Chapter 11
eleven
Setting Fire To My Heart Of Coal
Jim
-Bang bang bang bang bang-
“Jesus Christ,” glancing at the clock, saying it's thirty minutes after ten. Opening the door, not even having a shirt on yet, I caught David about to bang again. “You’re early,” I growled, then turned around leaving the door open so he could welcome himself in.
“You are even grumpier than you were yesterday morning. You should be excited,” as he bounced in place like fucking Tigger from that child’s book, a giant smile showing all his teeth, hyper as hell.
The bruise seemed darker now on his cheek, with brown-reddish splotches in the center.
It extended up to his temple and up into his eyelid, lightning the farther up it went.
The swelling had gone down but still looked a bit puffy.
His look didn’t match his current personality, between his menacing size and current injury and his excitable character.
“I read in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette this morning a review of the movie and it sounds so good.” Then quickly changed the topic, “Do you have coffee made?”
“Help yourself, it just might not be hot anymore,” as I walked out of the kitchen to go hunt for a shirt so we could leave. Containing David here while being this excited won’t have a good outcome, especially after he guzzles down probably his third or fourth cup of coffee of the day in my kitchen.
When I returned fully clothed, David practically had coffee dripping down his chin, cup tilted in a drinking position not paying attention. “Want a straw?”
Startling him, he bounced, the cup hitting his face and what little of the coffee that was left ending up on the floor, barely missing him. “Ouch! You jagoff! I already have a bruise.”
“Oops,” smirking that I finally did to him what he usually does to me. “Speaking of the bruise, how did your mother react?” I asked, while I cleaned up his spill.
As he was pouring another cup of coffee, “She almost didn’t let me leave the house this morning to go to the city.
Not because I was hurt, which was a whole different overreaction in itself,” swinging the coffee kettle in his hand, needing to add a hand gesture to make his point, “but because it could ruin my father’s reputation at the court house if anyone saw me. ” He rolled his eyes.
His father worked in the courthouse as a Custodian, maintaining the building, so David’s sarcastic reaction is understandable. Who is going to care that a janitor’s son had a black eye?
“Chug that coffee, and let’s get going. I don’t want to get into the movie when it’s already too far along. That drives me insane,” I said, as I grabbed my key and wallet from the counter.
Living on top of a mountain isn’t all it’s cracked up to be if you don’t have a car because it makes getting to the city a long trek.
Either we would have to walk down the terrifying mile long, one thousand step Indian Trail Stairs or take the Monongahela Incline down for a nickel, then another fifty cents to hop on a trolley at the station at the bottom that would take you to the middle of the city.
David and I were going to take the Incline down. Fuck the stairs. Other than occasionally going out with David after a day at the mine for beers, I rarely do anything, so affording the fares isn’t a problem.
In all, it took us forty minutes to get to the beautiful and massive Stanley Theatre on Seventh Street. It holds thousands of people. David was vibrating with joy, acting like this was his first movie.
After paying the forty-cent balcony ticket to see ‘Rebel Without A Cause’, starring James Dean, and treating myself to popcorn and Coke-a-Cola for ten-cents each, we walked into the movie right in the middle of the action.
James Dean’s character was being confronted by some jerk it seemed, wanting to race him all because he was the outcast new kid in town and had been flirty with his gal. David plopped down in an aisle chair, bouncing, making me have to slip by him to the next seat.
After the movie was over, ending in a police chase and someone dying, it immediately started over, so we stayed and watched what we had missed in the beginning until we got to the part we came in during and got up to leave.
Walking out of the theatre, standing under the big marquee all lit up with light bulbs spelling Stanley Theatre, with a black background sign below it stating the name of the movie in white block letters.
I was in a better mood. The movie was really good. That James Dean actor is clearly very talented. I can see him having a long career. David is jabbering away next to me, about the movie, doing all the talking for us, which was normal.
“That was awesome! I wish we could race a car. It seems so thrilling,” as he wiped some popcorn debris off himself now that he can see it in the light.
