Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marshall
I spent the next day in a haze of anticipation. To celebrate our success, and because I was running desperately low on groceries, I went shopping on Saturday afternoon. I spent about an hour wandering the aisles of Food Lion, and picked up enough pastas, summer sausages, and sandwich helpings to get me through the next week. Yet the entire time, my mind was on Lori: the look in her eyes when I gave her the news, her whole body vibrating with quiet gratitude.
On my final lap around the store, I walked past the wine aisle and snatched up a mini-bottle of champagne. I set it down in the basket; but then, thinking better of it, replaced it with a full bottle. Tonight, there would be no skimping on celebration.
When Sean came over for lunch that day—beer-battered chicken fried chicken, fried okra, and collard greens with benne seeds—I told him about my conversation with my mom the night before and my subsequent meeting with Sam and Lori.
“That bodes well for tonight, I think,” said Sean.
“It does. Two or three weeks ago, I was having the hardest time getting her to talk to me. Now I don’t think I could get rid of her even if I wanted to.” I didn’t want to say this out loud, but when I had turned to leave the night before, there had been a smoldering look in her eyes that suggested I had won her undying loyalty.
“Have you told her about how you ended up in the hospital yet?”
I shook my head. “There was too much else going on last night. Plus, I didn’t want her to worry about me.”
“You ought to tell her. That’s the sort of thing I think she would like to know about.”
We were quiet for a moment while I cut up my steak into smaller bites. I still hadn’t decided where Lori and I were going to go that night. At this point, we could eat sandwiches under a bridge, and I wouldn’t mind too much. When we had first met, I asked her out on a whim because I thought she was kinda cute, but in the intervening weeks, she had come to mean quite a bit more to me than that.
“You know I ran into Annie at the auto parts store yesterday?” said Sean.
“Oh yeah? What did she want?” It had been a while since I’d even thought about our old friend who was so sure she was going to be famous.
“Still writing songs. She actually brought her guitar into the store and played me one. It wasn’t great, but it was a notable improvement over some of her earlier ‘hits.’” He shook his head. “I know we make fun of her a lot, but if she keeps plugging away at it, she might be a competent artist one day. I don’t know; I guess there’s just something admirable in the way she keeps at it, even though everybody in the world makes fun of her. Not many people have that kind of persistence.”
“Not many people are that delusional,” I pointed out.
“No, but at this point, I get the sense that it’s more about her devotion to music. It’s inspiring.”
“And what about you?” I asked. “Have you been practicing your songs?”
“Yeah, I’ve been spending a few hours each night down in the garage. I figure if Annie hasn’t given up on her dream, then neither should I. Last night I was up at Montreux when ‘Mr. Brightside’ came on the radio. And I remembered the first time I heard that song when I was eighteen, how it opened up a whole new world for me. And I remember thinking to myself, ‘All I want in my life is just to write one perfect song.’”
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Even The Killers never managed to write another song as good as that one.”
“No, but they wrote that one, which is more than most artists manage to achieve in their lifetime. Of course, Brandon was like, twenty-one when he wrote it, and I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Well, don’t give up yet,” I told him sincerely. “You may get there someday.”
Sean regarded me silently for a moment. “You know, there’s something different about you these last couple weeks.”
“How do you mean?”
Reaching for the ketchup bottle, he slathered ketchup all over his chicken. “There was a time when you wouldn’t even pretend to listen when I talked about my music. It feels weird to say, but I get the sense that you actually care now.”
“I suppose things have changed.” My eye fell on the stack of books piled up on the sofa. “I didn’t give all that money to Lori just because she’s my girlfriend, although that was certainly part of it.”
“Why did you do it, then?”
I had to think about it for a moment. “I suppose because I realized what a loss it would be to this community if her bakery had to close down. And I wasn’t going to let that happen, not when it was actually in my power to do something about it. And I’ve known her long enough now to know how devastated she would be if she couldn’t bake every day. Cakes and books are her whole world; if they were taken away, she would be inconsolable. And if there’s anything the world needs more of, it’s cakes and books.”
“It makes sense,” said Sean. “I wish we lived in a world where everyone had the leisure to pursue the craft of their choice.”
