She parks the car near the entrance of the bar. She stares forward at the steering wheel for a second to focus her thoughts. Her attention moves as she readies herself looking at the rearview mirror. She sits and studies the face that looks back at her. A middle age woman she had a youthful look, but today was an exception, as the years of labor and frustration have taken its toll on her. Her bones ache and her body is tired from pulling a double shift at the hospital. Quickly, she begins to fix her hair in the mirror, but then she slowly stops, deciding it does not matter. Opening up the trunk she grabs a suitcase, grunting as she pulls it out, feeling her back about to give out she wrestles the bag to the ground. A shadow from above cast down upon her as the howl of a plane echoes in her head giving her a welcome relief from her thoughts.
The woman enters the bar, luggage in tow, examining the giant glass window that gave her a view of the large landing strip. A plane slowly taxies on the runway. She wonders to herself whether it was coming or going. Her attention quickly shifts as she makes her way into the bar. A group of men are huddled up around the bar laughing and slapping each other on the back. She stops; standing away from the herd, noticing inside the huddle of older men wearing business suites a young man sits holding the group’s attention. She sits off in a corner away from everyone. Out of view from the rest of the room she fixes her gaze upon the young gentleman who entertains the legion of patrons at this, his board meeting.
“One More! One More!” the men began to chant as they slap the counter rousing the young man.
“Does anyone know about Flight 890 to Boston?” the young man says pouring down another drink, “My other flight was delayed so I gotta catch that one.”
The men stared at each other shrugging their shoulders unknowingly.
“Alright one more about the good ol’ days,” the young man says glancing down at his watch, “Then I gotta run and see if this flight will ever get back on track. Damn planes! Great invention, but man if they don’t hold you up. Who’s got this round?”
A man steps up to order drinks for the group. The young man rubs his hands feverishly, concentrating his stare at the men eagerly awaiting his tale.
“Alright well this one is a personal favorite about the all city football championship. This was supposed to be a coronation for the top player of the league. A fella by the name of Irving Cotton.”
A man pipes up, “You played against Irv Cotton? He just made first-team All-American his last season at Alabama!”
The young man stares down the men and soaks in their admirations as they nudge each other over their newfound bar room hero “Damn right I played against that Son-Of-A-Bitch! Hell of a player. Going to the league next year.”
Our hero rolls up his sleeve, but manages to take down a shot in that same moment as if he had three hands before diving back into his story, “Anyway it was old Irv’s last hurrah for this great career of his. Everyone came out that day to see him and crown his ass as the best player alive. You would have thought the President was in town with this crowd. Now this son of a bitch was big, like Andre the Giant big. He was an All Conference, All-State, All-Everything linebacker headed to Alabama to play football. Heard that he broke his dad’s ribs when he was twelve playing touch football. Shoot, I’ve been on the other end of some girls pissed off boyfriend who wanted to hide and tan my ass that were less scary than Irv Cotton.
Well it’s late in the game, our team is just hanging in their down by ten points with about 5 minutes on the clock and our defense holds them and they have to punt. And who do you think comes out to punt the ball?” He stops and takes a drink. He steals a glance over to a pretty blonde woman stirring her drink at the end of the bar. Their eyes meet briefly, a hello of sorts, before he turns his attention back to his audience.
“Well none other than Paul Bunyan Mr. All Conference, All-State, All Everything linebacker headed to Alabama. Well it seems Mr. Everything could not just kick the ball, but he could kick it a country mile. I mean just kick the snot and piss out of the pigskin. And who else, but yours truly, was on the other end of that kick. All 5’6 and a hundred-forty pounds soaking wet, no bigger than a hiccup. I swear to you boys that when he kicked that ball it sounded like a goddamn canon going off. Hell, I almost fell to the ground thinking we were under attack.”
Suddenly, the young man jumps off his chair and all the men take a step back to give him room. He grabs an empty beer bottle and tosses it toward the ceiling to reenact the catch.
“The ball went five stories up and right then a heavy breeze came from my back. Boys’ you know that tingly feeling you get when you’re excited? Well, I had that plus ten. I thought a lightning bolt just struck me in the ass from Zeus himself. The ball came down and just settled right into my arms.” He went into a crouch like a jungle cat. The men alertly back away from this lunatic not knowing how far the young man will pantomime the story.
