Little Did I Know: A Novel (12 page)

Ellington turned into Gershwin’s “Embraceable You,” and then, without a change of mood, Porter’s “Love for Sale.” Kellie played the melodies and Secunda jammed a loose yet perfect set of harmony and counterpoint. If you weren’t in the room you wouldn’t believe this was all happening. I held Veronica close and realized I had completely forgotten that the note from Lizzy Barrows remained unopened in my back pocket.

We left the theater and walked the hundred yards to the ocean. Large boulders were visible with each crashing wave, phosphorescent and glowing intermittently in the night. In the distance, the sea was so calm you could understand the old belief that the world was flat.

It was past two and an orange moon sat within reach just above the water. We had all been quiet for some time when Tommy suggested a late drink. We reclaimed our cab fleet and headed to the only bar open after hours. Within minutes we pulled up to the Moondog and I wondered if the magic of the evening would end inside this watering hole.

Veronica and I lingered as the group went in. She held me at arm’s length and said, “I’m sorry about earlier tonight, and yesterday, and tomorrow. You aren’t to blame for my being so flighty. I realize I’m acting like a tease and that’s not right. I like you, so much really—in fact from the moment you walked in to the office I’ve thought about you constantly. And then last night we had so much fun, and again tonight.

“I see what goes on in your life. You make things go, people vie for your attention, you make them believe that anything is possible. I don’t know anyone like you. Your friends adore you, and you can’t fake that. Secunda would take a bullet for you. But even though I’ve known you for all of five minutes, I’ve made up all these bad roads we’ll take if we get together.

“I’ve waited for what seems like forever to get out of Plymouth and start a new life. What’s in it for us to fall for one another? A few weeks of summer fun and then a sad September goodbye? I want my new life to start with a clean slate with nothing holding me back. That makes me afraid of you. You’ll break my heart and I’ll pine for you when you do. I can’t do that to myself. I have simply been through too much. My life is not here. It is down a new road and not with a boy who is just passing through.”

I looked at her intently and thought how my parents got married two days after they met. A few days ago I had never heard of Veronica Chapman. Tonight I simply wanted to hold her hand and know her better, and she was closing the door on feelings that would linger long after she had gone.
Give it a breath, give it a chance
, I thought.
Don’t say goodbye to something before you’ve finished saying hello.

I ceased my inner monologue and spoke quietly to her. “You know, Veronica, when I was in school some of my friends and I would get together at the start of each semester to look at the incoming directory of freshman girls. We called it the ‘pig book’ because it had pictures of the frosh girls and their hometowns and such, and we would discuss who was a ‘pig’ and who was worth calling. Then we’d set out to get dates with anyone who well . . . measured up. We all thought it was pretty funny and clever on our part.

“But now after some of the life lessons you’ve unexpectedly and regrettably taught me, I realize that the pig in that whole equation was me. I’ve grown up as such a narcissist, and why? What have I done to merit that sort of self-indulgence? I said to my dad the other night that I want to learn to do the right thing in my life, but here I am a few days into being a grown-up and I feel like I’m on the verge of becoming an asshole and chasing you when you clearly don’t want to be caught.”

“I like that you called your dad for advice,” she said quietly. “Being caught by you would be a blessing for any girl.”

“Just two nights ago you told me that our lives were there for the taking and anything else would be a disappointment. Aren’t you guilty of just that?”

“I’m guilty of a great deal more,” she said sadly.

The night felt very still. I needed to take a deep breath, but there seemed to be no air in which to do so. “You know it’s not about doing something, it’s about doing the
right
something. I want to read Lizzy Barrows’s letter to you.”

I retrieved Lizzy’s missive from my back pocket. From inside the bar we could hear Linda Ronstadt on the jukebox singing “When Will I Be Loved?” The breeze rustled the trees gently, and laughter from the bar found its way outside. The neon bar light blinked on and off, lighting Veronica’s face intermittently in blue.

I opened the expensive, scented envelope. It smelled like Lizzy Barrows’s silk robe, but I thought it best not to mention that. Inside was letterhead that read T
HE
B
ARROWS
F
OUNDATION
, D
EDICATED TO THE
A
RTS AND
H
UMANITIES OF
P
LYMOUTH
, M
ASSACHUSETTS
, E
STABLISHED 1947
. Neatly typed below that was the following:

Dear Mr. August:

The Barrows Foundation regrets to inform you that we have ordered a stop on the check issued to you on Saturday, May 14, 1976, in the amount of $50,000.

This action in no way should be construed as unwillingness on the Foundation’s part to participate in your renting and operating the Priscilla Beach Theatre this summer. It is simply that the Board of Trustees has some additional concerns as to your funding, experience, and references. If you would be kind enough to attend a meeting with the trustees at 5:00 p.m. tomorrow, May 15, at my home, it is my sincere hope that we may resolve these issues.

Please call to confirm your attendance.

               Thank you.

               Mrs. Anderson Barrows, President

               The Barrows Foundation

Attached to the letter was a small note card with the initials EJB embossed on top. In the cursive hand of the doctor’s wife it read:
“Sam, don’t fret about this. It will all work out. Come tomorrow and we will fix things. Then we can truly go and celebrate together. XOXOXO, Lizzy.”

“This is fucked up,” I said. I returned the letter to its envelope and placed it in my jeans pocket. I gave the handwritten note to Veronica and asked her to keep it in a safe place, just in case.

“In case of what?” she asked.

“Just in case we need to find that fragrance. Bitch in Heat.”

“I wish I could let you kiss me,” she lamented.

“Well, there’s something we agree upon.”

She took my hand and said, “Let’s go meet our friends.”

I followed her into the Moondog.

