Forty Six

Last night had been a wonderful one with Becca.  Our regular tensions did not have a chance to surface.  After my bath, affection, longing, attraction, and lust comingled until we fell asleep in each other’s arms. This morning, we engaged once again. Our activity generated a sweet vestigial soreness for us both.  Becca got up and ran a bath for herself. I lay on the bed thinking of the night, and then, unavoidably, the unfinished business of the journey surfaced to my consciousness.   

With towels around her body and hair, Becca returned to the bedroom and told me that she had made coffee. She had to be at work at noon and wanted to hear more about the trip before she left for the day.  I slunk out of bed and put on a pair of her sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt that I found folded neatly in a drawer.  I retrieved the map and log from the backpack.  

The backpack reminded me. As I came out of the bedroom I asked, “Did I tell you what happened when I contacted Steve’s cousin in Los Angeles?”

“Start from the beginning Z.”

And I do.  I spread out the map across what passes for her dining room table.  I open the log to the first page. And I go through the details of the trip, every stop; including the parts that I’d left out from the digested version I’d relayed the night before. We sat on the same side of the table, so Becca could follow the map stops along with me.  She’d taken out a lined pad and was making notes. She asked questions now and then and laughed when I described some of the incidents. There was no laughing when I relayed my encounters with Tim and Mike.  There were occasional gasps and mutterings: “You’re kidding” and “oh my God” and “you were crazy”.

“Did you write the letter?” she asked.

I tell her I did not.

She nodded. “Probably doesn’t matter.” But she said that to make me feel ok about it.

It was close to eleven when I completed the travelogue. Becca stood up from the table and kissed me on the top of the head.  She folded the notes she’d taken and placed the papers in an envelope that she’d taken out ahead of time. 

“I’ve got to get dressed for work.” She said.

She went into the bedroom and came out fifteen minutes later looking like the professional she soon would become. We hugged at the top of the stairs.

***

When Becca leaves, I try to read today’s newspaper, but I cannot.  There are too many interfering thoughts surfacing.  Blissful recollections of the night before alternate with a lingering sense that I need to do something. 

I open my wallet and take out the photo of Jenny that I removed from the bulletin board at UCLA.  I stare at the picture for a few seconds, then turn the photo over.  After a few minutes, I dial the number that is written on the back.

When the call is answered, I hear a woman’s voice--a woman’s angry and exasperated voice.

“Shel, do not call here again.” The phone is slammed down.

My head moves back involuntarily. What the hell was that?

I dial again.

“Goddamn it Shel…”

I interrupt. “This is not Shel. Don’t hang up.’

“Shel, I am tired of this bullshit.”

“This is not Shel.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m looking for Jennifer.  Am I speaking to Jennifer?”

“No. You are not speaking to Jennifer.

“May I speak with her?” I ask.

There’s a pause, then a guarded question: “How did you get this number?”

“Look, I know this will seem strange, but I met Jenny once in Elko. Then I saw a picture of her posted on a bulletin board at UCLA.  On the back of the photo was this number.’

“Shel. Don’t fuck with me.”

“Not Shel. Not Shel.”

“Okay, who is this?”

I hesitate. “Kozak” I say.

“Kozak?”

“Kozak. It’s a nickname. Look, is she there?”

“Jenny’s not here.”

“Can you get a message to her from me.”

A pause.  Then another guarded question: “What’s the message?”

“Tell her I am the guy she met at Barbara’s house, her next door neighbor in Elko.  Tell her I was hitch-hiking, and she met me there when she came over to Barbara’s house.”

“Okay.” She said slowly. “Is that the message?”

“No. The message is that I think she might be in trouble. Could be in trouble.”

There’s a sigh.  “Hey Kozak, or whoever you are. She’s not going back to Elko.”

“I’m not going to ask her to go back. It’s not that. Look, it all might be nothing. It probably is nothing, but I think she could be, might be, in danger. Can you please ask her to call me?  She can call collect.” I give her Becca’s number.   

Whoever I am speaking with continues cautiously, “I’m not sure when I will hear from Jenny again.”

“Whenever you do…” I begin

She interrupts me, “I’ll give her your message when/if I hear from her, but there is no guarantee she will want to call you.”

“Look, please tell her it is important or could be important. And that I’m the hitchhiker she met at her next-door neighbor’s house. And I don’t want to return her  to Nevada. I’m now back home in New York. Western New York. Especially, if her travels take her anywhere near Western New York, please ask her to call me.”

