LOYD BURL AND THE HOOTER’S GIRL

CHAPTER 5

Monday April 6, 1987

LOVE IS AS STRONG AS DEATH, JEALOUSY AS CRUEL AS THE GRAVE (Song of Solomon 8:6)

            Is love at first sight a real thing? Is it actually possible? Does it mean that you’re in love when you can’t stop thinking of somebody? Or would just knowing somebody for only a matter of days be infatuation?

             It was the day after Cat and I kissed for the first time. We also shared a second, third and fourth. Each one lasted a little longer. Then Cat giggled, gently pushed away from me. “We better stop or I’m gonna have to take a cold shower.”

            She was gonna have to take a cold shower? If that were true, I would need a polar plunge!

            I had twelve stops on my afternoon delivery schedule. I was sitting at a desk in the warehouse, putting my invoices in order. My mind’s eye was replaying Cat’s and my face merging, bringing me the most thrilling moment of my life, when a familiar, and to me melodic, voice interrupted my daydream.

            “Penny for your thoughts,” Becky said with a smile.

            “Huh?”

            “I want to know what has you in a trance and grinning from ear to ear.”

            “Oh,” I chuckled a little embarrassed. “I was just meditating on one of my favorite Bible verses.”

            “Oh yeah, what is it?”

            “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for his love is better than wine. That’s from Song of Solomon, chapter one and verse two.”

            “I see,” she replied with a puzzled frown.

            “I met this girl a few days ago, and we seemed to hit it off pretty good this weekend. She told me this Bible verse, and yesterday, well, we put it into action.”

            All of a sudden, Becky’s smile seemed forced. Was it my imagination? I didn’t think so. Could it be she was jealous? I wouldn’t think so. But then it even faded as she bent over to retrieve her low heeled pumps from under a shelf of fan belts.

            Weather permitting, Becky always went for a walk during her lunch break. Usually she went with a female coworker or two. But this day she was alone. She pulled up a chair and sat only about five feet from me as she changed from sneakers to dress shoes. “So tell me about her.”

            So I related everything, from our first meeting at Hooter’s when she very coldly rejected me to our putting Song of Solomon chapter one and verse two into action. To my surprise, Becky didn’t seem all that happy for me.

            As a matter of, she did something she frequently did when her marital problems led to separation, and then divorce. She pursed her soft looking lips, twisted them to the right, and appeared to chew on her cheek.

            “Is something wrong?” I couldn’t help asking.

            She looked startled, and then emitted a fake laugh. “No, no! I’m happy for you. It’s just… well… I’ve sometimes wondered if you were gay.”

            It felt like I blushed for some reason. “What, just because I haven’t dated much?”

            “It seemed like you didn’t date at all.”

            “I’ve gone out on a date at least once a year.”

            She laughed. “Not only that, I kind of thought you and your roommate might be an item.”

            “Kyle!”

            “Yeah,” she shrugged. Then she winced and rubbed her neck and shoulder. “Between you not dating and Kyle seeming a little, well, light in the loafers, I just put two and two together.”

            “Believe it or not, Kyle has always been quite good with ladies.”

            “Really?” she frowned.

            “Yeah, he’s got charm, charisma, or something. As a matter of fact, he’s responsible for setting Cat and me up.”

            She shrugged, and then winced again.

            “Your neck bothering you?”

            “Yeah, I guess it’s tension.”

            Becky and I had become close enough, and comfortable enough with each other over the last couple of years that I walked behind her and began massaging her shoulders.

            “Mmm,” she purred. “That feels good.”

            “What’s causing the tension?”

            “Bruce and I had a fight to start the weekend,” she explained, referring to the guy she had been dating since her divorce. “I actually told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

            “If it’s okay to ask, what was it over?”

            She put her hair in a handheld ponytail and closed her eyes. I leaned toward her and sniffed the rose fragrance of her shampoo. I was a little surprised that my new infatuation with Cat hadn’t diminished my attraction to Becky all that much.

