His mother got in the car and put on her sunglasses without saying anything. They passed a hodgepodge of specialty shops, restaurants, a gas station and a few houses that hadn’t yet caved to commercial development. “I want him gone,” Alex said.
“Sad as it is,” his mother responded, “that’s one thing we agree on.”
“Really? That’s a first.”
“I thought we’d give it a few more weeks,” she said. “But that’ll just make it harder on everyone.”
“Wait, mom, who are you talking about?”
“Mr. Bray, of course.”
“Bullshit—I was talking about Kruger. I don’t want Mr. Bray to leave. He should stay. But I can’t stand that asshole shrink anymore.”
“Watch your language,” she said. She was all reflexes when it came to profanity. “You and I can discuss a gradual tapering.” She made a descending staircase with her non-driving hand. “When you’re ready.”
“It’s been three years, mom. Three years of babbling bullshit! I don’t wanna see that dick-face again.”
“Enough!” She sped the car around a right-turning Mercedes. “We might be able to come up with something…as long as your behavior doesn’t degenerate.”
“What something?” he asked.
“If we can get the pediatrician to continue your medications, we could probably stop seeing Dr. Kruger.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’m in.”
“That’s only part of it. The other part—and I regret having to say this—is that Mr. Bray must take residence elsewhere.”
“You’re serious. I can’t believe it. You’d use the shrink to get rid of Lester.”
“That’s not how I would put it.”
“But that’s how it is.”
“You’ve got your interpretation, I’ve got mine. I’m only trying to do what’s right—”
“Don’t say, for our family, please. I’ve heard enough bullshit for one day.”
The deal she proposed was shameful. He knew that much. But the shame was mixed with an emerging freedom. No more shrink. How liberating was that?
He crouched down in his seat and pulled his cap a little lower. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll go along.”
CHAPTER SIX
In an ideal reality, Lester would have been zapped into someone else’s home right after Alex had agreed to the deal. Everything back to normal at the Riley household. But when Alex came downstairs for breakfast, Lester was hunkered in, eating a bowl of Special K and reading the Times Union.
“Morning,” Alex said, unable to make eye contact.
“Good morning, kid.”
Alex prepared a bowl of cereal and sat at the opposite end of the table. His guilt had kept him up most of the night, and he was tired. He yawned audibly without covering his mouth.
Lester looked up from the paper, eyeballs hovering over a pair of reading glasses. “What the hell you got in there?”
“What?”
“In your mouth?” Lester pointed a finger.
“It’s a tongue piercing,” Alex said.
“It’s plain stupid is what it is.” The old man flipped to the obituaries. “I’ll never know why you kids do that sort of thing. But I guess you got your reasons.”
It was the last thing Alex wanted to talk about. He finished his cereal, got up and poured himself a second bowl.
“I was thinking,” Lester said without looking up from the paper, “you got a good idea.”
“About what?”
“Getting my change turned to cash. If you got the time, we could do it today.”
Alex couldn’t think of a handy excuse, so he said, “No problem.”
But there was a problem, actually two. The first was that Lester wasn’t supposed to drive, and Alex had only just gotten his permit. He’d never actually driven a motorized vehicle unless you want to count go-carts at the FunPlex. Then there was his mother, away at work in her cushy office, leaving Alex clueless as to when she’d pull the plug on Lester. Of all the things to be pissed at her for, this one took the prize.
He now realized that he’d given in too easily. If she’d wanted Lester gone badly enough, she would have made more concessions…perhaps even in a trip to Fort Lauderdale.
An hour after breakfast, they were sitting in Lester’s Cadillac ready to make their way to the Price Chopper grocery store. “Let’s see if she turns,” the old man said. He put the key in the ignition and pumped the gas. The engine sputtered then smoothed itself out to a steady rhythm. He pulled the transmission lever into drive.
“Nice car,” Alex said. “You get it new?”
