The Bedtime Tales of Be287m

The Ugly One, Chapter Six

I finally gave up trying to sleep at three a.m. With all the thoughts running around in my head, it was impossible to relax. I kept trying to analyze everything that had happened during the evening. I wanted to call Tamara, but didn't dare, given the hour. In the end, I finally resorted to something my therapist had recommended. I found an old notebook and began journaling. Exhaustion finally caught up to me and when I awoke to the noonday sun, the journal was still near my hand.

I skimmed my writings of the night before and then put them down before finishing. I was glad I hadn't called Tamara. If my ramblings had come out half as incoherent on the phone as they had on paper, I'd have lost a friend.

A friend. Tamara had started the evening by calling me a friend. I sulked about that for a while. Then I caught myself and made myself pull out of it.

Yes, she'd had sex with me once. But that had been as a client. I certainly wasn't a client anymore. Even our 'deal' really wasn't a business arrangement anymore. I'd spend time with Billy regardless of whether Tamara and I had our talks while he was doing the dishes. He was ten, but he was my friend. Why wouldn't his mom see me the same way I saw him?

I played back our encounters in my mind. Had she ever hinted at being interested in me romantically, or was I just projecting, seeing what I wanted to see? I couldn't tell. Hell, I had't been able to tell with Angie, despite what Tamara said were clear hints.

Angie. Why did Angie want to go out with me? She obviously did--she'd said yes after all. She'd even said she was happy to see me when we first started talking. I mulled that one over.

This wasn't an internet date, where she really didn't know what I looked like. She also didn't seem to be desperate, but I realized I couldn't be sure of that from the short conversations we'd had. She wasn't doing Tamara or anyone a favor by going out with me.

Maybe she really liked me. I had to concede it was possible.

I finally called Tamara about two in the afternoon.

"Any advice before I call Angie?" I asked.

"Just relax and have a good time!" she replied. "It's no different than talking with her at a party or chatting with me on Thursdays." Actually, it felt a lot different, but I couldn't explain exactly why.

"Can I call you after the date?" I asked.

"That might be a little tricky," she answered. "Billy, Mom and I are leaving for Portland tomorrow to spend Christmas with my uncle and cousins. Then I'm headed to Nevada to work. I'll be back in Denver on the Fifth."

"Oh."

"Why don't we talk about it on Thursday the Eighth?"

"Sounds okay, I guess."

"We'll talk then, she reassured. "And I'm sure your date will be just fine. Go have fun!"

Her reassurances only eased my nerves a little. We said our goodbyes and then I paced around, trying to calm down before calling Angie. It wasn't working, so I decided that I'd play a computer game for a while to relax.

I played, lost in the game, until hunger became an overriding distraction. I headed into the kitchen and glanced at the clock. Nine p.m.

"Shit!" I swore out loud. I still hadn't called Angie! Was it too late? Would she be upset? I wolfed down some leftovers while the adrenaline built. At 9:15 I took a few deep breaths and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" a feminine voice queried.

"This is John, may I speak with Angie?"

"Hi John, this is Angie."

"Uh, hi Angie, I'm, uh, hoping I'm not calling too late."

"It's not too late. I'm usually up until ten."

"Oh good, I, uh, didn' t want to wake you or anything."

"No, you didn't wake me," she replied. I realized I was sweating profusely.

"So, uh, 'Lord of the Rings.' Would you like to go Friday?"

"The day after Christmas? Sure! Ashley will be with her dad. What time?"

I realized I should have checked the papers before calling. I had no idea what the movie times were.

"Seven?" I suggested. "I'm sure we can catch a 7:30 or 8:00 show. Where do you live?"

"I'm in Arvada, near Wadsworth and I-70," she replied. Great! There were at least three good theaters near there that were likely to be showing 'The Return of the King.'

"How about if I pick you up?" I suggested.

"Sounds good!"

With that, she proceeded to give me directions, once I'd scrambled for a notepad and pencil. We said our goodnights after that and I hung up the phone. Then I crashed into a chair and put my head in my hands.

Well, I hadn't completely screwed up the phone call. Close, but not completely. I needed to be better prepared next time.