            “The longer we’ve been together, the more he’s revealed himself to be the jealous type. Friday he got into a snit because he thought I was too friendly with a convenience store clerk. That coupled with the fact that his kids don’t like me, I had enough. So our date ended before it started. But we both brooded Saturday, but then made up Sunday. We had a long talk and he apologized. He explained that his ex-wife had cheated on him, so it tends to make him sensitive to his woman being friendly with another man.”

            “I see,” I replied, feeling my jaw clench. I had only met Bruce twice and wasn’t impressed. He struck me as a Tom Selleck want to be. He strutted like he was the world’s gift to women. His jealousy probably stemmed from not believing a woman would find somebody besides him attractive.

            “Believe it or not, my ex-husband and I never really fought. We just gradually developed this distance between us. I know he felt something like shame for not being able to get me pregnant… I don’t know.

            “Anyway,” she continued with a conspiratorial whisper. “I had always heard that make up sex was incredible but had never experienced it until last night. It was good, really, really good. Ouch!”

            “Sorry, I guess that was a little too hard.”

            “No, that’s fine, no pain, no gain. Can’t expect knotted muscles to break up without a little discomfort. So, did you and this Cat woman do more than kiss?”

            “No, we’ll be saving sex for marriage,” I replied, intentionally giving her a subtle rebuke for being intimate with a man she wasn’t married to.

            Oh the ironies of life! The dynamics of my feelings for Becky had in fact changed since her divorce. One of the things that drew me to her from the start was her old fashioned values. But as I got to know her, it seemed to be a facade created in my own mind. I guess you could say I put her on a pedestal.

            My first disappointment was discovering that she smoked. Yet I myself back then was an occasional smoker, especially of a certain illegal plant. Another ying to the yang of this thing was I enjoyed watching how daintily she lit a cigarette. Also, watching her inhale deeply and blow out a stream of noxious fume was sexy. Not to mention the pinks and reds of her lipstick left on the filters.

            The second was actually her divorce. I came from a conservative family, and back then, for us anyway, there was still a stigma with a divorcee. On the other hand, I was glad she was single, but this also caused a recurring fantasy. It went something like: ‘Loyd, now that I’m single, I must admit that I’m in love with you. I know you are a very principled young man, but would you please spend the night with me?’

            My standard reply: ‘Well Becky, I must admit that I’m in love with you too. For you, and you only, I will violate my ethics. But only if you promise to marry me.’

            ‘Oh Loyd! I would be honored to be your lawfully wedded wife! I just didn’t think it possible, what with our age difference.’

            ‘Age is only a number, my dear.’ Then I would kiss a woman for the first time.

            But that could never happen now, for I had been in a deep lip lock with Cat, and it was wonderful! So why hadn’t my feelings for Becky dissipated? They had only shifted, and the undercurrent of my desire changed to something, I say this with shame, more carnal.

            That brings me to my third disappointment regarding Becky. I had thought we shared similar values. For as youths, I at one time considered the priesthood, while she considered the life of a nun. So imagine my surprise while eavesdropping on her conversation with another female co-worker.

            On only her second date with Bruce, they had shared a bottle of wine over dinner, of which she had most since he was driving. She had praised him for how responsible he was for not driving drunk. Responsible my foot! He had plied her with alcohol in the hopes of getting her in bed, and it worked. When she began to detail their night of passion, I had to relinquish my invasion of privacy.

            “Refraining from sex until you’re married?” she had asked a little surprised. “You two are talking marriage already?”

            “Oh, no, no” I replied. “But given what we’ve talked about so far, I get the feeling we will be waiting. She has a Christian background.”

            “So is she Catholic?”

            “No, but I’m hoping she will convert.”

            I didn’t know it at the time, but this couldn’t have been further from the truth. During our courtship, we would have intense, mind exercising discussions on history and religion. She taught me things that shook my faith and enlightened me on how ignorant I was when it came to Biblical doctrine. It was I who ultimately converted to her belief system.

            “I guess I’m a little surprised that a Hooter’s waitress is that devout.”

