Facing the Music (8 page)

the ground with her arms around a tree. In Memphis. All this is fuzzy. I had to keep wiping the blood out of my eyes. Mother stays gone all the time. I couldn't tell her. It had already been in all the papers about the boy they found. Maybe even me. He stomped on my head. The third boy was still standing in the road. I remember he just rolled over and pulled the covers up over him. We'd taken all kinds of crazy chances. She said what was done was done. His face was down in the mud. I'm for life. There weren't any napkins and they didn't give us enough ketchup. “You told her?” I said. She said think about it. She hadn't come right out and said it. Nobody wants to. I eased it up into park and got out with my hands up. It had taken her a long time to get over Daddy leaving her, but she was beginning to make the most of it. It was sharp. They must have known I was there. “You kids have a good time,” her mother said. I asked her if she wanted to go to the police or the hospital or what. I don't know how we got over in the woods. Julie wasn't anywhere around. She told it like she was in a trance. There were junked cars all over the pasture. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” I said. “If you want this car you can have it.” We'd get so hot we just wouldn't think clearly. He'd laid the rifle down. I just unlocked the door and went on into the kitchen. I knew he'd hurt her. “Please,” I said, “don't hurt her.” He was trying to pull the motor out of a '68 Camaro down in the pasture. I think my mind has tried to cover it up some way. “Please,” he said. “Please please please.” It wasn't that bad. I didn't think anything about it. “What's wrong?” she said. They had homemade tombstones, carved out of sandrock. I didn't
want to hurt her. The first one was doing something to her. The glass was fogged over with our breathing. My car was over there. I didn't want to get up. I couldn't see her getting an abortion. It was pretty good. The first one was puking against a tree. It's a hell of a thing, to see your mother doing that. “Would you just hold me for a little while?” I said. The gun went off. “What?” I said. The one who kicked me put a knife against my throat and I didn't do anything else. “Then we'll tell yours,” she said. But I probably wasn't the only kid who'd ever seen something like that. I just had gotten my car paid for, but it needed new tires. It squealed once in the road and was gone. He didn't want to die. I got out to take a leak and the ground was soft. When I grabbed for it, the other one kicked me. The vinyl top was rotted. He screamed when he came. And I wondered what she'd say. They must have heard my car pull up. She wouldn't even look up from the TV when I said something. “Are you sure?” she said. I cared about her. “I'm sure,” I said. He rolled out from under it with a wrench in his hand and a pissed-off look on his face, and he knew me then. It was a green '72 Camaro with a black top. He slammed me against the fender. He dropped the wrench. “Don't ask me any questions,” I said. “Just hold me.” I didn't know if I loved her. “You having trouble?” I said. I thought my nose was running. She was watching “Knot's Landing” and I watched it with her for a while. Randy Hillhouse lived not an eighth of a mile away. I missed Daddy, sure. “Remember me?” I said. I wound up getting about half fucked-up in the kitchen before I got my sausage and eggs fried. “We won't be out late,” she
said. It was the muzzle of a .22 rifle. I knew she wanted me to marry her. “I wonder what that's doing there,” she said. I thought I'd seen the boy somewhere before. Julie was quiet. I went down like I'd been shot. “Oh, man, no,” he said. It was raining, not hard, just enough to where you had to keep the wipers going to see. The movie wasn't that great. I could have let it go, I guess. We never did it less than twice. I've seen hogs do like that. I stuck it in his face. After it was over, we held each other for a long time. Later on I remembered it like a nightmare. It seems like I cried. Every night. I wanted a cigarette and couldn't smoke in there. She won't even talk to me now, doesn't act like she remembers who I am. “You told her?” I said. I didn't love her. Pow! I think now that I must have been trying to choke him. We'd talked about telling her. But I loved my mother. The first one and the second one were brothers. About the same age as me. I turned and looked at it. “It's okay to cry sometimes,” she said. The car was parked at the end of the turnaround. I could see this kid in my mind, running around on a softball field. “You want to tell her?” I said. When I pulled the door shut, I thought about it and unlocked it and stepped inside the living room and turned on the lamp. It's more like a dream now that never really happened. She was screaming for me to help her. She hadn't held me like that in a long time. I waited a week. Her mouth tasted like chewing gum. I think I cried some. It got hard again. I'd already put it up in reverse when the first one knocked on the window. We kissed. I was late when I got over there. I must have passed out. She kissed me, and then she looked at her mother. “For
