Rick and Linda Bk. 06

We were in bed together three days later. Linda and I are asleep in our P.J.s when I hear a loud BANG of her bedroom door getting kicked open. Splinters flew; one cut me above my eye, making me bleed.

I fear for our lives, but I don't see a gun and step out of bed. He swings at me. I block it, knocking him down to the ground. He's screaming from the floor to get the fuck out of his house and gets up and runs to his bedroom for a gun. I grabbed Linda's hand, and she refused to get on the motorbike.

Linda saying. "Mom, he would kill her. Now go; I get Mom and meet you at Jane's place. I love you, baby. I left sitting on my clothes to put them on later. I fire up the Honda, and I'm halfway down the block in my P.J.s when I see him shooting at me in my rear view mirror the flash lights the night sky as I opened the throttle wide open. My Honda laid rubber getting away. I stopped the bike putting my clothes on and helmet checking for holes there were none.

I got home to Aunt Jane's and say. "Please call the police; he came home and shot at me. I was scared of what he could do to them."

So we talked for hours, waiting to hear from them. Jane called the police twice, but we both think we won't hear from them again.

I say. "If I was not so scared. If I had a gun, I'd return and get them."

Jane says. "Call your Uncle. You get them; you can't be alone, even with a gun. The guy's rough trade. He beat up Linda's Mom a few times but he was always careful not to bruise her face."

Jane walks out of the room and comes back with a shoe box. I am on the phone the five seconds it took me to say. "Linda needs us. She's in trouble; her Dad shot at me."

Bobby says. "Tell us the details when we get there. What's the address, and how do I get there? Do I need my big teeth(it's what we call firearms in our family)?"

I hear June say. "Who is it, Bobby?"

Bobby says. "It's Rick, baby, and Linda; she's in trouble get dressed in the truck. We are on the road now, son. Call your Dad."

I did call my Dad no answer. Two am. Again, at four am. I died 1000 times before waiting for my backup fears running in my mind like a bad movie. Jane is on the floor at my feet; I stroke her hair as I sit in the chair. I hear a car pull in; it's them as Jane closes her robe and goes and starts the coffee.

We sit drinking coffee as I tell the tale. I say. "Enough info to go kick in a door, Bobby?"

He says. "Yes, but he brought only one 45 auto."

Jane says. "We got that covered."

She brings out a.380 auto and a full clip out of a shoe box. I check the clip, pull the action, nothing in it now off safe, put the magazine back in, jacked a round, and let the hammer down to half safe.

I say. "OK, Bobby, let's roll."

We pulled up and knocked nicely on the door, and getting no answer, I went outside of Linda's room, and the window was screwed shut. I did kick in the back door, and their long-gone. Clothes were gone, the drawers were open, papers tossed about they were gone. I don't remember anything after that. I recall being undressed and put to bed. I woke up and screamed like a man who had lost half his heart.

Three faces greeted me, and I said. "Please tell me it was only a nightmare."

June says. "No, son, it not. It's real."

Jane, with Bobby and June, stayed with me for two days; I never did hear from my Dad.

I say. "Please, June, you and Bobby, please make love for Linda, but my bliss is gone."

They drove back at dawn before I left for school. I made it back to school after two days. Mae was there, and a few who knew the story were there also to help. However, my Dad still has not called me. Some kid in a gang who talked shit about Linda got me in trouble. I knocked him into and out of two restroom stall walls, sent him to the hospital, and got suspended. The gang offered 100 bucks bounty to kick my ass and put me in the hospital (that's a lot of money; in the 70s, a gallon of gas was.35 cents, and a loaf of bread was.55). I can't take it I failed I let Linda down I should have made her leave with me the police could have dealt with her Dad and Mom.

After doing all the work the house needed, I hopped on my Honda 305 and said goodbye to Aunt Jane. Not having to go to school for a few weeks gave me time to do all the work the house needed. I headed north on my Honda, spent a week at Francis's home with Pam and Mary, and trained all three on the ways of Garden Oaks Art Club. I enjoyed it, but my heart was missing. I stopped sleeping, and I stopped shaving for the last three days and headed north again.

Passing the Texas border, I saw a caravan of carny rides. I can fix things. I'm great with tools and when they stop and set up their rides. I asked if they needed a strong back and a weak mind, and I saw a light bulb flicker. I stood on a barrel to see if the bulb was tight. I pulled the bulb, inspecting the fixture, tightened the screws, and put it back together.