“Course I did.” He adjusted the rearview mirror. “Took ownership of this beauty well before you were born.”
They galloped forward and quickly reached a decent cruising speed. Alex pointed, “Take a left. It’s about three miles.”
The car had a musty, leathery smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was all black, inside and out, making the silver knobs and the white speedometer numbers stand out like lines on the road. “Feels good to drive again,” Lester said. “If it were up to me, I’d be laid to rest on the day I have to give up my keys.” He pushed the accelerator.
Alex could feel the instantaneous suck of fuel and the thrust of the big V-8. Healthy sounding engine, and strong. The old man had definitely babied it. They drove for a mile or so before anyone spoke.
Then Alex asked, “Where’d you live before?”
“Hospital,” Lester said. “But I don’t remember much of that. Three days I was in a diabetic coma. Then I woke up. All I could see was this fat white man in the bed next to me, snoring his ass off.”
Alex smiled at the mental image.
“I made a slow recovery, apparently too slow for my landlord. He showed up at the hospital to evict me. I was renting some god-awful apartment in Schenectady for a couple of years. Before that, I had a pretty big house. Not like yours, but it was nice.”
“Why’d you move out?”
“My damn sister talked me into selling.” He paused to catch his breath. “I broke my hip mowing the lawn. House was on a pretty steep hill, you see, and I fell right next to that running lawnmower. Scared the crap out of me…literally.”
“You mean you actually shit your pants?”
“I did,” Lester said. “And that’s not the only time. Getting old sucks.”
Alex laughed nervously. “So you came right from the hospital to live with us?”
“Oh, they wanted to put me in a nursing home. But I told them they’d have to shoot me first. No way was I was going into one of them hell-holes alive.” He made an ugly grimace. “That’s when I met Rebecca. I call her Dixie Cup ’cause she’s from Georgia.” The ugly face was gone. “That girl could’ve talked me into government bonds.”
He pulled the car into a handicapped spot, reached for the glove box and pulled out a blue tag with a stick figure in a wheelchair. “This right here’s about the only good thing about getting old.”
Alex placed the big jar in a shopping cart and wheeled it to the store while Lester trailed behind. By the time the old man arrived, Alex was already scooping coins into the machine, which kept a running tally minus its eight-percent cut, all the while spitting out the occasional Canadians. When it was done, the little screen read $263.24. Alex pressed a button for the receipt.
“Told you,” Lester said, “more money than you thought.” He brought the receipt over to customer service. Then he counted out the cash and put all but a twenty into his wallet. “Here you go, kid, take this.”
“Thanks, but no,” Alex said, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Don’t be stubborn.”
Alex didn’t want to make a scene, so he took it. But back in the car he returned the handicapped tag in the glove box and slid the twenty underneath.
“I saw that,” Lester said. “Put it in your pocket. You should get a cut.”
“I don’t want it,” Alex said, shutting the compartment.
&nb
sp; “Well, suit yourself. Can’t say I’ve got much use for it either. Damn sure ain’t going to get my tongue pierced.” He backed out of the spot and turned away from the plaza. “Why’d you get that done anyway?”
“Piss off my mother,” Alex said.
Lester chuckled and slapped the steering wheel. “Guess that’s not such a bad reason. You’ll grow out of it, though. I had the same feeling about my mother for a time. She was as bad as a drill sergeant—should’ve been a drill sergeant.”
“Mine too.”
“But when she passed, nearly twenty years ago, I really did miss her. She died in the same house where I grew up, in Terrell, Alabama. I made her funeral, but I haven’t been home since.”
Even though the temperature inside the car had to be ninety degrees, Alex’s guilt made him feel cold. After a couple of miles, he asked, “Ever think of going back?”
“My sister’s the only one left—lives in that same ramshackle house.” He slowed the Cadillac and turned onto the dead-end street. “I’ve been telling her for years I’d make a visit. But it always seemed like too much trouble.”
