You've Got Something Coming

by Starke, Jonathan;

  “Okay, I guess,” Claudia finally said.

  “Got everything packed?” Gerald asked, though they had next to nothing.

  “I guess. It’s getting easy.”

  “How so?”

  “We’ve done it a lot. It feels normal kinda.”

  “I bet you’ve met some nice people.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And soon you’ll be in a fresh city with lots of new people and adventures and some nice friends to play with. You’ll be the little traveler girl with the cool boxing daddy. You’ll have so many stories for your friends that talking to you will be like a magical story time for them.”

  Claudia smiled. “I didn’t think of it like that.” She pulled on her left hearing aid and scratched her ear.

  “How many of those kids went all the way across the country just to live somewhere new?”

  “Probably not any.”

  “Exactly. You’ll be a cool bean in your new place.”

  “I just don’t want them to make fun of me and my hearing phones.” She reached up and covered her ears.

  “Oh, kid,” Gerald said. He reached over and patted her shoulder.

  Trucks rubbed Claudia’s forearm with the back of his hand.

  “Will I be weird ’cause I came from so far?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Gerald said. “I think the kids will find you interesting. They’ll want to listen to your stories. So the hearing aids make you a bit different from the other kids. That’s okay. It’s not a bad thing to be your own person. There’s nothing wrong in being what you are and finding a common ground with others. Be good. Be nice. Be generous. The kids will respond.”

  Claudia put her hands on her stomach and sighed.

  “Okay,” she said. “I hope it’s true.”

  “Only way to find out is to go, huh?” Gerald said.

  Claudia sighed again.

  Trucks reached for her hand. This time she let him hold on. He gave her fingers a nice squeeze and let go. It was funny feeling her little hands beneath those old gloves of his. He wanted to hold on longer, but that small connection was enough for now.

  “Who else’s butt’s getting cold?” Gerald asked.

  “Mine!” Claudia said.

  “Maybe we should head in. I can scavenge some logs, crank the fireplace.”

  Claudia turned to Gerald. “What happens when the logs go to the fireplace?”

  Gerald looked at the sky. “Up through the chimney, and then they become stars.”

  THE REAL DARK

  Trucks spent the night lying on the floor beside the bed. Claudia was tucked in the sheets, sleeping hard after sitting in front of the fire. Trucks didn’t mind the stiff carpet under his back. Having a roof meant everything. He’d spent many of those hours at the kitchen table, sitting in the dim light. A map spread out. He thought about how Gerald had talked about Montana, a nice place to raise a child, good people, beautiful land. That maybe Trucks could learn a new way of life for himself and offer Claudia an entirely different world. Far from anything she’d known. But there was a pull in Trucks. A burn deep down that said he was his own man and Nevada was where he could find quick action. Take fast fights. Pocket some okay purses until he rose up the ranks. Made the real bills. This thing his mind and body and spirit understood so well. Adrift in his blood. So much a part of his making that he didn’t know who he was without it.

  Trucks stared at the ceiling. He missed the soft blue glow from the other night. It was dark tonight. That true dark that makes a man look hard into himself. The kind of dark that brings that acidic fear of death to the mind. Like it could happen at any moment. The way he felt carrying his girl through the Badlands. The harsh cries of winter. How it burned against his skin.

  He was suddenly too aware of his heartbeat. Of Claudia’s breathing. That gentle hiiiii-haaaaa he’d come to know so well over the years. The two of them alone in that shack of an apartment in Klakanouse. Taking care of her since she was a baby. Elle never had the instincts of a mother. Refused to breast feed. Unwilling to coddle. She’d even held Claudia with a gap between them, like if they ever fully touched she could never rid herself of the little girl. And so Elle was gone and gone and gone. Would sometimes roll back through the doorway like a drugged-up yo-yo. Return only for something she’d forgotten—hidden cash or uppers or needles or whatever she was hiding in all those inconvenient places. The return always so short. Leaving that faint gardenia smell like a whisper. Haunting him. Like maybe she’d never really been there. Or, when it lingered long enough, make him think she actually might return.

