|
18.
Hugh Milton bade good evening to his two German friends, Max Juergen and Fritz Waldmeister in the parking lot of their apartment building on Parkway Plaza, La Mesa. Hugh had driven hom from the Serra Mesa job in his pickup truck, they in their beat up old VW Golf. All three men were tired and in need of a bath, a nap, a meal, and a cold beer. The beers they'd consumed on the roof during the day had long since worn off, except for a muzzy feeling that made Hugh feel extra tired.
Hugh trudged up the stairs, hoping Annie was home. Annie was his 22 year old live-in girlfriend. She was a small, cute young woman with gray eyes and short brown hair and, as Hugh thought of it, a tight little body. She had just finished her degree in English at San Diego State University, and was about to start a summer program to get her teaching certificate for city schools. Until then, she'd be working part time as a hairdresser. Things were tight, but they knew they could make it. She was trying to urge him to resume his studies in Engineering at the University of California, San Diego. They'd been talking seriously about becoming engaged, and he thought of her as his fiancee. Sure enough, when he rattled the key in the door of their one-bedroom on the third floor, Annie pulled the door open and smothered him in a happy embrace. What a great way to come home, he thought, as he hugged her and nuzzled his nose in her neck.
"You go take a hot shower," she said enthusiastically, "and I'll make us a nice dinner." She wrinkled her nose. "You smell of beer and sweat."
"I've been working hard, baby."
"Bringing home the bacon?" She made a money-money gesture with thumb and index finger.
"Yeah, actually—" He reached in his overalls pocket and fumbled out fifty bucks. "—They advanced me some cash because I told them we need grocery money and gas."
"How nice!" Annie said. "I'll get youa nice cold beer."
"Thanks." Truth was, he reflected as he shed his dirty clothing on the way into the bathroom, he was beered out for the day. Fritz and Max could inhale it down like oxygen, but at 25, Hugh thought he must be slowing down with old age already. His skin was red and hot from exposure to the sun, but the two Germans were good about using sunblock. Hugh took a hot shower amid loud rock music. He whistled happily as he soaped up in the steamy air. He heard a knock on the door—"Honey, dinner is ready!"—and replied "I'll be right out!"
They sat together on the tiny balcony looking east over a huge willow tree sitting on a slope. They felt lucky to have this place, because the eastern exposure meant they could enjoy early morning sunshine, but weren't baked all day and evening as the sun turned along the southern horizon and beat into west-facing apartments late into summer evenings. It was shady here, and they got a nice breeze. They toasted each other with cans of beer, and ate sloppy joes on buns. She always made salads, and this evening was no exception. He loved the tangy raspberry-lime dressing amid chopped lettuce and other goodies. After dinner, Annie went to clean up, while Hugh got himself a large glass of cold water and lay down on the couch. He wasn't feeling so well.
Annie came out wringing her hands in a dish towel. "You okay?" He managed to groan in reply, holding his stomach while lying stretched out on his back. She pressed: "What's the matter?"
"Not sure. Are you okay?"
"Yes," she said. "I feel fine. It couldn't be my dinner."
"I didn't mean that. My stomach is all up in knots."
"Maybe you're coming down with something."
"Maybe."
"I'm sorry, Honey." She knelt by his side and hugged him, kissing his chin and neck. "Maybe later we can have a little fun and you'll feel better."
"I'd like that," he said sincerely, hugging her to him. A long moan escaped him. "Sorry," he said.
"Maybe you should take a magazine and go sit in the bathroom," she said with a laugh.
"Yeah, I'll try that." With effort, he hove himself erect and staggered off to the bathroom. He wasn't in there a minute before he had a severe bout of diarrhea. When it seemed he was empty, he discharged water. Then he threw up—a lot of lettuce and little bits of this and that. He flushed the toilet each time, until it seemed he had nothing left but empty cramps.
At one point, Annie knocked on the door—quick nervous knocks. "Are you okay in there?"
"Yeah." His own voice rang hollow in his ears in the confines of the small bathroom. He managed to make it to bed, where he lay curled up in a fetal position. "Honey!"
She poked her head in. "What is it?"
"Can you call Fritz and Max and ask them if they have this?"
"Sure." She reported back ten minutes later: "They say they feel fine. If you can't make it tomorrow, no sweat. They'll pay you the full nut, because you worked so hard on the hard part."
"Wonderful." Cramped up, he fell asleep.
He awoke at the first light of dawn, feeling pretty good. He felt thirsty, a little dizzy, a little weak, but otherwise fine. He downed a quart of orange juice, hoping it wouldn't give him the runs again. He made himself bacon and eggs with toast and jam while Annie slept peacefully. There was a gentle knock on the door—Fritz—"Are you coming along?"
"Yeah, man, just give me five minutes, okay?"
He kissed Annie goodbye as she slept, gathered his work clothes and water bottle, and marched out the door for work as if nothing had happened. He felt a little odd, and thought it must be all the beer he'd consumed the day before. No more beer, he resolved. Only water and sodas. Clean living! Then maybe this odd feeling would go away.
|
