9th Ticket Devon

I was paying for my overnight package to Tom when a female voice behind me said, “hi Mr. Mallam.”

I turned to see Devon standing there, also waiting to send a package. “Oh, Hi Devon. How are you?”

“Pretty good.” She said. “My little brother’s birthday and graduation both fell on the same day this year. I’m scrambling to pull a few things together.”

The girl behind the counter ran my card, gave me a receipt. “Your Brother’s a lucky guy to have a sister who remembers.” I said, putting my card and receipt in my wallet.

“Thank you, Mr. Mallam. I try.”

“Does your brother know what’s coming or is this a total surprise?”

“Leggos. Van Gogh’s Starry Night and a Montblanc Meisterstuck. I think he’ll be surprised.”

“Wow. Remind me to tell you when my birthday’s coming up.”

“Sure.” She laughed.

We left the store and walked out to the parking lot. “Okay, Devon, I guess I’ll see you in class.”

“Hey, Mr. Mallam, wait a sec, would you like to get a latte or something?”

I hesitated for a moment, not sure if being seen with a student was a good idea.

“My treat.” she said.

“Ahh, yeah, sure why not. I’ll follow you.” I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet so Devon’s treat would fill the gap until dinner.

I followed her to Quick Joe. A trendy coffee bar frequented by students and young urban professionals. Devon knew everyone inside and told them she would have her regular latte. “You, Mr. Mallam?”

“Same thing your having.” I said.

“Okay two latte’s and two, Or somethings.”

“Devon, what are, Or somethings?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table.

“It’s a bacon and egg biscuit. Customer’s were always coming in and saying they wanted a coffee or something. So they changed the name of their breakfast biscuit to, Or Something. They also have a Some-o-That salad.”

“Very creative.” I said. “A menu based on mangling the English language. Hey, this, Or Something, is delicious by the way. Thanks so much.”

“Oh My pleasure.”

I was intrigued by the gift combination of Leggos and a Montblanc pen. “Is your brother graduating from high school?”

“Law school.” She said with her mouth half full. “He’s been into Leggos since he was a kid and for some reason he’s always wanted a Montblanc.”

“Devon, what do you do when your not in school?”

“I own a moving company.”

“A moving company?”

“Fifty Ways Moving. Inspired by the song, Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover. We do small moves, six to 12 items in the back of a pickup. In a college town semesters start and end quickly, everyone’s looking for new digs all the time. Then there’s the ones who think they’re in love and move in together and just as quickly fall apart. That’s when my services are required.”

“Is Fifty Ways doing well?”

“I have 5 subcontractors working for me, each with their own pickup. I pay twenty dollars an hour and a flat 40 bucks a day for gas. Easy gig.”

“Have you thought of getting a business degree?”

“Already have one. And an MBA.”

“Amazing. I don’t think a lot of students your age would have the...”

“My age?” She laughed. “How old do you think I am?”

“I would guess 25, maybe?”

“Oh your so sweet, I love you too, but no, I’m 31.”

“I would have guessed 24.” Lowering her age and dispensing easy flattery.

“I started at the U of U when I was 17, by twenty-one had a bachelors and by 23, an MBA.”

“What was going on between 23 and 31?”

“Everything and nothing at all. I drove a semi, worked on a fishing boat outside of Anchorage, ran a dive shop in the keys.”

“What were you running away from?”

“You are perceptive, Mr. Mallam. A broken heart, I guess.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Love of my life. High school sweet heart. But he ran away with my little sister.” She shrugged her shoulders like it was inevitable.

“Ouch!” I said. This was sounding uncomfortably familiar. “Hey we’ve been here an hour and a half.”

“It’s been good getting to know you.” Said Devon. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“What’s you’re number, I’ll call you.” I said.

“Better idea, I’ll send my number right to your cell.” She said, her fingers moving quickly over the tiny keys.

“How do you have my number?” I asked.

“On the class schedule. Mr. Drake passed it out. Ted Drake. Sounds like a character on one of those 60’s sitcoms like Bewitched or My Three Son’s. The character that’s often referred to but seldom seen. Crap, hold it, I messed up, too busy talking. I took a screenwriting class before I decided on journalism. Okay there you go, you should have it. Check your phone.”

I took a quick look. “Yes there it is. Okay.”

Hey Mr. Mallam, don’t tell Mr. Drake what I said. I was only talking about the name not him personally.”

“Of course not.” I said.

“But you have to admit nothing spells one hundred percent polyester like, Ted Drake.”

“I guess. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Any time.”

She quickly got into her Dodge Ram pick up and took off. I waited in the 911 before starting it. This student, 34 years my junior had made me feel both old and awkward and young and foolish. I had no business being with her. Was I going to call her? Absolutely. I started the 911, adjusted the air and cooled down. Found Joe Cocker’s cover of, ‘I put A Spell On you’ while pulling out of the lot. I hit the highway and cranked the volume.

I debated weather or not to make the call. Inviting someone I hardly knew to Melissa’s memorial service might be a little much. Then, on the other hand, having company for the long ride to Range made sense. By the time we arrive we’ll either know everything there is to know about each other and deepen our friendship or be really sick of each other and spend an awkward weekend trying to explain ourselves to friends and family. This is how the conversation sounded on my end.

“Hey Devon hi, aah, I’m not disturbing you am I? Okay good, I thought I might be….I was wondering if you might like to take a ride up to Range this weekend, I mean if your not busy. No Range Montana, My home town. Yeah, born and raised. What are we going to be doing? No you don’t have to bring your fly fishing gear. I have to meet with an attorney and go over some papers, that’ll only take an hour or so, then there’s a memorial service for an old friend. You guessed it, Yeah, an old girlfriend. Yup my onetime fiance. Okay I admit we were, at one time, very close. Similar to you and your boyfriend.