And the light stayed on, the owner says. "100 a week room and board. We will pay extra if you work the rides."

Well, I fucked the bearded lady, the tattooed lady, and the high-wire lady every day for six weeks, and not once did coming make me miss Linda less. It was the first name I said, getting up, and the last name I said before I passed out if I was lucky enough to get some booze. I worked fifty hours a week, but booze ate all my money. So I got drunk and called Aunt Jane to see if she had heard anything; the answer was that she had not.

Well, I needed money for drugs started when I met a guy who was four foot nine. The guy was named Peanut, he says. "He had what I needed to forget her." He showed me how to make drugs and scam/Conn people; it was not a good time for me. Weeks it's only been five weeks, three days, and fourteen hours since we last touched Linda and I.

I hurt, so I no longer cared. I got cocky after a dozen scams and a few thousand in cash from everyone we ripped off burning a hole in my pocket. I was getting back at her Dad. I was sick, but nothing could make me care about anything. So we would find a bar with tables and played a game of pool. The two of us at first, I would win, and the next round, money is bet, then my friend would lose to me, then I play another guy, and I lose, and Peanut would play just getting by or losing till the pot is hundreds of bucks.

Now, in every town, I go to the bar to get a drink, sitting at the bar chatting up the Barmaid near the nearest doorway. I go out and warm my Honda 305 up, and we get out of town fast and catch up to the carny as they were going to the next town. But this night at the bar, it's different. The place is packed, so getting to the bar for the drink was out of the question. The pot is up a few thousand. I see Peanut is ready to sweep the table time to get to my motorbike, and the crowd is so thick I can't get out of the bar without hurting people, and my mind recoiled at hurting people to get away. I made it as far as my Honda when the angry mob tore my bike up; they kicked me into the ground stealing my money. After that, Peanut was nowhere to be seen the carny was far away down the road.

I walked without my bike down a country road. Trying to hitch to the next town was pointless, but some stopped; they would look at me and drive off; I looked like a black and purple bruised fruit.

A station wagon of nuns pulled over and stopped, the Mother Superior says. "You need to go home, my son."

I say. "Nothing there, but yes, Ma'am, I can't get my Dad to pick up the phone to let him know I need help. Sure, no help coming from my Mom. That's a sad story in itself. But a ride would be lovely. This day is a cold one."

An older nun says. "It looks like you were 100 years old, but get in, eat, drink; we can tend your wounds. Then, for you, things might get brighter."

Being around a woman not like the woman I knew was odd; I had no charm. But my heart was touched by their smiles and willingness to help a stranger.

But a young Novice tried to clean my wounds and said. "Sisters, he needs more water."

They pulled into a closed filling station, and they dressed my wounds as the cleaned me up.

Then the Mother Superior says. "Why would your Mother let you go? Was she not a nice person?"

I answered by starting the story of my Mom's cancer and all I was forced to do. I looked up, and the sun went down a good deal. I finished the story of my Mom and Sister, my eight-stitch scar on my hairline, a war wound from my Mom's high school ring, trying to keep the peace of a fight between my Sister and Mom. Running down, having been given a few sips of brandy and dosed off. I woke up; it was getting dark.

One of the Sisters sees me awake and says. "The car won't start. Do you know anything about cars?"

I had the hood open; it was the starter. So I jumped it as you hot-wired it, and it started; the solenoid or starter relays an easy fix, and the Nuns said a prayer as we got into the car to go into town.

The Mother Superior says. "I guess we were meant to find each other for whatever reason. You need to go back to being the old you. But don't be the old you that's the Hell what your Mother thinks about it be better. Call your Grandparents. They will help you, or try your Dad again."

We pull into town, walk into the auto parts store, and I say. "The ladies needed the starter, but I had no tools or money to fix it. I feel dumb to ask this. We don't have any money. How can I earn money for the part and one or two long-distance calls to My Dad or my Grandfather? I need to get home and start my Life over?"

The guy says. "You tell me your tale, son; your beat to Hell and back, and we put that part in the car for them.

I tell the tale of Linda; he looks like he has been punched in the gut, as do the Nuns.

I say. "Where the bus stop was to buy a ticket if I can get a hold of my dad."

