dmseay

He listened to trains all night. Coming and going. Wondering where they were heading to. Out East or West. Maybe to Canada; Saskatchewan, Vancouver, or Alberta, Montreal.

He dreamt of jumping on board. An empty car just for him. One with no graffiti on it. Get inside and sleep, dream of new land. Waking up in Santa Fe or Seattle. Maybe New York or Baltimore. Perhaps South; Nashville or Dallas. He was itching to go.

When he was young, trains were easy to catch. Jump on them in the middle of the night in towns like Joplin, Carthage, Wichita Falls, or Denver. He remembered getting off in Chicago and finding work. He also thought of New Orleans, where he found the bottle.

Off and on booze. Jumping from job to job, town to town. Women in bars that he gazed at from a distance. Whores in back alleys who he became better acquainted with.

Diner food at three in the morning. Bowls of chili in Oklahoma City. Tamales in Tulsa. Chicken fried steak on the menus throughout Texas. Never having enough.

And he listened to the trains coming and going. While he stayed in one spot and dreamed. Those days were over.

If you sit long enough in silence, you can hear it, he said. Listen. It’s a ghost from the past. Our past. Somebody we let slip through our fingers when we were younger, she nodded. You remember? That one kid long ago in grade school. The one nobody talked to.

Yes, she said. I remember. We used to torment that poor kid. made him cry every day.

His name was Steve, but we called him Bucky ’cause of his front teeth. They stuck out. looked like a cartoon character.

Yeah. Well, he’s haunting us now. I hear him all the time. He’s laughing at us. He’s laughing at all our faults. All the problems in our lives. Divorces, DUIs, our lousy jobs, bad choices we’ve made. He’s having the last word. He has not forgiven us.

No. That kid has not. never will.

He didn’t have to go and kill himself. We were only having fun, lit a cigarette. He used to walk in a strange way, too. Walked like a girl. Talked like a girl, too.

Said they found him in his room hanging from the ceiling. A rope wrapped around his neck. Garbage bag over his face.

That’s a shame.

Yeah. Listen. You hear him?

I don’t have any memory of it, he said. You want me to confess to something that I might or might not have done, he told his wife. All this talk of infidelity. Cheating throughout the years. Chances are, I didn’t, looked her square in the eye. That is. I don’t think I did.

It happened a long time ago, she said. You used to walk across town to see her. I followed you. You weren’t going out for cigarettes or milk, she sighed.

Where was I off to?

You went to this house over on Taylor Street. Porchlight was always on. I remember. It was an orange color with a tint of red to it. Real seductive like. I can’t blame you. It drew you in; she drew you in. She’d be standing in the doorway in a black slip with a bottle of wine, she said. And, I watched from the car. Sat in the front seat, listening to the radio and smoking. Telling myself I had to quit one day.

You never did.

No. I never did.

Never quit me.

No. No, I held on. Hoping it would stop. And it did. Until you found another one. Hmm. And then another one. Always out at night. All those lies.

I don’t know what you are talking about, he told her. And who are you anyway? Who are you to judge me?

I’m your wife. One minute you remember the next you forget. Been that way forever.

Right. I forget things. How long have we been married?

Sixty years.

I see. Why didn’t you leave me? If I did all this cheating.

‘Cause I love you.

I don’t know you.

That’s OK. Think of me as a friend who visits you. Maybe you’ll forget tomorrow. But I won’t.

The old man closed his eyes and fell asleep. She kissed his forehead and left.

What’s the point?

To what?

This deal.

It’s what we do.

We take money from people. Place it in our wallets, our bank accounts. Stuff it under mattresses . We spend it on foolish things. Booze, gifts for our wives, toys for kids. Meals out at restaurants we can’t really afford. So, I ask again. What’s the point?

I don’t know what you’re talking about. We live from day to day. Committing these sins. Why? ‘Cause we need to in order to survive. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be placed in this hell on earth. But this is the predicament we find ourselves in, now isn’t it.

Yes. Yes, it is. I don’t know if I want to be any part of it anymore. This American dream. I’d just as soon take my money and go elsewhere. Another table to gamble at.

Right. Either way, you have to throw the dice. It’s a big craps game. There’s no escape. You might as well stay where the dice are hot. Blow on them if you have to. Wish yourself all the luck you want. Come on, seven. Yeah?

I just don’t know what the point is anymore.

We don’t have time for that. America needs us. We keep this country going. Deals. Always making deals. That’s the point. That’s what this country is about.

Right. and I’m stuck in it. Stuck in the shit. Trying to claw my way out every day.

Take it easy. You think too much. You take it too hard. We have it easy compared to what? Mexico, Guatemala, the Phillipines? Living in some shack with fourteen kids running around, grandmothers, aunts, uncles, suffering in the heat and despair. Pipe down and do your job. And be thankful. For we are truly blessed.

Never loved you. Thought I did, once a long time ago, when we were kids. But that was just a feeling I’d never felt before. A rush to the head. Causing nighttime sweats. Anxiety. After a while, it wore off. Then you were just another woman, he told her.

