The Cold Kiss (2 page)

2

I was pissing on either Cat Stevens or Osama bin Laden, it was hard to tell. The photo on the urinal filter was old and faded and all I could see was the beard.

I decided it really didn’t matter.

The man from the lunch counter was shuffling around in one of the stalls. He wasn’t coughing like before, but I could hear him breathing. Obviously, he wasn’t dead, so I didn’t see the point in checking.

I zipped up and walked over to the sink. The light above the mirror was sharp and white and turned my reflection a cold gray. I stared into the glass and examined the dark circles under my eyes, then I reached for the faucet and stopped.

There was blood in the sink, and it was fresh.

I glanced back at the stall then grabbed a paper towel from a stack on the counter and used it to turn on the faucet. The soap dispenser was empty, so I ran my hands under the water for a long time. When I finished, I used another paper towel to shut the faucet off.

The man in the stall coughed.

I looked down at the blood, almost black under the cold white light, and thought about Sara’s grandfather.

I wanted to leave.

I took a fresh paper towel and dried my hands then opened the door leading back into the diner. All I had to do was walk out, but something wouldn’t let me go.

I stood there for a long time, trying to decide.

Eventually, I let the door close, then I walked back to the stall and knocked.

The movement inside stopped.

I waited for the man to say something. When he didn’t, I said, “None of my business, but I wanted to see if you were okay. That cough sounds pretty bad.”

Silence.

I stood, listening to the echo of the pipes behind the tile walls, then stepped away. I was about to leave when I heard the latch slide and saw the stall door inch open.

The man’s face appeared, colorless and coated with sweat. He looked from me to the door then back.

“What did you say?”

I started to explain about Sara and how she’d asked me to check on him, but his eyes kept moving from me to the door, and I could tell he wasn’t listening. Eventually, he turned and grabbed his backpack and slipped it over his shoulder then pushed past me toward the sink.

The man wasn’t tall, but his shoulders were wide and strong. He had a thick pink scar that started on his neck then snaked down and disappeared under the back of his shirt.

I looked in the stall. There was blood on the toilet and the white tile floor, more than a little.

“We heard you coughing,” I said. “We wanted to make sure you were—”

“Fuck.”

The man slapped the empty soap dispenser with his palm, then again, this time hard enough to crack the plastic. He leaned forward on the counter and lowered his head. His shoulders sagged, and I could see them move with his breath. Eventually, he straightened and went back to rinsing his hands.

“Anyone else come in while I’ve been back here?”

I looked around the bathroom. I didn’t know what he meant, and I stammered over my words.

“In the diner?” His voice was slow and harsh. “Has anyone else come in, sat down, ordered coffee, maybe a fucking sandwich?”

“No,” I said. “No one else is out there.”

The man leaned forward and splashed water on his face. When he looked up, I saw his reflection in the mirror.

Under that light, he was a corpse.

“That’s good.” He reached for the paper towels on the counter and ran them over his face and hands, watching me in the mirror. “What the hell happened to you?”

I didn’t say anything.

The man smiled. “You look like you’ve been through the grinder.”

I ignored him. “So, you going to be okay?”

The man shook his head, then laughed under his breath. “You her little errand boy?”

“What?”

“Your girl out there, the brunette.” He motioned toward the dining room. “She send you back here to check up on me?”

“We just thought—”

“Man, I bet you do everything she tells you to do, don’t you?” He paused. “I don’t blame you. I noticed her when you two walked in. She’s a tight little thing. And with the way you look, I can see why you want to keep her happy.”

I held up my hands. “Just trying to be friendly, that’s all.”

The man crumpled the paper towels and tossed them into the trash then turned and looked at me.

I fought the urge to step back.

“Well, don’t,” he said. “I don’t need new friends.”

“My mistake.”

“That’s right, it was, so when you report back to your girl out there, you tell her I’m fine and then you tell her to mind her own fucking business.”

He stared at me, and I did my best not to blink.

It didn’t work.

The man shouldered his backpack then brushed past me, out of the men’s room and into the diner.

I stood for a while, staring at the closed door, not sure what to do next. I told myself not to let it bother me, but I couldn’t help it. If that was what I got for trying to be nice, then lesson learned.

Before I left, I went back to the stall and took a closer look at all the blood on the floor. I didn’t know what was wrong with the guy, but it was obvious that pretty soon there was going to be one less asshole in the world.

That was good enough for me.

When I came out of the bathroom, the man was gone. Sara was sitting in the booth. She stared at me as I got closer, waiting.

“He’s fine,” I said.

“That’s it?”

“What else do you want?” I picked up the check and said, “We still need gas. You ready to go?”

“Did he say anything at all?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Anything. He ran out of here in a hurry. You weren’t nasty to him, were you?”

I looked out the window at the parking lot. There were one or two cars out there, but I didn’t see him around any of them and that was just fine.

“I asked if he was okay, and he said he was.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Sara stared at me. “You’re not telling me something.”

“I’m telling you what he said. Now we need to get going if we want to stay ahead of that storm, unless you want to spend the night in this diner.”

Sara frowned then slid out of the booth and started back toward the bathrooms. “I’ll meet you out front,” she said. “But we’re not through talking about this. You’re hiding something from me, and I can tell. You’re a shitty liar.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

She didn’t say anything else, just kept walking.

I stood at the table and watched her go.

Sara wasn’t a beauty, at least not in a movie star sort of way, but watching her walk made me ache inside.

It was like watching something dirty.

Everything slid just right.

Once she was gone I counted out enough money to cover the bill and a small tip, then I dropped it on the table. I picked up my coffee cup and drank the last cold bit then stared out the window at the storm coming in over the empty fields lining the highway.

