Don't You Need Somebody To Love?

A tear went down his cheek as he realized that he had waited too long and she had found someone else. 'Way to go, idiot.'

There was a loud knock on the door. "Hey, I need some help out here."

Jim had no choice but to leave; he flushed the unused toilet, washed his hands and went back into the front of the store. Angelina and her companion were gone, he saw, replaced by a crowd of people wanting their groceries rung up.

The rest of the day dragged on after his discovery. It couldn't end fast enough and all he wanted was to go home and close his door behind him. Tomorrow would be another day and fortunately, the store would be closed for Sunday. His father was too tired to go in seven days a week.

He had to find something else to do, somewhere else to be, unsure if he could survive seeing her coming in each week with someone else. It would eat through him, he knew, until there was nothing left but the husk of an empty man. If he wasn't there already.

Sunday, May 18

His mother stood in his doorway. "Giacomo, it's time for church."

"You go on ahead, Mama. I'm... I'll be along, maybe later."

"Father Flannigan asked about you."

"I hear you, Mama. I'll see you later." He rolled over, turning his back toward his mother, ending their short conversation.

An hour later, the room was quiet except for The Ventures. 'Hawaii,' he thought, 'full of prostitutes so eager to take my money. How much like their sisters in Saigon, just the faces are different.' He wondered if Angelina would writhe beneath him like they had.

"Missed you at church," his father said.

"Well, Papa, I guess so."

"I saw Angelina. She asked about you."

"That's nice, Papa." Jim folded his hands beneath his head. 'Will this day ever end?'

"Lunch is in an hour. Your mama's...."

"I'm not hungry. I'll make a sandwich later; maybe peanut butter or something, I don't know."

"Son, you've got to...." He didn't know what to say.

"What, Pop? What more I gotta do? I go to the store. What more do you want?" 'Damn it, why can't you leave me alone?'

His father slowly closed the door and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. He shook his head as his mother looked inquisitively at him.

She put a bowl of spaghettini in front of him. "Mangia," she said and started to cry.

Angelina walked out onto the Redondo Pier and watched the old men fishing. As the breakers rolled in, she saw the shiny patches of oil come with them that would eventually coat the sand. She used to walk along the beach until it became a constant chore to scrape the tar from her feet. Offshore, she saw the tankers sitting low in the water, waiting their turn to offload their black cargo.

She took a deep breath, filling her senses with the tangy salt air that traveled all the way across the Pacific from China. She wondered how long it took to happen. On the horizon, there were a line of black clouds and she realized that the storm would arrive before the day was over. Turning back, she almost fell into one of the old fishermen leaning against the railing.

"I'm sorry," she said, hurrying away from him, for some reason afraid of his nearness.

The man watched her running away on the dark planks of the pier, wondering what had caused her to fear him. He pulled his coat tighter against the rising wind and decided it was time to go home. He looked at the three miserable fish in his bucket and shaking his head, threw them over the railing back into the sea. 'Jumpin' Jack Flash; it's a gas, gas, gas....'

Sunday, September 7

Jim and his father drove over to the Dodge dealership and looked at the shiny bright red Challenger R/T before them.

"I don't know, Jim. That's a lot of money." Even as his father spoke, Jim touched the car, his hand running easily over the paint to the long side window.

"It's only money and besides, I've got it. Didn't spend any of it over there."

"Still..."

"I'm buying it. It's too cool not to." He looked around for a salesman but there weren't any around. "Maybe they don't think I have the money... dumb fuckers."

"Jimmy!"

"Ah, Papa, what the hell, you know? I want this damn car. Wait a minute, I'm going to find someone." He walked toward the line of windowed offices at the back of the showroom. "HEY!!! Any of you assholes want to sell a fucking car or what?!!!"

Suddenly, there were three red-faced salesmen rushing to him, mumbling apologies.

"I want this car," he said, pointing at the red car, "and I'm willing to pay cash. Let's talk."

Two hours later, Jim drove off the lot and onto Manchester Boulevard. He punched the gas and felt the car push him back into the seat as the smoking tires spun. For a moment, he checked the rear view mirror, embarrassed, wondering if there were flashing red lights in his short-term future. Amazing, to be scared of a fuckin' traffic ticket....

