Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial #8)
Chapter 2, Part IV
Cindy Bradford
The Pizza Joint looked crowded. Small, dark, and smoky, the main room was quaintly furnished with small tables, each covered with a red and white checked tablecloth. No two coverings had the same kind of checks, or the same faded red color. Three old photographs of Townsend’s own sports heroes hung crooked on one wall, yellowed by smoke and age. A poster of an Italian countryside and a worn map of Italy were tacked with pushpins to another wall.
Squinting from the smoke, Patrick searched for a seat. “I guess I should have checked this place out before I brought you here.”
“Don’t be silly. This is the hot spot; the locals love it. Sure better than the Dairy Queen!”
He noticed a table for two in the corner and guided her toward it. “Okay, if you say so.”
“Check out that candle, pretty colorful, huh?” he said as they both sat down. Red and green melted wax oozed down the straw basket surrounding the old wine bottle. The sullen waiter rammed another red taper into the waxy opening, lighting it with not so much as a hello. Patrick looked at Sue incredulously.
She laughed, “Welcome to Townsend’s finest Italian restaurant.”
They talked non-stop, over pepperoni pizza and Cokes. Finishing off the last gooey piece, Patrick asked, “You ready for a sappy, sad movie? I noticed the only movie showing at the Majestic is ‘Love Story’.”
“I can’t wait.” She knew there was a B-rated western, at the drive-in theater, but nice girls didn’t go there on a first date.
Being Saturday night, she also knew what to expect at the theater. All the local junior high kids had spent the day there and even though the management did their best to clean it for the evening showing, it was futile. No matter how many popcorn kernels and empty cups they picked up, it didn’t keep someone’s feet from sticking to the floor. The theater had been built in the early fifties and there had been so many soft drinks spilled that nobody could ever scrape it up. The aisles weren’t too bad, because they used machines to clean them. The floor around and under the seats, however, was a different story. There must have been an inch of caked, sticky, gummy Graveyard on the floor underneath the seats. This orange, grape, Dr. Pepper, cherry coke mixture was a favorite drink among the seventh and eighth graders; hence, every Saturday, a new layer was added to the theater floors. That, along with the junior mints, malted milk balls, chocolate covered raisins and popcorn, that they threw as soon as the lights were dimmed, made a royal mess–about twenty years of mess. Sue had been sticking to that floor for years, as a young kid and then as a teenager. She was anxious to hear what funny remarks Patrick would say, and just as she predicted she saw him grimace and look down at his feet.
“What’s on the floor?” he asked when he stood up to leave. He had noticed it some, when he came in, but once his feet were in one place so long, they squeaked when he tried to move them. “Ugh!”
Sue laughed and tried explaining until she realized it was just something one had to have experienced on a Saturday when young and silly in a dark little town theater where the movies weren’t good, but the action was. She stopped mid sentence.
“Oh yes, I knew I wasn’t in the real world,” he laughed.
They drove back to the dorm, casually discussing the movie, as Sue wiped her eyes.
“Sorry, but that was so sad.”
Patrick sighed, “I warned you,” rubbing his eyes mockingly. When he parked out front of the dorm, he cut the engine and following a long pause said, “I had a great time, Sue.”
“Me, too,” not wanting the night to end.
“Hey, you see that guy over there in the white T-shirt?” Patrick asked pointing to a bulky guy with his cotton sleeves rolled up to the top of his arm, sitting on one of the dorm steps. Muscles bulged from his huge arms. Then before Sue could answer, he added, “That’s Hank, my gargantuan roommate. He calls himself Hank the Hunk from Henderson.”
Sue snickered. “Looks more like a simple slob from somewhere small.”
“You’re right on target. Dumb,” Patrick said, laughing.
“Is he really from Henderson?”
“That’s what he says, why?”
“Well, it’s only about twenty miles away. I was just wondering why he lives in the dorm.”
“To torment me. Actually, all the football players are required to live here. He loves it. Runs around in his underwear, burping, farting and flexing his muscles.” He stopped quickly, then stammered, “I’m sorry, Sue, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say in front of you.”
Blushing slightly, she said, “That’s okay, Patrick. You’re the one who has to sleep in the same room with him.”
