All the Turkeys…er…Lilacs in Ohio

Another Thanksgiving…it was hard to believe that so much had happened in the past year and we were back to the Holiday season so quickly. But, then most of what went on was at light speed anymore.

In any case, I was a bit out of sorts, because I had no specific plans for my day. For once.

Ryan and Jade had conned the keys to the cabin out of Sam. Well, not conned, exactly. Sam had seemed relieved to surrender the keys. He avoided the cabin like the plague on holidays. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. He and Beth had spent the end of 1998 there and he had probably been thinking that those months had signified the beginning of a life-long relationship. Anyway, Ryan had decided that his family was going to celebrate the day on its own, in its own way, and the place to best do that was in the woods. It might remind the adults of the places where they had been so happy. And Mick could throw dirt clods at the loons.

Elmore had also made a dinner date. Cori was preparing dinner for Elmore and Lehman. She’d confided this fact to Jade and me several days before the fact. She was nervous, having never been responsible for such an elaborate meal before. She’d even seemed vaguely uncertain about the menu. My first impulse, as always, was to leap into the fray and try to make it easier for her by doing as much of the pre-preparations myself as I could manage.. Jade had taken a pretty dim view of this action, and had dragged me into the Washroom to tell me as much.

Jade: She won’t learn a thing if we do it all for her.

Deb: But, it’s a big meal when you’ve never done it yourself.

Jade: What’s that got to do with it? She’s shy, not stupid.

Deb: I know that, what the hell do you think…

Jade: She can handle it. We can tell her what she needs to do, she’ll manage fine.

Deb: I know she wants to make a good impression on Elmore…

Jade: Sure she does, and we can help out. But I’ll bet she’d like to serve Elmore a meal that she made herself, not something that we cooked and she warmed up in the nuke.

Deb: Oh, shut up. You’re sounding like a female, now. You oughta be ashamed.

Jade: How’d you feel, the first time you cooked for Bill?

Deb: Totally indifferent. Fucker’d eat fried chunks of bowling pin.

Jade: Well…maybe that wasn’t a good analogy.

Deb: Maybe not.

Jade: Bite me. Come on, Lehman’s gonna be so lit he wouldn’t know if he were eating fried chunks of bowling pin, and Elmore’s so sweet he wouldn’t say a word one way or the other, except to thank her and tell her he loved bowling pin and could he have more.

Deb: Point taken.

We had passed along some recipes for stuffing and fancy breads, told her how long to cook the bird and how to compensate for the stuffing, told her that Elmore would volunteer to bring a pie or we would be kicking his ass for him, and turned her loose. Later, Elmore would tell us how she had somehow managed to get all the stuffing inside the turkey and how the carcass had literally dismembered itself before she took it out of the oven and how she’d been worried about carving the bird and how Lehman had lightened the whole thing up by plucking a leg out of the middle of the massacre and, after gnawing off a chunk, stating that it was about the best turkey he’d had in recent memory. We would hear about how Cori had pinkened up nicely under the praise, and Lehman had tactfully not mentioned that he hadn’t had a homecooked turkey in recent memory, or that recent memory was a fluid term. But that was for later.

Bully was off doing Bully things, Hawk would be spendng the holiday with friends…and that left Sam and Bill and Rainer and me.

Needless to say, I was contemplating a dismal Thanksgiving locked away from the Howling Bastards and the football game, another Minnesota Vikings/Dallas Cowboys clusterfuck. I had no plans to cook. It would have been hard to cook in a house with no goddamn stove since the cabinet-builders were on strike and the rest of the fucking thing was behind schedule anyway and I was going to kill Little Dick…

I hate it when I that happens.