Hitting the brakes, he turned right onto Sepulveda and headed back toward Culver City and home, a wide smile finally on his face.

Pulling into his parents' driveway, he honked the horn and raced the engine. His mother came out onto the porch, wiping the flour from her hands on her apron.

"C'mon, Mama, time for a ride... let's go to the beach."

The woman stood there, shocked at what seemed a living, fire-breathing thing from space.

Leaving the car running, Jim got out of the car and taking his mother by the hand, led her to the Challenger and sat her down in a bucket seat for the first time in her life, making sure that she was buckled in.

"We're going to have some fun, Mama." He took the car onto Culver Boulevard and headed west toward Playa del Rey and the beach.

Chapter 7 – Monday, September 15

"Angie, are you coming for breakfast?"

"I'll be there in a minute. I just have to put this away." She turned back to her open closet and hung her sweater back up. Its brown color was all wrong for the day.

"Angie!"

"Coming!" Ever since her husband had died, she had been living with her two cousins and sometimes John could be a real pain in the... Her face reddened at her thought. Without their help, she would have been living in a dingy apartment somewhere rather than in a nice house close to the beach. Sometimes, she wished he wasn't her cousin. He was everything she wanted in a lover, a husband, but that would never happen, no matter whatever else did.

She thought about Signor Silvestri's son. He was an enigma to her and yet she felt herself attracted to him. But, she realized, he had that beaten 'puppy dog' look to him and she wondered if it would ever go away.

"Angie!"

Angelina hurried out of her bedroom and into the small kitchen. The smell of slightly burned bacon and eggs greeted her as she sat down. Picking up her now cool cup of coffee, she took a sip and put it back down. Was she THAT late for breakfast? She looked at the kitchen wall clock. It was after eight and she knew she was going to be late to class at the university.

Wolfing down her food, she kissed her cousin on the cheek, ran out of the house, returned to grab her books, and drove away toward Westchester as fast as she could up Lincoln Boulevard.

Arriving late caused her to park so far away that she might as well have parked on the street. She swore several times as she checked her watch every few minutes, knowing that she would probably miss most of her early morning physics class and decided to head directly to her 9 a.m. Inorganic Chemistry class instead.

That afternoon, after doing her homework, she drove over to the county library where she worked evenings, putting books back on the shelves, and wondered if she would ever find another man to love.

Wednesday, September 24

Jim was sitting on the lawn waiting for the noon concert to start, absentmindedly pulling up blades of grass. While it wasn't the reason he had come back to the university, it was a way to pass the time. The day in - day out routine was starting to drive him crazy and he needed to get away from the store if just for the afternoon. He felt slightly guilty leaving his father there all alone but then, his father had had to take care of the business all these years by himself, anyway, so what difference would one more day make?

He watched the girls walk by, wearing their shorts and tight T-shirts. He had missed the blondes of Southern California. All the girls in Vietnam had long, shiny, straight black hair and were short. Here, the girls were tall and sure of themselves, living in a world where it was safe to walk down the street and not worry about where the next meal was coming from. 'Hey, Joe, love you long time....' He subconsciously reached for a Hershey bar that wasn't there. 'Children having children,' he thought, 'or, did they just look like children?' He didn't know. Not that long ago and not that far away....

'Long as I remember... the rain kept coming down....'

He saw the band setting up near the Fine Arts Center. Fifties music was just what he needed... something as far away as possible from the music he associated with Vietnam. He opened his paper bag and took out the submarine sandwich he had made at the store and settling back on the grass, took a bite as a slight breeze came in from the Pacific.

A shadow covered him, blocking out the sun for a moment and as he looked up into the hazy sky, he was surprised to see Angelina standing there, the sunshine giving her a bright halo... like an angel.

"Hi," she said, looking down. "Mind if I sit with you?" Without waiting for an answer, she sat down, keeping the sun behind her.

"Sure, please do. What brings you here?" For a moment, he couldn't hear what she said, the band was so loud, but then realized that she had not said anything in response. "I've been back, wondering if I should start a Master's or not," he said. "GI Bill, you know. I was thinking Civil Engineering, maybe."