By now it was nearly five, and I had about two hours to finish getting ready before I picked up Lori. Sean helped me clear the table and left humming “That Green Gentleman.” I took a long shower and spent a few minutes deliberating what I wanted to wear that night. Finally, I settled on a teal shirt, a dark evening jacket, and a pair of boots.
On my way to the door, I paused to examine myself in the mirror. No matter how much I attempted to dress it up, I was in no state to be going out. If anything, the welts under my eyes had gotten darker since the day before. The bandage had the look of a cheap Halloween costume. Lori had once remarked that whenever we went out together, we drew stares. We would be drawing them tonight, but for all the wrong reasons.
I dug through my closet until I found a hat that suited me—a camel wide-brim fedora. Placing it gingerly on the top of my head, I returned to the mirror. At least now the bandage was invisible, my face partially veiled in shadow. But that only served to give me a more sinister appearance. On the bright side, it was unlikely that anyone would attempt to mess with us.
I was still fussing over my appearance when the doorbell rang.
I hadn’t been expecting any visitors, and for a wild moment, I worried that maybe Tom’s boys had tracked me down to my house. But when I peered through the peephole, a feeling of relief came over me. It was Lori.
She was wearing a pair of loose-fitting black pants tied around the front with a drawstring that accentuated her curves and a low-necked silver and purple Doctor Who shirt. In one hand she carried a large grocery bag.
“I was supposed to be the one picking you up,” I reminded her. “What’s in there?”
“I figured why not just have dinner here tonight?” said Lori, stepping into the living room and taking off her shoes. “I bought the ingredients for General Tso’s chicken, which I’ve actually never made before, and a package of white rice. I’ll do the cooking if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course.” For a second I half-wondered if maybe she was too embarrassed to go out with me in public, but those fears were laid to rest when she set the bag down by the stairs and came over to hug me.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, running a smooth hand over my face. She smelt faintly of citrus and baby powder and old books bound in leather. “I just wanted to treat you tonight. It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done. Plus, I’m the sort of person who doesn’t like to go out much. Indoor dates are my favorite.”
“Noted,” I said quietly, filled with an irrepressible appreciation for her. “What if we went to the library?”
Lori let out a low moan. “If only the library were open on Friday night!” she said with a snap of her fingers. “We’ll take a rain check. But in the meantime, there’s food to be made.”
We began boiling the rice and cut up the chicken into squares, coating them in flour and an orange sauce. While we waited, she told me the story of bringing the signed check into Pastor Gustman’s office, and the look of surprise on his face when he saw it.
“I get the sense that he never expected us to actually pay such an exorbitant rent,” said Lori. “He looked utterly defeated when he realized we had come through.”
“Well, of course not. He wanted to run you off the property as soon as possible so that his guys could move in and start their own coffee shop. He’s not going to rest until that happens.” Now he was demanding that we pay upwards of $2,000 a month to rent the property, which we could just barely manage to pay given that we only brought in about twice that amount monthly.
Lori shook her head. “I want to believe the best of him. I really do. But I guess that’s business, and I can’t really blame him for trying to run a good business, even if it puts me out of work.”
“You’re too good for this world, Lori,” I replied. “You have every right to be mad that he’s trying to drive you out.”
“Perhaps,” she said in an uncertain tone. “Anyway, when are you going to tell me how you ended up in the hospital?”
“Ah, yes. That.” I had been avoiding the subject for one reason or another ever since being released.
“Do you not want to tell me?” asked Lori.
“I don’t mind. It’s kind of a long story, actually. Sean’s grandfather had mentioned that there was a group of guys who played poker together on Wednesdays…” I told her about our previous run-in with Tom and River and how I had become determined to win the money she would need to keep the bakery in business.
Lori paused in the middle of stirring the chicken and set the wooden spoon down on the counter. Surprise and something like disbelief shone on her face. “After almost getting thrashed by those guys once before, you went down there and tried to win that money for us?”
I nodded. I wouldn’t have painted the story in such heroic terms, but that was the gist of it.
Lori turned from the stove and strode forward, light blazing in her face. Wrapping her arms gingerly around my neck, she began to kiss me tenderly and fiercely. “Marshall Savery,” she said low in my ear, “sometimes you’re too good to be real.”
Feeling slightly abashed by this sudden display of attention, I shrugged. “I’m nobody special, really. Just me.”
“I know,” she said, brushing her lips against my collarbone. “And that’s what I love about you.”