“Fellas, the play was for a wedge up the middle and God if those boys were not the best soldiers, laying themselves out to make a jailbreak for me. Hell, Moses would have been envious cause the Red Sea didn’t part as much as this wedge my boys’ set up for me.”
The young man begins to heat up. He reaches back to take in a drink. The blonde woman has moved closer to the pack. She listens intently, stirring her drink slowly to this madman tell his story to a captivated audience.
“I take off down the middle of the field like a man on fire. It looks like this jailbreak is gonna see some light. Then that light got extinguished when fifteen yards downfield old Mr. All Conference, All State, All Everything headed to Alabama rears his ugly mug towards me. This is shaping up as a modern day David and Goliath, except I didn’t have a trusty slingshot and rocks to fire at Mr. Irv Cotton. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun. Now it is right here I have a choice and Mr. All Conference, All State, headed to Alabama knows it. I can go to the right or to the left and easily score a touchdown. Pastures are not as wide as the space I had on either side. I see him staring into my eyes cause I’m staring into his. He is planted there waiting for me to give him a clue. Right or left. Well boys a time comes in every man’s life where he comes up to that fork in the road and has to make a decision which way to go. In this instance I chose straight.”
The young man slips back down into the stool. He grabs a beer, slowly sipping it as he observes the eyes looking upon him.
A man steps forward with a quizzical look etched upon his face, “So wait, are you telling us you sacrificed the touchdown and the glory?”
Springing up from his stool the youngster looks over the crowd, “No sir, no sir I am not. The cowardly thing would have been to sidestep him. Lots of people will have a chance to score a touchdown. Not many people go head to head with a challenge like this. No sir, they sidestep or turn around. Not me! Not this time! Nope, I looked him in the eyes and challenged him. You should have seen the look in his eyes. I do believe I caught him in the headlights. Rocketing at him I threw all I had into him and if it was not the most beautiful collision you ever did see. I still get goose bumps thinking about how I rose up out of that car wreck and looked down at old Mr. All Conference, All-State, All everything linebacker going to Alabama laying there- out cold on the ground.”
A unanimous roar was unleashed. The men began to clink their glasses, slapping fives, and hitting each other. The young man sat back with a beaming smile watching these men delight in his glory.
A man hollers, “A round on me in honor of Mr. All Conference, All State, All Everything headed to Alabama! Congratulations Irv Cotton on finding your head after your nap!” All the men roar in approval.
The men giddily down their beers. The men begin to pick up their briefcases or luggage in preparation for their takeoff. The young man picks up a bag of his own then sets it back down just as quickly, patting himself down in search of something.
“Hey there boss,” a man said breaking off from the pack of men leaving, “You coming or what?”
“I can’t seem to find my cash I had in my pocket,” he looks around on the ground continually searching each crevice of his suit, “You know if it’s not a delayed flight, it’s a delayed something. You all go ahead and I will catch up.”
“Here,” the man pulled out a fifty dollar bill, “I’m sure it will show up. You can’t miss your flight.”
“Thanks,” the young man said sheepishly, “You go on ahead with the guy’s. I’m gonna hit the head real quick.”
“Ok, but be quick. You know how these airports are.”
The businessman catches up to the rest of the men walking out of the bar. The older woman clutches the suitcase by her side as she stares sheepishly at the ground, listening while the men pass by her. One man remarking to another, “I can’t believe that. I sure am glad that his flight was delayed. Knocked that guy out cold! Can’t wait to tell that one to the guys back home.”
The young man begins to walk backwards toward the bathroom; his eyes fixate on the men walking out the door. When all of them were gone the young man stops and moves back to his stool at the bar setting down his empty briefcase to the side.
“Charlie,” the young man said sullenly, “another of the same.”
Charlie, the bartender, refilled his glass with the usual- bourbon, “Lively bunch you had that time” remarks Charlie.
The young man looked at Charlie tiredly dropping down a twenty for a tip, “Everyone loves a good story for the road.”
Charlie picked up the tip, “Next group should be coming by pretty soon from New York.”
Our hero downed his shot and loosened his tie a bit more as he shook his empty glass, “Keep’em coming till then.”
