Becca Page 5

  “Excuse me,” he said to the girl and went to the restroom where he scrubbed his hands the best he could, and washed his face. He paused as he dried it. He understood why people stared, and in the same moment, he understood why the girl had brought him to this restaurant rather than the one next to the gas station.

  He still carried the aroma of the gas station, and he felt self-conscious as he walked back to the booth. The girl had gone. He looked around the restaurant and did not see her, and sat down as the waitress arrived.

  “Where did she go?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t know. I was in the restroom.”

  Bert sipped his Coke and saw the girl walking toward him from the restaurant entrance.

  “Sorry about that,” she said as she slid into the booth opposite him.

  “I thought you’d run out on me. Abandoned me penniless and lost in a strange town surrounded by strange people.”

  That drew a smile from her. She said, gesturing with her hands, “This is an Eat ‘n’ Park restaurant in Harmarville. You go that way a couple of miles and you hit the Hulton Bridge and you cross that to Oakmont and then you’re just a mile or two from the gas station, and from there you’re fifteen minutes from your home. Seriously, Alexander, did you think I left you here?”

  Her calling him Alexander surprised him. “I thought you couldn’t handle the pressure so you split.”

  “What pressure?

  “The kind you get from the people looking at us.”

  “People are looking at us?”

  “You didn’t notice?”

  “No.” She sipped her coffee and then dumped sugar in it and stirred it. “Well, if you must know. I saw one of my friends here.”

  “Ah,” he nodded.

  “What’s that mean, ah?”

  “You came to this restaurant because you were afraid somebody you knew might see your car at the other one and if they dropped in to say hello they’d see us and…well…I understand how that could look.”

  “How would it look?”

  “Awkward.”

  “You think so, huh.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on either side of her coffee cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “People look; they wonder what we are.”

  “We’re nothing.”

  “Ah, but they don’t know that. They see a pretty girl who turns heads with her perfume come into a place with a guy who smells like he’s wearing gasoline aftershave—that’s got to be embarrassing.”

  “Well, I’m not embarrassed. Why would I be embarrassed?”

  “You saw your friend and ran out on me.”

  “I did not run out on you.”

  “You didn’t stick around to introduce me, either. It’s okay. I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  Bert said, “We’re a mismatch.”

  “So?”

  “People don’t like mismatches. And the next time we do this, give me a warning so I can change my cologne. But it’s not about how I smell.”

  “What’s it about then?”

  “How I lo—”

  “Stop right there, buckaroo.” She pointed at him. “That’s not the issue.”

  “No? So next time you’ll introduce me?”

  “Naw, probably not. Before you get yourself all riled up there, this is a one-time shot. There’ll be no next time.”

  “This is it, then?”

  “Absolutely. I wanted to get out of the house and just talk, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m glad this is the only time we’ll do this. I won’t have to change my cologne.”

  She shook your head. “You are something else, Bert—”

  “It’s Bert now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to Alexander?”

  “You’re acting like a Bert.”

  “How does a Bert act?”

  “You’re really getting on my nerves.” She sipped her coffee.

  “Well,” Bert said, “you don’t have to worry about that anymore. This is it for us.” He sat back against the booth and sipped his Coke. The girl stared into her coffee.

  “She saw you,” the girl said. “That friend of mine. She was here with her boyfriend. She saw us come in.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. I mean, she’s cool. Liberal. You’re laughing?”

  “No, I was chuckling. There’s a difference. I laugh at something funny. I chuckle when someone tells me that their liberal friend thinks it’s okay for that someone to sit with me.”

  She sighed. “She wanted to know who you were, what your name was, and all that.”

  “Which name did you give her?”

  She let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “I said you were Bert.”

  “Can you trust her?”

  “Of course I can. You don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “No—you do not.”

  Bert said, “I’m sorry. Explain.”

  “It’s my father.”

  “Ah yes. That’s right. I’ve met him.”

  “You don’t…know what he’s like.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Her green eyes seemed to shine more and Bert realized they were tearing over. She leaned back in seat, brushed hair out of her eyes, and looked out the window.

  “You were wrong before, Alexander,” she said, not looking at him.

  “Ah, so now I’m Alexander again. Okay, how was I wrong before?”

  “You are important to somebody else.”

  “My mom, you’re right.” He watched her stared into her coffee again. “So…what’s wrong? You’re a little down. Fight with the boyfriend?”

  “Yes. No. Well, sort of. Not a fight…just…well I finally saw the light.”

  “Break up?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, if you do, there’ll be another one to come along soon.”

  “What? Like a bus?”

  “No. I mean I can’t see you alone.”

  She smirked. “You don’t know me, Alexander.”

  “That’s true, and here’s something else I don’t know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your name. I don’t know your name.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “I never told you my name?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh my God,” she laughed, and she covered her mouth with one of her hands. “Oh my God, isn’t that weird?”

