The Night Library

by T L Barrett

  He got down a deep saucer and mug and went out to the porch in the dying sunlight. The town stretched below him in a soft, painted red. Arthur took the ashtray off the table there and put the cancer down delicately. He put down the saucer and mug and poured the beers into them, one for him and one for his little friend.

  Just as Arthur was sitting down himself, the sirens began to wail. The first was an ambulance, coming from the northwest of Bearfield.

  “Someone got hurt, Big C,” Arthur said, uncapping his beer, “I sure hope it’s not too serious.” He looked south and could see the smoke pouring up from the affluent neighborhood of Garey Street. The fire house siren rose up to meet that of the ambulance.

  Arthur and the cancer were half way done their beers when a young man from Arthur’s class came tottering down the sidewalk. He walked irregularly, as if drunk. As he came closer his eyes shone flat and stupid above the flaps of skin hanging from his face. The rancorous wounds let out a little beard of questing tendrils of gray gelatinous substance. Arthur raised his beer can in salute. The boy turned, gave him a vacant stare and tottered on down the street.

  The cancer undulated. Arthur’s eyes moved down the hill to the edge of Pearson Park, where he could see two of the boy’s classmates jerking their way toward Mr. Chase, the local mailman. Mr. Chase froze with disbelief and wonder as the two half-naked and grotesque young folks came closer. He let out one high scream when they fell on him.

  Arthur began to laugh. He guffawed and snorted until his side hurt. Beside him the Cancer jiggled in hilarity.

  “Now that’s what I call community service!” Arthur hooted. He laughed again, this time silently, until tears rolled down his cheeks. Arthur and his cancer continued to watch the spectacle for some time, drinking their beers. Even when the daylight failed they remained, enjoying the screams of horror, the wails of sirens and lights in houses as they abruptly fell into darkness. He laughed and commented all through the evening with his little itching friend. He did not smoke, however. He figured, as with public education, it was high time he quit.

  Texas Thunder

  Music from the speakers at the Barton, Texas Annual Donut festival thundered in Zoe Durand’s ears. Her body trembled from the hours on the road and too much caffeine and nicotine. Her lithe body perspired from the oppressive late day heat. Her mind whirled with the screaming passengers on the gaudy carnival rides. Her heart yearned in a way she never thought it would.

  Her lips, all goth-girl black, mouthed his name: Aubrey Gale. She turned her head. Impossibly, the pre-vet she had met at a party at her friend’s college stepped out of her mind’s eye and into the festival before her. With his wavy ginger hair, soft green eyes and long jean-clad legs he walked like a prince through the crowd of pot-bellied rubes and dirty-faced children. The buttons on his plaid cowboy shirt glinted in the sun. He wore a gentle amused smile as he scanned the crowds of festival goers. His eyes found her. His smile widened.

  “Oh, my God,” Zoe whispered and dropped her cigarette. Zoe fussed with her dyed-black bangs. Aubrey’s eyes widened in hopeful humor as he approached.

  “Hi!” he said. Zoe fussed with her dyed-black bangs.

  “Oh, my God,” she said in the down-home accent she had tried so hard to abandon. She grimaced. “You’re here.”

  “Yeah, I mean… I hope that’s okay. I remembered you mentioned you would be here. You said I should come down.” His eyes crinkled in the apprehension of embarrassment. She attempted a nervous smile to put that handsome face at ease.

  “I just can‘t believe you actually remembered,” she said.

  “Well, you left in the morning before I could get your phone number.”

  “I know. I just…” Zoe scanned the crowd: no sign of John, yet. “My life is really complicated. You were just so sweet. I didn’t want to…”

  “Oh, you have a boyfriend. Jeez, I’m sorry.” Aubrey’s face dropped. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun… how I felt… I‘ll just go.” He turned to leave.

  “No!” Zoie said and grabbed Aubrey’s left hand. “I’m glad you came. I… actually couldn’t stop thinking about it, too. Here…” She dragged him out of the turgid river of donut eaters. “I had a really good, an amazing, time with you.” She kept his hand. His long fingers around hers felt very right. Aubrey grinned the grin she had seen every time she closed her eyes this past week.

  “Well, do you want to show me around?” Zoe took the opportunity to scan the crowd again.

  “There’s not much to see, actually. I mean, it’s a donut festival.” She flapped her hands at the people that slumped by in the heat.

  “Well, I like donuts; and really this sort of reminds me a lot of home, other than it is very hot, and home doesn’t have anyone like you.” Zoe grinned back at him, now, and this felt very good, just standing here grinning. She really didn’t want time to move forward. This could do, it really could.

  “I like your lipstick,” he said. “It brings out a whole other part of you, a part that I didn’t know about.” There’s a lot you don’t know about me, she thought.

  “You drove hundreds of miles,” she said. It sounded like an accusation, but she hadn’t meant it to.

  “I guess I did,” he said. She leaned in, put her hands on his chest and stretched up. She hadn’t realized he was so tall. Their lips met, and it was as good as she remembered. Still on her tip toes, their faces just apart, they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “So, are you going to show me which donut is the best?” he said. It sounded silly, and kind of dirty, too, in an innocent way. They giggled. She looked away in a blush.

