A Lunch-Time
Conversation-With Prescott Breslin, Junior In Mind
From The Pen
Of Sam Lowell
Ben Webster,
despite his creeping arthritis which has slowed him down a bit over the past
several years and which had bothered him no end, not because he could not
accept the aging process although he had tossed and turned more one night when
in his forties he started to feel the first surges of kickback in his body and
not because he had some notion of defying the death that await us all for he
held no deep-seeded secular need to put a fine gloss on such thoughts, had
other things on his mind just then. Things to try to reclaim the past a little,
try to get some information about past events if for no other reason than to
now that he had the time to do to reflect on what had happened along the way.
If he could half-figure that out before he passed beyond all understanding he
would greet death, the death that he had always, echoing the laconic
poet-minister John Donne, claimed should not be proud. Should not have pride of
place in the great scheme of things. Ben had always liked the way the Letts
took on the matter letting the reindeer king decide the time and place of the
passage, to make the sleep the equivalent of sweet amorphous death. But truth to tell that affliction had make
him feel older than he needed to feel, made him something of a cranky old man
to his grandchildren at times, made his grumpy since otherwise after a lifetime
of trying to keep himself reasonably in shape he could hold his own with his
peers, maybe holding better than his own.
That pain had slowed him down even worse a while back when his left knee bones,
verified for a candid world to see by progressively gathered doctor x-rays
which had started rubbing together about fifteen years ago and he eventually
needed to get the badge of the AARP-worthy knee replacement. Done, done and
finished but as payment the aches gathered in other locales to take te wind out
of his sails.
Notwithstanding
his own maladies Ben just then, waving off the thoughts of afflictions, of
mother death was, as had become habit of late, of the past couple of years, committed
to once again make the call, the call to his old friend Jason. Over the past
several years, maybe closer to decade now, Ben made the monthly call, made it
less frequently these days with his teeth grinding, over his cellphone to one Jason
Darling to plan for their regular monthly luncheon which recently has been to
some place in Walton, the town where they had both grown up, had met in
elementary school, had hung around as sweet back corner boys.
That
grinding his teeth fiercely had begun a decade or so back and had extended back
maybe another decade before that was no turn of phrase but a real reaction
every time he had to contact his old friend. As a result for years, the best
years when it might have helped Jason, he had made it a practice to avoid
seeing Jason except when he could not avoid the issue, could not truthfully
back out or plead ignorance. Like the time twelve or thirteen years before when
Jason had had his stroke, had had to have some work done on his flukey poorly
treated heart as well after a lifetime of sucking sodas and eating hellish Sally/U/U/Methodist/Roman
Catholic/Baptist soup kitchen rotation foods as well. Jason had for years after
his divorce from Lydia, Lydia who was from some Podunk town in Tennessee, some
place out in the sticks whom he had met one night when she was working as a bar
maid in some low-rent gin mill and had spun some tale that got him a three day
shack-up and they had gotten married shortly after she thinking he would take
care of her since he had shown her a bank roll as she blew him and she would no
longer have to do an occasional professional trick or seven to keep body and
soul together, who ran out on him with another guy, ran out as fast as she
could when that guy after she had given him his blow job said they should pull
up stakes and head west and get away from the bummer in Boston, lived in a skid
row rooming house.
This is how
the path of descent played out if anybody is interested. Jason had about a year
before Lydia took that powder, took off with their last five dollars so maybe
that new guy was showing a Missouri bankroll too, had stopped working, stopped
trying to keep them together when he got into one of his periodic funks about
how he had come up the hard way and the world really did owe the guy a living,
and sat in their small messy apartment and watched television or read country
music fan magazines to which he was addicted to forcing her to go out onto the
streets again to keep body and soul and that is where she had met that John somebody
who took her west, or wherever five bucks could take them maybe.