“Well, I’m used to having a roommate. When you have three brothers, that’s a given.”
His face turned more serious. “Can we go somewhere next week? I promise to put some gasoline in your car.”
“That’s not necessary, Patrick, but I’d love to go out again.”
“Okay, so that’s a deal!” and then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“See you in English, Monday, and be on time,” she reminded him, patting his arm as she moved over to drive.
As he was jogging toward the front door, Sue could hear Hank yelling, “Hey man, you got a chauffeur?”
≈≈≈
Summer finally gave way to fall, ending the scorching temperatures and bringing rain. The air began to smell of damp pinecones and homecoming mums, a strange mixture but one everyone who lived in Townsend was used to breathing and even savoring. Autumn was always exciting here. Football games were the dominant theme that gave the town its focus. Parades before and dances afterwards capped off the months of October and November. In between, the county fair and Halloween carnival brought the chance for old and young alike to eat all the candied apples and cotton candy they could hold. It also provided opportunities for teenage boys to impress their girlfriends with giant stuffed animals, won by tossing little round plastic circles over cases of coke bottles.
And Patrick was no exception. Handing Sue an over-stuffed black and white bear, he beamed. A smile sprang to her lips. “You are my knight in shining armor.”
He took her hand in his. “Let’s ride the Ferris Wheel so I can steal a kiss.”
She leaned into him and he could smell her perfume.
“What are you thinking, Patrick?”
It caught him off guard for a minute and he fumbled for an answer. After a long pause, he answered, “I’m glad I came to Cherokee. I never thought I’d say that, but it’s beginning to feel…well, not like home, but comfortable.” Catching himself, he stopped as if he were sorry he had offered a part of himself.
Sometimes, Patrick’s moods were a complete mystery to Sue. It was as if he wanted to share his inner self, but there was always a part of him he wouldn’t let go. Squeezing his hand, Sue broke the stillness. “I’m glad you came to Cherokee, Patrick.”
Since their second date, Patrick and Sue had been together almost every night. At first, Sue had hesitated about Patrick staying at her house so much, especially after midnight. “What would the neighbors think?” she had asked him, but relented almost as soon as she had said it. Still, if they went out for awhile and came back, he always parked in the garage, so as not to arouse any suspicions from the Taylors on one side and the Blackwoods on the other.
“I don’t get it,” he had said, the first time she had told him where to park.
“Oh, Patrick, remember this is not Boston. Everyone watches out for each other in a little town like this plus, the neighbors feel responsible for me living here alone.”
“Yeah, they watch out all right, right out their windows. Look! They’re probably looking right now.” He pushed the drape back from the den window and pointed across the street. Tugging at the back of his pants as if he might moon them, he grinned devilishly at Sue.
“You’re terrible. I think a young couple lives there, anyway. Old Mrs. Waters died not too long ago, and the For Sale sign is gone. I saw a young woman pushing a baby stroller there the other day.”
“But of course you weren’t snooping, just watching out for your new neighbor.” He fell over the back of the patterned blue couch, onto the cushion next to Sue, and slapped a big wet kiss on her cheek.
She pulled out her high school yearbook. “You want to see some big hair?” showing him the section of senior photos. “Why we felt the need to get our hair fixed at the beauty shop and wear those feather boas is a mystery to me,” Sue giggled.
“This doesn’t even look like you. Let me see the basketball team,” he said, beginning to flip the pages, but stopping to look at a picture of Sue, holding two red and white pompoms high in the air. Finding the team picture, he said, surprised, “Look at those wimpy guys. They’re little.”
“Hey, I used to date that guy. He’s not so little.”
“What part are you talking about?” Patrick teased.
Blushing, Sue slapped him on the arm. “You know I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Do I ever! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” He leaned over to kiss her.
Sue’s stomach churned slightly. She knew Patrick had been exasperated several nights when she had stopped him from going too far and told him she wanted to wait. Although he appeared to accept her decision it was not without some consternation.
Sue shifted her position to be nearer and kissed him back. He drew her even closer and she could feel the warmth of his body and the smell of his aftershave. She knew that resisting him was going to get more difficult.