“Okay. If she calls, I’ll tell her.”

“Thank you.  Who am I speaking to?”

Another pause. “You’re speaking to the Wicked Witch of the West. Look Kozak nickname or whoever you are, if she calls, I’ll give her your message.”

I don’t hear from Jenny that day June 21st. When Becca comes home, I tell her about the phone call and what I will do if she calls.  I get a pat on the head. A good boy pat. 

I don’t hear from Jenny on the 22nd.   “I gave it a shot” I say to Becca that night.

“You did.  You did.”

On the evening of Sunday June 23rd we're watching a show on the tube when the phone rings.  Becca goes to the kitchen, picks up the wall phone, and answers.  

“A collect call from Jenny” she repeats loudly for my benefit.  

I hop up from the couch and grab the phone.

“We’ll accept the charges.” I tell the operator. I signal to Becca with my thumb up. She gives me a thumbs up back.  I pull the extension cord as far as I can. It lets me go into the bathroom. I sit on top of the toilet bowl lid.

“Jenny” I say.

“Is this, Kozak?”

“Yes. Listen Jenny. Thanks for calling. I’m the guy you met at Barbara’s in Elko.”

“That’s what my cousin said. I’m not going back to Elko.”

“I don’t want that.  Look. I am in Buffalo now.  But I want to talk with you.  I need to talk with you. I met someone while hiking who I think could be dangerous.”

She repeats what I said in a monotone. “You met someone hiking that you think could be dangerous.”

“It’s unlikely but possible.”

“Look, Kozak or whoever you are. I am fine.  Don’t worry about me. How, I mean how, is someone you met dangerous to me?”

“Can I meet with you?’

“Now you sound dangerous.”

“I’m not. Look, can I meet with you.”

“This sounds pretty weird to me. Who are you again?”

“Last month, I was in your neighbor’s living room. You came in with the mail that had been delivered to your home by mistake.”

“Right.” She snorts a laugh. “The mail. Yes, I remember that day.  I remember people being there.”

“Where are you?” 

“At a Holiday Inn.”. 

“There are more than one of them.”

 “No kidding. My cousin said to call if I got anywhere near western New York. I’m staying at a Holiday Inn tonight about thirty miles from Jamestown. Tomorrow I am heading to Jamestown.”

“Wait a minute. Hold on.” I come out of the bathroom and find a state map for New York. It’s easy to find.  Becca has placed state maps neatly in a folder that’s filed in a bookcase. They’re labeled, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio… “I’m back. Ok. Where is this Holiday Inn?”

“It’s near where routes 60 and 20 meet, north of Jamestown.”

It takes me a moment, but I find the intersection.  “That’s about an hour from where I am. Give or take. How about I meet you at the Holiday Inn early tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not meeting you at a hotel Kozak.”

“Fair enough.  Is there a restaurant or some place to meet nearby?”

“There’s a pancake house. It’s got more than pancakes but it is called a pancake house. I ate there tonight. Don’t remember the exact name, but it is on 60 near the intersection. Hey, do you think this is really necessary?”

“Yes. I mean it might be.”

“Okay. Get to the pancake house by 730 tomorrow morning.”

“I can do that.”

“Be there by 7:30 or I am leaving. I want to start hiking by 9 at the latest.”

“I’ll see you there.”

“Wear a sign that says Kozak or something.”

“I’ll be there at 730.”

“Okay. See you.” Says Jenny and then she hangs up.

***

“How did it go?” Said Becca.

“I’m meeting her tomorrow about an hour from here. Meeting her at 730”

“Let’s move cars now then.”  

I’d sublet my apartment for the summer. For the entire time I was away my car was parked at the top of a one lane long driveway by the side of Becca’s unit.  Becca’s car is in the same driveway parked behind mine. We need to reverse the order of our cars.  I’d be leaving well before she would the next morning.

We go down the stairs and outside to the driveway. When we finish the maneuver, we meet at the front door before walking back up.  Becca hands me something.

“I had this in my car.  Forgot to bring it up. Give it to Jenny tomorrow.”

“What is it?”

“It’s for good luck.  I saw the charm at K-Mart the other day and thought of Jenny. It’s cheap, but still…Give it to Jenny when you see her.”