The radios are silent. The only music left are the sounds of frogs and the wind. The bonfires have all burned to black ashes. Smoldering bar-b-que grills fill the air with the smell of burned hot dogs. The beach is littered with wet towels, blankets and empty beer cans. I feel so alone.
Across
the beach the waning moon of August silhouettes your body as you remove your
swim suit and walk into the water. You turn to face me and a reflection of
light surrounds you. I go to you and our naked souls touch. I have been found.
We follow the
highway out to the Belcher creek turnoff and cross the train tracks. A full
moon hangs high in the cloudless Missouri sky as we approach the bridge and
stop right in the middle of the gravel road. The only people that use the
bridge anymore are a few farmers and there’s no way in hell they’re going to be
out at 11 O’clock at night.
A line of cars
pull in behind us and everyone cuts their engines. But the music from a dozen
radios still drifts through the air. I
step out of the car and gaze at the stars. I’m thinking that it would sure be a
great night to go hunting instead of pounding somebody’s head into the gravel.
Besides, I really don’t dislike Marvin. Hell, we had spent many summer days
fishing down at the ‘Pits’ or hunting rabbits together on old man Bailey’s
land. Besides, me and Beth were pretty much done with each other anyway. But
still, you can’t just go around asking another man’s girl out and not expect
some consequences.
Leroy and Jimmie
walk up and down the road telling everybody to shut off their radios and
headlights. Every now and again I can see them lean into a window and take a
drink of whisky or a toke from somebody’s joint. At about five till, everybody
starts making their way toward the bridge. It’s starting to look like
homecoming on a Friday night with the headlights from Jimmie’s car spotlighting
the arena. Some of the guys are cutting up, pretending to be boxing. Most of
the girls have pushed their way to the front and are leaning against the cars,
making sure they get a good look at the gladiators of the night. The crowd has
pushed in close and I’m drawing a lot of confidence from there murmurs. I peel
off my shirt and throw it on the hood. I can’t keep from smiling a little as some
of the girls start whispering about how big my shoulders are.
I can feel the
crowd starting to get a little antsy and I’m beginning to think that Marvin
isn’t going to show when a set of headlights turns the corner on the other side
of the creek and heads toward us. The red corvette stops just short of the
bridge and the door opens. The dash light reveals Marvin, with Beth practically
sitting on his lap like some bitch dog in heat. I start walking toward the
center of the bridge while Jimmie and Leroy hold back the crowd.
Beth follows
along a few steps behind Marvin. She’s wearing a tight black blouse and leather
skirt and puffing on a Virginia Slim. It gives me a little pang of longing as
she looks at me with those blue eyes.
Marvin takes off
his shirt and hands it to Beth and she goes on past us to join the crowd. I
chuckled a little at the sight of his pasty white torso. A quick thought comes
to my mind that he must have some Albino blood in him or something to be that
white. Why haven’t I ever noticed it before? Maybe it’s the way the car
headlights bounce off him. He looks a lot smaller than I remember from gym
class too and I start to feel a little sorry for him. I must admit the desire
to break his nose is beginning to fade.
But he walks
right up to me and spits into the dust at my feet and some of the anger comes
back. But I still can’t get as worked up as I was with the crowd egging me on
earlier.
“So I hear you
said city boys like to suck cow tits and have sex with sheep.” He said.
“Well, I say a
lot of things but I don’t remember saying that.” Marvin looks puzzled, like I
just took away his reason for being here in the first place.
He’s just
standing there not knowing for sure what to do next. So I point my finger at
his chest and say, “It was bull cocks and sheep dogs…City Boy.”
Marvin’s face is
getting red and I can see him double up his fist looking for the right time to
throw a punch. But he still isn’t sure if he wants to be the one to start it.
Someone yells
from the crowd, “You already took his girl Marvin…now take his teeth.” I swear
it’s Leroy’s voice.
“You know city
boy, you probably should go on back home and take your tramp with you before you
end up getting hurt.” I tell him.
Marvin replies
with another spatter of spit, only this time aimed right at my chest. I give
him a little shove, surprised at how easy it was to knock him back a step.
Marvin steps forward and takes a swing at me. I side step it fairly easily and
we walk circles around each other a few times…sizing each other up. Jimmie and
some of the other guys are yelling at me to knock his head off. So I take a
swing at him, not really wanting to hurt him but just letting him know I mean
business.
Marvin is a hell
of a lot faster than I realize and ducks it easily then pops me one in my right
eye. It hurts like hell and I know the swelling is going to come soon. I really
misread him. The next few blows don’t really make much contact but then I see
his left drop a little and I plant one on his ear. That makes him step back a
little and I can see that it’s blood red. I charge him and land a couple of
good hits. One bloodies his nose and another busts his upper lip. I start
feeling pretty proud of myself and I give him a couple more jabs thinking he’ll
back down. That’s when I see his right hand coming.
