Pushing Leaves Towards the Sun

Wednesday, December 14, 1988
Port Chester, NY

The button fly of Billy’s faded blue jeans was undone and passersby could see the maroon plaid pattern of his boxer shorts briefly as each leg extended while he walked. He didn’t notice. His frozen left shoelace was untied and the laces slapped against the blue Converse All Star hightop on his right foot each time he made a new stride. He didn’t care. He lifted his head to check his reflection in the window of Boomers Bar before his breath fogged the glass. In his one self-conscience act, he tried to drag his fingers though his sandy, shoulder length hair with the expected complete lack of results. The closest he came to caring about his appearance was the brief thought he verbalized to no one in particular, “Whatever.” He continued over the small stone bridge that would take him across the state line.

This was one of the two hardest days of the year; a day that he dreaded. He walked steadily, straight down the sidewalk and he would have bumped into the few other pedestrians if they didn’t make an effort to get out of his way. He remained oblivious. He was the only one outside with his jacket undone, apparently impervious to the winter chill. This was Oso’s birthday and Billy didn’t notice or care about anything in the physical world around him. His body moved but his mind was a million miles away. His boss Derek sent him home from The Fallout Shelter early; the bar where he still sometimes worked. It was a long walk. He almost always drove; either his Jeep—The Ship of Fools, or his motorcycle— Phoenix. Not today. That bike was once Oso’s and he didn’t need to wallow any deeper in his feelings which might as well have been tattooed on his face for his fiancée Lindy to read when he eventually got home. Billy made his way across the short Mill Street Bridge over the Byram River, leaving behind New York State, then found his way to the southern end of South Water Street to their house in the shadow of Interstate 95 high above.

Lindy kissed him as he walked in the entrance door on the side of their house, feeling many of the same feelings for the same reasons. She missed Oso too, her first love, but she had Billy now and she handled her feelings better than he did. Nevertheless, Oso’s birthday only reminded them to miss him just like the anniversary of his death, which came during the summer, over two years ago when Oso took his last motorcycle ride into an unseen parking lot chain.

Lindy tried hard to make the glass half full. Though she too was sad, she pulled the lid off of a big, slow-cooked, spicy beef stew to greet the winter and her sadness while filling her stomach as well as Billy’s. She poured Billy a lumpy bowl full and held it under his nose to let him breathe in the warm meat and vegetable flavored steam. The world’s smallest smile made a brief appearance on Billy’s face. Lindy offered, “Why don’t you take Dog to the mountains tomorrow and get some time on your snowboard? You love to ride. It might cheer you up a little. He called earlier and told me he’d be happy to come down here for you first thing in the morning. I told him you’d call back when you got in.”

Billy’s tiny smile grew incrementally bigger as he looked up at Lindy. He knew he was lucky to have her.

Late Thursday Night

Lindy’s first reaction when the phone rang at 1am was, “Who the hell is waking me up at this hour? This is my one night to catch up on sleep!”

Billy could hear her but the operator cut in, “Do you accept the charges for a collect call from Billy Shepperman?”

Lindy’s throat was dry from breathing through her mouth while sleeping. She swallowed hard and then replied, “Yes.”

Billy started to apologize over the phone immediately, “Sorry honey. I think the clutch broke on my Jeep. The engine runs but I’ve got nothing when I step on the gas.”

“Oh, sorry for snapping at you honey. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Billy continued. It’s just my fucking Jeep that’s not all right.”

Lindy looked at the clock and then the icy edges of the river past the dock outside her window and asked, “Where are you?”

“Somewhere along Route 80 on the side of the road.”

“Are you safe there?”

“The Jeep’s red, well dark red. Passing cars should be able to see it there, well over on the shoulder. Dog and I got a ride to a payphone.”

“Ok, I expected you back hours ago, though. I thought you were coming straight home after snowboarding, but I guess I should have known better. Are you drunk?”

“No,” Billy replied indignantly, and then confessed, “We did have a few beers after most of the mountain closed for re-grooming. But after teasing Dog all day about still being a pussy skier, a kamikaze shot finally gave him the liquid courage to rent a snowboard. Hunter has a ‘gear and go’ rental program for the after work, ride under the lights crowd.”

“The mountain is open this late?”

Billy confessed, “No, Dog pushed snow down the mountain until about 8 or 9pm. I dusted him so many times I got tired of it. So, we returned his gear and found a place to get warm. You’ll never guess who’s performing in Hunter Village.”

“Scuba,” Lindy guessed without hesitation.

“How did you know that? Are you a mind reader?” Billy asked incredulously.

“It’s posted on The Fallout Shelter message board. He’s got a regular gig up there somewhere. I thought you knew that. I hear he’s doing pretty well as a solo act; paying the bills, at least.”

“Yeah, he’s good and seemed to have a strong local following. He asked me to sit in on his bongos for a set and we did some of your early songs together. That mother-fucker even forced me to sing one by announcing it to the crowd before asking me.”

“You really love to sing, as much as you complain about it. I would have loved to have been there for it. I should’ve come up.”

“Well, now’s your big chance. We’re stuck.”

“Shit, how did I know you were going to say that? What choice do I have?”

“We could freeze to death,” Billy complained. “I’ve already been closer to Dog than I want to admit, just to stay warm. Remember that emergency Mexican blanket you make me keep in the back seat? Well, it’s an emergency.” “All right. Give me better directions, and then you owe me, William Shepperman!”

