On The Run

by J. M. Parker

  Alina laughed again and Bannon took another sip of his drink, trying to think of another story, when he saw Chai Son’s face fall. A muffled sound crept from a side door and the Thai man rose, disappearing off into the kitchen and returning with a small orange prescription bottle. He walked quickly through the living room and on to the door, swinging it open and revealing a small bedroom where his wife whimpered on the bed. Her hands were tucked into her abdomen and her whole body was folded around them. A broken plate lay beside the bed and china broke beneath Chai Son’s feet as he rushed over to his wife.

  He placed his thumb on her lips, gently pried them open, and put two small capsules into her mouth. He raised a glass of water to her lips, his hand trembling and sending water spilling out across its edges. His wife’s whimpering softened as she gulped the water, and Chai Son eased her back into the pillows. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead before he walked over to the door and quickly closed it shut.

  Bannon turned away, spotting the boys as he did, their eyes fixed on the bedroom door, the color drained from their faces. A faint whimpering still emanated from behind the door and they all sat listening until Alina broke the silence. “How about we get these boys outside?”

  The two of them gathered up the plates and Alina guided the boys from the house. Bannon wrote a little note, trying as best as he could to explain the situation with simple English and a little bit of Thai.

  They walked slowly to the edge of the lake, the boys following behind, their hands stuffed into their pockets and their heads hanging. At its edge they watched as Alina slipped into the water, nervously inching closer as she beckoned for them to follow. They stooped at the edge of the lake, the water just barely brushing their toes, their arms folded around their skinny chests.

  Bannon looked from them to the girl and he saw Alina’s smile begin to fade as the boys started to creep back from the edge of the lake. Bannon sighed. “Fuck it,” he said, slipping his wallet from his pocket and sprinting to the lake, giggles and screams bursting from the boys as he scooped them up and ran out into the water.

  “Your clothes, you maniac,” said Alina, as Bannon lost his footing and went tumbling into the lake.

  They all emerged from the water laughing, the two boys coughing and spluttering before they threw themselves at Bannon. He caught the first one and hoisted him into the air, the boy turning in a half somersault before he splashed into the water. The second boy cackled furiously as Bannon gathered him up and sat him on his shoulders, wading out to Alina. She grabbed the other boy and copied him, her and Bannon standing almost nose to nose, lips to lips, as the two boys fought above them.

  They played for almost an hour, Bannon leaving the lake with his soaking clothes wrapped around him.

  “Look at you,” said Alina.

  Bannon looked at the boys as they darted happily back to the house. “Worth it,” he said, full of sudden pride as Alina leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  *

  They sat over breakfast, Chai Son looking gratefully at Alina and Bannon. When they finished Bannon rose. “Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”

  “You go?” said one of the boys, startling Bannon with his English and drawing a big smile from Alina.

  “Probably better be,” said Bannon, thinking about the little portions of breakfast and wondering how much food the Thai man had to offer. “You done—“

  “No, no, no,” said Chai Son, “one more thing, one more thing,” and he held up a finger and wagged it in their direction, “you must see.”

  Bannon looked over to Alina, her skepticism seeming to weaken before the imploring looks of the boys. “I am in no hurry,” she said.

  “Alright,” said Bannon. “Let’s have a look.”

  *

  The smell of fish filled the air as another crate slapped onto the pile.

  “What is this?” said Bannon, gazing out across the crowd, where a massive huddle of men drank bottles of beer and looked eagerly at the crates.

  Chai Son returned with a handful of numbered pebbles, and he forced one to Bannon and one to Alina. Alina looked from the pebbles to the crates, watching as a member of the staff popped the first lid to reveal a pile of freshly caught fish. “I think it’s a fish raffle,” she said, the crowd hushing as a small, white-suited Thai clambered onto the bar. His eyes were concealed behind a pair of red-tinted sunglasses, a wiry moustache sat above his lip. He raised a small cloth bag and dipped a hand inside it.

  Chai Son looked at his pebble as the auctioneer called out a number; somewhere else in the crowd a cheer went up and another man rushed over toward the crate.

  The auctioneer paused, seeming to enjoy the suspense before he dipped into the bag once more, calling a number and sparking another cry of success from the crowd.

  Chai Son turned from his pebble and pulled a beer from the pocket of his coat. “For nerves,” he said.

  “Think I’ll grab myself one,” said Bannon, looking at Alina, who grinned in his direction.

  “Better make it two,” she said. “You know? For the nerves.”

  Six more times the auctioneer dipped into the bag and six more times they were unsuccessful. They stood and watched as various men and women exited the bar, their arms wrapped around enormous bags of fish, the smell growing stronger as little puddles of scales began to form around the crates.

  The crack of another lid popping open turned their heads back to the fish, and the voice of the auctioneer rang out again. Chai Son looked at his pebble, his face falling with the same disappointment as the eight times before. They all stood waiting for another cheer but no one seemed to celebrate. Chai Son looked from Bannon’s pebble to Alina’s, his eyes widening as he spotted the winning stone. He thrust Alina’s hand in the air, cheering loudly as heads turned in their direction. “It’s you, it’s you,” he said, pushing Alina on through the crowd, the men parting as they spotted the beauty among them. Alina kept going toward the prize, looking back at the stunned faces around her. At the table she gathered up the bag, turning back to face the crowd, a smile breaking across her face as she hoisted the bag above her head and the place erupted with noise.

