16 June 1991 - West Ware Road, Enfield, Massachusetts
A few weeks of driving around didn’t do me any good, Jeff thought while he ran back to his parents’ house.
He’d run up to Enfield Village this morning, a round-trip of about five miles. This was a normal run for him but the last mile was proving to be tougher than expected. There’s no reason to slack off just because you’re not a soldier any more, Airborne. Now, suck it up. The world was still asleep though the sun was already over the horizon at quarter to six. There certainly weren’t multiple groups calling cadence while they ran around Enfield; the silence was abnormal. Walking back into his parents’ house also felt unusual to him. It was no longer “his house.”
Jeff took a quick shower before heading to the kitchen. He started the coffee maker once there, then began mixing waffle batter. Two pounds of locally-made bacon went into the oven to bake; the bacon wouldn’t curl and, since it was a self-cleaning oven, he didn’t have to worry about the spatter. A cantaloupe was next to be sacrificed to the gods of breakfast.
“Can you move to Boston so I can get this kind of service every morning?” Kara asked when she entered. She poured herself a mug of coffee, mixing in an unholy amount of sugar and cream.
“You want any coffee with that?”
“Watch it, buster. I’ll bite your kneecaps.” Kara put her coffee mug down to give her big brother a hug. She’d enjoyed the relationship they’d built in high school before he graduated; she’d missed that the last four years. She knew that they’d never recapture that kind of closeness now that they were both adults, but she still wanted a good relationship with him.
“Well, doesn’t this warm my heart.” Marisa was smiling at her two children from the doorway.
“Morning, Mom,” they said in stereo.
“What’s on the menu?”
“Waffles, bacon, cantaloupe, juice, coffee,” Jeff announced.
“I’m going to miss this when you move out again, Jeff,” Marisa sighed. Jeff raised an eyebrow. “What? You were in the Army for four years, Jeff. Wounded in Panama. Lost your best friend in the Iraqi desert. You’re still my Little Boy, but you’re not a little boy any longer. You won’t be here forever.”
Jeff smiled sadly at his mother. “You’re right, Mom. On my run I saw that Bilzarian’s looking for help again. Physical labor was good for me in high school, it should be good for me again; I might even be able to get out onto the floor helping the customers now.”
“You should go by anyway.”
“Why?”
“They lost Mr. Bilzarian, Senior, a month ago.”
Jeff closed his eyes. Another death. “I’ll go by right after breakfast. I’m also going to go over to Swerve and ask about EMT classes.”
“‘EMT classes?’ What brought this on?”
“That accident in Ohio. I ran into one of the firefighters who responded the morning I left. He said I have a future in that line of work, that I have good skills. Plus, I helped a little boy and his mom that day; that felt pretty good. I don’t have anything else lined up, so I might as well check that out.”
“I can see you doing that,” Kara commented.
Jeff walked into Bilzarian’s Hardware for the first time since high school. Displays were in different spots, different products were being advertised, but the mix of faint chemical smells was the same. He smiled at the memories. He’d enjoyed working here.
“Can I help you, sir?” a young man asked him.
Jeff read the boy’s name tag. He blinked in surprise. “Charlie? Charlie Bilzarian?“
“Yes, sir?”
“Holy cow! Charlie, it’s Jeff Knox! When did you grow up? You were nine just yesterday!”
“Hi, Mr. Knox. Yeah, Mom and Dad say the same thing,” Charlie laughed. “I’ll be a senior in high school in the fall.”
“A senior? Aw, geez. And what’s this ‘Mr. Knox’ nonsense? Do I look like my Dad, Charlie? You used to call me ‘Jeff.’” They shared a chuckle. “I just got home yesterday, Charlie. I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.”
Charlie’s face grew somber. “Thanks, Jeff. I know he was eighty-five, but ... he was Granddad, you know?”
“I do. Time gets all of us eventually. Is your Dad here today?”
“He’s upstairs, trying to clean out Granddad’s apartment.” The Bilzarian family lived above the store for decades. Mr. B., Junior, moved out when he went to college. Mr. B., Senior, lived alone in the apartment after Mrs. Bilzarian died in 1979.