At some
point later Jason had gotten himself on the dole, he had always been good at
the con, had taught Ben a couple of tricks that he was able to use when he
himself had had a short period of being out on the streets after he got out of
the service when he couldn’t adjust to the “real” after Vietnam times, lived on
welfare or social security disability, or both, it was always some combination
at various times since Jason had been diagnosed as clinically depressed as a
result of some ancient wounds, maybe childhood, more probably from his own
checkered military service in Korea and Vietnam. He had been since Lydia fled living
alone in that run down rooming house in skid row Boston like some moronic pack
rat going out late at night on the day before trash day and grabbing whatever
he could to “decorate” his room but like the messy Lydia-managed apartment all
it was pack rat messy and he hated to
even go near the place and so they would meet in the street in front of Jason’s
quarters, had had some kind of stroke
and had lain almost naked for three days on the floor of his room since he
could not move before somebody had heard his cries. Since Ben was the only
known contact he had been called to visit Jason in a rehab center after he had
been released from the hospital. Another time earlier Ben had been in downtown
Boston on some business and Jason had called out to him from across the street
and he was stuck having to relate to him that day. Both times and a few more
that he had half-forgotten about had been of a kind. They would meet under some
flag of friendship truce, Jason would do some godawful thing, borrow money and
not pay it back, steal checks from Ben’s house when he was invited over like
Ben was some mother’ pocketbook to be hit mercilessly like when they were kids and
forged his name, and other assorted tricks which left their relationship shaggy
and on a razor’s edge most of the time after high school. Hence the long
stretches of statutory neglect as Ben called the situation (and at least two of
Ben’s three wives and a couple of live-in girlfriends threatened to leave if
Jason came through their doors. See they would be “missing” dough after he
left.
It had not
always been that way, had not always been about Ben having to be niggardly
about connecting with his old friend. Back in high school, back in the 1960s
when they used to run together, run around town as buddies and literally run
around on the track team despite their mutual lack of resources, despite their
respective horrible home lives, they were tight, had each other’s backs and
could depend on each other. Ben’s father long gone and his mother mentally ill,
Jason’s father a drunk and mother running around with every guy in town, called
the town pump by a couple of guys in school who had not known who she was tried
to pick her up in a bar which they were in illegally but who was counting and
she had on some come hither dress and it was only their fear of dealing with an
older woman that had stopped the from having whatever they wanted from her. After
high school though as Ben moved toward a professional career and Jason drifted
into some trouble, small robberies, a jack-roll, stuff like that which got him
before a judge who gave him the “choice”-three to five in county or enlist in
the Army their relationship fell apart although never to the point where they
totally broke off relations, or really Ben broke off his relationship with his
longtime friend whom he had known since elementary school. So they had gone
through a series of ups and downs for decades, mostly down until one day Ben realizing
that they were on the short end of their lives and that the time for grinding
his teeth had passed. Hence, through fits and starts, they had arrived at a
place where they could meet once a month and rekindle their once virtuous
relationship.
At those
lunched old time memories were guaranteed to be a serious part of whatever
conversations they might have ever since Ben had decided several years ago to
try and reconcile with his old town and with the guys whom he hung around with,
his corner boys he called them and they were as much corner boys as any 1950s
wacko sociologist could gather in their brains even if they did not exactly fit
the wild boy Saturday “chicken run” guys
with grease and oil in their fingertips and nails for the simple reason they
had no cars to work on, no money for parts if they had cars and, well you get
the drift, and that list had started with Jason who he was not particularly
close at the time had the virtue of never having left the area unlike Frankie
Riley in big town New York, Jack Callahan up in New Hampshire and the rest in parts
unknown, maybe a couple in jail like Red Radley, a genuine monster. So the call
was made, the arrangements put in place and Ben would pick up Jason the next
day for that lunch again in Walton by common agreement.
The reason
that Ben was picking Jason up was that the past serval years had been unkind to
Jason what with the stroke that he had suffered and the stint they had placed
in his heart he had no capacity to pick Ben up. Moreover he had, in a cruel
play on their corner boy days had no car, had no money for the upkeep of a car
and, well you get the drift. Ben
arrived at the lobby Jason’s assisted living Senior Citizen Housing building,
don’t forget Jason too was reaching four score and ten, at about noon once
again prepared to help his friend into his automobile for the ten mile trip to
Jimmy Jakes’ Diner a place that still had decent food and still played the old
time country music that Jason was still fond of, no, which Jason was
monomaniacal about, maybe pathologically so although Ben was a lawyer not a
psychologist or mental health worker.
