“A
beautiful cup of coffee for a beautiful lady,” declared the old charmer.
A
smile crept across Latesha’s face as she accepted the cup. They walked to a
table in a dim corner.
Latesha’s
eyes sparkled as she looked at him. “It’s a lovely evening.”
“Very
lovely,” he said. “You look very nice tonight, Latesha.”
“Thank
you. You look nice, too.” She took a sip of the coffee and then closed her
eyes. “Oh, my God. Is this ever good.”
“Is
it?” Peter asked excitedly.
Latesha
took a longer drink. “Oh, my, I think I may be spoiled for life now.” She
laughed. “Want a taste?”
“May
I?”
She
put the cup on the saucer and slid it across the table. Peter picked up the
china cup just the way Latesha had done. A little of her lipstick was on the
cup, and residue of the coffee and cream showed exactly where Latesha had put
her mouth. Peter put his mouth on the same spot, looked at her, and took a
drink.
“Delicious!”
he declared, putting the cup back on the saucer and sliding it back to her.
“It
is so,” she answered, then looked him right in the eye as she put her lips on
the spot where his had just been. She slowly savored the fine blend and then
unexpectedly asked: “Do you think love is a need or a want?”
Peter
was surprised by the question. “Love is a need,” he stated, sitting up straight.
“Why
do you say that?” she asked, her eyes drifting across his mouth.
“People
need to be loved,” Peter said, “and they need to express love. That’s what
makes us human.”
Latesha
folded her hands on the table. “I love my father. You love your mother. Is that
enough?”
“Are
you asking if we need romantic love?”
“Yes,”
Latesha said, watching an endless stream of pedestrians by on the sidewalk. She
suddenly noticed the reflection of Peter’s face on the inside of the window.
“Do we need to simply love, or do we need to fall in love?” she questioned his
reflection.
“We
need to fall in love,” he told her.
After
they finished their coffee, they slowly walked to Peter’s truck. He opened the
door for her.
“I
don’t want to talk,” she said.
Without
a word he drove her to Beechwood and the whole time Latesha looked directly
away from him and stared out the window.
“Let
me out here,” she said, pointing to the bus stop.
“Okay,”
he mumbled.
“Thank
you for the drive.” She gathered her things with a pensive look, then opened
the door, but paused. In the glow of the interior light their eyes met. “I
liked your song,” she said.
“Thank
you. I liked your song.”
“This
is the last time we can ever see each other. I’m not kidding.” She opened her
purse and took out a small plastic bag. In it were two jellybeans, one black, one
white. She got out and laid them on the truck seat. “I wish it could have been
different. I really do. Good bye.”
Latesha
quickly closed the door and started for home. Peter turned to head back toward
the city.
“I
will never see you again,” Latesha lightly mumbled as she walked. A tear rolled
down her cheek in the lonely darkness. “Good bye, Peter Elsworth.”
“Where
were you?” her father asked when she walked in the door. “The bus went through
long ago.”
“I
just got home,” she said.
“How?”
her father asked.
“Someone
drove me.”
“Who?”
“Dad!”
Latesha snapped. “What’s with the twenty questions?”
“Who?”
he repeated.
“Peter
Elsworth,” she said.
He
literally growled. “I told you to stay away from him.”
“The
talent show went late,” she said, “and I missed the bus. He was nice enough to
offer to drive me. What did you want me to do? Take a taxi?”
“You
got him to let you off down by the store,” Mr. Thomas noted with an accusatory
stare. “You didn’t want me to see him.”
“No,
I didn’t, because I wanted to avoid the Grand Inquisition.”
“Stay
away from him,” Mr. Thomas said coldly, wheeling into his room. He then shouted
loudly, “Stay away from him, Latesha!” He slammed his door.
Chapter Eight
As
promised, the next evening at six o’clock Peter arrived at the Beechwood
Community Center. Mary was waiting for him on the step, the door already
opened. She waved and he waved back.
