by Brent, Cora
My bones know that I’m back in Texas.
Before I spot the sign on the Interstate, twin feelings of dread and familiarity begin crawling through my blood, reminding me that nine years have passed since I was on this side of the state line. The moment might be sentimental, thinking about the long line of Texas sons that came before me, but in my case they are nothing to be proud of. At least the route I chose doesn’t require me to pass through Arcana. The choice is deliberate.
A buzz from my phone, which sits in the closest cup holder, accompanies a text from Shane. I called him while stopped at a New Mexico gas station and told him to expect me before the sun sets.
Stay hungry. Got meat ready to grill.
My map ETA tells me I’ll be in Hutton within the hour so I just answer with a thumbs up.
I have no memory of ever being in the panhandle before, that geographic wedge jutting up out of the western quadrant of the state. Besides a childhood visit to San Antonio, my Texas experiences were pretty well confined to Arcana and the surrounding hardscrabble towns where fortunes rise and fall on oil. The sights are all new to me and yet not much different from the haunted places of my childhood. I never planned to see Texas again. And I might have kept that plan. But then my best friend asked for a favor.
About a month ago Shane was crashing on my sofa by night and by day grudgingly doing hard labor on a framing crew at a housing development east of Phoenix. And then came the phone call. A godmother he hadn’t seen in fifteen years had died, leaving behind a house and a business. She wasn’t the kind of godmother who was willing to take in an ornery teenager after his mother died, not even following a near fatal incident in a foster home. But she thought of him when she was handed the news that her latest bout with lung cancer was destined to be terminal and she had no close family who deserved a place in her will. Shane had been born in Texas too, although he didn’t think of himself as being from Texas. This godmother named Ruby had been a kindly employer when Shane’s mom got pregnant by a married cop with a side business dealing meth. He was knifed in the throat during a deal that turned violent. It was a fucked up situation and must have something to do with why Shane remembers nothing of Texas. He’d grown up in Arizona.
So there’s Shane, sleeping on my couch, working twelve hour days in the sun while his car plays a daily match of hide and seek with the repo man, when he finds out that he now owns a house and a bakery. He gets to Hutton and learns that the bakery is in crappy financial shape because Ruby had been too sick to run it properly for a while. Shane doesn’t know what to do about this so he calls me and asks if I’ll come out for a few months and help him figure out how to make the place turn a profit.
Of course my own years of construction work have nothing to do with mixing cookie batter, but I’m good at organizing and I know how to get things done. I didn’t even consider rejecting him. Shane and I have been through too much shit together. I don’t have family and there aren’t many guys in my circle even worth grabbing a beer with. Shane’s the only person who could make me go to this kind of trouble. Besides, I’ve been worried about him. Things tend to go sideways for Shane when he’s left on his own for too long. The old demons come scratching at his door. Addiction. Depression. He can only hold them at bay for so long before needing a hand to lift him back into the light.
There are all kinds of signs now promising that Hutton is within reach. The road signs boast ‘Hutton State University’ with cartoons of howling coyotes. Residential neighborhoods are thickening on all sides and in the distance looms an unremarkable clot of downtown buildings. I’ve already gathered that there isn’t much to Hutton, aside from the university. It’s just another small western city that’s too far outside a major metropolitan base to attract much notice. No one would go out of their way to visit Hutton.
I’m aware that his house is within walking distance to campus. Squinting at tiny maps on phone screens while driving is something I like to avoid so the directions were memorized before I left Phoenix. I swing right at the next light and drive slowly as I turn this way and that through the narrow streets. The neighborhood is neither shabby nor decadent. Some of the yards could use a trim but the evenly spaced tract homes look comfortable. The next left will be Shane’s street.
A minute later I’m braking in front of a single story red brick house with powder blue shutters. A lush oak tree accents the front yard, spidery branches fanning out over the uncut lawn. From here I can see the roofline of the house behind it, meaning the yards are shallow, yet Shane had mentioned that a pool has been squeezed into the backyard. It’s a far nicer place than I’m used to living in.
