It was March, but the winds of March were at a lull. It was two hours' drive to Cape Hatteras. Dirty as the car was, it was running fine.
I listened to Jethro Tull on the way down. I made a playlist of his songs centered around sex. Sexual mischief, sexual hypocrisy, seduction, prostitution are all subjects, and Tull does a few love songs. Sings passionately about women and means it.
Coming to the little town I saw the lighthouse and found my motel. My room was fresh and dry, clean but a bit warm. I walked out the door and noticed flags dancing on steel poles. Cape Hatteras is fine until it gets blown apart by a hurricane. I washed my face and my hands. I took a shirt and some pants out for going out later.
I was at the beach. I wanted seafood. Fried fish was good, but fried fish and shrimp was better. Fried shrimp and I got more shrimp. That was technically easier to consume. Baked potato is better for me but french fries are finger food. I could eat butterfly shrimp one at a time and be on the lookout for a different kind of food. A female could whet my appetite then fill up that empty spot. I'd do it for her.
The seafood restaurant was full of people at 6 pm. It was March. I wanted to sit at the bar. Sitting at the oyster bar felt more sociable than sitting alone at a table. The bar looked full. Except for one barstool.
On the seat closest to the front of the restaurant was a mere slip of a girl, with yellow hair braided into a frothy ponytail. I thought I'd get my tobacco pipe and my bagpipes.
On the other side of the empty seat was a big farm boy who easily was over 250. He had on suspenders. As every oyster was opened by the burly clean-shaven black guy, the guy at the bar chased every crustacean with draft beer.
She looked far less a challenge. I almost tapped the girl on the shoulder but instead I said with some volume, "Ma'am, is this seat taken?"
She turned to look at me. "No, you can sit there, honey. If you wanna sit with these mice." Then she grinned at me.
I superficially ignored the comment. I had to. I love a classic novel, but not one depressing as hell.
"Thanks" I said, and sat down. Her perfume smelled good and didn't knock me off the stool.
I saw a similarity between this female and the beautiful Carol Kane. What a beautiful actress, in the TV classic Taxi, and beautiful was this girl. I supposed Julie was in her late 30's. Her face showed natural signs of having a birthday every year.
The little TV up on the wall was on. I tried to act like I was interested in the usual goings on in India. I was slyly looking at her, eating her clam chowder. The woman-girl was nicely rounded. Her sweater stuck to her all over. So did her faded blues.
I wanted to feel how soft she was. I could not tell if she pulled her sweater on over her brassiere with nothing in between.
She turned her face forward again and took another sip of her clam chowder. She was fair-skinned. She looked across the room past me and I saw a I-haven't-slept-in-three-days look in her eyes. Same as the sexy cab driver in Taxi.
Standing close and facing me, her eyebrows might brush against my nose. Her breasts would push her tight bra against my ribs. She would lift her face, her eyes shutting. My head would fall forward as I gazed upon her knockers. My hands would slip down her back to put my hands on...
"Have you decided what you'd like?" the waitress asked. Here again in the present, I said yes. I ordered my food and unsweetened tea.
When the guy left, the girl looked at me and said "You sure are hungry. You're really going to eat twelve fan-tailed shrimp?"
"Oh, yes." I answered. "And love every one."
"Wow. Lot of food." She was adrift on a piece of wood.
I didn't know if I should ask her name. She'd think I was lost in the early eighties. She was almost through with her meal. She wasn't wearing her name tag.
"Will you please tell me your name?" I asked with emphasis on "please" and the unsaid thank ya.
She reared her head, looking at me, and said "What is this? A pick-up bar?"
She turned back to her soup. Then she turned back to me and touched my arm through my flannel shirt. "I'm just kidding. Really. My name is Julie. What is your name?"
I told her. "Are you having another one of those?" I nodded toward the draft beer.
Julie looked at me with totally false shock. She knew I'd caught on to her clowning, so she appeared normal again. She said one or two was her limit.
"How many does this one make?" For a tea-totaler, I was pushing my limit. How I got this far with Julie, I didn't know.
"This is one, Ray. But this was my meal." She motioned toward the finished soup and crackers, and the salad leftovers.
The waiter brought my food. I was full of myself today, so I said "Would you please bring the lady another mug?"
She had just lit a cigarette, and smiled at the waiter. He promptly went away and came right back with a new cold mug.
Julie straightened up on her stool. "Thank you. I owe you one." Her other glass was empty now.
"You're welcome." Much ado, thought me. I acted as I believed so, and went back to dipping a golden-fried shrimp into the red sauce.
"So, Ray, how far away do you live?"
"It's about 2 hours north by northwest."
Julie took another hit of her smoke, tapped it on the ashtray. "What if the train doesn't stop?"
Too long since I'd seen the movie I just referenced, so I had to fake it. "Let's hope it does. Listen, Julie, I cannot eat all these. Besides, you need to wash your beer down with something. Don't you?" .........
Julie complained in earnest. In fact she only had two or three of my fan-tail shrimp, and I was full. I shared the golden hush puppies. I asked her "What is there to do here in winter?"
She made a corny grin and said "Oh, see the lighthouse and museum. You could get laid, if you can foresee it."
Julie caught a glimpse of my expression and quietly laughed, putting out her cigarette.
With stopwatch precision the waiter glided up to the bar.
"Can I get you anything else?"
I looked up, said "No." I raised my hand. "Can you give me the lady's check?."
I looked over at her plate. The girl-woman said "I don't want you to do that."
Let's see those eyes in a bedroom, I thought. I looked at the waiter. He whisked himself off and came back with the other check. I already had the money out, and I swear nobody in the whole restaurant saw my wallet, including Julie.
My spontaneous date was over, and I paid the check. I said "I'll see you around, angel." I did not know what else to say to her. I wandered to the men's room.
When I came out I didn't see the woman.
I thought, Well, you lost her, bud. But if she really likes you...
Julie came up and pinched my arm, as I got to the exit. "There is one place I can show you. They just fixed the pinball machine."
Magic fingers in the air. At the register I proffered a handful of ones.
........
Julie batted the silver ball against the backboard again, and the ball bounced against bumpers, through channels. The flippers were anatomically connected to hot Julie. It was the third game. She was 2-0 about to make it 3-0. Pinball was a fun icebreaker. I didn't play all that much, so I didn't take it hard. I looked down at the little memo pad I'd been keeping score on. I did not see the point. Her third game ended and I was stomped.
"Oh, come on, man." Julie cried. "You are not playing the last game?"
"I'd have to score 880,000 points to tie. But I know I should play the game. I concede." I rolled my eyes. I put my hand over my face.
We were in a hole-in-the-wall bar and the only patrons. The girl selling the beers was in the back, talking on the phone.
"Want to sit down?" I motioned over to a booth.
From the restaurant down the tiny street to the bar I did not touch my new friend Julie. We sat down. Nothing was on, even the bar TV was off. It was just me and her.
Julie was not on a bender. She was just drinking. I had the idea of taking her down far, far in the back of my mind. It was really cool the way we were together. We talked, but there were long periods of time we did not talk in the hole-in-the-wall.
"If you're not from Nag's Head, how did you get here?" I asked.