Where Glenn Frey meets the lower bunk…
The Amtrak train came twenty minutes late. Our car was the near the rear and we walked quickly to the gate and got on board. An elderly black porter met us in the passageway; his nametag
read “Phillip.” He opened the door of our compartment with a big smile as he handed me two keys, telling me the restaurant car opened at 6:00 AM.
“Thank you, Phillip.” I steered him aside. “My wife and I are on our honeymoon and we are absolutely exhausted,” I whispered quietly to him. “In the morning, maybe you can bring us some food from the dining car.”
“It would be my great pleasure, sir,” he smiled. “There's a menu on the table inside. If you check off what you want and slide it out under the door, I'll take care of everything.”
“Thanks. But, I have another problem, too. My wife's brother's with the FBI and he's a real joker. He and a couple of our other friends love to pull pranks.” I handed him a folded one-hundred dollar bill. “That's so you won't tell anyone that you saw us, or saw anybody that looks like us. Now, he's clever. He'll probably flash a badge and growl and bluster, and tell you we're wanted for something, but you never saw us, okay? Because I have another hundred in my pocket if we make it to Boston undisturbed.”
“Yes, sir!” Phillip said as he reached up and switched the placard on the door from Occupied to Vacant. “And don't you worry, Mister… Smith. I shall see to it personally that no one bothers you or your wife. Now, ya'll have a good night.”
I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.
“That was really sneaky, Talbott,” Sandy said. She was no more than two feet away from me, which was about as far apart as we were likely to get for quite a while.
I looked around. “My bedroom closet in California was bigger than this.” The entire compartment was only 6’ 6” by 7’ 6”, with a couch along one wall and a pull-down bunk above it. Both had been made up for the night. There was also a small armchair and a fold-down table with a big window above it. There was a smaller window by the upper bunk and a tiny restroom by the door that contained a toilet, a sink, and a shower.
“All the comforts of home,” Sandy said as she pulled down the shades.
No, I thought, all the comforts of a closet. And I'm about to spend the entire night in here with you, just the two of us, when I was uncomfortable being alone with you in your aunt's much larger apartment last night. Thank God for bunk beds.
We sat side-by-side on the lower bunk for the next ten, very awkward minutes, waiting for the train to leave. “I don't know about you,” I said, “but I'm exhausted.”
“I'll flip you for the lower,” she said, patting the bunk.
“No way.” I sprawled out on my back. “I'm too damned tired to climb.”
Finally, the train shuddered and began to move. It slowly gathered speed and pulled out of the station and we began to relax.
“Okay. I'm going to take a shower and wash my hair,” Sandy announced as she stood up in front of me. “But you and I need to get a couple of things straight.” She pulled her new blue top over her head and stood in front of me in her bra, which wasn't much more than a very thin strip of form-fitting, silk. “I usually sleep in the nude, but I promised you I'd behave. I'm not going to sleep in my new clothes either, so that only leaves the bra and panties, okay?” She looked down at me, waiting for me to say something, but I couldn't. “Besides, by the time you and I reach Boston tomorrow night, there won't be much we haven't seen or bumped into, no matter what we wear or don't wear.”
“I guess you're right,” I said.
“Good, because I don't want to upset you again.”
“You aren't upsetting me.”
“No? Well that's good to hear.” She was watching my eyes as she let the skirt-shorts drop to the floor and she stood there in her panties. There wasn't very much to them either, and a thin smile crossed her lips as she knew I was lying.
“I assume you'll keep your shorts on,” she added. “I don't think I could stand the excitement.” With that, she turned, went into the shower, and closed the door. I stripped down to my shorts and turned out the light. I reached down to the end of the bed and raised the window shade half-way up so I could see outside. There was a thin, quarter-moon in the sky, and thin clouds racing by. I slipped under the sheet and soon heard the water running.
Twenty minutes later, the shower door opened and Sandy walked past me. There were three foot holds on the end wall. She scampered into the upper bunk without saying a word. I didn't either, but neither could I fall asleep. I lay on my back with my eyes closed. Every few minutes, she would flip noisily from one side to the other, fluff the pillow, pull the blanket up, then push it down, and then flip back over again. This went on for another twenty minutes.
