Chapter 36: An unwilling participant in a road trip Later on in the semester, getting on towards Thanksgiving, one Saturday just

before lunch I was trudging towards home in the cold. It was raining, I had not brought either an umbrella or a hat, and I was all the way across campus from my dorm. I was cold and wet and in a fairly dark mood. I had gone to the library to get a copy of Art of Rhetoric by Aristotle in Greek, but all copies were checked out. A yellow AMC1 Gremlin screeched to a halt next to me. Hop in! Toni called out, opening the passenger door. I got in, thinking she was offering me a ride home, but then she did a u-turn across West End to zoom to take me away from my dorm. She zoomed a few blocks away from my dorm and slammed on the brakes screeched to a halt in front of Macks,2 a diner Id frequented before. Henry Baida, time for you to buy me lunch, she said, emphatically. I followed her in. She was wearing tight Levis, a yellow plastic waist-length hooded raincoat, like the top part of the throwaway rain suit tugboat deckhands wear, and preposterously tall black satin high heels. She trotted through the rain to the front door as easily as if she were wearing sneakers. There wasnt a hostess, so we sat at a table near the window. Nobody seemed to be paying attention on a rainy Saturday until Toni took off her yellow slicker, revealing a red, white and blue tube top that was barely decent and attracted the attention of everyone in Macks. The two waitresses, idling near the swing door into the kitchen, whispered to each other about her briefly before one of them came over to see what we wanted. The waitress was a Baptist-looking woman in her forties and didnt fit into her uniform. Id never been around Toni alone before. It was weird. She ordered a bottle of Schlitz and I asked for ice water. She looked at me intently after the waitress left. So are you interested in me? she asked. Sexually, I mean. Excuse me? I asked. Do you want me? she asked. I had to think. In the most general sense, I understand that youre extremely attractive. Several guys I know have said that youre gorgeous and they would love to have sex with you. But not you? she asked. No, not me, I said. So its true what they say, that youre gay?

1 2

American Motors Company. It used to be a big car manufacturer, like Ford and GM. The sign out front said Macks Fine Foods and Fresh Vegetables Daily.

Not so far as I am aware, I said. Then why dont you want to fuck me? she asked. Everybody wants to fuck me. Im not sure what to do when they dont I just dont, I said. But why? Because youre crazy, I said. At this point the waitress came back to take our food order. Toni ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and fries and I got a chefs salad with Italian dressing. No, Im not, she said. Youre not what? Im not crazy, she said. Let me rephrase that, I said. Okay, she said. She smiled and perched her chin on her hands in that way girls do. Because youre stark raving mad, I said. No, Im not. She frowned a little girl frown, lower lip stuck out. Yes you are. Youre not a psychiatrist, Henry. I have moderate obsessive-compulsive disorder with a tendency towards hoarding behavior. No biggie. Whatever you have, its severe, not moderate, I said. Youre overreacting. You and Rob made me sit between you every class my first year, and youre pretty much doing the same thing this year, I said. Oh, dont read too much into that, she said. I dont. But you said you thought I was crazy, she said.

I do. Thats reading too much into a personal quirk, she said. No, its not. Its making a sensible deduction from available data. The waitress arrived with our food. Hers was steaming. We each took a few bites. But you think I m smart? she asked. Brilliant. Smartest person Ive ever met. And pretty? she smiled sweetly. Beautiful. And attractive? here, to make a point, she kind of cupped her hands under her breasts and sort of pointed them at me. The waitresses, watching from the kitchen door, frowned at this. Gorgeous, I said. But you dont want to have sex with me? she said. No, I said, chewing my salad. Why? Because youre crazy. I thought wed been over all of that, she said. Not really, I answered. But I told you Im not crazy. Youre wrong, I said, eating my salad. The Italian dressing was weird, like it had saccharine in it or something. Maybe blue cheese next time.3 Im telling you, Im completely normal, except for the OCD thingamajig. Plus my therapist says Im a little more focused on my libido than most people. Theres nothing crazy about any of that. I dont believe you for a second. But allow me to raise a second point. Youre not really interested in having sex with me, are you? She took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich and thought for a few seconds.
3

Ranch dressing hadnt been invented in 1974.

