Chapter 5
She tore up the street with the ease of a seasoned racecar driver, a regular Mario Andretti. I was overtaken by the thrill and feeling of total freedom that was more exhilarating than anything I had ever before experienced. Everything was absolutely perfect and then BOOM; it was all gonzo, kaput, over.
We had no sooner reached the end of our street and were heading downtown where everyone cool would be able to see me and Beth in the world’s hottest car when who should come walking towards us but Harold with his gangly legs and gleaming zits. In my excitement and perhaps because I wanted to show off a little bit too, I had this momentary lapse of memory and called out to him. “Hey Korkala!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as we sped by. He turned his head looking dazed and confused and waved back, more out of politeness than recognition. We had driven about a half-a-block past him and he was still waving like he couldn’t stop himself. Beth came to a screeching halt and flung the car into reverse, heading back to where Harold was standing. “What are you doing?” I screamed. I could feel the panic rising from the pit of my stomach.
“What does it look like? I’m backing up the car,” she answered, in that cool way she had of stating the obvious.
“Ah jeez. Why?” I pleaded, slumping into the seat knowing full well what would happen next.
“To pick up your friend.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“Liar.”
And that was that.
Harold, Beth and I became a threesome right there and then. As Harold jumped into the back seat of the car my heart sank, all the excitement and joy squashed by his hideous grin. He reminded me of a Saint Bernard on speed.
Beth introduced herself before I had a chance to do the honors. Just like our first meeting, Beth and Harold were immediately familiar, like two long lost friends who finally found each other. It was hideous.
“We were just going out for a little drive. Care to join us?”
“Oh yeah! I’d love to.”
“Oh yeah! I’d love to,” I mimicked. “Ah jeez. This can’t be happening.” Harold stuck his head between Beth and I as we headed towards town; I could feel his hot breath on my neck like a furnace.
“This sure is a neat car eh!” he said, all excited. “This sure is a neat car eh,” I repeated, rolling my eyes skyward. “Do you mind? What did you have for breakfast—a bowl of garlic?” Harold either didn’t get what I was saying or he did and chose to ignore my comment, turning his undivided attention to Beth, bad breath and all. I felt nauseous.
“Thank you Harold. It’s a belated birthday gift from my parents,” she said, smiling sweetly at him all the while flattening me with a look that could kill. I got the point. My moment of glory had passed. I might as well have been riding in the trunk. I would have had better luck as a hood ornament.
“Wow! Some birthday gift eh. I usually get things like clothes and stuff. I got a transistor radio last year. That was pretty cool. But this! A car! Wow! Your parents must be rich eh.”
“Shut up Korkala! I screeched. “You are such a jerk. What a stupid thing to say.”
Beth didn’t seem to share my opinion of Harold at all. I couldn’t believe she actually found him amusing. There she was smiling away, looking straight into his eyes, hanging onto his every word like he was as brilliant as Leonard Cohen instead of some scrawny freak from the neighborhood. I think she was actually flirting with him.
“Jo-Jo, cool it,” she said, glancing quickly into the rear view mirror as she changed lanes and pushed her foot a little harder on the accelerator. “What’s your problem? Harold and I are trying to have a little conversation here.”
That was it. The end. I could tell this was going to be the Harold and Beth show from here on out. Exit Jo. Fade to black. “Jo-Jo and I just met recently but we’re already the best of friends,” she said, reaching over and touching my arm briefly, just long enough to cool my anger with her warm hand, then returned it to the bottom of the steering wheel. She had this lazy way of steering the car with both her hands kind of resting on her thighs and barely touching the steering wheel.
“The best of friends,” I repeated just to make sure that Harold understood exactly who was in the seat next to the driver, “Beth’s that new girl I told you about.”
“Oh yeah? You moved into poor old man Luoto’s place eh. I thought his son or something was moving back in there. Everybody said his big wheel son from the States fixed the place up. But nobody knew for sure. Just local gossip is all. I mean why would a rich guy like that want to move into a neighborhood like this?” “Good God, Korkala. Will you shut your trap! Beth is poor old Mr. Luoto’s granddaughter. I told you about her. Remember?” “Ah jeez. I forgot. The movie star.” He exhaled, sinking back into the seat and removing his glasses. He was rubbing his eyes and for a moment I thought he was going to cry or do something else real stupid but it was just the wind irritating them and making them water. Harold had very sensitive eyes. “I’m real sorry Beth. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. I was just shooting my big mouth off. I’m always saying stupid things, aren’t I Jo?”
“You got that right. Open mouth, insert foot.”
“Yeah. I’m always putting my foot in it,” Harold agreed, putting his glasses back on, adjusting them behind his ears and with his index finger he pushed them into the bridge of his nose like he was pressing a button on an elevator.
“That’s okay Hank. I admire honesty in a man,” she said, batting her eyes at him like he was some rock star, someone worth flirting with. But Harold? Was she blind? She called him Hank. “You don’t mind being called Hank do you?” She did it again—flirted shamelessly, played him like a violin and Harold or Hank was only all too happy to be the man. I wanted to be sick.
“Not at all Beth,” he swooned as he sat back and crossed his arms across his chest, his newfound sense of masculinity and sexual power exuding from every pore of his pimply face. It was pathetic.
“Movie star huh,” she laughed, pulling the babushka off her head in this dramatic Isadora Duncan move, tossing it carelessly to the wind and setting her blonde hair free. “Maybe this won’t be such a bad place to live after all. Could use a little shaking up though. Know what I mean?”