  “Well,” Bert said, “not if you weren’t ever going to see me again.”

  She pulled a dollar bill from her purse and dropped in on the table. Bert protested but she would not hear of it and stood up, brushing past him before he had a chance to hand her back the money.

  In the parking lot, he caught up with her. “You’re done with me now? You’re taking me home?”

  “Yeah. I think we talked enough, and I can’t think of anything else to do with you.”

  “Thanks for the Coke,” Bert said as the Mustang’s engine roared to life.

  “You’re welcome.”

  They were back across the bridge before she spoke. “Well, if you must know, the reason why I wanted to talk to you tonight was to tell you that I came to the conclusion that you were right about Greg and me.”

  “In what regard?”

  “That we are not like salt and pepper or apple pie and ice cream. We’re just not compatible.”

  “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Not as sorry as I am. I have to explain this to my father. He won’t let me date anybody else but Greg.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Nineteen, so why do you need your father’s permission to date anyone?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Shorten it.”

  She glanced at him. “No, I can’t.”

  “Oh, make a left at this
light.”

  They turned left and started up a steep hill that had numerous stop signs. “You walk this in fifteen minutes?”

  “If I walk fast.”

  “If you don’t walk fast.”

  “Twenty or twenty-five minutes.”

  “Thanks again for lying for me,” the girl said suddenly. “You know…my father.”

  “He was pissed off, and I got the impression he wanted to confront me, and was more pissed off when he couldn’t.”

  “I told him I talked to you…only I said you were Josh—who you are but not really. I can’t lie to him, so I didn’t really tell a lie. Anyway, he might come back again to talk to you because he thinks something is up.”

  “I see.”

  “No you don’t. He doesn’t trust me. Oh…well…maybe he has reason to—or thinks he does.” She sighed heavily. “He doesn’t want me to date anyone but Greg, but he thinks I’m screwing Greg because Greg told his father we were, and his father told mine. But we’re really not, and even if Greg wanted to, I don’t know if I would. But I’m thinking that my father probably wants me to screw Greg so that I won’t revert to my old ways and get mixed up with someone he doesn’t like. At the same time, he’s worried that Greg is losing focus because of all the screwing. But Greg lost focus all by himself. And on top of that, my dad thinks that I’ve got my sights on a guy named Josh—who is you of course. I’m not saying I have my sights on you, but he thinks I do because I told him I’d talked to you…I mean a guy at the gas station and that’s why I was a little late getting home. He came around to the gas station to see if he could spot this guy Josh and he did, but he didn’t know it. He wanted to see if Josh looked like—” She paused and stared at the street in front of the car for a second. “It would drive him insane if I was getting mixed up with a guy like you…oh, I’m sorry, Josh—”

  “A guy like me?”

  “I’ll explain…later. But this is all so complicated, ain’t it? And I’ve said too much. I need to shut up.”

  “So shut up.”

  “But I can’t. I mean…when I’m with you, all I want to do is talk.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “You do? I’m confusing myself.” She offered a weak smile.”

  Bert shrugged as he processed the information just thrown at him. “I do understand, whateveryournameis. Believe me.”

  She smiled now and patted his hand. “You’re funny.”

  “You’ve told me that before.”

  “And you’re really nice.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thanks for listening to me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Really?”

  Bert nodded. “Yup.”

  “So what’s with us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We hardly know each other and we’re talking like we’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Yeah, crazy, huh.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

  “No.” Bert shook his head. “I think I mentioned that before.”

  “Yeah, I probably wasn’t listening. Why in the heck don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “And what’s your answer to her?”

  Bert said, “I’m too dark for some, too light for others.”

  She favored him with a long stare at the next stop sign.

  “You know, there is no go sign. You can go now,” Bert said.

  She shook her head slowly. “That’s crap.”

  “No it’s not—there’s no go—”

  “I mean about you being too dark or too light. That’s crap.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “You’d make a great boyfriend.” She stepped on the gas. “And that’s not flirtery; that’s flattery.”

  “Why thank you. At the next street make a left.”

  She turned down the street and then, at Bert’s gesture, pulled over to the curb. “Is this where you live?”

  “Yup. This is it.”

  She smiled and then said. “Thanks for having coffee with me.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for inviting me.”

  She nodded, sighed, and said, “And now I must face the wrath of my father. I walked out on him.”

  “You were arguing?”

  “Not really…well, yeah, because he accused me of messing around with Greg.” She paused and then said suddenly, “Some guy went to Vietnam because of me.”

  The subject changed surprised Bert. “What? He went to Vietnam for you?”

  “No, because of me.”