Which I was on Friday. I bought the movie tickets online and identified three restaurants, two bars, and two coffee shops that were all within a short distance in case Angie wanted to go out after the movie. Of course, the theater was attached to a Dave and Buster's, which I knew had a bar in addition to its game rooms. I washed my car, inside and out, and got a new air freshener. I spent some time agonizing about what clothes to wear, but finally settled on a button down shirt and slacks, making sure they were clean and wrinkle free. I checked both paper maps and Mapquest to establish the best routes to Angie's and then the movie and then hunted around online until I knew exactly where road construction was being done. Friday evening I started my preparations early and left with plenty of time to deal with late traffic snarls.

There weren't any. I arrived in Angie's neighborhood twenty minutes early. That was too much to sit in the car on her block. I eased into a strip mall and found an open parking place. I sat, wondering how to kill the time without letting my nerves run away from me. Then I noticed that one of the shops was a florist. Ten minutes later I was back in the car with a single red rose, wrapped with some sprigs of greenery that the florist had claimed would enhance its beauty. I wanted there to be no doubt that this was a date and not just 'friends' going out to a movie together.

I needn't have worried. Angie answered the door and oohed and ahhed over the rose. She was in a dressy full length skirt and dark sweater that set off her skin, giving her a warm aura. She'd obviously spent some time making sure her hair and makeup were perfectly set. She smiled at me constantly. I couldn't help but smile back. That seemed to brighten her even more.

When we got to the car, I unlocked her door and held it open for her.

"You are such a gentleman," she commented as she got settled.

"Aren't most guys?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised how many aren't," she muttered. I shrugged in response and headed around the car for my own door.

We made it to the movie just fine, though my detailed planning had overlooked the possibility that there might not be any good parking places left at the theater. I pulled into a spot in the far corner of the far lot. Then I turned to Angie.

"Well, the good news is, we can see the theater from here. If we could see the movie from here, we'd be set." Angie grinned at my joke instead of rolling her eyes.

Denver had not had a white Christmas this year. The air was crisp and we had to dodge a couple of patches of ice on our walk, but it was otherwise pleasant. When we arrived at the lobby, I turned to see how Angie was doing. Her cheeks were pink, giving her face a cherubic look. She caught me grinning.

"What?" she asked.

"Your cheeks are rosy from the cold," I replied. "Which seems appropriate for Christmas. You look like an angel."

Angie blushed and smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

We found seats without too much difficulty and enjoyed the film. Angie stayed seated until the final credits had rolled and we were the last ones in the auditorium.

"Would you like to go get a drink, or maybe coffee?" I asked.

"Sure! What did you have in mind?"

"Well, we could go into the Dave and Buster's here, or I know where there are some coffee shops and other bars and restaurants nearby." Angie furrowed her brow.

"Let's stay here, it's easier."

We wandered into Dave and Buster's and found a table in the bar that wasn't too noisy. We ordered beers and then an awkward silence fell. I didn't let it last but a short moment.

"So, what did you think?" I asked.

"I liked it! I think Jackson did a great job of wrapping it up and the critics that complained about too many endings were being unduly harsh."

"Really? I didn't read those reviews."

"Oh, I read them all." With that, we were off into a discussion of film critics, film reviews, and film publication. I quickly realized that Angie knew far more than I and dropped into just asking questions wherever her comments raised my curiosity. After a while, she noticed and began drawing me out about my own favorite films and what I'd liked about them.

"I guess I just like films with clever plots," I finally summarized, somewhere in the middle of our second round of beers. "I like it when it all makes sense."

Angie nodded, grinning. "But sometimes it makes sense in a non-traditional way. Like 'Lost in Translation.'"

"Haven't seen it," I replied. Angie paused to think for a moment.

"Okay, 'Casablanca.' The traditional ending would have been for Rick and Ilsa to end up together, or for Rick to sacrifice himself so Ilsa could escape. Instead, we have a great speech and the gendarme saying 'round up the usual suspects.' It's not traditional, but it makes sense, and it's part of what makes the movie great."

"I heard that they winged that ending. They didn't decide on it until they'd gotten most of the film made."

"I've heard that too," Angela replied.

Just then the waitress approached. "Last call," she said.

"Speaking of endings," I drawled. Angie smiled at me and reached for her purse as the waitress put the check down. I motioned for her to put it away.

