The Free Page 9
“Mystery magic water,” Lowell said, grinning. “Ernie will mix it up when we run low. I swear by my nephew, so don’t worry.” He looked over and pointed his finger to him. “Just don’t bring any of your friends around.”
“I wouldn’t,” Ernie said.
“I’m serious.”
“I told you I won’t.”
“What days do you think you’ll come, Ernie?” asked Freddie.
“I don’t have classes on Thursday. I’ll come then for sure and then probably on Saturday. Uncle Lowell said not to bother you on Sunday ’cause it’s your day off.”
“We should have a harvest next couple weeks. You’ll see some money off that. Ernie will be the guy to pay you. You alright, Freddie? You look pretty rough, man. You losing weight?”
“I am a little bit.”
“And you’re going gray.”
“Yeah.”
“I guess we all go gray if we get lucky.”
“I have to admit I’m a little nervous, Lowell. I’ve never done anything illegal, not really.”
“If you weren’t nervous you’d be a dumb shit, and you ain’t a dumb shit, Freddie. You’re just broke. Look, when I get out, the first thing I’m going to do is get my ass over here and move these plants. I promise you that. Like I said, the risk ain’t much, Freddie, but there’s always a chance of something going wrong.”
“I know,” he said.
“We’re going to finish the lights and load in the rest of the stuff and then get some Mexican food. You should come.”
“I’d like to but I have to take a nap and then go to work.”
“Hanging out with the retards, huh?” Lowell asked.
Freddie nodded and walked back up the stairs. He put more wood on the fire and sat down, worried. He stared at the flames and looked at the fabric of the couch. He remembered when his parents bought it from a furniture store brand-new. His mother put a plastic slip over it and then a blanket. When she died, the first thing his father did was take all the plastic off the furniture and wear his shoes in the house.
The old couch had weathered he and his parents, a dog and two cats, and finally his youngest daughter, Ginnie. He thought of all the times she’d lain on the couch recovering from surgeries. How he’d light a fire and set the TV where she could see it. It would be weeks at a time she’d be there, nursed night and day by his wife and him.
“Now I’m gonna end up in prison,” he said to himself, and he said it over and over until he almost believed it as truth. He set the alarm on his phone and lay down on the couch and put the sleeping bag over him. He woke two hours later to hear Lowell and Ernie’s voices come up from the basement. He changed out of his paint store clothes and left for his shift at the group home.
The next evening when he got home, a beat-up white Volkswagen Bug was parked in the drive outside of his house. Inside he could hear Lowell’s voice drifting up from the basement vent. Again the house was warm. There was a fire in the fireplace and on the kitchen table were containers of Chinese food. In the basement eighty-five marijuana plants sat on different tables. The large plants were three feet tall and set in rows; the smaller ones were less than a foot and put in a separate makeshift room made out of black plastic and two-by-fours. There were little blue flags sticking out of some plants, yellow flags out of others, and orange out of others. The humidifier, two space heaters, and four fans were all running. Ernie stood trimming the plants with a small pair of scissors while Lowell wrote out instructions in a binder.
“Off work, huh, Freddie?” Lowell said when he saw him.
Freddie nodded.
“How was the Bible eater today?”
“He put in his two hours.”
Lowell shook his head and drank from a can of beer. “I got Chinese food upstairs and there’s a case of beer on your back porch.”
“It’s his last night,” Ernie said. “We’re gonna celebrate.”
“Ain’t much of a celebration,” Lowell said.
“At least you’ll get to see Uncle John,” Ernie said.
Lowell nodded. “I have an uncle, Ernie’s great uncle, who was convicted of armed robbery ten years ago. He’d be out by now, but they won’t let him ’cause he’s an Indian.”
“He used his dog as a getaway driver,” Ernie said to Freddie. “He’d park down the street from the store he was going to rob, and he’d leave his truck running and his dog would guard it.”
“That’s true,” Lowell said. “It wasn’t much of a plan.”
“What happened to the dog?” Freddie asked.
“That’s a good question,” Lowell said. “The white cops probably shot it.”
“No,” Ernie said and laughed. “My mom kept him. He would bark at shadows and at spots on the wall. And he would steal cubes of butter off the table. But he was a good dog except that he got hit by a car.”
“Well,” Freddie said. “I gotta take a nap before I go to work. Good luck, Lowell. I’m sure sorry you have to go.”
“It’s going to be okay, Freddie,” he said. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen. You’ll see. Ernie will take good care of things.”
“Okay,” Freddie said and went upstairs. He ate a plate of kung pao chicken from a container on the table, and went to the couch to take a nap before his shift. But as he lay there he could smell the plants leaking up through the vents. His mind raced with worry. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he changed his clothes, took another postcard from the stack he’d set on the kitchen table, and left.
He drove to the hospital and took the elevator to the sixth floor, and walked down the hall to Leroy’s room. But even as he entered he could see that Leroy’s condition had worsened. His face was more bloated. His skin was ashen.
Freddie took the postcard from his pocket. It was a 1960s vintage color illustration of a woman with wild blond hair standing on a cloud with a ray gun in her hand. Behind her, in the far distance, a rocket blasted toward the sky, and to the left of her a spaceship hovered. She was dressed in a skin-tight red-and-black jumpsuit. He put the card on the table next to the bed and left.