Well, no, she said. I mean, maybe, some day, but right now my needs are pretty well taken care of. And I wouldnt want to upset poor Rob with more than he could handle. Right, so, whats the point of this tedious Toni-like conversation about whether Im interested in you or not? Well, I mean, most boys are. And its a little off-putting that youre not. You almost make this insane conversation sound sane. I am sane! she said. No youre not. Youre stark raving mad, and I wish youd keep that in mind. And by the way, in a more sensible universe trying to talk a guy youre not interested in into being interested in having sex with you would be all the proof of insanity a person would need. What will it take to get over this insanity hurdle? she asked. It really doesnt matter, I said. I wasnt looking at her, because I was trying to load my fork with an ideal combination of egg, ham, and iceberg lettuce, then sprinkle a tiny bit of salt on it. Why not? she asked, with a puzzled expression. I looked up as she shoved an impressive handful of ketchup-covered fries into her mouth. Given the volume, it should have looked awkward but she was smooth and graceful. You couldnt even tell her mouth was full. She chewed a few times and swallowed as daintily as if swallowing a sip of expensive white wine. Even if we cross the crazy hurdle, I said, its followed in just a few yards by the difficult hurdle, then the demanding hurdle, followed by the insistent and bossy hurdle, after which wed start realizing that difficult was an oversimplification that, when parsed out, revealed a lengthy series of other hurdles that had been lumped together on initial observation but upon more extensive analysis each deserved its own, separate, hurdle, and the length would keep multiplying, like the number of points of distance between Achilles and the finish line. You say no more obstinately than most boys, she said, dredging her last quartet of fries in ketchup them re-salting them. Its kind of cute. Do you get a lot of no? I asked. She ate her fries and smiled in satisfaction before answering.

Actually, no. You may be the first. I was an only child. My mother has always been crazy. Shes convinced I can do no wrong. Even I am aware that this is a misperception. Well, youve got that going for you, I said. I waved for the check. Toni drained her beer. As the waitress arrived with the check, Toni stuck her thumbs into her tube top and hoisted it up a few inches. This caused lots of shifting around of the tube tops contents, and the waitress eyes widened in reaction. Toni didnt notice. After I paid the check, and left a bigger tip than I generally would, we scampered back to Tonis Gremlin. It was still raining, a kind of steady cold drizzle. I live in McTyeire, I said. I have to go get Rob, she answered, cranking the car, and we sped off in the wrong direction. If she was aware in any way that there were other cars on the road the way she drove didnt show it. She took a circuitous route to West End Avenue then zoomed into traffic without appearing to look to see if thee were any oncoming cars. Drivers in both directions had to slam on their brakes to avoid killing us. She pulled into a parking lot near McGill Hall and stopped, not taking a parking space. She leaned on the horn for maybe sixty seconds straight. Passing pedestrians frowned in irritation. She didnt notice. I take it youre not going up? I asked. Going up for what? she asked, confused. To get Rob. Why would I do that? she asked. Would you come down if Rob sat in the parking lot and honked for you? I asked. No, of course not, she said, shaking her head in irritation. But you expect Rob to come down when you do the exact same thing? I asked. Oh, for fucks sake, Henry, she said. Rob, umbrella in hand, showed up maybe five seconds later so I got out to let him in on my side of the car. It was a two-door. He agreeably took the back seat and leaned noticeably sideways. Hi, Henry. He didnt seem at all surprised to find me in the front seat of his girlfriends car on a Saturday afternoon.

From the McGill parking lot Toni turned back into West End traffic, again without appearing to look, and zoomed off in the opposite direction from my dorm. With Toni you didnt know what she saw and what she missed, so it was unclear whether she thought she was taking me home or not. So, youre not taking me home? I asked her, after a few minutes. No, she said. Where are you taking me? I asked. Theres a football game today, she said. Oh, heck yeah, I forgot, said Rob. The football stadium is behind us, I said. Were playing UT4 in Knoxville, she said. What time does the game start? I asked, looking at my watch. It was just before two. Seven, she said. I was turned sideways so I could see both Toni and Rob. Rob shrugged. Okay, I said. It takes right around three hours to drive to Knoxville. Less if youre in a hurry. Yes? said Toni, pulling onto the freeway. So youre going to be getting to Knoxville at around five at the latest, I said. So? Toni asked. So theres plenty of time for you to turn around and leave me at my dorm before you guys run off to Knoxville. I really have no interest in watching a football game at all, I said. I was raised mostly in the South but Im not particularly Southern. One way in which I differ from every Southern man Ive ever known is that I could not possibly care less about college football. Even Southern men who go to tiny little schools like Elon or Millsaps that have no football scholarships will be quite aware, fifteen years after they graduated, of their schools conference standings during football season. If they go to a big one like Georgia or Tennessee theyll have a maniacal preoccupation with where their
4

Under these circumstances, UT means University of Tennessee. Ive been told that in Texas theres a different meaning.

team fits into the top 25 and whether their head coach is the right man for the job. If they went to Alabama theyll drive crimson cars and wear crimson pants and hounds-tooth hats. Its insane. No, I think you should go to the football game, said Toni. This is our traditional in-state rival. I disagree, I said. What are you going to be doing instead? she asked. Not going to a football game. Dont you like Rob and me? she asked. No, I answered. Youre just saying that, she said. No Im not. You two drive me crazy. Why? Because youre stark raving mad, I answered. Henry, weve been through that, she said. We didnt go through anything. There was a conversation in which we disagreed. But I was right, she said. No you werent. But you didnt disagree with me, she said. Yes I did. I disagreed with every word you said. Well, were too far away to turn back now, she said. We hadnt even passed the airport. No, were not, I said. Just pull over and let me out on the side of the road. I can walk back from here. That would be terribly unsafe, Henry. You might get hit by a truck.

