Curtis, part seven

Leta had married Curtis on Friday afternoon. As they planned, she quit her job three days earlier and subsequently made all the arrangements. Curtis owned a chicken farm, and finished his work by noon. Then he picked her up at her boarding house in East Toledo where she had been living. She had packed her three suitcases, which they loaded into the trunk of the car, and then drove to the Wood County courthouse.

By six that evening, they were celebrating their nuptials at the Stony Ride Inn in Millbury, Leta’s hometown. They enjoyed a nice dinner in the restaurant and then moved to the bar, where they sat at a corner table and sipped complimentary beer (him) and bourbon (her) long into the night. Leta suggested champagne—and one of the other bar patrons even agreed to purchase one for them—but Curtis refused, claiming that the sparkling wine disturbed his digestion.

Curtis was never much of a talker, unlike most of her previous husbands, but on this evening, he was full of compliments, as if he was marveling at his good fortunate.

“Today is a great day for me,” he said. “Now that I’m married to you, Mrs. Curtis, my life can only get better. With you I’m now a complete man. We are going to have a good life together.”

He repeated these sentiments and others like them continually throughout the evening.  Leta would blush and smile.

It was long after ten when she noticed the woman sitting at the bar. The establishment was fairly packed with people by then. With each new customer the atmosphere grew in boisterousness. Curtis was chatting with a fellow at the table beside theirs about the Farmer’s Almanac weather predictions for the summer. Leta had been absentmindedly paying attention, more interested in the cadence of the men’s voices than what they were actually saying. The woman’s loud, high pitch squeal captured her attention, and through the haze, Leta’s eyes located her. She was dressed in a satin dress with ruffles on the cuffs. Although it was dark in the bar, Leta figured the dress was a deep navy, with some other blue highlights. The bodice was pulled snugly across the woman’s torso, and a low neckline was decorated with sequins and beads that occasionally reflected the light. Leta doubted if any of the men noticed the beads, as the woman’s ample bosom was on flagrant display.

Leta knew that it didn’t much matter what a woman in a place like this wore or even what she looked like; it was how she behaved that drew the men to her. This woman was holding a cigarette that she occasionally put to her lips. She batted her overly made-up eyes and smiled broadly, several times throwing her head back. She was at the bar, leaning into two men that held beer bottles in their hands, rough-looking men, farmers Leta presumed. Before the night was over, the woman would leave with one of them, or perhaps another fellow that was sitting at the other end of the bar, also watching the woman.

He turned a moment and met Leta’s eyes. She blushed and turned away immediately, but then instinctively nodded toward Curtis. She wanted it to be very clear that she was with her husband, and unlike the bar fly, uninterested in securing a fellow for the evening. She already had one.

Leta turned her attention back to Curtis. He was now talking with another fellow about the escalating price of grain.  As if he sensed Leta’s sudden attention, Curtis stretched out his arm to draw her into the conversation.

“This is my new bride,” he said to the fellow. “We were just married today.”

“Congratulations,” the pleasantly plump fellow said and smiled. Leta smiled back.

“Thank y—“

“—Yep, I’m going to have a great life with Leta here beside me,” Curtis interrupted.

The gentleman smiled and pointed to her empty glass.

“How about I get you both a refill?” he suggested. “A little wedding present for the newlyweds?”

“Thank y—“ Leta started, but again Curtis interrupted.

“—That’s very neighborly of you, neighbor,” Curtis said. “I’m drinking beer, as you can see, and the misses has whiskey.”

“Bourbon,” Leta corrected, “with a little ice.”

“Be right back, lovebirds,” the gentleman smiled and left to retrieve their drinks.

Curtis relaxed his arm and turned to Leta momentarily.

“Did you see that floozy at the bar?” he inquired.

To be continued.