The Writing on the Wall A Novel - By W. D. Wetherell Page 0,62
there all right,” I said. “They like to raid corn fields at night.”
“Yeah? I want to get a postcard of a bear. Maybe you’ll tell me where I can obtain one?”
He was my age in his forties. His nose was the snub kind you see on little girls which was laughable in a face so manly. Wrinkles or scars slanted up from the corners of his eyes like wings or horns more burgundy colored than black. Like I said his jacket was tight on him and where the sleeves shrank back I could see the veins on his arms which throbbed outwards almost to the bursting point and would have been easy to poke an IV into. Don’t ask me why but it was those veins that made me guess.
“You’re army.”
He beamed. “Twenty-three years!”
“You’re a lieutenant. No, a sergeant.”
“Master sergeant!”
“You’re Sergeant Cobb.”
He smiled even broader. “So he talks about me!”
Already the trap.
“He writes about you in his letters.”
“A fine soldier! Makes us all proud!”
“You came all the way up here to tell me that?”
I thought it was smart to call his bluff right away but he ignored me and waved his arm toward the hills.
“He’s always explicating how great it is up here, raving on about how pretty the beaches are and how the girls are so elegant and about the bars and restaurants and clubs. Makes it sound like paradise on earth so I always wanted to peruse it for myself. Yes, ma’am. His eyes would light up just telling me about it all. And now I can see why.”
Beaches? Blondes? Nightclubs? He might as well have added on roulette wheels and roller coasters. And the funny thing is Cobb looked around like that’s exactly what he saw.
“A fine soldier, always volunteering, always ready with a quip. Out on a route march we came to a river and I required someone to swim to the other side. You think any of those other effeminate no-account spoiled mamma boys would volunteer? Chop chop your boy’s hand shoots right up. ‘Master Sergeant Cobb,’ he says like a real man. ‘I know the river is full of evil cottonmouths and water snakes and crocodiles and leeches and my chances of getting unscathed to the other side are approximately zero but if it’s for the good of the unit I’ll gladly give it my all.’”
I looked him right in the eye. “Sounds like Andy all right.”
“You know that song by King Cole they’re always playing on the radio.” He started singing. “Bring out those lazy hazy days of summer! I think old Nat must be thinking about life right here.”
It’s hard to describe his voice because it changed nearly every sentence but imagine a flat Midwestern accent combined with sounding like an Englishman in a war movie adding in a drawl like Amos and Andy or a Baptist preacher. Either he was trying to confuse people with it or he was pretty confused himself.
But right from the start I was storing up things about him I could use to fight back. He considered himself a ladies’ man. He liked to talk a lot with big words thrown in. He enjoyed playing games. I knew when he left off bullshitting he’d be dangerous and the trick was to know when the bullshitting stopped.
“You must be tired after your bus ride, Sergeant Cobb. Luckily, I have some beers in the ice box.”
He switched to Amos and Andy now even rolled his eyes. “Thank you kindly, ma’am!”
I sat him down on the porch while I went inside. I knew Andy was in his hiding place by now so what I mostly worried about was blurting out something that would give him away. The mosquitoes were bad so I lit a citronella candle and brought it back out with me even though it wasn’t yet dark. Cobb wrinkled his nose at the smell and I thought well here’s one more bug I have to get rid of but all he did was sit back on the rocker and put his feet up on the rail.
“Bottle okay?” I handed him two.
“You dwell alone here?” he asked tilting one back. “No husband around?”
“No husband around.”
“No gentleman friend? Must get lonesome at night. Big place for a lady on her own. Does it get lonesome?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
He smiled like I was doing better now and he was really enjoying our little duel.
“So, how is Andy?” I said.
“Andy?” He looked puzzled like the name was new to him.