The Scandalous Summer of Sissy LeBlanc (8 page)

had left town. They’d gone to college on the G.I. Bill and never

returned or they’d found new opportunities in the city.

But a few remained to take over the family farm or run a small

business. A couple of his old teammates spotted him and came

over. One was tall and gaunt, with an unhealthy pallor and a heavy

T h e S c a n d a l o u s S u m m e r o f S i s s y L e B l a n c 4 9

five o’clock shadow prickling over his cheeks. He had small black

eyes with pouches hanging from them. Parker remembered they

called him Plurb something. The other man Parker recognized as

Sammy Rutledge, whose family owned Parish Motors. Sammy had

been heavy when he played tackle. Now he looked as if he’d been

stuffed into his skin like a German sausage. They’d been sopho-

mores when Parker had had his famous senior year. Sammy slapped

him on the shoulder. “What you doing back, boy?”

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” Parker said, motioning for

them to sit down.

“Hell, yes,” said Sammy, pulling out a chair. It creaked with his

weight. Plurb hooked an empty from the next table. Sammy waved

to Rosalie behind the bar and said, “Tell the truth. There’s no place

like Gentry, is there?”

“Damn straight,” said Parker.

Sammy nodded to Plurb with approval. Plurb said nothing.

“Parker’s working with me,” Calvin said with obvious pride. He

downed his fourth beer. Even though he was the supervisor, Calvin

had the grace not to say Parker Davidson’s working
for
me, but it

was there anyway, hanging in the air.

Parker shifted in his chair. “It keeps me outdoors.”

His former teammates nodded and said nothing, but they looked

betrayed. Peewee was right. Parker was supposed to come back

bringing them fame and glory they could bask in. Parker recognized

the look. He knew he should have saved up enough money in

Miami so he could just sit around Gentry and look important. But

he’d go nuts doing that, so he said, “I never was one to settle

down.”

He saw Plurb’s eyes shine with a dream of freedom—a man’s

freedom.

“Same ol’ Parker,” Sammy said.

“Gotta be wild and free,” said Parker.

When Rosalie arrived to take their order, they fought over who’d

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buy the drinks. Parker slapped a five on the table, but Sammy

pushed it away and handed Rosalie a ten. “This boy’s been con-

sorting with Yankees and worse. His money’s no good down here.”

Rosalie smiled and took Sammy’s bill. “You all want some

potato chips?” she asked, slipping her pencil behind her ear into her

curly black hair. The gold was peeling from her drop earrings. She

looked tired.

“Sure do, honey,” said Calvin, patting her once voluptuous hips,

now beginning to sag. “We just love your potatoes.” Rosalie swat-

ted at him like at a pesky fly. Sammy and Plurb laughed. Parker said

nothing.

“Hey,” Sammy yelled after her. “Bring three, four bags of pork

cracklin’, too.” He brushed his pale crew cut with his palm in eager

anticipation.

When Rosalie came back with the order, Calvin waited until she

leaned over the table with a tray of drinks and rubbed his palm over

her spreading rear. This time Rosalie jumped. Parker had to move

fast to catch the tray before the beers turned over and landed on

their laps.

“Hey, woman, you gotta be more careful,” Calvin said.

Sammy and Plurb thought that was hilarious.

“Cut it out, Calvin,” Parker said, handing the tray back to

Rosalie.

“What’s eating you, boy?” Calvin asked, his voice filled with the

injured innocence of the intoxicated.

“Can’t you see she doesn’t appreciate it?”

“Sure she does. You love me, don’t you, honey?” Calvin said, try-

ing to pinch her.

“Course I do,” Rosalie said, jumping back and moving around

Parker for protection. She set out the last of the drinks, warily eye-

ing Sammy Rutledge, who was on Parker’s right.

Sammy appraised the waitress with a crooked smile. Then he saw

Parker’s expression and decided to go with the winners. “Leave her

alone, Calvin. You’re drunk.”

T h e S c a n d a l o u s S u m m e r o f S i s s y L e B l a n c 5 1

“Damn right,” said Calvin. “And proud of it.”

Everyone laughed at that.

When Rosalie was gone, the men relaxed. Sammy started to rem-

inisce about Parker’s famous ninety-five-yard touchdown against

Hammond. While Calvin amiably downed his fifth beer, the three

ex-teammates went over the game, play by play. Parker could

almost hear the cheering as they relived that great afternoon. He

felt better than he had in ages. He told them about the opposition

tackle who’d tried to step on his face. “That’s right. He did fall,”

said Sammy. “I remember thinking he wasn’t real coordinated.”

“Right,” said Parker. “Lost all his coordination when I yanked

on his shoe.” Everybody laughed and Parker was glad he’d come

home where he could find friends to share his memories.

“Why didn’t you get the rest of us to beat the shit out of him on

the next play?” Plurb asked. It was the first time he’d spoken.

“That would be playing his game,” said Parker. “I didn’t want to

do that.”

Plurb squinted at Parker. “I remember, you always was clean

cut.” He picked up his beer and sniffed it.

“Nothing wrong with that,” said Calvin. His voice was loud.

Sammy agreed there was nothing wrong with that at all. Plurb

said nothing.

“You never did get hurt, did you?” asked Sammy, tearing into the

potato chips.

“Once, sophomore year.” Parker described the game against

Amite. “Doctor benched me for a month.” He started to tell them

about it, but they weren’t listening. It was before their time.

“Remember the barf party we had after we beat Hammond!”

said Sammy, washing his potato chips down with beer and opening

a bag of pork cracklin’. “Man oh man, did I get sick.” They ordered

another round and moved on to the great barf parties of their

youth. When the drinks came, Calvin kept his hands to himself.

