Sunday afternoon, after dinner, Bill and Karen rode around Cole County.
Karen, wrapped in a red overcoat matching the color of her hair, snuggled close to Bill.
"I love you so much," Karen said.
"I love you, too," Bill replied.
"Remember what we were discussing the other day?"
"You mean about running away this summer?"
"Yes--I want to leave sooner!"
Bill turned onto the road by the lake, drove into the woods, and parked. He reached under the seat, retrieved a pack of cigarettes, drew out two, handed one to Karen, and lit them both.
"Do you still want to elope?" Karen asked, very concerned about the whole situation.
"Baby," Bill replied, exhaling smoke, "we're both just juniors in high school!"
"I don't care!" Karen cried. "I don't think I can take living with my parents any more!"
"You think you got problems with your parents, you ought to try living at my house for a week!"
"I wish I could!" Karen replied, not letting on that she'd be equally excited to be with Bill's brother, Danny.
"Shit!" Bill said. "What's the matter with us? Do you really love me?"
"Yes," Karen said, caressing Bill's hair. "I've got a grandmother in New Orleans. We could live with her, and our parents can't say a damn thing!"
"You don't know how much I want to do this, baby," Bill said, as he hung his head down. "It's just the red tape involved! We'd have to get the money--who'd put us through school? I'm not all that smart, you know!"
"Can't we cross those bridges when we come to them?" Karen asked.
"I don't know," Bill said. Before he could say any more, Karen began running her hands through his hair, they threw their cigarettes out of the window, and tightly embraced.
Josiphene Michael, at four thirty that afternoon, awoke from a deep nap. She dreamed that she and Nicholas were being married. That wasn't the first time she had dreamed it.
She walked into the kitchen, and put on coffee. On the refigerator door was placed a note, reading, "Josiphene, because you are in this area of the kitchen most often, I placed this note here. I have gone out to the farm. Will be back about six. Eli."
Realizing Eli's suggestion of where she spent most of her time, Josiphene burned with anger.
After two cups of coffee, Josiphene made her face, brushed her hair, and put on a nice dress. She went to the telephone, and dialed.
"Nicholas," she said, "Did I wake you?"
"No, my darling," Nicholas, sitting back in his recliner, replied.
"I just wanted to see what time you'd be here tonight."
"I guess, about seven, as usual. Is that okay?"
"Well," Josiphene said, "I suppose so. Nicholas, I have something vry important I want to discuss with you tonight. It's a subject we've avoided for a long time."
"I'm looking forward to it."
Most of the Lebanese citizenry of Cole attended the various Christian churches spread throughout town. George and Helen Knapp, on the way to an evening prayer service at Trinity Episcopal Church, were in one of their usual discussions about the status of Josiphene Michael.
"I just don't think it's right," Helen said. "I wouldn't say it around anyone but you, but Josiphene acts like a slut! Of course, everyone knows about them--and what do you think poor Eli thinks about it?"
"No telling," George said. "I don't know why Josiphene and Eli don't get a divorce. It would be the only decent thing to do!"
"We don't know Nicholas Abraham that well," Helen said, "and sometimes I wonder how well Josiphene knows him!"
"How long will they be able to go on this way?" George mumbled, as they approached the church.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
Wiiners and Losers, book 3, chapter 2
Meanwhile, Abel Moses, another storekeeper of Cole, was leading quite a different life.
Abel lived in the old house he was brought up in, now badly in need of repair. However, he could not afford repair. He could hardly afford anything.
Abel managed a small store behind his house (the front of the store was on the side street of the house), and had seen better times. Most of his customers were the old people of the faded neighborhood, and black children who ran errands for their parents. Every now and then he would see customers his late parents had in earlier days, due to the store being open from seven in the morning until six in the evening (sometimes, when Abel was drunk).
Every afternoon, Abel and his best friend, Sam Buggs (nicknamed "Captain Sam") would drive to the City Cafe and have coffee. While Abel and Sam were gone, Abel left the store in the hands of Lillian Bates, a young black lady who was Abel's maid, cook, and occasional mistress.
Abel walked through the back yard, opened the door, and entered the store. He turned on the television, and walked to a table behind the counter. Under the table was a pint of whiskey, half full. Abel opened the bottle, took a large gulp, tightly recapped the bottle, and put it back in its place.
A key was heard in the front door. Through the dirty window, Abel could see Captain Sam, who opened the door, propped an empty Coca-Cola case to hold it open, and walked it.
"Good morning, Abel," the white haired, stooped old man said.
"Howdy, howdy!" Abel shouted. "C'mon in!"
Even though he was poor and struggling, Abel had a senser of humor and was, even at his drunkest moments, very amusing to the townspeople.
"I'm waiting for the milk truck any minute," Abel said.
"It's Sunday, Abel. Ain't no milk truck coming in today!"
"You're crazy," Abel replied. "It couldn't be Sunday. Lillian didn't stop by last night!"
"You're so drunk you don't even know what day it is!" Sam said.
Abel sat on one of the orange crates he used for a chair, and pondered.
"I'll be switched!" Abel said. "That damn nigger stood me up! Where the hell was she?"
Sam arose, and went to the table behind the counter. He got the bottle of whiskey, and took it to Abel.
"Medicine," said Sam, "--take it!"
Throughout the day, what few customers Abel had were either black children running errands for their parents, or teenagers of all backgrounds who bought cigarettes there when no other store would sell them to the under aged. When they laughed at Abel, he laughed with them.
"Hey, Abel," called out Sam Baker from his car, "you got any beer for sale?"
"No," replied Abel. "Haven't sold beer here in years. Try somewhere else!"
"Shit!" replied Sam, "You know I can't get any beer anywhere else on a Sunday!"