“Pe-ter,” I finally heard a little-girl voice call down to me. I opened my eyes and saw her face looking over the side of the bunk at me. “Can I come down there? Just to sleep. Please? I really, really promise I'll behave, but I hate it up here and I don't want to be alone tonight. Just let me be next to you, like in the movie theater, please?”
The bunk was only three feet wide. I never said yes, but as I shifted back against the wall, she was out of her bunk, down in mine, and under the sheet before I could say no.
She pressed her bare back up against me and pulled my arm over her. “Thank you,” she said. “Good night.” She yawned and the next thing I heard were soft, sleep sounds.
I raised my head and looked at her. I couldn't believe it, but she really was asleep. Lying there in the faint moonlight, I thought she was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen — childlike, yet all woman. Me? I was afraid to move. Lying next to each other like that, we had a lot of skin touching and I could feel the firm contours of her body pressed against me. I could feel her soft breathing. I could smell her hair right under my nose, and a hint of perfume. This was the closest I had come to girl smells in a long, long time and I realized how much I missed them. Behaving? God, I really wished she wasn't.
In the hospital, toward the end, Terri and I had talked about this. “ I love you, Peter, but when I'm gone, you've got to move on,” Terri said. “Promise me you'll find someone.”
“I promise,” I humored her, but I had no idea then what that would mean.
“I know you Peter Talbott. You weren't meant to be alone. You have too much to give and you must find someone to give it to. Now promise me. If you don't, I'm going to haunt you.” That was our joke then. Now, I wasn't so sure.
My mind flashed back to a happier night, when Terri slept next to me on the beach. We had made love and there was nothing covering us but the moonlight. It all came flooding back — the two of us running barefoot through the sand, the tall palms, the patio of the little house, the smell of the red and green bougainvillea bushes, and soft sound of the surf rolling onto the sand. In the distance, I heard a radio playing the Eagles' “Hotel California.” You can check out any time you like, but you never can leave. Glenn Fry was more right than he would ever know.
I touched Sandy's hair, ever so lightly, and I touched her cheek with the back of my hand. She didn't wake, but her head moved ever so slightly and I thought I saw a faint smile on her lips. I looked out through the window and I knew Terri was up there, watching us.
“She's lovely, Peter,” Terri told me. “She's smart and she's funny.”
“Like you,” I whispered. “Lovely, smart, and funny, but you were taller.”
“Yes, Peter, I was taller. But she needs you now, and I do not need you any longer, my love. She does, every bit as much as you need her. My time is over now, and she's so full of life. You need to open yourself up and love her, as you loved me.”
I knew she was right, but could I let her go that easily? Could I? I pulled my hand away and closed my eyes.
When I woke, the first pink light of dawn was streaming in under the shade. I was squeezed back against the wall and Sandy was lying on her side facing me, her head propped up on an elbow, her eyes only inches away from mine, wide open, staring at me. I had seen enough of her moods by now to know something was wrong.
“What time is it?” I asked
“About 6:00.”
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” she answered woodenly. I gave her a look and she knew that was not going to be enough. Laying next me like this, I could feel the tension in her and see it in her eyes. She was like a rubber band stretched to its limit and about to snap. “All right,” she finally said, you were talking in your sleep. You said Terri's name a couple of times… No, you said it more than a couple of times.”
“Me? I never talk in my sleep.”
“Well, last night you did.” I could tell she was choosing her words very carefully now. “I know I shouldn't ask you this. I know I should be a big girl and let it run its course, but I can't. I need to know about Terri. I need for you to tell me about her.”
“Tell you about Terri?” I smiled.
“I may never get this chance again, Peter. I need to know what I'm up against.” She laid a hand on my chest. “I need to know if there's enough room in there for me too.”
