“Please give it a try,” said Tone.
Braines walked to the third man, but the third man turned away. “Do you know me?” Braines said. The man did not answer. Braines walked back to the others. “Bashful, ain’t he?”
“Sometimes,” said Mace.
“He’s tougher than he looks,” said Tone.
“Not with that hat, he ain’t,” said Braines.
“You must think you’re funny,” said Tone.
“What?” said Braines.
“You and Sandy,” said Mace. “You like to make jokes, don’t you?”
“Never judged a man for laughing,” said Braines.
“Your jokes must be very important to you,” said Tone.
“Jokes are a perfect escape,” said Mace.
“Never thought humor was my specialty,” said Braines.
“It really isn’t,” said Mace. “So don’t worry.”
“He’s right,” said Tone. “Do you know why?”
“No,” said Braines. “Not sure I care to.”
“Because when you’re funny, you can make up for deficiencies in your story,” said Mace.
“We should be getting along, Bane,” said Handy. “I don’t like the way they’re talking to us.”
“We met a lot of people today,” said Mace.
“Yeah,” said Tone. “The vacationers all pretended to be criminals, and all the criminals pretended to be on vacation.”
“Been nice meeting y’all,” said Braines.
Mace turned toward the third man in the hat and dress, who was curling his hand toward the trees. “Handy,” said Mace. “Our partner wants to introduce himself to you.”
Handy looked at Braines, and Braines gave him the sign. Then Handy started jogging away from all of them, as fast as he could. Tone and Mace drew weapons, and shouted at Handy, who froze. “Alright,” he said. He began walking toward the third man. Braines watched them walk together into the trees.
“Chum,” said Braines. “I need you to put down the Good Book and look at these men.”
Churn put down the book. He looked at the men. He smiled.
“What the shit, Chum?” said Braines.
“How are you, Churn?” said Tone.
Churn said nothing, because he was mute.
“Y’all know Churn?” said Braines.
“Churn here used to do our our dirty work,” said Mace.
Churn smiled broader. Braines saw the long-haired man in the hat and dress come back to the clearing.
“Me and Churn and Handy all repented in prison,” said Braines.
“So you were in prison?” said Tone.
“Now seems like a time for honesty,” said Braines.
“Why?” said Mace.
“Don’t know,” said Braines. “Sometimes a man just knows.”
“And you did a lot of repenting there?” said Mace.
“Sure did,” said Braines. “Handy too. With Churn I can only guess.”
“Repenting’s a wonderful thing,” said Tone. “Not many are willing to do it.”
“It’s such a nice gesture,” said Mace. “But your crime wasn’t really that bad.”
“It was heinous,” said Braines. “I’m just happy you fellas remember it.”
“It must have been heart-wrenching,” said Mace, “being falsely imprisoned like you were.”
“We had a fair trial,” said Braines. “We deserved every bit of that punishment.”
“You can believe what you want,” said Tone.
“If it makes you feel better,” said Mace.
“I don’t feel good at all,” said Braines.
Braines saw the third man begin curling his hand toward the trees.
“He wants to get to know you,” said Mace.
“Please don’t keep him waiting,” said Tone.
“Me and the Devil are on good terms,” said Braines. “He’ll recognize me.”
“Good for you,” said Mace. He and Tone put their weapons in Braines’ face. “But our man’s no devil,” he said. “He’s worse than that.”
“Tell me one thing,” said Braines. “Would I have been safer back in prison?”
“No,” said Tone.
“We were headed there next,” said Mace.
“What if I hadn’t repented so much?” said Braines.
“Wouldn’t have meant a thing,” said Tone.
“So there was nothing I could have done differently?” said Braines.
“Nothing,” said Tone.
“You did as well as anybody,” said Mace.
“Will you take care of Churn for me?” said Braines.
“No,” said Tone.
“Churn is next,” said Mace.
“Let him come with me,” said Braines. “Please. He’s got no friends. All he’s got is that damn book.”
“Our partner takes one at a time,” said Mace.
“Hell,” said Braines. “Goodbye, then.” He started walking toward the long-haired man in the hat and dress. Then he looked back and waved at all of them, though it was just for show. Tone and Mace didn’t wave, and Churn had gone back to the book.
Braines took the third man’s hand, and let himself be led out of the clearing, into the trees.
“Do you know me?” said Braines.
The third man lay Braines down in the piles of the others, then closed Braines’ eyes for him. The question was never answered.
The New Year
Early one morning, a long time ago, I was bathing in the Okeh River, near downtown Hernville, gently scrubbing the most neglected parts of my body with an old bandana I had recently acquired. And though I was alone, and the water was cold, I kept myself warm by remembering all the memories I had made the night before, when I was out on the town, ringing in the New Year in style. And when I had finished replaying all those memories, and each, in their own way, had brought me a small flicker of warmth, I found that I still had more of myself to cleanse, so I changed the direction of my thinking, from memories to more tangible items, and began listing all the things I was thankful for in my life:1. The recent return of my health.
