Tom brushed aside a few grains of salt. Something greasy stuck to his fingers. Why did she like it here? He leaned over and rubbed his hands together over the aisle. “Doesn’t he phone you?”
“Once a week.”
“Not very often, is it?”
“It’s long distance and he doesn’t make much money yet. But when he finishes . . .” She talked on and on about how Charlie would get a pay raise after basic training, and another one after graduating from some electronics course.
He should have never asked about Charlie. At the first chance she gave him, he interrupted. “So what’s happening with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why aren’t you coming to the swimming hole?”
She squinted at him as though she was trying to read his mind. Before he could say anything else, Monique showed up and placed a Coke bottle and a glass half-full of ice cubes on the table. When she turned to him, the corner of her mouth rose up in a smirk. “That’ll be fifty cents,” she said.
He despised her, but since he aimed to impress Ally, he fished a dollar bill from his pocket and held it up. “Keep the change.”
Monique grabbed the bill from him and shoved it into the front pocket of her apron. She left without thanking him. He had to fight with himself not to gawk at her backside as she traipsed away. When she sat at her stool, he turned his full attention to Ally. Supposing he asked her out, and supposing she agreed, he’d have to say where he intended to take her. There was nothing to do in this crazy town and he could not think of anywhere she’d like to go. He had not planned this very well, and now he felt awkward, and hated it. He poured Coke into his glass until the fizz threatened to spill over the rim, then he tilted the half-empty coke bottle over her glass. “Want some?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I have to go home. We’re going to visit my aunt in Phillipsburg this weekend. I should be helping my—” She stopped short. The next word she had wanted to say started with a “d”. She pinched her forearm and looked out the window, “help my mom pack our bags.”
He could tell she had lied. Everybody in town knew that her mom was a closet drunk and her father did most of the housework. Tom waited for the fizz in his glass to come down. He knew what it felt like not to have a mother’s attention. Not that his mom was a drinker. No, far from it, but she might as well be, considering how busy she was with the endless fund raisers for the Salvation Army, drives for the food bank, and the countless hours spent at church. If Tom ever married, he would not put up with a wife who was always gone, or drunk.
The light brown fizz disappeared into the dark, rising layer of coke. He had better forget about home and start thinking about where he could take her. There might be nothing worth doing in Dawson, but he had a car and plenty of gas money. He cleared his throat. “Too bad you’re busy. The Godfather is still playing in Orleans.” Her tiny eyebrows lifted up. He was on to something. “You want to see it?”
She sat back in her seat. “No, thanks.”
“Is it because you’re going to Phillipsburg?”
“No. I don’t have to go to Phillipsburg if I don’t want to.”
“Then why don’t you come.”
She took a glimpse at the counter. “You know how people talk.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t want anybody to think I’m not with Charlie anymore?”
Damn Charlie. How could Tom compete against someone who was not even there. He had hoped that she would grow bored with writing and reading letters, but obviously, she was still in love, and as far as he was concerned, in love with a loser. Charlie Gunter would never amount to anything. He would spend the next twenty-five years toiling on far away Air Force bases, or going on missions in some God-forsaken country. What kind of a life would that be for her? Tom felt he was doing her favour by trying to wrest her away from Charlie. Couldn’t she see that of the two, he was the better prospect? His dad owned the Dawson Aluminium Casting plant and had already guaranteed Tom a manager’s job after college. With the Walker fortune behind him, he would have a long and rewarding career, not to mention more money than Charlie would ever hope to make in the Air Force. He wanted to scream at her, but instead, he looked down at her purse. She’d never come on a date with him as long as she kept receiving Charlie’s letters. He had to do something about those, but what? Nothing came to his mind. Why was it so hard to concentrate when she was close to him? He took a swig of coke and said, “At least, let me give you a ride home.”
“No. I’ll walk.” She slid off her bench and stood in the aisle. “Thanks anyway, Tommy.” She started for the exit door.
All of a sudden, he knew what to do about the letters. He jumped out of the booth and caught her arm. The feel of her soft skin sent a rush of desire to his loin. “Ally?”
She turned. “Yes?”
He wished she would grab him and pull him to her, as she did with Charlie. But she didn’t. Patience, he thought. Patience. He released her arm. “Can I have Charlie’s address?”
“You? Write?”
“What? Don’t you think I can?”
She pulled the letter from her purse. “You just don’t seem the type.” She tore the flap from the envelope and gave it to him. The address was on it. “Here,” she said. “Charlie will be surprised.”
Tom thought about that for a second, then he gazed into her eyes. “Oh yes,” he said. “He’ll be surprised as heck.”
***
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