Billy gave it a little thought, then offered, “Head straight up Route 80. Look for my Jeep on the side of the road. If you hit the Catskills, you went too far. Did you ever add me to your AAA membership?”

“A long time ago. That Jeep may have seen its ninth and final life this time. Maybe it’s finally time to let go of the Ship of Fools. I’ll bring my AAA card and yours, which I’ve tried to give you many times.”

“Don’t write my Jeep off so quickly. Read me the towing info. The cop that brought Dog and me here wants my Jeep off the highway shoulder. They’re expecting more snow up here before sunrise. I’m not sure where to get it dropped off. They won’t tow it all the way back to Byram, will they?”

“I doubt it,” Lindy replied. “We don’t have AAA Plus, we just have Basic. They should help you with that when you call them. Just a sec and I’ll get you the info. Now that I’m up and while I’m looking, how are you going to make this up to me?”

“I’ll think of something. You’re the best! You know who isn’t the best, though? Dog—at singing. After I sang If I’m Only Dreaming, Dog got up and sang Screwed at the Drive-thru. The crowd howled, and I think it was Dog’s lack of performance more than the lyrics.”

“All my old material, and it’s getting butchered by people I consider friends,” Lindy lamented.

“Well, If you don’t get here before the snow starts, I’ll get a parking ticket and the police will tow my Jeep—and not to a repair shop.”

“As soon as I dig my AAA card out of my wallet and give you the numbers, I’m on my way.”

“Hold on, the cop has a suggestion,” Billy interjected. “Excuse me, officer Shanle here recommends a transmission place nearby. His buddy Lenny runs it.”
“Is it any good?”

Billy repeated the question to Officer Shanle who replied, “It’s part of a major chain. You know the one with the commercial, ‘Double A—beep, beep…”

Billy shivered and wanted to hurry up so he interjected, “I’m sure it’s fine. Not like I have much choice.”

Lindy was ready to get this over with so she added, “If he knows the address, have him give it to me and I’ll meet you there in a couple hours.”

“You’re the best, Lindy.”

“Just remind me from time to time.”

Lindy threw back the warm covers and slipped her naked athletic body into a pair of flannel-lined jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt. Then, she quickly added two layers of Billy’s sweatshirts, pulling her long auburn hair through the head hole each time she poked through. She found her warmest pair of boots, a fleece, and a waterproof shell before hiking through the night winter air and up the hill to her cold black Dodge Ram pick-up truck.

Friday

It was almost sunrise when Lindy got Billy and Dog back to Byram, Connecticut. Dog loaded his ski gear into his station wagon. Before he drove off, Billy chided, “You’ll be retiring that pussy skiing stuff now that you’ve had a taste of real mountain riding. You’re a snowboarder now.”

Dog replied, “We’ll see how sore my butt is tomorrow.”

Lindy chided, “So Billy, Dog’s butt is sore. Did you two do more than cuddle underneath that Mexican blanket?”

Billy clarified, “He’s talking about how many times he fell learning to stand on a snowboard, wise ass.”

Dog was too tired to be amused, so he put the wagon into gear and added, “This has been fun and all, but I’d like to be in my bed under the cover of darkness. Later gators. Thanks again for the lift, Lindy.”

She waved and was already on her way into the house to get out of the cold.

Billy followed her in and shut the winter out behind them. “Anybody crashing with us tonight?”

“I thought Dog would, as late as it is.”

“You mean early, at this hour,” Billy corrected.

“Right. Well, Roxie won’t be here until tomorrow night. She fammed out to St. Louis to stay with Spy.”

Billy inquired, “Famming is like jumpseating, only for Air Traffic Controllers?”

“You’re the pilot, you tell me.”

“I guess it is. Familiarization flight or something like that. Lets her ride in the cockpit,” Billy agreed. “Well, shit-hot, there’s no one on the couch or in the guest room so it looks like we have the house to ourselves for what little is left of tonight. Get naked. You’re all mine at last.”

“Oh, I plan to get out of these bulky clothes, but touch me and you’ll die,” Lindy commanded. “Like Dog, I want to be asleep before the sun comes up.”

“You’re no fun,” Billy pouted.

“Just be glad your pecker is the only thing that’s stiff. You could still be out there in the cold with only Dog to keep you warm.”

“If you’re trying to bring me down, literally, then it’s working.”

“You’re in no position to complain after dragging me out of my warm bed to save your sorry ass. Let me finally get some sleep and you can pencil me in for a nooner.”

“You mean our bed, and I love you honey bear.”

“Stop calling me that, unless you never want to get any ever again. It still gives me a trace of guilt having sex with you when you call me ‘bear’. You’re more of a pig anyway, but you’re my pig, and I still love you—but your not my bear. That’s a word reserved for Oso exclusively.”

“Sorry, I just meant to say how I feel. Who is better than you?” He was still trying to warm her up for the long shot of a little action tonight. “You know I love you.”

“I love you too. Now no farting or the deal is off.” Lindy looked serious while she said this.

“You have to make the rules before you make the deal. That’s the way it works. Also, you’re getting a special wake-up call at noon no matter what,” Billy promised.

“One fart and I’m going to kick you so you can’t use that thing for a week. No joke.”

Billy repeated, “You’re no fun,” and smacked Lindy in the ass as she started up the steps. She screamed, “Owe,” and scaled the remaining stairs three at a clip, making record time up into their bedroom.