Fit to Die (16 page)

“Don’t worry.” James put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “You give me your address and I’ll have the bookmobile swing by your place twice a month. That way you can check out new books all the time.”

Becky threw her arms around James. “Oh, thank you, mister! This is the best day of my life!”

“And everyone in your family gets free lunch from Dolly’s Diner today. And you can all pick out a cookie from the Sweet Tooth. Just tell the ladies working the booths that you won the pig races and Professor Henry is going to cover the cost.”

The announcement earned him hugs from the entire group of children. By the time they were done, even Chester was brought over and shoved into James’s startled arms. He then left them to their admirers and, smelling a bit like the barnyard, headed over to the food vendor area to fetch some lunch.

After loading up on two corn dogs, small fries, and some raspberry lemonade, James made his way to the judges’ table in order to be prepared to deliver the check to the winner of the Ladies’ Hat Contest. As the women paraded slowly in front of the judges, Mrs. Waxman made notes on a piece of paper and conferred importantly with her fellow judges.

More than fifty women had created hats with literary themes. James watched as each contestant passed the judging area and then returned to her place in back of a long line. He spotted Murphy right away, for her wide, flat hat sported a red wooden barn stuffed with livestock and the title, Animal Farm. Right behind her was the organist from James’s church who had designed a To Kill a Mockingbird hat. This was a simple straw affair bearing a mockingbird who had been stabbed through the side using a toy knife. Other hats that caught his eye included an Of Mice and Men bowler on which the creator had sewn Ken dolls and plush mice and the Lord of the Flies crown that had dozens of rubber flies encrusted about its rim and flying skyward with the aid of nearly invisible wires.

When the judges announced the winners, James found himself in complete agreement with their choices. A teenage girl who had designed her own A Tree Grows in Brooklyn chapeau earned the second runner-up position. She had used Lego buildings to create a New York City skyline and made a beautiful tree out of papier-mâché and tissue paper. The first runner-up was Witness to Fitness’s own Phoebe Liu. She had erected a boxing ring onto an old cowboy hat and instead of two human pugilists, had fashioned a pair of combative grapes out of plastic fruit. She added to her Grapes of Wrath theme by periodically ringing a small bell, as if a new round of fighting were about to erupt.

The grand prizewinner was Ms. Beasley, a mousy middle school science teacher. Her hat was based on Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and showed a two-dimensional feline walking across a piece of metal sheeting with buildings in the background. The minute windows of the town’s buildings lit up and every now and then, a hiss of steam would escape from beneath the piece of tin and the flat cat would literally jump up in the air and land on its feet again. Children were especially entranced with Ms. Beasley’s hat. They clustered around her immediately after James handed over the prize check. Ms. Beasley began to explain in excruciating detail how she used dry ice, battery components, and other scientific minutia until James found his attention wandering.

He gazed contentedly around the field, watching as families lined up at the food vendor booths or waited for their turn on one of the rides. He smiled as he walked by both children and adults trying their hardest to win plush toys in the games area. The sight of clusters of bright balloons, the scents of delicious food, and the sounds of bluegrass music being broadcast by the town’s only local radio station combined to fill James with a sense of giddiness that he hadn’t experienced for a long time. In fact, he hadn’t felt this way for many months and the last time was right after he had kissed Lucy Hanover.

As James stood reflecting on that kiss, he effectively blocked the path of a large group of teenage boys wearing baggy jeans and T-shirts bearing a variety of different offensive expressions. Suddenly, the boys veered off toward the picnic tables, where a pod of teenage girls wearing heavy makeup and short skirts giggled and nibbled on bites of cotton candy. In the space the boys once occupied, James caught a glimpse of Lucy as she strolled toward the carnival rides. It was as if his thoughts of her had conjured her into solid form and he knew that her appearance was more than simple coincidence. It was a sign to seize the moment.

Dunking his cup of soda into the nearest trash can, James hustled through the crowds, all the while trying to keep his focus on the sunlit halo of Lucy’s hair as she moved away from him. He caught up with her at the entrance to the Ferris wheel.

“Care to share a cab?” he asked breathlessly after taking her by the arm.

“I’d love to.” Lucy gazed up at the multi-colored wheel. “I’m totally into heights. How about you?”

