“When we get to Los Angeles, where are we going first?” Austin asked Cremora. He was thinking about Emily, alone, somewhere in the big city. He remembered the look in her eyes, the last look, and the guilt made his face draw up.
“I think she’ll go to Hollywood Boulevard. She’s talked about it all her life. That’s where we should start.”
Kenneth saw Cremora’s full name written on the inside cover of the paperback book. He said, “Maybe this would be a good time, Ms. Watson, for you to give Austin here a few tips about the honeymoon night. Because if we are successful in location Emily, and we can get these two kids back together, Mr. McAdoo could be faced with the prospect of marital relations. It’s my belief he may be limited in this area.”
Austin felt his face redden. He was unsure how to respond, so he stared straight ahead as if the act of driving suddenly demanded his total attention.
Cremora didn’t hesitate, “Well, it’s a very complicated hole, that’s for sure, but don’t overestimate the damn thing. It’s still just a hole.”
Austin had never heard a woman speak so bluntly about those forbidden parts. He continued to stare straight ahead down the long road stretching forever through the middle of the soft brown desert.
“Where the hell are we?” Kenneth asked, “Where’s Interstate 15? That’s what we took out of Las Vegas. It’s a straight shot to LA.”
Austin glanced at Cremora. He tried to remember how he had gotten to the gas station and which way he turned back on the road, and then he looked up to the sun in the sky to try and get his bearings like a lost hunter.
“Where the hell are we?” Kenneth repeated.
Austin defended himself loudly. “I can’t do everything. I can’t drive and worry about gas and keep up with the map.”
“There’s no map, “Kenneth said.
Austin bellowed, “Where’s the map?”
Kenneth said, “You ate the map, you fat bastard.”
The front right tire exploded like a shotgun blast. Some tires leak slowly. Some go flat in silence and cause the car to wobble. This tire blew out like a birthday balloon, pieces shooting in different directions, black streams of rubber spinning into the sand.
Austin grasped the steering wheel, slammed on the brakes, and the wounded car lumbered to a pathetic standstill.
Kenneth said, “That was some crazy shit. Who knows how to change a tire?”
Austin couldn’t catch his breath. His body had reached and crossed boundaries of stress and tribulation never before considered possible. Austin sucked in a cubic yard of air wondering if it might be his last oxygen. Kenneth crawled out the back window, squeezing through the hole in the glass like the car was giving birth to a full grown, man-sized bird.
Austin had never changed a tire in his life. He watched his mother do it once, when he was a kid, on the side of the road in Florida, but all he could remember was a feeling of helplessness. He removed himself from the car and walked to the trunk area where he met Cremora.
“Where did all this ham come from?”
Austin said, “I’m a canned ham salesman. Rather, I should say, I used to be a canned ham salesman. I resigned to travel with Emily.”
Kenneth wandered into the desert, searching for a fascinating location to urinate. He began to do his business, trying, as usual, to urinate his name in the sand while imagining the feasibility of making a new wheel for the car out of wood. Kenneth looked out across the barren landscape. At a great distance, in the haze of the summer heat, he saw something small moving in his direction. Kenneth squinted his eyes and moved his head in order to see better. He kept his eyes on the movement as he finished and zipped. It was a dog. A small dog. A Benji look-alike. Running at a good clip. Holding something in his mouth. Kenneth stood his ground and watched the small dog get closer and closer. He could hear the sounds of the tire tools behind, but didn’t turn to look. A dog in the desert was much more interesting and glorious. He thought, “How far has this dog come? How many days and nights has he traveled through the hot sands to get where he’s supposed to be?”
The dog came directly to Kenneth. In his mouth he held a package of small, white powdered doughnuts. The kind every kid loves. The dog dropped the package gently at the feet of Kenneth Mint. Kenneth looked at the doughnuts, at the dog, and then back at the doughnuts.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said. “In exchange for your doughnuts, your only worldly possession, you can ride in our car to Los Angeles. After that, I can’t promise anything.”