2. The range of my mobility.
3. The fact that there was always someone listening to my prayers.
4. The fact that I had not been murdered at any time the past year.
5. My couch.
And once I had finished listing these things, I found that I still had a few more crevices that needed attention, so I continued scrubbing, working the bandana over myself as quickly but as industriously as I could, even as I felt my arms and legs losing feeling. And finally, realizing that I really was fighting a downhill battle, knowing that in order to save my precious life I would have to emerge from the water before I got myself to a level of cleanliness I could live with, I tried, in one last push, to distract myself again, and began formulating some resolutions for the New Year, hoping they might grant me that last bit of warmth I needed to finish, but before I could even begin to envision the year ahead, and all that I might accomplish in it, I heard a voice call down to me from way up on the bridge.
“Hey,” it said. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m just taking my bath for the day,” I said. “No big deal.”
“Didn’t look like bathing to me.”
“Oh, don’t pretend to know anything about my morning routine.”
“Looked like frolicking,” he said. “And my name is Moany.”
“Well,” I said, “if you were down here, you’d be able to see clearly,” and while I wholeheartedly agreed with what I was saying, I instantly regretted saying it; I didn’t really feel like engaging with Moany, or any one at all, for that matter, especially after having such a social time the night before.
“I still say you were frolicking,” Moany insisted, as he—a little recklessly, I thought—stepped sideways down the steep embankment to meet me. Once he reached the riverbank, I looked at him closely to make sure he was safe to associate with. Much to my relief, Moany was thin a
nd little. I would really like to pay him more tribute in my description of him, because of how nice a person he was, but he was quite ugly. His only possession, beyond his clothes, was a little jar full of clear liquid that he kept under his arm.
“What made you think I was frolicking?” I said.
“You were waving your hands around.”
“I was cleansing myself,” I said, suddenly feeling my muscles beginning to spasm. “It’s too cold to be frolicking.”
I then told him then that I would talk a lot more candidly if he would give me a moment to get out of the river and put on my outfit: my jeans and my jacket. Moany was silent, though he seemed to understand my needs, politely turning away as I emerged from the river. After I was dressed, I invited him to join me on my couch. When I’d first moved under the bridge, there was plenty of unoccupied space for the taking, but at the same time, there wasn’t any real cozy spot I could call my own—a place where I could sleep, eat, and get some thinking done, while not constantly having to readjust my position due to the sharp stones on the riverbank. So I really was overjoyed, and at the same time, very humbled, when, one day, on the bridge above me, a head-on collision occurred between a furniture truck and a truck carrying combustibles, and as a result of the tragic accident, a smoky but brand new leather couch tumbled down the embankment, end over end, until it came to rest, right side up, at my feet.
“Say you were frolicking,” said Moany. “What would you have been frolicking for?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I would have been frolicking at the fact that we have a new year upon us.”
“And why would that be cause for frolicking?” said Moany.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
He offered me a drink from his jar, which was full of tepid tap or perhaps river water. I drank one sip, and then told him that I would be fine for a while. I was particular about my drinking water.
“I had a pretty good time last night,” I said.
“I’m not sure I like sitting here,” Moany said. “You better hurry up and tell me about your New Year’s Eve.”
He really wasn’t the kindest of listeners, but it was rare that I had one at all, so I kept going. “I was downtown for the festivities,” I said. “Usually, I stay here under the bridge during holidays, because they tend to get me a little down, and I don’t like having to put on a public face when I’m having trouble wearing my private one. But last night, though I was feeling just about as down as ever, and though I tried to sleep it off, all the exploding fireworks kept snapping me awake, and I decided that if I was going to get through the night I needed to be around some kind—any kind—of life, so I went down to Big Square. I also decided that I wasn’t going to let my mood spoil anyone else’s that night: as I walked, I put on a smile, and held it there, and if ever I felt it slipping a little, I would do my best to raise it back up for the benefit of those around me. There were crowds of people there, in Big Square, all dressed in costumes and acting out of character in a fun way, and with my wide smile I think I fit right in. The strange thing was, at some point—right around the time a complete stranger gave me a paper bag with a party hat, a noise maker, and a warm bottle of beer inside—I realized that the public face I was wearing was equal to my private one, that the smile I was smiling was actually genuine, and that I was having a good time without even trying. And after that, I found that my legs were more limber than I was used to them being, and I started to dance, first just by myself, but then with everyone close by, until, gradually, a circle formed around me, and I saw that every public eye had fallen on me and every smile was directed toward me.” Moany’s face began to darken when I described the dancing—out of jealousy, I supposed. I started to think twice about continuing with my story. He was in pretty bad shape.
“Go on,” he said. “It’s fun for me to live through your fun.”
As long as he was willing to hear it, I really was more than happy to tell it. “Well, by the end of the night, I was up on people’s shoulders, and they were telling me that they were going to make me their king, and all sorts of other friendly promises that I never really expected that they would make good on. And then the hour grew really late, and I found that my only company left in Big Square was the garbage that people had left behind, and I came back to the bridge, still smiling wide even though I was alone.”
