Locomotive to the Past, George Schultz [snow like ashes series txt] 📗

run-of-the-mill, Boston Blackie flick—along with an eminently-forgettable “B” movie (a “horse opera”, which really was, to put it charitably, a true, bona fide, “B”)—the couple had, ultimately, made their way to The H&N Hamburger System fast-food joint, two blocks from The Norwest Theater, on Grand River, three blocks east of Southfield.

They’d found themselves seated upon two (of four) high, rounded, stools—at the “alternative counter”, which was nothing but a rather large, Formica-topped, “window sill”. It extended inward—from the immense, street-side, pane of, rather-cloudy, glass. Their chosen venue was located—directly across, from the “real” counter.

Jason had just paid a “devil-may-care” 47-cents—for a hamburger, and a paper cup of Orange Crush, for each of the two of them. (The eatery had stocked no Vernor’s—surely an unforgiveable crime against mankind!) After placing the “bountiful repast” on the “window sill”, he’d seated himself.

The first matter of business, had found Valerie launching into an abject apology—for having gone through Jason, at the “rib joint”! Having gone through him, “like a laxative”!

“Aw, that’s all right,”. he’d mumbled. “I really had it coming!”

“That’s just the point,” she’d responded—a good deal louder, than she’d intended. “You didn’t ‘have it coming’! You… you’re entitled! Entitled . . . to be able to live your own life… the way you want to! Any way you want to! It’s your life! Live it, Jason! Live it… as you jolly well please! Live it… as you damn well please!”

“I suppose you’re right… in a way. But, listen Valerie! You… a lot of what you said, to me… well, it was true! Most of what you said… it was true! Hell, all of what you said… it was all true! Everything was! Still is! But, I’m… listen, I’m working on it!”

“What do you mean . . . working on it? You shouldn’t be just…”

“Well, for one thing, I’ve talked it all over . . . with Susie and Eric. Talked everything over with ’em. They’re the couple I live with, y’know. And I’ve started! Started to try and formulate… a plan! An actual plan! Well, trying to formulate one, anyway! A way… some way… to free myself! Get myself free! Free… from having to lug around a hod-full of stupid bricks! Haul ’em around… forevermore!”

“Jason! That’s great! That’s wonderful!”

“I’m taking your advice! About doing my best… to try and break into radio!”

“I’m thrilled! Jason… I’m absolutely thrilled! And I know . . . I’m positively convinced . . . that you’ll do it! That you’ll make it! If you’ll absolutely do your best! Your absolute best! Oh! I should never have said that! What I just said! Of course you’ll do your best! You will! Of course you will!”

“No… I need you! Need you… to stay on top of me!”

Valerie had, from childhood, possessed a well-hidden-till-then way, of “crinkling” up her nose. A charming condition. One that her date had never seen before. Not until she’d applied the mischievous gesture—and had replied, in a, most-suggestive, tone of voice, “Sounds like fun!”

Her, unsuspecting, not-knowing-what-to-do, date had—immediately—“lit up”! Like a construction site lantern! Had illuminated—bright red!

“Oops,” she laughed. “Something else I shouldn’t have said! Jason! I’ve seen a few people blush! More, I guess, than a few… in my day! But, I’ve never seen anyone . . . anyone, who’d positively glowed! Not like you do! Not like you are! I could probably fry an egg… on your forehead!”

“I hate to be embarrassed,” he’d muttered. “It’s so embarrassing!”

“Jason? I’m guessing that you’ve never had even a semi-close relationship… with a woman! With any woman! At any time! That became pretty clear… last Friday night! But, blushing… as you still are . . . that’s kind of the maraschino cherry, on the whole thing! The coupe d’grace! Topping the whole, entire, sundae!”

“You just surprised me… is all. I’d always believed that girls… all girls, in this day and age… well, I’d always thought, that they wouldn’t…”

“And I probably shouldn’t! Shouldn’t have come out with that! Or… probably . . . with anything close! Goes back to what I was saying… on Friday night. That… sometimes… I get just too ‘bitchy’. Don’t tell me otherwise! I do! And I know it!”

“No! Not really! You’re not! You’re really not!”

He wished—fervently—that his fevered face would, for heaven’s sake, stop “glowing… in the dark”! He could still feel the broiling flesh!

One of Grandpa Piepczyk’s constant “sermons”, one which the old man had repeated—with much emphasis, on so many different occasions—had to do, with how virtually all of the women, of his childhood, were so reserved! So out and out demure!

“You’d have to have known ’em,” the old man had expounded. “Have to have known ’em… almost since childhood… before you’d ever get an off-color line, out of ’em”! Out of just about any of ’em.

Having heard that blanket dissertation so often, Valerie’s “sounds like fun” comment had, blatantly, come out of the, well-known, proverbial “left field”!

“Look, Jason,” she explained. “I virtually drew you a picture . . . on Friday. Told you something… along the lines of, I’d never invited anyone, into my bed! Ever! As in never!”

“Yes! I remember! How could I forget? And you also said… very plainly… you were not fixing to! Not any time soon, anyway!”

“That still holds! But, what I’d said, well it was a certified document . . . that states that I’m still a virgin!”

She’d said that! But then, she was, immediately, afraid that she’d uttered the declaration—far too loudly! Both turned—to see if they might’ve attracted the undivided attention, of the three people. The patrons—seated across, at the “real” counter. Or, perhaps, even piqued the interest, of the short-order “chef”. Apparently, the remark had not made any impression—on any of those worthies! (Whew!)

They turned back—to face one another once more. Jason’s “glow” had returned—in all its glory! At that point, the blush was, in fact, “abusing the privilege”! Valerie was fixing to add a little more fuel—to the enflamed, scarlet, complexion, seated across from her!

“I’m assuming,” she stated, “that you’ve still retained your… ah… your amateur status.”

The deepening of his “Crimson Tide”—positively assured her that she’d been, “direct-hit”, absolutely-positive, correct, in her, uncomplicated, not-too-difficult, diagnosis!

“Look, Jason.” Her expression was maintaining its most-favored