Wanderlust

By Jeff Eblen

Jim pulled up into the driveway. Barbara’s car was parked off center again, so he parked behind her. He put his cigarette out on the driveway and stepped out of his Trans Am. It was dark already. The streetlights pushed his shadow against the garage. He walked to the front door, picked up the newspaper, and shoved it under his arm. The door was unlocked. Cinnamon incense escaped when he entered. “Hello.” he called out.

“Hello, baby!” Barbara yelled from the other end of the house.

“Did you get the mail?” Jim put his lunch bag and the newspaper on the recliner. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

“No!” Barbara yelled.

Jim turned the station to eight and then went back outside. There were three bills in the mailbox: Pacific Power, JC Penny, and State Farm. He put them on top of the newspaper on the recliner. He took his leather jacket off, and placed it on the coat hanger next to the door.

“Be right there! I’m doing laundry!” Barbara screamed from the back room.

Jim sat down on the couch and turned the station to two, the TV guide channel. That was no good, though; because it had scrolled past the listings he wanted to look at.

“Hello, baby.” Barbara said as she came in with an armful of towels. She squatted down, he sat up, and they kissed. “Do you like the incense? They were handing it out free at Montgomery Park today.”

“It’s nice. Isn’t ball on tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Barbara left to put the towels up. She called back, “Check the newspaper, its on the porch.”

Jim kicked off his shoes and went into the kitchen to get a drink.

His beverage of choice was gin and tonic on the rocks. He sat the drink on the coffee table and flicked back to two, but he missed the listings again.

Channel eight was still news.

Channel six was Friends.

Channel twelve was Raymond.

Channel two was still not listing what he wanted.

Channel eight was still news.

“Shit.” Jim sat back and stared up at pictures Barbara had placed around the home of him and her. She always looked happy in the pictures. He was happy in two pictures. One was when they had gone to the bike show. The other was a picture she had taken when he was asleep.

Jim flicked through the channels. He stopped at seven, the Discovery Channel. A mouse was masturbating in the middle of a maze. It was some kind of documentary. The mouse wasn’t masturbating though; it was actually hugging and nibbling a chunk of cheese. Then the picture cut to a cat moving through that same maze. The narrator said, “The amazing story here is that the mouse knows that a cat is coming. It can smell it. The longer the mouse stays, the more eminent the doom. Still, the mouse eats the cheese, and mind you, Jerry, as we’ve come to call him, is not starving.”

Jim turned to channel eight, which was finally announced the beginning of the ball game. “Lets hear it for your Blaaaaaazers!” The camera panned the crowd. People were still searching for their seats.

And everything flickered, the lights, the TV, and then everything went dark.

“What the fuck.” Jim got up and smacked his shins on the coffee table. “What the fuck! Barbara!”

“Oh, are you okay?” Barbara was coming down the hall.

“What happened to the electricity?”

“How should I know? I was putting up clothes.” She moved aside as he moved past her.

“Did you start the dryer?”

“Yes, but the dryer didn’t do this.” She followed him down the hall. He stopped when he got to the laundry room. It was pitch black in there. “Why do you think I did this?”

“I didn’t say that.” Jim went into the room that was supposed to be his study, but had turned into her storeroom. The flashlight was where he thought it would be.

“Right, Jim. You didn’t even think that did you!” Barbara followed him into the laundry room.

“The dryer might have shorted the circuit. Or the washer.” He moved through the box maze until he came to the washer and dryer.

“Or the TV, Jim, or something else entirely!” Barbara left the laundry room.

Jim found the fuse box, but all the fuses were fine.

When he got back to the living room, Barbara was looking out the front window. “Looks like the whole neighborhood is out!”

“What?”

“The whole neighborhood is out,” she said.

Jim grunted, turned off the flashlight, and sat down on the couch. They both sat there in silence. Barbara looked at her feet that were propped up on the coffee table. Jim looked past her, out the front window. The moon was full and shone across the neighbors’ rooftops.

Barbara sighed, “So tell me about your day.”

“It was fine,” Jim said, “Nothing much happened.” An airplane moved across the moon. Jim watched it until it disappeared, “Same ‘ol. Same ‘ol.”

“Guess what happened to me today.”

“What?” Jim reached across the coffee table and grabbed his gin and tonic.

“Guess.”

“I don’t know.” Jim took a drink.

“I was able to get two tickets to ACDC.”

Jim said nothing at first. He swirled his drink and stared at the moon shining against the ice. Then he asked, “Really?”

“Seriously. For you and me, if you want to come.” She was looking at him now. He just played with his drink.

“Yeah, that would be great,” he gave her a quick smile, “How did you get them?”

“You know Camille?” Jim nodded. “Well she told me her brother…” As Barbara went through the details, Jim continued to nod. And he also kept putting his straw in the gin, putting it to his mouth, and sucking. The moon played on the curtains and wood paneling behind Barbara. “Did you hear me? Forty dollars! That was it.”