She rolled over, pressed her back up against me, and pulled my arm over hers again. “Okay, I'm not looking at you,” she said. “My eyes are closed, I'll shut up. Now, tell me all her, and about you. Then I'll tell you about me. Yesterday you said we didn't know much about each other. Well, by the time we get off this train we will, and maybe we can figure out what we're going to do with each other, okay?”
This moment had terrified for the past two days; no, for the past year. Now that it had come, the anxiety, the tension, and all the guilt were gone. Suddenly, I didn't mind her asking and I didn't feel awkward telling her about Terri, either. In fact, there were many things I wanted to tell Sandy now.
“That isn't necessary. I already know what I'm going to do with you.” I reached over and stroked her hair again. “It's okay.”
She twisted around and looked up at me, wide-eyed. “It's okay? It's really okay?”
“Yes, and you're okay, too.” I picked up her hand and pressed it against my chest. “There's as much room in there as you want.” I bent forward and kissed her.
She threw her arms around my neck and put me in a lip lock, as tears rolled down her cheeks. Finally, she came up for air and asked, “You said everything's okay?”
“Yes, everything's okay.” I pulled her to me and we kissed a long, deep kiss as she melted in my arms. “And you're okay too.”
She pushed me on my back and rolled on top of me. “Then this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever had to ask a man in my life, but would you make love to me? Now? Is that okay too?” I smiled and nodded. “Good,” she said as she put her hand on my chest again. ‘Because if you'd said no, I'd have smacked you so hard your eyes would cross.”
It seemed as if it was over in a matter of minutes. We made love quickly and with far more energy and passion than skill and after all the build-up, I felt embarrassed. I lay next to her, sweating, desperate to think of something intelligent to say.
Sandy beat me to it. “It's been a long time; I hope I didn't hurt you.”
“No, but I thought we might break the bunk or knock the train off the tracks.”
“You did knock my train off the tracks,” she kissed me on the chest, softly and gently. “And I don't want to create an ego problem, but it's never been like that.”
“You are amazing,” I told her.
“Yeah, I am, aren't I? And I'll bet if we give it another try, I can even be more amazing.”
She was and we were.
Later, we lay there in the bunk wrapped tightly around each other, as if we couldn't get enough. The window shade was up and the bright, early morning sunlight fell across us. The sky was a clear, high blue, with white clouds blowing past. I couldn't see Terri's face, but I knew she was there, watching, happy for me, happy for us, happy for all of us.
“She's your biggest fan,” I told Sandy as I looked out the window.
Sandy raised her head, looked at me, then followed my eyes out the window and thought it over. “Terri?” she asked in a small voice. I nodded. Slowly, Sandy looked back out the window again and pulled the sheet up over her. “You kept saying her name in your sleep last night.”
“It's not like that.”
“It's not huh?” She turned back and looked at me, our faces only inches apart. “Because you really creeped me out there for a second.”
“All I know, is that all the guilts are gone now. In the hospital in LA, when she was dying, she told me I had to find someone else after she was gone. She knew I'm a one-girl-kinda-guy and how hard this would be hard for me. That's why I know she's happy now.”
“Good,” she said as she kissed me again. “But next time we do this, would you mind if I pull the shade down? I can get as kinky as the next girl, but this bunk is only so big and even I have my limits.”
We both laughed, but I swore I heard Terri laughing along with us. “ Like I said, Peter,” I heard her say to me. “She's smart and she's funny, and you need her. Now, goodbye Peter, goodbye. You don't need me anymore.”
At 7:15, we slipped the menu under the door and took a break.
“This love stuff burns a lot of calories and I'm starved,” Sandy said as we ordered most of the items on the menu. When Phillip came back at 7:45, I opened the door far enough to take the big tray from him.
“You can relax, sir,” he said. “Ain't nobody been askin’ ‘bout nobody or nothin’.”
“Great, Phillip.” I handed him cash for the breakfasts and a big tip. “We have a long stop in Albany, don't we?”
“Yes, sir, just before noon, usually forty-five minutes. Ya'll can get off and stretch a bit if you like, while they switch the other cars to the New York train.”
