Tricks (29 page)

No matter what, I won't. This isn't me.

I'm only here for Mom. Cory. I won't!

But I do. And when I do, it's over the top.

487

I Leave, Emptied

And when I get home, the house is emptied too. Emptied of life.

Emptied of love. Emptied of... us.

I suppose Mom might find another man, but he can never be Jack. And Cory?

He's already harder. A stranger.

*

If there's anything left of my brother,

I don't know where it is. I hate to visit

him because when I look into his eyes, all I find is death. He's a walking, talking, breathing corpse. Lockup

will only make that worse.

*

I go into the bathroom, turn the shower as hot as my skin can stand it. Scrub.

But the universe doesn't hold near enough soap to wash this filth away.

The slippery lather does what it often

does to me. But when I touch it, I hear,

*

The little boy likes that, doesn't he?

Scrub harder. I keep at it until the spray

goes cold, shrinking every body part and raising rows of goose bumps. Can

I ever feel decent about a shower again?

Can I ever feel okay about me?

488

A Poem by Eden Streit
Shrinking

Do you know how it feels to be shrinking?

Withering away into nothing

more than a memory?

You need to put one foot in front of the other, but running in place is all you can do.

How do you overcome

pain

when it's something

you breathe, a blast of hot exhaust in your

face, something turned

you must eat, or starve?

How do you search for tomorrow

when you're mired in an endless today?

489

Eden They Say Freedom Isn't Free

I agree. My bid for freedom from Tears of Zion has already cost me dearly.

*

I don't know what will happen to me

if Jerome keeps his promise, unlocks

*

my door tonight, steals me away from

Father's house of rehabilitation.

*

I have no clue where I'll end up. Maybe

right back here (please, God, no). The one

*

thing I'm sure of is, should I leave this

place, I will not touch down in Salt Lake

*

City. Will not set up housekeeping with

Jerome. I will find a way to escape him, too.

*

I sit in the dark, heart racing as seconds...

minutes... hours creep by. Did he change

*

his mind? Did someone change it for him?

The air in the room grows heavy. I sink

490

into it. Can't find breath. I start to drown....

Suddenly I wake up. A key is turning

*

in the lock. Jerome came for me after all.

He pulls me to my feet.
Ready?
he whispers.

*

The compound is dark, everyone asleep.

We sprint across a cushion of sand

*

to Jerome's Malibu, slip inside. It is old, but tuned, and starts easily. Still, the engine

*

sounds very loud from where I sit, looking for lights to blink on. Not a one. Nothing

*

but a billow of dust, lifting into the night

sky. Night! It's been weeks since I've seen

*

the stars. A voice drifts from not-so-distant

memory:
Pretty tonight. Looks like you

*

could reach out and touch the stars.
I close

my eyes, transported to a sleeping bag

*

in the bed of a Tundra. Andrew is warm beside me.
I
want what I've no right to take....

*

Tears fall freely as Jerome turns south on

Highway 93 toward Wells. He doesn't notice,

*

so I let them fall. By the time we reach I-80, the stars are nothing but blurry streaks.

491

Old Malibus

Aren't exactly fuel efficient. As we roll into Wells, Jerome slows down, checks

*

the gauge.
Better gas up. There's a truck

stop ahead. Hungry? It's a long way to SLC.

*

"A little," I fudge. I've barely eaten a bite in two days. "Thirsty, too. Any chance of a Coke?"

*

What'll you give me for it?
He snickers at the old joke. Only he isn't joking.

*

He pulls up at the pumps, opens the glove

box, reaches for his wallet. And there, on

*

a folded road map, is his cell phone. A buzz like a high power line vibrates in my ears.

*

Jerome doesn't seem to notice. He gets

out of the car, puts his keys in their usual

*

resting place on the front floorboard.

Do you have to use the bathroom?

*

I shake my head. "Not until
after
the Coke."

When he goes inside, I grab the phone.

*

One eye on the door, I dial Andrew's cell.

This AT&T customer is not accepting incoming

492

calls.
No! Quick. Dial his home.
The number

you are calling is no longer in service.

*

Andrew! Where are you? No time to worry about it now. Not if I want to get away

*

this side of Salt Lake City. I need to buy

some time. The keys... I reach down,

*

locate them, toss them under the backseat, just as he comes out the door, goodies

*

in hand. I have maybe five minutes.

As Jerome starts toward the island, I jump

*

out of the car. "Decided I should pee after all," I say, passing him on the sidewalk.

*

Nerves ping-pong in my stomach. I feel like I'm going to vomit. But I don't, and

*

he doesn't seem fazed at all. Over my

shoulder, I watch him go to the car, open

*

the door. As he leans inside, I duck around the corner of the building.

*

It's quiet this time of day, and in the steel

blue of just-before-dawning, a row of semis

*

waits silently for their drivers to wake. I dash across the short span of asphalt to the far side

493

of the trucks. Maybe there's somewhere to hide behind them. No! Nothing but desert,

*

stretching all the way to the freeway. What

now? He'll come looking any second!