Three was going to my mother’s house with his brothers, and I knew I could have bundled Rainer up and gone there as well, but I didn’t feel like going alone and Bill scared the creeping Jesus out of my mother. He was so big, and quiet, and fast, and good-looking, and close to her age…and he looked at my stepfather like the man was some new species of shit. Mom maintained that Bill should marry me for the sake of the boy and a lot of other Mom-type rhetoric that Bill was happy I ignored. I told her repeatedly that I was happier and more secure than I’d ever been in my life and that was the end of it but it never was the end of it, though observation told me Mom was more secure nagging me when she wasn’t doing so under Bill’s level stare.

Sammy solved my problem for me.

Bill was doing something to Rainer that was making the baby howl with laughter. I was waiting for the explosion that would signify the reappearance of Rainer’s breakfast.

Sam: I think it’s time that boy met his grandma.

Bill: He knows his grandma. Damn near bigger than she is already, too, ain’t ya…aw, dammit…what’d she feed you…

Sam: You know goddamn well who I mean.

Evil stare met evil stare. Rainer slapped at the mess on Bill’s shirt, and laughed when it splattered up into his father’s angry face.

I hung back, waiting to see what was going to happen. If Sam was going to insist on the trip, Bill would doubtless think of eighty reasons why we couldn’t go, then when Sam had turned his attention to something else Bill would announce the same travel plans as though they’d been entirely his idea. And if Sam decided to go along, it would be like riding in a lion cage. Sheer cussedness was all it was

Bill: Oh?

Sam: Yeah.

Not the Monosyllable Twins again.

Bill: Can’t.

Sam: No such thing, boy. You don’t wanna. You ashamed or somethin’?

Bill calmly withdrew Rainer’s finger from his nose.

Bill: Go fuck y’self. Need t’watch out for this addition the Punk wanted.

Deb: I wanted? Leave me the hell out of this, man, this is all your idea! All I’m getting’ out of this is more shit to try and keep clean! My ass I wanted this!

Bill: Hire a fuckin’ cleaning service, I toldya.

Deb: Merry Maids, right, get bit.

Bill: Where?

Sam: How many times is Mama gonna have to ask you before you bring him? You know how Mama is about babies.

Bill: Yeah, I know. She seen yours yet?

I nearly bit off the end of my tongue.

Sam: That in your fuckin’ box, too?

Bill nodded briefly, said nothing.

Sam: The girl thinks Biggs is her daddy and she’s in junior high. I’m not sayin’ a word and neither are you.

Sam turned on me.

Sam: And what the hell are you starin’ at? You think I was savin’ it all up for Beth?

Deb: Of course not, Sammy, I never…

Sam: So you never heard it. Are you takin’ Rainer to Mama, Strannix, or am I draggin’ your ass?

Bill: Goddamn, okay, okay. Punk? Go on upstairs, pack us up.

I decided that I was the 20th Century, female, lone equivalent to the Light Brigade. Mine was not to reason why and all the rest of that turgid shit. I nodded once and continued on up the stairs.

Bill: And don’t pack that goddamned monkey suit!

Sam flew us. I’d forgotten he'd had a pilot's license, it had been so long since his accident. Apparently Hawk had encouraged him to take up flying again, so Bill and Rainer and I cooled our heels as Sam consulted meterological charts, did load calculations, speed calculations, fuel calculations, and finally filed a flight plan. Bill was fed up with waiting. Throwing a pile of cash on the cashier's counter, he left me to get change while he marched outside to harass Sam. Bill booted the fuel attendant in the ass and set about filling the wing tanks while Sam finished his walk-around.

Bill strapped Rainer's carrier securely into the rear passenger seat.

Bill: You splatter this boy all over the state of Indiana, I'll kill your ass.

Sam: I don't think that'll be a problem, boy.

Bill: No? Then why'd you bounce your own ass all over San Saba county?

Sam snapped.

Sam: You think you can do it? Go right ahead!

Bill: I think I just might!

Deb: Hey, hey, hey! Come on, Sam! If he flies like he drives, we won't make it to Indiana!