T
he place was a cloud of smoke. The lighting was terrific if you had leprosy, a harelip, or your picture on the post office wall. There were no windows, so you could smell the sweat, alcohol, and heavy perfume. The bar had originally worn a Formica top with trimmed oxide chrome. There was a chalkboard menu on the wall listing the day’s specials and a jukebox opposite the bar where Jagger was singing about his lack of satisfaction. The kitchen was tucked away on the left, the size of a small elevator cab. The cook was black and large and looked like he could probably double as the bouncer. There was a pool table on the right, which cost only a quarter to play. Quarters were lined up tableside indicating there were dibs on the next game.

One came to the Moondog for the diversity. There was a group of young women who could have been friends of Kellie or Maggie, and a bunch of muscular yet overweight fellas in their midforties. Several older women sat by the bar using their looks to persuade several buff guys into plying them with drinks. Someone was getting laid before morning.

We pulled two tables together and waited for a round of drinks that Tommy said were his treat. Jagger had stopped screeching and Sinatra was singing “Witchcraft.” No one danced, but there was some toe tapping and some fingers snapped. I figured we could all have this last drink then call it a night. If I were a betting man I would have bet that no one would be sleeping alone when it was time for lights-out, except me and Veronica.

The door opened and a man, late twenties, tall and fit, walked in. On his arm was a striking woman with dark hair, a short skirt, and fuck-me pumps. She draped him like a mink stole, for she was indeed expensive and the real deal. They had clearly been drinking. It took all of a nanosecond to realize the woman was Lizzy Barrows.

Our table went silent. I knew her, as did Tommy, Kellie and Maggie knew of her and James and Secunda caught on quickly. Veronica not only knew who she was but was well acquainted with her history and effect on this small town.

Tommy leaned in and said, “Veronica, leave it alone. No need to start something.” Secunda whispered that I might just want to say hello to Lizzie, “You know, for professional reasons.”

I put my arm around Veronica. “What do you want to do?”

Lizzy and her date had caught sight of our group and were simply staring us all down, their eyes filled with unexplained contempt. John Sebastian sang “Daydream” on the juke. The irony was as heavy as the smoke that filled the room.

A few seconds passed yet it seemed like a very long time. I didn’t breathe. Veronica’s rage flashed across her face.

Mrs. Barrows’s date shouted, “Veronica Chapman! Hey, how’s your brother Eddie. Is he getting any sun these days? What’s he up to? Oh, that’s right, he’s studying license-plate making at the community college.” Then he laughed. John Sebastian had finished his song and no new tune had started up. The place began to get quiet.

Tommy stood up and said, “Gary, pipe down. This ain’t happening tonight.”

“Just being friendly, that’s all!” Gary responded. His words were a bit slurred.

“Focus on your date, buddy, and leave us be.”

“You saying that as a cop, or are you looking to stop me from asking a personal question of Veronica Chapman?”

“Shut up, Gary, or I’ll lay you out because you deserve it for being an asshole, and then I’ll cuff you because I can.”

Lizzy Barrows pushed Gary away a few steps and turned him toward the bar. Tommy sat back down and the crowd began to collectively breathe again. But then she skewered me with her eyes and shouted, “So, Sam August, come down from Boston to pick up some local girls. Slumming are you? You seem to be good at it!” Then she turned back to the bar as if I wasn’t in the room.

Veronica stood up slowly. Secunda and I did as well. She walked over to Lizzy Barrows with a shot of Jack Daniels in her hand and stood directly behind her, so close that Barrows must have felt Veronica breathing on the back of her neck. After an eternity, Lizzy turned around. When she did, Veronica slapped her hard across her cheek. Then she threw the whiskey in her face and started back to our table.

Gary reached out harshly to grab Veronica and I stepped in his way. He hit me with a right-hand that just missed my eye and glanced off my ear.

“Son of a bitch,” I exclaimed in pain.

Secunda stepped in the guy’s face and shouted, “Enough!” Gary tried to hit Secunda with a right. Secunda easily ducked the punch and responded with two quick left jabs that landed perfectly, as did the right cross that followed. Gary crumpled to the floor as if shot.

Secunda picked up Gary’s drink, downed it, and calmly said, “Good night, Mrs. Barrows. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

He threw a C-note on the bar. “Thanks for the cocktails.” Then he turned to all of us and said, “Let’s go, guys.”

W
e all found our way outside quickly. The neon bar sign blinked blue and washed us in an eerie, distorted light. We lingered outside, looking for comfort from one another. No one spoke for a while; I think we were all trying to take in everything that had just happened.

Then JB started to laugh quietly and within an instant we all started cackling. “Well, that certainly killed the buzz,” she said, gasping for air. She went on to make fun of my feeble efforts to protect my companion while Veronica defended my lame gallantry.

Fatigue quickly settled in after a long night and Secunda suggested that he would put everyone up at the motel. Tommy said he had a shift in the morning but would “tuck JB in” before he headed home. Maggie and Kellie had their hands intertwined with their dates, and Veronica held me tightly around the waist as though she was never going to see me again.
Wow
, I thought,
what a night. If they continue like this, I’ll be old before I finish my youth.

We piled into another fleet of waiting Garden cabs and headed back home to the motel. Veronica did spend the night with me. We said little and washed up. She put on a T-shirt of mine and I wore boxers to bed. I didn’t sleep, but rather stared at the ceiling wondering what damage had been done to the young woman lying next to me and why it caused her to shut her heart on something with the potential for good. Wasn’t fleeting joy better than none at all? As the sun rose I had yet to find an answer.

I stirred early. Veronica was in deep sleep. I grabbed the phone and sat on the deck just outside my room. I took out a list of questions I had compiled since my first meeting with Barrows on Saturday. Then I called the front desk and asked to be connected to a number in Manhattan.