The joint was rocking, but Jake’s mind was somewhere else. He checked his watch. Almost eleven thirty! The time wa nearly gone. Now, he had to rush, and on a lousy night, besides.

Carol Ann could not sit still, and she had been pushing him out to the dance floor all evening. He had gone through the motions, but the words of his father’s note kept nagging at him.

“Drink up, Carol Ann,” Jake said, nudging his shoulder against hers. “We’ve got to go.”

“Just relax, baby,” she objected, nudging back. “The band still has another set.”

He finished the rest of his beer. How could he blame her for not understanding? He didn’t understand it himself. What did he know about this other nonsense, anyway?

“I probably shouldn’t have gone out tonight at all,” he said, “but you know I always want to see you when I’m in town.”

“You’d better,” she returned, “if you know what’s good for you! Well, we’re here, now. You even picked me up on time.  I couldn’t believe it. I mean, you’re like a charter member of Procrastinator’s Anonymous.”

“I love that organization,” he joked. “Anyway, I would have picked you up earlier, but I had to make that police report about the stolen stuff from my apartment.”

“I know. That’s so scary. Why do you even live in the city? There’s so much theft and violence.”

“You can’t get away from that. It’s not just the city. It happens everywhere.”

He picked up her purse and set it in front of her.

“I can’t believe you’re worried about getting there on time,” she chided. “What are you going to do, turn into a pumpkin or something?”

“I’m already in Procrastinator’s Anonymous, remember? I can’t be in Cinderella, too. I’d never have time to see you. Now, can we go, please?”

“Okay, okay, OKAY!” she grumbled.

She swayed as she rose from the chair, and steadied herself with a hand on the table, looking wistfully at the stage as the band members straggled back to their places, donning guitars and preparing for the next song. The piano player chorded a brief rhythm.

“The least you could do is get a six pack to go.”

“That’s a good idea!” agreed Jake.

Jake got the beer and stuck the sack under his arm. With Carol Ann in front, they picked their way through the tables toward the exit. A fight had started a few tables away, and a bartender came over to break it up with the help of a sawed-off pool cue. Jake and Carol Ann maneuvered around the melee.

“More violence!” she said.

He opened the door for her, but stopped when he stuck his head outside.

“Damn!” exclaimed Jake. “It’s coming down harder than ever!”

The rain had picked up again while they were inside, and it descended with force, drumming on the cars and trucks, and splashing the puddles in the parking lot. The street lamp by the road spotlighted the drops as they passed from the darkness into the island of light. To Jake, it seemed like their motion was frozen for an instant, as if they paused in the bright orb before falling to the ground. He wished they would hang there, suspended in midair, and disappear. The clouds had brought rain for more than a week. The ground was saturated.

“We’ll have to make a run for it,” he said.

He took Carol Ann by the arm and pulled her into the rain. They sloshed through the water and mud to Jake’s pick-up. It took only a few seconds to scramble inside, but their clothes were already drenched and clinging. Carol Ann shivered. Her hair hung in wet strings.

Jake looked in his side mirror at the reflection of the tavern’s blinking neon sign. It looked like two signs: one on the building, and one reflected in a huge puddle in the lot. They flashed their red messages into the night: Riverside…Riverside…Riverside.

He headed the truck onto the highway. Carol Ann scooted across the bench seat and sat against the passenger window, probably pouting, he guessed.

“I’ve never seen it rain like this,” he said, attempting to ignore her distance, even though he knew that never worked.

No answer.

“Oh, come on. I’m sorry we had to leave, but I think it’s something important. My dad doesn’t ask many favors.”

“Oh, Jacob! What could it be that wouldn’t wait until morning?”

Jake knew that she only called him Jacob when she was being condescending.

“I don’t know. He just said to be there by midnight.”

“Well, your dad’s weird, anyway.”

She popped open two cans of beer and handed one to him. As he took it, their hands touched. She had returned halfway across the seat.

“Dad’s not really weird,” he offered in defense. “It’s just that nobody understands him.”

“He stays back there on his farm and never sees anybody. I’d call that kind of weird. People say he sits around meditating all the time.”

“He does that a lot. His religion is kind of Eastern.”

“Eastern? What like Buddhism?”

“Not exactly, but sort of.”