"Sorry," Abel said, as he stumbled back into the store.
"Speaking of liquor," Captain Sam said, "It's gettin' kinda dry in here. I might have some of the hard stuff at home."
"Good!" Abel replied. "Go get it!"
While Captain Sam was gone, Abel daydreamed about some of his more prosperous relatives. Maybe, he thought, had his parents set up shop in a better part of town, he'd be better off. Then, again, he had several cousins who had left Cole and made better lives for themselves in other towns and cities. Abel had thought about doing that, but, somehow, alcohol always got in the way.
Abel had many relatives, none of them close.
There was Josiphene Knapp Michael who, by day, was the hardworking manager of Knapp Food Store. Her husband, Eli, managed a small farm. Their marriage, after ten years, was all but finished.
Evenings, Josiphene changed from her weary dress into something more appealing, let down her long black hair, and stepped out with Nicholas Abraham, a forty year old, handsome "man about town." They didn't seem to carethat everybody knew they were having a fling, and Eli stayed too drunk to care.
Josiphene's brother, George, was an insurance agent and very active in numerous civic and social circles in Cole. His lovely but shy wife, Helen, was also in the limelight more often than she sometimes cared to be. She knew, at least for the sake of George's popularity, that she'd have to keep up the pace, however.
There were also Thomas Moses and his big bottomed wife, Mary Kay, who owned and operated the Cole branch of Sunflower Food Store.
Thomas and Mary Kay and their three children, William, Martha, and Steve, seemed "uppity" to the less conservative children of Ellis Kazan whose antics, particularly Bill's, made the Moses children envious. Mary Kay kept her children on the "straight and narrow," and folks sometimes wondered when or if they'd rebel.
Abel lived in the old house he was brought up in, now badly in need of repair. However, he could not afford repair. He could hardly afford anything.
Abel managed a small store behind his house (the front of the store was on the side street of the house), and had seen better times. Most of his customers were the old people of the faded neighborhood, and black children who ran errands for their parents. Every now and then he would see customers his late parents had in earlier days, due to the store being open from seven in the morning until six in the evening (sometimes, when Abel was drunk).
Every afternoon, Abel and his best friend, Sam Buggs (nicknamed "Captain Sam") would drive to the City Cafe and have coffee. While Abel and Sam were gone, Abel left the store in the hands of Lillian Bates, a young black lady who was Abel's maid, cook, and occasional mistress.
Abel walked through the back yard, opened the door, and entered the store. He turned on the television, and walked to a table behind the counter. Under the table was a pint of whiskey, half full. Abel opened the bottle, took a large gulp, tightly recapped the bottle, and put it back in its place.
A key was heard in the front door. Through the dirty window, Abel could see Captain Sam, who opened the door, propped an empty Coca-Cola case to hold it open, and walked it.
"Good morning, Abel," the white haired, stooped old man said.
"Howdy, howdy!" Abel shouted. "C'mon in!"
Even though he was poor and struggling, Abel had a senser of humor and was, even at his drunkest moments, very amusing to the townspeople.
"I'm waiting for the milk truck any minute," Abel said.
"It's Sunday, Abel. Ain't no milk truck coming in today!"
"You're crazy," Abel replied. "It couldn't be Sunday. Lillian didn't stop by last night!"
"You're so drunk you don't even know what day it is!" Sam said.
Abel sat on one of the orange crates he used for a chair, and pondered.
"I'll be switched!" Abel said. "That damn nigger stood me up! Where the hell was she?"
Sam arose, and went to the table behind the counter. He got the bottle of whiskey, and took it to Abel.
"Medicine," said Sam, "--take it!"
Throughout the day, what few customers Abel had were either black children running errands for their parents, or teenagers of all backgrounds who bought cigarettes there when no other store would sell them to the under aged. When they laughed at Abel, he laughed with them.
"Hey, Abel," called out Sam Baker from his car, "you got any beer for sale?"
"No," replied Abel. "Haven't sold beer here in years. Try somewhere else!"
"Shit!" replied Sam, "You know I can't get any beer anywhere else on a Sunday!"
"Sorry," Abel said, as he stumbled back into the store.
"Speaking of liquor," Captain Sam said, "It's gettin' kinda dry in here. I might have some of the hard stuff at home."
"Good!" Abel replied. "Go get it!"
While Captain Sam was gone, Abel daydreamed about some of his more prosperous relatives. Maybe, he thought, had his parents set up shop in a better part of town, he'd be better off. Then, again, he had several cousins who had left Cole and made better lives for themselves in other towns and cities. Abel had thought about doing that, but, somehow, alcohol always got in the way.
Abel had many relatives, none of them close.
There was Josiphene Knapp Michael who, by day, was the hardworking manager of Knapp Food Store. Her husband, Eli, managed a small farm. Their marriage, after ten years, was all but finished.
Evenings, Josiphene changed from her weary dress into something more appealing, let down her long black hair, and stepped out with Nicholas Abraham, a forty year old, handsome "man about town." They didn't seem to carethat everybody knew they were having a fling, and Eli stayed too drunk to care.
Josiphene's brother, George, was an insurance agent and very active in numerous civic and social circles in Cole. His lovely but shy wife, Helen, was also in the limelight more often than she sometimes cared to be. She knew, at least for the sake of George's popularity, that she'd have to keep up the pace, however.
There were also Thomas Moses and his big bottomed wife, Mary Kay, who owned and operated the Cole branch of Sunflower Food Store.
Thomas and Mary Kay and their three children, William, Martha, and Steve, seemed "uppity" to the less conservative children of Ellis Kazan whose antics, particularly Bill's, made the Moses children envious. Mary Kay kept her children on the "straight and narrow," and folks sometimes wondered when or if they'd rebel.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)