The older woman gazed at the young man’s face in the mirror that lay in front of him. The smile that illuminated his face quickly fizzled. The youthful exuberance slumped out of his shoulders and the years began to show upon his face. The flicker in his eyes faded replaced now by a brooding darkness. He sat there slowly rubbing his forehead as if exhausted. The older woman slowly moved towards the stool, placing the bag down she sat next to him.
“How did you find me?” He asked, concentrating on peeling off the label of his beer.
“Do you remember when you were little and you used to beg me to bring you here to the airport? You could sit here all day and just watch the planes come and go. You would never say a word the whole time. You just sat there and watched. I always wondered what you were thinking. Where it was that your mind wandered off to?”
She studies his face, waiting for a moment to see if he will enlighten her. He remains silent, concentrating on his task at hand. The woman watches him, noticing a white bandage peeking out from underneath the cuff of the white dress shirt he is wearing
She sighs before continuing, “When did they let you out?”
“Sunday night.”
“Do you need me to check it? Make sure it’s clean?”
“No,” he said annoyed, “What do you want?”
“I feel like I’m sitting next to a stranger. My son was all heart. He had a brain, two feet and was going to set this world on fire with his passion. The person I’m next to is sitting in a bar watching life fly by on a Tuesday afternoon telling stories to strangers to be their hero.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to know what happened to my son, damn it!”
“The answer is simple-he died. Life wrote him off.”
“That’s funny cause it looks like you wrote life off. It didn’t give you the perks and accolades you thought it owed you and you quit. All I see is a man who made a castle out of sand and is crying because it washed away”
“I apologize that I can’t be like you. Like everyone else. Just another brick in the wall. I played the game. I played by life’s rules, did what it asked of me and you know what- it didn’t amount to shit. It’s over-I lost.”
“And so you cut yourself to feel that rush? You die just to live. You tell stories to make up for what life did not hand you? You will try anything to make up for that numbness that you cast out on the world. Anything but to try and live again.”
He finally looked up at his mother, both staring into each other’s eyes. Eventually, she broke the gaze. Pulling out an envelope she places it on the counter. She slides it carefully in front of him.
“What’s this?”
“A get out of jail free card.”
He opened up the envelope. Inside was a plane ticket.
“I’ve been talking to your father,” she said, “He has a job for you out in California. The plane leaves in an hour. I packed up some things in this suitcase you will need.”
He stared silently at the ticket.
“Son, I know you. I know what you envisioned and what you thought was going to come of your life. You have to have big dreams in this world to steer you in a direction. I know you can find what it is you’re searching for. You just have to leave this waiting place. Stop being apart of everyone else’s journey and go on your own to create a new chapter to tell. So here it is laid out before you, however you want to look at it- a second chance, a big break, or just an escape.”
She got up from her stool. He put the ticket down and looked up at his mother.
“So what will it be? Once again you are looking down the barrel of a gun, at Mr. All State, All Conference, All Everything called life and as a man you have to ask yourself- What direction are you going to head in?”
He watched her all the way until the door closed behind her. At that moment his mom exits a group of business men come hard charging into the bar ordering rounds of drinks, speaking loudly, ready to let loose. The perfect group to host in his office for an elaborate board meeting that will conclude with him being thoroughly drunk, but also lionized for his past glory.
The pretty blonde moves over to the seat next to him. “Hey hotshot,” she giggles to herself, “How about you and I have a drink together?”
The young man feigns a smile at her, fixing his eyes upon her beautiful smile he tries to concentrate his thoughts. He glances back at the counter trying to avoid the penetrating stare the envelope set upon him. Turning his back to the counter he looks out the window onto the airstrip. A plane came into view, bending around a turn coming upon the straightaway. The plane stopped briefly before beginning a slow roll. The plane sets in motion to accelerate at a quickening pace, roaring into the heavens and out of sight to an unknown destination. The young man smiles, staring out into the great blue abyss of the sky thinking of the endless possibilities.
The young woman touches his arm disrupting his daydream, “So what do you say? I’ll get us that drink?”
“I’d appreciate that, thank you,” he said turning to the pretty blonde, “but I’ll have to take a rain check. I have a plane to catch.”
He puts the ticket in his pocket and picks up the suitcase ready to take flight on his journey.
Nice short story...when do you have the rest for us?
ReplyDeleteAlso, I think I've heard that same left or right, no, I ran straight over the guy story from Al before...ask him about it if he hasn't told you already.
If he has, he'd be glad you used it.