Ben could
not could not abide country music, another subject which had and still did set
his teeth grinding, had always chided Jason about it as a kid, and in high
school too since what the hell did known about country ways, being a mill town
boy just like Ben who could at least claim a father who was from Kentucky might
have run back there for all anybody knew since when he ran out his mother was
not keen on finding out his whereabouts, had said later good riddance before
she started get those migraine headaches which broke her mental capacities. But
remember all that teeth grinding stuff was kept in the background as he tried
to keep up a good front about lots of matters which had caused Ben to forsake
his hometown and forsake Jason as well once they had had their final falling
out about thirty years before.
As Jason
came down to the lobby from the elevator along with a nurse’s assistant Ben
noticed that his old friend was stooped over more than the last time he had
seen him and thought to himself that the ravishes of arthritis which has
sidelined him were increasing taking over and in Jason’s case as well and that
this day helping Jason would be more arduous than previously.
Before Ben
could greet his old friend though Jason shouted out “What did you do come here
to pick up the furniture?” Ben, startled, a not unusual occurrence when dealing
with Jason even back in his best days in his youth, thought that not only had
the arthritis taken its toll but living by himself all these years since his
divorce about thirty years before had begun to weaken his brain but as he
responded in a perplexed voice he only said “What are you talking about, old
man?” Jason replied, pointing to a ratty heavily dented and scarred café table
and a couple of equally ratty chairs which looked like they would fall apart at
the touch that were obviously ready for the furnace and which probably belonged
to somebody in the place who had “cashed his (or her) check” and the
administration was mercifully getting rid of them and said, “That nice table
and chairs which I wish I could have in my room but they only allow so much
furniture so the residents don’t wind up tripping over themselves and fall.”
Ben thought
that moment that once again he would be in for an afternoon of statements from
Jason which had no particular connection to each other but that fate too he
kept to himself. As the nurse’s aide help put on Jason’s coat against the
November weathers Ben noticed that the outfit that Jason had decided to wear
had come down a couple of steps from the previous month, baggy dragging stained
jogging togs, a big flapping oversized flannel shirt that was in need of
washing (too large even for a guy who was five feet seven inches and weighted
about two hundred and thirty five pound so it must have been XXXL to start
with), a nondescript shapeless jacket which might have come from the Sallys
(Salvation Army) although about a year before he had bought the jacket for
Jason for Christmas. He also noticed that Jason’s thinning balding white hair
was in need of a minimum haircut and that he could use a shave of the stubble
that was gathering on his face even if he had been shaved that morning since
Ben remembered that dark-haired, black, Jason was a two times a day shave
especially when he was going out on a date, a date which unlike Ben probably
came to him easily since he had been a good-looking in the Elvis mode. Yeah
between his clothes and his appearance almost seventy years of living a number
that Ben himself would be facing as well soon had taken their toll on his old
corner boy who in those long gone days in the throes of youth would have had
had snarly comments for any such old man who came around Harry’s Variety to buy
a newspaper or a package of cigarettes.
Not that Ben
was himself some paragon of Esquire or some upscale men’ magazine but he had
continued to make efforts to keep the weight off by running frequently (jogging is really closer to what he was
doing especially that first mile which was hell unlike the old days when he/they
actually did run and had had a sort of successful time doing so and after a few
quick warm-up exercises was ready to run quickly), keeping his now very grey
and thinning hair and beard professionally trimmed (not as frequently as his
long-time companion, Laura, Laura Perkins, would like claiming that when they
kissed it scratched her face), and except for a knee replacement (and
eyeglasses for reading, a hearing aid and full set of dentures) was physically
in not bad shape for a man nearing seventy. That last thought as they exited
the building after Jason had painstakingly signed himself out for the afternoon
would be tested from the first time they walked to Ben’s car and unlike on
previous occasions Jason had to be helped into the car (Ben always had to help
with the seat belts so he was not concerned about that when he was asked to
help with that task).
