Twist of Fate

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August 1975

Conrad Garret sat at the bar at Sullivan's Bar & Grill, nursing his second beer of the evening. Normally, the twenty-four-year-old mechanic wouldn't have stopped for a drink in the middle of the week, but a co-worker, Mark Myers, had wanted to buy everyone at Petroski's Garage a round to celebrate the birth of his son. Conrad had thought that, seeing that the thirty-year old office manager already had three daughters, he might have been better off saving his money, but who was he to pass up a free drink, even on a Wednesday?

That proved an opinion shared by just about the entire crew, especially since Sullivan's was only a half block from the garage. But the free round had been drunk almost an hour ago, after which, one by one, his associates had left, until only he remained. With no place to go, really, other than an empty apartment, Conrad had ordered another drink.

Glancing around the bar, Conrad could see that it was a slow night, as might be expected mid-week. There were only about a half dozen patrons, some of whom had been there since he'd first arrived and might still be there come last call.

One of the reasons that Conrad had no place to go was that he had broken up with his girlfriend a few months ago and hadn't met anyone that interested him enough in the interim to ask out. Not that he'd really spent that much time looking.

"Can I get you another?" the bartender asked as she wiped down the space in front of him, drawing attention to his nearly empty mug.

"No, I think I'm good," Conrad replied as he decided that the beer in front of him was going to be his last.

"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be right over there," the thirty-year-old buxom brunette said as she motioned in the direction of the cash register with her head.

She paused a moment before moving away, long enough to give Conrad another good look at her barely concealed breasts, which she'd practically waved in the younger man's face while cleaning up an imaginary spill in front of him. Conrad had no illusions about his looks being anything more than average, so he saw the bartender's action for what it was, merely an attempt to drum up a better tip.

He'd been to Sullivan's enough times to have heard the rumor that if you left Wendy a good enough tip, she might take you into the store room, where you could get a much better look at her prestigious bust, maybe even a quick feel. One of the other mechanics at the garage claimed that, after inadvertently leaving her a ten instead of a one, he'd been treated to a hand job. Conrad seriously doubted the story, but seeing that even the suggested gratuity for a closer look was more than he made an hour, it was unlikely that he'd test the validity of either tale.

Glancing down the length of the bar to where Wendy now stood, Conrad noted how the brighter light above the register made her extended nipples even more visible. He sighed heavily and put down the glass he had started to raise to his mouth. If he had any more, he thought, the cost of a closer look might not have seemed so prohibitive.

'Definitely time to call it a night,' he told himself, leaving a few coins on the bar as a tip as he gathered up the paper bills.

Sliding off the stool, Conrad decided that a trip to the bathroom was called for before he headed home. The bathrooms were located along the narrow hallway leading back to the storage room and kitchen, and as he started to move down the passage, Conrad found the way blocked by a man and woman standing between the two restrooms. It was immediately apparent that they were arguing over something.

Pausing as he considered if he really had to go, Conrad observed that the woman, who had her back to him, had short black hair cut just above her neck, leaving a small show of skin above the medium length blue dress she wore. The man, who he didn't recognize but looked to be in his mid to late fifties, had short graying hair and was dressed in a denim work shirt and jeans. From his mannerisms and speech, it was pretty obvious that he'd been drinking rather heavily.

"I told you, Eddie, it's not working and we're done," Conrad heard the woman say. "There's nothing more to discuss and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't call me again. This is the last time I'm going to ask you that."

Not wanting to get involved, Conrad decided that the bathroom could wait until he got home after all. He'd just started to turn when he caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye, causing him to pause and reverse direction.

Conrad couldn't be sure if the push that sent the woman into the wall was intentional or if the guy had just been intoxicated enough to have lost his balance as he moved closer to her, but either way, the younger man had been taught growing up that there was never any excuse for hitting a woman. Reacting instinctively, Conrad put himself between the man and the woman, reaching out with an outstretched hand to keep the man at a distance.