“I
don’t know how we can thank you,” Mary said, walking up to him. “I’m sorry
Latesha couldn’t be here. She called and said she was busy.”
“No
problem,” Peter said, forcing a smile. “I’ll bring my equipment in now.”
Mary
walked into the community center and Peter looked up the road at Latesha’s
house. He could see even from a distance that the living room curtain was drawn
open, but whoever was looking at him allowed the curtain to fall closed. Peter
buckled on his tool belt and carried the materials into the center.
“Anything
I can do to help?” Mary asked.
“I’ll
be fine, but thanks anyway.” Peter looked around the big space. “I see you have
a few new additions.”
“Yes,”
Mary said, pointing at a great quantity of chairs stacked at the back. “Donnie
Strong’s construction company tore down the old hall in Barton and they said he
could have the chairs. He and his sons brought them this morning and said
they’re ours to keep.”
“That
was nice of him.”
“That
was
nice of him,” Mary said with
emphasis. “We were going to have to rent chairs for the play, but this saves us
a lot of money and time.”
Peter
walked over and inspected a large and gleaming red jukebox. “This is really
neat.”
“It
was in the old Barton hall, too.”
“Beautiful,”
Peter said, admiring the finely crafted piece of machinery.
Mary
obviously felt very comfortable with Peter. “Do you have any children, Peter?”
“Not
yet,” he said with a pensive expression. “But I do want a family someday.”
“Teenagers!”
Mary complained, rolling her eyes. “If you ever have children, make sure they
go directly from elementary school to adulthood.”
Peter
laughed and arranged his things on the floor. “Is there a kit for that?” he
asked.
Mary
shook her head. “I wish there was.” She sighed. “I suppose not all teenagers
are the same, but my son is such a challenge. Being a single parent is no walk
in the park.”
“How
many children do you have, Mary?”
“Two
boys. My younger son is a real gift, no work at all, but my teenager is turning
me gray.”
“What’s
the problem, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Mary
leaned against the stage and her voice echoed in the building. “He’s fifteen
and wants to quit school.”
“Not
good,” Peter said.
“I
don’t know what to do anymore. Deon’s aimless. He goes to school every morning,
but as soon as I leave for work, he comes home and plays video games all day.
He won’t do anything constructive and he has no motivation at all. Last week
the principal called and said he may be expelled for lack of attendance.”
“Definitely
not good.”
“What
drives me really crazy is that Deon’s as smart as a whip.”
“How
long has this been going on?”
“Last
year he was fine, but me and his father divorced in May. He pays child support,
but he moved to Alberta and he’s not in our lives anymore. I think Deon has a
lot of resentment toward both of us.”
“All
you can do is your best, Mary. He’s had a lot to handle and he’s probably a
lost soul right now. When my father died, I wasn’t right for months. And
remember that he’s only a teenager. It’s a tough world at that age. You feel
like you’ve got no control over anything.”
“I
suppose so,” Mary said with a heavy sigh.
Peter
suddenly thought of something. “What’s Deon doing right now?”
“Same
as always, playing video games.”
“He
couldn’t give me a hand, could he?”
Mary
was surprised by the suggestion. “He doesn’t know anything about electrical
work, Peter.”
“I
didn’t know anything when I first started either. I’ll teach him.”
“Wait
here a minute,” she said excitedly, hurrying into the office to use the phone.
Two minutes later she returned with a glum expression. “Thanks for trying.”
“Maybe
some other time,” Peter offered. He walked to the basement steps. “I have to go
downstairs now.”
“Okay,
I’ll putter around up here. Call me if you need anything.” After a few seconds,
she exclaimed, “Oh, Peter, I need you to do something.”
“Yes?”
he said, turning around to face her.
“I’m
starting a new tradition at the Beechwood Community Center. Everyone has to
play a song on the jukebox. You can play one later, if you want, but try to
remember. The whole community has been in and out today looking at it, and
they’ve all played a song. But I still need you and Latesha to make your
choices.”