  From the auction they headed back to the house. The boys were in the living room, bathing their mother’s joints in a bowl of ointment. Chai Son tossed the bag of fish into the room and it landed with a splat on the carpet. He nudged Alina into the center of the room. “She win, she win,” said Chai Son, the boys rising immediately and rushing to embrace Alina.

  “We win,” said Alina, handing the fish back to the Thai and sending him into a deep, thankful bow.

  “No,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Alina, and Bannon smiled as he watched Chai Son wrap his arms around her.

  *

  They stayed for the rest of the day, Chai Son insisting they remain for dinner. In the evening they sat beside the lake, Chai Son tending to a fire, fish cooking in a pan above it. Beside them his wife sat in a wonky-looking wheelchair. She drifted in and out of sleep as the heat of the fire washed across her, the boys playing in the lake, slapping the gutted skeletons of the fish across each other’s chests and leaving red prints on their skin.

  A case of beer cooled in the lake beside them and Chai Son called for another, the older boy dropping into the water to wash and then scrambling up the beach with three dripping beers cradled in his arms.

  He passed them out to the group and they smiled, watching as he hurtled back along the sand, hopped across a couple of moored boats, and cannonballed out into the river, his brother clapping loudly as he did.

  The fish came off the grill about ten minutes later, the body stuffed with sliced lemon. Chai Son called to the boys, but they kept on playing. He shrugged. “Eat when hungry.” And he began passing out the food, serving Alina first before he placed a plate softly on the lap of his wife.

  Bannon watched as the hunched lady reached for her knife and let her bandaged wrists fall toward the fish. She stabbed a knife in
to the meat and her wrist seemed to buckle immediately. The woman let out a horrible piercing scream as she folded around her hand.

  Chai Son spun from the fire, dipping his hands into his pockets before he searched the pile of bags. He stood up, his hands still empty as the woman reached desperately for him. “Not here,” said Chai Son.

  “What’s not?” said Alina. “The pain meds?”

  “Not here,” said the man, watching as tears welled in his wife’s eyes, rushing to her side as she began to sob and pressing his lips against her hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  “Shit, what are we gonna do?” said Bannon.

  “How far to the house?” said Alina.

  “Too far,” said Bannon, turning to see the boys standing in the shallows of the lake and looking back at the scene. “Fuck,” he said. “Go distract them.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Quickly.”

  “Okay.”

  Bannon reached into a pocket, pulling out a joint and stepping over to the woman. Chai Son looked at the joint and tried to hold Bannon back.

  “It’ll help,” said Bannon, shoving him to the side and sending him tumbling down in front of the fire.

  “Please, no,” said Chai Son.

  “It’s alright,” said Bannon.

  He heard the boys shout out from the lake and turned to see Alina dragging them back into the water. Quickly, he bent down over the woman, forcing the joint between her lips and clamping her mouth shut. “I need you to breathe,” said Bannon, raising the lighter to the joint and holding it over the end. The embers flared sporadically with her weak breath. “Breathe,” said Bannon, watching as the woman’s eyes shut and she took a deeper breath. Bannon felt her muscles relax a little. “Again,” he said. She took another breath and Bannon let the joint fall from her mouth. He reached down and grabbed a cold can of beer, pressing it gently against her wrist, the lady still shaking but the pain receding a little from her face.

  On the ground, Chai Son watched as his wife leaned back into her chair. He rolled over to the fallen joint, picking it up and studying it in amazement. “What?”

  Bannon dropped down beside the wheelchair, sweat rushing down his face as he listened to the woman’s breathing soften behind him. He shrugged. “It’s some good weed, brother.”

  *

  Bannon lay with his back against the sofa, the two boys sleeping soundly on top of their bedding. Above him Chai Son sat beside his wife, an arm wrapped around her, a look of disbelief still on his face as she dozed against him. Bannon smiled as he twisted in their direction and Chai Son reciprocated warmly. “Gonna step outside for a moment,” he said, rising and moving out into the evening.

  He stood outside smoking, leaning back against the house as the sun dipped behind the horizon. The door clicked open and Alina came out to join him. Bannon took another hit and handed over the joint. “You were sort of a hero today,” said Alina.

  “If you say so,” said Bannon, watching as she breathed deeply from the joint.

  “Yes,” said Alina, blowing smoke out into the night, “with the kids yesterday as well.”

  He felt Alina lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder. “You know I always did like the water.”

  “I know.”

  “My old man, too, right to the end.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Bannon reached for the joint, Alina’s head moving with his shoulder as he leaned in toward it. He took another drag. “Died about five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You remember what you said on the boat, about trying to numb the pain of something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the diving used to help with that. Now that I’m not, I miss him more than I used to. When I was diving I felt like I was doing something for the both of us, made it easier to cope.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Bannon, her head slipping from his shoulder as he turned back to the house.

