Touchy and Feely (Sissy Sawyer Mysteries) Read Free Page B

ready, and he had to smack his chest before he could speak.
    ‘It’s our winter special,’ she encouraged him. ‘Buy one hot chocolate, you get a second hot chocolate free.’
    ‘OK, then. Thanks.’
    Instead of bringing it, though, she stood by his table watching him, and after a while she said, ‘You’re running away, aren’t you?’
    ‘Me? No, ma’am.’
    ‘You don’t have any bags with you, do you? And your coat’s so thin.’
    Feely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’m running, yes. You’ve assessed that correctly. But I’m not like running away from anything. I’m like running toward something, you know? I’m trying to catch up with my future.’
    The waitress smiled sympathetically but it was obvious that she didn’t understand; or that she simply didn’t want to.
    Feely used his finger to describe an endless circle on the tablecloth. ‘I was like trapped in orbit. I was circling around and around and I was never getting anyplace. I broke free, that’s all. I managed to reach escape velocity.’
    ‘You ran away.’
    Feely didn’t try to correct her a second time. People who were involved in the conspiracy often tried to rationalize his behavior, and it wasn’t worth the effort of contradicting them. They accused him of using complicated words to hide his real feelings, but that wasn’t true either. He was seeking ways to express himself more precisely, so that he would have power over other people.
    Language is power , that’s what Father Arcimboldo had told him, in the sixth grade. Forget about fists. The right word can stop a man in his tracks. The right sentence can bring him down to his knees. What do you think has changed the world more, Fidelio? The atomic bomb, or the Bible?
    And poor young bullied Feely, with his nose still bleeding and tears still drying on his cheeks, had nodded, and understood, and the following day he had stolen a dictionary from Book Mart and the day after that he had gone back and liberated a thesaurus.
    Feely stayed in Billy Bean’s Diner until the waitress came over and said, ‘Kenny says you have to buy at least a muffin or else you’ll have to leave.’
    It was six minutes past five. Feely knew that he didn’t have enough money to stay here any longer, buying muffins.
    ‘Listen, there’s the Dorothy Day Hospitality House on Main Street, if you really have noplace to go. They’ll give you a bed for the night.’
    ‘That’s OK,’ said Feely. ‘I appreciate your concern but I mustn’t lose my momentum.’
    ‘No,’ the waitress agreed. She studied him dubiously, as if she expected to see his momentum hanging around his neck on a string.
    ‘How much do I owe you?’
    The waitress glanced behind her, toward the counter, and then gave him a quick shake of her head.
    ‘I have money,’ said Feely. ‘I don’t expect charity.’
    ‘It’s Christmas. Well, it’s nearly Christmas. One cheeseburger won’t make Kenny go bankrupt.’
    Feely stood up, and zipped up his windbreaker. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I hope one day that I can repay your abundant generosity a hundredfold.’
    Unexpectedly, the waitress leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘Just onefold will do, sugar. Good luck.’

Tender is the North
     
    T wenty-five minutes later he was standing out on Route 6, at the intersection with Tamarack Avenue, with his right thumb extended and his left hand lifted to shield his face from the wind. Behind him, the Wooster Cemetery was covered in whirling snow, so that the dead were buried even deeper, and the angels stood around in bizarre white party hats.
    He felt warmer and a little more together for having eaten, and he believed that his encounter with the waitress had been a sign that he was doing the right thing, even though she had tried to cajole him into ordering beans. He still had his $21.76, and his destiny lay northward, although he didn’t really know why. Bright and fierce and fickle is the South. Dark and true and tender is