I locked the door and turned around with the tray. Sandy had grabbed two towels from the shower. She had tied one around her waist and the other hung around her neck so the ends covered her chest. “Sorry.” she shrugged as she pulled out the small fold-down table and sat on the end of the lower bunk. “I'm too hungry to get dressed.”
We sat opposite each other eating, but as the minutes passed, she grew strangely quiet. “What's wrong?” I asked her.
“There are some things I need to tell you.” Her eyes never left her plate.
“No you don't.”
“Yes, I do. At my aunt's, back in Chicago, I really wanted to make love to you.”
“I know that, but it would have been sex, not love.”
“I know that too. This isn't easy for me to say, so please let me get it all out. The last couple of years have been bad. Nothing was working for me. I was lonely. I was desperate for a little warmth, a little affection. I had started drinking again, drinking a lot, and I knew I couldn't get much lower. So, if a one-night stand with a nice guy like you was the best I could get, I wasn't going to turn it down.” She raised her head and looked at me, tears running down her cheeks. “But I have never done anything like that before, Peter, I swear it,” she said, trembling. “Never.”
“Sandy, don't blame yourself. God knows, I wanted to, but if I had…”
“I know. But when you rejected me, I was crushed. I was angry, lonely, and very depressed.” Tears were running down her cheeks, and she looked like a small, very scared little girl. I reached over with my napkin and wiped the tears away. “On the El, when I told you there was nothing for me to go back to in Chicago, I really meant it. I hate to use the “S” word, but if you had dumped me downtown yesterday or over on State, I probably would have killed myself.” She kissed my hand and gave me a pained smile. “I'm over all that now. I am, really. So, if I'm still here, driving you crazy today, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“We really are a pair, aren't we?” I said. “I talk to ghosts and you're suicidal.”
“Not anymore.” She touched my hand. “So you can keep all your memories of Terri, and you can talk to her any time you want… as long as I can pull the shade down every now and then.”
I set the tray outside in the corridor and we lay in the lower bunk wrapped around each other for the rest of the morning. It had been a long, painful time since I felt this close to anyone, to someone who I knew needed me as much as I need her.
“You don't suppose this whole thing is just a big adrenalin rush after the Dan Ryan, do you,” I asked as I drew lazy circles on her back with my finger.
“I don't care what it is. I'm not moving… well, except maybe to do that.”
“It's almost 11:00. That stop in Albany is coming up and we need to call Hardin.”
“You'd rather do that than lay here with me like this, stark naked?”
“No, but we can come back and you can have me for the whole afternoon.”
“That's what all the boys say.”
The train rolled on through the beautiful, wooded and hilly upper New York countryside as we got dressed. Sandy gave her head a violent shake and scratched her head wildly with both hands for a few seconds, sending her hair scattering in every direction. She gave it two or three pats to push down the worst parts. “There!” she said. “I'm ready.”
The Albany station was in the lower part of downtown. We looked through the windows but didn't see any cops, strange sedans, or guys in suits and sunglasses, so we got off train and found two pay phones inside the station. I dropped in a couple of quarter and called Senator Hardin's office. As they connected us, I handed Sandy the phone. “You're good at this, get him on the line,” I said.
“Hi,” she said in a bubbly voice into the phone. “Is the Senator in?… I'm sure he is. Tell him Sandy Kasmarek, the cute little butt in the blue silk dress who worked for him in Chicago, is on the phone, and she's pregnant.” She looked up at me and winked. “You still won't interrupt him? Okay, okay, then tell him Peter Talbott is standing next to me… Ah! That name he does know. Yeah, honey, I'll wait… and I was just kidding about the pregnant part… Yeah, I know you knew.” She covered the mouthpiece and whispered to me, “When ya gets 'em down, ya pounds lumps on 'em,”
“Who told you that? Bobby McNally?”
“No, Father Tony.” She turned back to the phone. “Hi, Tim, you too… Well, we've been kinda busy. There aren't too many phones out here in the woods.” She rolled her eyes back and forth, mocking him. “The stories in the newspapers? I didn't know we were such celebrities… And you got the overnight package? Good… Yeah, he's standing right here… No, no problem, here he is,” she said as she handed me the phone.
