NOW THAT I HAVE A CIGARETTE FETCH THE JOHNNY WALK BLACK!

NOW THAT I HAVE A CIGARETTE – FETCH THE JOHNNY WALK BLACK! - Cheating or Love; part 2

To say, “it's been a week,” only serves to minimizes what's been churning around in my heart and head. Once the filterless Camel is lit and the Johnny Walker is poured – and don't taint it with ice and water; leave it neat/virgin! - I'll be capable of assuming the position of a patron in one of those bars of common people such as myself. Please play some brokenhearted Sinatra. Ah, “All the Way;” appropriate choice.

It was snowing. It always snows in New England. If it's not cold enough to snow it will rain. Helios greedily withholds his Sun light from New Englanders.

“It’s natural for New Englanders to be irritating Helios. Try to find forgiveness for them for they are curiously under the delusion that they are the only justified inhabitants of North America.” LEGACY: let the games begin copyright 4/2010 pg 217 http://newbookjournal.com/2011/07/legacy-let-the-games-begin-by-celia-a-andriello/

It was my designated responsibility to take on the endless waiting duties of getting the car repaired. {We lived 20 miles from the nearest town with a decent mechanic so the duty was once again an ordeal of tedium that often lasted days – then eventually weeks.}

Walt was the proprietor of the then “TEXACO” station. It was one of those places that carried rustic ambiance. Walking into the office one would find used tires stacked in the front window with a blanket at the top, to accommodate the tan German Shepherd who curled-up on it to sleep. Prince, the dog, was a singular actor – he wasn't sleeping.

Opposite the tire picture window was a shelf that ran along the back wall that was squalor anarchy of various books, parts and pieces and pieces and parts. - Somehow the men who worked there knew where to find everything! The waiting chairs should have been as dusty as the rest of the office, but there were so many frequenters that they were pristine.

People came to Walt's for their morning coffee (free), to spout-off, and to pick-up on the latest town gossip. Often Walt would even buy everyone breakfast sandwiches at the corner diner.

Walt was from Germany. Before the red, white & blue infiltrated his country in WWII, on England's behalf, he lived on his dad's farm with his mom. He was an only child who recalled every square inch of that farm. Along its boarder ran a train that was used to pick-up fruits and vegetables to take into the city for sale. According to Walt, most of the farm was orchard; apples. When he'd talk about that home he was the child again, delighted with his reminiscences.

ME? I was the cocky friggin' Italian-American that was raised to believe that “The United States was the greatest country on Earth.” I carry that arrogance in my countenance; most Americans do.

When I met Walt he scared me to death! He was very tall, and very strong and always scowled. The man I used to be married to would send me to Walt's to get repairs done on the car and truck. I detested going, but I was more frightened of the repercussions of denying the then husband's directive than of Walt's scowl.

Whenever I'd arrive, there was always a wait and my vehicle was always put at the end of the line, even if I'd call days in advance. That went on for 5 years...like I said Walt was very patient. I had no idea as to why he was making me wait. The garage was small, and the waiting area was inside the door. It was cold, dusty and cluttered.

On the day the then husband walked-out to become the soon to be X husband; that very day I had to take the car to Walt's for repairs. As I sat in the front seat imploding in frustration Walt sat in the passenger seat taking far too long to rewire a window control. I had experienced enough time there to know his efficient expertise in fixing such a small problem. My withheld irritation detonated with, “You stay next to me much longer and I won't be responsible for what I do.”

His response was sobering, “I'm ready.” - I really had no idea until then. Justin, my 13 year old son, laughed out loud when I told him. Even with my son's mocking laughter I did not get it; in truth I didn't get it for another 3 months. I didn't realize he loved me.

Walt's garage was next door to his NAPA Parts Store, which was next door to his infamous Southwick Inn. (Southwick was a country town of maybe 7,000 people.) The Inn was much like the garage, nothing to write home about, but home to many a blue collar worker after rush hour. At Walt's I never lacked for wine!

One evening, while my soon to be lover was filling my wine glass the X walked in and started ranting on about what a whore he married and how he knew I was fucking all the men at the garage, foolishly describing in detail his fantasies. When I went to dive under a table Walt pulled me back, pointed a finger in my face and said, “Stay.” (Not very romantic, but for Walt it was extremely romantic.) Slow and deliberate, that was Walt as he rose, walked up to the X and instantly raised the X above his head and pressed him to the wall. Walt didn't yell; he never did, but the X got the message and left.

Walt returned to sit beside me and told me for the first time about his farm in Germany. I had never seen the child in him. He hated America because America took his farm. That same train that carried the family's fruits to the city served to board him, his mother, father, workers, and as many others it could pick-up along the way to chug them to Yugoslavia. In the transportation he lost his dad. The last image Walt had of his beautiful Shangri-la was American bombers blowing all hell out of his home. He was five years old when it happened. Fifty years later he told me the story. “I don't tell that story very much, but you have to know that you and I will never agree on this country.”

I was startled. “Walt, do you know who I am?”

“You can play hippie all you want, but your heart and blood are red, white and blue. Mine aren't.” Then we kissed. It was electrifying. I've kissed a lot of guys – a lot! Every time that man would kiss me a bolt of energy would race through me and bring my legs to breakdown.

After months of this reaction went by I asked if he was getting that reaction too. (You know me, always the little researcher.) He never wanted to bring it up because he was afraid my response would embarrass him. So big and strong and yet afraid of the 2 letter response of no while failing to see it was yes, of course.

I don't know why I felt I needed to write this, and you are under no obligation to read it. But it needed saying. The greatest heroes are those who are never heard from; Walt was my hero.

Peace Baby

I'm not yet finished. For Parts 3 go to:

IF YOU ENJOYED MY HUBPAGE ARTICLE THEN GO TO THIS ARTIST'S NOVELS AT AMAZON http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_15?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=celia+andriello&sprefix=celia+andriello

LET GO & FREE FALL INTO NEW BEGINNINGS

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