Life or Death (12 page)

Carl’s hands were shaking and sweat prickling on his forehead. He closed his eyes and tears squeezed from the delta-like wrinkles.

‘Please let me call an ambulance,’ said Audie.

‘You want to make the pain go away?’

‘Sure.’

‘I can tell you what to buy.’

‘I’m not buying you drugs.’

‘Why? You got money. What about that cash you been saving? You could gimme that.’

‘No.’

‘My need is greater.’

Audie shook his head. Carl sighed and took a rattling breath. For a long while nothing was said. Audie watched a fly crawling across the fetid bandage, feeding on the pus and dried blood.

Carl spoke. ‘Remember when we used to go fishing at Lake Conroe?’

‘Yeah.’

‘We stayed at that wood cabin near Wildwood Shores. It weren’t much to look at, but you could catch fish right from the dock. Remember that time you caught that 15lb bass? Man, I thought that fish was gonna pull you right out of boat. I had to keep hold of your belt.’

‘You were yelling at me to keep the line tense.’

‘I didn’t want you to lose it.’

‘I thought you were angry with me.’

‘Why?’

‘It should have been your fish. You gave me your rod to hold while you got Daddy a beer from the cooler. That’s when it bit.’

‘I wasn’t angry. I was proud of you. That was a state junior record. They wrote you up in the newspaper and everything.’ He smiles, or it could be a grimace. ‘Man, they were great days. The water was so clear. Not like the Trinity River, which is only fit for bodies and garfish.’ He took a rattling breath. ‘I want to go there.’

‘Lake Conroe?’

‘No, the river, I want to see it.’

‘I’m not taking you anywhere except a hospital.’

‘Take me to the river and I promise, after that, you can do whatever you like.’

‘How am I supposed to get you there?’

‘We got the truck.’

Audie looked out the window at the railway yard and the rusting freight cars that hadn’t rolled in twenty years. The tattered curtains were billowing like apparitions. What was he supposed to do?

‘I’ll take you to the river but then we’re going to the hospital.’

Audie’s mind drifts back to the present. He’s standing beneath the drooping branches of a willow tree, secretly watching the same house and wondering about the boy. She said his name was Max. He looked about fifteen, fine-boned with a wedge-shaped face and wide-set brown eyes. Eighth grade. What do fifteen-year-old boys like? Girls. Action movies. Popcorn. Heroes. Computer games.

It’s midday Sunday and the shadows are bunched beneath the trees as if avoiding the hottest part of the day. Max leaves the house and kicks along the pavement riding his skateboard, jumping the cracks and weaving around a woman walking her dog. Crossing Woodlands Parkway, he heads north to Market Street and The Mews where he buys a can of soda and sits in bright sunshine on a bench in Central Park, rocking the skateboard beneath his sneakers.

Looking over a shoulder, both ways, he puts a cigarette to his lips and cups his hands around a lit match before waving the matchstick in the smoky air. Audie follows his gaze to a girl working on the window display in one of the shops. She’s putting a dress on a mannequin, pulling it over the bald plastic head and shoulders and hourglass curves. The window dresser is about Max’s age, maybe a little older. When she bends her skirt rides up and he can see almost to her panties. Max picks up the skateboard and puts it on his lap.

‘You’re too young to be smoking,’ says Audie.

‘I’m eighteen,’ says Max, spinning around, trying to drop his voice an octave.

‘You’re fifteen.’ Audie takes a seat and opens a carton of chocolate milk.

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do.’

Max stubs out the cigarette and looks hard at Audie, trying to work out whether he’s someone who might know his parents.

Audie holds out his hand and introduces himself, using his real name. Max stares at the outstretched palm. ‘You were talking to my mom this morning.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Are you gonna tell her I smoke?’

‘No.’

‘Why are you sitting here?’

‘I’m resting my legs.’

Max goes back to looking at the shop window where the girl is putting a chunky necklace on the mannequin. She turns and looks out the window. Waves. Max waves back self-consciously.

‘Who is she?’

‘A girl from school.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Sophia.’

‘Is she your girlfriend?’

‘No!’

‘But you like her?’

‘I never said that.’

‘She’s pretty. Ever talked to her?’

