Far from Xanadu (12 page)

“The shower’s in the downstairs bathroom.” Charlene returned, her face flushed, a roller hanging loose. “This way.” We had to forge a path through the toys and crusty dishes and piles of laundry on the floor.

The basement was dark, dank, semi-finished. Everyone in town had a basement. Coalton was in the heart of tornado alley, so basements or storm cellars were essential. We’d never actually had a tor-nado set down in town, but five or six threatened every year. Charlene flicked on the light in the bathroom. My eyes adjusted and honed in on the tub. It had a fuzzy scum ring. Gross. Not as gross as the mildew from the faucet clear up to the shower head. Every tile was black and warped.

Bad news.

“It’s been dripping awhile,” Charlene said.

No shit. The leaky spigot was the least of her worries. There had to be a major rupture in the pipes behind the wallboard for this much buckling of the tile.

“Cut it out!” a voice harped upstairs. “Give it back. Mommy, Todd’s got my skateboard and he won’t give it back.”

The skateboard flew down the stairs and almost decapitated Charlene. “Goddammit, Todd!” she screamed. “You’re in time-out.” She stormed up the steps, her voice shrilling, “Trent and Troy, both of you, just keep away from your brother. If you wake up that baby, I’ll beat your butts bloody....”

I ran my hand along the shower wall and one of the tiles fell off. Uh-oh. I didn’t bring any mortar or grout. The sound of sniffling behind me made me spin around. A kid lurked in the shadows. Same one who’d stared me down in the living room. He had to be either Troy or Trent, since Todd was getting his rear end blistered upstairs.

Troy/Trent stuck his tongue out at me. I grinned. At least he was normal. “Hey,” I said.

He slit snake eyes and hissed.

Scary. Scary kids.

Charlene bustled back down the stairs. “Sorry. You must be thanking your lucky stars you’ll never have kids,” she said.

What’d she mean by that? I was going to have kids.

Another bellow from upstairs: “Mommy! Todd shut the door on my finger.” Bawling like a banshee.

“Jesus H. Christ —”

“You go ahead,” I told her. “I’ll take care of this. I might have to remove a portion of the wall to get to the pipes.”

“Whatever,” Charlene said. “Me and Reese are moving our bedroom down here to get some peace and quiet. We need this shower to work.”

“Are you a girl or a boy?” the kid asked. “You look like a boy.”

“Trent!” Charlene cuffed him upside the head. Ow. That had to hurt.

He wailed. Well, I would too.

“That is so rude. Apologize to Mike. To, uh, Mary-Elizabeth.”

I grimaced. “That’s okay. I do sort of look like a boy. Check this out.” I flexed my arm for Trent. His eyes bulged. Pretty impressive, if I did say so myself. You could see the action through my sweatshirt.

He flexed his skinny arm back. I said, “Dude. You’re The Rock.” He giggled.

“Thank you, Mike.” Charlene let out a long breath and hugged Trent to her leg. “Let’s all take a time-out, huh?” She kissed his head, then scooted Trent up the stairs.

I got to work. Halfway through the job of prying off tiles, Charlene reappeared. “So,” she said. “How’s that sweet brother of yours?” She crouched to retrieve something from under the sink. A pack of Salems and a lighter.

Darryl, sweet? “He’s okay,” I lied. More bitter than sweet.

She shook a cigarette out of the pack and mushed it between her lips. “Is he in love with anyone these days?” She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, like it was the breath of life.

“You mean besides himself ?”

Charlene coughed out smoke. “You’re so funny. I forgot what a kill you are. No. Ego was never Darryl’s problem. Just the opposite.” She flicked her ashes into the sink. “He never could —” She stopped.

A stereo blasted overhead, the bass cranked up so high it made the walls shake. “Goddammit, they’re going to wake up the baby.” Charlene wrenched on the cold water faucet and extinguished her cigarette, then pulled out the sink trap and washed the butt down the drain. As she charged up the stairs again, I thought, That is not a healthy habit for a home drainage system.

Darryl never could what? I wondered. Get it up?

It took a while to cut through the wallboard, since I only had the keyhole saw, and when I lifted out the square of wall, the problem presented itself. Whoever had installed this plumbing had done a half-assed job. It wasn’t Dad. He’d never have used galvanized steel pipe in a bathroom. It didn’t last long enough, as evidenced by this leak. Leaks, I should say. Three or four continuous leaks. There was more than one botched repair too. Dad would never have fluxed steel pipe to PVC, or even tried to.

