Dark August

by Katie Tallo

“Well, I’m not a kid.”

  “Clearly.”

  Stanton leans back.

  “I don’t need babysitting.”

  She looks blank. Gus is done talking to this old windbag.

  “I’d like to rest now.”

  “Take care of that head.”

  Stanton rises. Just as she enters the kitchen, Gus calls out, “And you can stop having me followed.”

  The sergeant mumbles something over her shoulder but Gus can’t make it out. The woman heads into the kitchen. Gus can hear Rory’s and Stanton’s voices in hushed tones. Then the back screen whines and shuts. Rory comes back into the den and stares at Augusta.

  “Bullet hole? What in the heck is going on?”

  “Can we just go get a pile of junk food, watch old movies, and forget everything for tonight, Rory?”

  He zips his mouth with two fingers indicating that he’s done with questions.

  Ten minutes later, they’re at the local B & H Grocer. Augusta fills her cart with sugary childhood memories. Caramel corn, cream soda, and mini powdered donuts. Rory chitchats with the deli clerk while the man slices cold cuts.

  Augusta wanders the store. That’s when she sees Miss Santos, Rose’s old nurse, in the dairy aisle inspecting each egg inside an open carton. Miss Santos glances up and spots her. Gus looks away then feels badly so she glances back and gives Miss Santos a quick nod before turning her back on her. She heads over to Rory, taps his shoulder, and tells him she’ll meet him at the front cash.

  On the way back to Rory’s, they stop for chocolate sundaes at the local Dairy Barn. Sit at a picnic table near the takeout window. They don’t talk. Just enjoy the summer evening and their ice cream. Levi licks the sticky ground at their feet. That night, they rewatch Chinatown and both Gus and Levi eat too much caramel corn. The dog vomits on the carpet. Gus goes to bed feeling sick.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Augusta wakes with a start. She’s been dreaming about Lars. About the first time she saw his facade crumble. She was waiting in the car in the casino parking lot. Late at night. Lars was standing in the headlights, talking big in front of the Akwesasne Mohawk district chief and his men. Thought he could put the screws to the chief and get stingy with the casino parking lot percentages. The guy let him yak, then one of his men slapped Lars right across the face. Not a punch. A slap. Like he was a girl. Caught Lars by surprise. Shamed him. Lars didn’t say another word. Came back to the car. Yelled at Gus for looking at him. Called the guy who slapped him a fucking grease monkey.

  SUNDAY MORNING, HER HEAD STILL MISTY, GUS ASKS RORY TO drop her at the public library while he goes to church. He thinks church would do her good, but she says she’d rather browse through the books. He doesn’t push. Once there, she uses one of the computers to look up the words grease monkey.

  Grease monkey.

  A mechanic.

  Maybe.

  Someone who is greasy and unwashed.

  Doubtful.

  A hand job with lube.

  Jesus no.

  Someone who gets things done. A hit man or hatchet man.

  Yep.

  Gus checks her phone and flips to the photo from her mother’s wall. The one Gus showed Manny. The one that might or might not be Desmond Oaks. The one with the weird ear. The one her mother wrote “Grease Monkey” on the back of. Her mother suspected it was a guy who gets things done. A hit man or hatchet man. Or maybe she knew that’s what he was.

  While she’s waiting for Rory on the sidewalk in front of the library, a gray Grand Am pulls up to the curb in front of her. The window rolls down. She can’t help but laugh when she sees who’s behind the wheel.

  “You’re so bad at this.”

  Constable Lashey shrugs sheepishly.

  “I wasn’t following you. Scout’s honor.”

  He places two fingers on his chest. She smiles, shaking her head.

  “I swear, Red. My sister lives in Merrickville. It’s just up the highway. I was there for brunch.”

  “What’s your sister’s name?”

  “Phyllis.”

  “Kids?”

  “Two.”

  “Their names?”

  “Kyle and Rachelle.”

  He’s not missing a beat. Seems more relaxed and sure of himself. She likes this side of him. She giggles. Gus never giggles and quickly stops herself. He leans out the window.

  “Where’s the pooch?”

