Louis Shalako: Heaven Is Too Far Away, Chapter Twenty-Three. Louis Shalako.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dinner on The Town

That evening, I shaved up real good and put on my best uniform. I have been told that I’m a handsome man. Frankly, I just don’t get it. But there’s no accounting for taste, is there? Someone once described me as ‘pleasantly ugly.’ Now that, I can accept. I never chased women. I don’t know why, I just never learned how. Funny thing is, in the end, I figure I did all right.

I went out to dinner. As usual I waited for a table, but my luck was in and they found a small one by the kitchen doors. That doesn’t sound like a good seat? I may be a nobody, but a couple of medals hanging on the right uniform will work wonders in this town.

The Royal Flying Corps was ‘in.’ The Navy wouldn’t get a seat that quickly. The thought made me smile. Hopefully it would rain all night. There was a big crowd of the buggers still on the sidewalk outside the building. If I looked, I could see their forms outside the rain-blotted windows that lined the east side of the sooty old edifice.

From my own first impression, the five-star rating was over-rated.

***

“Tucker?” Asked a sweet voice at my elbow.

Startled out of my reverie, the delicious aromas emanating from the cookery beside us were now muted due to a full belly, yet a new fragrance, the fragrance of…

“Jennifer?”

I stood quickly, dropping the napkin beside the plates and stuff.

Thankfully, she didn’t catch me chewing down a big chunk of meat. My chin was free of gravy and crumbs.

“It is you.” She smiled. “How could anyone forget the immortal Will Tucker?”

“Do you have time to sit down?” I said. “You look amazing. Who’s the lucky, er, stiff?”

I was about to say, ‘Who’s the lucky son of a bitch?’

“Smiling gentleman, blonde moustache, over on the left, behind the palms.” She indicated.

A very composed young lady. Nevertheless, I caught a faint hint of boredom or perhaps even disappointment.

I knew him. A nice enough guy. Jimmy worked over at the Admiralty in cartography.

“How is old Jim?” I asked politely, not having much to say to Jennifer.

We had met only briefly, and I was dumb enough to fall asleep.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep last time.” I apologized.

"Tucker? The immortal Will Tucker?"

“Don’t worry about that.” She chuckled in quite a low, husky voice for a girl.

That caused a small shiver in my guts.

“The last time my brother Richard came home, he slept for a week.” She ventured. “Really, he got up at nine or ten. He slept on a deck chair on the veranda in the afternoon. He took little naps after dinner, then went to bed fairly early, eleven-thirty or midnight.”

“Heh, heh.” I murmured. “I know the feeling. I work my ass off, excuse me, and now have exactly two days to put myself back together again.”

The waiter cleared the table as I sat and looked her over. She was well put together.

God had done a real good job.

I smiled ruefully.

“You ever had a nervous breakdown? Well, I’ve earned it, and I’m determined to enjoy it.”

We relaxed in silence. Jennifer was about five-eight. She had blonde hair, and blue eyes. She had on a tan, fuzzy cashmere sweater with a string of white pearls. Dark brown skirt. Very subdued, very tasteful. Nice breasts.

She coolly surveyed the room. She must have left the glasses at home. How much could she actually see, I wondered?

“I’m bored.” She said, turning to gaze deeply into my own eyes.

There’s some kind of message here. I was furiously thinking. She sees well enough, I was thinking. The waiter brought a glass and I poured her some wine.

At that point her date came over, and while he strode up confidently enough, I think he was a little taken aback by the sight of all the medals. Jennifer had a strange little smirk on her face as she watched.

“Jim. I’ve been meaning to look you up.” I said, lurching painfully up out of my seat again.

I pulled out a convenient chair for Jim at Jennifer’s elbow.

“What are all you folks up to this evening?”

Jim’s boyish, freckled face flushed with pleasure, although we only had a passing acquaintance. We’d shot each other a line or two over a glass of beer one time at a conference. A lunch-time break, just he and I and a few others.

“I hear you’re doing well.” He replied. “I was just wondering if you would care to join us, but first…”

He took a deep breath, and hesitated.

“Um, Jennifer, I know I said…well, I mean, if you don’t mind.” He stuttered.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, Jimmy,” she reassured him.

I watched closely, and she obviously had Jim right where she wanted him. A nice young fellow, he was perhaps a little overconfident and misunderstood his standing with her.

“I mean, it’s just that the boys are only in town for, ah, tonight, and it would be shame to miss it, you know.” He went on.

“Of course Jim. I wouldn’t want you to miss it,” she patted him on the arm as they sat side by side.