“Forty? Wow, uh, are you sure…” He stopped and looked down at his drink again. The ice was melting. “Never mind.”

“What? What were you going to ask?” Barbara pulled her feet off the coffee table and sat up.

“Forty dollars each, or…”

“Forty dollars total.”

“Well, that ain’t so bad then.”

“Ain’t so bad? Shit, Jim, what is wrong with you. Since when do you need to justify going to an ACDC concert?”

“We’ve gotta be careful. We have no money in the bank, Barb.”

“You just cashed your check.”

“That has to last for two weeks!”

“Just get a loan, or a credit card.”

“No way! No debt! The last thing I need is debt on my back.”

“On our back, Jim. This is about us, not you.”

Jim stood up and put his drink on the table. He walked to the dartboard across the room. He pulled out the three darts, and walked back to the throwing line. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this.”

“You always say that Jim. So tell me, what are you worried about finances for?”
Jim threw a dart. “You know the lease is up next month.”

“You think we should move?” Barbara asked.

“I don’t know. It’s something to think about.” Jim continued to throw darts, retrieve them, and then throw them again.

“Where would we move? To another two-bedroom in another part of Portland? Jim, this is the best home we’ve had.”

“We’ve only had three homes.” Jim threw another dart.

“We are happy here. Aren’t you? Do you like it here?” Barbara walked over to Jim.

He threw a dart and missed the board. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Jim, do you like it, or do you not like it?”

“I don’t know. I do not know. All right? I just don’t know. Live with that answer for now, okay.” Barbara walked into the kitchen. Jim kneeled down and started looking through the shoes. He walked to the couch, retrieved the flashlight that had almost made it into the cushions, and returned to the shoes. Jim finally found his boots and put them on. “I’ll be back!”

“Where are you going?” Barbara called from the kitchen.

“Just out.” Jim opened the front door.

“Tell me where you’re going, Jim.” Barbara was standing in the dining room. She was crying, it was in her voice.

“Crossroads.” Jim said and closed the door.

* * * * *

The Crossroads was ten blocks away. It served hard liquor, allowed smoking, and had three televisions throughout the bar. It also had electricity.
It was a busy night for the Crossroads. The Blazers were playing on the three televisions placed throughout the bar, and many people had turned up to watch them. However, none of them came to play pool. So Jim was able to stake out a brown weathered pool table and watch the game while he practiced hitting balls in pockets. It was an off night for him; nothing was going down.

A man walked up to Jim and announced himself as “Doug McNeff, carpet salesman” and gave Jim a strong handshake. “Would you mind playin’? It’s been a long time since I played a good game of pool.”

“No, actually I was going to go sit and watch the game. Here.” Jim gave Doug McNeff the cue stick.

“Ah, come on. Just one game, I’ll pay.” Before Jim could say a word Doug McNeff was putting quarters in the machine. “What’s your name again?”

“Jim Gister, I’ll be right back.” Jim went to the bar and ordered himself two Long Islands. He watched the game while he waited. Payton was on the line. The crowd screamed and waived sticks. He made the shot and the crowd quieted.
Doug McNeff was putting some music in the jukebox when Jim returned. Jim sucked up some of his Long Island, and then racked.

While he was lining up the triangle rack, he heard the music start: Credence Clear Water Revival, Susie Q.

Jim looked up and Doug walked toward him with a big smile. “All right! Ready to play. I’ll tell you, it has been a long time since I have played any pool.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jim said, “Go ahead, start it out.”

Doug was about fifty-five years old, skinny, and about five foot seven. He looked to be a competent person. Even though he had too tight of a grip with his right hand, and an uneven crevice in his left hand to aim at the cue ball, he shot with complete confidence. The cue ball hit to the side of the triangle and a majority of the balls didn’t move at all. “I don’t mean to brag at all, but I have always considered myself a good judge of character.” Jim took a more serious crack at the triangle and the balls scattered. Doug started considering his shot as he talked. “Personalities and all that. Well, it seems to me that you have a lot on your mind.” Doug chalked up his cue stick, “You either have job troubles or girl troubles. Or boy troubles, it is that day and age isn’t it.” Doug laughed and hit the cue ball off the three ball and into the side pocket. “Dang it.”

“Don’t we all have some kind of trouble?” Jim picked out the white ball and started considering his next shot.

“Yes, that is true.” Doug waited while Jim hit a solid into the corner pocket. “And it is also true that people could always use advice. My mother, God bless her, would be the first to say that I give great advice.”

Jim hit another solid in another corner pocket. “Sometimes people want to be left alone.”

“Hey, yes, you are right.” Doug said, “but if you need advice, let me know.” Jim hit a solid off a stripe and into a corner pocket. “Hey, I thought you said it has been a long time since you played!”

Jim smiled, “Lucky, I guess.”

“Are you?” Doug considered. Jim missed the next shot. “Do you have kids?” Doug asked as he lined up his shot.