"I asked you out," I said, "this is my treat."

"Will you let me pay next time?" she asked. My heart skipped a beat in surprise.

"If you ask me out," I said.

"I might do that." We sat smiling at each other for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It finally ended when I checked my watch.

"Two hours talking, wow. I've really enjoyed this."

"Me too." With that, we headed out towards the parking lot.

It was noticeably colder outside and most of the cars were gone. In compensation, the night was deep black, with shimmers and sparkles where lights reflected off metal or ice. We took a more direct route across the lot. Halfway there, Angie slipped on a patch of ice and started to wobble. I caught her hand and steadied her before she fell.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," I replied. We continued walking and she didn't let go of my hand. I just enjoyed her warmth pressed against my palm.

When we got to her door, Angie turned to me after unlocking it and smiled up at me.

"I had a great time," she said.

"Me too." Silence fell once again.

"I don't know how to end this date," I finally admitted. Angie looked a little surprised but only hesitated for a moment. She stepped in and gave me a kiss.

It was quick and fairly chaste. I managed to return it before she pulled back.

"Thanks for the movie and the beer," she said.

"You're welcome," I managed to reply. "Can I call you?"

"Of course." With that, she turned and went inside, leaving me to walk back to my car, wide eyed and smiling in my surprise.

The next day I did call Angie at a reasonable hour, when I was in control of my nerves. We talked for an hour, about film and books and Ashley. Angie had custody the following weekend and so was going to have a belated Christmas with her daughter and her parents. I suggested that we have our next date the weekend after that, on the Tenth. She agreed and mentioned that it would be nice to do something in the afternoon. I promised to think of something and get back to her. Scanning the papers, I came up with what promised to be a great idea. After checking on a couple of things, I called her back and asked if she would be up for a play. She liked the idea and was intrigued when I refused to name the show. I had started to fantasize about how I could make it a really memorable date, but wanted to talk to Tamara before I committed myself to anything that might backfire.

When Thursday the Eighth rolled around, I didn't immediately have a chance to ask for advice. Tamara answered the door, concern laced through her face.

"Billy was in a snowball fight after school on Tuesday," Tamara said. "He won't say much about it, but I think some of the kids were using iceballs. There's a bruise on his face. Can you talk to him?" I took a deep breath and nodded.

Billy's door was closed. I knocked and then waited. I was all set to knock again when the door opened. Billy gave me a wan smile and let me in.

I was shocked at Billy's face. Tamara had understated the bruise. This was a full shiner that ringed his left eye and extended across his cheek bone. Billy sat forlorn on the bed, staring at his feet. I sat next to him, not saying anything. We just sat, silent for some time, Billy kicking his feet.

"Can you teach me to fight, John?" Billy finally asked.

"Why do you need to know how to fight?" I asked as calmly as I could hold my voice.

"Jesse."

"Tell me about it."

"I was making snow angels during recess," he began. I nodded, the new snow we'd gotten that day would have been perfect for it. "They started messing them up and calling me a baby. Then after school they started throwing snowballs at me and calling me a Sped!"

"Who's 'they'?" I interrupted.

"Jesse and Frank! But after school a bunch of other kids joined them. I tried to run away but I wasn't fast enough. They kept calling me a Sped and a baby and then Jesse pushed me into a snow bank!"

"That must have hurt," I commented. Billy shrugged.

"Not much. It made me mad though. I tried to punch Jesse but I wasn't very good." He hung his head and stared at his shoes some more. I let the silence stretch for a while.

"So Jesse gave you the bruise?" I asked.

"Yeah." More silence followed.

"Jesse hit me a couple of times and I fell down," he continued. "Then a car came by and the driver got out. The other kids ran away. The man asked if I was okay and drove away when I said I was." I mentally thanked and cursed the unknown driver for his partial intervention. He'd obviously not bothered to get close enough to judge whether Billy was truly okay or not.

"So," I asked, again keeping my voice light, "why did you tell your mom you were hit by an iceball?"

"I didn't," he replied. "She just thinks that."

"Oh." Then I realized why he was keeping silent. "You couldn't tell your mom because you threw the first punch." Billy nodded in reply. I sat a moment to collect my thoughts on that revelation.