I might survive that. I dont think I can survive a full day of the two of you. Oh, dont be a killjoy, she said, and turned on the radio. She immediately pressed a cassette tape into the feeder and bouncy dance music blared through the speakers. I could feel Rob wake up in the back seat and start moving to the music. I glanced back and he was waving his arms around. What is this? I asked. The music? she asked. Yes, or course, I said, exasperated. Disco! she said. What the fuck is disco? Dance music. Its in all the clubs! she said. Its wretched, I said. Henry, do you like any music at all? she asked. I had to think. I dont seek it out, I said. So in this as in so many other ways your opinion is full of shit, she said. Try to dance along, she said, extending her hand at me in time with the music. I didnt respond the way she wished, so she plucked my hand from the Gremlins armrest and began flapping our hands back and forth as though part of a dance routine. I had little to contribute to this process. Oh, youre so difficult, she said. Cant you dance? No, I said. Not at all. Not in the least bit. Not one little whit. None. Have you tried? she asked. Of course not. Why not? she asked. Because I have no interest whatsoever in dancing. Oh, thats silly, she said. Everybody can dance. Even Rob can dance. Just look. I turned around to look, and Rob was gyrating and waving his arms in the back seat more or less oblivious to the fact that I was staring at him. Thats dancing? I asked.

In a way. I managed to let go of her hand. Her cassette tape was maybe fifteen or twenty minutes per side of this stuff. The songs were indistinguishable to me. She played that same tape the whole trip over to Knoxville. Over an over. I had been pretty sick of it the first time around. It was maddening. Toni, though, was bopping to it pretty much the whole way. Over and over and over. I had nothing to read. I stared out the window, trying to concentrate on my misery, but after a few minutes fell into a reverie that allowed me to largely ignore Toni and her shimmying tube top and her music. I had been back and forth on this stretch of highway many times in the past. Id spent more time in Alabama and Georgia in my hustler days than in Tennessee, but there are plenty of boys willing to play pool for a little money in Tennessee, so I knew my way around. Plus, when I was just starting out those little towns in East Tennessee were the closest labs I had to see what worked. There was a pool table close to pretty much every exit we passed, and I had played them all. It may have been the first time I missed playing pool. Mrs. W once told me that I was too isolated from the rest of the world. She said that if I did the same things I ordinarily did, but did them with others, I would enjoy the experience more. I must say this particular afternoon gave me reason to doubt her, something I do not believe I had ever done before. We were reaching the outskirts of Knoxville. Whats the plan? I asked Toni. She was still interacting energetically with her cassette tape. Plan? she asked. Yes, plan, I said. Do you have one? For what? she asked. To see this football game. What kind of plan are you talking about? she asked, puzzled. Do you have tickets? I asked. No. What we do is we go find my friend B.B., then we buy tickets, she said. Where are you going to meet B.B.? I asked.

Oh, give it a rest, she said. You men are so difficult about this list-making, task-oriented behavior. B.B. and I just go to the place and work it out, like women have always done. So you dont have a meeting place? No. Or a time, for that matter, Mr. Smarty-pants. All this appointments and schedules bullshit is such a phallo-centric preoccupation anyway. What is it with you boys and this hierarchical shit? I looked over my shoulder to check on Rob. The music was still going, although at lower volume. He seemed to be striking poses that he thought captured something from the lyrics. Maybe he was practicing to be a model. Do you know how to get to the stadium? I asked. She frowned. Its up here, somewhere, isnt it? she asked, pointing eastward on the freeway. Okay, if you take Exit 387 and go towards Dale it will get you over towards campus, I said. Why should I believe you? she asked, suspiciously. Because I know where I am and you dont, I said. She frowned, but didnt say anything and a few minutes later when the exit came up, she took it. She was going to park in a lot. Okay, I have a suggestion, I said. Its just after five. Lets go find your friend, Rob can circle the block, or something with a bigger circumference than a block, while we find her, then we can go eat somewhere other than the stadium and then park somewhere to the west of the stadium. Uncomprehending stare. That way, I said, pointing. If we park here were going to be stuck in traffic for hours after the game. Toni scowled and looked at Rob. So you can drive the car around and not get lost? she asked him Yeah. Sure. Cool, he said. We got close to the stadium, then Toni and I hopped out, Toni grabbed a long navy blue wool overcoat out of the back seat, and Rob ran around to the drivers seat and took over. Why do I have you along for this? Toni asked, putting on her overcoat. For what? I asked. For finding my friend B.B., she said. I dont need a man along for that. I do it every week, no males involved,

