Over the next few days Rita diligently followed Margaret's advice. She continually reminded herself that she was going to make love with Tommy. And she took it the obvious step further, visualizing telling him what she wanted to do and then doing it. She discovered that telling him seemed to be more exciting than doing it. She would imagine calling him at school and telling him to meet her during the day. She'd leave work and they'd hook up at a motel. The first couple of times she pictured that she nearly had an orgasm. But the rest of the visualization, from the moment she'd see him on through their lovemaking, was somewhat of a letdown. Not enough to not want to do it, not like what she still felt when she thought about making love to Eddie (which was nothing) just not as exciting as the leading up to it was.
She spent her day off on Monday visiting with Sherry Brown until Sherry began the four o'clock shift at the hospital. On several occasions her mother-in-law remarked at how good Rita looked and sounded. I don't think I'll tell you why that is, Rita said to herself. She returned home to prepare dinner for Eddie. He was fairly quiet, very much as he'd been recently and went up to bed early, before ten o'clock.
"Don't hesitate to wake me if, ah... if you ah.... well, don't hesitate." Eddie had sort of broken his rule about not asking but it had been a long time.
Rita didn't respond other than to say goodnight. She dreamed of Tommy, not sexually but romantically, walking, holding hands. She woke up pressed against Eddie's back and immediately felt badly that she spent the night with two different men. She wished Tommy was lying next to her and imagined him making love to her. It felt great.
Isabel Brower worked the Richmond Five and Ten lunch counter Monday through Saturday from four o'clock to closing. Margaret came in different times of the day depending on the day of the week but always closed up the counter with Isabel. At about three o'clock on Tuesday, Isabel called in sick, prompting Margaret to ask Rita if she could stay through the dinner trade, maybe till seven- thirty or so. Rita said, "Of course, let me call Eddie and tell him I'll be late."
The lunch counter was unusually busy for a Tuesday night and Rita and Margaret barely kept up. At a little before seven, with things much quieter, Rita saw the back of a very familiar head. She grabbed a menu and walked to his booth.
"Well, can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'll have fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn. And a large Coke."
"You can have anything on this menu and you pick what I make for you twice a week at home."
"Do you remember what I ordered the first time I came in here?"
"Same thing."
"But I didn't have these for you." Eddie handed his wife a bouquet of red roses. It took only a few seconds for tears to well up in her eyes.
"Do I get a meal or what?"
"Coming right up."
By the time Eddie finished eating, Margaret told her to go, she'd finish up. The minute they got inside the door of their home, Rita, still clutching her roses, turned to Eddie, put her arms around him and started to kiss him.
"Wait. Just wait a minute." He took a cassette out of his pocket and put it in their stereo.
"I found this at the store in a mark down bin."
It was Patsy Cline but she wasn't singing their old waltzing song. It was something slower, something Rita recognized but really didn't know.
"Could I have the honor?" Eddie reached out his hand to his wife. They began to dance to the gentle sounds of a song about unrequited love. But that's not what Rita noticed about the song. It was the classic Willie Nelson tune, done by him and many other singers but it was Patsy Cline who had the hit version of "Crazy."
And it was that word that Rita said over and over to herself as she held Eddie tight. "I must have been crazy."
When Rita got to work the next day she couldn't wait to tell Margaret what had happened the night before. When her friend and advisor walked in Rita didn't wait for her to get to the lunch counter, pouncing on her as she hung up her jacket. She told her of Eddie playing the song and how they made love, twice. And again when they awoke in the morning.
"And what about what's his name?"
"I don't know. I'm not thinking about him now. I do think I was crazy but I know I could feel different tomorrow."
"You might. If not tomorrow, then sometime. Maybe you'll dream about him once in a while or get a tingle when you run into him but it's okay. I dreamed about Johnny DiMico when I was married to Charlie."
"Who was Johnny DiMico?"
"My first real boy friend. My first love."
"Eddie was my first love."
"Maybe that's just it. Maybe we all need to fill a little special place in our hearts. Maybe it's a place that we turn to when things are dull, when our lover doesn't treat us so great or when things are kind of sad in our life. And you didn't have anybody to fill that space until you met Tommy."
"I never thought of it like that."
"Did you ever think how you might feel about him if he became the guy who was cheating with his friend's wife? What would you think of him then?"
"Not much."
"Maybe he wouldn't be up to filling that space in your heart anymore?"
"You're right. I just wonder if I wouldn't be better off without him anywhere near my heart."
The phone rang in the precinct. It was a call for Randy Dunne.
"Detective Dunne."
"Mr. Dunne, it's Eddie."
"Jesus Christ, Eddie, you make me feel like an old man. Can you call me Randy?"
"Sorry. Listen, I want to thank you. Everything worked out great. I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything. In fact, it was all Margaret's idea. She's pretty damn good at this kind of stuff. I'm really glad for you, kid; you guys deserve some happiness. But you can do me one favor."
"Yes, sir-- what's that?"
"Can you drop off my tape?
Rita was sixteen years,
Hazel eyes and chestnut hair;
She made the Woolworth counter shine
Eddie was a sweet romancer,
And a darn good dancer--
They waltzed the aisles of the Five and Dime
From "Love at the Five and Dime"
By Nanci Griffith
Questions? Comments? Please send e-mail to jbearden@ieee.org
Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden