Robert Joseph McGregor or "Bobby Joe" as he was known to his family, waited nervously at a seedy downtown Bus Station in Tallahassee, Florida. The once handsome aeronautical engineer was now greying at the temples and showing other signs of wear and tear. The life he'd ended up living after his marriage ended had definitely aged him. Worse than the physical ravages of time were the mental scars he now bore.
"I...I hope I'm doing the right thing Pete." He said quietly to the burly man carrying his bag.
"It's the only thing you can do Bobby...you know that." He responded.
A rare smile crossed Bobby's lined face as he nodded his head in agreement. Bobby wasn't sure where he would be if it weren't for Pete St. John. Once his boss, now his sponser and best friend in the world. Maybe his only friend in the world, or so it seemed to Bob.
Pete St. John knew there was an element of risk involved in this cross country bus trip for Bobby. Maybe nine months was too soon. But the aging used car lot owner knew there was no time like the present. Bob needed to do this more than anything he'd ever done. There was still a glimmer of hope for him. For Pete, that made it worth while.
Pete knew his friend's life was virtually hanging in the balance as the smoke belching bus pulled up. Bob did his best to affect a confident aire as he turned to say goodbye.
"Well, wish me luck Pete!"
"You make your own luck in this life Bobby." Pete simply replied.
Bobby's face softened and he took a deep breath. "You always manage to say the right thing Buddy!" He said, shaking his head.
Bouyed at least somewhat, Bob began to slowly climb the stairs up into the bus. The limp he'd acquired during his days on the streets in Miami complicated even simple things like this.
"One step at a time Bobby!" Pete called from the walkway. "One step at a time."
Bob didn't audibly reply but nodded in acknowledgment of the comment. He made his way to a window seat near the rear and peered outside, hoping for one last look at his friend and mentor.
Barrel chested Pete St. John was there, like he always seemed to be, waving back.
"Got that phone number?" He shouted.
Joe pulled the business card from his shirt pocket and waved it for Pete to see.
The usual array of characters eventually wandered onto the bus. Most people flew on airplanes these days. Hell, A DC-7 would deliver him to L.A. in only about eight and a half hours! Trains, once a staple of American travel, were now generally reserved for those either afraid of flying or blessed with enough time to be able to "Enjoy the ride."
Nobody on that westbound Greyhound really had any notion of enjoying this trip. But they all had a reason to travel and this was the cheapest way to go.
Bob continued to watch his older friend while waiting for the passengers to get settled. It was as if he wanted to soak up as much of his influence as possible before, once again, he was on his own.
Pete St John had no intention of leaving before the bus did. You didn't have to be a mind reader to understand the turmoil that Bob McGregor must have been experiencing right then. Twenty years of sobriety had placed Pete at a different point on this journey. But he'd been where Bob was now...and he knew it wasn't going to be easy.
The South Florida heat was beginning to kick in now and the bus had a hot stretch ahead. There were just a handful of well wishers still assembled as the bus began to slowly pull away. They waved and called to the passengers until the coach finally managed to pull onto the main road and headed out of town.
Bob tried his best to keep his mind free but now, finally en route to California, It was hard not to think of the life he'd left behind there seemingly eons ago. "Little Christina, or 'Tina' must be a teenager by now." He mumbled to himself. And Pam...
Suddenly, Bob was fighting back tears again. To think he once had the committed love and devotion of a woman like her...it was almost impossible to believe now. What a mess he'd made of his life. Bobby pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, hoping to clear his head.
The countryside slowly moved past as the bus eventually hit the open road. It was about then that Bob's mind finally, against his will, began to drift back to that seemingly innocent summer day. "The beginning of the end!" He sardonically thought. Ike was still president, the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn and he was married to the sweetest woman that ever lived. Then...one balmy summer day, everything changed.
With his wife and daughter gone for the day, Bob McGregor was getting his golf clubs ready for a round later that morning. He noticed the neighbor lady from across the back fence. She was up on a ladder trying to harvest oranges from one of the trees in their back yard. Joe smiled at the sight. Lucy was dressed like always in short shorts and a flowered blouse that she tied at the waist...Island style!
Bob had seen the pretty short haired blond many times just over the fence and Damn! She looked good! Supposedly her husband traveled a lot and never seemed to be around. Lucy was personable and thought nothing of asking Bob for help starting the mower, adjusting the screen doors...little household chores.
Bob didn't mind a bit! It gave him an opportunity to check her out right up close! Those short shorts really showed off her ripe little butt cheeks which he really got a kick out of. Pam insisted on wearing a panty girdle which pretty much took all the "Swing and Sway" from her rear. Not Lucy! "If you've got it, flaunt it!" was apparently her motto.
"That's a lot of trouble to go to for those sour oranges there Lucy!" He called to her. This housing development had been built on the site of an orange grove and the planners decided to leave some trees in place to avoid that "New Tract" look.
"Look! You can harvest all the oranges you want! The salesman had told them when they were considering the house. Like all midwesterners, Bob and Pam were smitten at the sight of the bright oranges hanging down from the branches. It just seemed so...California!
But the first taste of the oranges dispelled that myth completely. They were horrible! You had to sweeten a glass of home squeezed orange juice with several teaspoons of sugar...just to make it drinkable! "The trees are only good for so long and then they lose their flavor." He was told by a longtime resident.
The tight bodied little housewife looked back at Bob and smiled. "What do you mean? They're great!" Lucy then reached up for a particularly juicy looking orange just above where she was balanced on the ladder. The ladder began to tip and she was barely able to keep from toppling over.
"Hey now! Don't hurt yourself!" He yelled. "Wait a minute, I can help out here!"