You dont need me. Im sticking close to you because you and Rob are both crazy and I need a ride back to Nashville. If you start to pick up a new guy and leave Rob circling the block forever I can shoo the new guy away to protect my ride home. She thought about this for a minute. So you think if youre watching me, it affects what I do? A Heisenberg kind of a thing? she asked, puzzled. Not entirely. Observation doesnt have to impact your results for my observation to be effective. If you pick up a new guy, hed give me a ride to the bus station just to get rid of me, I said. As long as I can get to a bus or a train station, Im good, and as long as Im with you that seems likely. Otherwise, we get back in the car and I have a ride. If you disappear theres no telling what Rob will do, and I might not have a ride home. She frowned but didnt stay anything. Her intention of finding her friend B.B. with what seemed like minimal attention to details like meeting places or times seemed to me to be doomed to failure, but wed been walking in the broad lawns surrounding Neyland Stadium for less than ten minutes amongst a sea of people wearing Tennessee orange when a small, slender, darkcomplected, sedate-seeming young woman appeared next to Toni. Group sister! Toni exclaimed, and they hugged. They talked for several minutes, Toni rapidly, B.B. more deliberately, but I couldnt make any sense of it. B.B. had beautiful sparkling black eyes and long lustrous black hair, a tiny waist and a perfect figure and was obviously insane. No mistaking it. Henry, this is my friend B.B., Toni said. Beatriz Fonesca, she said, somewhat shyly, extending her hand. Henry Baida, I said, shaking her hand, briefly. Her hand was cold. She was wearing a grey wool overcoat but it wasnt buttoned up. It was lots colder than it had been in Nashville. Tickets! said Toni. You need tickets? asked a short round man standing nearby. The position of his lower lip suggested Skoal might be involved. Four, said Toni. Wait, I said. Do you have a date? I asked B.B. I was thinking we might need to buy a ticket for her date, if she had one. Henry, you asshole, youre her date, said Toni. Four please, she said to the scalper, reaching for her wallet.

Hey, I said to B.B. Pleased to meet you. Henry. I stuck out my hand again. Im Beatriz, she said simply, and smiled. Hang on, I said. Toni was about to start pulling money out of her wallet. Im sorry, but Im just too cheap to allow that kind of thing to happen. I reached over and placed my arm between Tonis willing-to-pay hands and the scalper. Yo, I said. Who are you? asked the scalper. Her lawyer, I said. We had a deal, he said. Fuck your deal. Where are the tickets? The ones the lady bought are in the end zone, he said. How much per? I asked. Twenty-five, he answered. Oh, for Christs sake, I said. You should be ashamed of yourself. Hey bud, lady was willing to pay. What else you got? I managed to get four on the Tennessee side near one of the forties for fifteen a hit. I paid, but I frowned at Toni, so it wasnt exactly chivalrous. But we cant cheer if were on the Tennessee side, Toni complained. That wont be a problem, I said. Why not? Because were not going to have much to cheer about, I said. Beatriz put her hand to her mouth and smirked or giggled or laughed or something behind it. You said you didnt like football, Toni said. I just dont give a damn about it, I said. So why are you so sure were going to lose?

The line is were fourteen point dogs. Beatriz whispered something into Tonis ear, and Toni whispered something back to her. She may have been explaining what being a fourteen point underdog meant. So how do you know that if you dont like football? she asked. You dont have to like football to know how to gamble. So youd bet against us? Youd bet on us to lose? she asked, exasperated. Actually no. This week Id bet on us to cover. But thats not because I love my school. I just generally bet on the dog in college if the spread is more than ten and the teams have similar records more than halfway through the season. That spread makes it a pick em to me, but you dont bet a tie. She frowned at this. Gambling isnt physics. Its math. So you think theres going to be a tie5? In the theater of pure reason, yes, but that almost never happens. All I have to decide is whether I think were going to cover, and I think we will. Beatriz did her laugh-behind-the-hand deal. She was wearing what looked like very tall riding boots of some sort over extremely tight jeans and some kind of dark wool overcoat over a floppy wool turtleneck. It had been warmer when I left my dorm that morning, and I noticed that everyone but me seemed to have gloves. So you gamble on football games? Toni asked. Some. Not much. Are you successful? she asked. Yes. I wouldnt do it if I werent. Unsuccessful gambling has another, more popular name. What? she asked. Losing money. So if youre successful at it why dont you do it all the time? she asked. Your boyfriend is circling the block and Im getting hungry, I said.

