Mr. 60%

by Clete Barrett Smith

  Matt shook his head. “That’s the other part. I’m not even supposed to be living with him. You know, legally.” He stopped and looked around the room as if just realizing where he was. “I shouldn’t even be talking about this.” He stood and dumped the rest of his coffee, then stared out the window above the sink.

  Amanda got up from her chair and brought her cup over to Matt. He poured it down the drain, never taking his eyes from the window.

  “If you need all this to stay quiet, you know the best part about sharing it with me?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have, like, three total followers on all of my social media accounts. Combined. And one of those is my mom.” She sighed heavily, for effect. “And…okay, so another one is a fake account I made for my cat.”

  Matt grunted something that might have been a laugh.

  “Sorry. Lame joke.” Amanda briefly placed her hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I’m just trying to tell you that your secret is safe with me. You know, if you want to talk.” Matt continued to stare out the window until Amanda took a step away. “But you don’t have to tell me,” she hurriedly added. “I can leave and let you get some rest. If you ever do want to talk, though, I just want you to know that you can trust me.”

  Matt turned his head and looked at her. Really looked at her. He believed her. And he didn’t want her to leave. He wasn’t ready for the silence of the trailer just yet.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  Matt crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “Can your cat keep his damn mouth shut?”

  “Matt! Was that actually a joke?”

  He grunted again. “Come here,” he said.

  She followed him into the living room area and took a seat on the couch while he perched on the arm of Jack’s recliner. “My living situation has been messed up for kind of a long time.” He studied his hands for a while before starting again.

  “I never met my dad,” he said. “My mom had to leave when I was thirteen. I lived on my own for a couple of months until CPS caught up with me. I think someone at school must have tipped them off.

  “They gave me two choices. Live with my grandma or go into foster care. I had only seen my grandma a couple times, but it was enough to know that I didn’t want to live there. And I don’t know if you know much about foster care, but I had a couple buddies in middle school that were in the system. Sounded like it really sucked.”

  Matt’s stomach went cold at the memory of that time. Life with his mother had been full of times that were difficult and often frightening, but at least he had come to know what to expect. The uncertainty and loneliness of the alone months had been much worse.

  “That’s when Jack came back. He was always traveling, bouncing around from one job to the next, but he would always come and crash with us for a few weeks, or a few months, in between. Those times were the best. And even when he wasn’t there, he never forgot a birthday or Christmas. Even Halloween. Only mail I’ve ever gotten in my life was from him.”

  Matt paused and shook his head. What the hell would next Christmas be like?

  It was quiet for a while. Eventually, Amanda said, “He came back for good that time?”

  “Yeah, when Jack found out what was going on, he decided to stay with me until I got through high school. It might not sound like much, but for a guy like that, always on the go, to stay in one spot is a pretty big deal.

  “But he knew he couldn’t make it official, you know, fill out the paperwork and be an official foster care guy or whatever. He’d done some time here and there and probably had a few warrants out for all I know. So we never told anybody. If there’s ever any forms that we can’t get around filling out, from school or wherever, we list my bio-dad’s mom’s address as mine. She’s never been in the picture, but at least it keeps anyone from any agency from sniffing around. But we can’t go signing up for any social services or anything. People start asking questions, and we can’t afford that. Can’t afford for them to try and make me live someplace else. With someone else.”

  Amanda offered a comforting pat on his arm but remained silent.

  “We get along together, you know? And it was fine, and would still be fine, if he hadn’t gotten sick. We’ve been fine. It’s always been just the two of us.”

  Matt didn’t notice the pain in his throat until he tried to swallow and it felt like a golf ball was lodged in there. “But pretty soon it’s only gonna be one of us.”

  Saying it out loud had made it more real. Matt was going to be alone.

  Back at school it became difficult, for the first time, to maintain his 60 percent average. While his teachers droned on he found himself picturing it, aloneness, maybe trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. But for some reason it was impossible to imagine. He could picture an empty trailer. He could picture Jack not being there. There had been lots of times when Jack had not been there while he was growing up, for a few weeks or even several months. What he could not imagine was Jack not coming back. The rational side of him knew it was going to happen, but the other part of him didn’t know what that could possibly feel like.

  Amanda stopped by the trailer the next day with a magazine for Jack and a plate of food for Matt. But Matt didn’t feel like talking anymore. Didn’t feel like he could. Jack was taking a nap, and Matt just turned out all the lights and drew the curtains. After knocking a few times, Amanda left her gifts on the makeshift wooden steps outside the front door.

  He avoided her the next week at school, too. Matt thought that might help him deal, not talking to anyone about this again. Maybe allow him to block everything out of his mind.

  It didn’t.

  —

  With a few minutes left in the lunch period, Matt was still talking to a group of guys in the stairwell by the gym. The junior prom was coming up and everyone wanted to make sure they had enough weed and pills for their parties. Usually Matt had a more take-it-or-leave-it stance on how much he could offer—he didn’t want to have to listen to everyone’s stories and try to adjust his amounts with Big Ed—but he could use the extra money this month. He checked the time and made an excuse to get away from those guys. He walked to the lunchroom.