“Okay if I go up to see him?”
“He’d appreciate seeing you. Every summer I hear him mutter ‘none of the high school kids I’ve hired have been worth a damn since Jeff Knox.’”
“Present company excluded, of course.”
“Yeah, right! The standards are twice as high for me as the third generation Bilzarian in the store. I don’t mind, though, since I want to be in the business like Dad and Granddad. How can I lower the boom on someone some day if I don’t measure up to begin with?”
“Good attitude, Charlie. That’ll serve you well down the road. Don’t be too hard on yourself, though.”
Charlie nodded. “Come on through the back. You can use the back stairs by the loading dock.” Charlie led him through the stock area. The current crop of summer help stared at the man Charlie was escorting. “Go on up. Good to see you again, Jeff.”
“You too, Charlie.” Jeff took the stairs two at a time.
“Charlie?” Mr. B’s voice called from inside the apartment when Jeff entered the kitchen from the back deck. “Is that you?”
“Not quite, Mr. B. Where do you want me to drop the ten pallets of manure?”
Steve Bilzarian looked down the back hall with surprise on his face. “Jeff Knox? How the hell are you?”
Jeff shook hands with his first boss. “Better now that I’m home, sir. Mom told me about your dad this morning, sir. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, Jeff. Have a seat.” The two men sat at the kitchen table. “To be honest, I’m surprised Dad lived this long; I thought for sure he’d follow right after Mom, but he hung in there. I’m glad Charlie got the chance to know him.”
“I’m glad I got the chance too, sir. I know he helped a lot of people out around here over the years.”
Steve nodded. “He gave a bunch of us our starts, that’s for certain. He left a big hole.” The two sat in silence for a moment. “So, how long are you home for?”
“For good, sir. I’m out of the Army.”
“You’re out? I figured you for a lifer. And call me ‘Steve.’ Anyone who’s been shot at for our country is old enough to call me ‘Steve.’”
“Thanks, Steve. I was probably headed towards my twenty at least, but my best friend was killed in the Gulf, and that future died with him. What I want has changed.”
“What do you want now, Jeff?”
“Someone to come home to every night. A wife. Kids. The same things I wanted before Ken was killed, but with more conditions.”
“Like, not getting shot at?”
“That would be a good start.”
“What’s next for you then?”
“Studying to be an EMT. Finding a place to live. Asking you for a job.”
“You want to work here again?”
“I loved working here in high school, Steve. Where else can you get paid for working out? Those fifty- and hundred-pound bags don’t move themselves. I could ride herd on the kids you have working here, too. Be the designated asshole?”
“Take the heat off me, in a sense?”
“Sure.”
“I could only offer you five fifty an hour, maybe five seventy-five max.”
“Forty hours?”
“Yep.” Steve looked around. A light bulb went off in his head. “How about this? Five twenty-five and you live here, above the store?”
“At what rent, Steve?”
“None.”
Jeff was shocked. The apartment was huge. “None?”
“None,” Steve confirmed. “You get this place cleaned up, work for me, go to school, and I get a little extra security knowing there’s someone I trust upstairs here. Heat and hot water are generated for the store anyway; electric would be on you, though. I’ve been up here almost two hours and haven’t accomplished anything. There are too many memories in this apartment for me to work efficiently. You’d be doing Carol and I a huge favor. “ Carol was Steve’s wife.
“I might get kinda busy, going to EMT school and all. I don’t know what’s involved yet, or what else I’ll get involved with now that I’m home. What about when I pass my EMT class and want to start working as one somewhere?”
“We figure that out down the road. The rent will still be better than anywhere else around. What do you say?”
“Can I get my cleaning and paint supplies from the store?”
“Right off the stockroom shelves. Just tell me what you take so I can keep track of inventory. You’ll have a key to the store and the alarm code. Depending on when your classes are, I might ask you to either open or close.”
“When can I start?”
