In the six days since Richie Kramer made the band the offer to go on the road with the Bourbon Brothers, Eddie had searched for the right time to break the news to his mom. He anticipated no problem from his father, but was sure his mother would give him a thousand reasons not to do it. This mother and son relationship was typical in that it often required Sherry Brown to show her love to Eddie by giving him hosts of reasons not to do things, not to take chances, even when it was clear he would be doing those things she was warning against. Like this time. It wasn't that she would really try to stop him, he was nineteen and had been paying thirty dollars per week out of his I.G.A. salary into the home for three years. And, all things considered thirty dollars was not an insignificant sum. Eddie and his mother would do a dance of affection and he would be on his way.
Eddie's mother was off this day and his dad was home early (overtime was getting harder to come by at the UPS), so Sherry Brown cooked dinner for "the two men in my life." Unclear as to when he should tell them about his plans for the balance of the summer, Eddie sat down to enjoy his mother's cooking. Over meatloaf, mashed potatoes and salad he blurted out the news. He tried to get it all out at once, the length of time, the travel, not being able to get back until it was over (probably), how his job wouldn't be waiting for him, all of it. But Eddie's Mom didn't try to talk him out of going. Instead she just began to cry, not the tears that often accompanied her warnings of life's great dangers but rather tears of joy.
"I worry every time you walk out that door, Eddie, and I worry more when I know you're in a bar, whether you're playing or not. But it's your life, you love to play the drums and this is a real opportunity for all of you. What about Rita? What does she think of all this?"
Mrs. Brown's remark resulted in Eddie continuing to chew after he had swallowed all the food in his mouth. She'd never met Rita (Eddie's decision, he wasn't sure why), but had talked to her many times on the phone. He knew his mother liked his girlfriend and Rita liked her. In fact, they both had often asked to meet the other in person with Eddie never saying no but always finding a way to put it off. Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, he thought after a moment.
"She's fine with it, mom," Eddie said. "And thanks for making it easy for me."
After Eddie left, Greg Brown looked at his wife who was sitting with her hands over her mouth and her head resting against her chest.
"I was going to say how you sometimes amaze me, but you're crying again.
"I'm crying 'cause I hate him in bars. I never sleep until he gets home and because my little boy isn't such a little boy any more," Sherry Brown said, her eyes now staring at the remains of their dinner. "He's not a little boy anymore."
"Well, you did good. Real good. I'm proud of you," Dennis said. "Come on, I'll wash, you wipe."
There'd been good word of mouth about Cooler Heads appearance at Rosco's the previous week. The place was filled before their first set and it stayed that way through their last. Rita stayed until eleven-thirty, then had Eddie drive her to the ferry in Brian's pick-up. It was drizzling and Eddie said something about what a shame it was to waste such a good drive-in night. At the word shame, Rita thought about her period still not in evidence and wondered how Eddie would feel about becoming a father.
The clock radio next to her bed said 6:42 AM. Rita got up, went to the bathroom and returned disappointed. I'm going to talk to Margaret again she thought as she fell back to sleep. When she awoke it was nearly ten o'clock. Rita hadn't slept that late in months and wouldn't have then if not for the fact she'd lately been having trouble both falling asleep and staying asleep. She walked downstairs to find Big Bob making coffee.
"Good morning, Rita."
"Morning, Daddy."
"I'm putting some toast in, you want?"
Her mouth formed the word "are", as is, "Are you kidding," but she caught herself.
"No thanks. I'm not ready to eat yet. What are you doing today?" she asked Big Bob.
"Well, I'm not sure, but I do want to talk to you about a few things. We haven't spoken much lately and I'm sorry. To tell you the truth, Julie's kind of gotten on me about that and that's the other thing I want to talk to you about."
"Who's Julie?" Rita asked, figuring it was his latest girl friend. Maybe the one she saw him bringing over to their house.
"Her name is Julie Crandell and she's someone I've been seeing for a few months now. I told her about you and now she always asks about you; questions, things I can't answer. That's when she gets on me. She says I should know more about you, talk to you more, do things with you. She's right."
"Are you serious with her?" Rita asked, cutting directly to the chase.
"I think... if you mean marriage, I don't know. But I care about her and she takes care of me. She's a good person, Rita."
He was never around for mom or me to take care of Rita thought.
"Am I going to meet her?" Rita asked. Their conversation had just become their longest period of communication in months.
