Whirlaway by Poe Ballantine

Author:Poe Ballantine
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780998825700
Publisher: Hawthorne Books
Published: 2018-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

16.Tales of Scottish Mastectomy

TWO WEEKS PASSED AND I COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT Shelly and his mother. One Tuesday I cruised by his house, Sweets the butterscotch brute perched on the passenger seat next to me. It didn’t look as if Shelly was home, and his truck was not in the driveway.

He in there, Sweets?

Don’t think so.

How can you tell?

All that turmoil is pretty easy to pick up. He’s as messed up as you.

You think so?

Birds of a feather.

What do you want to do?

Let’s go to the beach. I feel like frolicking in the waves. You don’t have a Frisbee, do you?

I can pick one up. Need to get a Racing Form and a couple of beers too.

But the minute I pulled onto the freeway I was overcome with pictures of Donny and messages I could not decipher.

Head full of static, I took the next exit, turned down the ramp, felt suddenly prescient. And then I knew why. To the right was a Coco’s. It was the Coco’s. It was also Tuesday, and I knew that there was a waitress inside named Deborah who might be wondering where Shelly had gone, and just once I decided I’d like to meet one of his mystery flames. Except for some raw bok choy and the occasional handful of cashews, I had forgotten to eat for several days and my pants were sliding down my hips. I pulled into the lot.

Hope you don’t mind if I drop in here for a few minutes.

Sweets looked away.

It’s Tuesday. I wonder if Shelly is in there.

He’s in Alabama.

How do you know?

That’s what you said.

You never know with Shell. It’s not unusual for him to announce one thing when he intends another, just to clear himself some space.

Okay, so maybe he’s in there. Bring me something to eat, a piece of fish or some French fries.

Coco’s was slow, the limbo lull between lunch and dinner. My eyes scanned the restaurant for Shelly. There were a few oldsters killing time over coffee and a couple of even slower-moving young lovers in the corner, but no Shelly. I tried to imagine where Shelly would sit. That would depend, of course, on who Deborah was. There were three waitresses on duty, none I could rule out. I took a booth by the window.

Two ladies in the next booth over were having a discussion about mastectomy. The larger one, in a Scottish brogue loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear, bellowed: “On me way home from me first fittin’ I’ve a new bosom there and I’m proud of it, but a police pulls me over, see. Well, I’ve put on muh seat belt — that was when they first passed the law, see — but he’s starin’ in at me like I’ve got three eyes. No one’s ever looked at me quite like that before, Viv. I thought for a minute he fancied me. Well, he leaves me finally with a warnin’ only. I was only five over the limit, see, and I think, well, I’ve blagged me way out of it.

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