I sat watching Jim making a very serious tactical and strategic error with what was obviously a very high quality woman. A very beautiful one.

“I would be honored to escort your date, Jim. There’s nothing to worry about on that score.” I told him. “I don’t mind. I’m just in town overnight myself, with a few hours to kill.”

“Of course, I may not be the best company.” I warned Jennifer.

“Aw, that’s awfully decent of you, old chap.” Said Jim.

He tossed his drink off and it was apparent Jim had a plan, one which involved a lot of drinking, already outlined in his head.

“Is it okay if I give you a call, later this week?” I asked him. “There’s a small project that could really use some professional help, and you popped into mind. It’s a very small world, and a lucky break to run into you.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “What do you need? I would kick in the admiral’s door, if you wanted.”

“You would?” I briefly considered. “That’s awfully nice of you to offer, and we may have to take you up on that someday.”

“You name it, Will.” He said. “I may be hidden in a back hallway, but I do have some surprising powers.”

“Maps.” I said. “I need a lot of good maps, and a couple of other little things.”

“Cor. Anything you want.” He told me. “I heard something funny about you this morning.”

“What? No, I don’t like boys,” I cracked, and the two of them guffawed in unison.

“I heard you were funny.” Thus giggled Jennifer.

“Who told you that?” I asked sternly, staring at her with an angry, fake frown.

She giggled again, then composed her features in mock seriousness.

“You’re mean.” She said impishly, batting her eyelashes in mock flirtation.

“If you don’t stop that you’ll go blind.” I told her.

She chokked-chokked as a little of her drink went down the wrong way.

“Oops. Sorry.” I apologized wryly.

“Bastard.” Although she said it with a smile.

Jimmy looked over at the other table, where a group of folks were engaged in a serious but noisy discussion of the finer points of horse racing.

“Getting a bit out of hand. Better get them the hell out of here. I heard you were getting a big promotion.” He nodded. “Of course, you would be the last to know.”

“It isn’t the most important thing on my mind right now.” I admitted. “But it doesn’t seem very likely.”

Why would they be talking about me at the Admiralty?

“Just dying to get back into the fray?” He grinned over the tablecloth.

“Hell, no.” I assured them to more grins.

Poor old Jim’s eyes kept straying back to those damned medals ranked up there on my tunic. Fuck.

Jimmy had a good smile, and a nice face. It is nice to be liked by people sometimes. England was like that to strangers in wartime. It was a good feeling. It’s better than being shot at.

***

A lady like Jennifer didn’t have to go home early. She didn’t have to sit there waiting to be asked out dancing, or to the theatre. For whatever reason, she had latched onto me and seemed determined to stick.

She knew something I didn’t.

She did say she was bored.

Maybe she liked to go slumming once in a while.

“Are you into motorcycles?” I asked as we walked.

It was a surprisingly warm night, all of a sudden.

“I’ve never been on one.” She admitted. “Will it be cold?”

I hadn’t invited her yet.

“We’ll bundle you up nice and cozy.”

She had on a dress and stockings, and by golly, the little mink coat didn’t look any too warm, not at any kind of speed.

“I like the sound of that.” She whispered, mouth up close to my ear.

She was glued to my side. Suddenly the rows and rows of goose bumps stood up.

“As I recall, you have beautiful feet. I wouldn’t like to see those pretty toes all chewed up with frostbite.” I ventured uneasily.

“Beautiful feet?” She tittered.

“I’m sorry, Miss Jennifer. I didn’t mean to get too personal. It’s just that I used to draw when I was younger.”

I tried to explain without further embarrassment.

I’m a mature man, I should be able to say what I mean without hemming and hawing.

“Figure drawing is extremely challenging.” I rambled on. “I doubt if I could capture your feet. Or anything else about you, for that matter. Not with any real justice.”

That doesn’t sound very confident.

“Have you drawn a lot of women’s feet?” She giggled.

“That’s about all I ever got to draw. Hands and faces, landscapes, animals. I used to try and draw my horses all the time.”

“You never know until you try.” She murmured seductively, giving a good strong squeeze on my suddenly sweating palm.

I stopped suddenly.

“I’m not looking for any…trouble.” I said.

She stood there, gazing up in the light of a lamppost.

“I won’t be any…trouble.” She said it quietly, after we had a good long gaze at each other.

Oh, my God. What have I gotten myself into this time?

“Women. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ’em.”

She laughed at that one, and we moseyed on. In any case, we were friends and whatever happened, happened. There was no rush. She was telling me to relax and let nature take its course. Now that’s something an old farmer can understand.

