Swing State

by Michael T. Fournier

  Schaferville. Passed the sign. Incorporated 1726. Oldest town around. Up there on the river. That and Wilburton. Armbrister used to be part of Wilburton. Remembered that from school. Thaddeus Armbrister. Good American. Said no. All our kids being sent to war. None of yours. We’re the poor part of town. Your kids can afford not to go. Not right. Split off. Hadn’t thought much about it. Story from school. But it was true. In their platoon there was one guy who went to college. Fuckin’ hated it, he said. Filling your head with bullshit. His name was—what? Hard to remember. One semester of community college and his name was College Boy. They thought that was funny. Biggest guy in the platoon. Could’ve played football. Didn’t. Bad knees, he said. Carried the radio. Sweated like a pig. McSorley always gave him shit. So did they. Pretty funny. Hey, College Boy, Peck would say. What did your college books say about carrying a radio? Fuck you, College Boy would always say, sweating. Maybe you should have stayed in college. That way, you wouldn’t have to carry a fuckin’ radio all over the desert! Ever think of that? Every goddamn day. And they’d laugh at him, but not like mean. Like ha. They were all in the same boat. All in the shit. Sucked for everyone.

  College Boy collapsed. Heatstroke. Got redeployed. Someone went to see him. Donaldson? Said he asked College Boy what he’d do when he got home. Oh, you know, he said. The usual. Maybe read books about bullshit. Work a job where I use my hands.

  Walked through downtown Schaferville. Bookstore, coffee shop. Trophy place. Sandwiches. Some new stuff. Flowers. Beer store. Not like drinking it but making it. He wondered how to do that. How hard it would be. Make beer. Probably expensive. Big jar. Buckets. Reminded him of chemistry class. Never got that. Why he had to do that stuff. Never used it. Didn’t care. Maybe chemistry made it easier to make beer. He’d ask Artie.

  He kept walking. Stores with nothing inside. Tried to remember what had been in them. Couldn’t. Just remembered them full. Not when he left. Before that.

  Left downtown. Bigger common than Armbrister. Probably good to walk around. Tried to imagine living there. Quiet. Walk common laps. Probably expensive. Maybe not when he got hired. Find a small place. Thought he remembered a bar. Go after work. Play some pool. Drink some beer. Watch the Sox. Wouldn’t have to walk so far. Or worry about the bus. Moving, though. He didn’t have much. But enough. Dresser. Futon. Couldn’t fit that in a car. Not even on top. Maybe rent a truck. Have enough money. U-Haul. Or Artie would help. Friends from the garage. They could do an afternoon. Easy. Pizzas afterward. Beer. Perfect. Sit in the new place. Hopefully the porch. Sit out there. Sweaty, like College Boy. The first beer would be the best.

  Saw a bar. Looked nice. Too nice. Like drinks instead of beers. And not Venerable. The kind from that beer store. People would drink it and talk about how it tasted. Never understood that. Beer is beer. And those places never had pool tables. He’d have to find someplace else to play. Maybe the whole town didn’t have a table. He’d have to go back to Patterson’s.

  Fun to think about. Probably too expensive. Cheaper to have a car. Drive every day. Wouldn’t be bad. One tank a month. Listen to news. No music. Back and forth. Keep playing pool. For fun. Maybe beer money. Cashing checks at the bank. Hadn’t seen his check yet. Probably some holiday. That happened. Columbus Day, Presidents’ Day. Pushed back the pay. Veterans Day. He would do that one. Find a parade. Get dressed up. Talk about it. Go to some bar. Get beers. Venerable.

  City part ended. Trees. Rows of houses. Never looked at them before. Maybe nicer than his. But not by much. But these had siding. Not shingles. Warm in the winter. Wouldn’t be hot during the summer. Find a vet landlord. Tell him just getting back on my feet. You understand. And he would. No need for a deposit, soldier. Your word is good with me. Worry less.

  Then it was more stores. Empty. Not like downtown. Standalones. Garages, gas stations. Plywood over windows. Graffiti. WESTSIDE KINGS. DEAD TREND. MIZST LIVES. Didn’t understand. People always needed gas. How could they not? Always had cars. Had to be bad.