I decided to do it right. Rip out the pipe and replumb the whole setup with copper. I’d have to run back to the shop for supplies. Didn’t matter. I was psyched about the job.

At the top of the stairs, I found Charlene on the sofa breast-feeding her baby. “I have to run to the shop,” I told her, trying not to look.

“He was there when I had Todd. Did he tell you that?” Charlene said.

“What?” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Or who. She had this dreamy look in her eyes. I inched toward the front door. “I’ll let myself back in.”

“Darryl, I mean,” Charlene went on. She adjusted the baby, squeezing her boob with her free hand. “He took me to the hospital in Garden City and stayed during my whole labor and delivery.”

“Darryl?” I stopped in my tracks. “You’re kidding. When was this?”

Charlene glanced up, blinked. “Four, five years ago? Todd just had a birthday, so six years ago. Wow, has it been that long? Reese was at some officer training course in Topeka and it was snowing, like tonight. He couldn’t make it back. My mom was off visiting her sister. So I called Darryl. He handled everything, like I knew he would. He always was responsible. Good old dependable Darryl.”

“Darryl?” My Darryl? We were talking two different people.

“So sweet,” Charlene cooed.

Was she still talking Darryl, or the baby?

“I was scared,” she said. “It hurt bad, my first labor. Thirty-three hours. He stayed with me, held my hand the whole time. He held me during the worst of it.”

“I better.. .” I motioned toward the door.

“I should’ve married him. Stupid. I was so young and stupid. I should’ve said yes when he asked.”

Darryl proposed?

Charlene kept her eyes on her baby. “All I could think was the insecurity, you know? The instability. A life on the road? No sir, not for me. Darryl and his cars.” She sighed. “He loved racing those cars.” Her nipple slipped out of the baby’s mouth and my eyes strayed to it. Slick nipple, swollen. I couldn’t help looking.

I tripped over a Tonka truck. Then stumbled out of the house.

It took three hours to remove the old pipe, install the new, reconnect all the fixtures. While I was at it, I cleaned the faucets and put in new washers. Tomorrow I’d come back with a sheet of wallboard and replacement tiles. Until then, Charlene and Reese could use the tub. I found a can of Comet under the sink and scoured the tub until the porcelain sparkled.

I should’ve been exhausted, but I wasn’t. Exhilarated was more like it. Satisfied and happy with the job. It was late. After midnight. I packed my stuff and crept up the stairs. Reese lay on the couch, blowing a stream of smoke through pouched out lips. He was still wearing his sheriff ’s uniform. Shirttail out, bare feet. I assumed he was off duty. When he saw me, he quickly stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray on his chest and jumped to attention.

That wasn’t a regular cigarette.

“Mike, what are you doing here?” Reese said, fanning the air.

“I came to fix your shower downstairs. Charlene called me. Didn’t she tell you?”

He blinked and pawed the air some more. “She must’ve forgot. She went to bed with cramps.” His eyes fixed on mine. We had that moment of understanding. Different kind from Jamie’s. “You didn’t see this,” Reese said, glancing at the ashtray in his hand. Sliding it behind his back.

“See what?” I said.

He smiled sheepishly. I headed for the door. The things I’d been privy to in people’s homes while fixing their plumbing and heating... If I was into extortion, I could set myself up for life.

Reese kicked through junk on the floor, following me, tucking in his shirt.

“I need to come back tomorrow and fix the wall,” I told him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll finish up.”

That’s what worried me. “I’ll come in the morning. I’ll drop by early —”

“I said I’d do it,” Reese snapped.

Okay. Fine. He sounded guilty. He should be. For not repairing that tub right in the first place.

Reese jammed on a pair of work boots and followed me out to the truck. The snow had stopped. White cake frosting coated on all the lawns up and down the block. The street was wet, slushy in spots.

“Thanks for coming, Mike, helping us out,” Reese said, hanging on the truck door as I slid Dad’s toolbox onto the front seat. Reese added, “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” I hopped inside.

Reese screwed up his face. Removing his wallet from his back pocket, he flipped it open and slid out five bills, which he handed to me. “Buy yourself a burger,” he said.

They were five one-dollar bills. I seethed inside. If Darryl had come over and spent three hours on a weeknight to fix their freaking down-stairs shower, Reese would’ve paid him a bundle. He would’ve had to pay Dad time and a half.

