The Drunken Spelunker's Guide to Plato (6 page)

The man called Jake was a stranger to me. He gave me a long, appraising look. “Ten dollars,” he said, slowly getting up. I decided right then that I didn't like Jake too much.

By the time it was all over, Danny and I had lost forty dollars (almost entirely my fault) and kissed for a while up near the bar (almost entirely his).

Two doors down from the Hammer and Sickle on the corner of Thornapple Street and Magnolia was another yellow-painted house that was Blossom's restaurant. In the mornings,
it opened at six-thirty or seven o'clock and was generally full of hardworking people already on their way to work or hard-living people finally on their way to bed. Either way, Blossom gave you what you needed—biscuits and gravy, eggs, country ham, grits, strong coffee. After Danny and I had lost beyond all redemption—his pool-playing reputation in shambles and mine sadly confirmed—we went over to Blossom's to eat. Vera yawned and said she was going home to bed, and Jake disappeared without saying goodbye.

Blossom was a large woman with a heart to match. She cultivated a loving attitude toward all of humanity and had six almost-grown children to show for it. They all worked in the restaurant, where the food was good and the use of butter plentiful.

Blossom had known Danny since he was a little boy. She, too, had grown up in Millboro and had come to Waterville years ago looking—like Danny was looking—for a wider horizon than tiny Millboro had to offer. She came over to our table with the pot of coffee.

“Baby,” she said to Danny, “you look beat.” In the daylight, his eyes were lined with translucent blue shadows.

“No, ma'am,” Danny grinned at her. “Up all night and ain't half beat yet.”

“Does your mama know how wild you are?”

“Not unless you go and tell her.”

“He was such a
sweet
child,” she said to me. “Singing in the choir at church like a little baby angel.” She shook her head in mock despair. “Oh, he's turned out so
bad
!” And she smiled at him.

“What I need,” said Danny, “is ham and biscuits.”

“What you need,” said Blossom, “is to be taken care of.”

“Same thing,” he said.

“That's true,” she said, and went off to get our breakfast.

We ate for a long time and then went home together to my house.

Later in the afternoon, he woke up and came out to the front porch, where I was sitting with coffee and a hangover, smoking cigarettes and wondering if I should wake him up before I left for work. He seemed surprised to see me.

“Do you want some coffee?” I asked.

“No, that's okay. I'll get some at work.”

“There's some frozen waffles we could toast for breakfast.”

He shook his head, not quite meeting my eye. “I don't want to put you to any trouble,” he said.

“It's no trouble.”

“You're sweet”—looking at the floorboards of the porch—“but I've got to go now.”

“Right away?”

He didn't answer but kissed me instead, too quickly, too hard, just off-center on my mouth. Then he was gone.

I sat on the porch letting the coffee get cold and tried to hold on to the feeling of his lips against mine.

“Good party,” Tom said when I went into the bookstore Monday morning.

“Have you recovered?” I asked.

“Still feel like hell, but, you know, in a good way,” he laughed. “How about you?”

“I met somebody kind of nice—a guy named Danny.”

“I know Danny—he's a good guy,” Tom said. “I've had some fun times with Danny. Some real fun times. Of course, after a while . . .”

“What? After a while, what?”

Tom grinned. “Ah, well. I don't want to speak ill of the dead.”

“He's not dead!”

“Hmm. As much as he was drinking, he should be.”

“What are you saying to me?”

“Danny's a good guy,” Tom repeated. “He's a lot of fun—has friends everywhere. A lot of people like him. A lot of women like him.”

“Good Lord, Tom! I'm not talking about marrying the boy. I just think he's nice, is all. We had a good time together.”

“Just be careful, Josie.”

I snorted.

“Well, I've never been one to put a damper on adventure—as long as you're sure you're going in with your eyes open.” “All I said was that I think he's
nice!
”

“He
is
nice. That's true.” Tom paused. “But be careful you don't start expecting too much.”

“Don't worry. I never expect anything,” I lied.

The next day, I was at the gas station buying cigarettes, a newspaper, and a Big Red soda when I saw him. Through the rippled plate-glass window between the signs for cheap oil and day-old hot dogs, I saw the back of his head, rumpled sandy hair, and a rumpled farmer-boy shirt. I saw the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.

“Regulars?” the boy at the cash register said to me.

I just nodded because it's so hard to talk when you can't
breathe. From outside, I heard Danny's laugh.

“Three dollars even,” the boy said.

I put my money on the counter and noticed I was sweating.

“Do you have a bathroom I could use?” I whispered, and he nodded toward a door in the wall by the cooler.

Inside the piss-and-industrial-soap-scented bathroom, I leaned my forehead against the cool door and listened to Danny's faint voice as he paid for his gas and a tamale.

“You're a brave man,” the cash-register boy said to him, and I listened to Danny laugh again and say words I couldn't make out. I didn't come out of the bathroom until I was sure he was gone.

“Everything okay?” the boy said to me.

I wanted to say,
No, no, everything is not okay. Because I can't stop thinking about that boy. He's been inside my head for two whole days now, and visions of him won't let me alone. And my hands are shaky and my heart is beating ninety miles an hour just because I heard his goddamn voice. No, everything is definitely not okay.

“Everything's fine,” I said.

The key to the front door of the Cave was kept in a little hidden spot on the ledge above the door. This wasn't the
very
most secure place to hide something, but the patrons were not exactly masters of detection, and it worked well enough. I liked being able to let myself in early even when I wasn't working. I waited for Rafi to show up, sitting at the bar in just the light from the TV screen, everything all quiet around me, thinking and listening to the muted sounds from the street above.

Three days after the ball, Rafi was not surprised to find me already there.

“Hiding out?” he asked.

“It's way too quiet at my house.”

“Come help me with the pool tables.”

I trailed after him to the back room.

“I hate waiting,” I said. “It seems like I've spent my whole life waiting.”

“Your whole life hasn't been so long.”

“It seems long,” I said ruefully, “because of all the waiting.”

“You could call him.” Rafi said this too casually and didn't look at me because he was paying extraordinarily close attention to folding up the pool-table cover.

“You know I can't do that,” I said.

“Why not?”

I sighed. “Too chicken, I guess,” I said finally.

“What are you afraid of?”

I got down the box of chalk and put three little cubes on the edge of each table.

“I'm afraid of finding out that I was just another girl. I'm afraid he'll answer the phone and not be able to place me.”

“He'll be able to place you.”

“Or that I'll hear somebody else's voice in the background—some other girl.”

“It could be his sister.”

“Does he have a sister?”

“Not that I know of. I think he has some girl cousins, though.”

“I think the best thing is probably for me just to put him out of my mind. Just move on, you know? Let's you and me fall in love, Rafi.”

Rafi snorted. “I know too much about you mountain girls,” he said. “I've heard you're all wild—go off with strangers you meet in bars.”

“I'm insulted. We could get married in a lovely ceremony in
the bus station where we met.”

“And name the babies Greyhound and Trailways?”

“We'd call them ‘Grey' and ‘Trey' for short. They're twins.”

“A boy and a girl who looks like you.”

“Oh, Rafi. I hate waiting.”

“Don't worry. He'll call. I'd call if I were him.”

“I think I need a beer,” I said.

“I think you do. Come on—you're the first customer of the day.”