Desperation Road(31)

“Yes.”

“Then stretch them out for me.”

Annalee stuck her feet out straight and Maben began to massage the muscles in her small legs. She said not too hard and Maben eased up. Pressed her fingertips gently to the skin. Wanted to reach into the muscles and pull out the pain and tell her she would never have to run again because she was being chased but that would be a lie.

Brenda and the teenager walked past Maben and Annalee and said they’d see them tomorrow. The black woman stuck her head out of the office and said let me know if you need something. Got some paperwork to do.

Maben told the child she was going to get clean in the shower and Annalee followed her to the back. Sat on the cot with the coloring book.

“You still hungry?” Maben asked.

“Not really. My stomach hurts.”

“I guess so.”

Maben went into the shower and with the hot water on her neck she closed her eyes and mumbled to herself. It was a dream it was all a dream. A bad night like other bad nights and it was not real. Try and you can push it down. Way down. She nudged the hot water and made it hotter, almost scalding. And the steam rose and she begged it to be a dream. Her pleas as she sat in the backseat and he drove her into the dark and his hands in places they should not have been and the gunshots echoing across the vacant land and the harried face of the child in the motel room window. It was a dream. A nasty dream. The steam rose and the water spilled over her aching body and she felt it all and heard it all and it was not a dream but a nightmare and she felt it in the cloud of steam that shrouded her. The water so hot and her fears rising and with a quick twist she turned off the water and dropped her forehead against the slick tile of the shower wall.

She stood still. The water dripped from her body and tapped like tiny reminders. She lifted her forehead twice and let it fall both times and then she heard Annalee singing to herself and she raised her head. Half smiled. She stepped out of the shower and dried off. Dressed and sat down with Annalee.

“Got something I can color?”

The child flipped through the book. “You want ducks or dogs?”

“Ducks. Dogs bite.”

“Not good dogs.”

“No,” Maben said. “Not good dogs.”





21


BOYD GOT COFFEE IN A DRIVE-THROUGH AND SPENT THE MORNING riding and thinking about Russell. He didn’t want to but he couldn’t help it. There was no reason to think that Russell had been out on that dark road for any reason other than the one he had given. He probably felt like a rat out of a cage and he had seen the lights flashing and followed them and drove up on the scene by pure coincidence. No reason to believe anything else, Boyd kept thinking. He sipped the coffee and drove out on the highway down to the Louisiana line and back and he pulled into the truck stop for gas. As he filled the tank he leaned on the cruiser and took his sunglasses from his front pocket and put them on. He held his hand on his stomach and rubbed and pretended he had lost track of how much bigger he was now than he used to be.

When the tank was full he got back into the cruiser and drove to town and then made his way out toward Mr. Gaines’s place. He hadn’t been there since before Russell was sent away and he remembered being in the little pickup Mr. Gaines had given Russell and remembered smoking cigarettes and drinking tallboys and coming in a helluva lot later than they were supposed to. He remembered the night that Shawna Louise rode between them and they both pawed at her and she slapped them away wearing big silver rings on all her fingers and lime green eye shadow and she laughed big like a game show host and how they turned off onto a gravel road and took turns making out with her and trying like hell to do other stuff but she kept slapping and cackling until they both gave up. So many nights like that after football games and double-dating and for no good reason on summer nights. The sight and sound of Russell had conjured up a long list of memories and he wished to God he would have bumped into him at the downtown café. Or at the liquor store. Or at the gas station. Or anyfuckingwhere other than out on the scene last night.

He passed a flatbed stacked with hay bales and then slowed when he topped the hill and saw Mr. Gaines’s place ahead on the right. The pond where it used to be. The house where it used to be. The sunlight falling across the water like it always had. He came to a stop in the driveway and stared. He watched himself and Russell fishing. He watched himself and Russell sneaking out the bedroom window on the back side of the house.

He sighed and ran his hand across his cleanshaven jaw. And then he put the cruiser in reverse and backed out of the driveway and drove into town. He had Russell’s new address on a piece of scrap paper tucked in his shirt pocket.


Boyd thought he recognized the small house and was fairly certain he had helped Russell cut the grass or fix the fence or perform some other odd job Mr. Gaines had once given them. He got out of the cruiser and straightened himself. He walked across the small yard and up the front steps and as he reached out to knock the door opened. Russell stood there wearing only jeans that weren’t buttoned with his hair tousled. He held a white coffee mug. Russell opened the door fully and nodded and turned and walked to the couch. Boyd nodded back and followed him inside.

“I been thinking,” Boyd said.

Russell sat down. He sipped the coffee. “What’s that?”

“I been thinking you’re a son of a bitch. You didn’t call me or nothing knowing you were getting out. Hell, I would’ve drove up there and got you.”