The NCAA didnt adopt the overtime rules until 1996. Before then, if the game was tied after four quarters, it stood as a tie on the record books. This would have been true in a bowl game between teams ranked No. 1 and No. 2 in the country.

So you dont want to answer the question? she asked me. So like a man, she said. Beatriz, are you hungry? I asked. Yes, sir, she said. So Toni, you, a crazy person, may not understand the needs of the body, or at least of the stomach, but Beatriz and I are hungry and poor benighted Rob is circling Knoxville hoping to see again the sight of your lovely face. Beatriz did her laugh thing again. Lets go flag down Rob. Theres a good barbecue place just a few miles from here. You eat barbecue? I asked Beatriz. She smiled and nodded. We embarked towards the arranged meeting spot with Rob. B.B. I cant believe you sided with Henry over me, Toni said. Were going to talk about this in Group, believe you me. We stood at the agreed-upon corner for maybe seven minutes before Rob pulled up in the Gremlin. He smiled and made a move as if to give Toni a welcome kiss, but she didnt notice. Beatriz and I piled into the back, her first. Where am I going? Rob asked, sensibly. Oh, for Christs sake. You men, said Toni. Stay to the left here, take the first left at 158, I said. Cool, Rob said. After that turn look for Kingston Pike. Turn left. Buddys is on the right, maybe three or four miles down the road. How do you do this? Toni asked. Do what? Well, fuck, there are several things. This whole trip you seem to have had this whole AAA tour guide thing going on in your head, where no matter where we go you seem to know where you are. Whats up with that? I live here? I said. Youre from Knoxville? she asked. No. But Im from Chattanooga, another town in Tennessee, and we Tennesseans, we get around.

So why do you know your way around Knoxville? I used to play pool for a living, I said. Before I went to college, Id drive around looking for pool tables where people liked to gamble. There was a bar with a pool table close to Buddys but they didnt serve food, so I would stop at Buddys before I went in. How can you play pool for a living? she asked. You bet people for money that you can beat them at a game. Generally nine ball. I think youre making this up, she said. I cant believe you can make money playing pool games. Odd how the limitations of peoples experience makes it hard for them to accept factual statements made by people they have no real reason to distrust. I was about to conversationally throw up my hands when Beatriz spoke up. No, hes right. I saw him win a lot of money one night, Beatriz said. What? Toni and I said, in unison. I just saw Mr. Baida play pool for money once. A lot of money. And he won. So I know hes right. That he does play for money. I had craned around to look at her. She didnt look at me, though, she was looking at Toni. Where? I asked. I cant remember the name. My friend Jayden was going out with a boy named Frilla I think it was who was a KA and Jayden had never been out with a fraternity boy before and shes kind of sensitive about things and they were going to go to Elliston Place Soda Shop for dinner and then go over to this bar nearby after for maybe to have a beer because Ellistons doesnt serve beer but Jayden doesnt drink much and she looks and kind of dresses like she might be a member of a sorority but shes really shy like me and she hasnt been on many dates, like, she didnt date at all in high school but all these boys are asking her out now and shes really anxious about it so she asked me to come and like hang around in the bar he was going to take her to after dinner just to make sure that nothing bad was going on kind of like an invisible chaperone kind of a thing and then I was just sitting there on this barstool and then these pool games seemed to just happen and everybody seemed to get really really interested in them and a Girl Scout is always prepared and observant so I watched and Henry was one of the three guys playing and I think he won all the money. How much money? Toni asked. I dont remember, said Beatriz.

