The Heart is a Lonely Hunter Read online

  When Mrs. Shipp’s transmission decided that it would only go in reverse it was Peter and his uncle who arranged the loaner. Two weeks later, her transmission still not fixed, Peter sold her the car at their cost. All was well, until

  Peter now unsure of whether he should return to Morehouse or continue selling cars brought his dilemma to Mr. Shipp during one of their Saturday afternoon fishing excursions.

  Both men had come to appreciate these outings. Content to sit on the muddy banks of No-Name Creek both men had come to the point where they enjoyed these outings more than either would admit. Neither was much of an angler although no one could tell Mr. Shipp that. He had every piece of fishing equipment one man could possibly own. And because of that, he often felt the added pressure to bring something home to account for his extravagant spending and long forays into the backwoods of North Carolina’s Piedmont that often netted nothing but excuse after excuse and another reason to buy another piece of equipment that would end his fishing woes. But since Peter had become his fishing partner there was no need for excuses or to stop by Sam’s and pick up a couple of catfish to bring home to Mrs. Shipp who planned her Saturday fish fries around her husband’s catch.

  Now that Peter was here, fishing was just a means of getting out of earshot of the women who bugged him with their constant idle chatter. Here out in the open air, men could talk in peace about the real goings on in the world. It was the good life. A couple of sandwiches and a twelve pack and right there next to No-Name Creek real men like Shipp and Townsend could solve the puzzle of the Middle-East, end starvation and other epidemics which plagued the world. Yet Horace Shipp, long accustomed to these unofficial cabinet meetings between him and his future son-in-law never expected the conversation that Peter Townsend was about to spring on him that particularly Saturday afternoon.

  “Mr. Shipp, I’ve got something on my mind that’s been kinda bothering me. Well, actually, it’s not bothering me but it does present sort of a dilemma for me.” As always, the young man chose his words slowly and precisely always making sure that what he said is what he meant.

  “Mr. Shipp, I’m sure that by this time you’re aware of how I feel about your daughter. If you’re not then I gotta tell you that I am absolutely crazy about her. Sometimes it frightens me. Before I met her I had everything planned down to the millisecond. When my grant fell through last fall, I figured it to be just a minor setback, a temporary situation. Figured I’d be back in school by January, finish up my thesis and graduate in May. You follow me, sir?”

  “Sure, son, but your calendar seems to be a little off considerin’ that May is practically here and you have yet to go back. I’m sure you’re aware of the fact

  that the longer you put it off, the harder it is to go back,” Mr. Shipp observed, thoughtfully.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, sir. Ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, I’ve wanted to be an engineer, I’ve wanted to construct things It’s kinda been my passion, my dream. It’s been the driving force behind everything thing I do—everything I’ve ever done. Then along came this woman, out of the clear blue, and I gotta confess, sir, I can’t tell which way is up anymore.” The young man dropped his head, embarrassed by his own weakness.

  Mr. Shipp cast the line out with the deftness of a seasoned angler. The two had been sitting on the muddy bank for close to two hours without so much as a nibble. He yanked the line back gently as it hit the water, then watched the tide carry the line and bait downstream. The tiny bob dipped under the crest of the wave as something tugged hard at the line.

  “What the hell?” Giving the line a sharp tug, Mr. Shipp felt the fish grab the bait and the hook grab him. Smiling, he gave whatever it was on the other end of his line a little leeway and then another sharp tug, pulling the rod over his right shoulder just like he practiced out in the driveway. ‘There, got him’, he said to himself. Whatever it was was making a pretty fair go of it now.

  “You got something there, sir,” Peter yelled. “Gotta be a four or five pounder the way he’s got that line stretched out.”

  “Get the net, Pete. Yes sir, looks like a fighter there. Pretty nice size one too, judgin’ from the fight he’s puttin’ up,” Mr. Shipp said.