“Your driving’s good,” Alex said. “You could do it.”
“Kid, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m an old goat. Ain’t much drive left in me.” He parked on the street and killed the engine. Then he patted the dashboard. “Plenty left in this Caddy, though.”
THE LATE afternoon sun shot across Alex’s room from the open window. He was sitting on his bed with his sketchpad, but he sprang to his feet when he heard a car pulling up to the house. It was a bright red Scion with an open sunroof. Rebecca stepped out and smiled her way to the front porch, because Lester was sitting there playing solitaire. He was an oddball. Even though the porch was no bigger than a broom closet, and hardly anyone drove or walked the dead-end street, the old man had to be there. His defense was that porch-sitting was coded into his genes. End of debate.
Alex couldn’t see either of them, but he could hear Lester calling out, “Dixie Cup. I’ll get you a chair if you want.”
“No that’s fine, Mr. Bray, I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, “long as you don’t block my sunlight.” He went on talking casually, commenting on the stupidity of having a slotted mailbox bolted onto the porch slab in this lily white neighborhood. And Alex had to admit, it was one of his mother’s more neurotic moves. Nearly ten years ago she had worked herself into a frenzy over identity theft, so she hired some Goliath-looking guy to bolt a lock box onto their porch, and only she had the key.
The conversation fell to silence. Then Rebecca said, “I’m not sure how to say this.” More silence, and then it sounded like Rebecca was crying. “You can’t stay here,” she said. “I am so sorry.”
A bolt of guilt shot through Alex’s chest. He wanted to take it all back. Just suck it up and see Dr. Kruger. Suddenly, once a month with the shrink seemed downright reasonable. All he had to do was march down the stairs and call it off.
“Now, now, Dixie Cup,” Lester said. “Don’t cry. It’s all right.”
“But it’s not all right,” she said. “I never should’ve put you here.”
“Got to say, I’m a bit surprised. Was it the mother or the kid?”
Alex was on the verge of combustion.
“I shouldn’t say anything.” She paused, then spoke again. “It was Patricia. She thinks the stairs aren’t safe. She’s really worried about you.”
“The hell she is,” Lester said followed by a sharp guttural sound, like spitting. “No sense arguing about it.”
“I’ve got to put my head together and find something better for you. I’ll be making calls tonight.”
“When do I need to leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “We’ve got a truck coming at four o’clock.”
“You’ll have a place for me by tomorrow at four? That’s quick.”
“Well…no, Mr. Bray. I don’t think I’ll have anything by then. Meantime, you’ll probably have to stay in a nursing home. They’ve got respite beds for this sort of thing.”
“I already told you, goddammit, no nursing homes! You’ll have to drag me in by my dead body.”
“Honestly,” she said, “it would only be for a few days. I’ve got a list of families out there I’m sure would love to have you. It’ll just take a little legwork.”
“Then I’ll be checking myself into a hotel till you find something satisfactory.”
All Alex had to do was speak. Go down and correct the situation. Promise that his mother would change her mind. But he was frozen, left ear glued to the window screen.
“The agency doesn’t expense hotel rooms,” Rebecca said.
“I can pay for a damn room, got more money than I know what to do with. About time I spent it before the government gets its claws around it.”
“Listen, Mr. Bray, I can’t force you to do anything, but the only way for you to stay in our program is to follow the guidelines.”
“You kicking me out?”
“No,” Rebecca said.
“Then what are we doing?”
“We’re coming to a compromise, Mr. Bray. I’ll get the board to approve a hotel temporarily, at your expense. But I’ll need to have one of our home health aides come look after you.”
“You find me one half as pretty as you, and we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He must have been studying her expression, because he went on to say, “That’s better, Dixie Cup.”
It sounded like pages turning. “You’ve got three doctor’s appointments coming up. If you don’t show for those, I will be sending you to a nursing home.”
