Eddie got home as his mother was leaving to do a night shift at the hospital. She kissed him hello and good-bye and left. She'd been running late and didn't take the time for the usual small talk and light questioning she did whenever Eddie returned from anywhere. She didn't like the fact that he played in bars and had told him that when he announced the band's first job. But, Eddie's dad was on his side and got his wife to go along "for a while and see how it goes." As an emergency room nurse who daily experienced the worst life had to offer, she feared some bar room brawl would result in her son being wheeled into her hospital, a thought that reoccurred in the form of nightmares. The dreams came fairly often and were quite similar in nature. She would at first see a young man on a stretcher and then notice that his face was missing. She would go on as if nothing was terribly unusual, prepping him for whatever emergency medical procedure was involved and only when this faceless young man began to call out "Mommy, will I be all right?" did she realize it was her son. At that point she would awaken, sweating and shaking. She'd never told anyone of the dream, not even he husband. She couldn't bear to think about it, much less explain it to another person.
Eddie went upstairs to lie on his bed and listen to music for a while. He was tired, so that meant something mellow. By the time he rested up, ate and showered, he would get dressed to Led Zep, but for now Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young would do. Before he got comfortable he heard his father come in the front door and call out his name.
"Yeah, I'm up here," Eddie responded.
"Come on down. I've got a proposition for you," his father replied.
Eddie loved his father and their relationship was as good as a relationship between people as diverse as a forty-four year old father and nineteen- year old son could be. And it had definitely gotten better than in Eddie's early teenage years when communication between the two of them had become questions from the father greeted by one syllable, rather inaudible grunts from the son.
"Can I take you out for dinner." Eddie had expected to hear those words and while his plan involved, typically, Rita and the drive-in movie, it wouldn't be dark for a few hours yet so supper with the old man sounded just fine.
As Rita finished locking up the little, old, soon-to-be-dead Woolworth store she felt like kicking herself. She knew since this morning Mr. Stoneman would be at Mrs. Brodsky's house for dinner, therefore not able to hang around to the seven-thirty closing at the store. She could have called Eddie at the I.G.A. and told him to come down and take her home. It wasn't the ride, it was barely a ten-minute walk. It was that they hadn't danced together in sometime due to Mr. Stoneman's new habit of staying most nights to closing. She knew it was kind of silly and she had begun to tire of Patsy Cline's lament, but those few minutes with Eddie Brown had come to mean more than a dance. They were at once both a symbol of their closeness (until she got the idea to make him dance with her each time he picked her up, it seemed as if they were both unsure of their feelings. Soon after the dancing began she felt they became truly close) and a reminder of how much simpler things had been just a few months before.
As she walked the still bright streets of Shelter Island (roads would be more accurate; there was precious little pavement on the Island and the residents aimed to keep it that way), she agonized again over the sex thing. What was so great while it was happening would, seconds later, be a weight Rita carried around until their passion lifted it from her. And the worst thing about this feeling was that she still hadn't figured out whether it was fear, guilt, shame or something else. On more than one occasion she had made up her mind the enjoyment wasn't worth the pain and had tried to explain how she felt to Eddie. But it seemed she always chose the wrong time, when they were completely alone, when she would wind up wanting him as much as he wanted her. It wasn't as if he wasn't aware of what she was going through. He'd say he understood how she could be "mixed up" about it but he loved her and she loved him so it was all right. She didn't doubt it was that simple for Eddie, but it sure as hell wasn't that simple for her. She wished her mother was alive then quickly decided she wouldn't be able to tell her that her not quite seventeen year old daughter was having sex on a fairly regular basis and needed her to help with figuring out why she felt bad about it. As she reached her front door she decided that she would again tell Eddie how she felt, but would do it over the phone, tonight, before he picked her up.
By the time Eddie got back from dinner Rita had called and left a message on Eddie's answering machine to call her. Eddie's three inch high alarm clock said it was only a quarter of seven so he decided to clean up before he returned her call.
Eddie's showers were always long (his parents used to complain but had given up) very long and very hot. He felt he did his best thinking in there and was truly amazed when he shared that with other people finding not everyone felt the same way. As the hot water steamed up the bathroom, even steaming up the hall, Eddie dreamed about the band catching a break. He hadn't quite decided what that break might be but based purely on their success at Rosco's, he was sure something good was about to happen. Now, none of that might seem unusual or even significant - Eddie was a nineteen-year-old drummer in a rock 'n roll bar band and if wasn't going to have dreams who was? But it was a departure from the guy whose friends gave the nickname "Easy Eddie" to back in the ninth grade. He always took things as they came, living for today and next weekend but rarely any further. If Eddie had lived a couple of hundred years earlier he would have been quite happy to, as times demanded, been whatever his father was. Maybe he was changing, maturing. He really hadn't given a thought about where his relationship with Rita was going and, as events in the near future would force him to do just that, any new found ability to look down the road could prove to be very important.
