CHAPTER 17: BOOT SCOOTIN' THE ROOSTER ROCKSTEP AT THE WHY?

Burke's eyes stung in the blinding floresant lights of Dela's shower. He was disappointed to discover that they cost fifty cents to run. The best he could do was freshen up with pump your own soap at the sink. Just as well. The bit of shower that he could see did not have a black fuzzy bath mat in the stall. It was pubic hair. He looked in the mirror. He still had mud on his forehead from his tumble and needed a shave. There sitting on the shelf near him was an abandoned disposable razor. Burke was in a quandary. Did he try and overcome the homeless image that he was rapidly acquiring, or turn himself around. He picked up the razor and examined it. It was used all right, but was not in bad shape.

He looked at his face.

Looked at the razor.

Looked at his face.

Looked at the razor.

Then began pumping soap and lathering up. He was corporate after all. No cards needed. He was corporate. The blades pinched and grabbed and offered inadequacy to the stubble, but Burke was determined. He was corporate. After a while he examined his face again. Much better. Now he merely looked terrible instead of awful.

Well, what to do next. Dela's compound was a gas station, convenience store. Nearby was a bar. Burke looked at the sign.

The Blowout Boogie Bar

Oh no. What next. Burke was experiencing a weird feeling: It was called not knowing what to do next. He always seemed to know what to do next, but lately was running thin on ideas. There wasn't much choice but to hang out at the truck stop or check out The Blowout to see what was happening there.

As he got closer he heard a country-western kind of swing song. Light and lively. It sounded inviting. Instinctively reaching into his pocket, to his surprise found a wad of money. He counted it. Sixteen dollars. Probably remnants of the rendezvous between a twenty and a Rob-Roy. Well, he was shaved and had sixteen bucks; time to see what kind of trouble he could get in next.

Burke walked in with all the confidence of a door to door evangelist. Ready to resell himself to whoever would listen. The music was wonderful, and the people-colorful. The Blowout was a beer joint that looked very much like those on that annoying country western station that he would occasionally channel surf across. It had wagon wheel chandeliers, neon beer signs and trophy heads mounted on the wall. The tables were glass topped flat truck tires.

The folks inside were swinging, stepping, swaying to the sounds of a snappy country-western band. They were line dancing. That looked quite interesting. Everyone seemed to be having a damn good time.

Burke approached the bar and ordered a draft. It came in a frosty mug. This was good. He was feeling a bit conspicuous in his suit with everyone else around him was in jeans and hats, but there wasn't much he could do about that. There were lots of people here; maybe someone here was a trucker going north.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Burke turned around and was facing Tuna's friend. "Look what I found" the driver said holding out Burke's watch.

"Where was it?" he asked.

"Found it on the seat where you were sleeping, it either fell off or you took it off. Had to drive a couple of miles back to give it to you, but I don't like my friend being called a robber. Like I said, that ain't Tuna."

"Thank you very much, can I buy you a beer?"

"What are you nuts or something? Why don't you figure it out city boy?" the man asked. As he turned to leave, he gave Burke a push catching him off balance and knocking him backwards off of his barstool. Burke went crashing into the seat next to him and the floor. He was soaked in beer. It had been ages since he had had a physical one on one encounter with anyone and the experience sent his emotions reeling.

He looked up in contempt. "You don't know who you are messing with" he said while trying to regain a scrap of pride.

"Sure I do. A piece of shit from the city!" He stepped up and kicked Burke viciously in the ribs. The sound of his boot made a thug sound on Burke's torso as he groaned in pain and curled into a fetal position. Two men rushed over and grabbed the aggressor the arms. They began hauling him toward the door. "Don't come back here ever, you piece of city shit." he yelled back at Burke. "Or I'll give you more!"

Two women that were near by rushed over to help Burke get up. "Are you OK Mr.?" the older of the two asked. She quickly dismissed her companion. "I can help this gentleman Aliren" she said and gave her a sort of cryptic power look. Aliren walked away looking over her shoulder at Burke who seemed was very embarrassed.

"Hey Shorty, get this man a refill on his draft. Frances lost control again" she said and added "make it another frosty." Then turning to Burke "The way it works here honey is your first one is a frosty, and then as the night moves on your glass gets nastier and nastier, especially if you chew. But you should get another one, since Frances ruined yours. He's has a problem. Last time he got like this, the walked him out in 'cuffs and a man had to have his jaw wired up. Well, at least you're OK." She began blotting his suit with a handkerchief that she produced from her sleeve.

"Ah-thank you. Thank you very much. It's been a long and confusing day. I'm a long way from home."

"We all are. My home is in Dixie. Hey we haven't formally met. I'm Della but not the Della who owns this place. I saw the name on the sign when I was driving by one day. I stopped off for a sandwich and a soda--that was eight years ago. It's funny how time fly's."

The bartender filled a new frosty and standing at the far end of the bar slid the draft all the way down to the other end. It stopped in front of Burke as though breaks were applied. Perfectly. Not a drop spilled, but the foam started rising and Burke was pressed to keep it from topping over.

"I'm Banyon Burke, though most just call me Burke" he said with a foam mustache on his upper lip. "Glad to meet you." He was quickly coming back down to earth after a jaunt in upper middle-class white collar America.

"Well Burke glad to meet you too. Hey they are starting the Rooster Rockstep. Wanna dance?"

"I'm afraid I don't know how to line dance."

"Come on. It's easy. I'll show you how. She grabbed his hand and although he was like a bass that just got suckered on a rubber night crawler, she had the expertise to bring him in. She had him.

They began: Right strut-Left Strut-toe in. Shuffle step, boot brush Right vine-Scuff!

To Burke it was Saturday Night Live on Budwiser. He felt like a 20th century cowboy. Della put her hat on his head and he responded by screaming Ye-ha! Della seemed only mildly embarrassed.