“Senator, good to talk to you,” I said. “Did you look those papers over?”
“I sure did, Pete — may I call you Pete? — and I interviewed that fat creep Panozzo long enough to know that stuff you sent me is real.”
“Good, because I've got two more drives full of that stuff. One must have a hundred other syndicate-front businesses on it. The other has all the payoffs to cops and politicians, the overseas investments, foreign bank accounts, all of that stuff.”
Hardin went silent for a moment. “Two more drives of that stuff, huh? And all the payoffs. Well, that's dynamite, Pete, absolute dynamite. But those notes of yours about Ralph Tinkerton and those people in Ohio…”
“I can prove it, Senator. Every word.”
“You can, huh? Where are you? We need to get you off the street.”
“Tennessee at the moment, but we're headed your way.”
“Look, Pete, you're in real danger. I can have some people…”
“You have enough to do with what I already sent you. Check out those names, the death certificates, and the graves in Columbus. I'll call you in a day or two, when we get to Washington. Ciao.” I hung up on him. Hardin? The left half of my brain trusted him, because he was a U. S. Senator and because we didn't have very many other options. But, the right half told me I'd be a fool to bet my life on any Washington politician.
I saw Philip again as we got back on the train and had him bring us some lunch, then we locked ourselves in the compartment. Like Sandy said earlier, all that lovin’ stuff burns a lot of calories. That it did. After we ate, I folded the upper bunk up into the wall and lay down on the lower with my clothes on.
Sandy stripped down to her underwear again and looked down at me. “You don't want a bunch of ugly wrinkles in those new clothes now, do you?” she scrunched up her nose and slowly slipped out of the underwear too. I shook my head and started to get undressed, but she pushed my hands away. “No,” she said. “It's my turn.” She slipped out of her bra and panties and with tantalizing slowness, undressed me. Then she pushed me down on the bunk and we made love again. Afterward, she rolled over, put her head on my chest, and we both fell into a deep sleep.
It was 3:00 when Sandy yawned and stretched, supple and sensuous like a big cat unwinding from a long nap. “How long until we get to Boston?” she asked.
“Two, maybe three hours.”
“You're kidding. I must have dozed off.”
“Dozed? Yeah, that was what it was. I'll take the first shower,” I said as I started to roll over her and get up.
“Wait a minute.” She pushed me back down and put a finger on my lips. “Don't say a word. This should not come as a big surprise to you, but I am utterly in love with you, Peter Talbott. I know you can't use the “L” word yet, and I'm okay with that. But every now and then, give me a little squeeze or a kiss or something so I know you still like me, okay? But not a word. Please. Or you'll break the spell. I'm going to slip into the shower now, and then we'll do your hair.”
Actually, we discovered that even a tiny Amtrak shower could hold two people and a lot of fun. Afterward, she came back in with the bottle of blonde hair dye and wrapped a towel around my shoulders. “We could go for the sun-drenched, poofy-blonde surfer look,” she said. “Or the tousled, freaked-out, white-haired, Rod Stewart look. Or, I could really screw it up, turn your hair green, and watch it fall out in big clumps.”
“How about the former beautician with the black eye look?”
It took her about a half hour, but after I toweled it dry and combed it, I looked at myself in the mirror. The hair and eyebrows were now a nice, natural blonde and the face looking back at me didn't look anything like mine.
“Not bad for a bimbo beauty school graduate, is it?” she asked.
“Well, you never told me you graduated. You going to do yours, too?”
“The black is so… me. But, yeah, I thought I'd try a light brown.”
“Good choice. While you do that, I'll order us an early dinner. The train gets into South Station in Boston at 6:30, but I thought we'd off at Framingham at 5:50 and catch a local into the city. That'll get us closer to Doug's house and we can avoid any unfriendly eyes waiting for us downtown.”