James gulped. “No, not really, but I’d like to see how our blue hills look from up there.” He pointed at the car that had just reached the highest elevation. As they watched, the ride controller began the long process of releasing people from their cars and loading on new riders.

“We’re in violet—my favorite color,” Lucy announced, sitting down. The car rocked unsteadily for a moment and then lurched violently when James stepped in. There was barely enough room for their two wide bodies and the flesh of their legs and arms was pressed tightly together.

Lucy laughed. “Guess we need to lose more weight.”

“Aw, it’s cozy. I like it,” James replied and then fell silent until all of the riders had settled into cars and the wheel began to turn in its languid circle. As they rose above the field, a swollen sun was dipping toward the horizon and the sky was mottled with mango-hued clouds.

“It’s so beautiful!” Lucy exclaimed as they reached the pinnacle.

James gazed at her and had just opened his mouth to speak when their car came to an abrupt halt. It swung wildly forward and James felt his stomach flip-flop as he looked down to see his feet swaying to and fro over the small heads of oblivious townsfolk below.

Lucy offered James a look of pity. “It’s okay, James. This happens all the time on these things.”

James cleared his throat and sat up straight. “Actually, I hope we are stuck up here and for a good long time.”

“Really? Why?”

“Lucy.” James took his hand and placed it gently on her soft cheek, turning her face toward his own. “I’m so sorry we were interrupted that day at Dolly’s. I said I had important things to talk to you about and I allowed an insignificant, and unscheduled, meeting to get in the way of what I had to say to you.”

“I understand,” she answered tenderly, her blue eyes lit by the twinkling lights of the Ferris wheel. “But I’m still interested in what you wanted to tell me.”

James exhaled nervously. “I’m never so happy as when I’m with you, Lucy. I know I turned cold after that one time we … ah …”

“Kissed?” Lucy offered helpfully.

“Yes! You see, I was so afraid you’d end up finding me dull like my ex-wife did and then I’d get hurt again.” James felt that he was babbling and cringed, but couldn’t bring himself to stop. “So I pulled back, but I still feel something very strong for you and I’d like to try to make it … to make us work if you were still willing.”

Lucy’s smile was filled with delight. “I’m still willing, James.”

“But what about Carter?” James asked with concern. “I thought you were interested in him.”

Lucy chuckled. “I was just pretending to have a crush on him to get a reaction out of you. I was trying to figure out what was going on in your head.”

“A reaction, huh?” James faked a severe scowl. “How’s this for a reaction?” And he pulled Lucy’s lips onto his own.

The pair never noticed that the ride had started up again until their car reached the bottom and the controller began coughing loudly in order to attract their attention.

“Folks!” he finally shouted at them. “Let some other people see the sunset now. Come on! Out with you!”

James and Lucy separated themselves, their faces flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” James said sheepishly and then grabbed onto Lucy’s hand. “That’s a pretty romantic setting you’ve got up there, though.”

“I feel like celebrating,” Lucy said as they drifted happily away from the ride. “What should we do?”

“Megan’s probably got a fresh batch of fried Oreos waiting at her booth,” James answered, only partially in jest.

Lucy raised herself up on her tiptoes and gave James a peck on the cheek. “Deep-fried cookies, huh? That sounds absolutely perfect.”

James took a rare personal day off from work the Monday following the Spring Fling. Though exhausted, he woke in a state of dreamy happiness as he replayed the look on Lucy’s face Saturday night as it was lit by the winking, multi-colored lights of the Ferris wheel. Thinking about having her in his embrace gave him a feeling of invulnerability. As he stretched his arms wide and yawned, he had an overwhelming feeling that, suddenly, anything was possible. He could become the man he knew existed inside. His weight loss was progressing, he and his staff had organized a successful fundraiser for the library, and he had taken the first step toward having a good woman at his side to walk into the future with. Even his home was becoming transformed. When he heard the whining buzz of an electric drill coming from downstairs, James decided how he wanted to spend his unexpected holiday.

After showering, James phoned the Fitzgerald twins at home in order to alert them as to his absence and then suggested that they too should look over the schedule and rotate turns taking a personal day later on that week.

