dmseay

He killed a man. Shot him in the back of the neck. Lit his room on fire to hide evidence. All that was left were ashes. Gray and black ashes with smoke coming from them. They used dental records for identification. Bones were placed in bags.

They said he owed money to a lot of people. Always borrowing. Never paying back. Had several folks angry with him. Men, women, kin folk, lovers, landlords, all of them wanted their pay. They were going to get it one way or another. Penalties applied.

The young man moved around a lot. Always leaving people behind. Taking off in the middle of the night. Hoping no one would catch him. Years went by. Never a trace of him. He was like a ghost; invisible to the naked eye. The kid had escaped all his debtors. All except one.

He found him in Ohio. A small town off 30. Found him in a rented room above a bar on Main Street. The young man passed out there every afternoon. Never came out till sunrise. That’s when he found him. In his bed. He didn’t even knock. Just came right in.

You got my money? he asked. Five grand? the young man shook his head. He asked him again. Do you have my money? The young man nodded this time. Pulled out the drawer of his nightstand and grabbed his pistol. Pointed it at the man. Said he meant business. Shot him when he turned around. Twice in the neck. Lit a match and left town. They ain’t found him yet.

Just wait here, he said. Don’t move. Or, make a sound. Sit quietly. Silently. Don’t let your feet make any noises. If you think you’re going to cough then cover your mouth, he told him. They’re out there waiting for us to make a mistake. One wrong move could mean the end of this. This thing we have. Here, he grabbed a blanket. Cover yourself with this. Go-on. Do it, sirens could be heard out in the streets.

They coming for us? the boy said.

The man just put his finger to his mouth and whispered, Not a word. Shhhh. I’ll be back soon, he said. We need things. We’re running low. You like bologna, the kid nodded his head. Want some Mountain Dew? again the kid nodded. The sirens were getting closer. Just wait here. Don’t move. If you hear anybody come in, don’t make a sound. They’ll leave soon enough. I’ll be back real quick, the man said before he crawled out of the hole in the basement leading him outside where he ran like a deer being chased.

Sirens were turned off. Just red and blue lights swirled around on top of police cars. The boy could hear voices and the front door open. It creaked. Flashlights shined through cracks in the hardwood floors.

Anybody here, a cop said. Come out if you are, the boy held onto the blanket a little tighter. You take the upstairs and I’ll take the downstairs, the cop told his partner. We’re not gonna hurt you, he said. We want to help you. Get you out of here, the boy held his breath. The basement door was opened.

Man walked through the gas station placing items in his pockets. Mountain Dew, Beef jerkey, they didn’t have any bologna. He grabbed some bread and made a bee-line to the front door. The kid behind the counter told him to stop. Yelled he’d call the cops. The man just kept running till he was out of sight. Down back streets and alleys. Places where there were no street lights. He stopped to light a cigarette.

Lights were criss-crossing each other in the basement. The cops saw a lump under a blanket in the corner. Again, the boy held his breath. A police officer walked over to the bawled up blanket and kicked it. The boy let out a noise. Quickly the cop took the blanket off the boy. They looked at each other.

I’m not gonna hurt you, the cop said. Come with me, he extended his hand. Where’s your dad? he asked. The boy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Come on now. Let’s get you home to your mom.

The man saw his son being taken away from him. Took a swig of Mountain Dew. Said, I told him to be quiet. I told him. He never saw his son again.

He showed her a trick. Nothing up his sleeves. Said magic words. Then presto; a quarter was pulled from behind the child’s ear. The old man gave the shiny piece to the little girl. She showed the coin to her mother who sat there on the park bench beside her. Thank you, she said to the stranger. Thanks, but, no thanks, told her daughter to give the quarter back to the old man and go play on the swingset. The kid frowned. Go on, give it back to him, mom said. He stuck out his hand and she placed the quarter in his palm. Told him thanks anyway, and went off to swing high in the autumn sky.

I didn’t mean any harm, the old man said to the mother. I guess sometimes I get carried away. I’m very sorry, the mother moved down the bench a foot or two.

You shouldn’t do that, she said. Teach children magic. That things come easy in life, she lit a cigarette. Now she’s gonna want a quarter from me all the time. I ain’t got that much money to be giving her quarters mister, she took a long drag.