Disregarding the gesture, the man also reacted instinctively, only in his case it was to take a swing at Conrad. A punch that was so telegraphed that he had no trouble avoiding it, which was more than could be said for the short conflict's instigator as a counter-punch knocked him on his ass. A vantage point that allowed him to look up and realize that he might be better off staying there, at least for the moment. Conrad wasn't a gym guy, but he did keep himself in decent shape.

Once he was sure the man wasn't getting up. Conrad turned his attention to the woman behind him, hoping she hadn't been hurt. As he did, he saw a small bruise on her cheek where the man's hand had landed, but other than that, she appeared to be okay. It was only when he expanded his focus to the rest of her face that Conrad realized that he recognized the woman.

"Mrs. Collins?" he asked, surprise in his tone.

"Yes, who...? She replied hesitantly as she looked at her rescuer, at first only seeing a strange young man in a t-shirt and jeans.

"Conrad, Conrad Garret. I used to go to school with your daughter, June, and your son, Mike was in the same scout troop as my little brother," he said reassuringly, trying to establish himself as a friendly face.

"Oh yes, Conrad," Linda Collins said as she now recognized both his name and face, "I remember you."

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No, I'm okay," she said, an assessment Conrad wasn't sure he agreed with. "I'm just a little embarrassed, that's all. Public scenes really aren't my thing."

By this time, her companion, who Conrad learned later was named Eddie MacKay, had picked himself up and, while now keeping his distance, glared at Linda and her protector. Figuring the best course of action was to just ignore him and get Linda out of there, the dark-haired mechanic led her through the bar and out onto the street.

"Was that guy a friend of yours?" Conrad asked, even though what he'd heard of the exchange between them certainly seemed to indicate that.

"Actually, he was, well, I guess you could call him my boyfriend," Linda said, her face reflecting a look of embarrassment. "Although I guess ex-boyfriend would now be more accurate."

"Boyfriend?" he inquired, confusion in his voice.

"Things have changed quite a bit since you and June graduated," Linda replied, her face trying to form a smile. "Thomas and I divorced a little over a year back. He lives out in California now."

'Divorced?' Conrad thought, the word sounding quite strange as he repeated it in his head.

Divorce wasn't a word he usually heard around the family table, and if it did find its way there, it usually referred to some Hollywood type. Those people, his mother would always say, lived by a different set of rules. People in the neighborhood, real people, didn't get divorced. They lived by the preacher's words -- 'till death do you part.'

"I'm sorry to hear that," Conrad said. "I hadn't heard."

Conrad only vaguely remembered Thomas Collins, even though he had met him a few times back during high school. Some sort of salesman, he was pretty much an absentee father, at least as far as school and extracurricular activities went.

Linda Collins, on the other hand, was someone you couldn't easily forget. Now in her early forties, Linda stood a few inches shorter than Conrad's five nine, with a slim build and, as he fondly remembered, a pretty nice bust. From photographs he had seen, she had been a real beauty back when she was his age, and the years since had done little to change that.

"It was bound to happen eventually," Linda said without regret. "We got married much too young and for the wrong reasons."

The phrase 'for the wrong reasons' could mean a lot of things, Conrad thought, but he was pretty sure what she was referring to. Back when they were friends, June had once remarked that her parents had married right after high school and, adding the fact that she herself had been born the following January, he didn't have to be a math whiz to do the numbers. Still, he held back any remark, thinking that wasn't the sort of thing polite people pointed out.

"Did you need a ride home?" Conrad asked, putting that thought behind him as he looked back over his shoulder to make sure that the older man hadn't followed them out of the bar.

"I guess I should call a cab," Linda said. "That's how I came here."

"Forget the cab," Conrad said. "I've got my car and I'd be happy to drop you off."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble," Linda replied. "A cab would be fine."

"You'll never find one around here this time of night," Conrad noted, glancing up and down the street as if to point out the long row of stores long since closed. "And I don't think you want to go back to the bar to use their phone."

"No, that wouldn't be a good idea at all," Linda agreed. "So, I guess I'll just have to accept your gracious offer."