Well, yeah, I guess we do have a few things in common. I think it will be a very small group of people because we both left in 73 and and haven’t really been home until right now. There’s a couple generations that don’t know who we are. Yeah, you’ll meet my mom and dad. And my brother, Tom. Tom is the attorney I have to meet with. Yup, your brother and my brother. So I’ll pick you up Friday morning around eight am. We’ll be missing class, yeah. Ted will be teaching that day. Yes, Polyester Ted, great nickname. Alright bye.”

And what she said...

“No. not disturbing. Just having a nightcap before tucking in. What’s up? Range, like Home on the Range, oh your place? What’s to do in Range? You gotta keep this girl busy, Jimmy. I can bring my fly rod, a Helios 3 Blackout, by the way. We can get on some Montana stream...And what? An attorney? Are you in trouble? What am I supposed to do for an hour? Don’t worry I’ll think of something, I guess. Hold it, hold it, what did you say? A funeral? I knew it, I knew it. Your in your sixties now, honey the weak ones start dropping off first. Oh, an old girlfriend, right? I’ll drink to that; another nightcap please. This is the one that got away, hey Jim? Just like Troy ditched me for my sister. The things we have in common. Your brother’s an attorney? My brother’s an attorney too, did I mention that? OK Yeah. Meeting your mom? I’m not the kind of girl a boy brings home to his mother. I Spent years shredding that image. Friday at eight. I’ll be ready. Great, I won’t have to sit through one of polyester Ted’s lectures. Yeah. See ya.”

Friday by eight we were on the road. Devon brought a coach bag with a change of clothes, a pink skirt and white blouse for the memorial service. She actually got it out and showed me. And a pair of Levi’s, a denim shirt and a leather vest for traveling. Also a couple zip-lock bags with salmon sandwiches and chips. I held the door open for her, she got in and we were off.

Traveling Talk

“You said you took a screenwriting class.”

“Yeah.” Said Devon.

“What made you choose Journalism over screenplays?”

“I felt I had a better shot at getting my work published.”

“What’s your ultimate goal?”

“Use my MBA to land a Wall street gig. I understand finance, How money flows, especially in the agricultural sector.”

“Use everything you’ve learned. That’s a good idea.”

“It’s not what I planned but it’s what I got.”

“What were your plans?”

“Married to Troy, helping him run his family’s farm.”

“What do they farm?” I asked.

“Potatoes, cattle. In school everyone called him Mr. Meat and potatoes.”

“So is he back home running the family farm?”

“No. He and my sister live in LA. They wanted to be actors.”

“Now that’s a very unforgiving business.”

“Tell me about it. They got out there and Candy discovered she was pregnant and Troy was broke. Eventually Troy's dad paid for him and her to go to hair dressing school. My dad paid for them to have an apartment in Hollywood so they could pursue their show business dreams.”

“So they did succeed to a degree.” I said.

“Succeeded after they got their hair degrees. I’ve seen both their names in the credits of some fairly big films.”

“How did your sister lure him away from you?”

“Troy’s an idiot.”

“That’s it, he’s an idiot?” I asked sensing her bitterness.

“Yeah, pretty much. See in High School, Troy was the center of the universe. He was captain of the football team, class valedictorian, handsome to the third degree. He liked attention. Of course I was so blind in love I didn’t see him slipping away. I thought we were going to get married right after high school and settle down, start a family. My mother drilled into me that small townfolks were special. Everything you need is right here and if you have to go looking for a life or a spouse in the city than your doing something wrong. I thought I was doing everything right. I Had my man, my man had a job, we were set. After graduation he starts getting cold feet not sure he wants to settle down right away. He always added that ‘right away’ caveat on the end of his excuses. School was over, the attention was drying up and he was restless. Maybe if his old man had built some bleachers out in the field so people could cheer while he rode around on a tractor all day he might have been happy. Only people paying attention to him now were the cows. So I wait around for two months and finally I’m fed up. I’m not wasting time waiting for him to decide something that I thought had already been decided. So when my acceptance letter came I showed it to him and said I was leaving town. He had this really lame, sorry to see you go, hope your happy, response. I was crushed. He didn’t love me, probably never did. But I was determined not to let it show. That first year I studied like a madman Monday through Friday and partied like a beast on weekends. Running from the hurt and lucky I never got pregnant.”

“But where does your sister come in?”

“Candy, my fifteen year old sister, starts making her presence felt after I left. Starts calling him, just to let him know how I’m doing. That turned into a full blown romance. She put the idea in his head that he’s far too “vast” for this one horse town.”

“Interesting choice of words.” I said.

“She was always coming up with weird ways of saying stuff. Unfortunately Troy was listening. On Candy’s 16th birthday they set out for the vastness of LA in the middle of the night.”

“Are they still together?”

“Thirteen years. Three kids. Oh, guess where the kids spend their summer vacations ?”

“Grandpa's farm in Idaho?”

“Yup. Three little meat and potato heads”

“Are you still running from the hurt?”

“I’m trying to understand it. It takes too much energy to contain this anger, hurt, resentment. My grandmother told me once that I had too much passion and not enough contentment.” Devon leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “My screenwriting class was my last pathetic attempt to get him back.”

“Get some rest.” I said.

She smiled. “Thanks for listening, I’m all talked out, Jim. Good night.” She fell off to sleep suddenly and without warning.