Estimate, said Toni. Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots, said Beatriz. Toni frowned at me. Rob had found his way to Kingston Pike and we were nearing Buddys. Up here on the right, I said. Rob pulled in. It was lots more crowded than it had been any other time Id been to Buddys, and most of the patrons were wearing their bright orange game-day clothes. The line at the counter was kind of long, and the four of us took our places at the end of the line. We stared at the menu board in silence. I was thinking, though. Toni had said I was Beatriz date. Sow what I was thinking was You know, I really dont have a lot of experience dating. It was warm inside so Toni elected to take off her overcoat. By removing her coat she changed from being a girl in line at a barbecue joint to Miss October in a tiny tube top, skintight jeans and spike heels. Men all over the restaurant stared, and wives all over the restaurant frowned. What are you going to have? I asked Beatriz. She seemed startled that Id spoken to her. Um, whats good? she asked. I like the barbecue. Its Alabama-style, which you dont get much in Tennessee. And I like the hush puppies She nodded seriously and studied the menu board some more. I get the hush puppies with the dinner, si? The si was strange. She didnt have a trace of an accent. Yes, but the dinners are a lot of food. I generally get a sandwich and a side. She nodded intently. Behind us Toni was telling Rob what he was going to order so that if she didnt like what shed ordered she could swap with him, a process that would have driven anyone other than Rob over the edge and around the bend in one fell swoop.6 Where are you from? I asked. Again she jumped as though startled. Um, a small town in south Alabama, she said. Which one? I asked. Um, you havent heard of it, she said. Try me, I said. Wadley? she said. I dont know what I was expecting, but it wasnt Wadley.
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Three in a row.

Ill be damned. I know Wadley. Okay, so the pork barbecue here is very like the cue they have at Speedys Catfish & Barbecue in Dadeville, but they give you more sauce at Speedys. She frowned and shook her head and looked back at the menu board. I always get the fish at Speedys, she said. How about John Boys Smokehouse in Roanoke? Yes? she asked, again with that flash of intensity. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Actually, John Boys is better than Buddys. I think they smoke it longer. The outside is drier but at John Boys the inside almost doesnt need sauce. She narrowed her eyes at this and stared intently at the menu board. Then it was her turn to order. Ill have the half chicken dinner with fries and coleslaw. That comes with hushpuppies? Yes, maam. No beer here? she asked. No maam. With tea. The tea is sweet? Yes, maam. And Lamuriels lemon ice box pie for dessert,7 she said. She started fishing around her purse for her wallet. Ill get it, I said. She reacted not so much as if startled, but as if shed just stuck her finger into a charged light socket. Ill have a large pork sandwich with extra sauce and pickles, a side of hushpuppies and a large glass of water. I paid up and left Toni and Rob to give their painstaking and complex order. Beatriz took off her overcoat before she sat and I noticed that she was wearing two inch platform soles, so she was even tinier than she appeared. Date or non-date? I chose to sit across the table from her. We were at a booth and both slid all the way to the wall. Her eyes were so brown they were almost black. She stared at me intently for a few seconds. Youre the first man Ive met who knew about Wadley, she said. I like Wadley, I said, perhaps a tad cautiously.
7

In case I forget to mention it later, she ate every bit of that, and she wasnt out of my sight once until we got back to Nashville after midnight.

I dont, she said. Whys that? I asked. Were Brazilian, she said. Your family is Brazilian? I asked. At this point Toni and Rob showed back up and slid in next to us. Yes, said Beatriz. So? My skin was not the same color as the other girls. This was important to some people, she said. Yeah, well, south Alabamas not all eaten up with liberals, thats a fact, I said. It occurred to me that parts of south Alabama and south Georgia where I was very much at home might feel different to a small, pretty, smart, dark-skinned Brazilian girl. What the fuck were you doing in south Alabama, anyway? What were you thinking? asked Toni. My father was in the Brazilian Air Force when Brazil declared war on Germany and Italy in 1942. He served with some Americans from Alabama. After the war he went to Auburn. Toni and Rob stared at him blankly. Auburns in south Alabama. Not far from Wadley, I said. They nodded. Go on, said Toni. My mother and father met at Auburn. Both Brazilian, but met at Auburn. They decided they wanted to stay in the U.S. So my father got a job teaching Spanish at Randolph County High. Then later he transferred to Wadley High. You went to Wadley High? I asked. Si. Go bulldogs. Dont they speak Portuguese in Brazil? I asked. Si. So why did they hire your father to teach Spanish? I asked.

They didnt know. Our food came. It was good. We then drove a few miles back towards Neyland Stadium, found a parking space, walked to the stadium, and found our seats. Heres what I remember about that game: 1. 2. Damn, it was cold. I was not dressed for this. You can see a football game so much better from the stands than on TV that it might actually be fun to watch if you could see them that way all the time. You can see the defenses develop, you can see the open receivers. A completely different experience. Toni and Beatriz sat next to each other, Rob and I on the outside. They knew the game waaaay better than Rob or I did. They knew the players names, saw when a blocker had clipped on a runback, yelled at the refs on blown calls, and knew how many of the receivers feet had to be inbounds for a completed pas. I would like to think that I could meaningfully participate in a conversation on most of those issues, but manfully admit that called to task on specifics, would be found wanting. It was really, really cold. That stadium was huge. Somebody told me it held more than 70,000 people. What the Hell? For a football game? Damned if it didnt end in a tie.8 So we more than covered and I won all of my bets. It was fucking cold.