A college kid rolls by on a motorized scooter and slows down to eye the way I’m idling beside the curb. I don’t flinch under his gaze and notice he’s probably about my age. But the way he drops his eyes, hunches his shoulders and slinks away indicate that he’s younger, or at least weaker, in all the ways that matter.
Shane must have been keeping a lookout for my truck because I’ve barely hopped out of the driver’s seat when the front door swings open. He’s shirtless and even from here I can see his wiry frame has gained a few pounds since he left Arizona a month ago and I’m glad. Relieved. He swears he hasn’t been using since moving to Texas and now I’m ready to believe him.
Shane saunters to the center of the yard, raises his arms and whoops an ear piercing rebel yell.
“Hell yeah!” He punches the air. “My boy’s here to liven up the place.”
I snort and move to the truck bed to dig the old army surplus duffel bag out of the back. I didn’t pack a ton of stuff because I don’t own a ton of stuff and because I’m only planning to be here until August. Shane said the guest room already contains a dresser and a bed and I can’t imagine I’ll need much else.
“What’s with the southern drawl?” I holler to my best friend but I’m grinning. My smile never comes easily but Shane always manages to bring it out.
He’s moving in for a fist bump now, then changes his mind and squeezes my rib cage in a hug. The rocks of dread that have collected in my stomach since crossing the Texas line are slowly dissolving. The town haunting my memories is still two hundred miles away and I was someone else when I lived there. Shane knows more of that backstory than anyone else but even Shane’s knowledge is skeletal at best. I ought to relax. These hang ups are mine alone. No one cares about the Hempstead boy from Arcana. No one would even recognize him. Or give a damn if they did.
Shane tries to take on the burden of my duffel bag but I brush him off and prop it on my shoulder. I’d never let anyone else carry my garbage and besides, I’m easily twice as strong as my best friend, although I’d never brag about it out loud.
He gestures that I ought to follow him into the house. “How was the drive?”
“Boring as hell.” I’m getting a kick out of the fact that Shane is walking into a house that belongs to him. Of course no one is happy that his poor godmother is dead but the guy has never caught a single break in life. This is his chance to stay on the straight and narrow.
Maybe Shane hears my thoughts because he comes to a sudden stop just outside the doorway and swivels to meet my eye. “Look, thanks for coming, man. I know this is a favor I’ll probably never be able to repay.”
There is nothing in my history that points to a talent for saving small bakeries. But his faith in me is unwavering and maybe he just needs someone around who also has faith in him.
“I don’t mind the vacation from the desert. There will still be plenty of houses to build when I return in August.”
He keeps hesitating there in the doorway and I kind of want to get moving. The bag on my shoulder is becoming awkward to hold and a bead of sweat slides down the back of my neck. But Shane’s looking uncertain and the way he rakes a hand through his mop of hair confirms that there’s something on his mind. People often ask if we’re brothers and it’s true we both have the same nondescript shade of brown hair, along with ordinary brown eyes. P
lus neither one of us are everyday shavers so there’s always a bit of visible jaw scruff. But Shane’s more the vulnerable pretty boy type that girls want to fold into their arms. Meanwhile, I hit puberty late but eventually acquired the big, muscled form and squared off features that made the men in my family look as dangerous as they really were. I don’t think Shane and I look alike but people somehow see a parallel between us. Maybe there’s something similar about the way we carry ourselves in the world; two castoff boys forced to test our wits at a young age with mixed results.
Shane glances behind him, peering through the screen door. “I just want to give you a heads up. Lana’s here. She’s out back, keeping an eye on the steaks.”
I know about Lana. Ruby’s house came with two college girl roommates who’d already signed a lease for the next year. One of them instantly became Shane’s girlfriend.
“Things are good with you guys?” I ask him. Shane’s never had a problem getting girls but from the way he always goes on and on about Lana, I know he’s already pretty attached.