The dog seemed to understand the agreement and nodded his head slightly as a sign of ratification. Kenneth bent down and picked up his doughnuts. He ate the doughnuts, one by one, as the dog watched. After all, Kenneth thought, that was the deal, and the doughnuts were unbelievably delicious. When he was finished, he picked up the dog and went back to the car where Cremora was bent down on one knee tightening the last nut on the undersized spare tire.
Cremora looked up at the two men peering down at her. “It’s nice to be with such handy men. If I left you two here on the side of the road, do you think you’d survive through the night?”
“No,” Austin said and immediately wished he hadn’t. He noticed the dog in Kenneth’s arms. “That dog is not entering my vehicle.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Kenneth said.
Austin repeated, “We don’t have a choice?”
“No, I’m sorry. We reached an agreement. I’m bound by a contractual obligation to transport him to Los Angeles in exchange for good and valuable consideration.”
Cremora asked, “What was the good and valuable consideration?”
Kenneth looked down at the dog. “I’d rather not say.
Austin raised his voice two octaves. “You expect me to give a stray dog a ride to Los Angeles because you reached an agreement on the side of the road with this animal?”
Kenneth contemplated the question. “Yes.”
“You’re an idiot. I tell you what, you stay here with your new companion. You’ve caused nothing but problems since the first minute you entered my life. I’ve come to the conclusion that you are the common denominator underneath each negative event. It’s time for us to part ways.”
Kenneth looked down at Cremora. She glanced up in his direction as she lowered the car to the ground, turn by turn. When the tire touched the earth, Kenneth went to the back of the red car, slammed the trunk closed, and crawled into the car with the dog in his arms and nestled back in his place amongst the canned hams, hair coat, and empty snack bags.
Austin opened the car door and leaned inside as best he could. “Get out of the car, Kenneth.”
“I can’t possibly do it, Austin. I’d like to help you, but I can’t. God has spoken to me and He said, loud and clear, ‘Kenneth, don’t get out of the car. You and the dog are needed in Los Angeles. Don’t let anything stop you’.”
Austin noticed white powder on Kenneth’s upper lip. Kenneth saw Austin glance at his lip and sent his tongue exploring the area, rewarded with the sweet taste of powdered sugar. Neither man mentioned the exchange.
“Kenneth, on the first opportunity, I will leave you, regardless of what message you believe God has given. You are a disgusting man.”
Kenneth wished he’d left the fat bastard in Las Vegas and taken the money. He watched Cremora and Austin get in the car, and he stared at the back of Austin’s head, imagining the flat end of a shovel slamming against the ink-black hair.
As they rode in silence, Kenneth saw a spider crawling up the back of Austin’s seat. It was a small spider with what looked to be a tiny horn on its head. It moved up quickly and then stopped on Austin’s shoulder. The spider veered left and Kenneth stuck out his index finger, herding the spider back northward in Austin’s direction. The spider got off track to the right and again was redirected by Kenneth’s thin finger to the target of Austin’s neck area.
Kenneth and the panting dog watched closely as the angry little spider reached the collar of Au
stin’s shirt. There was a brief hesitation, and then the horned spider disappeared over the edge of the collar and moved unseen into the double extra-large cotton shirt, making his way to the silver-dollar-sized left nipple of the unaware driver.
Austin felt a tickle and scratched the area, infuriating the spider and causing the little evil beast to bite down with tiny teeth into the nipple flesh of Austin McAdoo.
The big man released a howl of Biblical magnitude, slapped his chest with both hands, and sent the car wildly left, and then right, as Cremora reached for the wheel and the dog buried his face into the pungent armpit of Kenneth.
Austin slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a sudden halt halfway in the soft sand. His heart palpitated, stopped, and started again at a breakneck pace.
“What happened?” Cremora yelled. “What happened?”
“I’ve been bitten. My nipple.”
Kenneth was unable to refrain from smiling as he imagined the spider attached to the tip of Austin’s sensitive pink appendage.
“I can’t breathe,” he gasped.
Cremora was fast to act. “Let me drive. Get out. Let me drive.”