3.

4. 5. 6. 7.

After the game I was anxious to get back to Tonis Gremlin in the hopes that it would warm up quickly. I smiled at Beatriz and was about to shake her hand goodbye when Toni said something surprising. Goodbye, Henry, she said. What do you mean goodbye? You have to take me back to Nashville. No, no, no, no, no no. Rob and I are going to go check into the Ramada Inn. B.B. can drive you home. Beatriz gloved hand quickly covered a smile but she didnt seem unhappy. You have a car? I asked Beatriz. She nodded. And youre okay with this? I asked. She nodded her head again. Because if youre not I can just get one of you to drop me off at the Trailways station. She shook her head. Good night, Toni. Good night Rob, I said. All I knew about Beatriz was that she could eat lot and knew more than I did about football, but spending time with her couldnt possibly be worse than being with Toni and Rob.
8

It was maybe 1997 when the NCAA introduced the rules that football games could not end in ties and all the overtime rules came in. I mean, why not?

She turned, presumably in the direction of her car, and left, and I turned to accompany her. When I was about five paces down that path Toni had turned and run after me and had grabbed my elbow. Look. Dont ask B.B. about her stuff, she whispered close to my ear. What stuff? I asked. Beatriz was still kept walking, so there was no need for whispering. Youll see. Or her book. What book? I asked. Shes getting away, Henry. Better catch up. Bye. She turned and ran back towards Rob, high heels and all. I turned and sprinted to catch up with Beatriz. So youre sure youre okay with this? I asked her, when I caught up. She didnt seem to have noticed that I was missing. I kind of got dropped in your lap. Metaphorically speaking. She cocked an eyebrow at me in a deliberate kind of way. It is my duty to be helpful and useful to others, she said. Well youve certainly done your duty by me. I owe you one. She smiled and nodded in this kind of goofy way. She didnt talk much. For an argumentative person Im not really talkative, either, so we walked along in silence. She looked at me every few minutes and smiled, not in a flirty kind of way, but in an approving kind of way. As if she appreciated me for being there, or something. But why? We got to her car eventually. It was in a parking lot on the north end of campus jammed in from all directions. An odd thing: it was a beige Plymouth Valiant that looked almost exactly like the one Id lost in the parking lot of the Hixson Lanes, down to the dents in the right rear quarter-panel. I figured somebody had been through the trunk. I was cold, and when we got in she started it right up to warm us up. She had this odd way of looking at me every few minutes and smiling. Do you mind me asking where you got this car? I asked, after the car began to warm up. Her hand darted to cover her mouth, this time conveying surprise. Um, no! she said, then looked at me intently without saying anything. It took me a few seconds to get it.

Oh, okay, I said. Where did you get this car, Beatriz? I asked. My father bought it for me at an auction in Atlanta, she said, earnestly. I used to have this same make and model a few years ago, I said. What happened to it? she asked. It got towed away in Hixson, Tennessee. Why didnt you go get it? she said. Thats a long story involving a fake name, I said. Meaning you dont want to tell me. She stared at me intently for a few seconds. I stared back. She was nice, but I was flummoxed by her. At sea. My father said the cars at the auction were all seized by the police or by things that were like police departments. She stared at me intently. Not rudely. Just in an unaware-Im-starting-atyou way. So whats a thing thats like a police department? I asked. A sheriffs department, she said, immediately. Gotcha. She looked at me intently across the dark bench-style front seat of the Valiant. Or a highway patrol, I said. State bureau of investigation, she said. FBI? I asked. Not on parking violations. My father heard about the auction and went there to buy me a car because he didnt want my mother to have to drive me all the way to Nashville to go to college and I have been very happy with this car. Okay. So this is probably your car. Okay. Mine now. Yes, it is. I said. I looked around the car to see if it actually looked familiar. It did. In the back seat were three stacks of very neatly piled paper things. The one I could see best, behind her in the drivers seat, looked like newspapers, tied neatly into bundles,