God's sake,” I said. I only put one shell in it. I always felt like her mother knew what we were doing. We'd have clothes lying everywhere. I remember one time I walked in on them when they were in bed. I made sure it was him. “You can talk to me anytime you want to,” she said. I can't forget how he looked lying there. She said take her home. There was a strange car in the driveway when I pulled up. It was about fifteen miles from town. I stopped and watched for a long time before I went up. They were waiting for us. I thought I was going to vomit, but I didn't. I smashed his head into the fender and caught his hair in both my hands and kneed him in the nose. I'd never done anything to him. We heard their car leave. I kissed her and opened her blouse. I shot him and he fell. “You can get me so damn hot,” she said. Then I got myself some Coke out of the icebox and mixed a drink. One was all I needed. She told me how this man had three kids and a wife who didn't like to dance. I didn't move. I could just touch her between her legs and she'd be ready to come. I guess we were both surprised. We were both quiet. “Let's get up and go home, and we'll tell your mother first,” I said. I didn't know whether to just go on in or knock on the door. The one on Julie's side said something to the one with the rifle. His pants were down around his knees and she sounded like she was choking. “No,” he said, “I don't know you.” It seemed that she was what I had been wanting my whole life. I turned around and grabbed his head. They didn't look like people who would raise a son like that. “We've got a flat,” he said, but the car looked level. The second one went over to her. I didn't know what they were doing.
“Yes, you do,” I said. Another, third boy stood in the rain with his hands in his pockets. I was lying on the ground in front of the car. Her body was the temple where I worshipped. They hit me in the head with the gun and then I couldn't see what they were doing with her. I blame that on him. He might have been their cousin. I'd seen his parents before. I eased through town. “Let's get married,” I said. The rain was falling in front of the headlights. I had to pull over and stop. It was the best thing I'd ever done. I didn't have an inspection sticker and I was trying to stay away from the law. She'd never mentioned him. But they do. He'd been to the funeral of his brother. I didn't know what to do. “I'll do anything if you don't,” she said. I thought she was full of bullshit. Sideways. I didn't like them anyway. I pulled the trigger. I saw then what they'd done. We pulled up into the graveyard and the tires slid in the mud. “He's got a gun,” she said. I don't remember driving there. They were both naked and he was between her legs. He was dead, just like that. But the fetus was alive. We hadn't talked about telling anybody. I watched it, but I couldn't concentrate on it for thinking about what we were going to do later. She was still getting ready. He had it out and was holding it in his hand. There were a lot of things I could have said to him, I guess. She said she hoped it was a girl. I know I was scared. I cranked the car and let it warm up. The third one looked like he was puking in the ditch. It made a little red hole between his eyes. She had an abortion. What's bad is that he may be burning for an eternity because of me. She couldn't stop kissing me. I could remember, faintly, seeing them doing it when I was little.
When I grabbed the barrel, he turned loose and ran. When it was raining, it was wonderful to park with her. We'd have to get married soon. I know she was thinking about doing it just like me. I kicked the bottoms of his feet. But it's all posted now and you can't hunt on it. I helped her into the car and we looked for the third boy but we didn't see him. There was so much I had to tell her and so much I needed to tell her and in the end I told her nothing. And maybe we wouldn't even be able to make it. I couldn't feel her with one on. I took a shower and shaved, walking around naked in the house. I didn't want to see her hurt. She knew them. “Hey,” I said. Jeans and a striped shirt. I didn't know what in the hell to do. I didn't mind killing him so much, after what he'd done. It was my child. I guess he was loosening the transmission bolts. So safe and warm. “Whenever you tell yours,” I said. I turned on the defroster when it warmed up. I kept messing around with her. They used to come over and talk to her. The grass was high and there was an old dog pen or hog pen in the pasture with rotten posts and rusted wire. I'd always come right away the first time. We'd been going at each other for the last five months. He was crying and begging me not to do it. I begged him not to hurt her and he kicked me in the face. It hurt.