It’s headed
straight for my jaw. Everything is moving in slow motion. I watch it coming at
me, my mind is telling my body to get the hell out of the way but my body is
saying…screw you. I feel my head snap back and my legs are having trouble
keeping me upright. I can feel the blood running down my face and taste it in
my mouth. A few seconds seem eternal before my vision starts to clear. I think
he’s in shock that he hit me so hard because he’s not pressing me, so I take
advantage of it. I go after him again and I can feel a few of my jabs have some
effect. Then my right hand connects to his chin and I have him down on his
knees, staring up at me through two swelling eyes. I step back a little and
spit blood off the side of the bridge into the water below. I’m thinking how
nice it would be to jump in and let the water cover me with its coolness.
Marvin regains
his footing and we circle each other again. I throw a few more punches but they
have nothing to them. Suddenly, Marvin drops his guard and I prime my arm for
the kill shot. But I don’t want to deliver it and I think he knows it so he
drops both hands to his sides and he’s just standing there. I’m listening to
the jeers coming from the crowd. I see a little quiver run through his entire
body and he shakes his head slightly. He lifts his hand toward me. I realize
that I want nothing to do with the whole damn thing anymore either so I take it.
I stare at him, as he walks back to his car and gets in on the passenger side. Beth closes the door and runs around to get in on the driver’s side. Her ass swinging in her tight skirt and tits heaving in her blouse. I can tell, she’s about to cry and I can’ help but wonder if anybody really won. Maybe it makes no difference but I think I’m going to miss her.
Ah yes, Independence Day and the fourth of July. I know that way back when, it used to mean something. But like most things, time moved on and the significance of the day has faded. I know I’m suppose to be all patriotic like and what not. You know, have a little national pride for those brave people that risk their lives and some that even gave up their lives to bring me freedom. But I just can’t bring myself to really care that much. I mean, for criminity’s sake, that was a long time ago. Hell us and England are the best of friends now. I remember once when Elmer got into a fight with John Miller after school. They whooped up on each other like it was a blood feud. But when the punching was over, they went on down to Main Street Drug and had a soda together. They don’t go around celebrating the day Elmer lost a tooth and John got that black eye. So I’m thinking that it’s time we just change the name to Freedom Day. Freedom to drink beer, blow things up and not go to work. But come to think of it, here in my little part of the world, that’s just called a weekend.
No one in town ever really talked much
about her. I suppose that hers was the same story that was being told all over
America. Her mother was a native of Korea and her father was just another
broken ex-marine from the USA and neither one had the courage to give her the
love she desperately needed. So she became another neglected trophy from an
invaded country. Just gathering dust in the corner of Podunkville with the rest
of the souvenirs of war. Lust and alcohol brought her into the world. Heroine
and a razor blade relieved her of it.
There
have been more politicians than you can shake a stick at over the decades, including
our current president, that have used some version of this as their battle cry
to rally Americans. We all know that we want America to be great again, but
what is it that we’re really asking for? What will it take for America to be
great? Are we looking for low unemployment, high wages, stock markets on the
rise, low interest rates or low housing costs? I don’t think any of that makes
a difference. So just what is it that we’re after?
I
think that deep down we all have a longing for the nostalgia of something that
never really existed. That we’re looking for a place where Sherriff Taylor and
Barney weren’t just policemen walking a beat, but kind, trustworthy pillars of
the town who are able to keep all crime at bay without carrying a weapon. We
want Marcus Welby to make house calls and keep each of our ailments and secrets
to himself. We want him to hand us prescription drugs right out of his black
bag and take a watermelon as payment. We want little girls in pigtails saying ‘Goodnight
John Boy.” We’re looking for young lads that are willing to take out the trash
and mow the neighbor’s lawn for a homemade cookie and a glass of milk. We’re
looking for adults that help each other out through the tough times and throw bar-b-ques
to celebrate each other’s victories. We want to have our religion back. Where
we all go to church on Sunday and pray before each meal even in restaurants. We
want to see children kneel at the foot of their beds and thank God for another
day. We want to pledge allegiance to the
flag and have it mean more than just some words. We want drug stores to double
as soda shops and barber shops to be where the quartet practices. Yes, we want
hope, prosperity, kindness, honesty and freedom. But we don’t want to work for
them. We want someone to hand it to us on a silver platter.
So
there is always going to be a politicians telling us they will bring back ‘Main
Street’… that they can make a ‘Great America’. But none of them can ever
fulfill those promises.
Because
small towns and Main Streets are not places to visit, they are a way of life. They
are hidden inside each of us. So let’s search inside ourselves and pull them to
the surface. Only through our
action can we make America Great again.
Jerry Brotherton 