Instinct took over. His slumbering young man woke suddenly; his body awakening as if from a deep sleep. In his imagination he was Burke in the spotlight. It was kind of like the old band days. He Remembered. He had the moves. He had the focus. Loosening up he let go of all inhibitions-YE HA! Right strut-Left strut. Della laughed at him. She had a twinkle in her eyes. Shuffle step, boot brush, Scuff-whoa!

His feet went out from under him; slipping on the wet floor. His mind switched from Burke the entertainer to Burke the survivor double clutching into slow motion as his feet left the earth. He could see Dela's face change from delight to shock as his feet left the ground and his upper torso lunged backward. He could see the wagon wheel chandelier above him as he smacked the oak planking. He landed one leg forward, the other back. There was a searing pain in his ankle. Burke was hurt badly. The dance stopped abruptly and a crowd gathered around the injured city cowboy. Burke heard someone in the crowd say "them old guys gotta learn to take it easy."

It was Aliren that came forward and determined the extent of Burke's injury. She assumed care for him. "I have to get him to the emergency room. This is serious" she said. Some of the men helped Burke to his feet and making a chair of their arms began carrying him out to Aliren's car. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" someone asked.

"No I'll have him there before it gets here" she replied. Turning to Burke "don't worry I know what to do. We'll get you some help right away." They put Burke in. He was in such extreme pain that he wasn't sure of what was going on around him. "You take care if him Aliren!" Della shouted as her car pulled out into the night. "We never even finished our dance!"

Aliren looked over at Burke. She could see that he was in intense pain and tried to divert his attention away from his injury. "Well let's see" she said. You were in the Blowout for about fifteen minutes and you managed to get knocked off your barstool and bust your ankle dancing. How do you manage?" she asked with a smile.

Burke avoided the question. "Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"To the emergency room, you are hurt pretty badly." Aliren stepped on the gas. She noticed that Burke cringing every time the car hit the tiniest of bumps. "They will X-ray you and figure out if it's broken or torn. Anyway you look at it, you'll probably have a cast of some sort on it for a while. Most likely you will never dance ballet again." Burke tried to managed a weak smile.

As they were driving Burke looked at Aliren. There was something about her-familiar. Very familiar. He couldn't figure out just where he knew her from though. He worked on the problem for a few minutes. It began to drive him nuts. "Do I know you?" he asked finally.

"I'm taking you for medical attention cowboy, there's no need for pickup line here" she replied.

Burke was not working his rescuer; "no really, I think I know you from somewhere. Do I?"

"Do you?"

Burke was tossing around images in his mind. There was something about her. Peaceful. He looked for clues. She seemed like someone who kept popping up into his life over and over and over again; only he didn't have the sense to realize it. So it seemed to keep happening, slipping away, and becoming a new surprise again and again. Deja Vu. Now that was a seventies concept-was it? The earrings. Crosses. Lots of women wore crosses. He couldn't have known her from Wakefield. She would be in her forties like he was-unless she was two then. They were a long way from Chicago. Aliren didn't seem to work into that world either.

"Have you ever been to Wakefield?" he asked.

"I have. Many times. Have you?"

"I used to live there. Do I know you from there?"

"When was the last time that you were there?"

"'74"

"Don't flatter yourself Burke" she said as they arrived at the hospital. She let him off at the emergency room. "Don't say anything, I'll be in as soon as I park." Sure enough, she walked in a few minutes later and began working the registration desk. After a while she came over to Burke.

"OK I told them that you were my husband and that you'd be on my insurance. If the bill is more than a thousand dollars you'll have to marry me" she said with a grin.

"Thank you very much. I do have insurance, I'll reimburse you for everything, even your trouble."

"You don't have enough for that" she said.

Being in the emergency room was like a drive-through barmitzvah. Plenty of rituals at breakneck speed. In between were long periods of waiting. During the waiting Burke and Aliren chatted. They gave Burke some pain medication and that loosened him up a bit. He told her about Sunni, kangaroo steaks and the Lexus. He told her about the strange wedding between Mostly-Bob and Fauna. "You certainly have some bizarre friends" she said. He told her about his job and about Maggie. Burke surprised himself when he admitted to leading a lonely life. He told her about TJ, mooning on the news, and the man that was found on the shore years ago-the question still smoldering in his heart. He told her about the limo and why he left Wakefield. "Sounds like the story is going to end there" she said. "You all need to reunite and get closure on some issues." She was right. Burke felt a heavy weight lifted from his heart. It had been quite a while since he could really be himself. He actually liked who he was when he let his guard down.

Burke did have a broken ankle and was casted. Mounting a pair of crutches they walked out of the emergency room at four-fifteen A.M. "I suppose that you don't have anywhere to go tonight" Aliren asked.

"No, I guess not. It looks like I went from the seven teenth floor to being homeless in less than twenty-four hours. How does stuff like this happen?" he asked.

"OK you can spend the night at my place" she said. "Can't very well have you gimping around the countryside in the middle of the night with a broken foot, can I? Tomorrow I'll take you back to Wakefield so you can go to your friends wedding."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You didn't. I offered. What other options do you have?" She was right. Burke needed her right now.

"I'll make it up to you. I'll pay you back and then some."

"Please don't try to put a price on kindness that will ruin it." she said quite seriously. She was right again. The went back to her place where she led him to the sofa and made him comfortable. He remembered to call Maggie's voice mail and leave a message for first thing in the morning. Burke was surprised to hear her message stating that she would be attending off site education for the remainder of the week. Surely he didn't authorize that. He needed her in, to do many things. Tomorrow he would find a way to contact her. Before he fell asleep he saw Aliren checking in on him one last time. Her silhouette in the hallway looked like that of an angel.