12
It was 5:00 PM when Pauline woke hungover on the couch to the phone ringing.
“I think I broke a tooth,” her father said.
“Which one?”
“One of the back ones.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Of course it hurts. It’s broken,” he said. “What should I do?”
“I don’t know,” she said and sat up. “Do you want me to come over?”
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“How much pain are you in?”
“Some,” he said.
“I’ll find a dentist and pick you up and we’ll get it pulled tonight.”
“I’m not going to a dentist tonight.”
“If your tooth hurts that bad we have to get you to the dentist.”
“I’m not sure if it hurts that bad.”
“Are you able to eat?”
“Not really.”
“How’s your grill?”
“I don’t think you can barbecue in the cold.”
“You can,” she said. She got up off the couch. She walked into her bedroom and began changing her clothes. “How about a steak dinner?”
“Tonight?” he asked.
“I have the night off. Steak is your favorite, isn’t it?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a steak.”
“I think since your birthday.”
“You’re right, it was then,” he said. “That sounds good, a steak.”
“But wait,” she said. “I’m an idiot. I forgot about your tooth. Maybe steak would be too much.” He paused for a long time and she brushed her teeth and went to the toilet.
“Are you alright?” she said finally.
“I was just checking my tooth. I don’t think it’s broken. Maybe I just have a cavity. I bet it’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think
it was just a nerve or something but now it doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Good,” she said. “I’ll be there after I go to the store.”
“Alright.”
“But listen. I want you to clean the kitchen and the bathroom. You have exactly one hour before I get there with the bag of groceries. If you haven’t cleaned both I’m walking right back out the door and going home.”
“Jesus!” he cried.
“What does that mean?”
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Good,” she said and hung up.
She arrived an hour later to the house dark and cold. The TV was on and her father was on the cot under the sleeping bag and electric blanket. She turned on the lights and walked into the kitchen. The sink was filled with dirty bowls and spoons. The counter was littered with a dozen empty soup cans and an empty cracker box.
She set the groceries on the kitchen table, took a bottle of wine from the bag, and opened it. She took a clean milk glass from the cupboard and filled it half full, and went into the living room and turned on the heat. She took off her coat and set it on the couch and went back to the kitchen and began cleaning. When the dishes were done, she cleaned the counters and took out the trash. She put two potatoes in the oven, made a salad, and walked to the living room and sat down on the couch.
“Where are your glasses?”
“I can’t find them,” he said. “I can see the TV alright without them.”
“What are you watching?”
“It’s one with Lee Marvin.”
“You still like old movies, huh?”
He nodded.
She sat with him until a commercial came on, and then went to his bedroom. She stripped the sheets and blanket from the bed and put them in the washing machine. The bathroom was as it always was. The toilet seat and the floor around it were covered in dried urine. There were empty toilet paper rolls and two moldy towels along with a can of shaving cream in the bathtub. An empty tube of toothpaste, a broken bar of soap, and a disposable razor sat in the sink.
She walked back to the kitchen and poured more wine in her glass, drank half of it, and went back to the bathroom and cleaned it. She took the vacuum from the closet and ran it over the bedroom and the hallway. She waited until there was a commercial on the TV, and then ran it around him and his cot. When she was finished, she filled her glass with more wine and sat down and looked at the TV.
“Okay, buster, is the movie over?”
“It just finished,” he said.
“Then you’re going to get up and take a shower. I put some clothes on the bed and I want you to wear them.”
“Right now?”
“Of course right now,” she said. “I’m getting hungry.”
“I don’t want to take a shower.”
“Get up, old man,” she said. “That’s an order.”
Slowly he hauled himself off the cot and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom.
Under the back porch awning she lit the propane barbecue, and then set the kitchen table and turned on the radio. When her father came out, he was dressed in tan pants and a navy-blue sweater. His hair was combed and he was clean-shaven.
“You look good,” she said.
“I feel good,” he said and sat down and looked at the bottle. “How about a glass of wine?”
“You know you’re not supposed to drink with your medication.”
“I know,” he said. “Just a half of a glass.”
“Alright,” she said. She went to the cupboard and took a small glass and poured him a drink. She leaned against the counter.
“Here’s the plan. The steaks are almost done, and then we’re going to eat. I brought ice cream for dessert and then we’re going to watch a movie I pick. Then I’m going to finish the laundry and make the bed and I’m going to spend the night.”
“You’re going to spend the night?”
“I feel like acting like a family tonight.”
“I’m glad you’re staying,” he said.
“Good.”
His wineglass was empty and he looked at it.
“No more,” she said.
“Just one more. I’ll be fine with one more.”
“Don’t fall apart on me, deal?”
“Okay,” he said and she filled his glass.
They ate dinner at the kitchen table, and then she made the bed and folded his laundry. She opened another bottle of wine and he ate a bowl of ice cream before falling asleep as they watched TV.
When she woke the next morning it was snowing and her father was in the kitchen. He had made coffee and was cooking eggs. The radio was playing and the heat was still on. His hair was combed and he was dressed in the same tan pants and blue sweater.