  Trash on the sidewalk. Then it ended. Then nothing. He turned around. Downtown still visible. After work. Walking through this part. He could handle it. Knew fighting. Killed sand niggers. Wasn’t scared much. But it looked rough. Maybe he’d pack. A knife. Brass knuckles. Didn’t have a pistol. Just the old rifle.

  Mrs. Johnson. He went back to the house. Thought one of the great-aunts would be there. Sold. Didn’t even go in. Could tell. The cars. Hybrids. She came out of her house. On the porch. Why, Royal, she said. Is that you? Yes, Missus Johnson, he said. Oh, you must be back from overseas! I just got back, he said. Didn’t mention the hospital. That counted as back. I am very sorry about Blake, she said. She was a kind soul. Yes ma’am, he said. I have something for you inside, she said. Wait here. She came back out with the rifle in its camo bag. Glenda and Joan did not know what to do with this, she said. They did not want to sell it, but did not want to keep it. I told them I’d hold it for you. Thank you, ma’am, he said. I hope you are well, Royal, she said. Do let me know if there is anything I can do for you. He felt like saying well I’m having a hard time. I have no place to stay and my one friend is married. So if I could stay here while I get it together that’d be great. But he couldn’t do that. She would say yes. He knew. Always nice to him. Offered him cookies until he was sixteen. Probably because he always took them. Husband died young. Construction accident. Never remarried. Did a lot of church stuff. Her, Auntie Blake, Tillie Tompkins. She was nice. But she wouldn’t be. She’d feel mad. Taking up space. Eating food. Coming in late. Never say anything. But hate it. Like Auntie Blake hated it. Him. No stake but a rifle. Thank you, Missus Johnson, he said, taking the bag from her. I’ll do that. And never went back.

  Sidewalk trash everywhere until the garage. He didn’t remember this. Thought it was better. Beaters outside. Big. American. Wondered if that was all they did. One of those places. American repairs. Thought he could do that. Jeeps. Sounded good. Easy to get parts. Fords.

  Electric buzzer when he walked in. Little bell tinkled in the doorway. He’d get used to both. Wouldn’t hear them after a while. But would with his body. Like shots. His body knew. Found himself in the sand without thinking. Tinkle meant be nice. Someone coming in. Train himself like that. Wouldn’t even have to try. Just happen over time. Hello, can I help you? Yes, your car is ready. I replaced the timing belt.

  Woman came to the desk. Smelled like butts. Older. Tough broad. Help you? she said.

  I’m looking for Artie, he said. Maybe she owned the place. Probably. Why else would a woman be in a garage? He stood straighter. Tired because of the walk. His leg. Should’ve thought of that before he came in. Didn’t. Stupid.

  He doesn’t work Mondays, hon. Tuesday through Saturday. Need help with something?

  He liked being called hon. Reminded him of diners. Wished Patterson lady called him hon when he played pool. Just told him how many beers he could drink.

  No, I’m one of Artie’s buddies.

  What’s your name?

  Roy, he said.

  Roy—?

  Eggleton.

  Well, Roy Eggleton, I’ll tell him you were asking after him. Try back tomorrow or some other time this week.

  He nodded.

  Not working. All that way. For nothing. Pretty fucking stupid not to call first.

  14.

  I DITCHED AFTER NINTH PERIOD TO get a bike and see Gary.

  He’s older than Don. That didn’t stop him from staring at my tits.

  He seemed surprised when I told him I already applied. He went what did you say your name was again? Then I told him and he said oh, okay, I didn’t realize.

  He took out a huge stack of applications and looked through. When he found mine he said nice resume and I said thanks. Then he said when can you start, Dixon Dove? I said whenever you want. He asked what my availability was and I said after school and weekends. He said he’d give me a call if there were any openings.

  * * *

  Mr. Merrill gave me
a bunch of shit for not doing the reading. Whatever. It’s like, who the fuck cares what a bunch of made-up people in a story do, anyway? It’s not like Burger Hut will call back because of that stuff.

  But Don was sitting on his fat ass today when I got home and he said you better from that virus? I hadn’t seen him since Saturday. He said what did you learn and I said what? He goes what did you learn from being hungover?