  “Uh…well....” Bert was not sure how he should respond. Her gaze gave him no clue. He said, “And I was worried because you took me to Harmarville for Pete’s sake.”

  The girl hesitated, blinking her eyes as if to ward off tears, and then she burst out laughing, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel. Her shoulders heaved and shook her head slowly, slapped her thigh a couple of times and then Bert’s and finally bringing herself under control she leaned back in the seat and took some deep breaths.

  Bert loved her laugh. It sounded as though it had been wanting out for a long time. “Feel better?” he asked.

  She dabbed at her eyes. “Yes.” Her voice sounded sad in spite of her outburst of laughter. Looking sad and on the verge of tears, she nodded at his house and said, “Looks like someone is waiting up for you.”

  “Yeah, my mother.”

  “How sweet. Does she wait up for all of you?”

  “My brothers don’t live here.”

  “Well, it’s nice that she waits up for you.”

  “She’s going to ask me a million questions.”

  “Well they won’t be like questions I’m going to get.” She opened the door and got out with Bert, stretched, yawned, and came around to the passenger side to offer Bert her hand. “Thanks for listening to me, Josh.”

  “I enjoyed it…er…um…Miss?” He loved the warm softness of her hand in his.

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. You don’t know my name. It’s Rebecca Smith.”

  “Rebecca Smith. Becky?”

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t ever call me Becky. Okay? It’s Becca, or Rebecca. But never Becky.”

  “Okay, Becca.”

  “And if you’d like perhaps we can do this again. I mean…if you’d want. You know, just go somewhere and talk…just talk.”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Oh, so you don’t care one way or another?”

  “No…sorry. I would like to listen to you again.”

  She smiled. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Becca.”

  IV

  Greg’s car sat in front of her house. Becca parked behind it and as walked to the front door, it opened and Bill stood beside Greg. Greg’s eyes barely met hers, while Bill glared at her.

  “Becky,” Greg said when she stepped onto the porch.

  “You had us worried,” Bill said, adding too much feeling to his voice.

  “Where did you go?” Greg asked.

  “Where’s Mom?” Becca asked.

  “She’s inside,” Bill said. “She’s been crying all evening.”

  “It’s not a wonder,” Becca said sharply.

  “Where did you go?” Greg asked again. He looked away when her eyes struck his.

  “I went to get some coffee, Greg.” She walked past the two men and went into the house. Her mother was sitting in the kitchen with a half-empty cup of coffee in front of her.

  “Rebecca, honey!” her mother said as she stood up and hugged her daughter. “I was so worried! You were so upset when you left.”

  Bill and Greg joined them. Becca stood at the table next to her mother.

  “Greg said you called him, you two had a fight,” Bill said.

  “We didn’t have a fight,” Becca said, “I broke up with him.”

  “Why?”

&
nbsp; “Ask him.”

  “I did ask him. He’s very upset, Becky. He came over hoping to find you here.”

  “Becky,” Greg said, “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m tired.” Becca started rubbing her leg. The pain had flared up again.

  “We need to talk.”

  “It’s late,” Becca said. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Becky,” Bill said and blocked the door to the hallway when Becca started for it. “You cannot walk away from this. Sit down and let’s talk.”

  “Honey, please,” her mother said and grabbed her hand.

  “Mom, I’m tired. My leg hurts.”

  “Why does your leg hurt?”

  “I don’t know. It just does. It’s nothing.

  “Honey, sit down please.”

  Becca sat.

  “Now,” Bill said, striking a match and lighting his pipe, “what’s this about you breaking up with Greg?”

  “That’s private.”

  “No it’s not. Not when he comes here and tells us about it.”

  Becca looked at Greg, who could not meet her eyes with his. “What did you tell them?” He cleared his throat and started to speak, but Becca would not let him. “You’re so good at making up stories, what story did you tell them? Did he tell you—Dad—that we’re not salt and pepper?”

  “What?”

  “That we weren’t apple pie and ice cream?”

  “Becky, what are you saying?” Bill demanded.

  “We’re not a good couple, that’s what I’m saying.’

  “You’re a perfect couple.”

  “We’re not a real couple, Dad. We’re not a match.”

  “Becky,” Greg touched her hand.

  “You lied, Greg. We’ve never had sex. Have we?”

  Greg blushed. “We need to talk.”

  “We are talking.” She turned her attention to her father. “You asked me tonight if I used protection and you accused me of making him lose focus. You didn’t believe me when I told you we hadn’t done anything. Now you ask Greg. Ask him and see what he says with me here, face to face.”

  Bill said, “You’re talking gibberish, Becky.”

  “Don’t wait for him to ask you, Greg. Tell him!”

  Greg sighed. “She’s right.”

  “You don’t have to lie for her, Greg,” Bill said.

  “I’m not lying for her.”

  “You told your father you and my daughter had been together.”