Both in the
car and buckled up something they had laughed at as kids when the new seat belt
law came into effect they headed to the diner when Jason turned to Ben and said
“Did you hear that Elaine Ryder had died?” Ben replied that he did not who the
woman was, was she from school, from the town or something. Jason said in an
astonished tone, “No, she was the stuntwoman for Dale Evans on the Roy Rodger and Dale Evans Show you
remember that show back in the fifties.” Ben answered yes but he made that
reply in an even tone since it had been a long time now since he had been
surprised when Jason mentioned some name from the distant past and it turned
out to be not some mutual acquaintance, some fellow “townie” but some figure
from out of fifties television night that Jason was addicted to, more so lately
since via the marvels of modern Internet technology he could revisit those long
lost times and their denizens. Still a reference to an obscure stuntwoman from
a long gone television show did not bode well for the afternoon’s
conversations. Lots of teeth grinding (okay dentures grinding) and silently
raised eyebrows.
Along Route
3, the route from the assisted living facility to Jimmy Jakes’ Jason talked a
mile a minute about this and that but mainly about some old time landmarks
since usually the only times he got out to see the old town these days was when
Ben came to take him out somewhere. Ben usually drove mute until they arrived
at their destination unless Jason forced an answer out of him. As they passed a
heavily weeded chain link fence empty lot Jason shouted over the sound of the
radio and the traffic noise, “Remember Billy Badger who used to work at Howdy’s
Beef Burger when that place was on that weeded lot over there back when we were
in high school in the early 1960s.” A quick no came from Ben. “Sure you do
remember he used to give us whatever leftovers for free he had when he closed
up at night and we stopped by when we had either been drinking all night and
were hungry beasts or when we struck out with some hot date who turned out to be
directly related to the Blessed Virgin Mary.” Ben laughed at that last
reference since he had had plenty of red-headed, his favor color hair for girls
then, Irish Catholic girls with great shapes but who keep the bible between
their knees and rosary bead and novena books as extra protection to ward off
the slightest attempt to go beyond some half-ass French kissing but he had to
admit he did not remember Billy although he did remember that they got plenty
of free burgers, fries and frappes at Howdy’s. Jason wouldn’t let the subject
go, “Sure you do, remember he lived over on Walnut Street by the marshes, over
on what did we call it when we lived over there ourselves?” Ben interrupted
with a far-away and long gone blush every time he thought about the words even
now “on the wrong side of the tracks.” Jason continued, “ you remember then he
was friends with Max McGee the star football player of our class and had a sister, Donna, a couple of years
older, who gave guys blow jobs, great blow jobs and liked to swallow the cum,
said she had heard it was a good protein source, unlike most girls on a date
from what Max said. Said she would give guys “head” so she could stay a virgin,
you know that old Catholic girl thing when they wouldn’t go all the way but
still wanted guys to take them out for a good time and not stay at home by the
midnight phone reading the Bible or something once they got the reputation for
not putting out.” Ben laughed again and thought maybe Jason wasn’t failing
quite as badly as he thought but still said no to knowing who Billy Badger was
and would have certainly been interested in that sister Donna if he had known
Billy, probably would have been practically living at his house on the off
chance he was hungry for some protein, or wanted to stay a virgin, and Jason
finally let it go.
As they
passed the high school Ben mentioned to Jason that he was glad that he had not
gone to their 50th high school class reunion even when he had gotten
in contact with Dora Kiley, who was the chairperson of the reunion committee as
she had been ever since the fifth reunion, and told her he was interested in
helping out since this would probably be the last chance to see the old gang
that most members of the class would have and in line with his newfound
feelings about the town since his mother had died a few years before he wanted
to take that trip down memory lane. As
usual though things, old time hometown and family things had once again not worked
out since once he got on the class website that Dora and her committee had
established he got in contact with an old flame, Larissa Smart, and in the
process got too close to her and Laura had read him the riot act forcing him to
abandon those plans. Jason remained silent for the few seconds that Ben talked
about the class of 1964 since he always did so when Ben spoke about the class
or members of it like Denny, Hutchy, Danny, Steve or Boris who Jason used to
hang around with for the simple reason that he had never graduated from high
school, had dropped out in the eleventh grade to follow some girl from up in
New Hampshire first and when that did not pan out he drifted for a while out toward the
prairies of Kansas got into trouble out there involving robbing a gas station,
did some time and when he came back felt it was too late to go back to school
and so enlisted in the Army after another robbery of a variety store and the
judge’s choice can a-calling.
