Max was
awakened by a call from Adrienne.
After
hello’s, Adrienne began, “My mother’s here with Alesandro. She wants to talk to
you about something.”
Not wanting
to sound too eager, he asked, “Sure, but the restraining order?”
“Never mind
that, Max. I want to see you.”
“Your
mother came all the way from Biarritz to see me?”
“Yes, to see you.”
He’d been
curious about Alesandro and wanted to meet him too. Because her mother was
there, the obsession returned, and his imagination ran wild. He pictured
himself at an altar putting a cheap ring on Adrienne's finger with the blessing
of her fantastic family. Now that he’d let go, perhaps his prayers were being
answered.
“When do
you want me to come by? I’m off for a few hours.”
He parked
the bike on the street and buzzed the gate. Adrienne greeted him warmly with an
affectionate embrace while Alesandro, and a dignified woman in
her eighties awaited him at the dining table. Alesandro stood, and, when Max
awkwardly reached out to shake hands, Alesandro held out his left and nodded;
his right arm immobile. The atmosphere was thick to Max. Adrienne sat next to
her mother. It had the feel of a business matter... like being called on the
carpet with witnesses.
“I’m
honored,” Max had to restrain himself from saluting, “Adrienne has told me
about you.”
Alesandro
spoke, barely acknowledging Max, “This is Mme Fournier. Please sit with us a
minute.”
“Oh,
please, Alesandro, this is my mother Johanna.”
Max sat
across the table from Johanna and Adrienne. He was unable to make small talk as
they sat at the table silently for several minutes as she appraised him. She
opened tersely, “We know Nick is the one who assaulted Adrienne. It is clear to
us that he is an animal.”
She paused,
eyes searching Max’s face for a response.
He had
nothing to add as he felt the same about Nick. What came next was unexpected
and drove a nail deep in his heart.
“You will
stay away from Adrienne. She has enough problems. You may not be as crude as
Nick, but you are no saint.”
“But Max is
my only friend,” Adrienne protested.
“If he is
your friend, he will respect our wishes,” she put a hand on Adrienne’s
shoulder.
“But
mother, he isn’t the problem. He’s the only friend I have that is clean and
sober.”
“Clean and
sober?” Johanna scanned Max’s face and continued, “Sure. Maybe. But how long
will he be. A month... a year... How long? Do you know? Does he know? How many
times have you lied to us about your own sobriety?”
Max decided
not to defend himself because of the AA phrase, we cease fighting anything...
or anyone... something like that. Even though he had Adrienne on his side he
saw the truth in what her mother was telling him.
“I have
other business to attend to and can’t stay here to watch Adrienne. She has
agreed that Alesandro is going to be living here. At any rate, we don’t have a
restraining order on you at this time but, if I hear you have put one foot in
this door again, I will.”
“Damn it!
Alesandro is not my prison guard,” Adrienne pushed her chair back, a steady
stream of tears began down the contour of her cheeks. She was ready to bolt
from the room but stopped, realizing she had nowhere to go.
Alesandro
handed her a tissue from the box that was already on the table, evidence of an
already tearful morning. She sat back down.
“What about
Nick?” Max asked. Nick’s absence at the table was conspicuous, the elephant in
the room, and Max thought that he ought to have been there. “Is he also
banished?”
Adrienne
cried, “If that fucker comes around here, I will be the one to kill him!”
Max did as
he always did when he was upset, he went to the Amtrak and bought a ticket.
This time it was a short round-trip ride to and from San Lois Obispo. Train and
Greyhound rides helped him to console the smothering lead weight in his chest
of the smothering blues and, if the train was on time, he could catch a meeting
at the Alano Club upon returning. He sat by a window with the ocean view on the
way there, had lunch in SLO, and returned on the mountain side of the coach for
the ride back. Whatever troubles he had were out of his mind by the time he got
back. Max felt that any ride out of town was a better remedy than a shot of
Jack or going out of his mind with grief and anger.
He was early
back in Santa Barbara at the Alano Club and took his usual seat on the bench
against the wall. It is called the Shoe Bench by some old timers. The Shoe
Bench was called that for all the sneakers, loafers, and slippers that hang
there. He liked it there because he could see everyone coming or going and no
one could sit behind him. One of his favorite young women, Teresa, a scrawny
hippy-freak type redhead, sat next to him. He liked her but suspected she was
gay. Besides, she was way too young for him.... or rather, he was too old for
her. Jimbo was one of the people she was friendly with and Max liked having an
innocent connection like that.
After the
usual “Hello” and “How have you been doing?” greetings, she suggested, “We
should go for coffee at RoCo after the meeting.”
“I’d like
that very much,” Max leapt at the opportunity to get to know this woman. She
was an oddball with unshaved armpits, unkempt and wild red hair that exploded
over and around her face and matching bright green eyes. She usually wore
man-beater tank tops and sweats covered by a hoody, but Max had seen her after
she got off work in black slacks and a white dress shirt.
Max loved
anyone, especially young women, whose lives had already taken them off the
beaten track. Most of the newcomer young women were hell bent to find a man. It
was as though their identity was immersed in owning a partner of substance.
They’d previously hooked up with some real losers, abusers, or otherwise
cosigners of their bullshit in their drinking and drugging years and one way or
another, within the first few months of sobriety (in AA, NA, CA or any other
A). These would hook up with the sober, or not so sober, version of the
disease. These had joined a social club in AA. But the rare ones like Teresa
were committed to centering on the spiritual core of the Fellowship.
The RoCo
was near empty but they sat outside. Curious about her interests, Max asked the
usual questions.
She
answered his queries with pride, “I’m a computer geek, it could be said.”
“Okay, I
like that. I’m kinda new at it. A computer’s not much more than a word
processor to me.”
“You’re a
writer?”
Max was
normally shy about talking about his passion, but there was something about how
Teresa’s pride evoked the same spirit, so he was eager to share it with her,
“Yes, how did you guess?”
“You seem
to me to have a demon inside that needs to be let loose,” she observed.
“Really, is
that a bad thing?”
“No, not
for you. But I have something else I wanted to talk about. I’m an intern at the
PD. I heard about the bullshit at the Baker house... more than rumors.”
“So much
for confidentiality.”
“Yes, I
know. There are no secrets there except the ones they want to keep. I have a
friend that works close with Detective Ryan. Ryan isn’t a bad cop, but he has
secrets and so does Dan Richards.”
“Thanks,
but why are you telling me this?”
“Ryan can
be good. You can actually trust him. He fills me in sometimes. Like he needs
someone to know his shit. Believe it or not, he respects you.” She stopped
abruptly before Max could ask any more questions.
Officer
Richards had just entered the doors with another officer. That wasn’t unusual
and didn’t alarm Max because the RoCo was a stop for nearly every cop or
construction worker in town. What did cause him to pay attention was the way
Teresa reacted to their presence.
“In case
you have more trouble, here’s my card,” she rose from her seat leaving her
coffee cup three quarters full, “I have your number. I’ve gotta go.”
She passed
Richards on the way out. Max watched Richards leer at her and make a comment to
the other officer while patting his arm pits. The officer guffawed.
Max got up
and left while they were still in line at the counter. Nudging the other
officer, Richards turned to face Max as he passed, “You have a hot date there
Mr. McGee?”
Max ached
to respond but couldn’t put in words the disgust he felt for Richards, so he
proceeded to the door.
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