  The older man was doing his best to remain cool but soon found himself slipping; then sliding down the muddy incline to the water’s edge. Yet, he refused to let go of the rod. The fish seemed to know that the old man had lost his footing and was off balance. Just as he was about to brace himself against the remainder of a hollow tree stump near the water’s edge that fish jumped a good three feet straight up out of the creek and with every muscle and ounce of strength he had, dove straight back down into No-Name Creek, pulling Mr. Shipp and young Peter Townsend right on in, along with him. Peter had done his able-bodied best to grab the older man. No sooner had he arrived, net in one hand, trying to hold onto Mr. Shipp’s yellow rain slicker than that monster of a fish hit the water like a torpedo from a German sub, pulling both of them in head first with him.

  Both men climbed out of the creek drenched. Mud covered the pair from head to toe. Looking at each other, all they could do was lean back on the bank and laugh. Mr. Shipp held on to his pole throughout the whole ridiculous affair. But there was no longer a fish on the end of the line. At this point, there was nothing but memories. Alas, both men, muddy beyond belief, agreed that that was enough fishing for one day.

  Sitting in Peter’s Ford F-l50, the older man had to ask: “Pete, my boy, did you happen to get a look at the size of that joker?”

  “Biggest large-mouth bass, I’ve ever seen in these parts,” Peter answered. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Do you want a beer? I believe there’s two left. Yes sir, Mr. Shipp if you coulda reeled that one in, you could have probably had him mounted. Could’ve had something to tell your grandkids about. Hell, he had to have been close to eight-and-a-half—maybe even nine pounds. Boy was she a beaut!” the young man added. “Speaking of beauty, Mr. Shipp, I was trying to get your opinion on a rather perplexing problem that’s arisen before you decided to take me swimming,” the young man smiled, broadly, thinking of how he and Mr. Shipp were pulled into the creek. He was serious though the smile doing little to mask just how serious he was.

  “Like I was telling you, I’m in love with your daughter, sir. I’ve already postponed going back to school once and the summer semester’s right around the corner but I just hate to leave her. My uncle says I can continue working with him at the dealership. Hell, not to brag, but I’m outselling his top salesmen, guys that have been there fifteen and twenty years. There’s a pretty good future there. I could probably have my own dealership in about ten or twelve years and you can’t beat the money.”

  “Who are you tryin’ to convince, Peter, me or yourself? Look, Sill’s my only daughter and you are like a son to me. There is not a doubt in my mind that you love her and have nothin’ but the best of intentions for her. Of this, I am sure. But you just met Sylvia. You’ve had the dream of becomin’ an engineer your whole life. Don’t let Sylvia or any woman defer your dream. If you do, you will always hold some animosity towards her. You will always wonder what you could have been, what life may have held if you had just followed your dream. I believe you can do pretty much whatever it is that you set your mind to, Peter, but the truth is that ten or twelve years from now you won’t want to sell cars when you know you should be designin’ them. C’mon, think about it.”

  Peter frowned and reflected for a moment before continuing “You’re probably right, sir, but you know, someone like Sylvia doesn’t just come along every day. The Sylvias of the world are once in a lifetime.”

  “That may be true, son, but neither do young Black engineers named Peter Townsend. Go ahead and get your degree, son. Trust me. If what you and Sylvia have is meant to be, then it will be,” the old man regretted the words as soon as he said them but knew them to be true. “Now, when will you headin’ back to school?
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  Peter sighed, “Guess I’ll be leaving in about two weeks. I gotta give my uncle at least two weeks notice so he can hire someone and train them. Actually, it’s gonna take me at least two weeks just to get up the courage to break the news to Sill.”

  “Don’t you worry about Sill, Petey boy. You’re not goin’ to find a woman much more resilient than Sill. I don’t know how close you two are or if she’s told you but she’s been through hell and back and still kickin’ up a storm in the face of adversity. No, I don’t think I’d worry about Sill too much.”

  As the F-150 turned into the Shipps’ driveway, the two women emerged from the backdoor, the screen door slamming shut behind them. “What in the world happened to you two?” Mrs. Shipp asked looking at the mud-covered fishermen.

