Fay: A Novel

by Larry Brown

  He pushed himself up on his hands and saw the whole road consumed and living in bright yellow fire and the truck back up the road in flames, saw one of the firefighters with his arms aflame stagger across the highway and fall flailing at himself into the grass. He was almost tempted to just lie back down and cover his head with his arms. Save himself. But then he was running back, the fire on his left cooking the side of his face, and he saw the door open on the cab and the other firefighter tumbled out, running crazily, his pants on fire, beating at himself as the other one had. He ran by Sam shouting something and Sam reached out and grabbed him and tripped him and threw him down and ripped off what was left of his uniform shirt and rolled him on the highway until he was out and smoking and then he was up again and going around the nose of the cab and he saw the second firefighter then on his back in the highway, already charred black and not moving. The third one was moving in the ditch, moaning. But the driver was still alive, that was the thing of it. He had been badly burned by the blast but somewhat protected by being inside the cab, but when Sam drew close he could see that the cab itself was on fire, and the driver was sitting in the midst of it, and for one awful moment he looked at Sam and then screamed with every bit of air he had left in his lungs: “Shoot me for God’s sake!”

  The road itself was burning where he stood at the edge of the pool of fire but already that fire was dying down, the fuel being consumed, and he put his hand up over his face and spread his fingers and tried to get closer, but the heat was just too great. He stood there, wavering, and he could hear Joe Price yelling something at him that he couldn’t understand or try to, but all he could focus on was the yellow face of the driver where the fire inside the cab was cooking him quickly to death. He kept screaming for Sam to do it and he did put his hand on his revolver and tried to get closer, but already he could feel that most of his hair was gone and that his skin was blistering.

  The driver made one last plea: “Shoot me oh God put me out of it!”

  That was the last thing he said. A pocket of flame roared up and engulfed him even as the fire trucks screamed in from both sides and the men jumped off with the hoses swelling and started putting water on the truck and the dead smoking boy in the road, and Sam couldn’t take his eyes off what he had already seen.

  HE WAS IN the hospital for five days. His hands were the worst, from where he had thrown the old firefighter down and smothered the flames, and the young doctor told him he’d been lucky, only second degree in spots that still hurt like shit, he knew, but, “Hell, look, bud, that hair on your head’ll grow back.” The doctor was amused that it had even blistered his dick through his pants: “Hey Hopalong, lucky as a shit-house mouse, can’t grow a new tallywhacker you know.” It had blistered the fronts of his legs, and places you wouldn’t have thought, like the back of his head and under his left arm, a raw red angry place there. Fire does crazy shit, man, the doctor told him, sitting on the edge of his bed, letting Sam sneak a cigarette once in a while at the hospital just off 55 at Sardis. Some days they talked tractors and fishing. The doc had a place near Jerry Lee Lewis at Nesbitt and invited him up for bream.

  His buddies brought milkshakes from the Sonic and fat chili dogs with cheese and helped him eat while his hands were still in the bandages. By the fourth day he was out in the coffee shop carefully playing cards and drinking coffee with an old codger who was dying of cancer, and who told him that he used to race pigeons in New York State when he was just a boy.

  A sleek nurse with black hair that reminded him of Amy’s came in one night at two and woke him gently with her soft hands and tried to get his pajamas open but he sent her away and turned back to his pillow and his troubled dreams, his burned hands cradling each other.

  Joe Price came in one day after a round of golf and brought him a half pint of Wild Turkey that they smuggled out to a little patch of grass and a table with ashtrays. Joe said there was plenty of talk and Sam didn’t ask about what.

  He read in the Panola County Times about Alesandra. They didn’t have her picture. Another piece told the fire story.

  And late at night when the halls were dark and the TVs were shut down for the day and the nurses were squeaking their way up the tiled floors in their white rubber-soled shoes and he was lying in his bed with his hands hurting and knowing it was a small thing compared to the old man from New York, he imagined carrying the gas-truck driver to safety, the fire ax in his hand, blood trailing them in drops that dotted the yellow bars in the road.

  NOW SHE WAS heading across the water in a narrow skiff with an old outboard chugging. She trailed her hand in the afternoon waves and thought only of Sam. She watched Aaron’s back in the sunlight and the muscles that moved in it and she watched his arms and the tendons and veins that lived there and then felt hot all over and ready to get there and have this new one inside her because she knew already what they were going to do. He skirted the edge of the beach and pulled in and landed the boat easily against the sand, killed the motor, stepped out and waited. Once she was out he pulled the skiff on in, tilted up the motor and left it.

  It was still hot while they walked across the sand. He stopped one time and kissed her hard and deep. She pushed her woman’s bone against him.

  “I bet you don’t even know how fine you are,” he said, and drew back from her and looked down into her eyes. He turned and caught her by the hand and pulled her on.