“Well, there you go. You know any other Buddhists here in Blue Valley? That’s totally weird!”

“No, but Jesus was Eastern, too.”

She drank her beer before answering.

“I don’t really think of him like that,” she said. “I mean, not like Buddhist or something!”

“Well, you should. I mean, he was only a freaking Jewish rabbi!”

“A-a-ahm-m-m! You’re going to get struck by a lightning bolt for saying things like that.”

“Bring it on! Might put me out of my misery!”

“Poor baby,” she comforted.

“Well, anyway, you can’t just sum up my father’s religion on a bumper sticker.”

“Yeh, so what’s your point with that? Are you knocking my religion, just because of that “WWJD” on the back of my car? What the hell do you believe in?”

“I don’t know.”

“See? You’re not exactly Mr. Commitment!”

“Now, you sound like my ex.”

“Which one?”

“My last one,” he retorted.

“Ouch!” she said softly, patting his leg.

It was true. Commitments had never been his strong point. Besides spoiled marriages, and a lack of much faith in anything, he was at his third newspaper job. The longest thing he could commit to writing was a daily column, and he was shaky at that.

“Better than MY ex, slapping me around,” Carol Ann continued.

“You don’t deserve that.”

They watched the wipers fight the rain on the windshield, and listened to the talk on the radio about flooding upstream and lakes straining at their dams. It was Jake who finally broke the silence.

“Talking about my dad, though. He’s not really a Buddhist. He just goes by the beat of a different drum.”

“What drum?”

“That’s from Thoreau.”

“Thor who?”

“Never mind.”

“Um-m-m,” she said into the bottom of her upturned beer can.

Jake turned left at the flashing caution light and drove across the dam. The reservoir was high, higher than he had ever seen it.

Carol Ann was too young to remember the problems his father had encountered with the local people. The family attempted to make friends with the others, but it was no good. Unconventional religious beliefs built tall fences in Blue Valley, too high to be tolerated, too thick to pierce. People smiled to their faces, but talked behind their backs. The gossip and unkind words grew, and his father kept more and more to himself.

The public censure was too much for Jake, like the time he lost his job at the bank. As the stories about his family spread, he knew the bank president wanted to fire him. At first, there were subtle pressures. Then, one day, a sizable deposit turned up missing. Everyone’s pockets were searched, and they pulled the money from his coat. It was a neat trick.

Jake fled from home when he was nineteen, and moved far enough away where he could not hear the cutting comments. The wounds were deep. He drank a lot. Being different was too great a burden for him. He conformed, shedding any outer indications of his upbringing, and burying everything else deep within. At one point, he even told people he was an atheist, and he was pretty convincing on the surface. Deep down, however, he couldn’t fool himself.

The twinkle of lights ahead became clearer as they neared. Jake turned the truck into the trailer court, and parked in front of Carol Ann’s. When he turned off the engine, the noise of the rain hitting the cab of the truck was loud. They listened, reluctant to leave the truck’s shelter.

“Come on. I’ll go with you to the door.”

They ran across the yard and up the steps to get under the awning of the small porch. There wasn’t much room with water streaming down on either side. Carol Ann circled her arms around his neck and drew against him. He held her awkwardly.

“Good night,” he said, uncertain how to leave without making her angry.

She responded by pulling down on his head and raising up to meet him. Her lips were parted, and they moved hungrily as he returned the kiss. Their breaths quickened, and her tongue sought his, flicking lightly at first, then more aggressively. She slipped her leg between his knees, pressing her thigh against him. After a moment, she leaned away to look in his eyes.

“Why don’t you come in for a while? You’re going to be late, anyway.”

She moved her mouth to his neck, trailing moist kisses toward his ear. He looked over her shoulder at his watch. Five till twelve. She was right. He would be late, but only by ten or fifteen minutes if he left right away. She tugged gently at his ear lobe with her teeth.

“You used to stay late all the time,” she whispered. “We could get out of these wet clothes.”

He didn’t answer, but she was relentless.

“Maybe you’re getting old.”

He stiffened involuntarily, trying to pass it off with a contemptuous chuckle.

“Old, huh?” he muttered. “I’ll show you old.”

Finally, his ego tore at the fragile walls of his better judgment, and he backed her through the door, kicking it shut behind him.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED