When the Saints (14 page)

The Kid and I got along like river stones. When I told him about all the things that happened to me before and after I left home, he put both his arms around me and sobbed. Then, to cheer us both up, he tried to fart “O Canada,” but he never got past a sombre trumpeted O.

At the start of trout season, his uncle showed up with a van full of fishing gear and vinyl records. The Kid introduced us and the uncle said we could have the albums to sell at the market because he’d converted to CDs. While I rummaged through the stacks, he kept looking up the back of my shorts and talking to me about fishing, like I cared. He asked me if I wanted to come along on the trip. He was sexy as hell and had decent taste in music, so I said yes. After the weekend, he asked me if I wanted to come live with him at Blood Rain.

When The Kid and I said so long, I gave him my marble and made him promise not to lose it. He held it up to the sun, watching the light play through it. Then he came running after the van, leaping and hamming it up. The uncle and I watched in the rear-view mirror, laughing. His uncle told me The Kid had an identical twin who died at birth. “Imagine two of him!” he yelled over the engine.

I smiled, thinking one twin could burp the alphabet while the other burped it backward. Then the van hit a bump in the road. The water in the fish bucket slopped over and I looked back and saw a big ugly trout sliding down the metal floor toward us. The uncle managed to keep one hand on the wheel while he reached back, scooped it up, took aim and plopped that sucker right back into the bucket. That’s when I fell for him.

Jared Smoke was the kind of man who could screw three times in a row if you were up for it. And you would be. He had washboard abs and his hair was as soft as kitten fur. He lived on the reserve in a converted office with linoleum floors and fluorescent ceiling lights. The washroom was down the hall from
his apartment and it still said MEN on the door. To bathe, you had to boil water and put it in a basin in the basement laundry room. He had musical instruments everywhere and I’d sing along whenever he picked one up. He said I had a pretty voice.

When I found out he was married, I locked myself in the bathroom and tried to loosen the knot in my stomach by making myself cry. I’d been deluding myself since we met that we were starting a real relationship. I even daydreamed we might fall in love and make little babies to sing to. He said, “I didn’t think you’d care,” and then, “Don’t worry, she’s not coming back.” So I stayed. About two weeks after I arrived, his grandmother called on the phone and they yelled at each other in their language. Then his sister came over and told us the band council was waiting down the road to talk to us.

Jared and I walked into the room together and when he saw all their faces, he dropped my hand and sat two chairs away from me. When they finally spoke, he didn’t translate even though he said he would.

Afterward, I grabbed my jacket and purse from his place. I was too embarrassed to go around collecting my other junk. Jared drove me to the bus station and gave me forty dollars. I sat on a bench inside and looked up at the electronic board to see which buses were arriving and where they were going next. The first one that lit up on the screen was headed to Halifax. Through the windows, I watched Jared Smoke fiddle with the radio station to find a good song. He pulled away singing and probably never thought about me again.

W
EST RIPS UP A PAPER NAPKIN AND ROLLS THE SHREDS
into a hard little ball. “I don’t know why she said yes when I asked her to marry me. Neither does she.”

I picture them tying the knot in a barn strung with white twinkle lights. I think back to the photograph I saw of her the first night I slept here. I bet she wore a dress short enough to show off the calves of those tanned legs. I try not to imagine the same legs twisted around West in the bed I’ve been sleeping in, but I do anyway.

“After the wedding, she wanted me to buy the tavern, so I did, and right after that she wanted me to buy the pawnshop across the street. She was furious that I wouldn’t do it. She hated my clothes, hated this house, couldn’t stand me breathing next to her. Some rich guy came to town a few years ago to buy horses, and five minutes later she was taking off with him. I haven’t seen her since.”

I finally get my vocal cords to work. “Have you talked to her?”

“She calls me once every three months or so to make sure I’m still miserable.” West reaches his hand across the table, but I draw my chair back. “If she walked in the door right now, I’d tell her to go to hell.”

“Why are you still married to her?”

“I guess I didn’t have a good reason to bother with the paperwork.”

I catch a glimpse of my homemade curtains hanging on his window and feel my stomach tie itself in that familiar slip knot. I look away to the shadows sliding like ghosts across the cupboards and wonder if there’s any hard booze behind their doors.