‘We hang out.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘We’re in the same group – sort of.’

Audie nods and takes another swig of chocolate milk.

‘When I was about your age, I liked this one girl, Phoebe Carter. I was always too scared to ask her out. I thought she just wanted to be friends.’

‘What happened?’

‘I took her to see
Jurassic Park
.’

‘Everybody’s seen that.’

‘Well, it was new back then and pretty scary. And when Phoebe got scared, she jumped into my lap. I don’t remember anything else about that film.’

‘That’s lame.’

‘I bet if Phoebe Carter jumped in your lap you wouldn’t think it was lame.’

‘I bet I would ’cos Phoebe Carter must be old by now.’

Audie laughs and so does Max.

‘Maybe you should ask Sophia to see a movie.’

‘She’s got a boyfriend.’

‘So what? You got nothing to lose. I met a woman this one time and she had a really bad boyfriend. I tried to get her to leave him but she didn’t think she needed rescuing, but she did.’

‘What was so bad about him?’

‘He was a gangster and she was a slave.’

‘There ain’t no slaves any more. They were emancipated in 1865.’

‘Oh, that was just one type of slavery,’ says Audie. ‘There are plenty more.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I had to steal her away from him.’

‘Was he dangerous?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did he come looking for you?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘I’ll tell you the story one day.’

A uniformed cop is watching them from fifty yards away. He’s eating a sandwich. Finishing the last mouthful, he wanders over to the bench, brushing crumbs off his shirt.

Max looks up. ‘Hi, Deputy Gerard.’

‘Where’s your old man?’

‘Working today.’

The deputy looks at Audie with curiosity. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Max and me are just shooting the breeze,’ says Audie.

‘You live in the area?’

‘I just moved in around the corner from Max. Met his mother this morning.’

‘Sandy.’

‘She seemed very friendly.’

The deputy agrees and tosses his sandwich wrapping in the bin. He touches the edge of his hat with his finger as a final salute. Audie and the boy watch him leave.

‘How did you know my name?’ asks Max.

‘Your mother told me,’ says Audie.

‘And why do you keep staring at me?’

‘You remind me of someone.’

The teenager looks back at the shop window. Sophia has gone.

‘Remember what I said,’ says Audie, getting to his feet.

‘About what?’

‘Asking her out.’

‘Yeah, right,’ says Max sarcastically.

‘In the meantime – do me a favour and quit smoking. It’s not good for your asthma.’

‘How do you know I have asthma?’

‘I just do.’

15

Cassie punches Audie hard in the stomach.

‘You stole my car!’

‘I borrowed it,’ he gasps.

‘Don’t bullshit me, mister. It’s not borrowing if you don’t ask first.’

‘You were asleep.’

‘Let’s see how that holds up in court. Do I look stupid to you?’ Cassie flexes her hand. ‘Christ, that hurt! What are you made of, cement? Where did you go?’

‘I had to get my credit cards replaced.’

‘It’s Sunday. Banks don’t open.’

‘I had people to see.’

‘Who?’

‘My sister lives in Houston.’

‘Your sister?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why aren’t you staying with her?’

‘I haven’t seen her in a while.’

Cassie isn’t buying any of this. She holds up the taser. ‘You want a dose of this?’

Whatever softness Audie had once seen in Cassie has disappeared beneath a shell of anger and resentment, her natural defences. Turning away, she drags her suitcase onto the bed where Scarlett is lying on her stomach watching the Disney channel.

‘Come on, we’re leaving.’

‘But I like it here,’ says Scarlett.

‘Do as you’re told!’

Cassie is collecting damp washing from the bathroom, shoving the clothes into a suitcase.

‘I’m really sorry about the car,’ says Audie. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘Damn straight.’

‘Let me take you to dinner – we’ll go somewhere nice.’

Scarlett looks at her mother expectantly.

‘Did you use all my gas?’ Cassie asks.

‘I filled up the tank.’

‘OK. Dinner and then we’re leaving.’

Cassie chooses the restaurant. They drive to a Denny’s where the laminated menu has pictures of all the dishes. ‘I like seeing what I’m gonna eat,’ she explains, ordering a steak and jacket potato. Scarlett has spaghetti and meatballs and between each mouthful she colours in a drawing using a box of broken crayons. When they’ve finished eating and the plates are cleared and dessert is under discussion, Cassie seems to have mellowed.

