Desperation Road(26)

“There’s grace. If you want to call it a ladder or a tunnel then I suppose you can. But I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Trying to justify yourself by condemning them or trying to get me to say you and them are different. But it don’t much matter what I say.”

When the guard blew the whistle Russell turned and followed his fellow inmates out of the chapel. He had never gone back. Many nights he had thought about what the preacher had said. It’s there if you want it. Don’t matter what you’ve done. There was something odd about that. Seemed like there had to be a point of no return. Things you couldn’t take back. He had seen the worst of men and he wanted there to be punishment for that so that he could feel like he was different from them.

He took his eyes off the steeple and he walked up the steps of the church. Wondered if the old preacher was still alive. If he was still helping those kinds of men find their way home.

On that night he had drunk more than usual for no particular reason other than it was one of those hot Mississippi Friday nights when you have a paycheck in your pocket and a good woman who loves you and clear reception on the radio station out of New Orleans that plays the old blues, aching voices that sing of mojo and insatiable women and red roosters and sneaking in and out the back door. One of those nights when the light stays until well into the evening and pushes the night out further and further and as long as there is gasoline being pumped at the gas stations then it seems a shame not to burn it up. Many times he had thought that it might have helped him if there had been some reason. Something that triggered him, shoved him, irritated him, violated him, motivated him to drink so much. Many times he had wished that there would have been something to point his finger at other than his own stupidity. But there wasn’t.

Got off work early on Friday afternoon. Payday. Put some of his check in the bank and kept some of it in his pocket and he drove to a house on the east side of town where his father had asked him to see about something. Got there and knocked on the door and a woman with a baby on her hip and another little one holding on to her leg opened the front door and let him in and took him to the kitchen and showed him the leak. Went back out and got a toolbox from the truck and came back in and crawled underneath the sink and fixed it. Then she took him to the bathroom and flipped the light switch and no light came on and he asked if she had changed the bulb and she shifted the baby to her other hip and swatted at the kid on her leg and said do I look like a fool. Don’t guess so he said and then he took a screwdriver and removed the switch plate and then pulled out the light switch and as in many of the dejected old houses his father had brought back to life there was a loose wire and it was the hot one and he tightened it and flipped the switch and the light came on.

He asked if there was anything else and she said no and he took his toolbox and left. Stopped at a gas station and filled up with gas and started to buy beer but then got that feeling. That Friday night, nothing to do tomorrow, damn it’s a beautiful night feeling. And beer wouldn’t do so he stopped at the liquor store and bought a fifth of bourbon. Old Charter. Aged eight years. The same kind of bottle that his dad had kept in the kitchen cabinet over the stove. Drove over to Sarah’s apartment and she and her mother and her maid of honor were there. Planning. Always planning now. Only a handful of weeks away. He talked to them a minute and kissed her and she asked if he’d take her car and get the oil changed tomorrow and he said yeah. Got his bottle out of the truck and got in her car and slid the seat back all the way. Stopped at a convenience store and bought a giant Styrofoam cup filled with Coke and he poured out a third of the Coke and opened the Old Charter and started up. Drove out on the highway to JC’s. A few trucks and a few motorcycles in the gravel parking lot. Door open to the pool hall and music coming out and he took his bottle in because JC only sold beer. Couple of guys with beards and tattoos at one table and a couple of guys in their work shirts at another and JC sitting behind the bar reading the newspaper. The small, wrinkled man looked up and said hey to Russell and saw the bottle in one of his hands and the giant cup in the other and he opened up the cooler and set two cans of Coke on the bar. He sat and talked with JC and watched them play pool. Some left and others came in and a couple of hours passed and it was closer to dark. A solid dent in the bottle now. Said goodbye to JC and nodded to some men he knew and walked out and got in her car. Head feeling about right and the night feeling about right and his life feeling about right. Drove on and felt good. Couldn’t help but feel good. Stopped on the side of the road to piss and lightning bugs flashed across the field. Hundreds of them. Sat down on the hood of the car and watched them for a while.

Then he had to drive back to town for more ice and more Coke and he ran into an old girlfriend at the convenience store and she made a joke about him getting married and that being the end of it and he told her that he didn’t hear many women talk like that but he knew she wasn’t like many women. She said you damn right, Russell. You by yourself? I am except for half a bottle of Old Charter and she said you need some company. He said I thought you said that was the end of it. She said you ain’t married yet and he smiled and said you don’t need me. The night is young. It always is she said and she slapped him on the rear end and climbed in and they drank and drove through the neighborhoods a couple of blocks back from Delaware. She bit his ear and ran her hand under his shirt and he did the same to her while trying to keep it on the road. She grabbed at his belt and he said you better not and he drove back to the convenience store. She kissed his neck and got in her car and drove off and he did the same. Close to midnight now and back out to the desolate roads. Drinking more than he had planned on but driving and singing now and then with the voices on the radio and stopping at a stop sign and not sure which way to go. Then driving on and stopping at another and not sure which way to go. Eyes lagging behind if he moved his head from side to side. A deer cut across in front of him and he swerved and spilled his drink in his lap and he stopped the car. Got out and wiped his pants with napkins from the glove compartment. Poured another one and got back in and driving on and playing with the radio stations and coming over the hill and picking up speed coming down the hill and never seeing the truck with its lights off parked on the bridge.