“I need a cigarette.”

West leaves the room and I hear him rummaging around in
the hall closet, taking things down off the shelf. He comes back and hands me a frumpy-looking Peter Jackson.

“I quit ages ago, but I hid a pack on myself in case the world’s about to end.”

“Did your wife make you quit?”

He squats down beside my chair and clears his throat like he’s about to give a speech, but then he drops his head and sighs. We stay like that, me sitting, him squatting, neither of us speaking, until the afternoon sun starts to die on the linoleum. Finally, he stands back up, ankles cracking. “I guess I should start supper.” I feel him studying the top of my head. “Tabby, I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t see the point.”

“You didn’t think I’d care that you’re married?”

“I’m only married by law. It don’t mean shit. She left.”

“Your cousin said she wants to talk to you.”

“Her brother Tommy is a buddy of Danny’s. The little piss stain’s always trying to get her to come back to Solace to help take care of their mother. It ain’t going to happen, and even if it did, she wouldn’t be welcome here.”

I get up, walk down the hall and lie down on his bed, trying to decide if I should leave right this minute. I squeeze my eyes shut, picture this wife of his prancing around, lounging next to him on the sofa watching TV. For all I know, he’s using me to make her jealous. Why else would he let a stranger practically move in overnight and drive around in his truck? Maybe he even invited Danny to drop by, hoping he’d find me here

When I open my eyes, West is standing in the doorway.

“Hit me.” He taps his cheek. “Come on, give me a good whack
so we can get past this and eat chicken strips.” He paws around in a drawer and pulls out a Halloween devil mask, yanks it down over his head.

“Why do you have that thing?”

The devil tilts his hideous mug closer and closer. “Hit me,” his voice insists.

So I do. I knock him right off the bed.

“
Jesus fuckmongering ass witch.
Was that just your hand?” He tries to laugh, but it makes him wince. “I’ve taken knuckle rings with less bite.”

I reach down, pull up his mask and gasp. There’s a mass of swelling already forming under his cheekbone.

“What?” He grabs his top lip and hauls it to one side. “Am I missing some teeth? Maybe you better hit me again to make sure.”

I tell him I need some time alone to think and he pulls himself up off the floor, closing the bedroom door behind him. After he leaves for work, I go out to the kitchen and eat a few of the chicken fingers he left for me on the stove. They’re pretty good.

I take a bath then sit on the sofa flipping through West’s cookbook. Finally, I shut it and dig through my purse looking for the phone number I wrote down. I dial the trailer and it only rings once before Ma picks up.

“Oh, Tabby. I thought you were the police.”

“The police? Why?”

“Swimmer’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean?”

“As soon as I went over to Bird’s, Poppy took off to buy drugs. She left the kids in the car at some dealer’s house and Janis fell
asleep. Swimmer took off from the back seat and no one’s seen him.”

“Since when?”

“Since five hours ago.”

“Oh my God.”

I hang up and step into my boots, run down the road to the tavern. When I tell West about Swimmer, he kicks everyone out and snaps off the lights. We’re on the highway within five minutes.

“Floor it.”

“I am.” The engine rattles. “This is as fast as she goes.” West glances in the rear-view mirror. “Shit, did I lock the register?”

We arrive in Jubilant a few minutes after midnight. There’s a cop car parked in Poppy’s driveway. I hurry inside and find Ma sitting on the sofa with Jewell. A police officer is on the phone in the kitchen.

“No news,” Jewell whispers before I ask. “Poppy’s in the hospital having a nervous breakdown. Jackie’s out searching. We just got Janis to sleep.”

Ma looks like she’s been punched in both eyes, her lids are so swollen. I ask her if she’s all right and Jewell pats her hand, looks at me and shakes her head no. I go to the kitchen cupboard where Ma keeps a carton of Export “A”s, grab two packs, slip one in my jacket and tear the wrapping off the other. I remove the silver paper on the left-hand side the way she prefers, light one and bring it out to the waiting V of her fingers.

“West is with me,” I tell her. “We’re going to see what we can find out.”

“She was right off Wharf Road,” Jewell says. “We’ve already been up and down there fifty times.”

