Long Ago and Not Very Far Away
Installment #1...Tucker Fuhrman
Tucker Fuhrman brushed an invisible piece of lint off his trousers. He knew he was going to buy this BMW, but he did not want the salesman to know his plans. Let him sweat. It was just exactly what he needed to make him feel good about himself. His new company had taken off in a blaze and he had the money. He did not do things like this very often, but today he would.
"I don't know, John. I am not sure I like the color. Suppose I could have it painted but it would be quicker and easier to just buy a black one to begin with, don't you think?" He pulled his chapstick from his pocket, removed the cap and applied it to his lips. Colorado was very good at drying his lips, hands and every other part that reached the air. St. Louis had been more humid and he liked that, but he lived here now, so he made his consessions. St. Louis was far away. He let his mind think briefly about Janice and then turned to the lot and smiled at the Corvette waiting there. " I got to go. I will call you in a day or so. In the meantime see what you come up with."
He folded his 6'2" frame into the bright green corvette and inserted the key in the ignition. It sparked to life instantly and he pulled the seat belt across his chest and clicked it into the latch. He hated to leave the BMW alone in the lot, but this was a game that had to be played and it was one he would win. The BMW was brown and brown would never do. The leather upholstery was grey and that was good, but brown was just not in his vocabulary.
Tucker pulled into the parking lot of the little Italian Deli two blocks before he got to his house. He was hungry for something, but not sure what. Italian for sure. He settled for a bowl of spaghetti, two meatballs, some garlic bread and then after a moment of reflection decided he needed a salad. The lower track was just not up to par and something green might be in order. Carole, the server, placed it in the bag, added it up and then asked, "Anything else, Tucker? Something to drink maybe?" She looked at him coyly through her long lashes.
"No, thanks, Carole. I have some wine in the fridge and that will just have to do."
"You know I would love to help you drink that. Don't you ever get lonely? I sure do."
"No, I don't. How much?" He gestured at the sack of food.
Carole glanced at the ticket and announced, "Nine dollars and eleven cents." She pouted a little at Tucker and he ignored her as he laid a ten and 3 ones on the counter, picked up the bag and turned to go. As he exited the door he overheard her snarl at the cook, "Fucking fag! He ain't fooling me."
Tucker made a mental note to look for another Italian Deli in the neighborhood. It was just easier than trying to explain to women like Carole that he was looking for a woman with class and he would not settle for anything short of what he wanted. He was not going to rut around with someone just to pass the time of day so they would not think he was gay. He knew he was straight and he knew what he wanted. Was it his fault that the women in the world he lived in were all just looking for a husband and not really caring about what he wanted? Lord only knows he had spent 55 years on this earth being disappointed and he could sure spend another 55 if he needed.
He pulled into the alley of the condo on Clifton and pointed the opener at the garage door. It raised quickly and he did not hesitate as he pulled in beside his three motorcycles. They were better than a woman any day of the week. As he opened the door of the Corvette he leaned across the seat and picked up his sack. Hooking his keys in the belt loop of his jeans he threw his leg over the Norton and settled his lanky frame on the leather seat. This was heaven. He pulled the bowl of spaghetti out of the sack, fished out the plastic fork and proceeded to devour the meatballs, the spaghetti, the garlic bread, but the green salad remained in the bag. So much for the problem with the lower tract. He ran his hands lovingly over the handlebars of the Norton. Maybe he would take it for a little spin tomorrow. Once more his mind thought back to Janice.
He had planned on marrying her. He really had. But that was 30 years ago, and her mother had not thought him good enough for her. Maybe he hadn't been then. Maybe he still wasn't, but one thing was sure, it had been her final call. He still remembered her standing small beside her ramrod stiff mother. He remembered the tears in her eyes as he turned and walked out the door. He had walked slowly to the Triumph hope against hope that she would run to him and into his arms. But she hadn't. Her mother had won and he had left St Louis and gone to Cleveland. That part of his life was over. Janice was dead to him and St Louis was far away.
Tucker got off the Norton and entered his condo, turning off the light in the garage and on Janice, the lost love of his life. The one he measured all women by in this present life.
