Something in My Eye: Stories (11 page)

Braines shielded his eyes from the sun. “Get up Handy,” he said. “Get Churn up too, while you're at it.”

Handy got up. So did Churn, but he started reading.

“Morning, men,” said Handy.

“Good afternoon is more like it,” said the other man.

“We overslept,” said Handy. “Damn.”

“My name is Tone,” said the first man. “Sorry to have woken you so suddenly.”

“My name's Mace,” said the other. “I don't know the word sorry.”

Braines rubbed his eyes and looked behind the two men. He saw a third person near the trees, but couldn't tell if it was a man or not. It had very long hair and wore a dress. A straw hat hid its face. “Who's your partner?” he said.

“Please don't you worry about him,” said Tone.

“So it's a him?” said Braines. He rubbed his eyes again. “You sure about that?”

“Don't think you're in position to know,” said Mace.

“What's his name,” said Braines. “Surely he's got one.”

“He hasn't told us,” said Tone. “If he tells you, let us know.”

“Sure is nice to meet you both,” said Braines.

“I'm Handy,” said Handy. He stuck out his hand. No one shook it.

“Did you say your name was Handy?” said Mace.

Braines shot Handy a look. “No,” said Handy. “I said my name was Randy.”

“I could have sworn you said Handy,” said Tone.

“Randy's the name,” said Handy. “And these are my friends Bane and Chum.”

Braines shot Handy another look. Churn kept reading.

“The radio's been talking a lot today about a Handy, Braines, and Churn,” said Mace. “And, of course, it's also talking about the end of the world.”

“Radio's always talking about the end of the world,” said Braines. “Can't never stomach more than five minutes at a time, myself.”

“Why are you worried about the end of the world?” said Mace.

“Don't like to think that we all gotta settle up eventually,” said Braines.

“Why does that worry you?” said Tone.

“I'm having too nice a time amongst my friends, I guess,” said Braines.

“Are you boys vacationing?” said Handy. “I hear these are happening woods.”

“We are not,” said Tone. “We met a few vacationers today, though.” He and Mace laughed a hollow laugh. “What are
you
doing here?” said Mace.

“Vacationing,” said Braines.

“Really?” said Tone. “Where are your tents?”

“We like to rough it,” said Braines.

“Then where are your canned goods?” said Mace.

Braines pointed to the bones on the picnic table. “We like to rough it,” he said.

“And the remains of your campfire?” said Tone.

“Chum here likes to read his book by the night sky,” said Braines, “so we don't never light one.”

“You believe our story?” said Handy.

Braines shot Handy a look.

“You believe the story we're telling you?” said Handy.

Braines shot Handy another look.

“You believe the justification for why we're here?” said Handy.

Braines shot Handy one more look.

“Hush now,” said Mace. “We try and believe everything.”

“We're very open people,” said Tone.

“What do y'all do for a living?” said Handy.

“Move around,” said Mace.

“We used to be the same way,” said Handy.

Braines did not even bother shooting Handy a look.

“Well, what changed that?” said Tone.

“We had to get nine to fives,” said Braines.

“Must be nice to take a vacation like this,” said Mace.

“You bet,” said Handy. “In such a camping spot to boot.”

Braines looked again at the long-haired man in the hat and dress. He thought he recognized him. “Do you mind if I talk with your friend?” he said.

“Please give it a try,” said Tone.

Braines walked to the third man, but the third man turned away. “Do you know me?” Braines said. The man did not answer. Braines walked back to the others. “Bashful, ain't he?”

“Sometimes,” said Mace.

“He's tougher than he looks,” said Tone.

“Not with that hat, he ain't,” said Braines.

“You must think you're funny,” said Tone.

“What?” said Braines.

“You and Sandy,” said Mace. “You like to make jokes, don't you?”

“Never judged a man for laughing,” said Braines.

“Your jokes must be very important to you,” said Tone.

“Jokes are a perfect escape,” said Mace.

“Never thought humor was my specialty,” said Braines.

“It really isn't,” said Mace. “So don't worry.”

“He's right,” said Tone. “Do you know why?”

“No,” said Braines. “Not sure I care to.”

“Because when you're funny, you can make up for deficiencies in your story,” said Mace.

“We should be getting along, Bane,” said Handy. “I don't like the way they're talking to us.”

“We met a lot of people today,” said Mace.

“Yeah,” said Tone. “The vacationers all pretended to be criminals, and all the criminals pretended to be on vacation.”

“Been nice meeting y'all,” said Braines.

Mace turned toward the third man in the hat and dress, who was curling his hand toward the trees. “Handy,” said Mace. “Our partner wants to introduce himself to you.”

Handy looked at Braines, and Braines gave him the sign. Then Handy started jogging away from all of them, as fast as he could. Tone and Mace drew weapons, and shouted at Handy, who froze. “Alright,” he said. He began walking toward the third man. Braines watched them walk together into the trees.

“Chum,” said Braines. “I need you to put down the Good Book and look at these men.”

Churn put down the book. He looked at the men. He smiled.

“What the shit, Chum?” said Braines.

“How are you, Churn?” said Tone.

Churn said nothing, because he was mute.

“Y'all know Churn?” said Braines.

“Churn here used to do our our dirty work,” said Mace.

Churn smiled broader. Braines saw the long-haired man in the hat and dress come back to the clearing.

“Me and Churn and Handy all repented in prison,” said Braines.

“So you
were
in prison?” said Tone.

“Now seems like a time for honesty,” said Braines.