  He kept staring at the ceiling. Putting one fist into his palm, then switching. Back and forth all night. He tried to think of what was best for Claudia. There were guaranteed fights in Nevada. He was assured of it by the boys. But for the first time his mind was heavy with the idea that he had to seek different movement and a new way to provide. That maybe the hitching and boxing wasn’t best for his girl. Conflicting. How something so deep in his blood could hurt someone so dear to him. Trucks tried to think of Nevada in another way. Maybe he didn’t have to be the one taking the punishment. He could coach or corner or cut. But could it bring the kind of peace he’d hoped for? Or should he listen to Gerald and stick it out in Montana?

  Trucks was reminded of the map he’d spread on the table that night. The US guidebook Gerald had shown him before he went to bed. Trucks had studied the map hard. Followed its veins of roads with a finger. He looked at the city dots spread over the map like stars. He imagined them as different lives he and Claudia could have. Walking harbors in Portsmouth. Getting ice cream in Davis. Scaling red rocks in West Valley. Dipping shrimp in Goose Creek. Lives of light and adventure, not just scraping by. Not just surviving. But it was nothing but fantasy. He knew. And if the choice was going to be about her, then he needed to narrow it down to something practical that might last, that could actually work. If they were sticking to Montana or heading to Nevada, the direction was the same; they’d take 90 West. He thought about the towns he’d checked off in his mind while thumbing the map, measuring the route to Billings. Only an hour away. A northwest trajectory. Dunmore to Hardin to Toluca to Indian Arrow. Wouldn’t even take long to hitch up there. Probably find a ride real quick. Especially if they started in the early morning. And if things didn’t work out in Billings, couldn’t they just roll on down the highway? It’s not like 90 West ended there. It’s not like anything had to.

  Trucks sat up. He figured it was three in the morning. He stood and looked at Claudia as she slept. The smell of June’s perfume hung light in the air. He wondered if it was a mistake to have given her the bottle, but what was done was done. He’d tucked Claudia in tight at bedtime, but now the blanket and sheets were off her. Her body askew. He pulled the blanket up over her and patted it down around the crooks of her.

  “Montana or Nevada, Pepper Flake? What do you think?”

  Trucks walked over to the bedroom door, took his workman’s coat off the handle, slipped it on, and left the room. He quietly walked through the house until he got to the front door. Trucks slipped on his boots and went outside.

  He walked into the real dark. The wind zipped hard. Trucks put his hands in his coat pockets and bounced up and down in the yard. He looked out at the world coming into its birth. Heard the pine branches shaking in the breeze.

  His mind said, Dunmore to Hardin to Toluca to Indian Arrow.

  His heart said, Pah-pah-pah-pah.

  Dunmore to Hardin to Toluca to Indian Arrow.

  Pah-pah-pah-pah.

  Dunmore to Hardin to Toluca to Indian Arrow.

  Pah-pah-pah-pah.

  Dunmore to Hardin to Toluca to Indian Arrow.

  Pah-pah-pah-pah.

  MEADOWLARK VS. CUTTHROAT

  The food and rest and warmth had raised her spirit. Claudia was close to good again.

  The three of them were in the sun room. It was morning. Trucks and Gerald sat at the small oak table. Claudia stood
near the window. She had one hand pressed against the glass, the other holding June’s perfume. She watched the white world outside.

  Gerald had set a navy duffel bag on the table. He offered it to Trucks as a gift to replace the torn plastic Hallowell sack he’d been using to carry their food and supplies. He’d filled the duffel bag with oranges, bananas, apples, peanut butter, crackers, water bottles, puzzle books, a roadmap, and metal cutlery. Trucks hardly knew what to say. Gerald was such a good and thoughtful man.

  Trucks was torn about what to do next. The fire in him wanted to hitch toward Nevada where he could pick up quick work training boxers or cornering other fighters. The more sensible part of him knew it was probably better for his girl to be rooted someplace calm and simple where not a word of boxing was ever uttered.

  Claudia turned from the window and shook out the hand that had been touching the glass. “It’s freezing,” she said.