I go back out to the truck and tell West, “We need to hear what people in town are saying. Is there a bar around?”

“The Hug ‘n’ Slug,” he says, backing out. “The owner was ready to board it up a while back, but I guess he’s still turning the sign on.”

I chew a fingernail down to the skin, staring into everyone’s yards as we pass. We pull up in front of a square building with bars on the windows and a sign hanging over the door that says
The Lighthouse.
I’ve driven past it a few times. The paint used to be blue, but the salt air turned it a pale turquoise. It’s almost pretty in the moonlight.

An electric buzzer sounds when we walk in and the bartender’s hand darts beneath the counter where he probably keeps his weapon. There are six or seven people seated, a few more shooting pool.

“Lazlo around?” West asks.

“Nope.”

We sit at the bar and order a couple of drafts. The bartender relaxes a little and pulls down two glasses, keeps a steady eye on us as he pours.

“We heard there’s a kid missing,” West says. “Seen posters up at the Irving station.”

A man sitting at the bar turns to look at us. “It’s that little feller belongs to that stripper.” He fishes the straw out of his glass and tosses it on the bar, takes two quick sips. “I recognize you.”

“I run the tavern in Solace River.”

“The Punch ‘n’ Kick?”

West removes his coat and slings it a little too hard over the stool back. “The Four Horses.”

“That’s right.” The man taps his cheek then points to the shiner I gave West. “Looks like someone got the better of you.”

A woman clomps up and whispers something in the man’s ear. She leans down so far the ends of her peroxide blond hair dip into his drink. I look away from her saggy cleavage down at her leopard print pumps.

“Nice shoes.”

“Got these at Frenchy’s for four bucks.” She picks up one freckled foot in the air and rotates it. The blurry mermaid tattooed on her ankle gyrates its tail. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Tabby. He’s West.”

She catches her balance. “I’m Angela, this is Bernie, and over there are a bunch of shitheads not worth knowing.”

“We were just saying it’s a shame about the missing little boy.”

“They ain’t going to find that kid. That woman has enemies. They want her brother and all them gone.”

“Angela, quit your drunk talk.” The bartender snatches her empty glass.

“Smoke?” I show her my pack of cigarettes, hop off my stool. “Let’s go outside.”

The street is deserted. She sparks the cigarette I give her off the lighter dangling from her key chain. Her key chain charm is a leopard print pump exactly like the ones she’s wearing.

“Your man’s some good-looking, though, Jesus.” She inhales sharply and holds it in as she says, “You two walked in and I almost fell out of my chair.”

“Well, he’s not really mine. He’s married.”

“Fuck him, then.” She blows out. “It ain’t worth it.”

“I do fuck him.” I sigh. “And trust me, it’s worth it.”

She snorts and careens on her heels. “I like you. You should stick around. I’ll warn you, though.” She points at me with the burning tip of the cigarette. “This place is boring as shit. I mean,
look
at it.” She gestures up the drizzly street, flinging her smoke in the air. I watch her stumble back and forth trying to fish it from the sidewalk crack. She finally manages to pinch it between her fingers and brings it back to her mouth, coating the filter in hot pink lipstick.

“So, this missing boy,” I say. “You know something?”

“Troy and them were all up at his place yelling at each other, and it sounded like they were talking about where to stash some kid. I only go up there to buy grass off Kay, right?” She blows out a long stream of smoke. “They just ignore me.”

“You didn’t call the cops?”

“Fuck, no. They’re probably taking better care of him than his mother does. Anyways, I know better. Those assholes would bury me.”

“Why do you think they took him?”

“Probably to get back at somebody for something. Either way, the kid’s going to social services. I know, because it happened to me, right?” Her veined blue eyes drift away up the street. When she looks back at me, they’re shining. “They won’t even fucking let me see my own fucking
kid
.”

W
EST AND
I
HEAD BACK TO THE TRAILER AND SLEEP IN
the truck. In the morning, we drive to the truck stop for breakfast and I call Ma from the pay phone. Janis answers and says Swimmer’s still gone and Grandma can’t talk right now because she’s crying too much. I tell her to try to cheer Grandma up and we’ll check in later.