  That’s when she saw John as he came through the crowd, his usually entourage in tow, like bullies through the schoolyard. John “Mac” Mactaggert, walked with his thumbs in his pockets, his legs partially bowed out, an affect that was part satirical, he being from Boston, originally. Forty-four years old, John had a compact hard body, and rugged features. His blue eyes were shadowed by a deep brow and a cowboy hat. It was the cowboy hat that really took Zoe aback. She had never seen him wear one. At one time she would have laughed herself silly to see him in such a thing. He would know that she would, as he had known so much about how Zoe would react to the world. He would come in close with that sharky grin and kiss her hard, startlingly so, which never failed to awaken something weak and strong, natural and unnatural in Zoe’s blood.

  Zoe took a big step away from Aubrey just before John’s eyes fell upon them. That didn’t mean that John hadn’t spied them before. That was something about John, something that had once attracted Zoe to him so wildly: with John, you never could tell.

  After stepping away she wished she hadn’t. She felt like someone who had just been caught by her father as she kissed a boy. John was old enough to be her father. He was forever reminding her of that, perhaps too often. She often wondered if the thought didn’t excite him at times. No, she knew it did. It was one of the reasons why a slow cold steady hate for him grew inside her. She could see John reading the embarrassment, the hate, the confusion in her. She hated him all the more for it.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to Aubrey and walked over to John. She couldn’t figure out if she should walk quickly or slowly. Both spoke of fear.

  “Hello, Princess,” John said.

  “Hello, John. Hello, Pucci,” she said to the chubby Italian in the Yankees cap beside John. She did not say hello to Gaynor, the one that looked like a fed on PCP trying to dress up as a tourist. She never said hello to Gaynor. He was a monster. Heck, they were all murderous monsters when it came right down to it, but Gaynor did so for money and more.

  “Who’s the kid?” John asked. Zoe could tell that something bothered him. She hoped it wasn’t her.

  “He’s…a friend,” she said.

  “I see how it is,” John said. Gaynor turned his eyes over to regard Aubrey coolly. Don’t you even look at him! Zoe wanted to scream at the hit
man.

  “He’s just a friend, John,” Zoe insisted.

  “He’s all stretched out. I didn’t think you went for the tall ones,” John said. His gaze shifted back to her. She met his gaze in challenge.

  “I need you to run an errand to the Dominicans. You can go to Disneyworld, while you’re there. You remember Disneyworld?” He grinned. She remembered the way they had made a public spectacle out of themselves there the year before.

  “I don’t like the Dominicans,” Zoe said. “I thought Saul liked them.”

  “Saul doesn’t like anything these days,” Gaynor said. John sighed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was this that had John all worked up, Zoe thought. The relief made her confident, perhaps too much so.

  “I wanted to talk to you about that. I don’t want to run any more errands. I’ve come here to tell you, I’m through with all that.” Had she? It had been on her mind for many months, but now it spilled out. It was too late. A cool rush ran down her spine.

  John’s face set.

  “You’re through with all that? We’re going to have a talk, you and I,” John said.

  “I don’t want to talk right now,” Zoe said. John reached forward and grasped her wrist in an iron grip.

  “You don’t want to make a fuss in front of your new boyfriend, do you?” he said quietly. Zoe flicked her eyes up at Pucci. The Italian’s eyes looked sad and a little worried. She liked Pucci, who loved classical music. He had been like an uncle this past crazy year. He looked away. Pucci would never openly challenge John. They had too much history. They had shared the same cell in prison for a number of years. Zoe guessed they had shared much more as well, but she would never mention her surmise.

  “Let go of my arm, John. I will just tell him that we are going to talk. What do you want me to tell him? Are you my uncle this time?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you tell him,” John said and let go of her arm.

  Zoe composed herself as best she could and walked back to Aubrey, her head down, thoughtful.

  “Is everything all right?” Aubrey asked. Zoe felt too ashamed to meet his eyes.

  “Yes. I just have to go and talk to someone right now. This guy’s girlfriend has run off. I know her. He just wants to find out where she’s gone.” She looked him in the eyes. She had always been good at that. She never wanted to be good at doing it to this beautiful young man. It made her sick that she was.

  “You don’t have to go off with him. We can just say that I have to be somewhere soon…” She saw an honest strength in his soft green eyes. In another life, it would have made her feel safe. Her father had never given her such a look.

  “Maybe, you shouldn’t have come. I’m a lousy person, really. I think you’re an amazing person and all, it’s just…”

  “Are you going to introduce us to your new friend, Zoe?” John said from behind her. Zoe turned and could see the three drug runners smiling broadly at Aubrey. “My name is John, and you are…?” John offered his hand. Aubrey shook it. The concerned arch to his eyebrows never left his face.

  “I’m Aubrey, Aubrey Gale.”

  “This is Pucci, and Gaynor. Welcome to Barton. Have you had your fill of donuts, yet?”

  “No, I just got here.”