  “Wait,” said Alina, grabbing his arm. “Why did you stop?”

  “I fucked it up.”

  “How?” said Alina, her grip tightening slightly on his arm as Bannon took a half step backward. “You can tell me.”

  “Doubt you’ll think I’m such a hero when you hear.”

  Alina ran her hand along his arm and smiled at him. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the last few days.”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright,” said Bannon, taking one last drag on the joint, “just let me figure out where to start.”

  10

  Bannon groaned as he flopped from his bunk. Alina’s bed was already empty and he looked nervously about the room. He’d told her everything last night, everything from his father’s illness to leaving the diver and falling in with the Frenchman.

  When he’d finished she just smiled. Told him it was alright. She’d stood smoking in the moonlight and talked about the worst days of her addiction, how every sober moment had seemed riddled with angst and despair. She talked of her need to find a fix, the yearning to blot out all the worry, “to just be oblivious.” she pressed a hand to his cheek and stared toward him. She told him that she knew that he was sorry, knew that he was hurting too. She leaned a little closer and Bannon felt his throat lump. “We can always get better,” she said. “You just have to find the right way…”

  Bannon heard laughter outside the house and he stepped into the living room, listening as Chai Son and the boys set the boat back against the house. A moment later the door opened and the group entered, Chai Son carrying a long fishing rod and both boys cradling small buckets of fish. He beamed at Bannon as he spotted him. “You change my luck,” he said, pointing the rod at a bucket where piles of little fish lay dying.

  “Hope so,” said Bannon. “Alina come with you?”

  “What?” said Chai Son, stowing the fishing rod behind the nearest couch.

  “Where’s the girl?”

  “Oh, she go early.”

  “Where to?”

  “No say, but she be back.”

  “Alright,” said Bannon, watching as the boys hurried off into the kitchen. “Need my help with anything?”

  “You rest.”

  “I’ll be alright,” said Bannon, about to continue, but the old man cut him off. “Rest,” he said, pointing a bony hand at the couch.

  Bannon dropped onto the sofa and Chai Son smiled before he disappeared into his room. Bannon leaned back into the cushions, his eyes closing almost immediately, and he drifted into a dream: Standing on the shoulder of a road as every car he ever worked on motored slowly by. He watched as their headlights shone across the asphalt, their polished shells sparkling in the moonlight. He heard something rumble overhead and he saw a windshield crack. A hearse turned around the corner and he looked toward it, watching as the black paint cracked along its sides, watching as the alloy rusted and smoke billowed out from under the hood. He heard another windshield crack and something bounced against the road. The deafening roar of an engine sounded above him and he turned his gaze to the sky. A fiery fissure tore across the night as a hail of nuts and bolts descended down onto the scene. He saw glass shatter and headlights break. He saw tires burst and cars crumple as metal continued to fall from the sky and the moon vanished behind the deluge…

  It took him a moment to realize where he was; his clothes were damp with sweat and he felt them sticking to the fabric of the couch. Alina stood above him and he squinted at her. “How long have I been asleep?”

  Alina shrugged and lowered herself onto the arm of the couch. “We should probably head out today.”

  He hoisted himself into a seated position, remembering last night’s conversation and regretting how much he’d told her. “You’re still coming?”

  “When is your meet?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Then we have two weeks. You are
happy I am coming?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  Alina smiled before she lifted a hand to his face. “You look pale,” she said. “You are sure you are okay?”

  “I’m okay. Just shaking off a dream.”

  “Alright,” said Alina, “but don’t take too long. I think I’ll help you sell some pot today. Help you make some real money before I go.”

  *

  They sped along in the back of a pickup, their legs stretched out in front of them as dust swept over the cab and careened off above their heads. Before they left Bannon had bagged up a quarter of the weed and handed it across to Chai Son. “For emergencies,” he’d said, sending the man into a thankful bow.

  He looked across at Alina. “We better sell the rest of the weed at a premium.”

  Alina smiled, “It’s good you’re getting out, you are far too nice for this business.”

  Bannon paused, watching as she tilted her head back into the sun. “You know,” he said, “I hate to bring it all back up, but I want you to know, I’m not proud of a lot of that stuff, the running especially, and I’d sure like to know how that girl is doing.”

  “I know.”

  “I just wanted to be sure you did.”

  “I do.”

  “You know, before he passed my father told me a lot of things. All the things he regretted doing, all the places he wished he’d been. He told me not to make those same mistakes,” said Bannon, slapping a hand against the side of the truck. “Five years we worked together, trying to rustle up enough money to cover the bills. It was like we never had money that was truly ours, we were just holding it for the next debt to be paid. When he got too sick to work, they took the garage anyway. You ever see something like that?”

  Alina didn’t answer.

  “Five years,” said Bannon. “Standing in the winter cold of an empty garage or working over hot engines in the middle of July. We were supposed to sell it one day, was going to be a retirement for him, a future for me. He made that place work with nothing but time and effort. I’d say watching it get taken from him was about the cruelest thing I ever saw.”