The Chicago Relay

By L. P. Sloan

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She had to read the sign that marked the village boundary to know she was in Paradise. While growing up she’d spent almost every weekend there from early spring until school reopened in the fall so could only envision it crowded with tourists and pink impatiens and the blue balloons that touted each August’s Wild Blueberry Festival. She’d pretended its sandy roads were the boulevards of Marseilles and Whitefish Bay the Mediterranean. But on that early December afternoon Paradise lay as still and faded as an aging photograph and the bay featureless, an endless pool of cooling lead that extended upward into a sky just as gray. There was no horizon and she was disoriented.

Straining to see out the car’s snow-blurred windows as Ollie slowly drove toward the solitary traffic light, she had time to look into the faces of the few people who scuffled along the edge of the road. The chill they caused to pass through the small of her back surprised her. None of them seemed to know or care how worn and unsettling they were, their passionless eyes reawakening a bewildering gloom in her. It fixed in her chest and tightened the way it had twenty years earlier when she shivered on top of a wind-stripped cliff on Nova Scotia’s Atlantic shore and witnessed as her only sister entered the postulancy of a cloistered order; Like swinging shut the door of a mausoleum.

She was grateful to have Ollie next to her. She’d never told him about her sister and he gave her a reason to shake off the unwelcome association of her memories. Men considered such second-hand emotions to be pointless and evidence of moodiness in a woman and since she was certain that this was the day he’d propose, she didn’t want to jeopardize her chances. When he unexpectedly turned off the road and parked at a tavern that looked like the only place in town that was open for business, she smiled and kicked his tackle box aside so she could get out of the car and thought maybe a drink would take away the chill.

They sat at a booth in a corner just inside the door on wooden benches severe enough to inspire a United Baptist to watch for the Holy Ghost to descend from the rafters, but only dusty coyote and beaver trophies, lashed to the tops of the blackened beams and laced together with ropy ochre cobwebs, stared down through plastic eyes.

He shouted their order across the empty room to the bartender, black coffee for him and a Bombay martini for her, while she stretched toward the dim light of a yellowed little window and checked her make-up in a compact mirror.

"We don’t stock Bombay, ma’am. Beefeaters OK?"

She sighed. "It’ll have to do, I guess." Some bartenders still addressed her as miss, at least the ones in the upscale bars who wanted a good tip. But not this one. Just by looking at him she could tell he was a backwoods hick who’d probably make her martini with cheap house gin and think she’d believe it was Beefeaters. But she smiled as though these thoughts had not crossed her mind and leaned across the table and purred in so far as she was able, "OK Ollie, tell me what in the name of heaven we’re doing in Paradise. And it better be good, Love."

He smiled. "It’s a surprise, Angel. There’s something down around Newberry that I have to get. And I’m not going to tell you any more, so don’t ask again! It’s a surprise!"

She liked his answer so kept smiling, then decided it might be prudent to change the topic of conversation, not wanting to appear too eager. "I wish you could at least have a beer with me."

She’d meant her comment to sound sympathetic, but he barked, "Jesus Christ, Angel! Don’t do that! Help me out here."

Flinching, she quickly explained, "I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry, Ollie."

"My God! You know I’ve got almost three months in at AA. I’m doin’ good just to be able to walk into a place like this and have a cup of coffee. You didn’t know me when I went through those first few weeks so maybe you can’t understand. But they were hell!"

"I said I’m sorry. I know what you’re doing takes a lot of courage. And it makes me grateful that I don’t have a problem with it. I admit I can abuse it now and then, but if I was an alcoholic I don’t know that I could do what you’re doing. Would it help if I don’t drink in front of you? I mean, I don’t really have to have a drink, ya’ know. I mean it’s not like I need one. I don’t need one."

"Nah. It’s OK Angel. I didn’t mean to get hot. Have whatever you want. Just ‘cause I can’t drink doesn’t mean the whole world has to quit."