  Without thinking I said I need to hide it better.

  He stood up and said that is exactly what I’m talking about. I was like calm down, Don, and he said I will not calm down. Not with you making an ass of yourself at a game in front of recruiters.

  I guess I should’ve known.

  So I said okay, I’ll remember to take it easy and he hit me. I fell down.

  He goes you remember that. And this, too: your brother thinks he wants to go to Nebraska, and the recruiters flew out here to watch him again, you understand that? Scouts don’t fly for nothing. Especially to a shitty town like Armbrister, you hear me? I started to say yeah, Armbrister’s pretty shitty, but I thought he’d hit me again. Or kick me, maybe.

  I said I hear you.

  He goes so we’re at the game after we both got time off to watch your brother play the game of his life when his teenage sister staggers out of the crowd shitfaced. You understand that?

  I said yeah.

  He goes yeah, what?

  Yeah, I understand.

  He said I bet you don’t remember a lot from that night.

  He’s right, too. I hate that. But he is.

  He said you’re hanging out with a bunch of boys, getting loaded. You’re gonna wind up knocked up. And you know who will have to support your slutty ass? Me, that’s who.

  Without thinking about it I said you don’t support shit. I saw him get mad but I had enough time to move before he tried to kick me. I rolled across the floor. That made him even madder. I was like my mom supports you, and you think my brother’s gonna support you when he goes pro.

  He kinda took a running kick at me. I could feel all the air leave when his foot hit. How is a guy who spends all his time on the couch so fast?

  He said listen, you little shit. You’re not gonna talk to me like that.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  If you had discipline in your life you wouldn’t talk to me like that. You’d respect your elders.

  I still couldn’t breathe. I could feel his foot in my stomach and his handprint across my face.

  I tried to talk and nothing came out a bunch of times. When something did I said I’m gonna tell my mother.

  He didn’t look scared. He said grow the fuck up, Dixon. Take some responsibility. You fucked up.

  You kicked me.

  You fucked up, he said. If your brother doesn’t get into Nebraska because of you it’ll get even worse. You understand?

  What was he gonna do, kick me out? He’d be doing me a favor.

  And just because your mother won’t discipline you doesn’t mean I won’t. And she knows that already.

  * * *

  The bike was behind the house the whole time Don was kicking my ass. I kept thinking about how he’d hit me more for having it. But he didn’t know.

  I grabbed the M-80s and Silver Salutes and put them in my bag on my way out the door.

  First I biked over to the Pines. I was hoping Mary would be there. She wasn’t. No one was. I think maybe no one is except for nights and weekends. Every time I go there are more butts and broken bottles. I looked around for a roach but couldn’t find one.

  I went into one of the houses and lit a Silver Salute but I didn’t really care. I knew what was gonna happen. Same as always. An M-80, too. I taped them, but I erased it.

  So instead I biked to the supermarket. There were more empty parking spaces there than I thought.

  I checked door handles and they were all open. I got all kinds of stuff: a GPS, an iPhone, and an iPad! I never had one of those before. It’s cool-looking. And the best part is I found a purse. Like a whole purse, just sitting there. If you’re going shopping, why would you leave your purse in the car? It makes no sense. But they did. Or, she did. Jocelyn O’Donohugh. That’s the name on the card. I also got sixty bucks.

  From there I went to the L’il Bee to see if Ding was there. He wasn’t.

  I didn’t want to take the bike home again because of Don, so I took it to school and thought I’d walk home.

  But on the way back I saw Mary leaving.

  She said hey, what are you doing? I said just going for a walk. She said do you wanna get high? and I said yeah, so we went down to the L’il Bee and back up the quarry path.

  She said let’s stop at the hearse.

  We passed her joint back and forth on the way up there. She was talking about school. I said do you wanna see something cool? She said okay. I got out an M-80 and her eyes got all big. She asked me where I got it, and I told her I know a guy. She laughed and said who? All mysterious-like I was like I can’t tell you. I laughed. She did, too.

