Her Thirties Part 66 A Disturbing Flashback

Cindy

I bought a car that was over 75 years old so I could savor the era that Marilyn was from.

Something was born in me when I traded in my Camaro for a Packard. It was a milestone and Abe and I both knew it.

Later that night, I came back down and sat in the Packard in the deserted parking lot. As I sat there inhaling the familiar fragrance of the past, I started to cry—I don’t know why. I had never been so happy and sad at the same time.

It was a melancholy presentiment I knew—but about what? A sense of dread filled me.

I sat there while darkness gathered, inhaling the incense of the Thirties and hoping for a glimpse of the future.

In the end, no privileged vision was granted me. I returned to my apartment wearied and ready for bed.

I didn’t wake until the following morning—it was April Fools Day and Cam’s anniversary party.

I knew Cam would phone, anxious and flustered about his guest list—I could almost lay odds on when the phone would ring—and was not surprised when it did—at exactly half-past ten.

“Hey, Scott—you up?”

“I am now,” I yawned.

“Must be nice to live the quiet life of an academic,” he said wistfully.

I smiled inwardly. Little did he know.

“Have you got a costume?”

“I went to Malabar’s and was considering a Zoot suit—but settled instead for a nice staid Thirties tux.”

“Ha-ha. Staid is good.”

I bet you think so, I mused.

“I wanted to tell you there’s lots of parking at the Palais Royale, but later on, when you drop over to our condo, just use the guest parking.”

“If it’s a nice night, we might walk.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Gee, I don’t know Cam—maybe because it’s romantic.”

He snorted knowingly. “You always were a player, Scott—I’ll see you around six.”

A player? What planet was he on? I had to beg a date for my Senior Prom and at my university graduation party I ended up with someone’s kid sister.

Still, Cindy liked me.

That way madness lies, I told myself, let me shun it.

I got up, put on jeans and a sweatshirt, and went downstairs to the parking lot to sit in my car.

The same feeling was there—an unreasoning sadness.

I ran my hand over the leather car seats. What are you trying to tell me?

I’d like to say an angel came down on flaming pies, or a voice spoke from heaven, but it didn’t happen—everything was ominously silent. I realized then, I hadn’t had any flashbacks lately. That also worried me.

I looked around furtively to see if I were being watched. Nothing. I felt I was starting to get paranoid. I took deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down.

I switched on the radio and caught the tail end of the weather forecast: High today, of 46—rain off and on all day, tapering off in the evening.

Happy Anniversary, Cam, I smiled. Well, what the hell—he got engaged on April Fool’s Day—what did he expect?

As if in reply, the windshield darkened, acting like a magnet—attracting huge raindrops that splattered like black cherries—and then, the downpour began.

I sat back, closed my eyes and listened to the drum of the rain.

Images flashed across an inner screen. A smoke-filled room where tough-looking men sat huddled round a table—a swollen lake, dimpled with rain and lonely white waves rushing shoreward.

Cliffs, I recognized dimly—Scarborough Bluffs, perhaps?

Then, a heart-wrenching sob of pain twisted my gut and doubled me over—and then, complete blackness.

I hunched over—my forehead against the steering wheel—my hands perspiring.

A sharp rap on the window startled me. I rolled it down. Cindy, still in her baseball cap, her jacket collar pulled up, pointed to the passenger door. “Open up!”

She walked around and climbed in.

“You look like shit,” she said. “I thought someone got to you.”

“Naw—nothing like that. I’m good.”

“Tell your face.”

She reached across and pushed the hair back from my eyes. “Hey, you don’t look so hot. You want me to drive you to Emerg?”

“I’ll be okay—just a panic attack.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You take meds for that?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I’m not leaving till I know you’re safe.”

“Fine.”

She fiddled with the tuning knob of the radio. “You get satellite on this? I kinda like the Love station.”

I groaned.

“Feeling better, huh?” Her green eyes danced.

With her long red hair and flawless skin she was incredibly beautiful up close. “Don’t you ever think you’re pushing your luck?” I hissed.

“Naw, I’m not that lucky,” she smiled mischievously.

She leaned across, pecked me on the cheek and got out. “I’ve got my eye on you,” she sang out as she walked back across the lot.

I deliberately averted my gaze. My life was complicated enough.

I waited until I was sure the pain in my gut subsided, then got out, and ran back to my building through the splashing rain.

I had been up about an hour, but needed to lie down.

I was desolate. I caught a glimpse of my past and it didn’t augur well for my future.

© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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