“All
right,” he said, smiling awkwardly at the mention of Latesha’s name. “I promise
I will before I leave.”
“Thanks.”
Peter
worked in the basement, installing a circuit box, then running new lines. After
that he brought in two banks of colored lighting, which he installed on either
side of the stage, and he set up new switches. He made sure everything was
working properly before finally gathering his things.
“Mary!”
he called out in the big hall.
She
came out of the office with a broom and dustpan. “Yes?”
“I’m
almost finished,” he said. “I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes, but come
look at this, please.”
“Don’t
be in a rush now. You have to have a cup of tea with me before you leave.”
“A
cup of tea sounds great,” Peter said, smiling warmly. “Come look at these switches
and I’ll show you how they work.” When she came up to him, he turned on the
stage lights. “This is pastel lighting for the romantic scenes in your play.”
“Holy
Mother!” Mary exclaimed, gazing at the soft, rich hues. “That gives a whole
different feeling to the space. How much did you pay for all this?”
“I
got everything for free.”
“All
of it?” she asked skeptically.
“All
of it. Don’t tell anybody this, Mary, but I lead a really boring life. I work a
lot of evenings and weekends because I just don’t have anything better to do.
Some contractors let me take things from their stockpiles in lieu of payment. I
got these all these lights in exchange for a few Saturdays last month.”
“We’ll
give them back to you after the play.”
“No,
keep them. They’re yours.” He shrugged. “I have no use for them but they’re
perfect for the community center.”
“They
must be worth hundreds of dollars, Peter.”
“Thousands,
actually,” he said with a smile. “They’re top of the line. Brand new, too.
They’ll work great.” He gathered up his things. “Well, I’d better be going.”
“Will
we ever see you in Beechwood again?”
“I
don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
“Wait
a minute!” she replied. “Our cup of tea.”
“Oh,
right,” he returned with a chuckle. “A cup of tea would be nice.”
Peter
followed her into the office.
“Any
preference?” Mary asked, looking back over her shoulder.
“My
favorite is Red Rose,” Peter said, “but I’m willing to experiment.”
Mary
opened a high cupboard and took out a box of Red Rose Tea. “It’s my favorite,
too.” She removed two Styrofoam cups, put a tea bag in each, then started to
plug in the kettle. Suddenly she stopped and looked at Peter. “It’s okay,
right?”
“It’ll
be fine,” Peter said with a laugh.
Mary
plugged in the kettle and then sat down at a small table across from him. She
instantly began talking in a comfortable way, interrupting their conversation
only when the kettle boiled. As she poured the steaming water, Peter listened
with great interest as Mary described the various fundraisers that had been
held, the thousands already spent on renovations, and the upcoming play, the
supposed crown jewel in the Grand Opening of the new Beechwood Community
Center.
“How’s
it coming?” he asked.
“Terrible,”
she said, cringing. “It’s so not ready. The last director,” she lowered her
voice even though they were alone, “just between you and me, he liked the
bottle. He was missing practices, falling asleep, slurring his speech. To watch
him in action, you would have sworn
Romeo
and Juliet
was a comedy.”
Peter
laughed and sat back in his chair.
“But
Latesha is taking over and she’ll be great,” Mary proclaimed.
Though
he resisted it, just hearing Latesha’s name sent tingles of electricity through
his body. “Yes, I’m sure she’ll be very good. She’s obviously a very talented
person.”
“Around
here people call her the princess of Beechwood, you know.”
“I
didn’t know that.”
“Isn’t
she pretty?”
“Yes,”
Peter said immediately. “She’s very pretty. She’s beautiful.”
“Even
when she was a little girl she was beautiful. Everyone said that. And she’s a
sweetheart, too. That’s what makes her so special.”
“She’s
a very nice person,” Peter agreed.
“The
man who gets her is going to win the lottery.”
“Does
she ever date anyone?” Peter suddenly asked, though he tried to sound casual.