"Well yes. Look, here's the deal. She has a three-year old son and she's losing the lease on her apartment at the end of the month. She can't afford anything decent, she doesn't make much at the bank and she pays a woman to watch the kid. I've asked her to move in with us." Bob Willis said those last few lines staring at the coffee cup in his hand, but he was looking at Rita now.
"So," was all Rita could think to say.
"Well, I wanted to hear how you felt about it."
"Why?"
"Because it's your house, too."
"What if I said I didn't like the idea?"
"Are you saying that?"
"I don't know."
"When will you know?" This had become a perfect example of why father and daughter didn't speak much.
"What's the difference. She's your girl friend and she needs a place to stay. I don't care." There was a hint of sadness in Rita's voice but not enough for her father to notice.
"Believe me, we'll make sure your, your...," Bob fumbled for the right word, "your routine won't change. I'm telling you, you'll like her. She already likes you and she hasn't actually even met you."
What a load of crap, Rita thought to herself.
"I'm gonna clean up that room your mom used for reading and sewing and stuff. Do you want to help me go through her things? You know it's pretty much the way it was when she died."
No, it's not, Rita said to herself. I went through every damn thing in that room. In fact that was where she found her mom's old collection of 45's and the now famous Patsy Cline record.
"No, that's okay, Dad. I've got stuff to do around the house and maybe I'll see Eddie later."
"Oh, yeah, how is that kid? Haven't seen him around in a while. You've got to have him over to meet Julie."
Yeah, sure, Rita thought.
Rita had no intention of seeing Eddie that day. He slept very late on Sundays and by the time he got himself together he'd be at Tommy's for practice. Funny, she thought, that's the first time I've thought of Tommy since the other day at the beach without getting that funny feeling. Maybe it was because her father's words had given her something else to feel.
Late that afternoon Rita walked over to the telephone, dialed Maryann's number and heard her best friend's voice. They spoke for nearly two hours, the way only the closest of friends could and as if they hadn't seen each other in months. They spoke about anything and everything with one exception - Tommy Mullen. Rita even told Maryann about her fear of being pregnant. And the fact that she shared that with her early in the conversation most likely was the reason Maryann quickly and completely forgave and forgot about the silliness that drove these two soul mates apart.
Maryann, for the first time in their friendship, was giving advice.
"Take up Mrs. Brodsky's offer to help you see a gynecologist, do it as soon as possible. Maybe you'll find you're not pregnant and you'll be relieved, but if you are, the sooner you find out the quicker you can figure out what you're going to do." Maryann's words were logical and sound. And Rita agreed. With no school on Monday, they decided they would take a walk over to the Woolworth for lunch and speak to Mrs. Brodsky. But when they got there, all they found was a sign reading "Closed." Had Rita been home just a few more minutes she would have gotten the same Millie Lestor call that Margaret received.
"Let's go back to my house. We can call Mrs. Brodsky, find out what's going on here and maybe we can talk to her about the other thing," Rita said to her friend.
Maryann agreed, but then volunteered the fact that she knew where Margaret Brodsky lived and that it was kind of on the way back to Rita's.
When Margaret answered the door to find two teenage girls standing there, her visitors weren't completely sure they had the right house. With no make up, red, swollen eyes, her hair pulled back and dressed in sweats, this Margaret Brodsky bore little resemblance to the Margaret Brodsky they knew.
"Mrs. Brodsky?," Rita asked.
"Hi, Rita. I recognize your friend, but I'm sorry I don't remember her name."
"It's Maryann." Rita sneaked a raised eyebrow, shoulder-shrugging peek at Maryann as they followed Mrs. Brodsky inside.
"I guess you've heard."
"Heard what, Mrs. Brodsky?," Rita responded.
"You don't know about Harold, Mr. Stoneman? He's dead. Killed himself."
"When did it happen. How did he do it?" Rita asked.
Margaret told her what Millie had said over the phone.
"A police officer just called and he's coming over to ask me some questions. Gee, I must look awful. I fell terrible about what happened. You know, I think I'm to blame, I really do."
"What do you mean?" Rita questioned.
"Well, let's just say our time together on Saturday night went badly, very badly. In fact, when..." as she said that the doorbell rang again. She excused herself and walked to the door. In a couple of minutes she returned, introduced the man as Detective Dunne and said he had requested they speak alone. The girls left, never even getting to tell Mrs. Brodsky why they were there and wondering what could have happened bad enough on a date for a man to commit suicide.
Randy Dunne introduced himself as the detective assigned to investigate Harold Stoneman's death. Tall and good looking in an exceedingly straight arrow way, Margaret noticed his left-hand ring finger was empty. Even in her current state, her hunter gatherer instincts stayed sharp.