They stopped talking as the bartender navigated his way across the uneven floor planks toward them, yawning as he juggled the brown plastic tray that held their drinks. "Looks like the snow’s let up. You folks goin’ far?"

Angel said, "Not far. We’re from just over around Sault Ste. Marie. The Ontario side. Just here for the day. Road’s aren’t bad, though. Route 123’s been plowed; at least that leg of it. Do you know if it’s been cleared on down to Newberry?"

"Oh, you’re from the Soo. Got people there. But yeah, I guess it’s been cleared. Plows were out earlier, and the sand trucks too, so it should be OK." As he was walking back to the bar, he added, "I’ll be right over there if you need anything. If you don’t see me, just holler. I don’t go far."

As soon as the bartender was out of earshot, Ollie leaned across the table, frowning, and asked in a rough whisper, "Why the hell would you tell all that to a bartender?"

She looked up, surprised. "Huh? What’d I say?"

"Jesus. You told him where we’re from, where we’re goin’, and how long we’ll be there."

"So?"

"Jesus Christ, Angel. You don’t know who he is! For all you know he’s a serial killer or a rapist or a murderer or God knows what."

"Well I didn’t exactly give him my name and a road map to my house, now did I?" She turned and looked at the bartender: unshaven; a dirty black and red checked shirt that looked like it had been worn for weeks stretched barely-buttoned over his belly, revealing unwanted glimpses of torn and dingy underwear; skin as gray and plump as soiled overstuffed upholstery. Slouched across the cold grill he grinned up at an I Love Lucy rerun on the television that sat on a shelf hanging from the ceiling in the corner. From where Angel sat she could see missing teeth. "He doesn’t have the energy to be a rapist, or the brains to be a serial killer. If he’s a threat to anyone besides himself, then I’m Lucille Ball."

"Just drink your gin and don’t volunteer so much information."

"OK. OK. That’s about all the information I have anyway. Remember I’m the one who doesn’t even know what the hell we’re doing here!" She twisted sideways on the bench and tried to find a comfortable position for her back, first stretching her legs across the seat, her feet sticking out into the aisle, then squirming back again. Taking a deep breath, she reacquired her pleasant smile and said, "But sorry. You’re probably right. I should be more careful."

"No. Maybe it’s me that should do the apologizing. I got a little testy again. I just don’t want to see anything happen to you. And maybe I’m a little preoccupied with my ‘surprise’! It really is special, Angel. Well…special to me, at least."

She stopped smiling. "Special to you?"

"I told you, Angel, I’m not going to tell you what it is! Trust me."

"When you told customs we were going to Newberry, you were lying, weren’t you? We’re not going to Newberry. If we’d been going to Newberry you’d have turned off I-94 at the south-leg of 123. Going through Paradise is the long way. So you planned to come here the whole time, didn’t you? I knew you were lying as soon as you said it."

"You don’t think you’re Lucille Ball, you think you’re Sherlock Holmes. For the record, I never lied to customs in my life. Or to you. But you, my dear Angel, have certainly lied to customs, and on many different occasions! Remember the time you ran down to St. Ignace and got that huge bagful of pot? Enough to get you convicted as a dealer ten times over! Hell, sweetie, you put it in a box and wrapped it up with baby-shower paper and tied a big pink bow on it and drove across the bridge with it setting right next to you on the front seat! Remember that, Angel? And you even had little Jason in his car seat in the back like some kind of a sick stage prop. Now, that was a lie, and a well planned one. So don’t give me any crap about withholding a little information from customs."

"That’s how you told me to do it! Sort of. You said the best way to hide something is to leave it out in the open and make it look like it belongs there. So that’s what I did! But that was different anyway. You don’t have any marijuana in your car, and they don’t throw you in jail for not having a good reason to go to Newberry!"

"Christ! Can we just drop this?"

"Why’d you want me to bring Jason along today?"

He sighed, and said, "’Cause I thought it’d make you happy. And I thought the little guy might have a good time."