She jumped out of the passenger side, ran around the front of the car, and arrived at the driver’s door. Austin was pulling his great weight across the console to the passenger’s seat and having a difficult time making headway. Cremora pushed with both hands against his mountainous back until Austin was finally out of the way enough for Cremora to drive.
She drove a hundred miles an hour. Austin was incoherently moaning like a sickly moose. Against his wishes, Kenneth began to worry about the moaning man up front. There was a turn, and a sign, and finally a hospital. The red car skidded into a pole outside the door of the emergency room.
Cremora turned to Kenneth. “Get off your lazy ass and help me.”
Kenneth did as he was told, leaving the dog and climbing out the back window. He helped Cremora get Austin partially out of the car. Two hospital employees showed up to assist. Austin was limp and sweaty. His ass was too wide for the wheelchair, and Austin rolled over to the ground. Eventually, with additional assistance and determination, Austin’s body ended up in a room with a Middle Eastern doctor and a nurse with one blue eye and one brown eye.
“What happened?” the doctor asked Cremora.
“I don’t know. He just grabbed his chest. He said he’d been bitten.”
Kenneth added, “I think it was a spider.”
The doctor asked, “Is he allergic to any medication?”
Cremora and Kenneth looked at each other. Cremora shrugged her shoulders. Austin mumbled, “I’m allergic to relish.”
Kenneth said sharply, “Relish isn’t a medication, doofus.”
The doctor pulled up Austin’s shirt. The left nipple was inflamed and there was noticeable swelling of the breast, taking on the appearance of a D-cup.
“Oh my God,” Kenneth said.
The doctor asked, “Could you two wait in the lobby? I’ll come give you an update when we know something.”
On the way down the hall Kenneth asked, “Did you see that?”
“Yes,” she said, and then continued, “How did you know it was a spider?”
“Spiders kill more people worldwide than any other single insect or mammal.”
“Oh,” Cremora said.
Kenneth got the dog out of the car and sat in the clean lobby next to Cremora. The dog enjoyed being rubbed on his head and closed his eyes in ecstasy.
Cremora said, “I’m worried about Austin. What if he dies?”
“I guess you’ll have to drive.”
Cremora shook her head. “What is the matter with you? Really? What happened to you that made you so fucked up? I’m curious.”
Kenneth, still rubbing the dog’s head, said, “Everyone has a cage, either self-created, forced upon them, or some combination of the two. It doesn’t matter. I just don’t spend as much time as other people contemplating the prospect of release, good or bad.”
Cremora said, “It’s one thing to be like me, putting up a front. It’s another thing to be like you. You don’t know the difference any more, do you? You’ve lost sight.”
Kenneth started to say something and then changed his mind. Cremora wanted to ask another question, and then changed her mind. So they sat in the empty lobby of the small-town emergency room, side by side, and said nothing. It was uncomfortable for the first five minutes. After that, the silence itself brought an unexpected comfort to both of them. And the dog from the desert seemed to appreciate it all.
Almost an hour later, the Middle Eastern doctor returned to the lobby.
“Your friend has apparently been bitten by something.”
“A spider,” Kenneth said.
“Likely,” the doctor answered. “He doesn’t seem to be suffering an allergic reaction. I don’t think the spider or insect was highly poisonous. However, his breast has swollen quite large. I’ve got some antiinflammatory samples.”
“Can we see his breast?” Kenneth asked.
“That’s an odd question, but you can come to the back and see Mr. McAdoo before he’s released.”
Austin’s shirt was off. Kenneth was fixated. “Oh my God,” he said upon the sight of Austin’s new boob.
Austin said, “Stop, you moron.”
“It’s not so bad,” Kenneth said. “If you just look at the one boob, and nothing else, it’s attractive by itself.”
He looked at Cremora and asked, “Don’t you think?”
Cremora hesitated and then said, “Yeah, I guess so. Does it hurt?”
“Does it hurt?” Austin said. “It hurts like there’s a cigarette lighter on my nipple. It hurts like I’ve been shot, red-hot shrapnel on my nerve ends. Yes, it hurts. I have a very low tolerance for pain anyway.”