Jeff stayed the week at his parents’ place before moving to Bilzarian’s. Marisa was sad to see him leave, but was glad that he’d be close. He slept on a camping pad while he cleaned up the apartment since he’d already disposed of the mattresses there. The Bilzarians left on a long summer vacation the week he moved in and left Mike Huntley, the assistant store manager, in charge. One of the high school kids tried to act all important when Jeff gathered more cleaning supplies that first weekend.
“You can’t just come in here and take that!”
“I have authorization,” Jeff commented, not even turning around. He continued placing supplies in a box.
“Not from me, you don’t!”
Jeff turned and gave him a stare. “Listen up, Genius. You don’t matter to me. You ain’t even on my radar. Do you have the phrases ‘Panama’ and ‘the Persian Gulf’ stored in your brain housing group anywhere?” The kid looked confused. “That’s your skull, Genius. You know why those two places are significant?” The kid nodded. “You may have learned about them in history class, but I know about them because I was there. While you were popping zits onto the bathroom mirror I was in both of those places watching friends die. I answer to one person here and that person ain’t you. Do you read me, Genius?” The kid nodded furiously. Jeff returned to the apartment with his cleaning supplies.
Jeff restored the apartment to its former glory with a week’s hard work; he worked twelve hours a day minimum. The senior Bilzarian was a smoker throughout the years he’d lived in the space; copious amounts of elbow grease, along with a helpful cleaner/degreaser, removed the years of tobacco smoke residue from the ceilings, walls and woodwork. Fresh paint and lemon oil finished the job. Jeff even did all of the minor repairs which went untouched as Mr. Bilzarian, Senior, grew older. He now lived free of charge in two thousand square feet of pristine apartment that should be commanding hundreds in rent.
Jeff decided to check out a store he’d discovered down the street the day after he finished the apartment. The store, named ‘The Haberdashery, ‘ was just that, a men’s clothing store. Jeff was greeted by one of the owners who soon had him in front of mirrors checking out new suits. Jeff bought three, plus various items to make many more outfits. He promised to return for other items in the future.
When he stepped out of the dressing room for the final time he spotted a familiar figure. That person was checking out a display of silk ties. A younger man stepped up to the person and made a comment; the person turned their back in response. The man stomped away past Jeff muttering, “Frigid bitch.” Jeff smirked and walked quietly over to the person.
Disguising his voice he said, “You know, if you get three more of those we can test their strength in my bedroom.” The person stiffened and turned. There was a furious look on her face as she did. The look changed to surprise mixed with joy as she recognized him.
“JEFF!“ Allison cried, hugging him tightly. Her hugs felt as good as ever; her kisses were still awesome, too. “How do you keep surprising me like that? And how long are you home for this time?”
“I’m home for good, Allison. I’m out of the Army.”
“You’re out? Why? What happened?”
“Are you busy? Come over to my apartment with me, I’ll make you lunch and tell you all about it.”
“Your apartment? How long have you been home?”
“Two weeks, but I spent a week cleaning the apartment after I moved in. Today’s the first day I’ve been able to venture out since I finished.”
“How come?”
“That’s part of the story. Come on, pretty lady.” Jeff could see the other man in a mirror while he left with Allison on his arm; the man’s mouth was hanging open in shock. The two friends walked arm-in-arm the two hundred fifty feet to Bilzarian’s. Jeff unlocked the private front entrance and gestured for Allison to precede him up the stairs. He knew she trusted him, but she still had a question on her face when she entered the stairwell. He unlocked the upstairs door to the apartment and opened it for her also.
Now it was Allison’s turn to have her jaw hanging open in shock. White painted walls and gleaming urethaned woodwork greeted her, making the already spacious apartment feel huge. Mr. Bilzarian’s furniture was gone, too smoke-saturated to keep, which only added to the feeling. He gave her the nickel tour, winding up at the same kitchen table he’d shared with Steve two weeks earlier.
“Jeff, this place is amazing! You did a great job and you’re right in the center of town! How high is the rent?”
“I’m not paying rent, Allison.”
“What? You’re not?”
“I’ll be working for Steve while I take my EMT class across the street at Swerve this fall; the free rent is part of that. My hourly rate is a little lower because of it, but I’m getting heat and hot water included, too.”