“No thanks, Professor.” Francis rejected the idea cheerfully. “We love our job and get plenty of time off. Besides, we’ve got to figure out how to rearrange the fiction section in order to accommodate our new Technology Corner. College finals are coming up, and those new computers will be in high demand.”

James was unsurprised that both of the twins refused to take a vacation day. They also shied away from the praise heaped upon them for all of their original ideas concerning the Spring Fling, just as they had done after winning the float contest in the fall.

“Without those pig races,” Mrs. Waxman had gushed over them Saturday evening while fluffing the wild hair on the tops of their heads as if they were a pair of cute toddlers, “this might have been just another country fair. Then you went ahead and added the hat contest and this was transformed to a county-wide competition.”

“If only you two were as clever about finding yourselves some girlfriends,” Dolly had murmured while serving them all fried chicken, corn pudding, and green beans cooked with bacon.

“We’re waiting for a set of twins who love Science Fiction, Dolly,” Scott had replied evenly, his mouth stuffed with one of Clint’s fluffy buttermilk biscuits. “We have to have our priorities.”

“And it would be great if they liked video games,” Francis had added.

“And Star Trek.”

“And the Discovery Channel.”

James laughed at how Dolly had shaken her head, perplexed as to how she could manage to find two young ladies in their early twenties who shared the passions held by the Fitzgerald brothers.

Thinking back on Dolly’s comment, James decided that since he knew of no available female twins whatsoever, the least he could do for the brothers after leaving them in charge of the library was to order them a few pizzas for lunch. The Fitzgerald boys were always hungry and James knew that their salaries rarely allowed them to splurge on takeout. He was quite sure they would rather spend their hard-earned money on the latest technical gizmos highlighted in Wired magazine.

Dressed in a worn pair of sweatpants and an ancient but beloved William & Mary Athletic Department T-shirt, James arrived downstairs to find Jackson holding a cup of coffee as he surveyed the dust-covered room formerly known as the kitchen. His toolbox was propped open on the floor and each metal item glinted in the morning sunlight. James didn’t know the names of the majority of the gadgets within his father’s red Craftsman box, but he knew he was seeing a set of tools that were lovingly cared for when he looked at his father’s array of wrenches, pliers, screwdrivers, and a multitude of other mysterious implements.

Jackson eyed his son’s attire with curiosity. “You havin’ them casual work days now at the library?”

“No, Pop,” James replied, stirring a liberal amount of fat-free half-and-half into his coffee. “I thought I’d take you up on your offer to learn to be a bit more handy. You’re working on the floor today, right?”

Jackson took a deep gulp of coffee as if he suddenly needed something to do as he pontificated over his son’s ability to successfully utilize a tool. Finally, he issued an amused nod and said, “Well then, let’s start with a little demolition. There’s nothin’ like rippin’ out some ole flooring to get your day goin’ on the right boot.” He paused and then patted his stomach. “You’d best swallow a real breakfast, though. Those bars you’ve been eatin’ aren’t workin’ man’s food.” He pointed at the box of multi-grain breakfast bars sitting on the dining room table. “Those clusters of nuts and fiber are meant for bushy-tailed rodents and that’s about all.”

“I’ll fry us some eggs,” James offered. “Since the stove is about all we have left hooked up in this kitchen.”

“With sausage and cheese?” Jackson asked, a hungry gleam in his eye.

James hesitated, silently calculating the Witness to Fitness points such a breakfast would cost. “Sure, Pop.” He shut off his mental calculator and went into the dining room to retrieve the frying pan from a haphazard pile of pots, pans, dishes, and cutlery.

Less than an hour later, James and Jackson were working side by side to remove the yellowed linoleum Jackson had laid down with meticulous care almost thirty years ago. He showed James how to cut into the vinyl using a razor knife and then to slowly and painstakingly scrape up the glue residue underneath using a razor scraper.

“You can’t rush a job like this,” Jackson warned as they got to work. “We’re gonna need to take off all the glue and paper sittin’ on top of the subfloorin’ just as careful as wipin’ a baby’s bottom.”

Jackson switched the radio on to his favorite country and western station and began to hum along with the latest tune by Toby Keith.

“That boy knows how to sing good American songs,” Jackson grunted as he pulled off a large segment of flooring and launched it out the back door along with the rest of the kitchen debris.