*

I run down the row, hoping for...? Can I

hide in one of them? Don't think so. If I try

*

to open one of the back doors, it's sure to make a racket. About three-quarters of the way

*

down the line, I pass a travel trailer, attached to a big crew cab. Something about it calls to me.

*

If the owners are asleep in the trailer, maybe

I could slip inside the truck? Could the doors

*

be unlocked? As quietly as I can, I pull up on the rear passenger handle. Holy mother!

*

It opens. I climb up, shut the door, skooch down on the floor, close my eyes.

*

He must be looking for me by now.

When he finds me, what will he do?

494

But It Isn't Jerome

Who finds me. It's the owner of the fifth

wheel. It is light when he opens the door

*

to let his border collie inside.
What the--

What the hell are you doing in my truck?

*

I'm afraid to get up off the floor.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

*

Come on! Think! Something sort of close to the truth pops out of my mouth.

*

"It's just that my boyfriend and I got into an awful fight. I was afraid he'd hurt me,

*

so I hid in here...." I must have fooled the dog, anyway. She licks my face.

*

The man, who's maybe sixty, looks

dubious at first. But something about,

*

my expression makes him go on the alert.

Think he's still here? What's he look like?

*

Thank you, God. "Short. Thin. He drives a blue Malibu. I'm really scared."

*

You stay right here with Trinket. I'll take a look around.
He shuts the door.

495

Relief firecrackers through me in tiny

bursts. I'm stiff. Tired. But maybe okay.

*

It isn't long before the guy returns.

No sign of a blue Malibu. Where you

*

headed, young lady? He
gives me a once-over, but if my industrial outfit makes

*

him wonder, he doesn't say a word.

Think fast, Eden. "We were going to

*

Salt Lake City. But I want to go home.

And my boyfriend has all our money."

*

He takes every word in perfect stride.

Okay. And just where is home?

*

South on 93? Keep going, and end up in "Vegas." I hold my breath, hoping.

*

Can't take you all the way there.

But I can get you as far as Ely.

*

I finally feel safe enough to scoot up onto the seat. "That would be great.

*

I can call Andr--uh, my brother to come

get me." And pray he answers this time.

496

At Fifty MPH

The trip from Wells to Ely takes close to three hours. I stay scrunched down

*

in my seat for a long while. Wes notices without comment. Finally he says,

*

I think you're okay now. Been checking the mirror. Haven't seen anything blue.

*

I straighten a bit. Trinket squirms and yips, as if happy to see me relax. "Good girl."

*

Wes smiles.
You like dogs, I see.

Have any at home, waiting for you?

*

I almost say no, that my parents are much more into God than dogs, or any

*

of his creatures that don't tithe heavily.

But then I think of Andrew. The ranch.

*

And, "Sheila. She's a bluetick hound, just a pup." We talk dogs for some time,

*

then ranching. Wes has a big ranch, with Angus and Quarter Horses.

*

"Andrew... uh... my brother works...

uh, worked on a ranch for a while."

497

Did he, now? Speaking of your brother, do you want to give him a call?

*

We'll be in Ely before you know it.

We should have cell service now.

*

"I'd like to, but I left my phone in my boyfriend's car." His phone, actually.

*

Wes points to the center console.

Use mine. It's right in there.

*

I dial the well-known numbers, with the same results as before.

*

The number you have called...
Where

could he be? Still, I know Wes and I must

*

part ways soon. And I suspect he'll worry

if I don't get hold of someone. I pretend

*

Andrew answers. "Hey. Um, something kind of bad happened. Can you come get me?"

498

Where Is Andrew?

What's up with the phones? Is he okay?

What about his parents? Where are
they?

*

It's all I can think about. Wes keeps

right on talking, and I try my best

*

to find answers to his many questions.

But most of them probably don't make

*

much sense. Suddenly Trinket stands up in the backseat, whines a little, wags

*

her stumpy tail.
We're getting close
to home and she can smell it,
explains

*

Wes.
The turnoff's south of town,
so I can get you a little closer. There's

*

a nice truck stop out that way. You'd

be safe enough there until your brother

*

comes, I reckon. Most truckers I know

won't let your boyfriend mess with you.

*

Sooner rather than later we turn off the straight two-lane blacktop.

*

Wes decides to fill up before heading on home. I leave his company

499

rather reluctantly, and before I walk

away, I go around and give him a hug.

*

"Thank you so much. I don't know

what I would have done...."

*

He blushes a furious rhubarb color.

Ah. It was nothing but common

*

decency. But tell you what you can

do for me in return...

*

Yeah, right. Figures. I can guess what he wants in return. But whatever.

*

I owe him big-time. And it's nothing

I haven't already done. "What?"

*

Choose your next man more

carefully. You deserve better.

*

Oh my God. How could I think...?

My own face flushes, red hot, and

*

my throat knots as my eyes fill.

"I will," I manage. "I promise."

500

Eyes Burning

I start away, completely awed by the kindness of this perfect stranger.

*

Wes stops me.
Wait one second.

I turn back. In his hand is a twenty.

*

You must be hungry. Have some lunch

while you wait for your brother.

*

I could protest, but I
am
hungry.