She wondered if she’d made another mistake, said the wrong thing again, made him angry, risked driving him away…so she mustered her most convincing tone of sincerity and said, "That’s nice. That was very considerate of you. Thank you. And I’m sorry for being so suspicious…I think the weather has me down a little. But as far as bringing Jason along today, to tell you the truth, I wanted us to have this day to ourselves. A seven-month-old can be a handful. Especially traveling."

Ollie smiled. "Who’d you leave him with, anyway? Your neighbor?"

Angel shook her head as she swallowed the last of the martini. "You mean Diane? I’ll have to introduce you to Diane one of these days. You’d like her. She’s a little chubby and I know you don’t like fat women, but she’s got a terrific personality." She wished she could tell him about the seventy-five pounds she’d lost going to Take Off Pounds Safely with Diane but she’d already told him she’d never had a weight problem because she didn’t want him to think that someday she might get fat again. "But, no," she continued, "Jason’s not with Diane. I told you she’s down in Windsor visiting her mom ‘til after Christmas. He’s at that day care over by the bridge. You know, the one everyone calls ‘the kennel’? They keep kids overnight. I told them I didn’t know when we’d be back, so they’ll keep him if I’m not there by nine tonight." Then she allowed what she hoped was a few coy seconds to pass before she added, "So…tonight…it’s no Jason…and no neighbors…just you and me. Maybe you can stay this time?"

He turned his head and looked across the room at the television screen and asked, "Does anyone know where you are?"

Her face went hot and she looked down at the tabletop for an instant so he wouldn’t see her cheeks in case they were red. Pretending she’d not asked him to sleep with her, she answered, "No. I didn’t know where we were going, so how could I have told anyone anything?" Her voice sounded hollow but he didn’t notice.

"Just wondered what the day care would do in case of an emergency."

"Oh." She looked toward the bar. "Jason will be fine. Push comes to shove, I signed papers so they can take care of an emergency as well as I could. You’re driving. I think I’ll have one more drink." She waved at the bartender and pointed to her glass.

"OK. But now listen. I don’t want you to get excited or angry about what I’m going to say next ‘cause I know I didn’t mention this part of the surprise to you before, but I have to leave now. But not for long! I won’t be long! I’ll hurry back as soon as I can."

"You what? Whatdya mean you’re leaving? Where are you going?"

"I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise! Remember? Trust me!"

She smiled a little again. "Give me a hint!"

"Nope."

"At least tell me whether or not you’re going to Newberry. I mean that’s over an hour away! How long should I plan on sitting on this torture device of a bench?"

"All I can say is that I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take your time and enjoy your drink. Order another if you want! Just be patient! This is special!"

"And it’s something you can’t do back at the Soo?"

"Nope."

"And I can’t go with you?"

"Nope."

She leaned her head back and grinned to taunt him. "What’ll you do if I just decide to leave?"

"You’re baiting me, so I’ll take the bait and say that I’ll just start driving toward the Soo and track you down."

"Sort of the way you would a moose, huh?"

"Nah. I wouldn’t hunt you as hard as I’d hunt a moose. Never bagged a moose before."

"Right. And I imagine you’ve bagged your share of Angels! But you know somethin’, Ollie? You’re lucky you’re such a damned good-lookin’ man. If you weren’t I’d have dropped your butt yesterday."

He looked directly at her, his grin crooked and sly looking in a way that gave her goose bumps, and asked, "So you love me for my body, huh?"

"Hell, I’ve told the women at work about you and they ask if I won you in a raffle. But I’ve always been a sucker for black hair and blue eyes and probably will be again, so don’t let it go to your head."

He laughed. "Do you know why I gave you that bracelet?"

She looked down at the lapis lazuli stones heavily linked together with dull 24k gold jasmine blossoms and vines. "I have a good idea what your reasons were, you sneak. But I love this bracelet anyway. I’ve never seen anything like it before. But you probably gave it to me for some sappy reason like it’ll make me think of your eyes every time I look at it."

"Bingo. And it works, doesn’t it?"