So what? There was satisfaction in a job well done. That’s what Dad used to say. “Baby, be proud of your work. It’ll be your life’s legacy. There’s satisfaction in a job —”

“Caught your game with Deighton,” Reese cut into my thoughts. He eased the door closed. “You picked off that runner at second like a pro. Man, what an arm.”

Deighton. From last week. “Yeah, too bad we lost by a run.” To Deighton, no less. The toilet team of the league. Gina had walked three in the seventh and we didn’t have time to recover.

“You’ll kill ’em next time.” Reese winked at me.

My throat constricted. Dad used to say that: “You’ll kill ’em next time, baby.” Used to wink at me too, the same way. He’d stand behind the bench and cheer me on, give me a thumbs-up, let me know he was there for me.

Reese opened his mouth to say something else, but I gunned the motor. When I peeled out, Reese had to spring back off the curb to avoid my splashback.

She’d left a message on the machine. “Call me.” That was it.

Under the thick glow of moonlight through the grimy kitchen window, I squinted at my Timex. 12:19. Too late to call anyone, even her. I still wasn’t tired. A charge of electricity streaked through my entire vascular system. I felt edgy, restless, a live wire. I needed to go somewhere, do something.

The water tower. Yeah. Why not?

I decided to walk. Run. Get the exercise, the release.

Even though the snowstorm was over, it was cold, my breath visible in the night air. The extension ladder was slippery. I had to take it slow. Nearing the top, I thought I saw a bat dart under the globe of the tank, but it could’ve been my imagination. All my senses were heightened tonight.

At my usual spot, I stood at the railing, checking out the state of Coalton. Asleep. Peaceful. Nel’s Tavern sign lit up. And the pink pig, of course. Over at Jamie’s, there was a light on. His bedroom light. He was such a night owl. What was he doing up? Chatting with Shane? Probably. Planning their tryst. For a moment, I envied Jamie. Envied them both. Then wondered what Jamie was getting himself into.

I could never talk to a stranger like that. Open myself up to someone I’d never met. It was hard enough being honest with Jamie. Give me flesh and blood. Give me human contact. Give me Xanadu.

Jamie’s back door swung out and a figure emerged. Him. He was wearing his CHS sweater and, as he crossed the yard, the Mylar in the cougar emblem caught the light. Was he practicing cheerleading? At this hour? I shouldn’t talk. How many nights had I gotten up at midnight, one AM, to do curls and crunches? Anything to get through the night, to ward off the nightmare. The recurring nightmare. Two years.

He launched himself onto his backyard trampoline and bounced to the middle. Instead of jumping, he sat down, lay flat on his back, his arms stretched out to the side.

I wondered if Jamie wanted a family, kids. If he’d even thought one day beyond getting laid. It’d be harder for him. Not impossible, though. Nothing was impossible.

Did I say that? No. Those weren’t my words. Not my philosophy of life. That was Dad.

He was wrong. A shadow of doubt clouded everything he’d ever said to me now. He was wrong about life. About living. What did he know about living?

My life’s legacy? Right, Dad. You didn’t leave me a legacy.
I
was your legacy. You left me.

“You should have stuck around, Pops. Should have seen the job I did tonight. Man, you’d have been proud.”

You taught me, Dad. You taught me everything I know.

How could you take it from me? The plumbing. The softball. The things I valued most, loved most. The one thing. You. Us. You and me together.

Our time. You ended it too soon, Dad. Too soon.

Chapter Eleven

I
lost track of time during my third circuit. I was testing myself. Seeing how much I could take. Armie was always after me to slow down. Lighter weights, he said, slower reps would give me a better workout. He said I shouldn’t be working out so much. He said I shouldn’t work out at all during softball season.

Armie talked too much.

I was only five minutes late to class, but I got the evil eye from Mrs. Stargell. She had to stop her lesson to erase the absent mark from my name in the roll book. Sorry, I sent her a silent apology. Couldn’t be helped.

I headed for my seat and skidded to a stop. Bailey was in it. Xanadu had laid claim to his desk, in front, and she gave me a look like, Wow, where are you going to sit?

Good question. Shawnee was back, so the only vacant desk was clear over by the broom closet. There was a reason that desk was empty. It was smaller than the others, shrimp-size, a castoff from the elementary school. I felt like a castoff myself, wedging through the rows, squeezing into the narrow seat.