“Who the hell is Michael Jackson?”
Mary turned away, thinking about the night before. It had been a long time since she had been with a man. She’d been nervous. She wondered if it showed. She hoped she could make it up to Hank in the future although she had noticed he didn’t seem disappointed. And then there had been the terrible dream she had had about lawn bowling. She was watching the American national championship in Los Angeles when one of the competitors, Edward McGee, mistaking her head for a ball, had thrown her across the lawn, with the effect that she had lacerations on her chin and a chipped tooth. She’d woken up laughing and then had been scared out of her mind when she saw Hank’s face above hers staring down at her.
“Do you think that you could turn on the radio the next time you have a guest over?” Terry suggested.
“You were listening to us?”
“Not by choice. Holy cow, who wants to listen to his mother and her lover talking about the lumber industry? Who cares that there was an increase in the production of species formerly little used or neglected?” Mary was silent for a moment, wondering if Terry had heard everything that had been said last evening.
“Hank asked about your father,” Mary said.
Terry turned and looked at his mother. “What did you tell him?” Mary shrugged. She finished the cup of coffee on the table. The coffee was cold. She dropped her cigarette in the cup.
“I told him the truth.”
Terry pushed his cereal bowl into the middle of the table.
“Why do you have to talk about Dad?”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Does that guy ever stop talking?”
Mary shook her head.
“Tell him to stop asking me so many questions.”
“Okay.” Mary smiled. “I’ll tell him.”
“I never thought I’d see my mother dating a giant.” Mary broke out laughing. She stepped up behind her son, hugged him, and laughed some more.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hank leaned over the counter and looked at the various cameras. A slightly overweight teenage girl dressed in a modest blouse and skirt stepped up opposite him.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The braces that sparkled in her smile slurred her speech. Hank looked down and grinned mischievously.
“Am I speaking to the owner?” he asked, keeping his eyes riveted to the girl’s.
The girl blushed, then giggled. Was that supposed to be a joke?
“No, I’m not the owner. Mr. Leblanc is out of the shop right now but I’m sure I could help you.” Why does Mr. Leblanc always pick the worst time to leave? I think he does it on purpose.
Hank liked the girl. There was an openness and lighthearted assertive-ness that was appealing. How old was she? Sixteen maybe. She was not like his daughter who had long ago left home complaining that life there was too dull.
“What’s your name, young lady?”
“Adelle,” the girl replied, staring across the counter at the huge figure.
Look at the size of his hands! Gives me the creeps. It’s like he’s a different species. I hate it when middle-aged men think they are being charming. She wished that Mr. Leblanc would come back soon. She didn’t like being in the shop alone. A girl in one of the dress shops at the Cloverdale Mall had been abducted the previous summer. It had been midday and there were other customers in the shop. No one had noticed her disappearance. We had to go to a special Mass to pray for her safe return. Her parents were there. Her father cried like a baby. It was so sweet.
“Are you in high school?”
“Yes,” Adelle replied. Does he think I chose this as a career? She wondered if she should be giving out information to a stranger. Perhaps she should excuse herself for a moment and phone the police. What would I say? That a customer is making me feel queasy?
“I noticed your uniform.” Hank smiled, his eyes running over the length of her blouse and skirt. He’d sent his own daughter to a Catholic school in the middle of the city. She revolted against the uniform. There were constant calls from the nuns that his daughter was wearing her skirts too high. Adelle’s skirt was rather short. He wondered what Mr.
Leblanc thought of that. Bastard probably can’t keep his eyes off her.
“Oh.” Adelle giggled. “I go to St. Joseph’s.” I shouldn’t have said that.
What if he starts to hang around the school? How would I explain that to the nuns?
“That’s a Catholic girls’ school,” Hank said, his eyes dilating.
Adelle nodded. He’s got that same goofy look that Mr. Leblanc has sometimes. Men are such slimeballs.
Hank returned to his appraisal of the cameras on display.
Adelle sighed. I hope he buys something soon. I’ve got to meet the gang.
Hank glanced at her with a puzzled expression. She wants to meet her friends.
Adelle held her breath and prayed that he wouldn’t ask what the sigh had meant. His eyes lowered to the glass counter. Adelle looked up at the ceiling. Make him go away!
“I’m looking for a particular kind of camera,” he said.
“Well, we have lots of cameras to choose from.” Adelle gestured to the contents of the shop. Mr. Leblanc will kill me if I lose this sale. But what the hell do I know about cameras?
Hank stood up again and looked down at the girl. Adelle looked up at him sheepishly. She’s afraid of me. The thought pleased him.
I hate it when middle-aged men think they are being intimidating.
He continued, “This was a camera tested at Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland by the US Military. It takes pictures at one-hundred-mil-lionth of a second.”
“Is that fast?” Adelle asked. Do I sound stupid or what?
Hank nodded with a smile. “Very fast. They were placed in special balloons that were floated over enemy territory. They were spy cameras.”
“Oh,” Adelle said earnestly. Why would anyone need a camera like that?
“I don’t think we have anything like that.” Unless he’s some kind of pervert.
Hank smiled with pleasure at the girl’s naivety. “No, I didn’t think you would. But, I was hoping that your boss might be able to get hold of one for me.”
“Mr. Leblanc isn’t a spy,” Adelle said with such seriousness that Hank burst out laughing. I hate it when middle-aged men think they are being ironic.
“No,” he said shaking his head. “These cameras have been out of cir-culation for some time. I was hoping that he might be able to find one in army surplus. Perhaps there is a catalogue he could look in.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Adelle sulked. I hate it when middle-aged men are being smart-asses.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” Hank replied. He had gone too far.
Something had upset the girl. Young people were so thin-skinned. Hank turned to leave the shop.
“Excuse me, sir,” Adelle said, her voice now bold and insistent, “what would you need a camera like that for?”
Hank looked back at the girl with disappointment. He could see the type of woman she would become.
He said, “I want to take a picture down a deep hole.” Dead Languages
Terry leaned against the wall of the storefront. Already on his third cigarette, he coughed and then coughed again. He cleared his throat. The tickle was gone. He sucked on his cigarette again. Where the hell is everyone? People walked up and down the covered sidewalk of the Six Points Plaza, in and out of the shops, dragging their kids with them. Walking down the front of the shops, two of his friends, Frank and Wiggy, ap-proached him. Frank was the shorter of the two. Quiet in manner and burly in appearance, Frank was the more down to earth. Boring. Wiggy was tall and gangly and loved to talk. There was nothing in the world more pleasant to Wiggy than the sound of his voice. Asshole. Greetings were extended and accepted. Wiggy lit up a cigarette.