I’m very sorry, he put the coin in his pocket. I see you two out here every afternoon, he said. I guess I felt it was OK. I guessed wrong, he smiled.

You sure did. It’s creepy, she said. Magic tricks with little girls. It’s not right. How do I know you ain’t got no record. You some kind of child molester.

Oh I’m not that. Not anything really. Just an old man sitting on a park bench. Looking at leaves. Watching children play. Thinking of my younger days.

That’s your problem right there, she said. You looking backwards instead of forwards. I guess that’s what you do when you get old, she moved even further away on the bench. Stood up and crushed out her cigarette. Well, stay away from my daughter. You hear? the old man nodded. She began walking away; mumbling, Ain’t no such thing as magic anyway.

They were talking about sin. We’re all sinners, the old man said. Every last one of us, he turned the sound down on the television. The Andy Griffith Show was on. Andy was telling his son that sometimes you gotta stick up for yourself. They both continued watching with the sound down.

I’ve made mistakes. I’ve sinned, said the old man. All too many times. Of course, that’s between me and God. I don’t care about what those crazy Catholics say. About confession to a priest and all that. It gets down to your relationship with Jesus. He paid the price so we don’t have to, he said.

Jesus knows all your sins? boy asked. He knows what you’ve done?

Let’s not get into that boy.

Momma didn’t know, but, the Lord did. Right?

I’m not gonna talk about it, he grabbed a beer from the ice box.

She didn’t know about your galavanting around town? Told her you were at work. Doing something on the third shift. Making over time.

That’s long over boy. Why bring that up? It was in her best interest. It would’ve hurt her too bad. Now. That’s all I gonna say on this topic, he turned the sound back up.

I followed you one night. Saw you leave the bar and walk down Main Street. Then you turned up State. Went into a house with a red light on over the porch. Big sign in the front yard that said Doll House. Waited across the street in Kroger’s parking lot.

That’s enough.

The place was a whore house dad. Saw you go in and an hour later I saw you come out. You walked back to the bar. And, the whole time I was following you, I was crying. Felt like someone punched me in the stomach.

I don’t have to talk about this. I knew you were following me. I felt it. And I prayed for forgiveness. That’s all I had to do. Didn’t owe you any explanation. People make mistakes. Are you perfect?

No. I am not. But, I would never cheat on my wife if I was married. Standards dad. This is about standards. Character. What makes you a man.

How ‘come you never brought this up before?

Tried to forget about it.

And, you never told mom.

No sir. I did not. Same reason as you. I knew it’d break her heart.

That was smart of you, the old man lit a cigarette.

The two sat there watching another episode of Andy Griffith. The old man turned the sound up. Crickets could be heard outside. Boy went to the front door and looked at the moon. The old man just sat there in his chair with his eyes opening and closing. No one sleeps with a clear mind.

There was a shooting star last night. Some would call it a falling star. A million miles away. Shiny thing up in the sky. Moving. We watched till it diminished into nothing. Maybe it burned out. Perhaps it landed over in a field in Nebraska. Maybe China. I held her hand as it moved across the sky. A yellow moon shined down on us. I knew it’d be the last time.

The river glistened in the early morning light. I woke up on the banks of the Ohio. A bottle of wine was knocked over on it’s side in the tall grass. Two glasses. We drank wine in glasses. We had some class about us. A Mexican blanket covered us both; colors of aqua, blue, orange and yellow. I tried to wake her. I tried. She laid there with spit coming from her mouth. Forehead was cold.

I checked her pulse. Nothing there. Tried to listen to a heart beat. There was no rhythm. Her eyes looked up at God. I closed them. Green eyes never to see again. A needle stuck in her arm.

There was a shooting star last night. Some would call it a falling star. She was now a million miles away.

How long you been here? In this place. This. This place, the two men looked at each other. It’s not good. In fact it’s frightening. Both of us here. Maybe forever. Do you believe in eternity? they looked at each other again. Count to ten and close your eyes. When you open them you’ll still be here. We’ll still be here. Did you see a door? he shook his head. No? Nor did I. Have you ever seen such white? Not a cream colored. Just white. Muy blanco, they both laughed. There’s no food. Where can I find food? the one man looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. How long have you gone without it?