  Gerald laughed. “What’d you expect, little one?”

  Claudia shrugged. Then she rubbed the little shampoo bottle in her hands.

  “You think you should put that in your coat pocket so you don’t lose it?” Trucks said.

  “I wanna hold it,” she said. Then she looked down at the bottle. “I like to hold it.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Where would you wanna go if you could go anywhere?” Gerald asked her.

  “I don’t know. What are the good places? I wanna go to the good places,” Claudia said.

  “What do you think of it here so far?” Gerald asked.

  “Mown Tinna?”

  Gerald laughed. “Yeah.”

  Claudia sat down at the table. She rocked the little shampoo bottle.

  “I know you haven’t been here long,” Gerald said, “but I was wondering. I’ve been trying to convince your father to stick around.”

  “It’s nice, I think. But really cold. I love the big fields and trees and the smell of wood and stuff. You said they have lots of animals and pretty flowers. I like that.”

  “Sharp girl. It’s certainly beautiful here. Nobody could doubt that,” Gerald said.

  Claudia tossed the shampoo bottle in the air and caught it. She kept doing that.

  “Maybe I should hold that so you don’t lose it,” Trucks said.

  “I won’t lose it,” she said.

  “It seems to mean a lot to you,” Gerald said.

  “Yeah,” she said. Then she closed one eye and looked at the bottle real close. “Yeah, I like it a lot.”

  “You didn’t put any on this morning,” Trucks said.

  “I wanna save it,” she said. Then she put it in her pocket like he’d told her earlier. “June said it was for important things. I wanna keep it important. And there’s not even much left.”

  Trucks hadn’t taken much from June’s onion-shaped bottle. He didn’t want her to notice any was missing. He admired that Claudia was so thoughtful about saving the scent and using it when it mattered. But then he wondered what mattered to Claudia. What it’d take for her to think something was important or valuable. He always questioned his worth with her.

  “So what’s it gonna be?” Gerald asked Trucks. “You gonna let me take you up to Billings, or are you gonna be stubborn about it? I know you’ve got your own way of doing things and probably want to continue on, hitching or whatever, but I’m offering.”

  Bolts of thought flashed through Trucks’s mind. The hitching and the boxing and the possibility of going clean for his girl. He wanted to make it simple and safe for her, but he also wanted to live on his own terms. They could only accept help for so long.

  “I was thinking it through last night,” Trucks said.

  “Figure anything out?” Gerald asked.

  Trucks looked at Claudia. She was fidgeting with the bottle in her pocket.

  “You know, I’ve got this old gambling token,” Gerald said. He pulled the token from his pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s special to Montana and can only be used here in the state. Anyhow, maybe we could flip it? Make it easier on you. Meadowlark, I take you up to Billings, drop you off, and you consider sticking around. Cutthroat,” Gerald turned the coin over, “and I drop you at the closest on-ramp and let you keep hitching. Up to you. Just thought I’d throw it out there. Anyhow, fifty-fifty ain’t bad odds.”

  Trucks looked at Claudia. She nodded.

  “All right,” Trucks said.

  “Let’s have the little miss do the flipping,” Gerald said.

  Gerald handed Claudia the token. She scooted back her chair and stood. Then she held her breath and flipped the token in the air. They watched it turn over and over. Arcing up and up until it came back down and clanged on the floor. It spun a while before it stopped.

  “Goddamn meadowlark,” Trucks said.

  DREAMER DECEIVER

  Claudia played with her toast at Hammy’s Diner in Billings. She cut off little pieces and pushed them around her plate.

  “Eat it, don’t mess around,” Trucks said. “You know how many people are out there starving to death, bare bones and begging?”

  “Sorry,” Claudia said.

  “We’re lucky to have this meal,” Trucks said.

  Claudia looked down, twisted a piece of toast in the syrup, and took a bite.

  Trucks drank his lemon water, looked at Gerald, and shook his head.

  “Not a lot of chance for a kid to be a kid sometimes,” Gerald said. “And I mean no offense by it. But you’ve both lived a tough one.”