Cremora asked the doctor, “How long does it take to get from here to Los Angeles?”
“In a car?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Two and a half, three hours. Mr. McAdoo should keep cool and drink lots of fluids.”
Kenneth asked, “Can he eat ham, because that’s all we’ve got, ham?”
“Ham is no problem.”
“Good,” Kenneth said. “Would it be possible for us to get some free samples of painkillers in the event Mr. McAdoo has a problem?”
“I’ve given him a few, but they’re not for you, sir.”
“Okay, instead, could you clean my dog’s ass with a Q-tip?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Austin said.
Kenneth acted confused. “I thought you were a veterinary proctologist. That’s what we asked for. We specifically requested a veterinary proctologist.”
Kenneth returned to the car first, always conscious of being left behind. Cremora settled in the driver’s seat as the nurse helped Austin into the passenger’s side.
“Your husband’s a lucky man,” Kenneth said to the nurse.
“Don’t ask him why,” Cremora warned.
Kenneth, slightly disappointed, said, “Can you see out of the brown one, or is it just rotten?”
Austin closed the door to create a barrier between the nice nurse and the foul man. He took a deep breath and said softly, “Do you think it might be possible for us to focus on our mission and travel the remaining distance to Los Angeles without speaking a single word? Is that a possibility?”
Cremora started the car.
Kenneth said, “I don’t think so. I really don’t,” and then scratched himself.
CHAPTER 12
Austin felt sleep settle upon him. The pill he was given slowed everything and caused his eyelids to droop. His mind turned home to Emily, and he dreamed of her. She was in the front yard. Austin stood at the window in the dining room, watching her. Emily wore a blue dress, loose and light in the warm breeze. She was barefooted, looking down the neighborhood street, and Austin was struck by her profile, not smiling, but instead, beyond a smile to the edge of satisfaction. A central happiness.
And for no a
pparent reason, she turned and looked at Austin at the window. Inside of him, Austin felt the butterflies rise in his stomach. There was a distant, unexpected smell of buttery popcorn, and a feeling of utter and complete connection. He was not alone on this planet of six billion strangers, and neither was she, and Austin waited to see her mouth break into a smile, and her barefeet step toward the door of their house. But she didn’t move. And the proper amount of time passed by. And Austin came to realize she wasn’t coming to the door, but instead, Emily would soon turn and walk away.
The sadness started in the arches of his cyclopean feet and rose like poison smoke through his legs, into his hips, past the once-pink lungs, and invaded his sinuses. In the dream Austin took a long deep breath, slowly filling himself with air, and then just as slowly, releasing the air, trying not to cry. And then she was saying something. Emily’s lips were mouthing the words he couldn’t possibly hear. So Austin cupped his ear, the universal sign, and Emily raised her voice, but he still couldn’t quite capture the words, leaning close to the window, his face contorted.
Emily yelled, “Do you like pie?”
He heard the four words, but certainly, he thought, in a dream such as this, Emily wouldn’t have asked, “Do you like pie?”
So she yelled it again, unladylike, “Do you like pie?
It was unmistakable. The question could not be ignored. So Austin bellowed, both in the dream and from his place in the passenger side of the little red car, “Yes, I like pie.”
Kenneth said, “Get the man some pie.”
Austin opened his eyes. At first he wasn’t sure where he was, but, as he came to his senses, Austin felt the throbbing in his bosom and remembered his circumstances. Kenneth shoved his hand under the driver’s seat and pulled out a section of newspaper. On the bottom right corner of the page was a small article. Kenneth read out loud:
“A group of mountain climbers scaling the Alps in Switzerland stumbled upon a curious discovery. As David Chessup approached a high peak on the mountain range, he saw something peculiar. Lined up neatly in the snow were fifty pairs of women’s high heeled shoes, side by side, each filled with butter. Chessup said, “We just stood there, all three of us, for a long time, trying to imagine how the shoes got there and why. There were red shoes, white, black, all different colors, facing the same way, all filled with butter. It was a strange thing to see on top of a mountain.”
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