"Good, I'm parked just around the corner," Conrad said.

-=-=-=-

"Are you still over on Prospect Ave?" Conrad asked as he started the car, recalling the large house that used to be a gathering place for many of her daughter's friends.

"No, we sold the house after the divorce," Linda said. "With June married and Mike off to college soon, it was more than I needed. Besides, selling it gave me a chance to make a fresh start."

"I didn't know June had gotten married," Conrad said as he guided his old Ford Pinto through the light traffic.

"Two years ago," Linda said as she also gave him the address of her new apartment down on Carroll St. "She and her husband are expecting a baby in February."

"That's great," Conrad replied, thinking that was the sort of thing you were supposed to say.

"Yes, it is," Linda agreed. "At least she learned from my experience and didn't put the cart before the horse."

Again, Conrad chose not to comment, but instead asked if Mike was home. If so, he'd love to say hello.

"Actually, Mike's out in California too," Linda replied. "He goes to USC and decided to stay at his father's place between semesters. I still see him on holidays and such, but he much prefers it out there, especially now that he has a serious girlfriend."

Linda also explained the circumstances that led to her ex-husband relocating to the West Coast. His older brother had moved to Los Angeles after college to take a job with his father-in-law's company twenty years ago -- a company he now ran. When it became apparent that their marriage was indeed over, Thomas had accepted a long-standing offer to come out there and work for his brother. From what she understood, it had worked out rather well for him, and in a way, for her as well. It was a lot easier to deal with an ex-husband when he was thousands of miles away.

"I guess so," Conrad said, having no experience in that regard.

"You know, I really appreciate what you did back at Sullivan's," Linda said, changing the subject. "I never imagined that things might get out of hand like that."

"I was glad to help, Mrs. Collins," he replied.

"Linda," she corrected him. "You're far too old, and I'm far too young, for you to be still calling me Mrs. Collins."

"Okay," Conrad smiled before asking what had happened back there in the bar, adding that he'd understand if it wasn't something that she wanted to talk about.

"No, it's okay," Linda replied. "Eddie and I had been going out for about a month, but I finally decided that the spark really wasn't there, at least not for me. He's a nice enough guy, at least when he hasn't had a few too many -- which is something I'd never seen him do before tonight. I think he knew what I was going to say and decided to deaden the pain with a few shots beforehand."

"But why choose a bar to give him the bad news?" Conrad asked.

"Probably not the best decision, but I wanted to do it somewhere public to avoid a scene," she answered. "Obviously I was wrong on that count as well."

"Is this it?" Conrad asked as he pulled up in front of a small apartment building.

"Yes, this is me," Linda confirmed after glancing out the window.

Conrad was just going to pull in front of the four-story building and drop Linda off by the hydrant, but before he could do so, she surprised him by asking if he'd had dinner yet.

"No, I stopped at Sullivan's right after I got out of work," he replied, not seeing the need for a more elaborate explanation.

"Well, it just so happens I have some leftover Chicken Marsala in the fridge that I was planning to heat up," Linda replied. "I still haven't gotten the hang of cooking for one so, if you're hungry, I'd be happy to share. It's the least I can do to say thank you."

Conrad remembered Mrs. Collins as having been an extraordinary cook, and even her leftovers were usually better than what passed for dinner at his own house. Since all he had waiting for him at his apartment was a frozen dinner, it didn't take long for him to say yes to her offer.

Disregarding the space in front of the fire hydrant, Conrad instead went a little further up the block to an empty space where he could legally park.

-=-=-=-

Conrad followed Linda into the building and up the stairs to the third floor. Her apartment was at the back end of the landing, the smaller of the two on that level. Three rooms in all, not counting the bathroom, it also had a small terrace looking out over the backyard with just enough space for a little table and two chairs.

"Mind if I use the bathroom?" Conrad asked, remembering that he still needed to go.

"Of course not, it's right through there," she said, indicating the way with a motion of her hand.