"I can remember being that mad," I began, "when kids used to tease me. I got in a few fights. I even threw the first punch a few times." Billy stopped looking at his shoes and stared at me.

"You got teased?"

"I'm The Ugly One, remember?" Billy nodded and looked back at his shoes.

"My problem," I continued, "was that there were too many kids. What do you think would have happened if you'd started winning a fight with Jesse? What would Frank have done?"

"Helped Jesse," Billy grudgingly admitted.

"And the other kids? Would they have helped?" Billy shrugged and shook his head simultaneously, which I interpreted as 'maybe.'

"So, even if you knew how to fight, do you think you could beat them all?"

"Neo could," he replied. I was startled, but I didn't want to ask when a ten year old had seen The Matrix.

"You're not Neo," I said. "Do you think you could beat all those kids even if you knew how to fight?" Billy hesitated before answering.

"No."

"Good."

"But I would have beaten Jesse!" Billy cried out.

"Maybe," I replied. "But even the best fighters lose occasionally." I was thinking of Buster Douglas beating Mike Tyson, but I knew Billy wouldn't get the reference. "So let's see if we can come up with a different way first. If that doesn't work, we'll teach you to fight." Well, not me. I'd lost every fight I'd been in. I was sure there were martial arts studios in the neighborhood though. Billy seemed to relax a little with the statement.

"Like what?" Billy then asked. I unintentionally let a sigh escape. The truth was, I'd never really figured out a good alternate way myself. What could I possibly suggest?

"I don't know, Billy," I admitted. "There are so many variables . . ." I trailed off and then realized he was staring at me, confused.

"Sometimes the right thing to do is different depending on the circumstances. Like how Robin Hood uses a sword when he's inside the castle instead of his bow."

Billy was nodding his head. "Because he wouldn't have room to shoot," he said.

"Right. So the best way to deal with Jesse could be different depending on whether it's recess or after school or whether it's just him or there are other kids around. . .

"Say, Billy, the other kids, after school, were they all teasing you?" Billy scrunched up his face as he thought.

"I dunno."

"Well, I'll bet that they weren't," I said. "I'll bet that some of them were just watching. They were following along to see what would happen." Billy looked confused.

"You know how people slow down to look at traffic accidents?" He gave a half hearted nod. "It's the same thing. I'll bet that some of the kids are just following along to watch what happens between you and Jesse."

"So?"

"So, those kids aren't your enemies. In fact, they might become friends or allies, particularly if Jesse or Frank has ever picked on them." Billy was frowning.

"Look, Billy. Robin Hood didn't stop the Sheriff by himself. He had his Merry Men. Who are your Merry Men?"

"You're Little John," he replied.

"Yes, but who is Friar Tuck, or Will Scarlett?" Billy was silent, thinking.

"I'll bet they're out there. You just have to figure out who they are first."

"How do I do that?" he asked.

"Watch them. Do they tease and bully other kids when Jesse does? Or does Jesse tease them too? Do they avoid him at recess or do they follow him around? I leaned over and dropped my voice to just above a whisper.

"The ones that tease other kids are just the Sheriff's men. We can deal with them later." I gave Billy my best nasty grin.

"We can beat Jessie and Frank, Billy," I sneered. "They're no better than the Sheriff of Nottingham, and you're Robin Hood." Billy grinned back at me, his mouth twisting into an evil grin matching my own. With the bruise, it was startling.

"I am Robin Hood," he sneered.

"You are," I replied. "And I'm Little John." Our sneers turned to smiles just as 'Dinner!' sounded from the other room.

"One other thing, Billy," I said as we started towards the door. "Don't throw the first punch again, okay? It only gives Jesse an excuse to hurt you more than he can otherwise." Billy nodded at that. I suspected he'd already learned the lesson.

I expected my own lessons, on love instead of war, to continue after dinner. Tamara waited until I got settled on the couch.

"How's Billy? Did he tell you what happened?"

"He's fine and yes he did."

"So what happened?" There was a mama bear firmness in her voice that intimidated me a little.

"He got in a fight."

"A fight! With who? I'll call the school!"

"No," I interrupted. She glared at me. Thank god her cub was in the other room and not right behind me.

"He needs to solve this one on his own." Tamara started to object but then thought better of it.