James hated how the backyard looked like a work site. He had hoped to hold the next supper club meeting at his house by hosting an outdoor picnic. Now, without a working kitchen and a backyard area that could have doubled as a set for Extreme Home Makeover, he didn’t see how he could invite his friends over at all.

“What’s eatin’ you, boy?” Jackson asked. “You’re burrowin’ into that subfloor like you’re a dog diggin’ for an old bone.”

James explained his concerns, expecting Jackson to shrug off his problem without much care, but to his surprise, his father stood and reached for the phone book. “I was gonna order a dumpster anyway. I’ll just make sure they come this week and get all this crap outta here. Then you can have your …” he swallowed as if choking on the words, “… supper group over.”

“Thanks, Pop,” James said gratefully. “Maybe you’d like to join us as well?”

Jackson began dialing a number. “I’m livin’ and breathin’ a bit more lively these days I know, but there’s no way in hell I’m ready for a whole night full of jawin’ and bad food.”

James laughed. “Fair enough, but once we get this kitchen finished I would like you to have dinner with my special friend Lucy.”

His father left a mumbled but officious message on someone’s voicemail and then looked at James appraisingly. “So, you finally made a move. ’Bout damn time, too.”

“You’re right about that, Pop,” James agreed, resuming the tedious scraping. “It was about damn time.”

Over the course of the day, James and his father had completely removed the linoleum and had prepped the subfloor to be laid with tile. Both the new cabinetry and the palettes of tile were delivered that afternoon, and the mountains of construction materials in the backyard almost prevented the Henry men from exiting and entering their own house. However, Jackson promised James that both the dumpster and P.J. would be arriving the following day and that the kitchen would be complete by the end of the workweek.

Later, Jackson stood next to the oven as James heated up their dinners: a container of Chicken Florentine Lasagna (one of the Witness to Fitness entrées) for James and the leftovers of one of Dolly’s succulent pot roasts for Jackson. James sprinkled a liberal amount of salt and pepper on his lasagna and began to eat, all the while trying to ignore the sight of the tender meat and plump potatoes that Jackson happily dunked into a pool of rich brown gravy.

“I’m tellin’ you, boy. That’s not man’s food.” Jackson took a greedy pull from his bottle of Budweiser. “You worked with your hands all day. You deserve a meal like I’m havin’. Go on, eat some of this,” he commanded.

“I can’t, Pop. Besides, this lasagna’s not that bad. It just needs some more salt.”

At that evening’s Witness to Fitness meeting, James was already so sore from a day of squatting over the kitchen floor that he didn’t think he could possibly survive a workout. Examining his calloused hands while waiting for his turn on the scale, he began to worry about the frequent amount of cheat foods he had consumed during the past week. As he stood scowling at the thought of actually gaining weight instead of losing it, Lucy breezed into the cubicle area and greeted him with a radiant smile.

“Why the frown, Professor?” she asked him lightly.

James explained his fears and she nodded in understanding. “It’s the food we’re required to eat on this diet. It’s getting old for all of us.”

Several other people overheard Lucy’s comment and began to complain to one another about the entrées until an antagonistic buzz developed around the scales.

Phoebe listened to the griping of one of the male clients as he was being weighed and realized that she needed to address the group’s concerns. Asking for quiet, she spoke gently to the disgruntled dieters.

“I talked to Ronnie last week about the blandness of the food you’ve purchased. She assured me that she really made an effort to spice up this week’s meals. Give them a chance and then we’ll see how you all feel by next Monday. Does that sound fair?”

It was impossible not to respond to Phoebe’s warmth and so all of the dieters immediately stopped grumbling and agreed to give the food one more shot.

“So she’s not here tonight?” James wondered, looking around.

“No, she says she’s come down with a bad cold,” Phoebe responded and beckoned James toward the scale. James thought he caught a hint of disbelief in Phoebe’s tone.

“Maybe it’s allergies,” James suggested. “Not too many people get colds in this kind of warm weather.”

“Maybe.” Phoebe looked unconvinced as she shifted the levels on the scale. “You’ve made more progress. Good work.”

James discovered that he had lost two pounds despite his lack of faithfulness to the food program. His feelings of invulnerability and good fortune surged.