What do you think about? she asked. What goes through that fool head of yours? she brushed back her hair with long fingers. This is not what you wanted. Is it? I don’t think you know.

Know what?

What you want. One minute, you’re loving me, then the next you’re on some bus heading off somewhere. Santa Fe, Portland, Chicago, anywhere. Calling at all hours of the night.

Sorry.

Gotten used to it. Used to what feels like a broken heart, she reached in her purse and took out $500. The wife took off her ring and handed it all to him in one handful. Take this, she said. Just go.

You think it’s best?

Yes, I do.

Can I get a ride to the pawn shop?

I killed him, he said. I think I killed him, the man said into the payphone.

Well. Which is it? Did you kill him or not? his friend responded. Was he moving? Just lay there still? he poured a shot of whisky into his rocks glass. Poured in a bit of water. What happened? Tell me, he said calmly.

I was in a bar. This guy kept saying the wrong things. He was trying to get my goat, he told him.

Sounds like he did.

He was some stinking Hoosier. Running his mouth about women and money, blood from his hand dripped on the phone. He leaned on the booth.

What’s that got to do with you? Is it your mission to get kicked out of every bar in Chicago?

I think he’s dead.

Where is he?

Behind the bar.

Did anybody see this?

No. I don’t think so. I’m not sure.

I see. What? Did you shoot him?

Bare hands.

You killed a man with your bare hands?

I believe so.

Put the body in your trunk and drive down 41. Dump it in the Kankakee River. It’ll be high. It’ll suck it right down.

Yeah.

Yes. And, don’t ever call me again. You hear me? Head down South. Or go to California. Start all over again.

I got a girl.

You got nothing. Just leave. Take your money out and leave.

What about my job?

Just leave.

No one expected to see them at the funeral. He’d been gone for such a long time. Years went by without a trace of him. He’s grown up. And her, she still looks the same. Looks like she jumped off a wedding cake. Maybe she did. Did she leave with him, or did he leave with her? Can’t remember. We tend to forget these things.

There they stood. Waiting in line to see dad one more time. The two of them sat in the back of the church, holding hands. All these folks here to bid farewell to his father; no one recognizing them. Maybe they didn’t want to. Damn shame. His own brothers and sister didn’t shake his hand. And as for her, they pretended she wasn’t there.

I saw them in front of the casket looking at dad. They both just stared. Dad’s ghost had long left the room. Looked at him real strange like. Then they walked away. Just left. You know when you’re not wanted.

Day light is good. You can see for miles, he said. Night time, nothing; no vision. Barely see in front of you, he lit a cigarette as they walked through fields of yellow, purple, rust.

He took her hand. Their fingers intertwined. Easy fit; no rings. What do you want? she asked. He kept looking forward. A dog barked in the distance. Am I in your future plans? She began to swing their arms back and forth. They kept walking. There was silence for a few minutes. I didn’t mean to ruin the afternoon, she told him, hands released. He kept looking on, beyond rows of wildflowers.

She stopped walking. He continued. Didn’t turn around. And, she didn’t chase him.

Morning. Did you sleep? She was crying all night. Said she was having bad dreams.

I heard her. Crying. Didn’t hear any talking, but there was crying.

Lately, she cries all the time. She could be in the grocery store and just break down in the middle of the produce aisle. Weeping over cabbage. Or something.

The other day she cried. Talking about the second coming of Jesus. Said she wasn’t ready for it.

Did you tell her she was?

No. I said nobody is. Left it at that. Figured she wouldn’t feel so singled out. Told her I wasn’t. Said I hadn’t been to church in years.

You told her that?

Yeah.

No wonder she’s crying all the time. She thinks she’s going to Hell, dad laughed. Poor thing. We gotta get her baptized.

You know any preachers?

We’ll do it ourselves. Take her down to the river and dunk her under for a bit or two.

That’ll work?

I believe so, the old man poured himself a glass of whiskey. He pointed at it. Holy water, he said.

Holy water, the boy poured a shot as well.

Here’s to Heaven.

Cheers.

There’s no point. This is done. Do you hear me? What’s the matter? Don’t just lie there in silence. Talk. Say something.

The silence continued. Her husband just laid there naked. Sheets and blankets were pushed aside. The cat made strange noises.

Do you remember the time we went on that trip to Florida. It was so hot. You said we’d save money by going in the summer. Who goes to Florida in the summer? she laughed, ran her fingers through his gray hair. The drive down there. Oh, that drive was something else. I remember we stopped in Savanah and went for a walk around town. All those weeping willows. Flowers. Orchids, I believe. Water. Lovely water, she continued stroking his hair. She placed her other arm around his belly.

You’ve got a bit of a paunch on you dear, she whispered. Yes, you’ve gained weight, she smiled. Better start taking care of yourself.

Tonight I’ll make grilled chicken and put it on a salad. It won’t hurt you to eat healthy, she got up and took her robe hanging on the door knob. You want coffee? she asked. You always want coffee, she opened the bedroom door. The cat stayed by her husband’s body.

I wish you’d say something. At least a good morning, she shook her head and walked down the hall. Made a pot of coffee. And waited for him.