The Free Page 5

  In the hotel parking lot he tried to kiss her as he unlocked the truck door, but it was short and awkward. As they left, he drove hunched over the steering wheel, trying to think of something to say.

  “Maybe we could go see a movie tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I had a great time tonight,” Pauline said back to him. “But if I had to choose between running a marathon and having a boyfriend I’d be running right now.”

  Ford laughed. “If you don’t want a boyfriend then I’m your man ’cause I’m only in this area for a week more. After that we’re heading to Utah.”

  “What’s in Utah?” she said.

  “A bridge project in Salt Lake City.”

  Pauline pointed to a mini-mart coming into view. “See that 7-Eleven up there?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I’ll get out there.”

  Ford’s heart sank. He didn’t know what to think. He parked the truck in front of the empty store and turned the engine off. “Do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you don’t want me to take you home?”

  “No,” she said. “I have to pick up a couple things so I figured I could just walk from here. My place is right around the corner.”

  “Did I do something wrong tonight?”

  “No,” Pauline said and put her hand on his arm. “I had a great time. I really did.”

  “I know I might seem lonely. I am a bit I guess. Maybe that bothered you.”

  “It didn’t bother me.”

  “Did I do something wrong while we were in the sack?”

  “No,” she said and smiled. “I liked that part.”

  “Would it be alright if I called you?”

  “How about I call you? I’ll get your number from Cheryl,” she said and then got out of the truck and went inside the store. He watched her as she walked down an aisle, but then, not wanting to seem like he was staring, he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Pauline waited inside until he drove away. She bought an ice-cream sandwich and ate it while she walked down the sidewalk to her apartment. Part of her had wanted to stay in the room with him. To watch TV and order room service. Maybe to even sleep next to him. It had been years since she had fallen asleep next to anyone. She stopped on the sidewalk and finished the ice-cream sandwich and forced herself to stop thinking about him. She cut across a lawn and kept going. Her apartment complex was two miles away.

  When she woke the next afternoon she was still dressed in her clothes from the night before. The rabbit sat under the coffee table and the fading afternoon sun peered through her living-room window. In the kitchen she ate leftover Chinese food, took four ibuprofens, and called her father.

  “What are you doing today?” she said.

  “Nothing,” he coughed. She could hear the sound of the TV playing in the background and him rustling around on the cot.

  “I’m gonna come and get you in an hour, okay?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “We’re going to get pizza.”

  “Why?”

  “ ’Cause I’m in a good mood.”

  “I don’t like pizza.”

  “It’ll be like old times.”

  “I don’t know,” he sighed wearily.

  “I don’t want to argue. I have to be at work in three hours. I’ll come by and we’ll get pizza. It’ll be good for both of us to get out of the house.”

  “Goddamn it,” he yelled suddenly and slammed down the phone.

  She got up from the couch and took a shower. She cleaned the kitchen, did a load of laundry, and then drove to her father’s house. As she arrived, the old man stood outside waiting on the brown, frozen grass of his front yard.

  She pulled alongside him and stopped. “Have you been out here long?” she asked as he opened the door.

  He shook his head and sat in the passenger seat. “I didn’t mean to get angry,” he said.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “I should have let you know earlier. I know sometimes you’re not in the mood for pizza. I should have asked and not just told.”

  “Pizza’s alright,” he replied. He wore a down coat, a ski cap, and a red scarf Pauline had knitted for him when she was in high school. She took them through side streets until they came to the half-deserted downtown and parked in front of an old pizza parlor. They ordered at the counter and then sat in a booth, in silence, until a high-school girl came to them with a pizza and a pitcher of Coke.

  “I have some news,” she said and took a slice, put it on a plate, and handed it to him. “I’m gonna apply for a school nursing job again. There’s an opening for a nurse who handles both the elementary and middle school over on Fairview.”

  Her father began eating; he didn’t acknowledge her. He just looked around the restaurant. She poured them both sodas from the pitcher and took a slice for herself. There was a family seated across from them who had a crying baby. Her father stopped eating and looked over at them.

  “You’d think they could get it to shut up.”

  “They will,” said Pauline.

  He shook his head. “The sauce is too spicy.”

  “It’s been the same for twenty years. That’s why we always come here.”

  “They’ve changed it. I don’t know why they would, but they did.”

  “It’s the same.” Pauline refilled his glass with soda and then leaned back in the booth and undid the top button of her jeans. “Tomorrow I tell you I’m really gonna start working out.”

  “You are getting fat,” he said.

  “I know,” she said.

  He looked at the family with the baby again. The infant had quit crying. It was sleeping in its mother’s arms.

  “You should have had children by now,” he said and took another slice and put it on the plate in front of him and began eating it.

  She didn’t eat or say anything more to him after that. She just watched him take three more slices of pizza and drink two more glasses of soda. When he was finished he pushed the plate away and sat back. There was sauce and bits of crust on his face. He had spilled soda on his shirt and pants. He stared at the TV on the wall across from them.

  “Are you finished?” she asked.

  He nodded vaguely, still staring at the TV.