“No.”

“You should have some, they make life a lot more cheerful.” His shot wasn’t even close, “Not that I have any, but I have nephews and nieces.”

“No, I definitely don’t need that.” Jim took a large drink of his long island.

“Yeah, what do you need?” Doug asked as he started chalking up his cue stick.

“Peace. Quiet.” Jim started hitting balls into pockets, “Freedom. Health.”

“Are you sick?”

“No. Your turn.” Jim took another large drink.

“Girl problems. That is what you have.” Doug smiled at Jim.

“Look, I don’t need advice, alright? Why don’t you finish this game by yourself.” A few people turned their heads to see who had raised their voice. Jim finished his first Long Island, grabbed his second, and walked to an empty table.
As Jim nursed his drink he watched the Lakers take a sizable lead over the Blazers.

“Hey, no hard feelings, right?” Doug said as he sat down at Jim’s table, “Is that the Blazers? And what is that team? The Jazz?”

Jim sat back, “The Lakers.”

“Ball players. Imagine being a ball player, that would be something.”

“Probably a good time.”

“What?” Doug asked.

“They probably have a good time,” Jim said, “Always traveling, seeing new cities. Plenty of money, women.”

“Yeah,” Doug nodded and stared at the game, “Probably lonely too.”

Jim took a drink, “Probably.”

“I had a cousin once who was a stage actor. He traveled from city to city like ball players do. Said it was the loneliest time of his life.”

“Really?” Jim lit a cigarette and sat back, “I think it would be a great life.”

“You know, I used to travel around.” A cocktail waitress brought Doug a soda. “Thank you.” He took a drink. “But when I traveled, I didn’t have any money. I was a salesman.”

“What kind of salesman?” Jim asked as he watched the television. A commercial was on.

“A carpet cleaner salesman! Can you believe that?” Doug laughed, “And now I sell carpets! I guess I have a knack. Everyone does, you know?”

“What?”

“Everyone has a knack. Looking at you…” Doug gave Jim a good long stare. Jim took a puff of his cigarette. “I bet you are a good leader! You have that strong, confident personality. I would stake my life on that. What do you do for a living? Are you a manager, or…”

“I work for UPS. I unload boxes.” Jim tapped his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Keep at it though, you will be a supervisor in no time.”

Jim smiled and took a drink. The game was on again, the Blazers passed the ball in and missed an open shot.

“Yep, the road is lonely.” Doug seemed to be talking to himself. Jim didn’t look at him; he just watched the game. “And it leaves you lonely. Time is against you on the road.”

“Shit, what time is it,” Jim asked.

Doug looked at his watch, “Five after ten.”

“I gotta go. I will see you later.”

Jim finished his drink. By the time he was done, Doug was handing him a card, “Here, in case you ever need anything.”

“Like carpet?”

“Sure!” Doug laughed.

Jim walked into the men’s room. It was empty. He turned on a sink and splashed some water on his face. Then he looked into the mirror. Water dripped down his face, moving this way and that across his face and falling into the sink. Finally, after a good minute or so, he wiped his face off with the dispensing towel and headed out.

When he opened the front door to the Crossroads, he found Barbara waiting outside leaning up against her passenger door.

He walked up to her. She just looked at him. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello. Need a ride?” She asked.

Jim looked at his Trans Am. Then he looked at her Sedan. Barbara stood with her arms crossed. “Sure,” he walked up to her passenger door. She was in the way.

They both stood there, feet away from each other. Jim looked at the ground. The moon created shadows that stretched off toward the Crossroads. Noise could be heard from inside the bar: laughter, talking, and clinking.

Jim coughed. Then he said, “Look, I… am not the best man in the world. I used to think that I was. But, you know, I screwed off a lot.” He kicked a rock that was in the dirt. “And I still have that in me, the desire to keep going. Keep moving.”

“Wanderlust.” Barbara said. Her voice cracked.

Jim looked up to her, “Yah, wanderlust.” Then he stopped and was silent. He looked down, found another rock, and kicked it. The he stood, looking at the ground, his hands in his pockets.

Barbara asked, “Are you going to leave me, Jim?”

Jim said nothing. A diesel drove by making it impossible to hear anything. Jim turned and watched it go. When the diesel was gone, it seemed to take all the sound with it. Jim stared after it.

“Listen,” Barbara’s voice was weak and about to break “let’s just go.”

“No.” Jim said as he turned to her.

“What the hell, Jim! You just wanna stand here!”

“No, not that. No, I’m not going to leave you.” He walked up to her. “I can’t leave you.” He hugged her and she collapsed into his arms.

The sound was returning…

Barbara pulled away from Jim and looked at him. “And we can stay at our home?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, “But we will take trips. Long ones.”

“OK.” They were both smiling. She pulled away and walked to the other side of the car. “And we are going to ACDC?”

“Yes.” He opened the door.

“Do I have to return the outfit that I bought for the concert?”

“Jesus.”