Send Down the Rain(8)

Rosco devoured his food. When finished, he licked his muzzle and stretched out on “his” bear rug in front of my fire. The wind had picked up, pushing the wind chill lower. In front of me, Rosco snored happily.

My cabin is well insulated, so I crack the window whenever the fire is lit. I telescoped the radio antennae and adjusted the dial. The radio signal strengthened, and her voice sounded through the air. As she welcomed listeners, I finished my coffee. Then I poured out the cold cup across from me and stamped out the cigarette, which had burnt itself down to a butt. I refilled both cups, lit a second cigarette, and snapped the brass Zippo closed on my thigh.

Putting on my reading glasses, I dialed the ten-digit number. Three thousand miles away, she recognized my caller ID and answered. The most widely listened to nighttime radio call-in show in the country. Live on the air. “Jo-Jo!” Her voice dripped. “How are you, baby?”

Every caller was her baby. I chuckled. “Alive.”

“Still surprising to you?”

“Suzy, every day is a mystery, darling.”

“I love it when you call me that.”

I, along with a couple hundred thousand guys like me, could hear her smile.

“How’re things in the mountains of North Carolina?”

“White and . . .” A glance out the window. “Getting worse.”

“You still pouring two cups of coffee?”

A glance at my table. “Yes, ma’am.”

“How many years you been calling in to my show?”

“A lot.”

“And in all those years, and all the times I’ve asked about that coffee, you’ve never explained why.”

“I know.”

“One of these days you’ve got to let me in on that secret.”

“I try to keep my promises.”

“That would make you different from many in uniform.” Her voice had fallen to a low whisper. Like lovers speaking between pillows. Suzy knew her place. While she was an advocate for the silent, which meant she got to stoke the anti-government vibe from time to time, she was also careful not to push it too far, knowing that the same people she was criticizing on the air were the back-channel people she called when the show ended.

I didn’t respond.

She let the dead air filter out across the airwaves. After about ten seconds, she said, “Least you went.”

“I try to keep my promises.”

She laughed. The sound just millimeters from the microphone. Layered behind her voice, her squeaking chair sounded through the radio. “What brings you to my ears this moonlit night?”

“Sharks’ teeth.”

“You’re such a romantic. Still dreaming about that beach, eh?”

“I’ve been called a lot of things. Romantic has never been one of them.”

“Why sharks’ teeth?”

I paused. Looking back. “I knew a girl once.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Growing up, me and this girl used to walk the beach.”

“Hmmmm . . .” She savored this, and in so doing allowed her listeners to do likewise.

I continued. “I’d lead her by the hand and we’d comb the beach looking for whatever washed up.”

“Any walk in particular?”

The snow was falling heavy now, but the moon had risen so it hung behind the clouds like a flashlight shining behind a sheet. “It was October. Harvest moon. So bright you could see your shadow. When the tide washed over the shells, leaving them wet, the shells would reflect like black diamonds. We filled up a backpack.”

“Was that before you shipped out?”

“A few months.”

“Sounds like a good memory.”

“It was innocence.”

At some point in Suzy’s back-and-forth, she usually dropped an emotional bomb that sent the listener reeling. Like having a Band-Aid ripped off your heart. For me, that bomb was here. But I knew it was coming.

“Did you love her?”

“I’m not sure I remember that emotion, but I do remember feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

In her conversations with guys like me, Suzy liked to walk her listeners up to the wire, stare beyond it, allowing our memories to take over, then retreat to safety. It was her way of forcing us to deal with what most of us didn’t want to deal with. But she was careful. She knew not to push too far. Each of us had a place from which we could not easily come back.

Suzy had mercy. She offered me an out. “It was a long time ago.”

I considered this. “I can still smell the salt air mixed with the smell of her shampoo.”

Suzy sidestepped. “You two have a favorite song?”

“We had a thing for Creedence.”

“Any song in particular?”

“I’ve always felt fortunate.”

Suzy laughed. But didn’t quite let me go. “One more question.” I knew it before she asked. “Whatever happened to the girl?”

The memory returned. I cleared my throat. “She married another.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Probably for the best. I was in pretty bad shape.”

“Did you know the guy?”

“Yes.” The snow was blowing sideways. “He was my brother.”