Framingham was in the far western suburbs. We stepped down on the platform and I said goodbye to Phillip, expecting the SWAT team to jump out of the bushes any minute with bullhorns and riot guns, but nothing happened. The streets around the small station were filled with dozens and dozens of luxury cars and SUVs waiting for the commuter trains from the city. We walked into the waiting room. It had four ticket windows, only one of which was open, and a newsstand that sold a little bit of everything from cigarettes to newspapers, candy, and maps. I went over and picked up a Rand McNally map of Boston that showed the railroad and subway routes on one side and a street map on the other.
“You live here,” Sandy said. “What do you need a map for?”
“I only moved here two months ago. Other than driving to the office in Waltham from my “suck-ass” little apartment in Lexington, as Gino called it, and maybe the Red Sox game Doug dragged me to, you probably know Boston better than I do.”
I looked at the map while she went to the window and bought two commuter train tickets When she came back, we walked outside to the tracks and went around to the other side of a billboard that screened us from the station and the street.
“Another billboard, another train station. Wanna neck?” She pressed against me and moved gently back and forth. “Hmmm. Something tells me you don't mind anymore.”
I leaned my chin on the top of her head. “How much time do we have?”
“About ten minutes. Not enough, is it? So you owe me one.”
“Are you keeping count?”
“You better believe it. An opportunity lost is an opportunity lost… Sister Eugenia.”
The commuter train was on time, but it was a local milk run that stopped at every little station, which was exactly what I wanted. It dropped underground and we finally reached the Back Bay station at 7:00. We walked through the station and took the long flight of stairs up to the street, but nothing looked out of place.
“We're getting pretty good at this sneaky stuff, aren't we?” Sandy asked as we hurried off up Exeter Street. The shadows were getting long and it would be dark soon. A line of storms had swept through while we were on the train, leaving the streets wet and the early evening air warm and damp. I looked up. The sky was clearing. The stars were coming out and it would be a good night for walking.
“Have you ever been here before?” I asked.
“Boston was our spring trip my senior year of high school. Half the class lost their virginity that weekend.”
“What happened to the other half?”
“They became nuns.”
“So, that's the part you remember most? The churches?”
She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Actually, about all I do remember is a bunch of kids running through the subway cars singing about getting poor Charlie and the MTA.” She pointed back to the round sign with the blue “T” over the subway entrance. “But they called it the “T” by then and that ruined the whole thing. Don't worry, though. I know Boston like the back of my hand; I've read all the Spenser books.”
She wrapped herself around my arm. “Are you still okay with this?’
“Are you going to keep asking?”
“About every five minutes, so you better get used to it.”
Being a man of few words, I lifted her off the ground and gave her a big kiss.
Back Bay had been the old Charles River marshes that land speculators had filled in the nineteenth century, so it was the only part of the old city with a sensible grid pattern. It had five boulevards — Beacon, Marlborough, Commonwealth, Newberry, and Boylston Streets — plus some short side streets. Commonwealth ran down the middle, with a wide, park-like strip of trees, grass, formal gardens, and flowerbeds called the Mall in its median. Back Bay was nice, with big trees overhanging the sidewalks and streets. From there it was an easy walk to Harvard, Fenway Park, the Band Shell, Filene's, the Markets downtown, and the financial district. That made a Back Bay townhouse one of the most fashionable and expensive addresses in Boston. Obviously, Doug's lifestyle had improved since his nine-hundred square foot apartment in Glendale.
The sun was setting. I had my arm around Sandy's shoulder and she had her arm around my waist as we walked, looking to all the world like lovers out for a stroll. As darkness set in, we made circled Doug's block, turning west one street short of Marlborough and walked up Commonwealth a few streets, turning north again and crossing Marlborough, then walking east on Beacon back to Exeter. The streetlights came on, the pavement glistened beneath our feet as we walked, and it was surprisingly quiet. Perhaps the lush canopy of dripping oaks screened out the big city noise. Whatever, my docksiders sounded like Clydesdale hoofs on the cobblestones. I checked the parked cars even more closely. Still, I saw nothing. Were they that good? Was I that stupid? Or, had no one been there to begin with?