Ben could
always tell when he made a faux pas
by mentioning the Class of 1964 because not only would Jason not answer any
remembrance questions like what had happened to Denny (he had passed away
several years before Ben learned from Dora who was something like the class
obituary writer as well as permanent chairperson of every reunion since she had never left town,
had married a dentist who practiced in the town although he had grown up in
Hingham) but would jump quickly to another subject and he did so here. “Did you
remember Marty Callahan?” When Ben answered no Jason as was his habit of late
would say “You don’t, sure you do, the big kid who used to hang around the
miniature golf course and had that ’59 Chevy who later married some money from
up in Boston and grabbed a couple of taxi cabs and made some more money. I ran
into him and he didn’t recognize me as much as I did for him back in the day
getting him jobs, money, liquor and girls.” (That “running into Marty” upon
further discussion turned out to have been thirty years later when he had seen Marty
downtown after Lydia had fled and he was living in a broken down two-bit
rooming house on Tappan Street and was “in his cups” after he had just finished
up a six-month stretch for check-kiting in the county jail, Jesus, what a piece
of work.).
Mercifully
Jimmy Jakes’ came into view and to cut the conversation he asked Jason if he
thought he would need help getting out of the car. He grumpily answered that he
probably would need help, not a good sign, and in the case did so needing not
only help getting out of the car, but Ben had to brace him up the three steps
to the front door and then after being greeted by Helen the hostess and
part-owner grabbed a booth close to the front door. Helen, an old flame, a
heart-breaker, of Ben, Jason, Frankie and a couple of other corner boys who
wouldn’t even come across with that Catholic chastity blow job to keep her
virginity, said even thinking about doing that act then was nasty and would
slap a guy in the face if he asked or tried to ease her face down to his groin
to get her going, but still had guys, Ben, Jason, Frankie and that couple of
other corner boys calling for dates and lying about what she did to them on
those dates until one night in front of their high school hangout Frankie let
the cat out of the bag and admitted she never did him, never did the nasty and
everybody laughed and confessed their own failed tales. She thereafter sat by
the midnight telephone whether reading her Bible or not nobody knew, or cared
about. Whether she subsequently changed her mind, a lot of girls did for
reasons other than chastity later, about doing those blow jobs her nobody knows
since she got married out of high school had four kids and had been divorced a
couple of times before becoming a part-owner after Jimmy Jakes passed away and
his widow sold the place to Helen and her boyfriend. All those sex thoughts
though about Helen now being beyond the pale since she too had not aged
gracefully. )
“You know I
like to use my Jet Blue American Express card whenever I can so I get points
for flights since the points goes for that,” Ben said sitting in seat across the
booth from Jason as they waited for the waitress to come and give them menus. Jason
remarked “American Express, don’t leave home without it. You know Karl Malden
made a fortune in the commercials off of saying that.” Ben tried to explain,
fruitlessly tried to explain why he used American Express again, to no avail as
Jason went on and on about what a lucky stiff Malden was to get that commercial
that everybody would remember and that whoever had thought that long ago slogan
up was pretty clever. Ben suffered through this monologue as he knew from
previous experiences that saying he did not give a rat’s ass about the slogan,
Karl Malden or anything else about American Express would only get him more
jabbering talk (and a headache) so it was better to let it go, much better and
wait for an opening to change the subject.
Suddenly
Jason switched up the subject out of the blue as happened a lot more at these
luncheons and asked Ben whether he had heard that Carly Simon had disclosed who
her famous song from the 1970s You’re So
Vain was about. Ben answered that he had heard about it, had seen something
about it on the Comcast homepage on his computer but did not know who the
person was. “Was it James Taylor, Jack Nicholson somebody like that?” he asked
out loud. “No, it was Warren Beatty,” chortled Jason adding “Old Warren got
around.” “I suppose that is not surprising since he did seem to be a peacock in
those days,” Ben said. Jason then mentioned that when he was married to Lydia in
the 1970s he used to play the song every chance he got on various jukeboxes at
joints Vera and he hung out at. Ben asked whether his ex-wife was vain and that
was why they played it. “No, I was the vain one in those days, that’s what she
said but we just liked the song really” Jason replied. Ben arched his eyebrows
trying to picture the ravaged over-weight balding disheveled old man whom he
just had to help slide into the booth seat across from him as some peacock
worthy of such homage but failed to see it although like most things these days
when the pair got together for an occasional lunch in their old growing up town
he kept those thoughts to himself, let the past bury the past.
