He'll Have to Go

Hank Johnson was at the Whistle & Thistle biker bar yesterday. He watched some football, but he wasn't interested in any of the teams. He drank some beer, but he wasn't interested in any of the brands. He was interested in that new girl he had met over in Hope's Promise, Ashley something. She was probably just a college girl, but she had given him her number. College girls liked him. All the girls liked Hank. And he liked all the girls. Except for Billie. Ever since they got married...

She'd be home from her shift at the "He Went Gas-A-Way" before long. She hadn't wanted to work New Year's Day. She wanted to go to her folks. Thank God for Raj Misal, the manager at "He Went Gas-A-Way." He said Billie had to work because she was newest. Raj had saved Hank a day of total misery.

It was sort of miserable thinking about that Ashley, though, and how she wouldn't expect anything from him, except romance. Maybe she wasn't a college girl; she was in town for the holidays. Didn't matter. She looked like a college girl. College girls were too young for him. All the better.

He stepped into the old-fashioned phone booth at the back of the W&T. He had watched enough stuff about Tiger Woods to know he didn't want a trail on his cell phone. He dug out the slip of paper with that Ashley's phone number. No last name, just "Ashley." That was a good sign.

Then Jim Reeves came up on the juke box. Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone... Hank had always loved that song. Let's pretend that we're together all alone... It had all the elements a country song needed. I'll tell the man to turn the juke box way down low... And there was something about Reeves' voice... And you can tell your friend there with you he'll have to go...

As Hank listened to Jim Reeves, he looked out into the W&T. There was Ben Bottoms, watching the Big Ass {TM} TV, cheering against some team or another. Ben never cheered for a team, except his alma mater, Beanblossom State. "Seymour" just picked out which team he hated the most and cheered against them. But he was a Sociology professor; you had to expect that sort of thing. In the Episcopalian ladies corner was Ben's long-suffering wife, Kate Bates. She wasn't paying any attention to the football, but she and Ben were together there, in a biker bar that had a silver candlestick corner for when the Episcopalian ladies came in.

Then he listened to the lyrics for the first time, really, listened without that haunting melody. The right melody often hides a song's lyrics, makes you think it's saying something other than what it is.

"That guy is a jerk," he said. "He's not romantic, he's just a jerk."

He wadded up the piece of paper and dropped it on the floor. He stopped in the white tablecloth corner and had a word with Kate Bates. Then he hurried out the door. There was a commercial break, so Prof. Bottoms went over to the corner to tell his wife how his most hated teams were doing.

"What did Hank Johnson want?" he asked.

"Said he wanted to fix something for his wife's supper, to surprise her when she gets home from work. Asked me what would be quick."

"You must have told him right. He sure left in a hurry."

"I gave him a meal plan, and how to fix it, but I know the Groundhog IGA is closing early today, so I told him, right now, he'd have to go."