"Did you go here?" she asked, watching his eyes as they seemed to look into her soul.

"Yes, before... well, before. These guys are loud. Would you like to go somewhere else?" He was already moving.

"OK. How about the Lion's Den?" she asked, not really knowing any other place.

He stood up and extended his hand to her, helping her up from the ground. "Turn around," he said, the words finding themselves hard to say, his voice a soft rumble as he moved behind her.

"What?"

"Turn around."

She moved, obediently. She felt his hand brushing her bottom and bit back a small gasp of surprise. He was just brushing away the grass and dirt but she couldn't deny that the casual touch was disturbing. Was it her imagination or did his hand linger for an extra caressing second?

She turned around and looked at him over her shoulder. His scent filled her senses and she suddenly felt weak-kneed and quivery inside.

"Am I clean?" she asked, more to cover the silence between them than because she cared.

"Oh yes," he said. His hand moved over the roundness of her bottom again and this time, unless she had lost all sense of perspective, his touch was definitely a deliberate and lingering caress. Her face grew hot as the warmth spread from her bottom forward and upward.

Angelina sucked in a breath and floundered for something to say. "Good. I'd hate to walk around with dirty jeans." As soon as she had spoken, she felt like screaming. Had such a stupid comment really come out of her mouth?

The comment brought a final slap. "All finished." He put his half-eaten sandwich back into his bag and they walked quietly to the Student Center, close but not that close.

"Would you like a soda?" he asked. "Maybe... a candy bar? What are you eating, anyway?"

"Nothing... thank you, a soda would be nice."

Jim walked over to one of the vending machines and soon returned with two Cokes. "Here," he said, cutting his sandwich in half with his switchblade. "Have half, I've plenty," he said, a more intimate action than he thought.

"Thanks," she replied, taking the food from him, looking closely at him, trying to imagine what he was thinking behind those dark eyes.

"What are you taking?" he asked, wondering what she was doing at the university. 'She has to be at least 23,' he thought, 'if she got married five years ago.'

"I'm studying biology. I'd like to be a biologist. I've always liked science and my cousins...."

"Your cousins?" he asked.

"Yes, I live with them... I need to have a degree. I don't want to work at the library all my life. Those books suck the life out of you."

"I'll bet it's pretty quiet in there. That would drive me crazy."

"Me, too. I like to talk. Civil Engineering, huh? Want to build bridges and stuff?"

'That would be fun, but I think it's going to be more like water treatment or something. I spoke to one of the professors and he said that if I complete the program he could get me a job at Hyperion down by the beach. Good money, even if it does smell."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you know... the sewage plant."

"Oh," she said, her voice quietly disappearing as she understood what he was saying.

He could tell his answer did not meet with her expectations. Another disappointment... why not? What more could he expect?

"Thanks for walking me back to my car. I didn't realize it was so late." She stood next to the Beetle's open door, leaning against the car.

"That's all right. I...." he stammered, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I'll see you, then." She got into the car, closed the door and rolled down the window.

"Yeah, see you." As he watched her drive away, he cursed himself for letting her go without even getting her phone number. It had been months, now. He shook his head and began the long walk back to the parking lot to get his new car, pulling his windbreaker tight against the cooling afternoon breeze. Los Angeles, while warm, was still a long way from the humidity of Southeast Asia.

Friday, September 19

Jim picked up the two gallons of Italian Swiss Colony Chianti, put them on the low shelf and went back into the storeroom to get another one. At three dollars a gallon, he thought it should sell better, and considered moving the jugs closer to the front door of the store. He remembered reading something about impulse buying in 'Time' magazine.

"Don't forget, I've got another interview this afternoon at three," he told his father, "and I've got to be there on time. Dr. Johnson said he'd help me find some more financial aid, something about returning vets and engineering."

"All right, Jim, I'll call your mother and she can come in to help me."

"I'll go pick her up after the lunch rush." He returned to the front of the store, bringing out more boxes. Half the time, his mind was obsessed with Angelina and the rest of the time, he was wondering if he should have left the Army.

