the country for a good time I guess. Anyway, I kind of saw what happened out there. Thanks for the rescue. I don't know what he would have done."
"No problem. When you win, it's kind of fun." I didn't mention that my hand still hurt from connecting with his jawbone or that my knee was beginning to stiffen up.
Amy's house was half of a duplex, or what they called a "zero lot." It looked new. Melanie waved to me from the doorway after she was inside and I backed out and drove off toward Highway 218 and home.
The old post office was dark when I parked in front of my door and I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a loving wife waiting up for me inside. The lights would be on and maybe there'd be a fire in the pot-bellied stove. I started humming that old John Denver song about being back home again, tossing in the few words that I remembered.
This was an old standby, as mental images go. It popped up at times like this, after a few beers and a cold lonely drive home to wherever I was living. The imaginary beautiful wife was always Caroline. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist, I thought. Or make a decision to just ask the next woman I saw to marry me and keep doing it until somebody said yes.
As I was hanging up my clothes, I thought of Elaine, my last girlfriend, back in Pittsburgh. I'd broken that off right before I came out here. Our three year romance had seemed to have possibilities. I'd suspected for the last few months, though, that it was the good times I spent with her two young sons that had really kept me in the relationship, rather than any real love for Elaine.
After five months in Iowa, I was certain it had been the right decision. I missed the kids and our times together, hiking, going to Pirates' games, playing catch, and all the stuff you do with 8 and 9 year-old boys. But I hadn't for one minute missed Elaine since I got here. Maybe I was finally starting to know myself and make some good choices.
While I was patting myself on the back, I noticed the red light on my answering machine was blinking, indicating three messages. It was after one-thirty and I wasn't going to return any calls tonight but I gave in to curiosity and played them back. The first was from Iris Wilson.
"Rudy. It's Iris. I just got a call from Charlie's parents. They want to know if I found an old picture of him in his stuff. It's a black and white photograph of him getting some award when he was a kid. If you have it there with his things, call me. Bye."
I didn't remember any photograph like that, but I'd look again in the morning, after I'd had some sleep. The second message was from Maxine.
"Rudy, Honey, I know I was supposed to wait a few more days, but Tal didn't come home yet tonight and I just wanted to talk to you. He did call and say he'd be really late. Something about a meeting again, but...well...you know. I just wanted to talk to you."
From the quiver in her voice, I could tell she'd been on the verge of tears. I was definitely going to meet with my brother-in-law soon, the son of a bitch.
The sound of the third voice made me laugh out loud.
"Rude. Hey man, what's up?" Only it sounded more like 'whassup'. "Long time no hear, buddy. Good thing your loving sister invited me for Thanksgiving or I'd have been sitting here in Pittsburgh eating my turkey from an aluminum tray next week. Call me as soon as you can, man, so we can plan our attack on the Midwest."
That was Woody. Even if I hadn't known his voice so well, I'd have recognized the traditional rendering of Pittsburgh as "Picksburgh." But his voice was more familiar
"No problem. When you win, it's kind of fun." I didn't mention that my hand still hurt from connecting with his jawbone or that my knee was beginning to stiffen up.
Amy's house was half of a duplex, or what they called a "zero lot." It looked new. Melanie waved to me from the doorway after she was inside and I backed out and drove off toward Highway 218 and home.
The old post office was dark when I parked in front of my door and I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a loving wife waiting up for me inside. The lights would be on and maybe there'd be a fire in the pot-bellied stove. I started humming that old John Denver song about being back home again, tossing in the few words that I remembered.
This was an old standby, as mental images go. It popped up at times like this, after a few beers and a cold lonely drive home to wherever I was living. The imaginary beautiful wife was always Caroline. Maybe I should see a psychiatrist, I thought. Or make a decision to just ask the next woman I saw to marry me and keep doing it until somebody said yes.
As I was hanging up my clothes, I thought of Elaine, my last girlfriend, back in Pittsburgh. I'd broken that off right before I came out here. Our three year romance had seemed to have possibilities. I'd suspected for the last few months, though, that it was the good times I spent with her two young sons that had really kept me in the relationship, rather than any real love for Elaine.
After five months in Iowa, I was certain it had been the right decision. I missed the kids and our times together, hiking, going to Pirates' games, playing catch, and all the stuff you do with 8 and 9 year-old boys. But I hadn't for one minute missed Elaine since I got here. Maybe I was finally starting to know myself and make some good choices.
While I was patting myself on the back, I noticed the red light on my answering machine was blinking, indicating three messages. It was after one-thirty and I wasn't going to return any calls tonight but I gave in to curiosity and played them back. The first was from Iris Wilson.
"Rudy. It's Iris. I just got a call from Charlie's parents. They want to know if I found an old picture of him in his stuff. It's a black and white photograph of him getting some award when he was a kid. If you have it there with his things, call me. Bye."
I didn't remember any photograph like that, but I'd look again in the morning, after I'd had some sleep. The second message was from Maxine.
"Rudy, Honey, I know I was supposed to wait a few more days, but Tal didn't come home yet tonight and I just wanted to talk to you. He did call and say he'd be really late. Something about a meeting again, but...well...you know. I just wanted to talk to you."
From the quiver in her voice, I could tell she'd been on the verge of tears. I was definitely going to meet with my brother-in-law soon, the son of a bitch.
The sound of the third voice made me laugh out loud.
"Rude. Hey man, what's up?" Only it sounded more like 'whassup'. "Long time no hear, buddy. Good thing your loving sister invited me for Thanksgiving or I'd have been sitting here in Pittsburgh eating my turkey from an aluminum tray next week. Call me as soon as you can, man, so we can plan our attack on the Midwest."
That was Woody. Even if I hadn't known his voice so well, I'd have recognized the traditional rendering of Pittsburgh as "Picksburgh." But his voice was more familiar
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