The first several thousand hours of the flight Rainer and I managed to snooze in the bouncing, rattling rear seat of the plane. We awoke when Sam landed at O’Hare, his old stomping grounds, and wasn’t that a fucking trip. Jetliners from most of the airlines in the world hurtled over, under and around us while Sam serenely threaded our little puddle-jumper through the chaos and set us down behind a Midway Boeing-MD80 and in front of a Northwest 737. I had to run directly to the restroom, because I knew the only way to get out of Chicago would be to repeat the entire production in reverse, sort of like running with the bulls at Pamplona and then finishing up the day by turning the tables on the animals. Sam and Bill only prolonged the agony by deciding they needed to go into the city and do some useless shit or another before we left it again.

I was awake for round two, which began when Sam went to great lengths to prepare a cigar for consumption, or whatever it was he did with the evil, stinking things.

Bill reached across, snatched the cigar out of Sam's kisser and hurled it out his open window. Rainer tried to follow it, but Bill had firm hold of the baby's overalls and whanged him back down on his bottom.

Sam: Hey, son of a bitch! That was a five dollar cigar!

Deb: Sammy, you said you had someone to mind the house while we were gone…

Bill: Damn, I love knowin' what my tax dollars pay for. Looks like somebody's gonna have a damned expensive hole in their yard, doesn't it?

Deb: Sam, would you mind telling me who you got to watch the house?

Sam: I oughta--

Deb: Why do I feel like I stumbled into the ring just as they let the lions in? Hey! Shut up! You're scaring Rainer! And who’s watching what’s left of my poor house?

Rainer appeared to be loving every minute of it.

Bill: Button up, back there. You know what the Punk thinks of smokin' around the boy, what the hell d'you expect?

Deb: Sam! Who's! Watching! The house?

There. That got their attention. That and being whacked across the back of their hard heads.

Sam: Friend of mine, deputy chief of the Minneapolis force, Lucas Davenport. He and his woman'll be out for a couplea days, just so Elmore doesn't have to be away from the Corner.

Bill: Shit, no! Not that goddamned asshole!

Deb: Shut up, you.

I emphasized this by dusting off his head again. He dodged or I'd have got him good.

Deb: Do I know him?

Sam: He was around the hospital when Captain-fucking-Nemo here first landed there. His woman helped Kimble patch him up, damn near missed her own wedding.

Deb: I'd like to thank her. Of course, sometimes I have no fucking idea why I would.

Bill had gone into a funk and was mumbling and growling at Rainer.

Bill: Goddamn pain in the ass cop, just like your friggin' uncle there. Woman's probably too good for his ass...

Sam: Now, who's that remind me of?

Bill: Fuck you, man! Just fuck you!

Deb: He hates it when you do that, Sammy.

Sam: I know. Why d'you think I try so often?

Bill was back to mumbling and snarling to the baby.

Bill: I'm gonna kick his ass, boy... and when you grow up, I want you to kick his ass, too...

Bill rented the only car he could get on short notice. The drive into downtown Cleveland in a lemon yellow Ford Focus hatchback defies description to this day. Bill was the high priest of camouflage, and this thing stuck out all over the place.

He found us a suite of rooms at the Hilton--it was all they had left. Sam bitched about dumbasses not calling ahead from the airport, Bill bitched about dumbasses and their bright fuckin' ideas. I put down the deposit on the rooms.

Bill got Rainer's portacrib assembled, then blasted out in search of food. Grimly, Sam followed him. The last thing I heard was 'room service, call room service, you half-assed bastard,' but Bill, in addition to being stubborn, was absolutely unimpressed with room service food. He would be looking for pizza, or a burger, damn the arteries, full-speed ahead.

Rainer crashed instantly. I pulled out my laptop and plugged into the port nice Mr. Conrad Hilton provided. I dialed in to Frontiernet--long distance? Who gives a shit-- and logged in to my email. Jade had promised to email me if she started to go stir crazy and I expected my email to be jammed. But I only had one message.

Deb: Hawk? He's coming up again?