He thought back to her reaction when he told her about Hyperion. He was disappointed. 'It's a good job, an honest job. It isn't like I'm actually shoveling the stuff. Damn it!'

"I've found you several financial aid packages that will work. This one is the best but I've applied for all three just in case. With your GI Bill and these, you should be able to continue without spending any money of your own, except for transportation. This is a good program and Dr. Anderson has said he'll get you a position there after you've finished."

"Thank you," Jim said, hoping he was doing the right thing. For a moment, he felt guilty, leaving his parents to run the store without him: should he take the Hyperion position? He scowled, not really knowing what to do.

"Is there something wrong?" asked the guidance counselor.

"I'm not sure what to do," he replied. "I feel like I'm leaving my parents in the lurch."

"Well, I have to know what you're wanting to do. Call me next week and give me your decision."

The counselor put down the paperwork he had been holding. More silence.

"Uh, thank you. I'll let you know." Jim walked out of the counselor's cramped office, more frustrated than ever. What to do, he had no idea but he knew he had to make a decision soon... for more things than he wanted to think about.

Later that afternoon, he was back at the store, waiting for the store to be empty. "Papa?" he called out, trying to find his father.

"Yes, Jim? What?" His father walked toward him, putting his large knife down and wiping his hands on his white apron.

"I was thinking... about school, you know. I could get financial aid along with my GI Bill money and..." Jim quit speaking, waiting for his father's reaction.

Just then, Angelina walked in. "I forgot to give you my phone number," she said, handing him a piece of paper. "Call me." And, just as quickly, she was gone.

Both men stood there, watching her walk away from the store and down the street, her tight jeans causing a new-found nervousness in both of them. Paolo Silvestri looked at his son and shook his head. "Jesus Christ."

Jim was shocked. He had never heard his father speak that way, even when he had joined the Army. What had happened?

"Better not lose that piece of paper, son. At least now, you've got someone to ride around with you in that car of yours."

Jim didn't remember what he did for the rest of the afternoon, other than driving his father home in the old truck they used to make deliveries. For once, after dinner, he didn't retreat to his bedroom and instead, stayed with his parents to watch 'I Dream of Jeannie'. What he couldn't figure out, though, was what they were going to do when the Major began to age and she stayed young. 'After all,' he thought, 'then what?' He laughed, surprised he was worrying about something so damn stupid.

"Good night," he said, getting up, not feeling like staying for Johnny Carson.

"What are you going to do?" asked his father.

"About?" He knew what his father wanted to know, he just didn't know how to answer.

"You know." There was almost the hint of desperation in the man's voice.

"Don't worry. Good night, Mama, Papa." He turned and went into his bedroom.

As good as he felt, though, his night was filled with one long nightmare after another and he woke up covered in sweat somewhere after three in the morning, his blankets tangled up and his mother sitting on the bed, holding his hand, hoping he would awake by himself. For some inexplicable reason, Angelina was running into a rice paddy, chased by VC and he could do nothing to save her as the ground shook and the muddy water flew in great explosions and then she disappeared.

"Mama, what are you doing here?" he finally asked, embarrassed that she had to come to his room. Had he been that loud? Was this what life was going to be like?

"Giacomo, please see someone. This is hurting you. You need some help."

Jim looked at his mother, both angry and sad that his problems were so obvious to his mother. "I'll do something, I promise," he said.

"Please, for me."

Thursday, October 9

"I'm not sure how this works," Jim said, looking closely at the psychologist sitting on the other chair. "I thought there'd be a couch or something."

"Would you be more comfortable lying down? I can get a couch for next time if you'd like."

"No... just... never mind." He stared out the window, listening to the traffic down below on Wilshire.

"I see that you were a lieutenant with the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment... that was the Blackhorse Regiment, wasn't it?"

"That's right... tanks and armored personnel carriers. We went into Cambodia often enough, nice to have the added protection."

"Lieutenant, we can talk about anything you'd like. I'm here to help you."

Jim was quiet, unsure whether this was such a good idea or not, but he had promised his mother to see someone. "I thought I'd have to wait."