How Can You Mend This Purple Heart (22 page)

“Ain't nothing in Florida,” Earl Ray shrugged.

“Just my last five months of enlistment. I think I'm getting out.”

“Where you going after that?” Earl Ray asked.

“Not sure. Maybe back here. I kind of like it here.”

“Five months is a long fucking time,” Earl shrugged again.

We visited Eva and the Rainbow as often as we could. It was the only place we ever saw Earl Ray smiling. And it was the only reason Earl would ever venture off the Ward. Eva would sit alone with Earl Ray in the booth at the back of the bar, the one next to the dance platform. They shared conversation, beers, cigarettes, and once in awhile, a short, open-mouth kiss. On a couple of occasions, Eva wasn't there and Earl Ray demanded to go back to Q.

Pappy got released back to full duty, and he and that beautiful, beat-up, old blue Buick pulled away from Q Ward and headed to Florida. The empty parking spot outside reminded me of the vacant bed slots on 2B—empty, lonely, and fearful. Pappy and his old Buick would be missed. Earl Ray would miss them the most.

Rosie's Place

“IT'S TOO QUIET
here, Shoff,” Big Al said. “Saturdays suck. Shit, Q sucks.”

“I hear you, Al. Ski's been going home every weekend now,” I replied. “He asks me to go, but I don't want to be a pain in the ass to his folks.”

“Must be nice to go home every weekend,” Big Al said.

“That'll come soon enough,” Moose shrugged. “Why ain't you out somewhere, Shoff? Not like you have to hang around here all day.”

“I don't mind. I got no place to go, anyway.”

“Wish we could get you out of here, Earl. Get you to the Rainbow,” Big Al said.

“We need a car, man,” I said.

“Why don't you two just get off your asses and go to the Rainbow,” Earl Ray said. “I'm getting tired of your whining.”

“Ain't the same without you there, Earl,” Big Al said.

“Then go some-fucking-place else.”

We took him up on his advice. About an hour later, Big Al and I slipped through the hole in the fence and went looking for a place other than the Rainbow Bar and Grille.

We walked about fifteen blocks north on Broad Street, and my legs were beginning to weaken. I slid Big Al down on a bus bench for a breather.

“Light me up a Kool, will you, Shoff?”

“You got it.”

I took out a pack of Kools tucked in my left sock and lit each of us a cigarette.

“Here you go, my friend.”

We sat on the metal and wooden bench in the warm afternoon air enjoying the smokes and waving an occasional city bus to pass on by.

“You two going to sit here all night?” a lusty voice asked from behind us. We both turned toward the voice as the woman pulled a wrought-iron gate inward, gracefully stepped around, and came toward us.

“Not me,” Big Al said. “It's hurting my ass.”

She leaned her hip against the bus bench, pulled out a cigarette from a silver case, and sat down next to Big Al.

“The name's Rosie; nice to meet you two.”

“I'm Big Al, this here's Shoff.”

“Well, Big Al and Shoff, what brings you to my bus stop? I've been watching you for almost half an hour.”

“Just resting a while,” Big Al smiled. “This walking takes a lot out of me.”

“I'm sure it does,” she said as she gently touched Big Al near his hips where his legs used to be.

Rosie was a beautiful thirty-year-old with gray-green eyes that had a look much older than her pretty face and slim body. One side of her shoulder-length red hair kept falling forward, so she was constantly tucking it behind her ear. Her hair wasn't red-red. It was more of an orange-brown red, like the Ozark maple leaves in November. The kind that blanket the ground and invite you to bury yourself in their colors and pretend you're in a place far away.

Her teeth would have been perfect except for the slightly yellow tint from a pack-a-day routine of Pall Malls. Three hairline creases splintered her lower lip, giving her mouth a slightly rutted but sensual roughness. Her smooth easy motion and straight-in-your-eyes look was that of a woman who was sure of herself.

Rosie inhaled deeply from a Pall Mall and crossed her legs. The loose-fitting skirt, with only the two top buttons fastened in the front, spread upward in a fleshy V-shape, exposing her youth-tight thighs. Big Al and I couldn't take our eyes off of them.