“Someone died,” stating a fact even though it wasn’t technically during the race itself.
“You have a point, but I still think it would be thrilling,” looking around at all the people walking by on Seventh Street. “Are you going to make me go get that book with you now,” sounding none too thrilled about it, rolling my eyes.
“I know what I want so it won’t take long. By the way, your disinterest in my hobby is insulting,” I teased as I started to head to the Liberty Avenue and Sixth Avenue intersection. I heard David groan behind me, reluctantly following.
As we were crossing Liberty Avenue, David gasped when he noticed two nicely dressed men standing in the alcove of Stewart’s Hotel, a row building with two red doors and windows above on the second and third floors.
I was familiar with the place. The men were really close with each other. Too close. If the owner ever found out or they were caught like that, it would cause trouble. Especially in daylight on a busy Sunday.
David looked at me with a shocked expression, “Do you think they are–”
But before he could finish that sentence with too many people around, I cut him off, “Don’t. It is none of our business.”
David looked back at them again just as they were going inside together.
I have been there several times. The gentlemen shouldn’t have been loitering outside the door for so long, especially like that.
To distract David, because he is still staring at the now empty alcove, I ask him, “Are you hungry?”
“Oh! Let’s get something down here after we pick up your book before heading back up the mountain,” starting to bounce again.
Mission accomplished.
“I guess the popcorn didn’t do much for you, did it,” but really hoping that this distraction will also keep him from complaining as much when I started to window shop other books while I’m at Kaufman’s. But as usual his mind had already moved on.
“Wow, the ladies are out today,” David states, turning his head to oogle the women that we were passing as they walked away from us. “I need to meet someone. My mom has been on my case.”
“What about Mary? I thought you were crushing on her?” looking over at him, seeing him slump a little.
“Buddy, I’ve been trying to get her to agree to go steady with me for so long now and I am not getting anywhere. She is like a bank vault, that’s locked shut. I can’t crack her,” he complained.
“Maybe don’t describe her as an object that has a keyhole and you are the key,” I smirked at him.
“That had to be the dirtiest thing I think I have ever heard come out of your mouth,” David said in shock but laughing, making me laugh in return.
Turning the corner of Sixth Avenue and Smithfield Street heading to the store, my mind was on David’s dating predicament. “What about Patricia? I think she’s single and a couple years under us?”
“Richard and Dan’s sister,” David practically screamed, heads turning our direction.
“Are you out of your damn mind! I am not marrying into that family and dealing with those two for the rest of my life. It’s already bad as it is,” pointing at his own face and the souvenir he was left with from Friday night.
“Yeah, okay. Good point,” laughing at my own stupidity.
Looking up, I saw the big bronze clock that was stationed outside of the store we were about to go into.
As we got closer, I noticed two people with dark hair that seemed familiar from behind, both wearing plaid button-down shirts and pressed jeans.
When the smaller of the two turned and I saw that it’s Charlie. “Oh my god,” I whispered.
“What?” He looked in the direction I was staring towards. “Oh cool! What are the odds?”
“Not great, you square,” looking at him.
“Mike might not be the friendliest right now after the other night. We don’t know if Charlie got caught.
” Hoping to the heavens they started walking in the other direction before we got to the clock and the door to go inside.
But Charlie is staring up at it, like it’s the coolest thing he had ever seen, rightly so.
The clock was a masterpiece of engineering.
Mike was still facing away from us, watching an orange and white trolley pass by, then looked up at the massive building itself.
I could see him say something to Charlie, so when he looked down to respond, he made direct eye contact like there was no one else in the way on the street.
His smile immediately faltered and his crystal eyes ballooned to three times their normal size.
He turned to grab Mike by the arm to try to get him to walk away but Mike didn't budge, standing firm looking confused about what was happening.
That was when my jagoff best friend decided to make ourselves known by yelling out. “Mike, Charlie,” waving his hand up over his head like he was trying to chaotically hail a cab.
The fucker.