Lesson 21
My apartment was insufferably hot and I had absolutely nothing to do. I’d been living there for two months and now that July was on us, its heat was almost unbearable. My roommate and I had gotten a marked reduction in rent for lack of an air conditioning unit, which we’d thought was a clever move on our parts when we’d moved in there in June. But this month’s heat had required us to be out of the apartment, especially during the day, if we wanted to survive.
My roommate had gone to spend the day with one of his girlfriends whose father had a yacht in the marina and he’d conveniently forgotten to invite me along. I’d felt like flattening one of his tires to try and ruin part of his Saturday, but the heat sapped all my energy to even go outside. The flat screen TV had absolutely nothing on worth watching, so to escape the heat and my boredom, I braved going out and drove into town.
Nothing on the way caught my interest. And I was running low on gas as I was on money. So I stopped driving and parked near some businesses, wondering what I was going to do.
As I was getting out of the car, I saw her, sitting on a bench in front of the Auto Zone, of all places. She must have been catching the shade. I found myself heading in her direction. I actually considered walking around the block to avoid her, but the heat prevented me. I threw another look in her direction and gritted my teeth. Might as well get this over with.
As I got closer to Auto Zone looking everywhere but at her, that annoying voice she used to always put me down with, said to me, “Well, there he is on this, of all the hot days!”
I came back at her with, “Shot down again!” A reference to her put downs of before. There was room in the shade over the bench she was sitting on, and, in spite of myself, I sat down. The shade was a relief.
She tossed her wavy black hair back and said, “So, Joe! You’re looking good!”
I was caught up short by her comment. I slowly crossed my bare leg she used to term ‘spindly’ to buy myself some time. How was I going to get out of this one? Finally, I spit out, “You, too…” I paused, “…Beth.”
The heat seemed like it was beating down on us even in the shade, and, as if on cue, both of us stood up and headed to the air conditioned Auto Zone. I reached over her and opened the glass door for her. Once inside, she let out the squeal of relief I always hated, “Wow! Glad that’s over!”
Meaning, I used to suppose, anything nice I thought I used to do for her, including sex. Including opening the door for her this time.
Once inside, I started to back away from her, making like I was attracted to a display of those car fresheners shaped like little pine trees. Leafing through the various scents that didn’t attract me, I found a new one I hadn’t seen: New Car scent. I filed it away for when I could afford it. Unfortunately, she had followed me and I was surprised.
“Come here often?” she asked me.
I fingered the air fresheners and attempted humor, “Only when I need to get outta the heat.”
She smiled, adding, “They do have good air conditioning in here.”
I then wandered over to where the tire pressure gauges were hanging, lifting a few of them up to check prices. She followed me there, too. She was trying to get my attention.
Then she stood in front of me, looked me in the eyes and, almost pleadingly whispered, “Joe, can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”
I glanced around Auto Zone to make sure no one else could hear us. Then I tried hissing at her, “What you did wrong, Beth? I thought it was all me.”
She whispered back, more pleading in her voice, “Let’s not do this here, Joe, in Auto Zone, of all places.”
“Fine,” I muttered. I followed her twitching backside toward the front glass door and felt a tiny fountain of desire erupt inside me.
Once outside in the heat, she led me to her car in the parking lot, the late model Hyundai Hybrid she used to let me drive, fortunately parked near us. We made it to the Hyundai and she actually opened the door for me first. Turn about fair play? The model of the car’s air conditioning turned on the moment she inserted her key. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out two Sprites, offering me one. My thirst had no choice but to make me take it.
We sat there, sipping in the growing coolness. I managed to mention, “It must be 100 degrees outside.”
She hadn’t even broken a sweat as she answered, “Yeahhh…”
Strains of Roberta Flack’s Killing Me Softly crept through the car.
Beth took a sip and asked me, “Remember this?”
How could I forget, I thought. It used to be our song.
I found myself afraid, suddenly, a feeling I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid. I’d learned early on that I could cover my fear with anger which gave me freedom from looking like a mama’s boy.
So I lashed out at her, “What do you want, anyway?”
Beth narrowed her eyes and commented, “You’re doing it again, Joe.”
I finished the Sprite, swallowing loudly. I lowered my voice and asked her because I truly didn’t know, “Beth, would you just tell me exactly what I’m doing? Please.”
She then told me something which surprised me.
“You always seemed to be angry with me. And I felt like I could never do anything to…” Her eyes saddened as Roberta sang:
Strumming my pain with his fingers…
“…to please you,” she finished.
Singing my life with his words…
A sharp jolt of my adolescent self wanted to lash out at her. But Roberta’s music held that part of me in check. Instead, I surprised myself by admitting, “I thought you were angry at me.”
I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd…
Beth leveled her gaze at me. Then she said, “I wasn’t angry, Joe.”
“Neither was I.”
She turned her face toward the windshield. Then she whispered, “I was just afraid.”
The admission I could never make. The best I could do was to say to her, “You never had to be afraid of me, Beth.”
Still staring out the windshield, she whispered, “I wish I could believe you.”
I sighed, “I wish you could believe me, too.”
Roberta sang on:
Strummin’ my pain with his fingers
Singin’ my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Tellin’ my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song.
I thought the heat outside the car might have lessened some but that didn’t make it any easier to get out of Beth’s car. I wanted her to believe me, to give me enough time to show her who I really was. But I think both of us knew that wouldn’t happen any time soon.
So as she sat there, straight-faced, making our last few moments together seem like I might have had hope, they lasted way too long with her saying nothing. I finally grabbed the door handle and opened it. And I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing, except, “Well, thanks for the Sprite.”
And I walked off into the hot afternoon.