“She’s
too busy with school and taking care of her father.”
“How
does she have time for this play?”
“I’m
sure she doesn’t. She’s feels obligated.”
“She’s
got her hands full.”
“To
say the least,” Mary responded, rolling her eyes. “The biggest problem is the
main characters. Everyone else is great and they’ve all got their lines down,
but Juliet is terrible. She couldn’t remember a word to save her life. The old
director had no choice, so he told her she could carry the lines on stage and
read them.”
“Read
them off the page?” Peter asked incredulously. “During the performance?”
“Yes,”
Mary said. “And if that’s not bad enough, she has this stick figure kind of
presence and she reads like a robot. I mean she really sounds like a machine
with this dreadful monotone voice. Know what I mean? Like when someone has a
cold and they’re sniffling.” Mary laughed hopelessly. “It’s horrible. A car
wreck. Painful to watch.”
“What
about Romeo?”
“Don’t
have one.”
Peter
raised his eyebrows. “The play is in ten days and you don’t have a Romeo in
Romeo and Juliet
?”
“Wherefore
aren’t thou?” Mary said with a hopeless gesture. “It’s a long story, Peter. If
it wasn’t for the legality of it, I’d suggest they cancel the whole thing.”
They
heard the front door open and someone entered, though they had no idea who it
was.
“In
here!” Mary called out.
“She’s
got a monumental challenge ahead of her by the sounds of it,” Peter said
gravely. “A play isn’t like television. It’s live and in living color.”
“I
know,” Mary said with a moan.
To
Mary’s surprise and Peter’s shock, Latesha appeared in the doorway and then
slowly walked into the office. Peter immediately stood up, his throat
tightening. Latesha was wearing a dark green dress gathered at her waist by a
gold belt, an African print vest dominated by dark red and black tones, two
golden bracelets around her right wrist, black shoes, and blue beads woven into
her hair.
“Hello,”
Peter stammered like a shy school boy who has a secret crush.
“Hi,
Peter. Hi, Mary.”
Mary,
sensing an electrical current flowing between them, quickly stood up. “I have
to go check on something. Be back shortly.” She walked out of the office.
“You
look really nice,” Peter said.
“Thank
you.” Latesha’s expression was impossible to read. “We have a practice for the
play this evening. This is my first session as director.”
“Good
luck.”
“I
was wondering,” she said, “if you could figure how to get the stage lights
working. Apparently most of them keep flickering.”
“They’re
fixed,” he said. “I even added two rows of pastel lighting that should work
well during some of the scenes.”
Latesha
looked overwhelmed. “Oh?”
“Mary
will show you how they work.”
An
awkward moment passed and though they tried not to look at each other, they
didn’t know what to do with their eyes.
“So,”
Latesha continued, a slight squeak in her voice as she looked around the
office, “how’s everything going?”
“Everything
is going well. How about you?”
“Everything’s
fine,” she mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Good.”
They
were both looked relieved when Mary returned. “Mary,” Peter said, “I noticed a
problem.”
She
froze. “I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
“The
electrical will pass now,” Peter said, “but there are only two doors in this
building.”
“And?”
Mary asked.
“Before
I took my current job, I worked with inspections. If you’re going to fill this
place with people for the play, fire code states that you need at least four
exits.”
Mary
furrowed her brows. “Oh, no.” She lowered her head, put her right hand over her
eyes and groaned. “Please, not more bad news. This is too much.” She looked up
at him with a mixture of hope and resignation. “It’s never been a problem
before.”
“I
don’t mean to be the bearer of bad tidings, but ever since that fire over in
Marshall County, everything is by the book now. If you have the play, you’ll
need four doors.”
Mary
threw her hands in the air. “Maybe we should just give up, Latesha. It’s one
problem after another. They make things so hard.”
Latesha
shook her head. “It’s too late to turn back now.”
“We
can’t afford doors and a carpenter. The account is empty.”