“Where did the EMT thing come from?” Jeff told her about the accident in Ohio. “Why were you out there?”
“I was coming home from Spokane.”
“‘Spokane?’ Isn’t Ken from Spokane?”
“He was, Allison, yes.”
“‘Was?’” Her eyes filled with tears as she covered her mouth and shook her head. “No!”
Jeff nodded sadly. “On the last day of the ground war in Iraq, February twenty-eighth. I found out on his birthday; that was ‘Beware the Ides of March’ writ large.”
Allison began to cry. She threw herself at Jeff, sobbing. He comforted her the best he could. “You went there to pay your respects, didn’t you?” she asked after sitting back in her own chair.
Jeff nodded. “There’s more to the story, Allison. After you guys came down for spring break, Ken’s family came to visit, before Panama. His parents and his little sister, Keiko.”
“His family? Were they nice? Did you get along with them alright?”
“I’m fluent in Japanese now, Allison; that helped but, yes, they’re great people. I also fell in love with Keiko on the spot. When Ken left our unit he said he was proud to call me a brother-in-arms. He also said he’d be prouder to call me his brother-in-law one day.”
“You fell in love with her?”
“Yes, Allison. We’ll be together at some point after she graduates from UVA in ‘94.”
“Are you engaged, then?”
“No. We’re not even dating.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure I do either. But I know we’ll be together in the future.”
“What does that mean, then?”
“She told me to ‘Live, Jeffrey. Live. Don’t deny yourself love when it presents itself to you, ‘ when we parted for the first time. She also told me ‘there is an old saying: if you can’t be with the girl you love, love the girl you’re near.’ For us it means what we want it to mean. I love you, Allison; I have since ‘87. I know what I want. Right here, right now, I want to be with you. The question becomes what do you want, Allison?”
Allison considered the question in silence for almost five minutes. “Every time I see you, Jeff, I want more of what we had in ‘87 and ‘88. I leave for Austin and the University of Texas at the end of August. I want those two months, Jeff. No holds barred. It’s going to be our last chance to be together as a couple.”
“One caveat, Allison: if this threatens our friendship at all, at any point, it ends. Your friendship is and always has been more important to me than anything else.”
She sat on his lap and draped her arms around his neck. “Let’s get friendly.”
Jeff escorted Allison into the Enfield Grand Hotel two nights later. She wore a simple but quite flattering black dress and heels. He wore his new charcoal gray suit with a white shirt and an 82nd Airborne Division tie; the enamel ribbon bar representing his Silver Star adorned his lapel. Thompkins School was hosting a young alumni event at the hotel that night. The Classes of 1981 to 1991 were considered the “young alumni.”
“Well, at least the name tags don’t clash with my tie...” Jeff commented. They both wore ubiquitous “Hello my name is...” name tags with their names and year of graduation.
Allison shook her head; some things never change. “It looks like there’s a good turnout,” she said as they found a seat.
“Yeah, they certainly lucked out, alright. Would you like anything to drink?”
“A dry Martini?”
Jeff nodded, and moved to the bar. He saw a face there he hadn’t seen since he left for Basic Training. “Jesus H. Christ. Is it possible for you to get any uglier?”
The man he spoke to turned. “Looking at you I’d say yes, it is possible. Good to see you, Jeff.”
The two friends embraced. “You too, Jack. How did things go for you at Johns Hopkins?”
“Magna cum laude,” Jack Jarrett replied. “I’ll be starting medical school there in the fall. How’s Kara and your mom and dad?”
“All doing just fine, thanks. Mom’s still at Thompkins, Dad’s still a ‘grease monkey’ to use his own words. Kara will finish MassArt with a degree in Graphic Arts next year.” Jeff paused the conversation to give the bartender his drink order. “How’s that no-account brother of yours?”
“Tom? He’s fine. Slaving away in the trenches of high finance down in New York City. He says he likes it; all those numbers make my head hurt. Me? Give me some nasty medical problem any day. What about you? You still working on that history degree?”
“Nope.”
“What? Why not?”
“I finished it, Jack. A Bachelor of Arts in History from American Military University now adorns the wall of my apartment, thank you very much.”
