The Highway Kind(81)

Russell began crying.

Eddie took a drink of beer. “I’m going to ask you one question, Russell. Did you call your mom?”

“No,” he whispered.

Eddie smiled. “See, it ain’t so bad telling the truth.”

The boy looked at him with tears streaming down his face. “Do you want me to leave now?”

“Nah,” Eddie said. “You got to lighten up. We have work to do. We have to give this thing a test drive and then we gotta eat pizza.”

Russell wiped his face and said, “I told you she doesn’t care.”

“That’s not the point,” Eddie said and laughed. “Jesus, you can be one hardheaded son of a bitch sometimes.”

The Le Mans front end was the problem. It was loose and drifty. The car needed new tie-rods, an alignment, tires and rims, and he’d have to give it a brake job. But it ran and the transmission seemed to be switching gears when it was supposed to. They drove around the industrial side of town for nearly an hour. They passed the horse track and drove along the river. They had the windows down and Russell hung his arm out the side. Eddie took them to a pizza parlor, they ate dinner, and afterward Russell played video games while Eddie drank beer and worked on bids in the corner of the half-empty restaurant.

The next morning Eddie found a can of car wax in the garage and set it on the hood of the Le Mans next to a handful of rags and a note saying Read the instructions on the can before you do anything. The money is for lunch. I’ll pay you for the waxing after you do it. Underneath the can he set ten dollars.

He went back to the garage and found a quart of old blue oil paint on a shelf. He opened it, stirred it for a long time, and then painted each of the four remaining battery handles. He drove to the job site and parked. The body of the house was finished and now the best part of the job was beginning. They were painting trim. The customers wanted three different colors and it meant two extra days of work. He took his best exterior brushes from his toolbox, his job-site radio, and headed up the drive. He unlocked the ladders and set them up.

He waited an hour before he began calling Houston from the top of the ladder, but Houston didn’t answer. At lunch he drove to Houston’s apartment to find him in his underwear. The TV was playing behind him. Inside the apartment was dark with the curtains drawn, and Houston was pale and sick and coughed as he stood in the doorway.

“Jesus,” Eddie said, smiling. “What happened to you?”

“I’m not sure,” said Houston quietly.

“Where did you get the money?”

“A guy I used to know invited me to his house. He was having a party and there was a bottle of Maker’s. I took it and sat out on his porch and that’s all I remember.”

“You drank the whole thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was nice of you to call and tell me you weren’t coming in.”

Houston ran his hands through his hair. “I set my alarm but I guess I didn’t hear it.”

“I don’t hear it now,” Eddie said.

“I must have shut it off somehow.”

“Does the TV turn on by itself?”

Houston sighed. “Goddamn it, Eddie.”

“Don’t get mad at me.”

“I couldn’t get out of bed, all right? I’ve been shitting my guts out all morning and I’m sick.”

Eddie laughed. “All you fucking guys lie. All you have to do is call and say, ‘I got loaded last night and I’m a scumbag pussy and can’t get out of bed on a hangover.’”

Houston shook his head and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Get your clothes on,” said Eddie. “We’ll eat lunch and then you’re going to work.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I don’t give a shit if you puke all over their lawn; they sure as fuck won’t notice. Get dressed.”

Houston nodded and began looking for his clothes.

Eddie drove them to a Greek diner and they sat in the back, in the bar, and he ordered Houston a beer.

“Drink it,” said Eddie, “and then eat lunch. We’ll buy you a six-pack on the way to the job site. I don’t want any shaky lines today.”

“I don’t know if I can eat,” Houston whined.

“Try a grilled cheese and some soup, you sorry sack of shit,” Eddie said. “And if you complain one more time I’ll make you buy.”

Houston nodded; the beer came and he drank it. He ordered another. They ate lunch, stopped at a mini-mart for a six-pack, and then went back to work. Houston threw up twice but kept at it and the beer finally settled him and he got through the day.

That evening Eddie parked the van in the carport. He took out a bucket holding the dirty brushes in water. He passed the Le Mans and when he did he saw that the rest of the old batteries were gone. He walked to the back door, let the dog out, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and sat on a lawn chair and smoked a cigarette. The old dog wandered around the yard and then came back to him and sat by his feet.

Russell came through the gate minutes later. He walked hunched over and Eddie realized just how small the boy was, how thin his legs and arms were. As Russell got closer, Eddie looked at the boy’s hands and could see blue paint on them.

Russell stopped ten feet away. “I waxed the car,” he said.