“Why?” said Mace.

“Don't know,” said Braines. “Sometimes a man just knows.”

“And you did a lot of repenting there?” said Mace.

“Sure did,” said Braines. “Handy too. With Churn I can only guess.”

“Repenting's a wonderful thing,” said Tone. “Not many are willing to do it.”

“It's such a nice gesture,” said Mace. “But your crime wasn't really that bad.”

“It was heinous,” said Braines. “I'm just happy you fellas remember it.”

“It must have been heart-wrenching,” said Mace, “being falsely imprisoned like you were.”

“We had a fair trial,” said Braines. “We deserved every bit of that punishment.”

“You can believe what you want,” said Tone.

“If it makes you feel better,” said Mace.

“I don't feel good at all,” said Braines.

Braines saw the third man begin curling his hand toward the trees.

“He wants to get to know you,” said Mace.

“Please don't keep him waiting,” said Tone.

“Me and the Devil are on good terms,” said Braines. “He'll recognize me.”

“Good for you,” said Mace. He and Tone put their weapons in Braines' face. “But our man's no devil,” he said. “He's worse than that.”

“Tell me one thing,” said Braines. “Would I have been safer back in prison?”

“No,” said Tone.

“We were headed there next,” said Mace.

“What if I hadn't repented so much?” said Braines.

“Wouldn't have meant a thing,” said Tone.

“So there was nothing I could have done differently?” said Braines.

“Nothing,” said Tone.

“You did as well as anybody,” said Mace.

“Will you take care of Churn for me?” said Braines.

“No,” said Tone.

“Churn is next,” said Mace.

“Let him come with me,” said Braines. “Please. He's got no friends. All he's got is that damn book.”

“Our partner takes one at a time,” said Mace.

“Hell,” said Braines. “Goodbye, then.” He started walking toward the long-haired man in the hat and dress. Then he looked back and waved at all of them, though it was just for show. Tone and Mace didn't wave, and Churn had gone back to the book.

Braines took the third man's hand, and let himself be led out of the clearing, into the trees.

“Do you know me?” said Braines.

The third man lay Braines down in the piles of the others, then closed Braines' eyes for him. The question was never answered.

E
arly one morning, a long time ago, I was bathing in the Okeh River, near downtown Hernville, gently scrubbing the most neglected parts of my body with an old bandana I had recently acquired. And though I was alone, and the water was cold, I kept myself warm by remembering all the memories I had made the night before, when I was out on the town, ringing in the New Year in style. And when I had finished replaying all those memories, and each, in their own way, had brought me a small flicker of warmth, I found that I still had more of myself to cleanse, so I changed the direction of my thinking, from memories to more tangible items, and began listing all the things I was thankful for in my life:

And once I had finished listing these things, I found that I still had a few more crevices that needed attention, so I continued scrubbing, working the bandana over myself as quickly but as industriously as I could, even as I felt my arms and legs losing feeling. And finally, realizing that I really was fighting a downhill battle, knowing that in order to save my precious life I would have to emerge from the water before I got myself to a level of cleanliness I could live with, I tried, in one last push, to distract myself again, and began formulating some resolutions for the New Year, hoping they might grant me that last bit of warmth I needed to finish, but before I could even begin to envision the year ahead, and all that I might accomplish in it, I heard a voice call down to me from way up on the bridge.

“Hey,” it said. “I know what you're doing.”

“I'm just taking my bath for the day,” I said. “No big deal.”

“Didn't look like bathing to me.”

“Oh, don't pretend to know anything about my morning routine.”

“Looked like frolicking,” he said. “And my name is Moany.”

“Well,” I said, “if you were down here, you'd be able to see clearly,” and while I wholeheartedly agreed with what I was saying, I instantly regretted saying it; I didn't really feel like engaging with Moany, or any one at all, for that matter, especially after having such a social time the night before.

“I still say you were frolicking,” Moany insisted, as he—a little recklessly, I thought—stepped sideways down the steep embankment to meet me. Once he reached the riverbank, I looked at him closely to make sure he was safe to associate with. Much to my relief, Moany was thin and little. I would really like to pay him more tribute in my description of him, because of how nice a person he was, but he was quite ugly. His only possession, beyond his clothes, was a little jar full of clear liquid that he kept under his arm.

“What made you think I was frolicking?” I said.

“You were waving your hands around.”

“I was cleansing myself,” I said, suddenly feeling my muscles beginning to spasm. “It's too cold to be frolicking.”

I then told him then that I would talk a lot more candidly if he would give me a moment to get out of the river and put on my outfit: my jeans and my jacket. Moany was silent, though he seemed to understand my needs, politely turning away as I emerged from the river. After I was dressed, I invited him to join me on my couch. When I'd first moved under the bridge, there was plenty of unoccupied space for the taking, but at the same time, there wasn't any real cozy spot I could call my own—a place where I could sleep, eat, and get some thinking done, while not constantly having to readjust my position due to the sharp stones on the riverbank. So I really was overjoyed, and at the same time, very humbled, when, one day, on the bridge above me, a head-on collision occurred between a furniture truck and a truck carrying combustibles, and as a result of the tragic accident, a smoky but brand new leather couch tumbled down the embankment, end over end, until it came to rest, right side up, at my feet.

“Say you were frolicking,” said Moany. “What would you have been frolicking for?”

“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe I would have been frolicking at the fact that we have a new year upon us.”

“And why would that be cause for frolicking?” said Moany.