“Que sera.” I told her. “Whatever will be, will be.”

“I’m a very patient girl. But I usually get what I want.”

Okey-dokey.

***

I had a key.

We found some old clothes hanging in Petersen’s shop. He was out for the evening, although I didn’t prowl through the building to confirm it. She didn’t want to put them on over her dress, so she used the lavatory to change. When she came out, she had her hair tied up tight and was wearing two pairs of trousers under a set of mechanic’s coveralls. What they call a boiler suit, not like the bib overalls that I usually wore around the farmstead.

The shirts and sweaters were humongously too big.

“Very fetching.” I chuckled.

She did look cute. With a face like that, not too many motorcycles would get repaired if the boys were in the shop. She was gazing around the room in curiosity.

“What a mess.” She said.

The place was pretty small, and jam-packed with parts, pieces and equipment.

“This one’s mine.” I noted.

“It would have to be the biggest and most powerful one.”

I took a quick glance around the room, and the low-ceilinged area on the side.

“Petersen’s bike is really fast.” I wanted to show her. “But he seems to be gone for the time being.”

“Yours will be big enough, I’m thinking.” She said, and I flushed in embarrassment.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I muttered.

“I meant the bike.”

This woman was going to eat me for breakfast. My hands trembled as I reached out and took a firm grip on the handlebars, and dragged, pushed and pulled the bulky thing out of its slot. Quickly donning an old flight suit, I opened up the door. The chill entered with a flourish of grey, threadbare fog.

Brick walls and yellowing lights seemed warm in comparison.

I kicked the machine into life and let it idle to warm up. It would settle down in a minute, but if I tried to leave too soon it would stall or the carb would ice up. All kinds of problems. You want the oil to heat up a little as well. The chassis was used, but the motor was new and it was still in the running-in process.

It sat for a moment, chugging away.

“Still want to go?” I asked.

She nodded seriously.

“Not scared are you?”

She nodded seriously.

“Really?”

She nodded again. And then I just sort of grabbed her, pulling her in close.

Wrapping my long arms around her, in a big bear hug, I gazed down into her sea-green eyes. Good thing I took a closer look.

“I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Yes, sir.” She chattered.

“I’ll tell you what.” I suggested. “Why don’t we just go around the area for a quick tour, and then I’ll take you home, someplace warm, or anywhere you want to go.”

“I’m all ears.” She said.

“No, I’m the one with the big ears.” An apt observation. “You’re all woman. That’s plain enough. Even when you’re all bundled up like that.”

“Jesus, are you back again?” A big voice in the hall called out.

“Hey, Petersen. We’re just going out for a ride. And I’m not Jesus, although the mistake is a natural one.”

This evoked chuckles all around.

“And who is the young lady?” He asked in a curious manner.

Of course, he knew all about Melissa and Betty. He knew the facts of the case.

Bill was trying real hard not to raise his eyebrows. I could see the little twitch.

“This is Jennifer,” I introduced them. “Jennifer, meet Bill Petersen.”

I still couldn’t recall her last name. Presumably she would tell me when ready.

“How do you do?” She said. “Will and Bill.”

***

The fog deadened the motor and the sounds of the city. The tires went swish-swish through small puddles of moisture and slick spots from a day of drizzle, although it wasn’t raining at the time. She clung on tightly, with her head buried in the back of my shoulder. I kept the speed low, and made each gear change carefully, letting out the clutch nice and smooth.

“Are you warm enough?” I called.

She gave me a squeeze, then…uh, oh, her little glove slid and crept carefully down to my crotch. She gently rubbed the area, while I tried to drive, shift gears, and not fall off the saddle in shock.

“Naughty girl.” I said.

She kept doing it. There was only one way to stop her, so I turned around and headed back to the shop. Finally she just quit and hung on tight. Petersen had locked up, and we shivered as I worked to get the door open. My fumbling, shaking fingers managed to get the key in the padlock. I drew back the big sliding door, and pushed my machine back into place. She went into the bathroom to get out of her costume. As I wiped some of the moisture off of the bike, my mind raced ahead furiously.

“I’m still in love with Betty, aren’t I?” I whispered to the walls.

Faint noises from the bathroom indicated that she would be a while. I had a little more time to think. What the hell do I do now? She’s the daughter of a cabinet minister. Some distant relation to Smith-Barry.

Whipping off my own suit, I tossed it at a peg on the wall by the door. I hurriedly checked my uniform for neatness, and waited. The door opened and the light went out.