  When we got to the hearse I asked where we should light it off. She said maybe in here and held up a Poweraid bottle. It had a wide mouth. I was like that’s perfect. I lit the M-80 and dropped it into the bottle. We hid behind the hearse, watching when it blew up and shredded the bottle. All that was left was the top and bottom. She laughed and grabbed my hand when it went off and asked if I had any more. I did. She let go of my hand and we looked for another bottle. There weren’t any more in the hearse or on the ground, just broken glass.

  She said what about the hearse?

  We decided on under the hood. We both had to lift it because it was heavy and kinda rusted shut.

  I lit another one and put it on the engine, which was hard because I could only use one hand because the hood was so heavy, and we dropped it shut.

  I thought it might go out, but it went off with a noise that sounded even louder than usual. The hood kinda poofed out a little.

  We both laughed and laughed. She said that was awesome and hugged me.

  I could hear myself talking without knowing what I was gonna say next. I was telling her that my guy has all kinds of cool shit and I went down to the Pines to blow things up. Boards and stuff. You could see scorch marks on wood. She said every time we come to the hearse from now on we’ll remember today when we see the hood. Even though I don’t want to remember fucking Don kicking me.

  I started telling Mary but I got off track and told her I was tired of living at my mom’s and I wanted to drop out and get a job but my mom’s boyfriend would kick my ass if I did. She said I wanna drop out, too. School’s stupid. She said I could sleep on her brother’s couch. He delivers pizzas. Sometimes he buys her beers. I said that’s cool. Who else has a place? She said Steve and Earl. It’s awesome. Gross, though. Like they never clean and there’s always beer cans everywhere. Arnold has one, too. Same thing. Why can’t boys ever clean up?

  She started laughing. So did I.

  She kinda put her hand on my side where Don kicked me. I jumped back and she said oh, I’m sorry I thought and I was like no, it’s not that and pulled my shirt up. The bruise looked pretty gross and she made a noise and said that’s horrible, who did that to you? I told her my mom’s boyfriend. She touched it really soft and said that’s terrible and kinda leaned in and then we were kissing.

  I wanted to be like I’m not a dyke. But I liked it. I like her. I want her to like me.

  So we kissed for a while, with tongue and everything, and I felt around under her shirt even though I was like whoa, maybe I am a dyke.

  She said are you okay? and I was like yeah. Then without thinking I was like I have some shit to show you and went in my bag. She said more fireworks? I pulled out the iPad. She said oh, cool, I didn’t know you had one of those. I was like I didn’t, until an hour ago. She said what? and I told her about getting what I can to help move out. About the supermarket parking lot. She said I never did that and I was like it’s easy. She asked me if I ever worry ab
out fingerprints. I told her no. I never thought of that. I should wipe door handles. Or get some gloves.

  She said she should get going. She went over to the hood and rubbed her hand across the bump where the M-80 was.

  When we went back to the L’il Bee Ding was there. I was like my guy is here and she said that guy? and started laughing. I was like what? and she said never mind, see you at school. And she left. I wanted to ask her when I would see her again but I didn’t.

  I got in Ding’s car.

  He said was that you a while ago?

  I said I don’t know what you’re talking about but I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. He asked who else was back there and I said Mary Hawkins. He said how was her shit? I said good. He asked if I wanted some shit better than hers. I said no, I wanted money. He kinda sat up and said what do you have in mind? and I went into my bag and got the phone.

  Oh, he said.

  I was like yeah, I got this and some other stuff. Check it out. Then I took out the iPad. I saved the credit card for last.

  He said the thing about cards is they get reported stolen fast. Like right when a person notices. You can fill your tank or get some beer but it’s not like you can use it for more than that.

  He said I should throw it down a drain.

  I asked how much for everything and he said let’s see. You sure you don’t want some real good shit? Or fireworks?

  I said I told you, cash.

  You in trouble?

  I said I was saving to move.

  He said let me know if you ever wanna make some real money.

  15.

  HE STANDS WEARING A MICROPHONE, THIN in a pinstripe suit and smiling, the youngest in history. His success—both writing and hosting his own smash game show—is marveled over by the American public. Who knew such a talent could originate in, of all places, a depressed New Hampshire mill town?

  “Welcome back to Love Balloon! I’m your host, Zack Fox.”

  A panning shot of the live studio audience, cheering wildly.