  “Then listen to me, buster.” She moved her hand in front of his face so he looked at her. “I’m not just threatening this, but if you say anything like that to me again you can walk home, and you can pay your own bills. You can live on the street, and I won’t care. You don’t tell me what to do. That’s the deal. That’s the only deal there will ever be for you and me. Besides telling you to take a shower and eat I leave you alone. When you start paying your own bills again you can tell me to lose weight and marry some dumb shit, but until then keep your mouth shut.” She got up, put on her coat, and left.

  Her father came out of the pizza parlor minutes later. He walked through the parking lot and nearly fell on a patch of ice. Her heart sank as she watched him from her car. The sky behind him grew black. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and the day seemed to be ending already. Inside the car he wouldn’t even look at her. He just stared out the window in silence. She drove him home and in front of his house parked and turned off the engine.

  “It sure looks like it’s gonna snow,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and finally looked at her. He put his hand on her arm.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “All in all I had a nice time. They have great soda. I love crushed ice. Plus it’s always dark in there.”

  “I’ll listen better.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just lay off my personal life. I never tell you to get a job or bring up the past, but you, you can’t help telling me what to do.”

  “I know,” he said and tears began falling down his face.

  “Don’t cry. Come on, I have to go to work.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said and began sobbing. He tried to say more but couldn’t.

  “It’s okay. I know you’re
sorry. Just make sure you keep the heat on in case things freeze. They say it’s really gonna dip down tonight. I know you hate to use the heater but we can’t have your pipes freeze. Uncle Jeff says it’s a miracle they haven’t already burst. Deal?”

  Her father nodded and opened the door and got out. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  7

  A girl with abscessed legs lay in a hospital bed staring at the wall. She was sixteen with short, badly cut blond hair. She was frail and underweight by twenty pounds, and it made her look much younger than she was. She had sad eyes that were set too close to her nose, and her skin was pearl white with no blemishes except for a single pimple on her chin. A teenage boy sat next to her in dirty, ripped jeans. He had on four shirts layered under a ragged black-leather jacket. His hair was greasy and matted and cut crudely, and his hands were covered in scabs and homemade tattoos. His fingernails were black with grease and dirt. He looked ill under the fluorescent lights: pale and tired, and his face was covered in acne.

  Pauline entered the room and introduced herself to the girl and the boy sitting next to her. But the girl didn’t acknowledge her, and the boy wouldn’t look at her directly.

  “Can you hear me, Jo?” Pauline said and moved to the side of the bed. She waved a hand in front of the girl’s face. “Are you able to talk? I’m your swing-shift nurse and I need to check your leg.”

  Pauline looked at the boy. “Has she spoken since she’s been here?”

  “She quit talking a month ago,” he said, still looking at the ground.

  “A month ago?”

  “For the most part.” He hunched over in the chair and began chewing his nails and spitting them on the ground in front of him.

  “What about her parents?”

  “I don’t know about them,” he said.

  “Where’s she living?”

  “We’re all living at a house outside of town.”

  The boy stood up and walked over to the girl. His pants sagged down showing filthy white underwear. Pauline could smell him as he went by. “Jo?” he said and coughed. “Say something. The lady wants to talk to you.” He shook her to get her attention, but the girl just stared at the wall.

  “See, I told you,” he said to Pauline.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Bob,” he said and sat back down.

  “Does the house you’re staying at have running water, Bob?”

  “No,” he said. “The water’s shut off.”

  “Well, somehow you need to clean up. Your friend is really sick. You smell. Your clothes smell. You should look in the mirror. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave and take a shower and wash your clothes before you come back and visit her. It’s for her safety and really for yours, too.”

  The boy kept his eyes on the ground. He kept chewing on his nails, and then without saying anything more got up and left. Pauline watched him as he walked out and then looked at the girl. “Jo, I have to inspect the bandages. If you don’t want to talk that’s fine. If anything hurts just tap me on the arm, alright?” She waited a moment but the girl kept her eyes trained on the wall, so Pauline pulled back the bed sheet and blanket. She lifted the bandages covering the thighs of the girl’s wire-thin legs.

  “Does he always smell that bad?” Pauline asked.

  “Yes,” the girl whispered faintly. “He won’t take a shower even when there is hot water.”

  “Ha, I knew you could talk,” she said and smiled at the girl. “Your bandages look good. I’ll repack them after dinner, okay?”

  Jo nodded.

  “Have you had them packed before?”

  “No.”

  “How are you feeling otherwise?”

  “I’m tired.”

  “How’s your pain?”

  “It’s alright.”

  “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how do you feel?”

  “About a three. I just feel like sleeping.”

  “Good, ’cause that’s what you’re supposed to be doing. But you also have to eat. They say you’ve haven’t eaten anything since you’ve been here.”

  “I haven’t been here that long.”

  “Is it the food?”

  “It’s not that. I’ll start eating.”

  “Think about what sounds good and tell me. We’ll try to get that, alright? Sometimes you just need to get your appetite started.”

  “Okay,” Jo said.