  Sylvia was doubled over in laughter. Tears ran down both sides of her face. Never had she seen a funnier sight than her two favorite men covered up to their ears in mud. When she finally stopped crying, she grabbed the bucket of ice they usually carried their haul in. Digging through the ice, Sylvia dropped the bucket in the driveway and held up a fish no bigger than her thumb. “Please, please tell me this isn’t all you two caught. Hey, mommy, it looks like Captain D’s tonight or sardines.” Sill was on her knees now. It was even worse when Peter retold the story over dinner. Sylvia had to leave the table and every time she would gaze at one of the men, she would burst out in fits of laughter. “God, how I wish I could have been there to see Peter trying to save you, daddy,” she said, still grinning.

  Peter met Sylvia later that evening after going home and showering. No one seemed to be in the mood for fish after the long trying day, so they settled on pizza from Amore’s. After dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Shipp retired to the living room to watch reruns of the Fresh Prince and Cosby while the lovebirds found their way to the swing on the front porch.

  “Sylvia, sweetheart, we need to talk,” Peter said at last.

  “We need to talk or you need to talk?” she asked.

  “We need to talk, Sylvia. You know I have a semester left to finish my Masters and get my degree and I think I’ve put it off long enough. I’ve finished writing my thesis and now it’s only a matter of me knocking out a couple of classes but I need to do it. The longer I put it off the harder it is to go back especially working with my uncle. Damn, the money’s good. You know it will

  probably take me five or six years to make the money I’m making now. Anyway, I’d like for you to wait for me.” There, it was out now. He’d said it.

  “Wait for you? Peter you don’t want to come back to this little one-horse town anymore than I want to. Elizabethtown has to be the armpit of the world. You didn’t grow up here and I know you don’t want to come back. I grew up here and certainly have no intentions of coming back so when you do get your Master’s you’ll be looking for a large cosmopolitan area where you’ll be adequately compensated. Whereas I’m just looking for any place other than Eliza-bethtown where I can teach youngsters and, hopefully, make a difference in shaping their lives.

  We’ve spent some beautiful months together, Peter, and you don’t know how much you’ve meant to me but it’s time for you to stop thinking about us and to start thinking about yourself and your future. How long have you wanted to be an engineer?”

  Deeply disappointed, Peter dropped his head. She was sure he was crying. She wanted to herself, but knew she had to be strong for both of them. Still, Sill hoped that he would argue in his defense of their love, challenge their being apart, but instead, he agreed though reluctantly.

  Two weeks later, Peter Townsend was no more than a memory. And Elizabe-thtown was even less than it had been before. For Sylvia, the pain she felt on that dark and rainy night outside Tech’s Student Union building was back again. She wasn’t really sure she loved Peter Townsend. She wasn’t sure she had loved or could ever love any man again. However, one thing was for sure, she missed Peter. And, despite all the hullabaloo surrounding her good looks and charm and her being the most likely to succeed, she with all of these enviable attributes could not keep a man. She was like those colored girls in the play ‘who considered suicide when the rainbow wasn’t enough’. No matter what she did or didn’t do, she just couldn’t seem to keep a man.

  CHAPTER 4

  Once she was positive that Peter was returning to Morehouse there was really no reason to see him. She refused to answer his phone calls and refused to see him when he stopped by during the week prior to his leaving. Sylvia saw no reason to prolong the inevitable. But when he left she couldn’t believe how absolutely dreadful she felt. She wanted to scream, and then thought of her parents and how much they’d been through already and felt muzzled. More than once, she considered taking the pills her doctor prescribed for depression but knew that there were not enough pills to cure what ailed her. Like so many sistas, she guessed she was destined to be unhappy and man less.

  She continued working at Penney’s and even took a few on-line classes to pass the time. And by September of the following year, she had received her Bachelor’s in Education. Having been to Atlanta with the family on vacation, she fell in love with the city and immediately began sending resumes to the Fulton County Board of Education, seeking an elementary teaching position. Her dad teased her about trying to get closer to Peter but she was adamant in her denial. In the months, since Peter left her she’d come to the conclusion that all men were basically dogs and Peter Townsend was no better than the rest.