and then somehow buckled in to rear seatbelts that didnt match at all the color of the interior of the Valiant. Whats this? I asked, looking at the neat stacks. Thats my stuff, she said. Toni had said no questions about her stuff. In this unique situation, if perhaps in no other, I found myself willing to trust Toni, so I didnt ask. Everything about the car, interior and exterior, was beige, and the seat belts didnt belong. They were a dark forest green and newer-looking than the rest of the car, obviously installed after manufacture. If it was the same one I had owned, of course, it had no seat belts when I drove it. The stack in the center looked to be a stack of books. On top of the center pile was a paperback-sized medium green hardback with the Girl Scouts trefoil symbol embossed on its cover encased in a large Zip-lock bag. The stack was tied up with what may have been womens stockings, and only the green book in its plastic bag sitting atop the pile didnt seem to be well tied down. It was just resting delicately on top of the pile. I couldnt get a good look at the pile directly behind me, but it looked neat. Squared away. Very tidy, I said. She smiled proudly and put the car in gear. She turned to look at me. My car, she said. Yes, maam, I said. She didnt need help getting over to the freeway so I kept my mouth shut. Near the Kingston exit she spoke. Shed seemed slightly agitated for a few minutes. So I sometimes see something in the paper or a magazine and I think I might want to look at that again in the future so I take that part of the paper or that magazine and I put it in the Newspaper Stack and some day Im going to file it all away in manila folders with two-prong fasteners and sort it all in file cabinets so I can go back and look up all this interesting stuff whenever I want but I dont have time to do the filing now so then when the stack becomes too big to be stable in my back seat I move it into a box and put it in storage. Storage? Si. A storage locker. Wheres your storage locker? I asked. One is at the Stack and Pack in Roanoke and the other at a Public Storage facility in Nashville.

All very orderly. I dont have a process, or even an idea, like that. The only thing I seem to accumulate is books. After Ive read them I dont need them any more as a rule but it seems wasteful to throw them out. Oh, no! Dont want to throw away something you might need later! she said. I dont, I said. Whats your storage mechanism, then, and how do you keep it in balance? she asked. Ive got this friend, Mrs. Wertheimer. In Chattanooga. When Im done with a book but dont want to give it away I send it to her. Shes got this nice big house with lots of bookshelves, and she just keeps my books for me until I need them again. Oh, what a wonderful friend! said Beatriz. But shes married, this friend of yours? Widowed, I said. She nodded seriously and stared at the road for maybe a half an hour. So what are your designs on this Mrs. Wertheimer? she asked. Excuse me? An attractive young widow, a young man she began. Well, Mrs. Wertheimer is a retired high school teacher in her sixties or seventies. Oooooohhh, she said, only she drew it out even longer than that, and nodded. We drove along in silence for another thirty minutes. Shed gotten near maybe the Crossville exit before she spoke again. The middle stack is Books I Should Read. That one doesnt change around too much. So what do you want to read? I asked. Moby Dick, The Web and the Rock, Valley of the Dolls. All novels? I asked. Paradise Lost, everything by Emily Dickenson, the libretto from Parsifal.

Sounds reasonable, I said. She frowned intently at me for a second, then gripped the wheel and concentrated on the road, as best I could tell by the headlights reflecting into her face from the rear view mirror. Near Nashville she spoke up again. Was Mrs. Wertheimer a teacher of yours? Yes. For three years. Geometry, Algebra, and Algebra II. Why do they call it Algebra II? Why not make up a new name? Because people dont like trigonometry. She nodded seriously and resumed her silence. As we were exiting the freeway just a few miles from campus, she spoke up again. I certainly dont, I can tell you that, she said. You dont do what? I asked. I dont like trigonometry. Most people dont. I do. I think its wonderful. I was going to say fascinating but really its too elegantly simple to be fascinating. Its wonderful and useful. But I understand that not everybody sees it that way. She fell silent again. After a few minutes she put up her hand to mask one of her laughs, but I couldnt tell at what. I never had a Mrs. Wertheimer, she said, after a few minutes. Well, shes one of a kind, I said. I had a Father Tom, she said. A priest? I asked. She nodded. He was the sometimes priest at St. Marks in Ashland, she said. Sometimes priest? Yes. He wasnt a diocesan priest. He wasnt really our priest. He was a Dominican monk who sometimes helped out the regular priests. He gave mass when the pastor was on vacation and heard confessions. He was the best. She smiled at the memory. She parked her car without saying anything else. When shed killed the engine she reached around to retrieve the top book from the center pile. When the dome light

came on from opening the door I could see it was an old-looking hardback copy of the Girl Scouts Manual in a plastic bag. She held it as though it was important. I walked her back to Branscomb, her dorm. There was a certain spot on the patio where people kissed after dates. She stopped there and I wasnt sure what was going to happen. We were still standing sideby-side, as though walking down a sidewalk, only we werent moving. She looked at me, then kind of hugged my right arm, then let it go and smiled at me briefly. She walked towards the door, but just before she got there, she turned and said Elegantly simple, gave me a smile and a thumbs-up sign, and vanished into the dorm. I turned to walk home. When I got to the sidewalk Rosie, the waitress from the Campus Grill, walked past me, twirling a majorettes baton with great finesse. She didnt seem to see me. I looked around, and of course there were no witnesses. I sighed and walked on home. It wasnt as cold as it had been in Knoxville.