I forgot, he said. It’s been so long. You forget about things like food, comfort, the blanket your grandmother made for you. You forget all that.

I suppose so.

Yes. I had a dream last night about food as a matter of fact. A juicy steak. Porterhouse. With the bone in it. I ate every bit of it.

I thought you said you forget all that.

You still dream.

Right.

You just don’t talk about those things. I wouldn’t be talking about it, but, you asked. I don’t long for anything. It was just a dream.

Dreams mean something, he said. It is a wanting. A pure wanting. A desire. You don’t miss anything?

No. I don’t. This is my fate. Our destiny. You’ll accept that. Soon. And one day will be like all the rest. All the same. That’s what you get. That’s what you get. A lifetime of hard work and now this. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough.

What did you do?

Little bit of everything. I moved from job to job. Town to town. Then I wound up here. This place.

I was a….

I don’t want to know what you were. I know what you are now. Here with me. That tells me a lot.

Haven’t the least bit of interest in…

No. I really don’t.

So. We’re stuck here.

Yes.

In this place.

Yes.

There was silence between the two men. Neither spoke again. An eternity in silence. In a white room. Sins being atoned for. In this place.

There’s noise. It’s coming from down the street. Hedge trimmers and lawnmowers. Awakened by hedge trimmers and lawnmowers. Early morning and he was already sweating. No air-conditioner. Windows opened and a warm breeze blows into the rented room. Sheets are soaked. Pillow has salt marks on it. The old man takes a drink of warm beer in a can beside his bed. Vommit is in the trash can.

That noise, he said to the woman beside him. Why must they make that noise? the whore laughed.

I remember when I was a kid in the suburbs. Saturdays those same noises would wake me up. It’s nice, she said. Feels like home.

Autumn will be here soon, the old man scratched his groin. Leaf blowers. Mexicans running leaf blowers, he took another drink of beer. Want some? she shook her head.

How can you drink this early in the morning?

How can I not? he got up and ran water from the faucet in his room. Splashed himself. Used a dirty tee-shirt for a towel. The world is a shit hole, he said. I face it better when I’m drunk. A constant drunk. Never ending, he grinned and then poured water into a small coffee maker. Don’t worry, he said. Salvation is on it’s way, he jumped back into bed and held the woman by the hips from behind. Wrapped his arms ’round her big belly. Started feeling her breasts.

Didn’t you get enough last night? Most guys do it once and then fall asleep.

Not me. No not me, he said. I always have a hard-on. Even in my sleep. It’s always there. It’s like a statue, she laughed.

I wouldn’t go that far, he kissed the back of her neck. You’re the only guy I don’t charge. Does that make us lovers? he held on tighter.

Yes. Yes it does.

I was just wondering, they both smiled.

Life is funny, he said. You never know who you’re gonna wind up with. An artist, a business woman, a stay at home mom, some whore.

What am I?

A business woman, he slapped her on the ass and said, Now go make me some money.

The moon followed me last night. Full. Big and bright yellow. Shining down on us all. No one was near. A whole city asleep. Walking down Broadway. Passed closed bars and boarded up buildings. Houses condemned. Cars up on blocks. A neon light glowing ; blinking, green and red. Gas station. An oasis in the night. Vienna sausages were on sale. Dill pickles and Cheez Whiz. A can of Faygo Red soda. Five dollars left. What’s behind door number two?

Saw a man asleep in his car on Jefferson. Bags of belongings in the back seat. A used rubber on the sidewalk. Moon was still following me. I felt blessed by the light. A man approached me. Asked if I had a buck. I gave him the five.

Rabbit ears were adjusted south. The old man kept playing with them. Moving the antennae north and northwest then southwest before sticking to the south. Still couldn’t get a good picture. Blury lines ran across the small black and white TV. Voices were heard over static. He had a hard time making out what the two were talking about. It was Dean Martin talking to John Wayne. Some kind of western movie on the late show. The old man popped open another beer. Boy sat on the couch; laughing.