“Why don't you two come in and have a beer? I'll introduce you to my friends.”

We entered the front door into a plush lavender and white living room. A huge easy chair with large purple flower prints and the matching wrap-around couch bulged from the far corner. The walls were checkered with large black-and-white pictures, four of Bob Dylan and three of Marilyn Monroe. A wall-size, gold-framed mirror over the long end of the couch nearly reflected the entire room. Pure-white, translucent curtains with smaller matching prints of the purple flowers draped the side window by the stairway. A thick, wooden built-in bookcase was wedged in the corner, floor to ceiling, between the front door and the side window. The shelves were stuffed with books of all kinds.

Rosie disappeared through a thicket of dangling purple and white beads that draped the doorway just to the right of the front door. Blood, Sweat and Tears was descending almost indiscernible from the hollow at the top of the stairs.

I slid Big Al down on the couch and stood staring at the giant bookcase, craning to hear the music. A strange feeling came over me—the same feeling I had the first time I rolled into the solarium. I felt like I didn't belong here. It wasn't like it was hallowed ground, but this kind of place wasn't meant for me. I wasn't good enough. But for whatever reason, through whatever flash of fate, I was standing in the purple and white living room of some whore named Rosie.

“You thinking what I'm thinking?” I whispered to Big Al.

“Yeah, Rosie runs a whorehouse,” he said with a really big smile. “Somebody pinch me.”

“Of all the bus benches we could have picked. Damn good thing my legs were getting tired when they did.”

“Shit, it was my idea to give you a rest,” Big Al chuckled.

“I don't think we have enough money for this place.”

“That's for damn sure,” Big Al said, patting his crotch.

Rosie slid sideways back through the beads with two bottles of beer and three glasses of wine on a tray.

“Wow, you really like your wine,” Big Al laughed. “And only one beer for us?”

“Hope you like Budweiser,” she said.

“The King of Beers,” Al proclaimed.

We both swigged from the bottles. Big Al looked like he was going to disappear into the oversized cushions of the lavender-flowered couch. I grabbed his hand and he pulled himself up.

“Would you be more comfortable sitting here?” Rosie asked, patting her hand on the seat cushion of the chair.

“I'm okay,” Big Al smiled. “I'm just not used to nice pillows. The ones we have on Q are like bricks.”

“What's Q?”

“Oh, sorry. It's the ward we live on at the Navy hospital, Q Ward.”

“Well, here's to Q Ward,” Rosie said, raising her glass. “And, I prefer to call this a Garden of Eden. Don't let Tammie or Sheryl hear you call it a whorehouse,” Rosie smiled at us over the rim of her wine glass.

“Sorry, we didn't mean anything by it,” Big Al blushed a little. “But you do…you are…I mean.”

“Yes, we do, and yes, we are. But we are very much ladies. And we don't walk the streets or hustle the bars.”

“Then how do you…you know?” I asked.

“We refer to them as clients, and they know how to find us,” Rosie said with conviction. “But this time, we found you. Now, how do we get you upstairs, Big Al?” Rosie asked, setting down her glass.

“That's my job,” I said.

Big Al was around my neck before I could set my beer down.

“Do you believe this shit?” he tried to whisper as we followed Rosie and her two glasses of wine toward the music.

What goes up…must come down. Spinning wheel…got to go round.

Rosie waited in the hall at the open door as I carried Big Al into the bedroom. He was squeezing my neck a little tighter than usual. Rosie stepped in and went behind us, placing one of the glasses of wine on a small table.

Tammie was gorgeous—long, gleaming brown hair, soft blue eyes, and full lips, shimmering with lavender lipstick. Her pink naked body was half-covered under a white satin sheet that lay in folds across her hips.

Big Al slipped off my shoulders with a clumsy thud onto the bed, and we both gave out a nervous chuckle. Tammie reached down and took Big Al by both hands and pulled him up to share her pillow.

I stepped out into the hall where Rosie was waiting. She pulled the heavy wooden door closed until only a small crack of light showed through.

Drop all your troubles by the riverside.

“What about you, uh, Shoff? Would you like to meet Sheryl?”