  In fact, if anyone missed him it was daddy. No more fishing buddy, no more rolling in the mud, no one to chaperone crazy ass Sill. No one to make sure that she was in good hands and financially stable when he passed on.

  Shit, come to think of it she hadn’t heard from him since he’d been back at Morehouse. The only news she got was from Peter’s uncle when she went in to have her oil changed or a tune-up. When Peter first left, she had the best kept car in Elizabethtown. Her own father made the comment at dinner one night soon after Peter’s departure that, ‘Sill was at the Ford dealership more than most of the mechanics.’

  Yet, Peter never called, never wrote, and never even inquired from his uncle as to how she was doing. Sure, she had been childish when she heard about his leaving but if he loved her, truly loved her, he would have persisted. After all, wasn’t it he the one that was constantly telling her that, ‘Persistence overcomes resistance.’ But there had been little or no persistence on his part. She was angry at herself for falling for him in the first place, for once again letting someone get close enough to cause her pain. She was angry that he hadn’t cared enough to continually pursue her. She was angry because, although she did not love him, she could not see him rejecting her. She was angry because to him she did not matter that much. And she was angry because no matter how angry she became, she knew deep down inside that daddy was right. She was going to Atlanta not to teach but to be near Peter Townsend.

  On September 3rd, the Shipps drove down to Atlanta to help Sylvia move into her very first apartment. Both had grown accustomed to her being around again and neither was too happy having her move so far from home. Yet, they realized how far she had come in the last few months and knew it was finally time for her to move on. Reverend Scales had prayed for Sill during the benediction at last Sunday’s service and Mrs. Shipp had all she could do to hold it together.

  The last few months since Peter’s departure was particularly hard on Sylvia as well as Mr. Shipp who seldom if ever went fishing anymore. Yet, they all knew that Sylvia had far too much to offer to waste away in Elizabethtown.

  Dr. Reid, who had grown rather fond of his patient, made it a point to stop by the house the day before they were leaving to bring the addresses of some prominent therapists in Atlanta in case Sill needed someone to talk to. He hugged her when he left and Mrs. Shipp swore she saw a tear in the good doctor’s eye. Hugging him, Mrs. Shipp felt compelled to apologize for not trusting his judgment more and then they all began crying in earnest. That is, except for Mr. Shipp, who saw the w
hole damn scene as one big charade. He had been out of sorts ever since Peter left and now that Sylvia was about to leave, he was downright cantankerous.

  “Why the hell we got to go out there and get a U-Haul and spend money we don’t have is beyond me,” he said. “Hell, it ain’t but a six hour drive down there. I could use the pickup and make a couple of trips down there while you ladies get the house in order. Don’t make a lick a sense to spend a hundred and

  fifty dollars for that raggedy-assed, U-Haul and we got a truck sittin’ right here in the yard. Don’t make no sense at all.”

  Mrs. Shipp was not much better. “You’re absolutely right, Horace. Didn’t make a bit of sense to buy that damn pickup in the first place. What the hell you plan on haulin’. Here you are damn near sixty years old and you actin’ like you done caught your second wind. What? You plannin’ on startin’ to haul coal or is it logs? No, wait! You fashion yourself as Fred Sanford and I guess I’m spozed to be Lamont. Do you know what your father told me when he bought this truck, Sill?”

  Sill tried not to frown. She hated getting caught in the middle but knew her leaving had as much to do with the arguments as anything else.

  “He told me that that thing out there in the yard would pay for itself. That’s what he told me. And I swear, I’ve been watchin’ it everyday and I ain’t seen it get up and go to work yet,” Mrs. Shipp stated matter-of-factly while Sill feigned a smile in amusement.

  Despite his protests, Mr. Shipp drove the twenty-foot U-Haul down the highway with Sill and Mrs. Shipp taking turns riding with him. After what seemed like forever and a day, they finally found the Lake Spring Apartment complex Sill was to move into. She had been here only a week before to get a firsthand look, pay the security deposit, first month’s rent and pick up the key but it was evening now and Atlanta appeared so different. Everyone seemed more relaxed, everyone, that is, but Sylvia who was positively ecstatic.