‘What would you do if you had a million dollars?’ she asks Audie, as though this had been their ongoing conversation.

‘I’d buy my mother a new kidney.’

‘What’s wrong with her old one?’

‘It doesn’t work so good.’

‘How much would it cost to buy a new kidney?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘But you’d have some money left over, right? It wouldn’t cost a million – not just for one kidney?’

Audie agrees and asks what Cassie would do with a million dollars.

‘I’d buy a house and some nice clothes and a new car. I’d open up my own salon – maybe a whole string of ’em.’

‘Would you go and visit your daddy?’

‘Only to rub his face in it.’

‘People say a lot of things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment.’

Cassie falls silent, running her finger through a ring of condensation on the table. ‘Who is she?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Last night when you were sleeping, you kept saying a woman’s name.’

Audie shrugs.

‘Must be someone. Your girlfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Wife?’

Audie changes the subject and talks to Scarlett about her drawing, helping her choose the colours. After he pays the bill they wander through the night stalls, picking up trinkets and putting them down again.

Back at the motel he goes to the bathroom, locks the door and studies his reflection in the mirror. He takes the hair trimmer from his bag and runs it back and forth across his scalp like he’s mowing a miniature lawn. Dark locks float into the sink. Afterwards, he stands under the shower, spreading his arms and turning his face to the spray. When he emerges he looks like he’s joined the army.

‘Why’d you cut your hair?’ asks Scarlett.

‘I wanted a change.’

‘Can I feel?’

She stands on the bed and runs the palm of her hand over the short spikes, giggling. She stops suddenly. ‘What are thosth?’

She’s seen the scars. They’re more visible now that his hair is cut so short. Cassie crosses the room and grabs Audie’s head in both hands, turning it towards the lamp. It’s as though his skull was shattered and glued back together like a busted vase. There are more scars on his forearms, flattened grey worms that wrap around his muscles. Defence wounds. Prison souvenirs.

‘Who did that to you?’

‘I didn’t get his number.’

Cassie pushes him away and goes to the bathroom. She runs a bath for Scarlett and doesn’t come back until the girl is playing in the tub. Sitting on the opposite bed, she holds her hands in her lap, staring at Audie, who has put on a long-sleeve shirt to hide his forearms.

‘What’s going on here?’

Audie looks up at her, trying to understand the question.

‘You wear those dark glasses and the baseball cap and every time you pass a camera you lower your head. Now you’ve cut your hair. Are you a fugitive?’

Audie exhales, almost relieved. ‘Some folks are looking for me.’

‘Are they drug dealers, gangsters, repo men, police?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Did you hurt anyone?’

‘No.’

‘Did you break one of the Ten Commandments?’

‘No.’

Cassie sighs and puts one foot on top of the other as a little girl might. Her hair is so fair that her darker eyebrows look stark and painted on, rising and falling as she talks.

‘It’s bad enough that you lied to me and stole my car…’

‘I’m not a criminal.’

‘You act like one.’

‘It’s not the same thing.’

Wrapped in a towel, Scarlett appears in the doorway of the bathroom. Steam has flattened her curls.

‘I don’t want to thleep in the car, Mommy. Can’t we thtay here?’

Cassie hesitates and pulls her daughter closer, hugging her with her legs and arms as though clinging to a tree in a flooded river. She glances at Audie over the girl’s bare shoulder.

‘One more night.’

16

Ryan Valdez doesn’t usually drive the cruiser home. He prefers taking the pickup because it’s less conspicuous, albeit downmarket for The Woodlands where most of his neighbours are driving BMWs or Mercedes or luxury SUVs.

Sandy says he looks like a redneck when he drives the pickup.

‘Maybe I
am
a redneck.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’ll never fit in.’

Fitting in is important to Sandy, and Valdez sometimes feels that his wife is more embarrassed by his uniform than the car he drives. It’s not that their neighbours don’t respect the police and feel they perform a vital function, but that doesn’t mean they want to socialise with a county sheriff. It is one degree too close – like dining with your proctologist.