I was smoking my last cigarette in a bar one day, around the middle of the afternoon. I was drinking heavy, too, for several reasons. It was hot and bright outside, and cool and dark inside the bar, so that's one reason I was in there. But the main reason I was in there was because my wife had left me to go live with somebody else.

A kid came in there unexpectedly, a young, young kid. And of course that's not allowed. You can't have kids coming in bars. People won't put up with that. I was just on the verge of going out to my truck for another pack of smokes when he walked in. I don't remember who all was in there. Some old guys, I guess, and probably, some drunks. I know there was one old man, a golfer, who came in there every afternoon with shaky hands, drank exactly three draft beers, and told these crummy dirty jokes that would make you just close your eyes
and shake your head without smiling if you weren't in a real good mood. And back then, I was never in much of a good mood. I knew they'd tell that kid to leave.

But I don't think anybody much wanted to. The kid didn't look good. I thought there was something wrong the minute he stepped in. He had these panicky eyes.

The bartender, Harry, was a big muscled-up guy with a beard. He was washing beer glasses at the time, and he looked up and saw him standing there. The only thing the kid had on was a pair of green gym shorts that were way too big for him. He looked like maybe he'd been walking down the side of a road for a long time, or something similar to that.

Harry, he raised up a little and said, “What you want, kid?” I could see that the kid had some change in his hand. He was standing on the rail and he had his elbows hooked over the bar to hold himself up.

I'm not trying to make this sound any worse than it was, but to me the kid just looked like maybe he hadn't always had enough to eat. He was two or three months overdue for a haircut, too.

“I need a pack a cigrets,” he said. I looked at Harry to see what he'd say. He was already shaking his head.

“Can't sell em to you, son,” he said. “Minor.”

I thought the kid might give Harry some lip. He didn't. He said, “Oh,” but he stayed where he was. He looked at me. I knew then that something was going on. But I tried not to think about it. I had troubles enough of my own.

Harry went back to washing his dishes, and I took another drink of my beer. I was trying to cut down, but it was so damn hot outside, and I had a bunch of self-pity loading up on me at that time. The way I had it figured, if I could just stay where I was until the sun went down, and then make my way home without getting thrown in jail, I'd be okay. I had some catfish I was going to thaw out later.

Nobody paid any attention to the kid after that. He wasn't making any noise, wasn't doing anything to cause people to look at him. He turned loose of the bar and stepped down off the rail, and I saw his head going along the far end toward the door.

But then he stuck his face back around the corner, and motioned me toward him with his finger. I didn't say a word, I just looked at him. I couldn't see anything but his eyes sticking up, and that one finger, crooked at me, moving.

I could have looked down at my beer and waited until he went away. I could have turned my back. I knew he couldn't stay in there with us. He wasn't old enough. You don't have to get yourself involved in things like that. But I had to go out for my cigarettes, eventually. Right past him.

I got up and went around there. He'd backed up into the dark part of the lounge.

“Mister,” he said. “Will you loan me a dollar?”

He already had money for cigarettes. I knew somebody outside had sent him inside.

I said, “What do you need a dollar for?”

He kind of looked around and fidgeted his feet in the shadows while he thought of what he was going to say.

“I just need it,” he said. “I need to git me somethin.”

He looked pretty bad. I pulled out a dollar and gave it to him. He didn't say thanks or anything. He just turned and pushed open the door and went outside. I started not to follow him just then. But after a minute I did.

The way the bar's made, there's a little enclosed porch you come into before you get into the lounge. There's a glass door where you can stand inside and look outside. God, it was hot out there. There wasn't even a dog walking around. The sun was burning down on the parking lot, and the car the kid was crawling into was about what I'd expected. A junky-ass old Rambler, wrecked on the right front end, with the paint almost faded off, and slick tires, and a rag hanging out of the grill. It was parked beside my truck and it was full of people. It looked like about four kids in the backseat. The woman who was driving put her arm over the seat, said something to the kid, and then reached out and whacked the hell out of him.