  “Still checking up on me?”

  He raises both hands in surrender.

  “Not me. Off duty.”

  Rory pulls up across the road. She waves at Rory and heads across the street.

  “See you around, Rookie.”

  Lashey smiles and hollers back, “I swear, if I was following you, you’d never know it.”

  She tries not to blush as he drives away. Gus jumps in Rory’s car.

  “Don’t ask.”

  Rory stays quiet. She can tell he knows exactly who Lashey is.

  THAT NIGHT, STRETCHED OUT ON THE SOFA UNDER A BLANKET that smells like Rory’s aftershave, Augusta drifts in and out of sleep. Half dreaming until her bruised brain drags her under, fully and deeply.

  Jack Nicholson is in the driver’s seat of her Buick. He smells like Old Spice and he’s driving way too fast. He’s got a bandage across his nose. She can see it through the rearview mirror. She’s sitting in the back seat. It’s dark outside. Beams of light skim across her face, one after the other as the car hurtles into the darkness. She’s tired so she slips down to the floor behind the seat and curls in a ball under a blanket. When she peeks out, all the lights are gone. Jack is gone. Out the windows is black nothingness.

  She hears a strange gurgling noise. It’s her mother. She’s choking.

  Then the deafening sound of metal crunching and glass breaking pierces her eardrums.

  Augusta awakens with her mother’s name on her tongue and the residue of the dream swirling around Rory’s den. It felt so real. She can’t shake the vision of herself behind the back seat. Something about it felt so familiar.

  Suddenly, Gus sits up. She remembers. A chill washes over her. It wasn’t the Buick. It was her mother’s car. She was there. Eight years old. In the back seat under a blanket. Hiding so her mother wouldn’t find her and take her back home. Curled up in a ball as Shannon drove the car straight into the lake.

  The water was so cold.

  30

  Annalee

  THE NEXT MORNING, AUGUSTA AND LEVI ARE SITTING IN Rory’s kitchen when he comes in wearing his uniform. Tucking his wrinkled shirt into his pants. She’s sipping coffee. He gives Levi a neck rub. She wants to slap him for not telling her the truth, but she doesn’t. She decides to give him a chance.

  “What were you doing out there?”

  “Well, if you must know, I was brushing my teeth, among other things.”

  “Out near Bruce Pit, the night Shannon drove into the lake.”

  His face falls.

  “Oh, out there. As I remember it, looking into a guy on probation with a court-ordered curfew. Routine bed check. Nothing special.”

  “I think about that night sometimes. Remember things.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She sips her coffee. He’s not going to fess up. He looks at her. Worried.

  “You gonna be okay if I go to work? I could call in sick?”

  “I’ll be fine, Rory.”

  Gus knows she was in the car with her mother that night. Rory knows it too. But he won’t tell her unless she hits him over the head with it. Then he’ll blubber and beg forgiveness for simply trying to protect her. She doesn’t want any more blubbering. She wants answers.

  And she’s about to get some. But not from Rory.

  Rory pours coffee into a thermos, wraps a muffin in a paper napkin, and heads off to work.

  “You need anything, holler. I’ll come by at lunch to check in.”

  “Am I on probation too?”

  She smiles.

  He nods awkwar
dly and heads out the door.

  About two minutes later, just as Gus is letting Levi outside, her phone dings. A text. She hesitates before looking at the screen. Hoping Lars hasn’t found a way to reach her on her new cell. Hoping Rory hasn’t sent her another silly emoji.

  But it’s not Lars. And it’s not Rory. It’s Annalee Franklin, her old babysitter. Finally.

  It’s short and sweet.

  Hey Gus. It’s Annalee! I got your messages. Sorry for being MIA.

  A chill runs down her spine. Annalee was likely the last person to see Shannon before the car accident. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect. She might be able to shine some light on the dark patches in Augusta’s memories.

  Hi Annalee. How was Europe?

  Gus doesn’t care, but figures she better ease toward the nitty-gritty.

  Awesome. The Dutch are crazy!

  LOL

  Gus cringes at having typed these three ridiculous letters.