“Yahoo!” I shouted as she picked up speed and flew down Arthur Street and right into the heart of downtown. Right in the middle of all the action, such as it was in a town with not much going on. “Right on! Let’s shake this place up!”
Beth turned the radio up full blast as we sang Help Me Rhonda along with the Beach Boys. She had a glorious voice and I had to admit so did Harold; I sang off key but they didn’t seem to notice or care.
We laughed and waved to everyone we saw, not at anyone in particular, just anyone passing by. Some waved back as though they thought they might have known us but weren’t sure.
“Canadians are so polite,” Beth shouted over the music, which sent us into another round of convulsive laughter.
There was something about that car and being with Beth that gave Harold and I courage and a boldness that we ordinarily did not possess. It gave us the confidence to call out to strangers, to throw kisses to good-looking guys with blonde hair and perfect tans and beautiful girls with their Colgate smiles and legs that would not quit. It was intoxicating.
After we made the tour of the city, Beth suggested we head back to her house to listen to music. “I just picked up Bob Dylan’s new L.P. Nashville Skyline. It is the grooviest. You have to hear it Hank. You’ll love it.”
“Wow! Bob Dylan. Has it got Lay Lady Lay?” He asked moving closer to the front so I could feel his breath on my cheek as he broke into song.
Beth and I joined in, stumbling over the words, making up verses as we went along. It was late in the afternoon when we pulled into the Luoto driveway.
Inside Beth’s house, it was cool and perfect just like the homes in the women’s magazines my mother read faithfully. The air conditioner was blasting frigid air bringing momentary relief from the stifling heat. Her parents were out and aside from the soft hum of the air conditioner the place was silent. It was odd being there. In all the years Mr. Luoto lived across the street I hadn’t once stepped foot in his yard let alone the house. It didn’t actually have a “no trespassing” sign on the front lawn but it might as well have for all the people that ever went there. I think even the mailman avoided the place. I felt like an intruder. It reeked of money and everything it buys, from the white chaise lounge in the living room to the white plush carpets and art-lined walls. Harold and I gazed wideeyed around the room. For once we were both speechless. “I call it the White House,” Beth said as she flopped on the chaise lounge. “Isn’t it just awful! My mother’s going through some weird decorating phase. You should have seen our place in Minneapolis. She went through a blue period and then there was the antique thing. It’s her hobby decorating and redecorating. She gets bored easily. But this is the worst!”
“Gee Beth, I think it looks great!” Harold gushed, shuffling self-consciously from one foot to the other. It was like he suddenly figured out that he was in way over his head, drowning in a giant marshmallow carpet. Under any other circumstances he would never be in a room like this, especially with a beautiful girl who called him Hank. He knew it. I knew it. Funny thing was Beth didn’t seem to notice.
“Sit down you two. Make yourselves comfortable if you can.” Silently, and in one robotic movement, Harold and I both slid to the floor where we crossed our legs and sat waiting for further instructions from Beth. The mood of the afternoon vanished. I could hear Harold breathing nervously.
“How about a Coke?” Beth asked cheerfully, as she bounced off the lounge and sprang to the kitchen. Before I could answer, Harold was up and by Beth’s side opening bottles of Coke and pouring pop into tall green glasses Beth was filling with ice—like he did this every day. Then he said something stupid to Beth that I couldn’t quite hear and she whispered something back and they both started to laugh. I was stunned. Harold came back into the living room and handed me a Coke but instead of sitting on the floor next to me he sat on the chaise lounge with Beth. She stretched out her long slender body on the lounge with her head on the curved armrest and her bare feet on his lap. Harold began to massage her toes. I had just taken a sip of my drink when I began to choke; maybe it was the sight of them together like that, so intimate and close, that caused it. Coke squirted violently from my mouth and nose spraying the dark brown liquid all over the pristine white rug. Beth and Harold both jumped off the sofa and began pounding me on the back.
“I’m okay,” I cried. “Jeez I’m real sorry Beth. I got Coke all over your mother’s new rug!” I burst into tears, as I wiped frantically at the rug with the bottom of my tee shirt.
“Don’t sweat it Jo-Jo. The rug isn’t a spill virgin anyway. Sam’s already had a couple of accidents on it.” Instead of being angry, she put her arms around me and gave me a hug. She patted my head as I sobbed into her blouse. She smelled citrine and fresh like she had been eating oranges all her life. Harold began patting me on the back like I was a baby in need of a good burp, a gesture that was somehow fitting I guess, crying the way I was.
“Sammy!” Beth called as she handed me a Kleenex from her pocket and began slapping the tops of her thighs. I took it and blew my nose while Harold lifted a piece of wet hair that was stuck to my cheek and pulled it behind my ear. “Come here old girl. That’s a good girl. Come meet Jo-Jo and Hank.”
“A dog!” cried Harold like he’d never seen one before in his entire life. “Hey Sammy. Howsit goin’ girl?” he said, as he rubbed the geriatric yellow fur ball behind the ears. Sammy was jumping clumsily all over him slurping at his face so furiously it looked like he was about to swallow his head. Beth was laughing so hard I thought she was going to hyperventilate. She jumped on Sammy and Harold and the three of them were this blurry mass of fur and flesh rolling around the white carpet like giant tumbleweed. I sat watching them thinking that this was just one more thing that didn’t make sense. Why were Harold and Beth so natural together, so connected? Even her dog liked him. It was crazy. I tried to see him through her eyes but all I could see was the same old creepy Harold that I knew since the day I was born. It made me sick. I got up and left.