The Good Wife (28 page)
Authors: Stewart O'Nan
SHE STAYS AT THE ECONO LODGE ON THE GRUNGY EDGE OF MALONE and wakes up early so she can be there when he’s released. The coordinator told her sometime between seven and eight. They try to get people out before the day’s in full swing; they don’t like to disrupt the routine. Patty gets up at five in the cold box of the motel room to put herself together and checks out while it’s still night outside. In the backseat she has a bag of new clothes for him in case he wants to change, a grocery bag of snacks, a fresh hardpack of Marlboros, and a cooler she just restocked from the ice machine. It’s like they’re going on a road trip.
She’s already on the right side of town. She drives north, skirting the blue runway lights of the airport. The shifts must have just changed at the prisons, because there’s traffic coming the other way. It’s not far and she’s early, so she stops at the mini-mart for a coffee, then sets up by the main gate.
It’s strange not checking in at the trailer—closed, since it’s a weekday. Hers is the only car there, a little creepy, with the blinding lights on either side of the gate throwing shadows across the lot. She keeps her parking lights on and the defrost on low so she can see, though there’s no way he could sneak by her. Slowly the sky brightens, revealing the motion detectors and cameras poking over the fence. At the bottom the grass is frosted a solid white. The dash clock passes seven, seven-oh-five. In the mirror the sun’s coming
up over the mountains, rising like a balloon. Once it clears the tree line, the floodlights inside click off. The coordinator did say the front gate; Patty has the letter with her but doesn’t have to check it. She expects she’ll have to wait till eight o’clock, maybe later—legally they can keep him till midnight tonight—and then she sees two figures approaching the fence, one in front of the other.
up over the mountains, rising like a balloon. Once it clears the tree line, the floodlights inside click off. The coordinator did say the front gate; Patty has the letter with her but doesn’t have to check it. She expects she’ll have to wait till eight o’clock, maybe later—legally they can keep him till midnight tonight—and then she sees two figures approaching the fence, one in front of the other.
It’s him. She can tell by the way he walks, rocking slightly forward as if he’s watching his feet. She forgets the car’s on and jumps out, the open-door signal dinging, then silenced as she shuts it behind her and heads for the fence. Tommy spots her and waves.
He’s carrying a cardboard box and wearing the lined army jacket she bought from a catalog. Closer, she can see he’s got normal khakis on, but still has his chunky black brogans. “Your shoes!” she jokes, pointing through the fence, but he just smiles and shrugs, who cares. She doesn’t even feel the cold as she follows along outside.
She stops when they stop. He stands aside as the C.O. cracks the lock and pushes the chain-link door open for him. Tommy steps over the threshold, bends to drop the box on the ground, and then she’s in his arms and there’s nothing at all between them.
He picks up the box again, and she takes his elbow, bumping against him as they cross the lot. She can’t stop looking at him. She wishes she’d brought a camera.
“Nice car,” he says, but then she has to help him push the seat all the way back and recline it a notch so his head’s not touching the ceiling.
For a minute they kiss like kids parking, then he says, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Put your seatbelt on.”
“Why, are we going to have an accident?”
“We’re not getting a ticket your first day out.”
He clicks it closed, then says “Whoa” and braces a hand on
the dash as she swings the Subaru over the empty spaces. “Good thing I’ve got my belt on.”
the dash as she swings the Subaru over the empty spaces. “Good thing I’ve got my belt on.”
She thumbs at the bags and the cooler in back, asks if he wants a coffee from the mini-mart. No, he just wants to go. The road’s clear, the day’s bright, and she shifts into fifth.
“How fast are you going?” he asks.
“Sixty.”
“It feels like a hundred.”
“Want me to slow down?”
“No,” he says, but she eases off.
He keeps a hand on her leg as he smokes, watching the lakes and hillsides flash by. He seems especially interested in the few ratty asbestos-shingled houses and boarded-up hunting camps, chains slung across their driveways. He sits up and follows them as they pass, as if he knows the owners.
The first town they go through is Bellmont Center, a bare crossroads where the one gas station is pumpless and dark. A rotting barn leans in a field. Across the road sits an abandoned trailer, its windows broken out, curtains fluttering.
“Nice,” Tommy says.
Patty laughs. “Just wait. We’re not even to the good part yet.”