After that, talk turned to the war. But pretty soon Calvin and

Sammy were doing the talking, because all Parker would say about

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his Silver Star was “I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong

time.” He never said any more.

“Tell these boys about some of them places you was living in. He

was shacked up with one of them Thailand cuties,” Calvin said,

pulling on his eyes so they’d slant.

“No shit!” Pork cracklin’ fell out of Sammy’s open mouth.

But when Parker started talking about something besides cuties,

Sammy cut him off. “Hell, Parker, me and Plurb was stationed over

in the Pacific. We couldn’t wait to get home. Them places are filled

to busting with little brown people, don’t even speak English.” He

passed the pork cracklin’ around the table. “And the things they

eat. Shit, that stuff ain’t fit for a dog.”

Plurb spoke for the third time that evening. “They eat the dogs,

too.”

A silence descended on the table after that. Parker searched for

some way to fill it. He’d been the captain of the team and still felt

it incumbent upon him to keep up their spirits. A muscle in his

neck started to ache. Before he could think of anything, the others

reached for their wallets and pulled out pictures of their families.

Sammy showed off his plump wife and two plump sons. Plurb,

with quiet pride, passed around a snapshot of his sweet-faced wife

and six little girls in matching dresses and Mary Jane shoes. Calvin

pulled out a snapshot of Thelma, who turned out to be blond and

perky. Parker admired all the pictures, but didn’t pull out any of

his own.

Finally Parker’s teammates wandered off, shaking their heads.

Gentry’s greatest football star and war hero stringing phone lines

for Calvin Merkin. A satisfied smile played around Plurb’s slack

cheeks. Parker felt humiliated. He knew the most satisfying thing

about other people’s fame is seeing them brought down to your

level of everyday disappointment, but that’s not what he’d come

home for.

“You still got family here?” Calvin asked, hoping to solve the

mystery of why Parker had returned.

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But Parker shook his head. “You know my father died.”

“I always wondered why you didn’t come back for the funeral.”

“I was trekking through the jungles of Burma. By the time I

found out, my mother had already moved to Florida.” The two

men looked at one another in silence. “She visited me in Bangkok

that Christmas, but she didn’t like it.”

“Was you living with your Thailand cutie?”

Parker nodded and twisted his head to stretch the tense muscle.

“Your mama find out?”

“My girlfriend didn’t have any other place to go. I couldn’t

throw her into the street.”

“Jesus, Parker.” Calvin wiped his head and then carefully

arranged his hairs. There was admiration in his voice, but Parker

heard anxiety, too. He’s afraid I’ll get him in trouble. Parker didn’t

know how to reassure him. This afternoon with Sissy had ignited

a spark he wasn’t sure he could snuff out. He wasn’t sure he want-

ed to.

They drank in silence. Calvin began complaining again about his

wife, Thelma, his ball and chain. Parker tried to match his descrip-

tion to the perky blond in the picture. Maybe she wasn’t so perky

anymore. Finally, she called and Calvin had to stagger on home for

dinner. “Dammit, Parker, you’re one lucky bastard. You’re free to

do anything. Anything you want.”

“Yeah,” said Parker. “Anything I want.” He stayed at the Par-

adise until most of the crowd had gone home to their wives. He

talked to Rosalie behind the bar for a while. Then he began to feel

queasy. He decided to go on home and get himself some supper.

He got into his car with a grinding sense of futility. Nothing was

working out. He should have known. He thought about Sissy and

how he’d had to hide in the pantry because of that bigoted toad

she’d married.

He heard the
Panama Limited
in the distance hurtling toward

Chicago. The luxury express had roared through town twice a day,

every day of his youth.

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Red lights flashed at the crossing.

Suddenly Parker was back in high school and in the grip of a

crazed adrenaline rush. He downshifted and charged the tracks.

He could beat the old
Panama Limited
. He could still do it. The

MG was caught in the blinding light of the oncoming train as it

rushed toward him. The warning bell clanged as he floored the gas

pedal.

The diesel screamed.

Parker white-knuckled across the intersection.

“Yowee!” he yelled into the night as the gates closed down

behind him. The adrenaline had knocked out the grinding in his

stomach.

And then as the train blasted and rumbled, he heard his saner

voice. That was a damned fool thing to do! You almost killed your-

self and all those innocent people. For what? For nothing.

Parker began to shake and had to wipe his palms on his jeans. As

a kid he’d spent hours watching the trains. He’d been fascinated by

them and the tales of heroes who’d given their lives to pull innocent

victims from the tracks. When he was ten years old, he’d tried to

strike a deal with God. As long as I’ve got to die anyway, let me do

it saving a life.

So far, fortunately, the Lord hadn’t seen fit to answer.

He crossed the tracks again at Education Drive and drove

through the quiet to the high school. Nothing had changed. It was

the same two-story brick building set back in the pines. The same

broad steps where Sissy and the other cheerleaders used to sit with

their legs bent under their skirts. The same double entrance doors,

flanked by cement pilasters and surrounded by curlicues.
Mens sana

in corpore sano
was engraved in the cement. He wondered if they

were still engraving Latin above the doors of American schools. He

doubted it.

He stopped the car and got out. He wanted to run those ninety-

five yards one more time. His work boots made a crunching sound

in the dried pine needles under his feet. The scent of pine was strong

T h e S c a n d a l o u s S u m m e r o f S i s s y L e B l a n c 5 5

in his nostrils. He began to sprint. His face took on the wind. He

rounded the corner of the school and kept on running.

The field was there as it had always been. The lights, the score-

board, the cement stadium, in front of which Sissy had leaped into

the air and led the cheers.

But they’d put up a chain-link fence.

He stood panting. He went over to the gate and shook it. It was

padlocked. Damn. For a brief moment he considered climbing over

it. He fit the toe of his work boot into a hole in the chain link. He