“Nice! How’s the Army treating you?”
Jeff made a face. “I’m out, Jack. I finished up after Memorial Day.”
“How come?”
“Come on back to our table, and I tell you the whole sad, sordid story.”
“‘Our?’ Who are you here with?”
“All shall be revealed. Come on.” As they made their way to Jeff’s table he noted something was missing with his friend. “Wait a minute! You’re walking without a limp!”
“Yeah, I had surgery about two years ago to lengthen my femur and that solved the whole problem. I’m even running a couple of miles a day now.”
“That’s awesome!”
“Wow! Who’s that gorgeous blonde over there?”
Jeff didn’t answer. They reached the table and he kissed the blonde when she looked up. “Hey, I found this wastrel haunting the bar and offered him a seat. Is that okay?”
“Jack!” Allison cried. She sprang up to hug the startled man.
“Allison? Allison Newbury? My God you look terrific! You guys are still together?”
“Well, more like ‘together again, ‘ Jack. We seem to find each other whenever Jeff decides to come home. I’m off to the University of Texas in the fall for my Masters in Applied Physics, though. Are you starting medical school soon?”
Jack filled her in on his medical school plans and his medical improvement. Jeff gave Jack the rundown on why he left the Army. “What are you doing with the history degree, Jeff? Are you going to teach or anything like that?”
“I’m starting EMT class at Swerve in the fall, believe it or not. I might get my Masters some day.”
“That’s great!” Jack did a double take. “Hey, look over at the door. Another one of your ladies just entered.”
Jeff looked. A smile crossed his face. “Do you mind if I ask them to join us, Allison?”
“Of course not. Go say hi.”
Jeff excused himself and approached the couple he’d seen. “Mrs. McGahn, I presume?”
“JEFF!” Pauline exclaimed. She glowed with her early pregnancy. She gave him a long hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Frank, you remember Jeff, right?”
“Of course! How are you, Jeff?” Frank McGahn asked as they shook hands.
“I’m doing well, Frank, thanks very much. We’ve still got room at our table if you guys would like to join us?”
“Who are you sitting with, Jeff?” Pauline asked as they returned to the table.
“Allison Newbury and Jack Jarrett.”
The mini-reunion at the table was a boisterous one. Pauline introduced her husband to everyone. Jeff explained his last four years in the Army and why he left again for the newcomers. Allison and Jack did the same for their future schooling.
“Jeff, this situation with Keiko is a little unusual,” Pauline commented to him so only he could hear.
“I agree, Pauline. I have to trust that she’s being honest with her feelings on the whole situation, though. I’m a little nervous that I’ll hurt her with any relationship I have between now and whenever, but she’s the one who told me not to sit on my butt waiting for her. I don’t want Allison hurt either, which is why I told her up front what was going on. In another time and another place, I could picture she and I being together long-term. I love her, but she’s destined for another man and another future.”
Pauline smiled at him. “Still the big caring galoot from high school, aren’t you?”
“I guess so,” he shrugged. “As I said to someone once, I’m gonna grab life by the throat and wring its neck for all I can squeeze out of it. I want to see how much we can squeeze out of the two months we have before she leaves for graduate school.”
“You sent him what? Hahahaha!” Allison laughed from across the table.
Pauline raised an eyebrow.
“This degenerate must have told Allison what he put in the care package he sent me while I was in the Gulf,” Jeff explained while he hooked a thumb at Jack.
Pauline made a “well, give me the punchline!” motion with her hands.
“He sent me a beach towel, a bottle of suntan oil and a Speedo.” Frank and Pauline started laughing as well. “Go ahead and laugh, you two. The joke was on Jack when I sent him something in return.”
“What was that, Jeff?” asked Frank.
“Oh, geez,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Talk about things you can’t unsee.”
“When we returned home, I sent him a picture of me wearing that Speedo while lying on the towel in the middle of the desert, surrounded by my squad in full chemical protection gear and holding their rifles. I was all oiled up and glistening, too.”
“Serves you right, Jack,” Pauline laughed. “Have you forgotten that when you mess with the bull you may just get the horns?”