  Gerald picked up his coffee to take a sip. He realized it was empty. He signaled the waitress, and she brought more.

  “For us it’s never been a clean, easy life. Every move is hard and precise, each meal for a reason, not just because it’s that time of the day. I’ve tried to give her joy and laughter, but survival comes first. And how many people are really out there only surviving? It’s few. It’s a small margin. It’s not how I wanted it for her, but it’s how it is with us right now. Guess it’s always how it’s been. I’m looking for better. I’m working on it.” Trucks looked at Claudia beside him. Ran a hand through her hair. Looked back at Gerald. “It all has to be for something.”

  Gerald nodded. He scraped some beans off his plate. Then he mixed them with his runny eggs and took a bite.

  “It looks like a decent town from what I saw coming in,” Trucks said. He took a bite of hash browns and looked at Claudia. She stopped playing around and took a bite too. “What do you think so far, Pepper Flake?”

  Claudia shrugged. With her mouth full, she said, “In more days I could know.”

  “See, there you go,” Gerald said. He tapped Claudia on the wrist. “I think that’s the best idea. Get your bearings. Find a warm place to stay. Wander the town. You’ll find a bunch of friendly faces around here. People who’ll stop and help. Who care. You can trust me on that. I’ve spent a good deal of time here. It’s the big city in this area, especially when you consider a town as small as out where I live.” Gerald laughed. “Me and Maddie used to bring the kids up here for the strawberry festival. Thousands and thousands of strawberries and strawberry cakes and creams and pies and, oh boy. Everybody dressed in red and white. A play area for the kids. Face painters. Balloons. Arts and crafts and the like. Our kids just really ate it up. Some people get so into it they show up in full round strawberry costumes. Wandering the festival like a big padded fruit. Ha! It really gets me. And they also do a Custer’s Last Stand Reenactment, and that’s a real holler. Dressed up in full attire with gun smoke and screaming Indians, reenacting the whole Battle of Little Big Horn. The actual battlefield’s near my homestead, believe it or not. From the look on your face, I should shut up. I just love this state, what this whole area has to offer. I’m done. I can be done with it now, promise.”

  “It’s my interested face. You don’t have to quit talking,” Trucks said.

  “I know I get going sometimes, and Maddie used to have a hell of a time slowing down this barreling train.”r />
  “I can imagine,” Trucks said. He finished his hash browns. Scraped up the last bits of egg until he’d cleaned his plate. Then he reached over and took a few strips of bacon from a pile in the center of the table.

  “Finish your milk,” Trucks said to Claudia.

  She took the glass and chugged the milk. Some if it ran down her face.

  “And wipe your chin, knucklehead,” Trucks said.

  “Everybody about done here?” Gerald asked.

  Trucks looked at Claudia. She’d finished her toast and oatmeal. It made him proud that she understood the value of not wasting anything.

  “Looks like it,” Trucks said.

  “Let’s go to the strawberry fair,” Claudia said.

  Gerald laughed. “Not until the summer, little one.”

  “I’ll pay our share when the check comes,” Trucks said. He still had a chunk of the thirty dollars he’d brought from Wisconsin.

  “Took care of it already when you two were in the bathroom washing up. I’m old. I got money to spend. You two need to save all you can.”

  “Dammit,” Trucks said. But he felt relieved. “I appreciate it, but you gotta stop being so generous.”

  “Better than spoiling the hell outta my grandkids. Like they need any more of that.”

  Trucks pulled the sachet out of his coat pocket. He handed an antibacterial wipe to Claudia and took one for himself. He offered one to Gerald.

  “It’s good to keep the skin clean. Kills the germs and bacteria. I got tired of battling colds when training for fights. My immune system would break down, even in top shape.”

  Gerald took an antibacterial wipe from the sachet.

  “And what kinda shape are you in now?” Gerald asked.

  “I guess okay. Not great. I had to go up and down weight classes a lot to pick up enough fights to pay off my bills and get this little haymaker back,” Trucks said. He nudged Claudia.