            “That’s pretty judgmental.”

            “Well, come on, Loyd! Forgive me, but when I think of a Hooter’s waitress, I think sexy and chesty, not someone who’s a wholesome Christian.”

            “Well, full disclosure, she says she’s a believer, but back slidden.”

            “What’s back slidden?”

            “It’s, you know, not a practicing Christian.”

            “But practicing enough that she won’t have premarital sex?”

            “Well, it’s complicated. She had something bad happen to her with a high school boyfriend.”

            “Was she date raped?” she asked sympathetically. And that was one of the reasons I loved her. Becky truly cared for other people.

            I shrugged. “That’s my guess, but she hasn’t really talked about it.”

            “Can you get a little more on my shoulder blade?”

            She not only pulled her blouse off of her shoulder and onto her upper arm, she yanked her bra strap off her shoulder with it. Whether she was trying to be alluring or did it innocently, I didn’t know. But alluring it was!

            I had just began to comply with her wishes, when a male voice barked, startling us.

            “Becky, what’s going on here?” Bruce had demanded. He stood in an open overhead door, holding a bouquet of flowers, and glaring at us. “Hey kid, get your hands off my woman!”

            Although a hairy chested, mustachioed, macho man who wore a gold chain around his neck, he wasn’t any bigger than me. Yet I could tell he was a bully. Although I would have loved to break a bone or two, and punch a nose, I wasn’t about to fight in my workplace.

            However, I didn’t even have time to take my hands off of Becky. She arose quickly and declared, “He was just taking a kink of my neck, Bruce.”

            “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

            She snorted. “Bruce, Loyd’s a college kid I’ve worked with for a couple of years now. He’s like a little brother to me.”

            A little brother? Oh well, I had Cat, and she had Bruce. For the time being anyway. I left them to discuss their relationship issues and prepared to leave on my route.

            For anyone familiar with the old detective show Peter Gunn. I used to get frustrated when Pete would mosey along on his way somewhere, and not look around at his surroundings. Next thing you knew, some enemies were pummeling him.

            So on my third stop, I come out of the back door of a truck shop, and into a shaded alley. Would you believe Bruce followed me? Fortunately he didn’t sucker punch me or anything. His goal was to frighten me. It didn’t work. Just the opposite occurred.

            He was pretty strong. I’ll give him that. His right hand grabbed a fist full of my shirt, just below my left shoulder, causing me to drop an alternator my customer had returned. Bruce talked through gritted teeth like Dirty Harry, and I could smell stale coffee on his breath. “I’m gonna tell you something once. You keep your distance from Becky, or I’ll hurt you bad.”

            He also said something derogatory about my desires for her, but I want to keep this story as clean as possible.

            “You want to see something neat, Bruce?” I asked extra cheerily.

            This response threw him off. He was expecting fear, not a clown. No sooner did his teeth unclench and his brow furrow, when his hand, joined at the wrist, twisted in an unnatural position. Now his expression turned to a grimace, and his throat produced a groan as he went to one knee in front of me. I put my mouth to his ear. “Listen Bruce. I don’t like to be violent, but I’m rather good at it.”

            He took a feeble swing toward my groin, so I put a thumb in the hollow by his collar bone and pressed hard. This is quite painful. Go ahead, give it a little try in your hollow by the collar bone. He emitted a loud howl. If someone in the shop had not been using a pneumatic wrench on a truck wheel, somebody would have heard.

            “Stop, please, truce, truce!”

            “Bruce wants a truce? Okay. I’ll leave you alone, you leave me alone. But I’m gonna tell Becky what creep she’s dating. If you hurt her, so help me… Are we clear?”

            “Crystal,” he barked, straightened his jacket in a huff, gave me the stink eye, and left. However, down the line, he wouldn’t keep his word. No surprise, how can you trust a smarmy creep?

            As I drove to my next stop, I marveled that I had never used my karate skills in an actual threatening circumstance. But now, for the second time in three days, I had put them to use. I was starting to feel like it would become a regular thing.