As he steps out, he tells me to use his phone, and my Dad answers. He asked me no questions that day or any other day about my trip north; I told him Linda's Dad sent her off to school in Canada after shooting at me. We were in bed together at the time. He called the bus station, and a ticket was waiting. I stayed with the nuns, helping put the part in. Three grown men who let me do it. This was paying it forward, returning to who Linda made me. I said our goodbyes and got hugs as the four held me and prayed for me. It felt like it did at Bobby's being held by someone who believes in me doing well the senior nun gave me her cross.

The Hell of a thirty-five-hour ride from Butte, Montana, riding in a bus in pain, unable to get pain pills; aspirin was it. It was all I had. I pissed blood and ate red cross food at one stop. I had to wash my face, it was less than fun, but it was free food. Nevertheless, I hurt a little less than it did a day ago. Talking in the desert had helped. Stopping in town as the bus needed repair I went to a local Library for research. A dozen girl schools were listed, but it also said the licenses board had passed but were not listed over forty more. It was pointless to go to Canada; I sent postcards with a short story of Linda and asked if they would send it to the schools you know of. I never heard back from any of the twelve cards sent out. So my Dad takes me home, and the spare room that was going to be mine is now a home gym with 4,000 worth of high-end gear. I get a sleeping bag on the floor or a G.I. cot, but if I want to go to school, I must do it at my Mom's house or talk to a lawyer.

When I learned about the Emancipation of Minors, we went to court, and I could finish school where I wanted to move. I took Dad to work, stopping by my Mom's place to pick up my treasures, like my comic books, records, and stereo. Everything my Mom put in the trash weeks ago, my childhood and my girlfriend are gone. What's next? I called Aunt Jane and told her I was back, but have you heard she said no? I called Mae; she had no info, but she was happy I called, and we could meet for pizza.

I say. "We would, but I needed someone to take the orders for the prom; it pays a few hundred."

Mae says. "I'll do it for you; I need the money school has gone up."

I photographed my prom. I made enough to buy a used Volvo and worked hard in school I caught up, but I am still waiting to hear from Linda or her Mom. Dad's new wife and life were weird as Hell: new Mom, new house, and new step-sister. Oh, she was a cutter and loved cutting others when they slept, her brother had three safety pins in his cheek, and if you thought my anger management was terrible, he would go off pissed at something. He was a freak; his Mom was, and his Sister was way past freaky.

She damn, what was her name? She freaked out if you did not call her Mrs. Bogart, but over some dead road kill for dinner, she talked my Dad and I into taking the summer to do a thirty-day and a five-state tour to get to know each other again. It was a fun trip, and we started the returned trip home early on the twenty-eighth day with fun stories of our adventures.

Thirty-one days later, we pulled into the driveway to his new house; it has a for sale sign out front that's marked sold. We get inside with his key, and the house's light fixtures, fans, doors, door knobs, sinks, and light switches are striped. Everything we own is in my Dad's Dodge Dart; his 442 Oldsmobile was sold to help buy a Cadillac for his thirty-two-year-old wife. The witch cleaned out the bank account and sold the rental house, a fishing lodge, and a deer lease outside Waco. Damn, my fault I left my things and cameras at their home that was all gone now. Dad got taken to the cleaners big time.

We had to share a room and bed in a rooming house for a month till he got paid from work, and we rented an apartment and started Life over with just about nothing but our toothbrushes. I had a few dates in high school, but none healed my broken heart. After high school, I went to college. I was out in three years, took courses I needed in business, and then quit rather than go into debt for a slip of paper when prices doubled for tuition. I was unsure why my grades were better in college. I went into medical photography at a hospital. I photographed musicians and weddings on the side. I did all kinds of photography jobs in my spare time. I was making a good living.

It had been over ten years without hearing from Linda. I had a stalker girlfriend who made my life hell. I moved to my house and had to get an unlisted number. Also, months after the trouble with Sam blew up and hit the national news, the whole family had to change our numbers, getting unlisted ones. I changed jobs to work in a camera store. I had a lovely place a 1920s Craftsmen house, a good job, a motorcycle, a van, and many fun toys, but only a few months of any woman lasted in my Life. Then I overheard the salesman at the camera store talking where I worked; they were planning a birthday party for my thirtieth. I have hated my B-day for years, but I don't see this getting any better. But Life can be funny, and not care sometimes.

Stay tuned for part 7.