  Pauline charted on the computer in the corner of the room and left. In the hallway she looked at her watch and walked to room 9.

  “Are you really awake, buster?” she said, looking at Leroy Kervin. His eyes were open, but only half of his pupils were showing. The rest were rolled back in his head. His hair was combed away from the yellowing welt on his forehead. The cut on his lip was healing, and the swelling had gone down. She went to the computer in the corner of the room, looked at his chart, and then checked his chest tubes, the drainage canister on the floor, and his medication and IV drip. She charted her visit and left.

  Jeanette found her clothes in the corner of the room. Leroy looked at her legs and saw the mark. Her right foot and calf were dark green and purple and black.

  “Now you know,” she said.

  “I don’t care about that,” he said.

  “Yeah you do. Everybody does.”

  “You’re wrong,” he wheezed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure.” He stood up slowly. He leaned against the living-room wall and watched her put on her underwear and bra, her black tights and pants and shirt.

  “I’ve never told anyone I had it,” she said. “How would they find out?”

  Leroy shook his head and tried to catch his breath.

  “Maybe someone from work saw it,” she said. “But how could they? I always wear tights under my pants no matter where I go. Even if I just go to the store. There’s no way they could see. And I never go out anymore, never.”

  “Maybe they see you in here somehow?” Leroy said.

  “Do you think so?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have it?”

  “I never got the shot.”

  “How did you get away with that?” she said and found her shoes. She sat on a chair in the kitchen and began to put them on.

  “They just screwed up. They missed me. I’m from a small town,” he said and staggered to the kitchen table and sat across from her. Sweat leaked down his forehead and his breath was short and pained. “Everything’s more ramshackle in a small town. Like I told you earlier, my uncle was in Vietnam, and while he was there he said he saw and did unforgivable things, and those things scarred his heart. He said his heart had so many scars on it that it was hard to breathe. That from the moment he woke he could feel the scars trying to stop the air coming in. For years he was drowning in that. When they developed the test they told us it was to weed out unfit soldiers, to save those kinds of soldiers like my uncle who were ruined by war. Not everyone was meant to be a soldier and not everyone is ruined by war. They said the test would save those people who would be forever scarred by it. They’d get the injection and if the mark appeared then they wouldn’t have to go into combat. They would be free from it. But then the wars kept going and people started protesting. So they began testing more and more people, and where we lived they tested the entire town. Now we know it’s a test to weed out those who think from those who are soldiers. Those who are easy to manipulate and those who aren’t. A bad citizen from a good citizen. But back then we weren’t sure what they were doing. We just thought they were trying to do something good.”

  “That’s the way it was here, too,” said Jeanette. “At first it was just for people joining the army and then they added all men from eighteen to fifty and then they added all women from eighteen to fifty and then it was everyone. They would give them the shot and if they got the mark t
hey’d take them away and no one would ever see them again. Is that what happened to your uncle?”

  Leroy nodded and paused for a long time. “When my uncle got back from Vietnam he worked at a lumber mill, but then they laid everyone off and closed it. The jobs dried up. They went to foreign ships off the coast that had mills onboard and they would buy our trees and sell the lumber back to us. So he came to live at our place. My mom got him a job as a stocker at the grocery store she worked at. He got on the graveyard shift, he moved out of the cabin he was living in, and he and my mom bought a camping trailer and moved it to our backyard. He lived in that. He didn’t want to live in the house; he wanted to be alone. As the years passed he slowly faded away. He disappeared right in front of us and there was nothing we could really do . . . When he got the shot his foot turned instantly. I was with him. I was supposed to get the shot, too, but somehow they forgot about me. I don’t know why, but they did. They’d made up a sort of clinic in the school gym. The walls of the rooms were sheets. Only white sheets separating everybody in town. A man in a doctor’s coat and a soldier came in and they gave my uncle the shot in his arm. They told him to take off his shoes and socks, and then they left the room. Within a minute his left foot looked completely bruised. It looked like someone had beaten it. Then a different doctor and a different soldier came back. They told me to take off my shoes and socks and I did. They looked over my feet and gave me a pass notice. Then they told my uncle to put on his shoes and they took him away. He was crying in relief. He thought they were going to help him. That they would save him. Save him from the way he was drowning. He’d been having such a hard time. I said I would wait for him and I sat outside in his car all night but he never came out. The next morning I went to them and asked about my uncle and they said they didn’t have any record of him. No record at all. He went there for help and they made him disappear.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too . . . How did it happen to you?”

  “My dad took the test when it first came out, when it was voluntary. My dad is very patriotic. He believes everything they say and above all he hates people who are weak. When he passed, he came home and made my mother and me go. This is before we even had to, before everyone was forced to. So we went down there and he sat in the room with us and didn’t say a word. My mother was really scared, ’cause she’d heard stories and I was crying, holding on to her. They had taken over part of a community college and set up a testing center. We both got the shot but nothing happened. It was only later, months later, that my foot got the mark. Now it keeps growing. Pretty soon it’ll be over my whole body.”