  There was a path that went through pine trees and the mosquitoes were bad. She fanned them away from her face but still they bit. The pine needles felt good under her feet. She barely saw the birds that were singing in the trees, only felt his hand pulling her on. Soon she stepped beside him and slipped his arm around her waist and tried to lean her head against him as they walked.

  She saw the cabin before they got to it. There was a low deck and a nice pond and two aluminum boats tethered to the dock, fishing poles upright in a stand like umbrellas in a store. She watched him pull keys from his pocket and then they were across the gravel path and up to the door and he was opening it and they went inside. A dark room where the blinds were drawn but she could see just fine. It was cool in there and the bed he led her to was freshly made and then she was pulling at her clothes and at his and kissing him and he lay down with her and she was ready and a little crazy and when he slid it in she smiled, open and free.

  “God,” she whispered. “Don’t that feel wonderful?”

  He agreed that it did. He turned her gently on her left side and pillowed her head with his hand and moved her top leg up and slid into her deeper. He began to move against her and she closed her eyes and held on to his arm. If there was anything better than this she didn’t know what it could be. But she wouldn’t let him hurt the baby.

  Long after that when they were settled and satisfied and comfortable they smoked cigarettes lazily. She began to tell him about Chris Dodd. He listened without expression, one arm over his head holding the pillow, the big muscle relaxed, and he didn’t seem like it bothered him that much. He only said, “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  Later they dressed and went out. She stopped to wait for him to lock the door and saw bream schooling up out in the pond. He saw her watching them and stopped beside her.

  “We’ll come back one day and give em a try if you want to,” he said. She smiled up at him.

  “I’d like that. I can dress em. Cook em too,” she said. “I need to cook for you sometime. I’d like to.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and they went back up the path toward the boat and the beach.

  He went about the business of throwing Gigi out as soon as they got back. She sat on the porch and listened. There was some screaming that went on upstairs and some doors were slammed and then more screaming and then steps clumping down the steep stairs she’d seen and then the back door slammed. In less than a minute a motor started. The car came from around the side of the house and Gigi stopped and yelled some things from
inside the safety of it. When Fay started up from her chair she hauled ass, flipping her off as she went. The little car got smaller down the road and then Aaron came out.

  “Where’s your mama?” Fay said.

  “I don’t know. Let’s eat.”

  She reached into the Arby’s bag and lifted out his food and his tea and gave it to him. He unwrapped it immediately and started eating. She should have been hungry but she only nibbled at some of the fries and ate about half the sandwich. Finally she pushed it away.

  “What’s the matter?” he said. “You ain’t hungry?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Hell, you ain’t had anything since breakfast.”

  “I ate all I want,” she said.

  “Well if you ain’t going to eat the rest of that roast beef let me have it.”

  She pushed it over.

  “You want the french fries too?”

  “Might as well.”

  She slid them over and got up with the rest of her tea and wandered across the porch. Boats were moving out in the water just as they had that morning and people in shorts and swimsuits were walking on the dock.

  She turned her head to look at his broad back. He was chewing and picking up french fries one at a time from the table. He seemed different now again, so much so that she was almost uneasy speaking to him. Yet he’d been so kind and gentle inside the cabin.

  “Can we go over there sometime?”

  He looked up, his jaws moving slowly.

  “Where?”

  “Over there. Across the road. Maybe look at some of them boats?”

  Already he was nodding, still picking up the fries.

  “Sure. Anytime you want to.”

  “After while?”

  “Well … I need to run over to Biloxi after while.”

  “What you got to do?”

  “Check on things.”

  “Can I go?”

  He turned his head slowly, pushed back from the table slightly and took a drink of his tea.

  “What you want to go over there for?”

  There was something his eyes did sometimes, a way they seemed to look all the way through her, as if they were searching for either honesty or lies in her words. She didn’t look away, though. She’d been to bed with him now. It looked like maybe she was going to stay with him for now so she was going to have to get to know him, find out what he was all about.

  “I don’t know. Just to be with you.” She thought that ought to be enough.

  He picked up one more french fry and chewed it.

  “I don’t know how much I want you hanging around there.”

  “What you gonna tell your mother about us?”

  “Nothing. Any more questions?”

  “Yeah. Just one, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why are you such a fuckin asshole sometimes?”

  He studied her for a long time. Then he got up and walked to the other end of the porch, put his hands on his hips, and stood looking down on the traffic on the road. She moved to the steps and sat down and put her arms around her knees. She didn’t look around when she heard him coming back, but when he knelt beside her she felt his big hand light like a little bird on her shoulder. And then his hand was cupping her chin and turning her face to him. She could see the slightest bit of rough stubble on his chin and cheeks where he needed to shave again, a little lighter than his hair, but she could also see that all the anger had gone out of his eyes. He looked like he was sorry. He leaned forward and kissed her.

  “I just got upset over what you told me about that guy. Hey. That ain’t your fault, okay?”