The only way back to the interstate takes them straight through Dannemora, right by Clinton. She apologizes in advance. As they ride along the massive white wall, he’s on the side away from it and ducks down to get a better look. The visitors’ center is busy. There are buses, even on a weekday.
“It’s hard to believe,” he says.
“What?”
“It’s even uglier on the outside.”
Dannemora’s not that big. The speed limit changes at the edge of town and they put Clinton behind them. Up ahead is the collection
of chain-saw bears that marks the taxidermy shop. “Fins, Feathers and Fur,” Tommy reads off the hand-carved sign she’s seen a hundred times.
of chain-saw bears that marks the taxidermy shop. “Fins, Feathers and Fur,” Tommy reads off the hand-carved sign she’s seen a hundred times.
“You know what’s funny,” he asks.
“What?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“I know,” Patty says. “1 was the same way. The bed being a rock didn’t help.”
“I haven’t slept right since I got the letter.”
“You’ll sleep tonight,” Patty promises. “I’ll make sure.”
All the talk about sleep must be getting to her, because once they’re on the Northway she feels tired. She needs something to eat, and she could use a bathroom. He says he’s already had breakfast but might have a coffee. She’s lucky she knows the road. There’s a McDonald’s in Peru; after that there’s nothing for miles.
“It’s on me,” Tommy says, showing her the two twenties the state gave him. “I’m loaded.”
It’s a nice surprise. She can’t remember the last time someone paid for her.
As they’re walking across the lot, a black Lincoln Navigator with tinted windows and gold rims rolls past, the bass from a rap song vibrating the air. Tommy watches it an extra second. “I’ve seen them on TV,” he says, “but that thing’s huge.” And all she can say is “Yep.”
He makes a point of opening the door for her. It’s rush hour and loud inside, people three deep at the counter, amplified voices from the drive-thru mixing with piped-in pop.
“I’m going to use the restroom first,” she tells him.
“I should too,” he says, and follows her down the windowless hall.
She’s always taken longer than him. She expects him to be
scanning the menu when she comes out, but he’s waiting for her in the hall like Casey used to.
scanning the menu when she comes out, but he’s waiting for her in the hall like Casey used to.
When they join the crowd out front, they’re displayed on a security monitor to the side—and that’s the camera they can see. Behind them, a dark globe watches from the drop ceiling. He sticks close to her the whole time, and she can’t blame him. The place must seem strange and new, with its flat-screen menu, the last panel flashing a commercial for the new Harry Potter movie. Half the guys in line are on their way to work, wearing jeans and flannel shirts and Timberlands, hooded sweatshirts and field jackets. Tommy could almost fit in except for the shoes.
“You want something besides coffee?” she asks, but he’s still trying to decipher the menu, as if there are too many choices. “I’m having a sausage biscuit with egg.”
“That sounds good,” he says.
He lets her order everything, hanging back while she returns the server’s volley of questions: medium, cream and sugar, to go. He gives her the money to pay and they wait for the sandwiches to come out, stand marooned on the far side of the register before they finally make their escape, and then outside Tommy almost gets run over when he steps in front of a mail jeep.
“Are you all right?” she asks him in the car.
“Just out of practice, I guess,” he says, but she can see he’s embarrassed.
She can eat and drive at the same time, but she’s used to having the passenger seat for a table. She waits till they’re cruising on the interstate to take her first bite. By then Tommy’s almost done with his, cheeks stuffed, nodding at how good it is. When she can’t finish hers, he wolfs it down.
“Am I nuts,” he asks, “or is this coffee really good?”
“It’s pretty good,” she admits.
“I think I ate too fast,” he announces a few miles down the road. When she looks over, he’s grimacing, holding a hand to his stomach. She should have realized, he’s used to oatmeal.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“No, but if you see a rest area, 1 could use one.”
She speeds up to her normal ten miles above the limit, scanning the median for cops. It’s the end of the month, and some of the towns around here balance their budgets with tickets.
“How are you doing there?” she asks.
“I’m all right for now.”
“Another five minutes and we’ll be there.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She’s been through the same thing with Casey, she’s even done the same thing herself on this road, the long exits making her hold it. The whole thing would be funny if it wasn’t for the timing.
There’s the sign advertising the rest area ahead, and less than a minute later the area itself, a low concrete block building and some picnic tables, a couple raccoon-proof trash cans. She runs the car all the way up to the handicapped spaces and drops him off before finding a spot.