  What’s up with you, kiddo? How old RU?

  Twenty

  4COL

  Gus has no idea what that means so she cuts to the chase.

  Do you think we could meet? I want to ask you about my mother.

  Shannon? What about her?

  Do you remember the night of her car accident?

  Yeah.

  Gus can tell, even over text, that Annalee’s tone has changed.

  Can we chat in person, Annalee?

  I’m super busy what with work and just getting back.

  Annalee is blowing her off.

  Quick coffee?

  Long pause.

  Sorry, Gus, I gotta run. I’m at work. Let’s touch base next week. Bye.

  Gus stares at her phone. Waiting for Annalee to change her mind, but she doesn’t.

  BY LATE MORNING, GUS IS PACKING. SHE HAS TO SEE ANNALEE face-to-face today. Gus convinces herself it’s the right move, even though an uneasy rumbling churns in the pit of her stomach. She alleviates the belly tremors by reassuring herself that she’ll be extra careful. Make sure she’s not followed. Doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt. But she can’t stop now. Just like Shannon, she’s a dog with a bone.

  Gus crams her clothes into her duffel bag, eager to get out of Rory’s place. He ratted her out to Stanton, he broke into her house, he destroyed Shannon’s wall. He treats her like she’s still eight years old. She was foolish to stay with him. To trust him. He doles out the truth when it suits him and then acts like it’s for her own good.

  It’s time for her and Levi to take care of themselves.

  She breaks the news to Rory when he comes home for lunch. He begs her to stay, but she stands her ground. Says her head’s feeling much better. Says she’s imposed for too long already. Says she needs to get back to Rose’s.

  Levi sticks his head out the back window as they drive away. The dog’s going to miss that muddy creek. Rory stands on his back porch. Hands shoved in his front pockets, head bowed, like he’s the last kid picked for the team.

  Gus pulls onto the highway. They head back toward the city. She’s not sure if the car behind her is a tail, but just in case, she veers away from the turnpike into Ottawa at the last second and swerves onto the underpass going in the opposite direction, cutting off a Ford pickup in the process. The driver lays on the horn as they head west toward the suburb of Kanata. Back at Rory’s she called four different Supercuts in Kanata before finally finding the one where Annalee works.

  “Yes, Annalee’s in today but she’s all booked up.”

  Gus hangs up. She doesn’t need an appointment. She’d rather make a surprise visit. Annalee can’t blow her off if she’s right in front of her.

  Gus finds a spot in the mall parking lot, cracks the window for Levi, tosses him a treat, and walks across the concourse to the Supercuts. Annalee spots her through the window. Her former babysitter is now a bleached blond with purple streaks. Her glittering eye shadow sparkles as she glances at Gus then quickly looks away. Clearly not pleased to see her.

  Annalee continues styling her female customer’s long brunette hair, running her brush through it and curling the ends as she blows it dry. Her back to the front door.

  Gus enters. Another hairdresser acknowledges her with a quick nod.

  “We’re all full up today, miss, but gimme a sec and I’ll put you in the book for tomorrow.”

  Gus ignores the woman and makes a beeline for Annalee. With a salon full of clients and coworkers eyeballing them, Annalee pretends she was expecting Gus.

  “I thought that was you, Augusta. Same baby face from when you were a kid.”

  Annalee gives her an air kiss on both cheeks, then continues to dry the brunette’s hair. Gus has to shout over the drone of the blow-dryer.

  “I’m sorry to just pop by but I really wanted to finish our talk.”

  “Like I said. I’m at work. So . . .”

  Annalee points to the head she’s blow-drying.

  “I just want to know how she seemed that night.”

  “Who?”

  “My mom. Shannon.”

  “Oh.”

  “Was she herself?”

  Gus is irritated with having to shout their entire conversation to a room full of perked ears.

  “Um. She was pretty amped up, I guess. She was never like that. Your mom was the queen of cool.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like she tracked mud into the house and didn’t even notice. Didn’t care. I asked her if she was okay and she said she needed me to stay longer. She said she had to go back out. So she did and, well, you know.”

  Annalee looks around the salon, not wanting to say the words. Gus shouts.