Then I opened it.

"Hi, Deb... or are you still 'the Punk'?

"It's been a long time since we last saw each other, it must have been right after the Corner burned down. I should be more specific. I mean the Lubbock Corner. Sounds like you guys are going great guns up there, now.

"It's me, Beth. I know, 'I thought you died,' and that was what I wanted you to think. But let me explain."

I drew a deep, shuddering breath, and scrolled down.

"I faked my own death. Not for insurance purposes and not because I was going into deep cover. I had to use the cut-rate version of the Witness Protection Program because I needed to get away from Sam.

"Now don't get yourself all bent out of shape there, Little Mother. I know how you are about Sam and God help anybody who managed to fuck him over, but hear me out before you send this message to email heaven. Just give me a chance."

I wasn't angry with her. I was sad, and I wasn't sure who I was sadder for, her for feeling she needed to take such drastic measures, or Sam for losing out on something he'd wanted. I scrolled further. Apparently Beth knew damn well she had a bit of 'splainin' to do.

"The thing with Sam went a lot farther than I ever wanted it to, and waaaaay too fast. One minute I'm thinking 'hell, I wouldn't mind dating the big goof,' and the next thing I know we're stapled together at the hip. I never expected the thing to go into meltdown that fast.

"For a while, it was wonderful, believe me. I wasn't used to the attention from men in general, let alone one like that. The flowers, the lovemaking... the bottom line devotion... it was all new, and that made it exciting. I would get up wondering what Sam would make the day bring me.

"Notice what that last sentence said."

I knew what she meant. Sam had a way of making things go *his* way.

"You already know where I’m going here.

"I started to get scared when he bought the house and the dog--by the way, look after Hewey for me, I miss him--and then when he conned me into quitting my job, I started getting desperate. I had never wanted that kind of life. I had never wanted the kind of attachment Sam wanted to be. But it had gone so far, I was in so deep. I'd tried to tell him but he refused to listen--oh, he quit pushing things after a while, but his intentions were clear and I had no doubt that he would wear me down eventually. Mrs. Samuel P., God, the very idea scared me. I had to get out."

So, why did you choose such a convoluted stunt? Why didn't you just end it?

"So, you're probably wondering why I went to such extremes.

"The thing was, I cared for him, deeply. If you want the truth, in some ways, I still do. And I knew that if I simply broke it off, packed up and moved on, it would tear him up. As mixed up and freaked as I was, I couldn't have that on my conscience.

"Anyway... I asked Elmore to help me. There are a lot of details I'm foggy on myself, but he helped me set it all up and he got me out of town. Elmore only did it because I asked him to, and I hated to take advantage of him that way. For some reason, he'd waited for me all those years and all it got him was more pain. I only sleep at night because he knows I'm not coming back--ever. Please... help him find someone who can make him happy the way he thought I would. He deserves it.

"Perhaps what I did was dishonest. It was definitely cowardly. I couldn't make myself look him in the eye and say the words. It was the only way I would think of to make a clean break. I never wanted to hurt Sam, but it was hurt him or hate him and I had to decide which was the lesser of two evils. In the end, I'd rather have him grieving and thinking I was his and that I would have come around some day.

"The email address should give you a clue as to where I landed. How I got here, I couldn't say, but I'm very happy. He's not interested in entanglements anymore than I am. He takes what I offer and doesn't give me more than I want. This feels right.

"Anyhow, I'd think some things will make more sense to you now, for example, why he answered the message in the first place. I knew Jade's voice and Bill's name, he put the rest together.

"I suggested he stay with you because... well, hell, doesn't everybody? Honestly, I told him you'd look after him without making him feel like the standard issue mortally ill guy in the white hat. Ever see The Shootist? Not my Hawk. I'm glad he can stay with friends. He's a lot sicker than he lets on.

"I need to get going. Try not to be mad at me, please.

"B."

Oh, God Almighty. Beth.

TO BE CONTINUED….