Moany didn’t make any real effort to hide his frown. “That does sound like a good time,” he said. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There was an old woman who used to lean over the bridge and show me her breast every day for a while, but I’m not sure if you would count that.”
“I wouldn’t count that,” said Moany.
I sensed a sad story coming on and shifted my hips a little lower into the couch to get more comfortable.
“While you were out dancing with the crowds,” Moany said,
“my girlfriend and I were roaming the streets, doing our dancing act for money.”
“I’ve always wanted to dance professionally,” I said. That I haven’t really is one of the major regrets of my life.
“It was just regular dancing,” he said bitterly. “I would lie on the concrete, my girlfriend would press play on the boombox, then she would climb on my back and sway. When I couldn’t take her weight anymore, I would tap her ankle and we would switch.”
“Moany,” I said, “I am not a dancing authority, but it seems like this dance was very simple.”
“We tried the more elaborate stuff before,” Moany said, “but no one donated. So we settled on the dance I just told you about. Ugliness is in, anyway. And we did well last night, until the boombox broke. After that, we started to head for home.”
“Where do you live?” I said. I wanted to make sure he still knew that I was interested in him and his story.
“My girlfriend and I live in Balltank, not far from here. We live under a bridge, pretty much the same as this one. Last night, my girlfriend and I were walking home after making a good amount of money, and we passed by a shop, where we saw the most magnificent dog in the window. I asked my girlfriend several times how much she thought the dog cost, but she assumed I wanted to buy the dog, and told me that we needed a new boombox before we went ahead and got a pet. But that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I just wanted to know the price of the damn dog, just to get an idea. She told me if I went into the shop, she was going to leave for the electronics store without me and start shopping for a new boombox. I didn’t believe her, and went in the shop, and I found the manager in the back. He had more dogs around him, but none were as good as the one in the window. I asked him how much the dog was, and he kind of sniffed at me and told me I couldn’t afford it. I told him I didn’t want to buy it, but that I wanted to know the damn price. He told me fourteen dollars. I was satisfied, for the moment. When I left the store, the streets were empty, and I found my girlfriend at the electronics store a couple blocks away. She was talking to a clerk and choosing between two boomboxes. She asked me for my opinion, but I didn’t want to give it. I was just thinking about the dog. I told her that even though the manager at the shop sniffed disdainfully at me at first, he quoted me a price of fourteen. She still thought I wanted the damn dog, even though I told her again that I didn’t. Then she held up two boomboxes and told me to pick, and I told her I’d rather get the money we made that night and take it back to the shop and just show the manager that we could afford the damn dog. She told me that if I went back to the shop with the money that she would leave me and I could find my own way home. Like a fool, I ripped the money out of her hands and ran back to the shop, which the manager had closed, and was locking up. I showed him the money and proved that my girlfriend and I could afford it, but he told me to put my money away because he’d just sold the damn dog to a loving owner, and when I asked him if he could see that I could have afforded the damn dog in the window, he told me that he didn’t give a damn. He made me really upset.”
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br /> “Some people really don’t want to get to Heaven,” I said, though I felt bad about casting judgment on a person who was only real to me as a character in Moany’s story.
“You’re right about that,” said Moany. “But it gets worse. When I got back to the electronics store, my girlfriend was gone, and so was the clerk, and by the time I made it back to the bridge in Balltank, they were already done making love, and were talking sweet to one another. I knew I had no say, and the whole thing was my fault, so I gave the money to my girlfriend and started walking. I made the Hernville city limits just as the sun was peeking up, and then I saw you frolicking as I was crossing the bridge.”
“What did the dog look like?” I said. “I was not frolicking.”
“The dog in the window was beautiful and proud,” he said. “I’d seen others that good in my life, but not for a long time.”
“Moany,” I said, “Tell me the truth. Did you really want to buy that dog in the window?”
“No.”
“It’s OK if you did. Sometimes I want things that I shouldn’t have, like a big brass bed, for example, instead of this couch. I think that’s pretty normal.”
“I didn’t,” Moany said, “and what made me leave my girlfriend was I realized that no matter what, no matter how long we stayed together or how many people we entertained over the years, I knew I’d never be able to convince her that I didn’t want that damn dog. Now, if someone would have given me the damn dog for free, I certainly would have cared for him, but I just couldn’t justify spending money on him, beautiful as he was. ”
“What do you do now?” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Moany. “I don’t know, and I don’t really care what happens.”
“You’re depressed, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“The doctors at the clinic will give you free trial packs of medicines,” I said.
“What clinic?”
“The one in Big Square.”
“I like medicines,” Moany said, “when I can get them.”
“Now, they don’t always tell you what the medicines do, so you have to be careful, but I’m sure they could give you a couple of trial packs to experiment with until you find the one you like.”
Something in My Eye: Stories Page 9