  “Great, Pucci here is a connoisseur of all things edible. He’s a regular foodie, aren’t you Pucc?” He slapped Pucci’s gut with the back of his hand. Pucci smiled shyly and nodded. “Why don’t you let Pucci here give you the sights? I’m going to borrow your girlfriend for a moment, and we’ll catch up to you.” John put a hand on Zoe’s back, and she resisted the urge to shrug it off.

  Zoe’s eyes moved from Pucci, to Gaynor and then back to Pucci. Pucci gave her a solemn nod. It would have to be enough.

  As John led her away from them, she could hear Pucci starting to ask Aubrey questions about his school and major. Pucci was a connoisseur of small talk, as well. Gaynor, bored, watched girls in halter tops eat cotton candy. Aubrey watched Zoe disappear into the crowd.

  John led her into the baked field where rows and rows of cars glared in the Texas sun. Zoe felt like she was not completely in her body. Distantly she noticed black thunderheads massing on the horizon.

  “Get in,” John said when they came to a non-descript luxury sedan with tinted windows.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “No, but we are going to talk, and not in this heat,” he said. Zoe sighed and got in the passenger side. Once behind the wheel, John turned on the car and the AC blew goose bumps up her bare arms.

  “Listen, princess, I know that I haven’t been very attentive lately. A lot of shit fell on me, and I didn’t want to get you involved; but I think most of that has blown over. I was thinking after you get back from Florida, we can take off together somewhere. How does Denver sound? We could kick back for a few weeks and get real Rocky Mountain high.”

  “I told you, I’m not running errands to the Dominicans. I’m not running errands, period.

  “You need to cut that shit out, okay? This will not stand. I know you’ve been fucking that prep boy back there. I understand. I get it. We’re even.”

  “I haven’t fucked him,” Zoe said.

  “You haven’t? Well, no wonder you’re in such a bad mood. Doctor Mac has just the right medicine for you, princess.” He put his hand on her thigh. She took it off.

  “Don’t touch me. We’re done, all right? I don’t want this, anymore.” His hand shot up and grasped her left breast. He gave it a painful squeeze. He often claimed her breasts were just the right size, perfect handfuls.

  “Don’t be a dumb bitch! You don’t just walk away from me,” he said. Zoe cried out from the pain, and slapped at his arms. He took his hand away and then swung it upward in a fist. Pain hit her in the face as her teeth cut into her lips.

  She moaned and held her face.

  “You dumb fucking whore, I warned you about acting this way back in Boston. You don’t just get out. You are in, in, you hear me!” He lowered his voice and turned on the radio. Pucci’s classical music blared out of the speakers. “You have a job to do, and you are going to do it.”

  “Fuck you!” Zoe said wiping the blood from her black lips. “I said I was done.”

  “You’re done, all right!” he said. He reached up and circled his hands around her throat. She gasped once, and then the pressure on her thorax was unimaginable. She managed to get one good smack across the side of his face, before he was on top of her. He pinned her arms with his legs. His fingers locked themselves over her thin neck and the pressure made the world inflate. Black butterflies danced over a field of blood.

  I’m going to fucking die. I’m dying, she thought. Black tears coursed over her cheeks.

  “This is what happens to little fucking whores who think they can ruin everyone else’s day, because they get a mind to!” he hissed at her as her vision cut out.

  ***

  Aubrey knew these were bad men. He had grown up around horses and knew there were three different kinds of people: horse shy people, horse whisperers, and horse beaters. These three were horse beaters, especially the guy with the crew cut and Hawaiian shirt that kept eyeing the adolescent girls that passed them at the festival. As the Italian droned on and bought Aubrey strangely colored donuts, a voice in Aubrey’s head was telling him to get the hell out of there.

  It was his mother’s voice. Aubrey understood that Zoie had gotten herself wrapped up in some pretty bad stuff. He sensed a darkness around her the night they had talked and then later, made love. It was difficult to pay attention to the Italian’s monologues with the voice of his mother pleading with him to get in his car and drive north, now.

  You can’t just leave the girl here with these thugs, another voice said. This one was his father’s. Aubrey set his jaw and managed to swallow a sugary lump of cream. His stomach gurgled in response. He wouldn’t leave the girl, he decided. He wouldn’t be able to look his father in the eyes, if he had. Heck, he wouldn’t be able to look
himself in the mirror, even. But what was he going to do?

  Keep your head, his father’s voice said. Easier said than done. He ran his hands down his pockets as if wiping the sugar off. He didn’t even have a weapon, not even a pen. He felt the slim bulge of his cell phone.

  “Excuse me a moment, fellas,” Aubrey said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I just have to make a quick call. Someone’s expecting me to-”

  Gaynor reached over and snatched the phone from his hand.

  “Hey, thanks man, I just need to make a quick call.” Gaynor opened Aubrey’s cell phone and punched in some numbers. He gave Aubrey a wink, cocked his head, and took a few steps away.

  “Mac says we should go to the car,” Gaynor said when he returned and snapped the cell phone shut. “You’re girlfriend asked for you. I guess the heat got to her or something. Mac has her in the AC.”