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Authors: Jim Lehrer
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drinking,” said Jack. The layovers were only twelve hours usually, and twelve hours was also the limit on drinking—no driver could have even a sip of alcohol less than twelve hours before pulling a run. The smell of a beer on the breath of a driver reporting for duty was grounds for immediate suspension and eventual dismissal.
“Nah, nah,” said Horns, who was from Louisiana and spoke in an accent that Jack thought made his own South Texas one sound like he was from Alaska or somewhere else up north. “The picture show in the next block.”
“No, thank you,” Jack said.
The picture show in the next block was a theater that showed only girlie movies. Jack had walked by it many times but had never been inside.
“It’s not the real thing but it’ll do until you can get the real thing,” said Horns Livingston.
“Not interested right now, but thanks.”
“You-all not interested in women? Is that what you-all not interested in? Are you interested in something else besides women? Is that what you-all are saying?”
“No, that is not what I’m saying.”
“You-all a married man, I’m a married man. I don’t run around on my old lady, you-all don’t run around on your oldlady. So what does that leave a man to do? A man who needs to keep himself at a fever pitch at all times, ready to go the second he’s back home? What does that leave a man to do, Jack? You-all tell me.”
Jack had never met Horns’s wife but he had seen lots of photos of her. Horns carried them around with him as religiously as he did his ticket punch and log book. And he seemed to have a new set every couple of weeks. Her name was Janet Lee and she was clearly a well-endowed, well-stacked woman with a lot of blond hair twisted and waved and arranged on the top of her head. The photos showed her behind the wheel of a car, lounging outside on a hammock, smoking a cigarette in a kitchen, picking flowers and doing all kinds of others things.
“I have nothing to say to you about that,” Jack said.
“I give Janet Lee everything I have to give, and that means whenever I get home from a run. I mean the second I come through the door, there she stands without a speck of clothes on her body. So I have got to be ready three times a week. Going to these movies helps me stay ready.”
It was his talking like this that caused him to get the nickname Horns.
The theater was called the Lone Star Majestic. It may at one time have shown real movies with real movie stars like Ava Gardner and Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable but it hadn’t since Jack had been coming to Houston and staying at the Milam just down the street.
Horns gave Jack a wave and headed for the box office. Jack kept walking. He did look at the posters advertising the movie that was showing,
Lovesick Spies Blues.
There were some black-and-white photographs of some of the women who appeared in the movie.
None of them looked a bit like Ava Gardner or even Claudette Colbert.
CHAPTER 5
T hen five days later it was Friday again. And there, like Refugio, she was.
She looked exactly the way he had remembered her, exactly the way he had seen her in his mind ever since the previous Friday at this same precise time. The only difference was in the way she was dressed. She had on a purple blouse that had sleeves all the way to her wrists.
It meant he would not be able to feel the touch of her skin again.
“Well, good afternoon,” he said as she handed him her ticket.
“Good afternoon,” she replied.
Well, good afternoon.
Good afternoon.
He tried to capture the sound of her voice within his head, like on a phonograph record, so he could play it back again. And again.
“One-way to Corpus again,” he said, as he read the ticket, punched it and tore it into two parts—one for her, one for him and the Great Western Trailways auditors.
Again, she smiled but said nothing. She took back her portion of the ticket and, with his gentle assistance, stepped up into the
“Nah, nah,” said Horns, who was from Louisiana and spoke in an accent that Jack thought made his own South Texas one sound like he was from Alaska or somewhere else up north. “The picture show in the next block.”
“No, thank you,” Jack said.
The picture show in the next block was a theater that showed only girlie movies. Jack had walked by it many times but had never been inside.
“It’s not the real thing but it’ll do until you can get the real thing,” said Horns Livingston.
“Not interested right now, but thanks.”
“You-all not interested in women? Is that what you-all not interested in? Are you interested in something else besides women? Is that what you-all are saying?”
“No, that is not what I’m saying.”
“You-all a married man, I’m a married man. I don’t run around on my old lady, you-all don’t run around on your oldlady. So what does that leave a man to do? A man who needs to keep himself at a fever pitch at all times, ready to go the second he’s back home? What does that leave a man to do, Jack? You-all tell me.”
Jack had never met Horns’s wife but he had seen lots of photos of her. Horns carried them around with him as religiously as he did his ticket punch and log book. And he seemed to have a new set every couple of weeks. Her name was Janet Lee and she was clearly a well-endowed, well-stacked woman with a lot of blond hair twisted and waved and arranged on the top of her head. The photos showed her behind the wheel of a car, lounging outside on a hammock, smoking a cigarette in a kitchen, picking flowers and doing all kinds of others things.
“I have nothing to say to you about that,” Jack said.
“I give Janet Lee everything I have to give, and that means whenever I get home from a run. I mean the second I come through the door, there she stands without a speck of clothes on her body. So I have got to be ready three times a week. Going to these movies helps me stay ready.”
It was his talking like this that caused him to get the nickname Horns.
The theater was called the Lone Star Majestic. It may at one time have shown real movies with real movie stars like Ava Gardner and Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable but it hadn’t since Jack had been coming to Houston and staying at the Milam just down the street.
Horns gave Jack a wave and headed for the box office. Jack kept walking. He did look at the posters advertising the movie that was showing,
Lovesick Spies Blues.
There were some black-and-white photographs of some of the women who appeared in the movie.
None of them looked a bit like Ava Gardner or even Claudette Colbert.
CHAPTER 5
T hen five days later it was Friday again. And there, like Refugio, she was.
She looked exactly the way he had remembered her, exactly the way he had seen her in his mind ever since the previous Friday at this same precise time. The only difference was in the way she was dressed. She had on a purple blouse that had sleeves all the way to her wrists.
It meant he would not be able to feel the touch of her skin again.
“Well, good afternoon,” he said as she handed him her ticket.
“Good afternoon,” she replied.
Well, good afternoon.
Good afternoon.
He tried to capture the sound of her voice within his head, like on a phonograph record, so he could play it back again. And again.
“One-way to Corpus again,” he said, as he read the ticket, punched it and tore it into two parts—one for her, one for him and the Great Western Trailways auditors.
Again, she smiled but said nothing. She took back her portion of the ticket and, with his gentle assistance, stepped up into the
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