Widow Jeffries kicked Ethel Sue in the shin, then lost her balance.

Now the two were rolling on the floor, pulling each other’s hair and screaming.

Ethel Sue yelled, “Since when does a man change a tire, and then sneak out the kitchen door after dark?  You’re an evil bitch and a bad influence on your kids.”

“Look who’s talking,” yelled the Widow Jeffries.  “You served liquor in a bar when you were just barely eighteen.  I’ve heard tales of all the men you were with, and how much they paid you.”

“Listen here, you slut!” screamed Ethel Sue.  “I repented of my sinful ways and
I
found the Lord.  Me and Henry go to church every Sunday.”

The two rolled into the legs of a table nearby, with such force, that the salt and pepper shakers slid off, the napkin holder clanked to the floor, and the ubiquitous ketchup bottle, with the lid not screwed on tight, tumbled over the edge. Before it reached the floor, it lost a big portion of its contents on Ethel Sue, slipping across her blouse, and slopping onto the tile.

“Oooooew, “ screamed Ethel Sue.

About that time three police cruisers, with blue lights flashing, pulled up in front of the building.  Poplar Hill hadn’t had this much excitement since Buzzy Wentworth’s backyard moonshine still blew up.  Everybody, including law enforcement, had been suspicious of that funny-looking shed in the backyard, but no one could prove enough to get a search warrant. Others suspected that the mayor received a jug of brew, now and then, as a payoff.

The three officers left the engines running and the lights flashing on their cruisers, a sign to the whole town that something was amiss, and it
was
being dealt with.

Sergeant Jack, Sergeant Dinky, and Lieutenant Alfonso marched into the room like storm troopers going into battle.  Sergeant Jack put his hands on his hips and spoke, “I have been asked by the owner of this establishment to escort you two ladies off the premises.  You will appear in city court this coming Monday at seven o’clock in the evening to explain your actions to the judge.  Until that time you will not reenter this restaurant, nor will you speak to each other on the phone or in person.”

Sergeant Jack turned and walked toward the door.  The other officers ushered the two females out.

The light-hearted family atmosphere in the dining area resumed almost immediately.  Wally grinned as he imagined all the groups of diners, now conversing about the same thing, each of them adding a juicy bit of background, some defending Ethel Sue, others trying to gain sympathy for the Widow.

Pastor Bob smiled at Wally and winked.  “Now, buddy, do you see why I remained unmarried?

The two walked to the checkout to pay for their meals.  On their way, they got a glimpse of Daisy, back in the kitchen, doing an imitation of Ethel Sue.

Wally thought, sometimes I wish I could be gutsy, like Ethel Sue, and beat the snot out of Tony.

Tony’s brother, Charlie, owned a rambling farmhouse on the outskirts of Northbrook, a town about thirty miles from Poplar Hill.  There was enough land near the house to raise a few horses and have a nice fenced-off area for the kids to play.

Tony did not get along with Charlie’s wife. She and Tony were both headstrong and opinionated–each refusing to budge in an argument.  As a result, Tony stayed away from the farm unless he had worn out his welcome everywhere else.

Tony couldn’t pay the money back to Wally, right now.  He figured he’d best be moving on.   Wally didn’t know that was the reason Tony left.  He would have to figure it out.  If Wally felt abandoned and unloved, that was his problem.  Better to leave him in that condition than for Wally to get fed up and call Tony a no-count freeloader.  Wally might not actually say those words, but he would be thinking them, to be sure. Tony preferred to disappoint Wally rather than make him mad.  He loved Wally, but it wasn’t convenient to be in love at the moment.