The grin on his face is full of eagerness. “Things are crazy good. She’s something else, Jay. You’ll like her.”
“I’m sure I will.”
His smile fades a little. “I’ve been pretty up front about shit but, you know, I left out a few details.” He shrugs. “She’s from a different kind of world.”
He means a world where you’re not required to slip a knife into your sleeve at dinner in order to fight off a midnight attack from the scumbag who receives state checks to keep you under his roof. A world where it never crosses your mind to behave like an animal and stalk the dumpsters at a nearby diner in order to seize the moment when trash bags filled with uneaten food scraps will be carelessly tossed away. That’s the world Shane and I know.
That, and worse.
If Shane’s worrying that I’ll spill some of his secrets then he ought to know better. “No judgment here. I’m not in the habit of sharing details myself so I won’t be ratting you out.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jay. I was just thinking this could be more than a chance for me. It could be a chance for both of us. To start over.”
I’ve started over before. It’s not as neat or clean as it sounds. I don’t feel any ambition to try again. Besides, my life in Phoenix isn’t awful. I’ll be able to step back into a construction crew upon returning. The apartment that I’m currently subletting to a friend whose girl kicked him to the curb will still be there.
But now Shane’s looking all hopeful with his ‘start over’ plans lighting up his eyes and I don’t see a reason to kill his good mood.
“Yeah, maybe,” I tell him and try to sound cheerful. He gestures for me to follow him into the house and I cooperate without sermonizing.
There are things I’ve learned the hard way. You can change your hometown and your name and the idea of who you are. But you can’t change where you’ve been and who you’ve known.
You can’t change what it’s already done to you.
Jay
The dark paneling is a dim contrast to the summer sunshine and I have to blink a few times to get oriented. There are flashes of orange everywhere; orange fake flowers and an orange chair and orange glass bottles lined up on a windowsill.
Shane is pointing out things that are obvious and not so obvious. We are standing in the living room. The kitchen is on the left. The hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom is on the right and the guest room is at the end. There’s a flat panel door awkwardly located on the far wall of the living room, the doorway cutting right into the paneling pattern. Shane says it leads to the second set of living quarters where Lana and her roommate live. He explains that the house had been split that way before Ruby bought it and she’d rented out the apartment for years.
Shane suggests that I should just drop my bag where I stand for now. He’s already shoving a sliding glass door open. On the other side a girl in a red bikini has her back to us in front of a smoking grill. She emits a squeal of surprise when Shane grabs her from behind and growls into her neck. Then she laughs, notices me and waves a long two-pronged fork in greeting.
“So you’re the famous Jay Phoenix from Phoenix.”
She’s blatant about appraising me, looking me over as if I’m auditioning for something.
I don’t like the scrutiny but I can hardly blame her for being curious. And I know how to act properly when I should.
I force my voice to sound light and cheerful. “Yep, according to my driver’s license I’m Jay Phoenix from Phoenix.”
She laughs again with a natural kind of energy that’s woven into some personalities. “I’m Lana,” she says, leaning into Shane when he slides a comfortable arm around her waist. “And I’m already a fan of yours because this guy never stops talking about you. It’s JayJayJay all the time. If you were prettier I’d be jealous.”
I doubt Lana ever had a reason to be jealous of anyone. She has to be one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever observed up close. Her smile is Miss America quality, her richly brown complexion is flawless, and her thick black hair cascades to her waist.
Shane plucks the fork out of his girlfriend’s hand and pokes at the sizzling blobs of meat on the grill. He’s overseeing enough steak to feed a sizable frat house.
“You still insist on eating your meat burned to a crisp, Jay?”
I sink into a cushioned chair at the umbrella-shaded patio table. “Blackened without a trace of pink.”
“You got it.”
Lana decides that we should eat outside. She begins setting out paper plates and napkins. She likes to talk a lot. She’s from Hawaii and I can’t guess why she traded island paradise for the Texas panhandle but she must have her reasons. She’s on the college swim team. She majors in psychology but won’t be graduating when she should because she changed majors so many times. She’s lived in the house for a year and feels bad that she never knew how sick Ruby was until hospice care showed up.