  “I know that. I know it wasn’t my fault. I did kiss him, though.”

  He shook his head without taking his eyes off hers.

  “It don’t make no difference. Come on and go with me. You can get you a shower and I’ll go up and take mine and shave. Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  There were already some cars and trucks in the parking lot when they pulled in and stopped. The sky was cloudy and Aaron rolled up the windows before he shut off the El Camino. Fay got out with her purse and smoothed the front of the short black dress she had found upstairs, then he came around and got her by the hand and they walked to the front door. Gigi’s picture was gone.

  Aaron stood there, looking at where it had been.

  “Looks like she picked it up on her way out,” he said.

  Inside it was dim and full of smoke and people drinking. The stage was lit but nobody was dancing. Music was playing and the colored lights were revolving but she guessed maybe the dancing girls didn’t start this early. Aaron led her to the bar and pulled out a stool for her. A different bartender was on duty now and as she looked around she saw two waitresses watching her and talking about her.

  “I got some stuff to take care of back here,” Aaron said. “It may take me a while but we’ll go get something to eat when I get done, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. He summoned the bartender.

  “Harry, just give her whatever she wants, all right?”

  He gave her one pat halfway down her back and walked away, behind the bar and through that rear door. She watched it close and then the bartender was standing in front of her.

  “What can I get for you?” he said.

  “You got a cold beer?”

  “Sure do. Bud okay?”

  “Bud’s fine.”

  He turned to get it and she reached into her purse for her cigarettes and lighter. She set her purse on the floor beside her stool and lit up. The waitress who had first served her that Sunday night walked by with a tray in her hands and murmured, “You work fast, honey,” and went on across the room.

  The bartender opened the beer and set it in front of her and brought her an ashtray. Then he turned away and started talking to a couple of men down at the end of the bar. She sat there and sipped her beer. It was very cold. She smoked her cigarette and listened to a couple of songs. Once she saw the bartender step to a small black box with blue lights mounted above a beer cooler and change out a tape. She wished they’d play some country but it was mostly all rock.

  She looked at the beer can and knew again that she’d have to cut down on her drinking pretty soon. She didn’t really want to, but she was going to have to ask Aaron if he could take her to a doctor one day and see if she could find out when the baby was supposed to come. If she could have gotten to spend a little more time with Reena she could have asked her some questions about what happened to you when you had a baby, since she’d already had two.

  She stubbed out her smoke and drank some more of the beer. More people started coming in, the door admitting brief shafts of light each time somebody opened it. But when the door closed, the room would settle back into that premature darkness that she was beginning to get used to already. She was trying not to think about what she’d done to Sam. She guessed she wasn’t good enough for him. Him worried about her up there and her down here fucking somebody already. She wondered what would happen if by some miracle Sam found out where she was and came in here to get her.

  “How you doing? Need another beer?”

  She looked up from her thoughts to see the bartender facing her from where he was mixing drinks for some other customers.

  “I’m fine for now. Thanks.”

  He nodded and went back to his work. A few of the men along the bar glanced at her or looked longingly at her but nobody came over to try and buy her a drink or talk to her. She wondered if that was because they had seen her walk in with Aaron. She wouldn’t have minded having somebody to talk to. She thought she might try to talk to the waitress if she came back by, but she’d been over in a far corner talking to two men at a table for a while and was still over there. It didn’t matter. She’d just sit here and drink her beer and wait for Aaron to get through with his business back there, whatever it was.

  She thought about this afternoon. It had been so good she wanted
to do it again as soon as they could and maybe that would be tonight. Maybe he’d move her to the room upstairs. There was a balcony up there. She’d be able to go down to the kitchen and get her coffee and then go back up and sit out there and look at the boats and the water.

  She thought about Gigi some. She probably wasn’t nothing but a high-class whore. And then she thought: What about you, girl? You ain’t no better. You fucked him just for a place to stay. But she told herself that this was different. She didn’t strip off her clothes for any man who walked through the door of this place.

  She started drinking a little faster, just from having to think about all the stuff in her head. She finished her beer and called to the bartender for another and he brought it. More people were coming in and she saw a man in an orange suit and a black tie come from the back and set up a tall stool near the door. He had a roll of money in his hand thick enough to choke a goat, like Aaron that first night. And then she saw the waitresses start going among the tables, evidently asking for money, because some men started handing it over and others finished their drinks and got up and went out. It was getting close to showtime. She saw now that they didn’t look for free.

  She checked her watch and saw that she’d been in here forty minutes already. She would have thought he’d be back out by now but she didn’t know anything to do other than just wait on him. She was starting to get hungry and she was hoping he’d take her somewhere they had some good food. Eat a good supper, go back to his house and make love again, that would be nice. She was happy to keep helping Arlene around the house. She liked making the beds, putting out towels, cooking in the kitchen. It might even turn out to be like having a real home again. But still she couldn’t help thinking about Sam.