“Ready to go?” I asked. “You look ravishing, Jennifer. Any damage done to the airframe?”

“That was scary.” She vowed in no uncertain terms. “How do you boys do it?”

“You get used to it, although I did hit a patch of gravel and banged up my knee a bit last week, or maybe I guess it was the week before…”

But she interrupted me.

“NO, dummy. How do you deal with the fear?” She asked seriously, examining my face intently.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Not that. You know what I mean.” She said, and tears sprung up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jennifer. I shouldn’t have taken you for a ride.” And I felt like a heel, a cad and a boor.

“No, no. That was a good, useful life experience,” she sort of cried. “I just don’t know how you boys deal with the fear.”

She seemed to be hanging back, not getting too close.

I wanted to comfort the girl. Drawing closer, she still seemed shy.

“I’m so sorry, Jennifer. Did you get sick?” I asked.

There was the faint aroma of vomit from her vicinity, but she was just looking at me in silent wonder.

“I’ll take you home.” I offered. “I could call a cab.”

“Let’s talk.” She said.

Not my favorite thing, but she was a nice lady and everything. I felt somehow morally responsible for her confusion. She was very vulnerable.

“We’ll go back to my place and get a nice, hot, cup of tea.”

“Tea. You sound like my grandmother.” She said bitterly. “Grandma always said, ‘there’s nothing like a good cup of tea to settle your nerves.’”

“Your grandmother is, or was, a very sensible woman. I reckon she knew what she was talking about.”

I let us out the front and we walked arm in arm.

As we passed a chemist’s, that’s like a drugstore in England, inspiration hit.

“I’ll just be half a moment.” I told her.

She waited patiently by the sales counter as I purchased a couple of small things, toothbrushes, paste, and several other items. I didn’t buy any condoms, if that’s what the reader was thinking. The man behind the counter let me pay for it wordlessly, and with a nod of thanks, we went out into the night.

“You’re staying with me tonight. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, but I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Firm. Anyhow, she made no objection.

So that’s how it started with Jennifer. We went to my room, ordered some tea and light food and it seemed there was no rush to get going. We sat on the sofa together, she with her legs drawn up, with me sort of sitting on one hip facing her. It’s always better on my left hip.

“No one knows how to deal with the fear.” I began. “Some men don’t seem to have any fear at all, or maybe they just hide it better. Maybe they have better composure.”

She sipped her tea and listened without any interruptions, which is unusual. Most people are willing to listen, but then they want their say as well.

“Some men have no guts at all. They don’t last long. They turn to drink, or drugs, or they run away, and there are ways to get out if necessary.” I explained. “What is strange, or better yet unexplainable, is where one man gets it and another man doesn’t.”

She regarded me. So, I kept going.

“I wouldn’t fly with a man who didn’t have the ability to cope with the fear. They’re dangerous to themselves and to their friends.”

We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other.

“It’s not a question of cowardice. Courage is like a kind of...I don’t know, a kind of moral capital. It’s not unlimited. If you spend it too quickly, you run out. At some point the analogy runs dry, but I think if you spend the courage at about the same rate that the interest builds up, I think you’ll be okay.” I figured aloud. “We don’t have the option, in war. Men will drive themselves into battle, time and time again, and for what reason?”

She had no answer.

“Stubborn, miserable pride…”

She just listened as I sought the proper words to express my feelings and beliefs.

The matter of so-called courage.

“Women have courage, you know. I never would have walked up to you in that restaurant,” I admitted.

“Why not?” She asked quietly.

“Because I would be afraid,” I said. “Afraid to make a fool of myself.”

Afraid of rejection. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of falling in love again.

“You, afraid?”

She didn’t smile. That helped at that moment, believe me.

“I’m as scared as the next man. Some men throw themselves into the work, some men learn…to love their brothers in arms…no matter which side they’re on. Because it’s all so senseless…”

I had to stop there for a moment.

We listened to the sounds of a late winter evening in London. My body quaked inside.

Finally she asked.

“What drives you into battle, Will?”

“No one who shows up there the first day understands anything about life, but after a time, you learn to fear, and with the fear comes the hate.”

She listened very carefully.

“With the fear comes a kind of defiance. That doesn’t sound very attractive. The hate will eat you up inside. It destroys a lot of men. Eventually you learn to accept your fate. Somehow that makes it easier. I don’t know why. Can’t hardly explain it.”

The room was deathly silent, with just the window-sounds to interrupt the stillness.