And she’s wild about Shane. She doesn’t even have to say it. I notice the way her eyes spark every time she looks at him.
But now she’s sitting across from me and leaning on her elbows while she inspects me once more. “Such a weird coincidence,” she says. “The fact that your last name is Phoenix and you live in Phoenix.”
There’s nothing coincidental about it. My last name is Phoenix because that’s the name I chose. Shane shoots me a look. He knows I don’t like explaining things.
“Pretty big coincidence,” I agree and Lana drops the subject because her phone buzzes.
“Jay, my Care Girl will be home soon. You’ll love her. She’s just your type.” Lana taps the back of my hand to reassure me that although she’s known me for a lengthy time span of fifteen minutes, she knows what kind of girl I go for.
“I wasn’t aware I had a type,” I say and hope the comment doesn’t come off as rude.
Shane arrives with a plate piled with glistening steaks. “Jay’s just been looking for a challenge. That’s why he’s never settled down.” He drops into Lana’s chair because she has left the table to dig around in a red and white plastic cooler.
“You want a beer, baby?” Lana asks as she paws through ice. “And what about you, Jay?”
“Sure, I’ll take a beer.” I kick Shane under the table. “What the hell do you mean I’m looking for a challenge?”
He forks the top steak and tosses it onto my plate with a smirk of amusement. “You know, a ball buster who will make you work for it.”
I don’t know how he got that idea. I don’t want my balls busted and I sure as hell don’t want to crawl around at some girl’s feet begging her to do the job. There’s no one waiting for me to return to Phoenix because that’s my preference. I’m no manwhore player, hopping from one girl’s bed to the next, but I’m not boyfriend material either. Sometimes my hookup situations go on for a while and that’s where it ends. Shane probably thinks I can be tempted because I’ve been living
like a monk for the past six months after the girl I’d been steadily fucking got sick of hoping for a real relationship and told me in a nice way to shit or get off the pot.
Needless to say, I got off the pot.
Last week I heard she’s sporting a brand new diamond from a high school boyfriend she reconnected with. Good for her. These days it’s easier to get satisfied with my own hand and some amateur internet porn. I’m the problem. All I have to offer is dick and no matter how dirty she tries to be, a girl eventually wants more than dick. She wants heart too and she won’t find that in me.
Lana objects to the idea that her friend is a ball buster. “Don’t go scaring him off. She’s a total sweetheart, Jay. I swear.”
Lana exchanges a look with Shane and I figure out what’s going on. I’m going to be set up with ‘Care Girl’ in the hopes that we’ll coexist as a happy, wholesome quartet. This must be part of the whole starting over package. At some point I’ll need to break the news that I have no plans to be domesticated.
“Wait.” Shane smacks his thigh. “Does she still have something going on with that piece of shit in the Acura?”
Lana groans. “Oh god, I can’t stand Alden. He’s a total tool and she needs to unload him for good.” She turns thoughtful eyes on me. “Jay over here doesn’t seem like a tool.”
Shane shoves the steak sauce in my direction. “Jay’s no tool for sure.”
I don’t feel the urge to confirm my tool status one way or the other and no one’s waiting for me to chime in anyway so I cut up my steak and stay quiet. Shane pulls Lana into his lap and the two of them start sucking face because apparently it’s too much to expect that they can keep their hands off each other for eight seconds.
The time may come when I’ll need to articulate that screwing a pouty roommate who may be attached to an angry Acura-driving ex won’t be a leading item on my agenda. I’ll have to find a way to get the point across without seeming like an asshole. Shane’s used to my attitude but Lana and her friend aren’t and just because I don’t want to fuck around where I sleep doesn’t mean I want to be hated. If Care Girl makes a move I’ll just pretend my dick doesn’t work. I’ll invent a medical condition if I have to.