“Thank you,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.
There were tears welled in his eyes. His face began twitching and he coughed to clear his throat. “I love you so much,” he said to her. He coughed again, poured her a cup of coffee, and tears streamed down his face. He dished out scrambled eggs onto a plate next to a half-dozen saltines and some chopped iceberg lettuce, and they sat down and ate.
It was past noon and snowing in flurries when she left his house. She was driving toward her apartment when she turned around and headed for the outskirts of town. She parked in front of a duplex in a subdivision near the town’s only golf course and knocked on the door twice. When no one answered, she let herself in with a key. She called Cheryl’s name as she walked through the house until she came to a bedroom and knocked on the door.
“Are you alone?” she asked and slowly opened it.
“What time is it?” Cheryl moaned.
The room was dark except for a line of light coming between the curtains. The air was stale with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol and sleep. Pauline went inside. She opened the curtains and the light of day fell in.
“Twelve-thirty,” she said.
Cheryl rolled from the light. She moved her head underneath the comforter.
“Come on. Get up,” Pauline said.
“It’s my day off. I didn’t get to sleep until five.”
“At least move to the couch so we can watch TV.”
Cheryl sighed but got out of bed. She stood naked in the middle of the room. On the floor she found a pair of sweats and put them on. She walked to the living room and fell on the couch and put a blanket over herself. In the kitchen, Pauline made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, poured a glass of water, and took four ibuprofens from a bottle above the sink and walked back to the couch.
“Take a couple bites, then take these.” Pauline put the pills in her hand. Cheryl took a bite, swallowed the pills, and turned on the TV.
“I need you to help me do something,” Pauline said and sat next to her on the couch.
“What?”
“You’re going to say no, but you shouldn’t say no.”
“Great,” she sighed. “What is it?”
“There’s a sixteen-year-old girl who was my patient. She ran away from the hospital. I’m pretty sure she’s staying twenty miles from here in an abandoned house. She’s the only girl there with a bunch of guys. They’re runaways. Anyway, the guys have been taking advantage of her. I’m almost certain of that. She has abscesses on her leg from using heroin and she won’t eat. The abscesses aren’t healed enough for her to be on her own. She’s really messed up but I like her. There’s something about her. You’d like her, too. I know you would. She snuck out of the hospital a couple days ago. A graveyard nurse said she saw two boys come by her room around three AM. We only allow one visitor late at night. The nurse remembers making one of them leave but when she came back again the girl was gone, too. I need you to come with me and help get her out of there.”
Cheryl took another bite of the sandwich and turned the channel on the TV.
“Did you listen to what I said?”
“Kind of.”
“What do you think?”
“What did you do last night?”
“Good old Fred,” she said. “So he was nice last night, huh?”
“He was great,” Pauline said. “He even made breakfast this morning.”
“You have one good night with him and now we’re going to get shot helping some girl who’d probably rob you if she could.”
“Maybe.”
“Remember, he’ll be an asshole for the rest of the month and next month and next year. It’s always the same, and you always get suckered by it.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“You’re serious about this girl?”
“It won’t be that bad,” Pauline said.
“But that’s what you say about everything.”
“I know,” Pauline said. “But this time it’s true.”
The snow that had been falling all morning stopped as they headed away from town. They passed the warehouses and farm equipment stores and an old dilapidated trailer park until they were outside the city limits. Farms and ranches with snow-covered hayfields began to appear miles apart from each other.
“The girl, Jo, told me it was a white house with a yellow barn,” Pauline said as she drove slowly along the empty country road. “She said it’s a mile from the mini-mart we just passed but I don’t know in which direction.”
“And they don’t have electricity?” Cheryl asked. She looked sick in the light of day. She nursed a bottle of Diet Coke and smoked a cigarette and stared out the window.
“I don’t think so,” Pauline said.
“Then we’ll look for a place with no lights on anywhere,” she said.
Wind blew fallen snow across the long stretches of fields. They drove up and down side roads for an hour until Cheryl saw an old yellow dairy barn next to a white house. The farm was surrounded by acres of empty fields. A mailbox and a gravel road came into sight, and Pauline turned onto it and drove toward the home.
There were no cars and no sign of life as they came to it. They parked on a gravel turnaround and got out. It was a two-story 1930s farmhouse, its white paint faded and bubbled and cracked. It looked vacant but not derelict. A large snow-covered lawn surrounded the home and a fenced garden sat near the barn. In a pile in the driveway were an old doghouse that had been broken up and a picnic table laying on its side, half the wood planks gone. There were shoe prints in the snow everywhere. They walked up the steps to the front porch. There were two metal lawn chairs bent and broken, and a pile of scrap wood in a large stack next to the front door. Cheryl stood behind Pauline, holding on to the back of her coat. Pauline knocked on the door but there was no answer. They could hear no noise from inside. They waited for a minute then walked back to the large gravel lot between the house and the barn. It was there they saw a chimney and a thin line of smoke coming from it. They walked around the house to find a back porch with a windowed door. They looked inside and could see through the kitchen into the living room where a fire was burning. Pauline knocked again and a boy came into sight.