“You’re a hard woman to shake,” Lester said. “But you’re an angel if ever I did see one. Now you go on and dig me up a good family. And a house with a decent front porch.”
ALEX SAT on his bed slouched against the wall with his headphones on. His yearbook lay on his lap opened to a picture of the cross-country team. Next to the coach stood Britney Garrand, smiling unashamed, braces glistening, parabolic shadows under perky breasts. God, if he could be with her and not in this toxic house.
He began sketching upward from the waist, trading out her Delmar High T for a bikini top, adding maybe a cup size for the summer growing season. Just a little shading here, some curved lines there, and the result was perfection. The far more challenging mission was to draw her face as it appeared in the photo, replicating her smile and her personality. He couldn’t say exactly why he liked her as much as he did, but the answer was right there in her face. If he could capture the essence of it in his drawing, he might discover the answer (even though he had tried all this before with the results ending up in his mother’s shredder). The music was loud, but he had no idea what he was listening to. Lester’s head popped into view. Alex startled. He pulled off his headphones.
“I knocked,” Lester said. “But you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry, didn’t hear you.”
“You’ll blow out your hearing with those things. Won’t happen right away, but when you’re my age you’ll be sorry.”
Alex shrugged and flipped the cover over his sketchpad.
“Came here to say goodbye. I’m not sure you’re aware, but I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
The taste of betrayal was overpowering. All Alex could say was, “Yeah, I wish you weren’t.”
“Me too, kid.”
To show that he wasn’t snooping, he asked, “Where will you go?”
“Can’t say for sure. Think I’ll get a room at the Hilton until something else comes through. I hear they got a nice breakfast and a pool with a Jacuzzi built right in.” It was sad to picture Lester alone in a hotel, even a fancy one, when all he seemed to want was to live with a nice family.
Some kind of anti-gravitational force directed Alex’s eyes to the map and the red thumbtack. It occurred to him that both he and Lester had important members of their family living far away. He sat up a little straighter. “What if you went back to Alabama?”
“Your sister’s got a whole house to herself, right?”
“No way in Hell could I live with her. I’d go crazy on top of all the shit that’s already wrong with me.”
“You could go for a visit.” It was a long shot, popped right out of the park, but he had nothing to lose. “I could go with you.” The thought of helping Lester return to his hometown seemed to appease his guilt.
Lester shook his head. “You got no business going down there.”
“I know, but I was thinking I could hitch a ride the rest of the way down to Fort Lauderdale.”
“You? Hitch a ride? That’s nuts. Not to mention your mother. She’d have a goddamn fit.”
“I wouldn’t tell her.”
“Oh that’s great. Then I’d get arrested for kidnapping, spend my final days in a jail cell.”
“Only if she pressed charges,” Alex said. “And I don’t think she would.”
Lester’s body wavered, like he was fending off a shifting breeze. “I’ll humor you, kid. Why wouldn’t she press charges?”
“Because she couldn’t take the negative publicity.” Alex rose from his bed and stared at the map. He had read somewhere that if you visualized an outcome strongly enough, and you believed in your vision, you could make it a reality. That’s why he’d put the map there in the first place, and it was finally paying off. He could feel it.
“You may have a point there,” Lester said. “But I’m too old, and you can’t drive. So the whole thing’s moot.”
“I can drive,” Alex said, trying to sound believable.
“Listen, kid, I only came here to say goodbye. You’ll have to find some other way to make it down there. For your sake, I hope you do.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
A metallic squeak and a couple of voices penetrated through the barrier of Alex’s sleep. He lifted his head off the pillow and recognized the sounds.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he could hear. It was his mother getting banged by Bill. An awful howl rose out of Bill, followed by different sounds, canine and otherwise.
Then Alex heard Lester muttering profanity in the next room. It made him wonder why anyone would want to live in this house. The deal he had made with his mother was probably in Lester’s best interests. With that guilt-reducing thought in mind, he drifted back to sleep.
Cadillac Chronicles Page 4