The bathroom was small, with only room for a commode, sink and a phonebooth-sized shower. The last had a clear plastic curtain instead of a glass door and since it was open, Conrad could see a cheap plastic clothes rack, on which had been hung what his mother liked to call 'unmentionables.' The collection of bras and panties seemed, at least to his eye, much more decorative than what he sometimes saw in the laundry basket back home.

Quickly taking care of what he needed to, Conrad returned to the living room. Having heard the door open, Linda called out from the kitchen, where she'd gone to put the Pyrex casserole dish in the oven, for him to make himself comfortable. He did so, taking a seat on the couch and as he waited, he took in the rest of the apartment, deciding that, while it was small, it was a lot nicer than the one he called home.

"Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes," Linda said as she stepped back into the room, a tray with two steaming cups in her hands. "I thought you might like some coffee while we waited."

"That sounds like a good idea," Conrad replied as she set one of the cups on the coffee table in front of him before taking a seat in the chair on the other side of it.

"Milk or sugar?" Linda asked, gesturing to the small containers on the tray.

"No, just black is fine," Conrad replied, thinking that even though he'd never finished the second beer it wouldn't hurt to clear his head with a strong cup.

Linda took a moment to add milk and sugar to her own cup, stirring it carefully before taking a sip. As she did so, Conrad offered that she had a nice apartment.

"Thank you," Linda replied. "I know it's not very big, but I really don't need much."

Conrad just nodded his head, thinking that was true.

"Are you still living at home?" Linda inquired.

Conrad hesitated for a few moments, trying to phrase his response in a way that didn't sound too lame.

"Well, yes and no," he finally said. "I took over the basement apartment."

That the apartment had been built for his grandmother, who had been the previous tenant before her passing, and that the rent was far less that his parents would've gotten if they'd put it on the open market, was something Conrad left out.

"It's a place of your own, be it down the basement or across town," Linda said. "That's what's important."

They chatted for a bit more, filling in some of the blanks of the years since they'd seen each other. Linda inquired about Conrad's parents and said she was happy to hear that they were doing well. She also inquired about his younger brother, who, as he explained, decided that college really wasn't for him and had enlisted in the Navy soon after his eighteenth birthday.

"And what are you doing these days?" Linda asked.

"I'm a mechanic, over at Petroski's Garage," he said, thinking she would remember the name since she'd lived only a few blocks from there.

"Oh, I remember Mr. Petroski," she stated, "and his lovely wife too."

Piotr Petroski, who was the father of eight, had married his second wife back when Conrad was still in grade school. His previous marriage had been childless, and some said he had made up for it by marrying a woman twenty-five years his junior, and then making an addition to the family nearly every year over the next decade.

"I'm not surprised you became a mechanic," Linda added. "You were always really good with your hands."

Conrad's face unexpectedly paled for a second as Linda's comment, spoken in a voice that closely mirrored her daughter's, was identical to one June had once made. It was during that brief period when they tried dating, an experiment that had gone far enough to find the two of them parked out by the Narrows one night. As one of his favorite songs went, the lesson hadn't gone too far, but it had led to his hand under her blouse and bra, both of which eventually wound up on the floor of his car. He wasn't sure why he suddenly remembered that night now, but it made him wonder if June had shared the events of it with her mother.

"The Pinewood Derby racers," Linda said, noticing the confused look on Conrad's face. "I remember you helping my Mike and your brother carve their cars. In fact, I still have that little trophy he won for third place."

"Oh yeah, the derby," Conrad said with noticeable relief. "I'd forgotten all about that."

"What did you think I was talking about?" Linda asked.

"Ah, nothing really," he quickly replied, shifting the subject as he asked where Linda worked.

"Russell Plumbing Supplies down on Second Avenue," she replied. "I handle billing invoices and quality control."

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's a paycheck," Linda said, adding that she really shouldn't complain since being a stay-at-home mom really hadn't qualified her to do much.

Conrad knew Russell Plumbing; it was owned by June's uncle by marriage, which explained how Linda had gotten the job -- something the older woman didn't care to share. Instead, she noted that she had seen Conrad admiring a photo of June on the end table, one from back in high school.