“In some sense, I’m good at what I do. When I go on a mission, I am never bitter for having been chosen. Actually, I usually volunteered. Most of them other guys were just so damned incompetent. I could see their fate written all over them.”

The words just wouldn’t come out.

I took a deep breath.

“Because there, but for the grace of God, would go a better man than I, and I am sick to death of seeing good men die.”

I choked up for a time. Get a grip, Tucker, get a grip.

Yes, Jennifer. I’m a born killer. The hell is that I know it. I’m fucking good at it.

“When I take on an enemy aircraft, I am perfectly aware that there is a human being inside. I don’t speculate as to their motives. I don’t care where they came from, and I don’t care if they have a wife and kids somewhere.”

“So what drives you into battle?” She asked again.

“The most sinful thing of all,” I patiently tried to explain. “Pride.”

“Pride. In killing?” she gasped.

“Pride in my…work…my boys…my country if you will.” It was so hard to explain this to anyone. “My land, my home, my self…”

A secret kind of self-love, and we all have it.

“No one wants to be labeled a coward. That stubborn pride has killed a lot of innocent people.”

I went on after a moment of thought.

“No man will let his buddy down, if he can help it, and most men suffer the guilt of survival, long after the battle is over.”

“Is that pride?” She asked, in a very subdued and quiet voice.

“It is a kind of unwarranted, stubborn self-love that a man would find hard to give up. Some men strike a kind of bargain with death. If they die, that’s the way it is, and there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing matters anymore when you’re dead.” I patiently went on, for she seemed to be half-understanding what I said. “No one wants to be the first to run away, to back down. To admit that one is wrong. It’s very difficult even for ‘enlightened’ kings and nations. No one wants to lose face.”

You only die once, but no one wants to lose.

No one wants the liability.

“To be labeled a coward?” I raised my eyebrows. “And to live among your fellow men, might be very hard to endure.”

I tried to explain. I don’t know if I succeeded.

“When will the human race ever learn?” She asked.

“Possibly we will someday,” I said hopefully.

The well of profundity was dry.

“When we have evolved?” She asked.

“We have already evolved.” I said.

We have evolved.

“Are you so sure? What makes you say that?”

“When you go to bed at night, do you turn around a couple of times?” I asked.

Her laugh tinkled out.

“So we’re not animals anymore?” She asked seriously.

“Hopefully not.”

“And that proves we’ve evolved?” She asked in confusion, but of course she didn’t get it, she wasn’t of my world.

She hadn’t had some of my experiences.

“It’s better than sleeping with our noses tucked up our asses, isn’t it?”

She smiled sadly. Usually that joke would draw a big laugh in any crowd.

“It’s likely that a mere woman will never understand.” She said, sipping at her tea again.

Putting down the cup, she impulsively reached over to stroke the scars on my face. It felt very nice. Was she petting me like a cat? A puppy? What an irrational thought.

“Don’t ever underestimate the power of a woman.” I said.

“Will…would you hold me please?”

Tears sprung to my eyes.

“Of course, Jennifer.” And she snuggled up and held on tight.

“Will? How did you get so smart?”

She didn’t look at me, but seemed to scrunch up even closer.

Jennifer had the fear. That much was obvious. The fear was not for herself, but for me.

I put that thought aside for later consideration.

“Jennifer, if we’re not careful, Big, Bad, Mean Will Tucker may fall in love with you.” I said, kissing the top of her head tenderly.

“Don’t be afraid to try, Will Tucker.” She said quietly.

“You’re the one with all the guts around here.” I said. “Um, why did you grab my crotch, anyway? I almost fell off the bike.”

“I thought it would take my mind off the terror. But it didn’t work. I had better warn you. I already have fallen in love with you, Will.” She told me in a very small voice, but she still didn’t look up.

“The love of a woman is the greatest gift a man could ever have.” I thought out loud. “And it takes real courage to give that gift.”

I was manfully blinking back tears, but it didn’t seem inappropriate. It didn’t seem inappropriate at all. A long, quivering breath.

“I think you need a good, long rest, Will Tucker.” She said, finally looking deep into my eyes for some kind of long, unspoken communication.

Guts all shaky inside.

Water ran down my face and I ignored it. Shivering, like with cold.

“Uh, uh, please don’t hurt me…Jennifer.”

I ground it out as best as I could.

“I’ll look after you.” She said as she stood up.

She grabbed my hands and without further discussion, led me to the bedroom, with me bawling my eyes out the whole way. There was one or two things I didn’t tell Jennifer. She didn’t need to know them. One of which is that fear, real fear, turns a man’s guts to liquid.

But with her, I wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

END