“I think I'll just wait for Al downstairs. You know we don't have a lot of mon…”

“Please, don't,” she said. “You and your friend are our guests. We invited you here. We are doing this because we want to.”

“I'll just wait for Big Al,” I said.

I stood at the top of the stairway as Rosie glided down the long hall and dropped off the remaining glass of wine. A third doorway across the hall was closed tight; a small wood carving with the name Rosie hung over a tiny privacy keyhole.

You got no money…you got no home.

We made our way down to the living room, and Rosie came back through the beaded curtain doorway with a cold Budweiser and a fresh glass of wine.

“Sheryl is more than disappointed. Are you trying to be noble?”

“No,” I stammered. “I don't think I even know how to be. I just want this to be something special for Big Al.”

“What would Al say about you saying no?”

“He's going to think I'm nuts. He'll recommend me for the psych ward.”

“You can still change your mind.”

“Maybe next time. I mean, if…”

“Of course, there will be a next time. You and Al are welcome anytime. Well, almost any time,” she grinned. “We'll have to set up some rules. Let me think about it.”

She picked up her wine glass and sat next to me on the big lavender flower-covered couch.

“I really don't like calling you Shoff. Do you have a first name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Well, Jeremy, what brought you two to my front gate?”

I wanted to tell her it was the purest of all luck, absolute fate, and the stars were aligned this way only once in a zillion years.

“Well, the Rainbow isn't the same without Earl Ray, so we were looking for a new place.”

“The Rainbow?”

“Yeah, the Rainbow. It's a bar close to the hospital.”

“And Earl Ray?”

“A friend of mine and Big Al's. A good friend.”

“He must be if you don't want to go to the Rainbow without him.”

An hour passed; we talked about Earl Ray and the hospital, and Rosie had another wine. I had two more Budweisers, and Rosie said she felt like she already knew Earl Ray.

“Maybe you can bring him by sometime.”

“That would be great…if we could get him to come.”

“I don't think that's going to be a problem!” Big Al said, grinning from ear to ear. Tammie and Big Al were standing at the bottom of the stairs, Big Al's arms snug around her neck.

“Well, ain't that some shit,” I laughed, trying my best to sound like Bobby Mac. “Looks like I lost my job.”

“I only work inside,” her sultry voice teased.

Big Al sat with cheeks blazing from the hour-long enchantment with Tammie.

“You should see your cheeks, Al,” Rosie smiled. “Now you know why it's called Rosie's Place.”

We drank another beer before getting up to head back. Sheryl came down to say hello and goodbye—man, was I really nuts for turning down this offer.

Rosie kissed us each on the cheek and reminded us of her rules.

“Remember, we are ladies here. This is our secret; you tell anyone other than Earl Ray, and it's off. No more than once a week—after all, it is a business. Call the number I gave you two days before you want to come down. Friday and Sunday afternoons are best. Sit on the bus bench until one of us comes out. Oh, and don't forget to talk to Earl Ray.”

We sat on the bench smoking a cigarette and waited for a southbound bus.

“I think I'm in love, Shoff.”

“I don't blame you, Big Al.”

“No, I mean it. I think I'm in love. I could feel it. She held me like a baby. I mean, she didn't just screw me, she made love to me. I don't think I've ever had a woman do that before.”

“Be careful, Al, that's what she does for a living. Tammie may not even be her real name.”

“I don't give a shit,” he said calmly. “I've never felt like that with a woman before.”

“Maybe it's the kind of women you've been with before.”

“She's different, man. I know she's supposed to make you feel good. But I'll bet other guys don't feel like this about her. Shit, they all probably got wives at home.”

“Let's talk about it back on Q,” I said as a bus rumbled up.

Everyone stared at us as Big Al slid from my neck and into the seat closest to the back doors. It was a quick ten minutes, and we couldn't wait to get off. As we stepped down into the stairwell and the doors swooshed open, Big Al clutched my shirt with one hand, raised his other hand, and gave them the finger.

The bus exhaled loudly as we stepped away from its blowing fumes, and we walked toward the hole in the fence.

“Let's sit here a while,” Big Al said.

“Okay. We've got all night.”

We leaned against the chain-link fence, lit a cigarette, and sat quietly in the dark.