She doesn’t need to go, and sits there with the engine off, wondering what’s in the box in the backseat. Pictures, she expects. She hopes he’s kept her letters, though the box doesn’t look big enough. His take up the whole top of her closet, a wall of shoeboxes.
She’s debating whether she should go in and see if he’s all right when he comes out. He stops by the water fountain to take a look at the laminated map on the wall, then steps back to gawk at the little satellite dish on the corner of the roof. She wants to call to him to get back in the car, as if he’s in danger just standing there. She doesn’t know what she’s afraid of—that he won’t know what to do if a stranger approaches him. The parole officer who did their home
visit told her it wouldn’t be easy for someone who’d been away for so long, to not expect too much from him at first. She resented the way the man talked about Tommy, as if she didn’t know him at all. The guy had never met Tommy in his life, and here he was trying to tell her what he was going to be like. She listened to him and let him leave her a folder, she even shook his hand at the door, but she didn’t believe a word he said. Now she wonders if she was wrong.
visit told her it wouldn’t be easy for someone who’d been away for so long, to not expect too much from him at first. She resented the way the man talked about Tommy, as if she didn’t know him at all. The guy had never met Tommy in his life, and here he was trying to tell her what he was going to be like. She listened to him and let him leave her a folder, she even shook his hand at the door, but she didn’t believe a word he said. Now she wonders if she was wrong.
He bangs his head as he gets in.
“God,” he says, rubbing it, “can they make this car any smaller?”
She doesn’t tell him it’s regular-size, just asks him if he’s all right.
“The bathrooms haven’t changed,” he says, “that’s for sure.”
With Casey she’d joke and ask if everything came out all right, but she’s afraid he may be sensitive.
After they get going again, she tells him her mother’s staying the night at Eileen’s.
“Get out,” he says.
“I didn’t even have to ask.”
“That’s pretty nice of her.”
“Just make sure you thank her,” Patty says.
“I will.” He’s overwhelmed by it, because a few minutes later, out of nowhere, he says, “Wow.”
“She’s done a lot for us,” she says.
“I know,” he says, just as serious.
With so many miles alone together, they can’t avoid the chewedon topic of finding their own place. For everything her mother’s done for them, Tommy doesn’t want to live with her, and Patty can understand that. She’s had fantasies of renting their old house on Spaulding Hill, as if they can start all over again. She’s got enough money to go almost anywhere in the county, but her mother’s stood by them for so long. Patty can’t abandon her. She’s in her late
seventies, and doesn’t drive after dark. She jokes that pretty soon Patty’s going to have to get her into Riverview, but really she’s terrified of the idea. Maybe if they could find someplace close by.
seventies, and doesn’t drive after dark. She jokes that pretty soon Patty’s going to have to get her into Riverview, but really she’s terrified of the idea. Maybe if they could find someplace close by.
Near Schroon Lake, they’re in the middle of discussing exactly what counts as close when—too late—she sees the cop hiding behind the rocks in the median. They’re flying downhill and in her concentration on Tommy’s argument she’s let the needle creep up to eighty.
“Fuck,” she says, and takes her foot off the gas. They’re already in the right lane, so there’s nowhere to go. She doesn’t turn her head to look at the mirror, just flicks her eyes to the side. Has he moved? All she can think of is the cop looking in the window and noticing Tommy’s shoes.
“How fast were you going?” Tommy asks.
“Fast enough.”
She risks a look, turning her head an inch, and finds the cruiser, still lurking in the median.
“He’s just sitting there,” she says.
“Don’t tell me we actually caught a break.”
It does feel like luck. She doesn’t push it. They’re done with the fast part of the Northway anyway, hitting local traffic around Glens Falls and down through Saratoga Springs. They come into Albany around lunchtime, passing within a few miles of Troy, and Rensselaer. Tommy’s never seen the college; if they had more time, she’d detour across the river and show him Casey’s old dorm. As it is, she just lets the sign float by.
Other books
Evidence of Desire: Hero Series 3 by Monique Lamont, Yvette Hines
Kalpana's Dream by Judith Clarke
Doomstalker by Glen Cook
The Perfect Landscape by Sigurðardóttir, Ragna
Recuerdos prestados by Cecelia Ahern
Yo mato by Giorgio Faletti
Bachelor (Rixton Falls #2) by Winter Renshaw
Milk-Blood by Mark Matthews
The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI by Samantha Sabian
Fall From Grace by David Ashton