Then Ben
asked if Warren Beatty was still alive and Jason said he thought so and added “He
will have to wait until his sister tells him he can die.” Ben looked startled across
the table and asked who Beatty’s sister was and why she had any say in the
matter. “Oh Shirley McClain, the actress, you know she is into all this zodiac
and New Age stuff.” “Oh” said Bart ready to leave the subject since he knew if
he pursued the thing further he would get much more about McClain, about the
New Age, about Beatty even than he had bargained for. Many conversations these
days on both sides wound up like that Ben thought as the waitress came by with
menus and asked if the pair wanted anything to drink. “Club Soda, no ice, no
lemon and a glass of regular water, no ice, ” said Ben who had recently started
drinking the club soda to help his stomach and help digest his food. Of course
Jason as Jason had been doing since they first meet down at Johnny Slacks’
bowling alleys back in the early 1960s when Carver, the very town they were
sitting in that moment was the cranberry capital of the world and the Finn-town
section of town so called after all the Finnish people who worked the bogs ,
the “boggers” controlled the life, the political life of the town before the
big industrial-sized operations took over and left the Finns as desperately
poor as any other ethnic minority whose livelihood had been taken away chirped
up, “Pepsi, ice please.”
The order
taken they perused their respective menus looking for some light meal although Ben knew once he made his own selection that would
also be Jason’s although they had always liked different foods even when they
hung out together but these days, the long days since Jason had a sense of what
constituted proper meals since he had not been a restaurant regular for a long
time before Ben came back on the scene Jason took Ben’s lead. And so it was,
Chicken Marsala. Two orders. Easy for the waitress to remember Jason said snidely.
Jason then looking away after stating his luncheon preference asked Ben if he remembered
Hutchy, “You know Hutchy who caddied with us over at the Old Rochester Country
Club, the guy who got me in good with the caddy-master, Kevin Walsh, and the
pro, Dan Shea, whatever happened to him. Didn’t he graduate with our class.” Ben
gave the obligatory “I don’t know” since he did not want to discuss anything to
do with anything about that class reunion business and although he truly did
not know the fate of Hutchy he did know that he had not graduated with the
Class of 1964 since Jason had asked him that same question several times when
he was interested in class reunions and had looked up Hutchy name William
Hutchison and it had not been among the names in the yearbook.
The food
came, well prepared and savory as was, and is now. the case with Jimmy Jakes’
Dinner which is why fads may come and go but good solid if sometimes stolid
food is why the Jimmy’s Dinner had survived through thick and thin. Then while
eating Jason blurted out, “Remember Rick Phelan who lived over on Kendall Street
who I used to hang with when I worked at Dunkin Donuts nights. He killed a guy,
a big guy too, one night in a brawl and did some serious time for it.” Ben,
getting slightly perturbed, but holding his tongue knowing this was going to be
a tough day in the memory department just nodded and said that Phelan definitely
had been a badass and let it go at that. Several more references to long gone
don’t know where ghost riders from the past came Ben’s way, mainly those whom he
did not know since these guys while they lived in the town were part of Jason’s
subsequent career as a petty criminal and short end felon.
After
agreeing to have no dessert although Jimmy Jakes’ always had great pies a la
mode and Ben grabbing the check, slipping the waitress his credit card and
leaving a cash tip Ben once again although in reverse helped Jason out of the
booth, out the Dinner door and into the car. As they rode the now long road
back to Jason’s Jason suddenly asked Ben if he remembered Gabby Hayes, the old
cowboy actor who played with Tom Mix in the old days. Ben suddenly realized
after saying that he thought he remembered the old actor that Jason was adrift
in the past even more he suspected, apparently nothing past about 1965. After
handing off Jason to the nurse’s aide at the door of the assisted living home though
Ben chirped out, “I’ll call you in a couple of weeks about next month’s dinner.
Remember it will be your turn to pay.”