"I'll help him," I continued. "Give him advice and such. But he's got to figure out how to stop the teasing on his own, or it will continue forever."

"I suppose," Tamara admitted. "I can't take care of him forever." I nodded in agreement. We sat for a while, with her staring ahead.

"I wish I could, John," she finally said, breaking the silence. "I wish I could protect him from the teasing and the bullies and the fights. It was horrible to see that bruise."

"If you protect him, he'll always be a child," I said in measured tones.

"Oh, I know. He needs to be able to fend for himself and he needs to have the confidence that he can do so. I just . . .

"I just think of how happy he is when he's playing, making his little battles or playing with his bow and arrows. How he'd run to me with some new fact he'd found in his books on Robin Hood, all glowing. Those times . . . it's hard when I can't see the light in his eyes like those times."

I reached over and squeezed her hand. Tamara smiled at me and sighed. Her eyes met my own.

"Changing the subject, how did the date go?" she asked.

"It went well," I admitted, grinning with the memory. "We had a great time at the movie and talking afterwards. She kissed me goodnight at the end of the evening. I had to admit that I didn't know how to end the evening and then she kissed me."

"Good for you!"

"Yeah," I agreed, a little embarrassed at Tamara's enthusiasm. "I've been thinking about that since then, though. What should I have done? Should I have tried to kiss her? Should I have asked?"

"It sounds like you did just fine."

"Maybe. Well, yes. But I wish I'd known what I should have done. I mean what should I do next time?"

"On your next date with Angie?"

"Or the next time I go on a first date, if things don't work out with Angie."

"Well, in both of those cases, it depends a lot on the circumstances. Whether you kiss her or not can depend on the woman, her mood, or a bunch of other things. You have to decide based on the details you observe at the time."

I rolled my eyes. Tamara caught me.

"I just told Billy basically the same thing," I admitted.

"Then you understand," she replied. "You have to pay attention."

"But I don't know what to pay attention to," I commented.

"It's hard to list all the things that you could pay attention to," she admitted. "However, there is one general rule. If she wants you to do something, like kiss her, she'll make it easy for you."

"What do you mean?"

"How she stands or holds her body. How she tilts her head." I was still confused.

"Here, stand up and I'll show you."

With that we were both on our feet. Tamara planted herself in front of me, nearly touching, belly to belly. Then she stepped back, almost to arm's length, and turned her body a little to the side. Her head tilted down and her smile was tight and close-lipped. It reminded me of a fencer's pose.

"Now how easy would it be for you to kiss me?" she asked.

"Damn near impossible," I replied. "You're too far away and turned funny." She nodded in reply and then stepped back into her original position. This time she dropped her shoulders and tilted her head back, so her cheek and lips were closer to my own. Her smile was wide and relaxed. Her eyes flicked from my own to my lips and back to my eyes a couple of times.

"Now?" she asked.

An impulse seized me and I wrapped my arms around her, dropping my lips to hers. Tamara let me kiss her for a moment before she pulled back.

"See?" she said. "You'll do fine on your next date with Angie."

With that, she completely disentangled from me and sat back down on the couch. I started to panic that my impulse had been a disaster but Tamara seemed calm, which was reassuring. I sat back down.

"So what are you planning for your next date?" she asked. I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Let me tell you about it," I began. "I'd like your opinion on some of my ideas." With that, I began to tell Tamara of my plans for that Saturday. She smiled and laughed at some of the details. She suggested I omit a couple of things and offered a few refinements in other areas. By the time Billy had finished the dishes, I was feeling really good about my plan.

Tamara suggested we end the evening by playing a board game, all three of us. Billy was enthusiastic, picking a game that he'd learned to play with his cousins over Christmas. He won too, just about the time it was necessary for me to head home. Tamara sent him to bed and then gave me a long, long hug at the door. As I walked to my car, I noticed the light come back on in Billy's room, just enough later to be a mother checking on her child.

I dreamed of mama bears that night. They spread picnic baskets out and ate honey from pots as the baby bears romped with each other and a host of smaller animals. They offered me berries, which I had to eat without using my hands. I only awoke once, at three a.m., before drifting off again to a deep, relaxed sleep.

--Fin--

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Read the next chapter in this story: Chapter Seven.

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