What’s so funny, the old man said.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Doesn’t seem that way. Something got a hold of you, the father said to the son. Are you laughing at me, or, the TV?

Just laughing. That’s all. Just laughing, the boy said. How old is that television set? he asked, getting up and walking towards the ice box. You only got three beers left, he said. Didn’t you go to the store today? Of course not.

You know. You could’ve gone too. I went last time. A real pain, the old man said. Carrying all those bags on the bus. You never offer to help do you? boy opened his beer beside the old man’s ear. That’s real cute isn’t it? You got beer all over the side of my face. How about a little respect. Would it hurt you to be appreciative?

Appreciative?

Yes. Of all that I’ve given you.

Like what?

A place to stay. To lay your head. Christ didn’t even have that. Wandered around all those years; preaching.

It was three years pop. His ministry was for three years. Then they crucified him.

I know the story, the old man said. I used to tell it to you. You don’t appreciate that either.

What?

The crucifixion. Sacrifice for mankind. You’ve got some kind of twisted mind about it. You’re a non-believer.

It’s a fairytale pop. That whole book is filled with fairytales. Supposed lessons for life, he laughed.

What do you think happens when you die?

You die. They bury you or burn you. Nothing. We go back to being nothing. Just a speck of dust, boy got up to adjust the antennae. What? You think we go to some place with golden streets. Mansions, the old man nodded his head. That’s very American of you dad. You think they have a big shopping mall up there too? they looked at each other for a second or two. Boy went back to playing with the antennae. You want some kind of reward. That’s what you want. For all this misery here on earth, you want some kind of reward.

That’s enough.

It’s true.

I said, that’s enough.

You say you worship Jesus, but, you’re expecting a reward. Totally missing the point. Hell, I’m an atheist and I get that.

Get what?

The whole purpose of Christianity. Pretty easy philosophy. Just believe. Accept Christ as you lord and savior.

You don’t know the first thing about it. Think you’re real smart. I believe, he said. I believe. And, I’ll get my mansion on a street of gold.

The two sat there till morning came. They sat quietly. Didn’t say a word. Just looked at the TV with lines running across it.

He didn’t see her. She was hiding in the closet amongst dresses and shirts. Old shoes piled up. Boxes with Christmas decorations in them.

Come out, come out, where ever you are, the young man said. I know you’re here. You never leave, he lit a cigarette. You think I won’t find you? I always find you, he laughed. I got something for you, he took a package out of a bag. I think you’ll like it, he started walking around the trailer. Noticed there was a pot of coffee turned on. Is this fresh brewed? he asked. Did you make this for us? she started breathing heavy. He could hear her as he walked down the hallway. He sat on the bed facing the closet. Are you done with this? This game you play, took a gulp of coffee. I brought you a present. I’m going to lay it right here on the bed. When you feel like coming out, you come out. Hear me? she sat there in darkness.

An hour passed. He had the TV on. Watching Wild Kingdom. Watching how lions protect their cubs. He heard no movement in the back room. Turned the sound down. Poured another cup of coffee. Kept looking at the screen. The picture was coming in funny. Colored lines were running through the jungle; static. The young man got up and adjusted the rabit ears. Pointed them north.

Nothing works ’round here, he said. You notice that? How nothing works. It’s a miracle I got a cup of coffee. Would you just come out here? Open up that box on the bed and come out here, he said. There was no noise. Not a sound.

The television picture came back on. Now they were showing monkeys in their natural habitat. They too protected their young. He heard the closet door open. Heard the ruffling of paper.

You like it? he called back to her. I thought of you when I saw it. Was thinking you’d like it, he made his way back to the bedroom. Try it on, he said. Go on. Give it a twirl, the young girl looked at the dress. She began shredding it with her bare hands. Ripping it in two. Yelling and screaming. Uncontrollably crying.

That’s the thanks I get, the father said. You get back in that closet, he said. Come out when you have a different attitude, she crawled on all fours towards the door. No no. You get back in there. Not dealing with this today, he told his daughter.

He picked her up and placed her back in the closet. Shut the door. He could hear her sobbing as he went back to the front room. The television was blurred again.

Doesn’t anything ’round here work?