I thought again about turning back to I-80, but pushed the idea away. The storm was moving fast and I didn’t want to take the chance of getting stuck. Our only option was to keep moving. We could still make it if we hurried.

As I was leaving, the waitress came out of the kitchen and thanked me. “You two be safe out there,” she said.

I told her we’d try.

3

I watched the numbers on the gas pump roll by for a long time. It was depressing, and when I’d had enough I turned away and stared out across the parking lot toward the empty highway and the swirling snow.

The sky to the north was a black and gray mass, pulsing like something alive. It was getting closer, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The longer I stared, the more my mind let go and twisted the clouds. Soon I was seeing shapes and faces moving behind the storm.

It wasn’t a good sign.

Usually, that detached feeling was followed by blinding headaches, but since I’d already taken more of my pills than I should have, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about this time.

I closed my eyes and tried my best to relax. I told myself I was just tired from the road, and that seemed to help. When I opened my eyes again, the storm was just a storm. Beautiful and cold.

“Hey, kid.”

I turned around, fast.

The man from the lunch counter held up his hands and smiled. “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I told him he didn’t, but my voice cracked when I spoke. I cursed myself under my breath.

He came around the car to where I was standing. He had on a thick black winter coat with a fur-lined hood, but when he spoke I could still hear the shiver in his voice.

“Sylvester White,” he said. “Call me Syl.”

He held out his hand.

I shook it. “Nate.”

“Listen, Nate. I want to apologize for being such a prick in there. I’ve had a bad run of luck and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I had no right to do that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about it, kid. I’m trying to make it right. I don’t like acting that way. It makes me look like an asshole.”

I didn’t argue.

Syl crossed his arms over his chest and said, “It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Being from Minnesota, I didn’t think it was too bad, but I kept that to myself. Instead, I motioned toward the storm and said, “Looks like it’s gonna get worse.”

Syl looked off to the north and I noticed something change in his eyes. It was like he was seeing the storm for the first time. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he turned and pointed to a white Cadillac parked on the side of the building.

“Piece of shit died on me when I pulled in,” he said. “I was hoping to get to Omaha, but now it looks like I’m stuck out here until all this blows over.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

The gas clicked off and I replaced the nozzle on the pump and the cap on the tank then looked past Syl toward the diner.

Sara was still inside.

“Where’s your girl?”

“Bathroom,” I said. “Long drive.”

“Where you two heading?”

“Reno.”

Syl made a warm sound and smiled. “My second home. Chicago’s first, but if I had my way, I’d be in the desert.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You got family out there?”

“Cousin.” I thought about saying more, but I didn’t.

A moment later, the door to the diner opened and Sara came out into the snow. She closed her coat tight around her chest then started across the parking lot toward the car.

“There she is,” I said.

Syl looked then turned back to me. “Listen, kid. I know I didn’t make the best first impression, and normally I’d never ask, but with the storm coming and since you’re going that way, how about dropping me off in Omaha?”

I started to say no, but he stopped me.

“The airport would be great, but anywhere in the city is fine, a hotel or a bar. Someplace I can get a cab.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“I’d pay you, of course. Let’s say three hundred dollars?” Sara came around the passenger side and said, “What about three hundred dollars?”

Syl looked at her and smiled, big and welcoming. The change was dramatic and seamless, like it’d been rehearsed.

A warning light flashed in the back of my mind.

Syl held his hand out to Sara and introduced himself.

Sara shook it and smiled back.

“I was talking to Nate about a ride into Omaha.”

He told her about his car and about the storm then repeated his offer of three hundred dollars. He finished by taking a packed money clip from the front pocket of his pants and counting three one-hundred-dollar bills off the top. It didn’t make a dent in the size of the clip.

“What do you guys say?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

Syl turned toward me. Behind him I saw Sara’s eyes get big. She looked at me and mouthed the words “three hundred dollars.”

I frowned.

“You have to do what you feel comfortable doing. I understand that, but are you sure I can’t persuade you to help me out?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said.

“What if we make it five hundred?” He peeled two more bills off the top. “That’s a lot of money. Come on, kid, I’m desperate out here.”

Sara came around the car and grabbed my hand and squeezed, hard. Her eyes never left the money. “You’re not some crazy, psycho killer, are you, Syl? Tell the truth.”

Syl laughed, warm and gentle, and this time when the warning light flashed, it was blinding.

“I’m afraid those days are behind me, my dear.”

Sara looked up at me. “I don’t see the harm, do you?”

Syl held out the bills, and even though I knew the decision had been made, I stared at them for a while before taking them.

“Thanks, kids, I appreciate it.” He motioned toward the Cadillac and said, “Let me grab my suitcase and we’ll get moving before that storm catches us.”

Once he was gone, Sara turned and took the money from me. “Five hundred dollars.” She bounced as she spoke. “Oh man, can you believe this?”

I looked past her toward Syl. He was coughing and struggling to pull a black suitcase out of the Cadillac’s trunk. Eventually it came free and he started back, his face hidden in the shadows under his hood.

“I think our luck is changing.” Sara fanned the bills in front of her and smiled. “And we’re not even to Reno yet.”

She leaned into me and raised her face to mine. A single snowflake landed on her cheek and hung, delicate and white, before dissolving against her skin.

I reached up and wiped it away with my thumb.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked.

The wind picked up. Sara didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you sure you want to give him a ride?” I asked. “We don’t know anything about this guy and I don’t trust him. He could be—”

Sara shushed me.

“Kiss me,” she said.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” she said. “Kiss me, for good luck.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t work.”

“Of course it does,” she said. “It always works. Now kiss me.”

I stared at her for a moment longer, then bent and pressed my lips against hers.

It was a good kiss.

But it didn’t work.