  “She didn’t say anything or do anything weird?”

  Annalee pulls the brunette’s hair by accident. The woman glares at her and pushes her hands away. Annalee turns off the blow-dryer and begins perfuming the long mane with a cloud of hair spray while shielding the woman’s eyes with one hand. In a more hushed tone, Annalee answers Gus.

  “Not that I can remember. It was a long time ago and I try not to think about it. I know you miss her but really, do you think it’s a good idea to go over what happened that night?”

  “Yes. It was my mother who died. And if she killed herself I want to know.”

  Gus realizes she’s still using her blow-dryer voice and the entire salon is dead silent. Watching the pair through the wall of mirrors. Augusta’s cheeks burn hot and her neck turns blotchy red. Gus feels like she might pass out.

  Annalee goes white with worry. Stops spritzing the brunette and takes Augusta’s arm. She pulls her across the salon, down a back hallway, and into a staff kitchenette. Annalee turns to face her. She takes Gus by the shoulders.

  “Oh my gosh, Augusta. Your mom wasn’t suicidal. Not by a long shot.”

  “But she drove into a lake.”

  Annalee bites her lip. And just like that, there’s the sweet teenager Gus once knew. The one who loved dance movies and caramel corn.

  “I’ve been a total bitch, haven’t I? It’s just that I haven’t talked about that night, ever, and I thought I’d never have to. I always felt so guilty about it.”

  “Guilty?”

  “After your mum went back out, my boyfriend, Chet, you remember Chet, well, he came over and we smoked some weed and had some of your mom’s wine and after he left I passed out and the next thing I knew the police were at your door and your mom was dead and I’m so sorry, I was a terrible babysitter and I’m an even worse person.”

  Tears drip from Annalee’s glittery eyes. Gus hugs Annalee tight. Annalee lets out a deep breath. One that she’s been holding since the beginning of her confession. Gus releases her and looks her in the eyes.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But what if she tried to call me?”

  “Do you think she did?”

  “No. But what if she had?”

  Annalee’s wet eyelashes bat up and down as she tries to stop crying. Gus picks up a small paper nap
kin from a stack on the counter and holds it out to Annalee. The hairdresser takes it and dabs her eyes. Gus reaches out and gently touches Annalee’s shoulder. She looks at her until Annalee finally makes eye contact.

  “Annalee, I don’t care about what didn’t happen. I just want to know everything that did.”

  Annalee sits down at the small plastic table in the middle of the kitchenette and motions for Gus to join her. Gus sits. Annalee fiddles with a tiny salt shaker, examining it, as if she can see the past in its tiny crystals.

  “I know people say they do but I remember it like it was yesterday. After your mom got home she went into the garage. She came back out with some papers and her camera. The one she bought the week before. Remember she was showing us how it could shoot in the dark? Infrared or something. She videotaped you eating your supper with all the lights out and you didn’t want to be filmed so she filmed the puppy instead and you got super pissed off.”

  Gus remembers. She was perpetually angry with Shannon back then. And with Levi. Annalee keeps talking.

  “She had the manual for the camera too. Her hands were shaking so much she couldn’t read it. I asked if I could help. She told me the adapter wouldn’t fit. She said she needed to copy a video from the camera onto a memory stick. This little orange thing she kept holding up like it would magically do what she wanted it to do. She was almost in tears. We sat in the living room. I read the instructions while she followed them. We got it working and we copied the video.”

  “What was on the video?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t look at it. She just copied it to that USB stick, then she erased the memory card in the camera.”

  “Did she do anything else?”

  “She checked on you, said goodbye to the dog, and then she had to get going. Kept checking her watch. She said she didn’t know when she’d be back. She just took the camera and left.”

  An image surfaces in the back of Augusta’s mind. She can see her mother talking to Annalee in the living room. They’re deep in conversation. Distracted. Gus sees herself tiptoeing across the hall without either of them noticing. Then the memory fades.

  “I always felt bad I didn’t ask what was wrong.”

  “And where was I when the police came?”

  “In bed.”

  Gus is confused. “All night?”