Detective Dunne's interview was textbook. Courteous but certainly not warm, he asked Margaret questions that took her all the way back to her first days at the store, then quickly honed in on the last few weeks, then days, then Saturday night.
"What did the two of you do when you came back to your house," he asked.
"We had some wine and talked a bit," she said.
"Then what?"
"We sort of, ah .... we made love."
"Sort of?"
"It was kind of one sided."
"He forced you?"
"No."
"Did you force him?" now smiling.
"Well, kind of."
"I didn't mean to smile. I didn't think you were going to say that. How long did it last?"
"Just a few moments. He was very nervous, very nervous."
"Then what happened?"
"He got upset and left. I tried to stop him..." Margaret was crying now.
"I'm sorry. Just a few more questions. Did you speak to him after he left? Did he call or did..."
"I tried to call him," she interrupted. "I tried that night and I tried all day Sunday. I knew he was very down about the store closing and all that. I never thought... I really liked him, you know. He was a sweet, kind man and I feel like... Gee, I don't know what I feel. I feel like hell, that's what I feel."
"Did he have any friends you know of?"
"No, I don't think he had a friend in the world."
"Except you."
"Some friend I was."
"One more question. What was he wearing when you were with him?"
"A brown sport coat and slacks. Is that what they found him in?"
"Yes. I'm very sorry for your loss. I want to thank you for your time. If we need to talk to you again, we'll call you. I can find my way out." The next few hours were very hard on Margaret, causing her to work exceedingly hard on suppressing feelings of guilt. She had some success.
With Maryann's prodding, Rita called Margaret Brodsky that night. She apologized, talked a moment about poor Mr. Stoneman and then asked for her help.
"Of course, honey. I'll make you an appointment. When can you go?"
Margaret picked up Rita at her home on Wednesday morning for their appointment with Dr. Norma Eaton, sister of Margaret's friend, Carol.
"I think you're pregnant," Dr. Eaton said after an internal examination. "We'll make sure with a couple of more tests. We'll have the results by the end of the day tomorrow, but I'm rather sure. What's your situation, Rita?"
"My situation? I have no situation. Yesterday was the last day of school of my junior year. My boy friend has no idea and I don't want to tell him."
"What about your folks?"
"My mother's dead and my father's a cop and he'll kill me."
Margaret and Rita drove to the lab, Rita gave blood and urine and they then proceeded to the Greenport ferry. The ferry ride was very quiet but not peaceful. Margaret wished she could be more helpful, more supportive to this poor little creature that was in a helluva mess. But she was feeling terrible again about Harold and also had absolutely no experience counseling young girls. They had some lunch, went for a walk around the old town and headed back to Shelter Island.
"You're going to have to tell your father and your boy friend you know?"
"I can't imagine telling my father, Mrs. Brodsky. And Eddie... Let's just see what happens with the tests."
Eddie's band was playing in a local Greenport bar that night and Rita was supposed to go. She called and told him she wasn't feeling well and begged off. No more perceptive than usual, Eddie said okay and that he'd talk to her after work the next day.
The second call Rita made on Thursday was to Eddie. She caught him walking in the door.
"Come over right away," she said. "I've got to talk to you in person."
"What's the matter?"
"Just come over, please."
Big Bob was working the four to twelve shift so Rita and Eddie had the house to themselves.
"I'm pregnant. I found out today and I'm going to have an abortion. There's a woman's center in Nassau County that will do it right away, maybe in a few days. I thought you'd want to know."
"Jesus Christ, are you sure?"
"Yes, all the tests said so."
"No, are you sure you want to get an abortion?"
"There's really no choice."
"You could have the baby." She noticed he said you, not we. She wondered if that was a fair distinction on her part.
"During my senior year in high school? That'd be great. Lots of fun. Then what?"
"I don't know. I guess you're right. What do you want me to do? How can I help? Should I take you to the place?" The word "should" hurt Rita.
"Mrs. Brodsky's going to take me. You've got to work."
"I can take off. I should be there." That word again.
"No, it's okay. I'll just do it, get it over with and everything will be fine. Look, I feel like shit. I'm gonna want to stay in tonight. Call me tomorrow."
"Come to the 'Pig n' Whistle' tonight. I'll pick you up. You need to get out and you'll feel better."
"Call me after dinner," she said as she kissed him on the cheek and guided him to the door.
She watched him drive away and before he was out of sight, Rita Willis, expectant mother, was sobbing.
When Eddie called later that evening, Rita told him to go
without her.
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden