Out of Ft. Worth

“Where I come from,” Norma said, “doing something like that is liable to get you poisoned.”

For a moment, Larry stopped chewing the steak she had made for him. It was rare. The steak and to have a pretty, younger woman interested in him. Norma’s short hair was dyed bright red and her dark eyes were as sharp as razor blades while she stared at him from across the kitchen table.

“Well, honey,” he said, after swallowing. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought it would be funny. And where are you from, anyway?”

Norma stood, left the table, and leaned against the counter in her kitchen. A warm breeze rustled the curtains as she looked out the window at the empty playground, where there was a twisting plastic slide and things to swing on. Larry’s Hummer was parked on the street on the other side of the park and looked terribly out of place in the neighborhood. Finally, she said:

“But I doubt that old lady thought it was funny, Larry.”

He took off his cowboy hat and placed it on his knee. The top of his head was as pink as smoked salmon in the bright light that flooded through the west-facing window that Norma was beside. He wore thick, silver glasses with temples that bent outward around his very thick head. Though not particularly tall, Larry was a very large man.

“The truth of the matter is that my brother is the sheriff here,” he said. “I could have reported that woman to him, but I didn’t. Everyone knows she shouldn’t be here. Speaking basically no English and all. Look, I just thought it was a funny story. Now, I wish I hadn’t brought it up.”

“You said she wanted to go where?” Norma asked, still staring out the window.

“Palestine,” Larry scoffed.

“And you heard about this how?”

Larry took off his glasses and wiped his sweaty forehead. He felt again like a boy in school who’d thought he had the right answer to share with the class. But hadn’t.

“You know, Norma, there is something captivating about you. I’ve never come across a woman in Fort Worth quite as pretty as you are. So unique.”

“Larry,” she said, turning from the window to look squarely at him again. Like a utility knife through drywall. “I asked you a question. How did you hear about where that old lady wanted to go?”

“At church,” he said, sighing. “I overheard some of the do-gooders talking about buying a plane ticket to help her get back to where she is from. In the Middle East.”

“And that’s why she believed you when you said that you’d bought her a ticket to Palestine? That’s why she got on the Greyhound bus with all of her belongings in a big suitcase?”

“I guess so,” Larry said. “Technically I wasn’t lying, by the way. Palestine, Texas is just a couple hours down the road.”

“Six hours,” Norma said. “By bus.”

“I know I got a bit caught up in the moment. With the governor bussing migrants to the liberal states and all. Me and the guys have gotten such a big kick out of that. Thought I’d give that sort of thing a try myself. But, looking back, what I did probably crossed the line. Or came close to it.”

“No, Larry,” Norma said. “It is all very funny. I just wanted to make sure I understood.”

And she laughed abruptly with exotic, curling peals.

Then Norma smiled at Larry and stared at him without a word for about ten seconds. The light from the window backlit her face, darkening it in shadow, so that subtle details that he might have otherwise seen were obscured. She grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass, then walked back over to the table and sat down.

“It sure is nice to have a big, strong man in the house,” she said, gently stroking one of his feet under the table with one of hers.

“Would you like some wine?”

“Sure would,” he said, grinning broadly. “And could you turn on that fan? Hotter than a refinery in here.”

Norma poured the wine and placed the glass in front of him. Then she stood to pull the string to turn off the fan that was above them and while doing so could feel Larry’s groping eyes on her body. When she sat down, Larry drank about half of what was in his glass in one gulp.

“So, Norma, my pretty gal. Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No. It’s Ramadan.”

“Rama-what?”

“It’s not important, Larry. I’ve just decided not to eat right now in order to better myself.”

“Suit yourself. More for me, I guess!”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “More for you.”

“You’re a student, right?” he asked, nodding at the longhorn logo on her t-shirt, between spooning heaping loads of gravy-smothered mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“A graduate student, yes. I study chemistry.”

“Wow,” he said. “I bet that’s hard. But don’t forget that they have an agenda. At universities. Be careful and you’ll probably be just fine.”

“Oh,” Norma said. “I’m a very careful person. I think everything through beforehand. What about you, Larry. What do you do?”

“Businessman,” he said, unbuckling his belt, which had an American flag on the buckle. “Oil leases, mostly.”

Norma nodded her head as if that made sense, and looked at her watch. She could see that Larry’s sweat rings had expanded so that they now extended about six inches from each armpit. She asked:

“Would you like to join me on the couch?”

“You bet!”

She stood and took Larry’s plate over to the sink. He wiped off the grease from his lips with the tablecloth, struggled to buckle his belt, and put his hat back on. Then he arose, but immediately plopped back down in his chair.

“Whoa,” he said. “Is this room spinning. Or is it just me?”

“I’m afraid that the room isn’t spinning, Larry. Are you feeling OK?”

“I’m fine, Norma. Just fine.”

Larry rubbed his face and then slowly stood.

“On second thought,” he said, slurring his words slightly. “And I hate to say this. I hate it. But I think I’m going to need to get going.”

“Oh, no!” Norma said. “What a shame. Hopefully you’ll come back soon.”

“I will,” he said, putting a hand on the bar for support, as he slowly headed for the door.

Larry’s boots were already on, so he just needed to open the door to leave. Before he could open the door, though, Norma said:

“You be careful, Larry. A burly man like yourself. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if you were to have a heart attack.”

“Yes,” he said, opening the door. “The old engine is a-laborin’. But it ain’t nothin’ I haven’t beat before.”

Larry took a step outside, onto Norma’s cement porch, while she stood behind him in the doorway. Several beads of sweat dripped off his nose and he took a wobbling step toward her, lips puckered. Just before he could make it to her face, however, Norma hissed one word like a Diamondback rattles:

“Gaza.”

“What?” Larry asked as he took a quick, instinctive step back. Then he bent slightly and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Norma smiled wolfishly and said:

“Gaza is where I’m from. You asked me earlier.”

“Oh, I see,” Larry managed to say, his eyes frantic and wide as he turned away from Norma.

He stood as straight as he could and took a very deep breath, then winced. Holding his stomach, he walked across Norma’s little front yard. He crossed the street and then began to stagger as he tried to cut through the playground toward his Hummer.

Norma watched from her doorway as Larry let himself fall backward onto the mouth of the curly slide. For a long while, he sat there like a dazed bird that had hit a window. Finally, he laid back so that the only part of Larry that Norma could see were his massive jeans and cowboy boots.

She looked at her watch again and set an alarm for 15 minutes. Then, Norma walked over to a small, framed picture on the wall. She took the picture off the wall and sat on the couch, where she gazed at the black and white image of her grandmother taken about 60 years before. Norma could see the reflection of her own eyes in the glass. They looked startlingly like her grandmother’s did in the picture.

“You can be whatever you want, kiddo” Norma recalled her grandmother often saying to her. “Just don’t forget where you came from. Because your people there won’t forget you. Or stop fighting for you.”

The BEEP-BEEP-BEEP of the alarm broke Norma’s bittersweet reverie. And then she called the police.