At eight o'clock, a half-hour or so before he was to pick up Rita, he decided he'd better call. He was going to blow it off and just pick her up but realized her call could have been to cancel or change their plans. He called every few minutes until eight fifteen, kept getting a busy signal and decided to just take the five-minute drive to Rita's house.
Rita had tried to call Maryann several times during the day with no success. Each time she called, Mr. Palladino had answered and said, not very convincingly, that Maryann wasn't at home. When Rita arrived home a little past seven thirty she was armed with a plan. She called Maryann's number, put a handkerchief over the phone and told Mr. Palladino she was Kathy, a girl Rita knew sat next to Maryann in Biology class.
"Hi," Maryann said into the phone.
"Maryann, we need to talk. I'm sorry about what happened. I'm sorry about what Eddie said. I'm sorry I didn't get all over him the minute he said it but I swear I did two seconds later." Rita was speaking as fast as she could form words, hoping to get her thoughts across before Maryann hung up.
"I know," Maryann responded softly.
"You know? What do you mean you know? How do you know? If you know, why did you run home? Why did you avoid me all day?" Rita hesitated. "I'm sorry. I'm talking to you like you're a child. I'm sorry."
"That's just it Rita. That's why I was so upset last night. Not because of what Eddie said or anything; I heard you call him an asshole. I'm upset because you treated me like a baby. First, you convince me I might have a chance with Tommy and then go around trying to get Eddie and God knows who else to make up bullshit so you can find a way to let me down easy. Well, it's your fault I got so stupid. But the worst part is we're not like friends anymore. You're trying to be my mother and you can't be my mother I don't have a mother and I don't need one. And, I really don't want to talk about it anymore." Maryann hung up.
Rita was crying before the phone clicked and she cried for several minutes after. She was crying when Eddie walked into the kitchen where Rita was sitting on the floor, her head propped against the base of the stove, the phone still in her hand.
"Jesus, sweetheart, what's the matter?" Eddie asked. "Who were you just talking to?"
Rita got up and hung up the phone. She motioned Eddie to follow her into the den to sit down.
"That was Maryann. She chewed me out for making her feel like a child, for acting like her mother. She's my best friend, my only real girlfriend and she's pissed as hell at me. Jeez, this is all so stupid. She says I made her believe she could get Tommy! I didn't do that. Why would I? How'd she get that idea? I can't believe how things got so screwed up."
Eddie hadn't the faintest idea what to say, but he knew damn well he had to say something, especially since he had gotten himself mixed up in this stuff.
"Could I do anything to help?"
"No, thanks, that's sweet. It's my problem. She's my friend and when you get right down to it, maybe it really wasn't that big a deal. She still feels crappy that her mother ran out on her and her father and I guess something little can turn into something big. I'm going to walk over and see her tomorrow morning. It'll be okay." Rita believed about a third of what she'd just said.
"Maybe you've got to try to just be her friend and not her mom. You know you don't have a mother either. Maybe you can let her be the mommy a while." That's a joke. Laugh, for Christ's sake he thought as Rita glared at him. In a few seconds she did laugh. A lot harder and longer than his attempt at humor was worth In another few seconds they were in each other's arms but that too didn't last very long.
"Eddie, wait. We've got to talk," Rita said.
"Hey, I know. No messing around in your house. Come on it's dark. Let's go."
"No, that's not what I mean. I've been trying to tell you for a long time that I feel funny about us having sex. I'm not sure why, but it's bothering me - a lot. Like almost all the time. It's not that I don't love you but... I just feel funny about it." Rita had her head down as she spoke, but raised it now to look at Eddie. He was smiling.
"Okay," he said.
"Okay, what?" she responded.
"Okay, we won't do anything you don't want to do. It's not like I forced you, you know." Eddie wasn't smiling anymore, but he wasn't angry either.
"I didn't say you forced me. The point is I love to do it and then I feel awful. You can't encourage me." Now Rita was smiling.
"You're the boss. Your wish is my command. So, what do you want to do tonight?"
"I don't know. Maybe we'll just hang out here. What do you want to do?" Rita asked.
"How 'bout the drive-in?" Eddie responded.
Rita tried to hit him but he ducked. They spent the night
watching TV until Rita fell asleep and Eddie drove home.
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden