tealeaves

TEALEAVES

Greg Gibson finished his Earl Grey tea and went to work, soon getting swallowed up by the morning customers.

Greg took the order for Table 4 to the kitchen and handed it to the cook.

“He’s out there again, Mom, Sheriff Barnes.”

“Sheriffs got to eat too, Greg,” said Norma Gibson. “Nothing to worry about”

“I’m not worried. Mom, it's not me who he is trying to date. “

“Is his daughter with him? You and Veronica are both in the freshman class at the university. You should get to know her more.”

“Next thing I know, you will want to go on a double date,” scoffed Greg

Norma laughed.” Be kind to your mom, Greg, I’m just doing the best I can.”

Greg’s father had died from a heart attack three years ago, at age 45. Grief weighed them both down under a lake of sorrow.

“Anyway, she’s not with him. It's breakfast time, but Veronica has an early class.”

Greg left the kitchen with the breakfast plate and a large coffee to go. He placed the plate in front of the sheriff, who said nothing. Greg took the coffee to the register and gave it to Deputy Bannon.

“Thanks, Greg,” the deputy said while handing him a buck fifty. “There you go. I must have my morning brew before I can hold back the scores of bad guys in town.” He smiled at Greg and left. Greg doubted very much if Deputy Bannon would see a criminal all week. The town made some money on speeders passing through, but he gave most locals a free pass.

Not long after Deputy Bannon left, the sheriff came from the back. He waved at Greg as he left the restaurant.” Put it on my tab, son.”                                                                                                                   Greg just shook his head. The Sheriff had no tab; he expected to get his meals for free. He had spoken to his mom about it, but she had just said to let it go. Greg did not want to let it go, but it was his mom’s restaurant, so he kept quiet.         

Once the day girl Angie came in, Greg went to school. Staying awake in classes was always hard because he worked so many hours at the store. He met Veronica in the student lounge between classes.

Veronica leaned in and hugged him.” Good morning,” her melodic voice always thrilled him. I have news.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “You always have news. It's like the whole world reports to you so you can keep me informed.”

She ignored him and sat down next to him. “You will like this one. My father is leaving town Thursday and won’t return until Sunday.”

“Now that is interesting. You will have your house all to yourself. Think of the possibilities,” Greg said, humor in his voice.

“Exactly. I expect you to devise a plan by Thursday.” Veronica put her hand over his and looked into his blue eyes. “I can think of at least one.” Then she got up. “Next class is starting.” she waved at him as she crossed the lounge and out the door.

After he finished his afternoon class, Greg went to a local food supplier and got an order for the restaurant. Driving to the restaurant, he noticed a police cruiser behind him. Checking his speed, he was just under the limit of 30 mph. He slowed as he approached a stop sign, almost coming to a complete stop and then turning right. Lights flashed from the cruiser.

“Seriously” Greg thought and pulled over, with the cruiser doing the same ten yards behind him.

Sheriff Barnes got out and approached Greg's driver's side door. Greg lowered his window. They were alone on the street.

“Was I speeding, Sherriff?”

“License and registration,” Barnes barked.

Greg handed the documents to him. “It’s not like we don’t know each other Sherriff. Why so formal.”

Sheriff Barnes did not respond; instead, he took out his citation book and said, “You ran that stop sign back there.”

“I was going like a mile an hour, Sherriff, and we are on a road that almost never has traffic. I did not put anyone in danger.”

Sherriff Barnes ignored him. He was usually cold when interacting with Greg, treating him like an insect he wanted to crush underfoot. This was no different. He handed the ticket to Greg.

“You can pay it at the courthouse this afternoon,” Barnes said and turned away. He got back into the police cruiser and drove away, while Greg sat fuming in his car.

“What a colossal prick,” Greg said out loud

Greg drove to the store and deposited the supplies. He usually worked until closing at ten, then cleaned up to leave by twelve. He never got much sleep. His anger at the futility of arguing with the Sherriff would no doubt keep him awake tonight. He looked at the time. 3:30 PM. He could still make it to the courthouse by 5PM. The courthouse was only a block away from the store. Needing to calm down, he made himself a cup of tea, sipping slowly, letting its heat and flavor relax him.

Greg looked at his watch. 4PM. He got up, cleaned his cup, and then left the store, quickly getting to the courthouse in five minutes. Inside, he went to the office where fines were paid. Not much else happened in that office, so he was surprised to see Sherriff Barnes and Deputy Bannon. Judge Adams sat behind a large desk at least six feet long and wide. He watched several people paying fines, cash only, per instructions on a sign on the wall behind the judge. He did not see any receipts being given back to the guilty.

“That’s odd, “Greg thought. “They may as well be putting it straight into the judge's pocket. He looked at the faces of Branes and Bannon. Sherriff Barnes sat with a bored expression, whereas Deputy Bannon watched with obvious displeasure at the proceeding. It was Wednesday afternoon, payday for fines, and Judge Adams was raking it in. The town was small, with only five thousand people, swelling to fifteen thousand when the university was in session. The town was Pittman Hollow in Jackson County. Everybody knew everybody else. Secrets were a dime a dozen, and the story went that the life of most secrets was only a week, so if you were going to do something, get it right and only use people you could trust.

It was Greg's turn at the table. Sheriff Branes said, “Greg Gibson, running a stop sign. The fine is seventy dollars, judge.”

Greg had the money in his hand. He reached across the table as far as he could to within a foot of the judge and gently dropped it on the table.

“Mind your manners, kid, don’t just throw the money at the judge, that is seriously disrespectful,” said Sherriff Barnes.

“I did not throw the money; I reached as far as I could and laid it down,” Greg said, thinking this was suddenly Crazytown.

‘Don’t SmartMouth me, boy,” said Barnes. “Get out now; go on before the judge holds you in contempt.”

Greg left before anything else happened. Before leaving the courthouse door, Deputy Bannon called, “Greg, come by the station tomorrow and talk, OK?” Greg nodded and left.

The next day, Greg watched the police station from the store windows. He saw Sherriff Barnes leaving in his personal car. He resolved to see Deputy Bannon after classes today.

Concentration betrayed him. His mind kept going back to the previous day, reviewing every action he had taken. He had been distracted at the stop sign by watching Sherriff Barnes's police car in the rearview mirror. Still, he thought, creeping past a stop sign at less than five miles per hour in an otherwise deserted street did not seem to him to be the act of a criminal. Sherriff Barnes and the judge made it out to be.

Maybe the sheriff had noticed that his daughter always dropped into Greg’s store whenever possible. Sure, he and Veronica had become close friends, and perhaps he had thought more. Still, they had grown up in this town together.

Greg went into the police department. Deputy Bannon’s office was in the right rear section of the building. Greg did not see anybody else; there was no receptionist or dispatcher. He knocked on the partially open door of Deputy Bannon’s office. It was more like a large cubicle with faded blue walls, a small desk, and the most significant piece, a file cabinet. Greg half expected to see janitorial supplies in the corner.

“Hi Greg, c’mon in, have a seat”

Greg did just that, “Where is everybody?”

“I sent them home. If a call comes in, I will take it, so I sent them home for the day. They would probably fall asleep here, things so quiet and all.”

Greg nodded. Not much crime ever happened in the town. He studied the deputy’s face, looking for any sign of why he had asked him to come.

“Pretty dick move by the Sherriff yesterday, wasn’t it. Sometimes, that man makes no sense at all.”

Greg continued to study Bannon closely. “I agree,” he said cautiously.

“Relax, Greg, I am not going to hurt you. “

Greg did feel a bit less anxious. “So, deputy, why am I here?”

“I have noticed that you and Veronica are getting quite close.”

Greg nodded.

“So, the Sheriff is out of town for the next few days, and Veronica has the house all to herself. I thought that you two might find a way to enjoy that.”

Greg was holding his breath, waiting for the punchline, although the subject was no joke.

“How old are you, Greg”

‘Eighteen, sir.”

“Hmm, not quite old enough to buy your own hooch. The same goes for Veronica, then.”

“Yes, sir.” He was 6 months away from 19, the legal drinking age in the state

Deputy Bannon reached into his desk drawer, and his right hand came out holding a bottle of vodka, Smirnoff. Greg might not be old enough to buy it, but he and his friends were no strangers to alcohol. Deputy Bannon reached over the desk and put the bottle into Greg's hand.

“You did not get that from me, understand.”

“Yes, sir”. Greg hefted the weight of the bottle in his hand, then held it up to the light, studying the clearness in the bottle amid the fog of confusion in his brain. It felt like sin, holding that bottle in the police station. He finally asked Bannon, “Why”

Deputy Bannon was silent for a long moment, then answered

“Let’s just say that you are not the only one that the Sheriff is screwing over. I think of this as a small way to balance the scales. You can go, Greg. Enjoy a date with Veronica. Don’t drive if you drink.”

Greg left the police station and returned to the store. No one was in the street to see him, so he went into the store and hid the bottle in the drawer under the cash register.

He saw a note on the counter. “Came by, you weren’t here. Dinner date tonight at my place.” Signed with a large V

Luckily, he had the night off. His mother had hired a young lady to do one night a week. She knew he would not stay and work in the store once he graduated, nor did she want him to. “Make your own life, Greg, and leave this small town behind.”

Years later, Greg would think about that night, the headiness of first love, exploring the things they were meant to explore. The vodka helped loosen them up a bit, but they did not have any more after the first one. They did not need it. The joy of finding each other’s secret pleasures trumped all.

Greg and Veronica kept the secret of that night, and they would always treasure the mystery and the joy of it, and always with a bit of gratitude to Deputy Bannon.