  On the way, he had extra sensors out for Gill and Hershey. Those two had been entirely too quiet lately, and no way did Matt believe it had anything to do with his attendance at Helping Hands. Getting frisked on a weekly basis might’ve been a pain in the ass, but it was better than wondering what they were up to.

  When he got to the cafeteria, Amanda was sitting at one of the smaller tables, homework spread over the table and her backpack on an empty chair.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi, Matt.”

  “So…how’s it goin’?”

  She gave him a half-smile. “Not bad. Just trying to catch up on some science homework.”

  “Right.” Matt looked around the cafeteria. Pulled out a chair halfway but didn’t sit down. Pushed it back.

  He didn’t know how to say what he came to say. Or even if he should say it. The only person he had ever asked anything from was Jack.

  Amanda broke the awkward silence. “Actually, if I’m being honest, the homework is just a distraction.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I had this interview. For nursing school. It wasn’t…I don’t think it went very well.”

  “What? Come on. You’re good at talking. Who wouldn’t like you, if they sit down and talk to you for an hour?”

  Amanda’s smile was the biggest he’d ever seen on her, but she looked away and shook her head. “I wish. I started…it’s so embarrassing.”

  “What?” Matt pulled the seat halfway out again.

  Amanda took a deep breath. “I started crying. Not, like, bad-crying, you know? But they were asking about my experience with sick people, and I started to think about that little bit of time I got to spend with Jack.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she continued. “I just…it really hi
t me. The people I would be working with—they are real people with real families who care about them. Like Jack.” She paused. “Like my dad.”

  Matt sat down.

  “Anyway, I don’t know when I’ll hear back, but I think I blew it. They probably think I’m a basket case.” Amanda gestured to the papers on the table. “So I think I’m just trying to take my mind off it.”

  “I know what you mean.” They were quiet for a moment.

  Amanda wiped her eyes and sat up a bit straighter. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m making this about me. How’s Jack feeling? I should have asked right away.”

  It took Matt a while to get started.

  “He’s…I don’t know. I guess the pain is mostly under control, but he’s been sleeping a ton this week. And he doesn’t eat very much. I mean, he hasn’t eaten much for a long time, but I think it’s getting worse.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Amanda said. She looked down. “After stopping by your place a few times…I just…I mean, I’ve been trying to give you a little space now, you know? But if you need anything I hope you know I’m here.”

  Matt nodded. He got out of his chair and turned to go, then looked back at Amanda. “Look…Jack’s been asking about you.”

  “Yeah?” she said. Her eyes brightened. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot. Not just when I’m crying in interviews.” She smiled. “I’ve been thinking about both of you, actually. Hope you’re doing okay.”

  They looked at each other in silence. The words Matt had found in the trailer were more elusive here in the school commons with the drone of a dozen meaningless conversations all around them.

  “I’ve been wanting to do something special for him,” Amanda said. “I don’t know, something girly. Knit him a blanket or something. I know that must sound stupid.”

  Matt shook his head.

  “I don’t even know how to knit,” she said.

  Matt almost smiled. “Okay, maybe that does sound a little stupid, then.”

  Amanda smiled big enough for both of them. “I told you,” she said. “Anyway, please tell him I said hello, okay? I hope he’s feeling better. As well as he can, anyway. You know what I mean.”

  “Okay, I will, and, uh…” When the right words finally came, they came in a rush. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to ask her for this, but what was the alternative? “Okay, so it’s fine if you say no, really, but there’s this errand thing I have to run on Sunday, and it might take a few hours, and I’m a little nervous about leaving Jack alone any more than I have to.” Matt paused. He tried to judge her reaction but was uncomfortable looking her in the eyes just then. He pressed on. “And he’d like to see you again. Really. So if you don’t mind, is there a chance you could maybe stop by? It wouldn’t have to be for the whole two hours or anything, but—”

  “I’d love to,” Amanda said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’d be good,” Matt said. “About noon? Is that cool? I can get you some gas money or something.”

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  There were about twenty cars in front of Matt in line at the US-Canada border checkpoint. It gave him plenty of time to think about what he was doing.

  The pickup had been no drama, no stress. Just a bored-looking middle-aged guy, like Big Ed, at a condominium complex downtown across the street from a Tim Hortons coffee shop. He asked Matt a few questions to verify his identity and then handed over the box of product and directions for the stateside drop-off. Matt stuffed the box in the trunk of the rental that Ed had set him up with. The entire exchange had taken less than ten minutes.

  That wasn’t the part Matt had been worried about, anyway. If there had been any problems on that end—sketchy guys involved in the deal or whatever—and he had taken a beating, he could have dealt with that. He’d taken a beating before.

  But he couldn’t deal with the fallout if the border crossing went sideways. Couldn’t sit in a cage while Jack suffered alone at the trailer. He breathed deeply, trying to relax and reclaim the do-or-die clarity it had taken to make this decision. But he couldn’t find it again. Right now, watching each car snake past the warning lights and stop at the booth to talk to a border patrol agent, this seemed like the stupidest thing he could possibly be doing, the worst decision he had ever made.

  Matt’s eyes were restless, scanning the scene in front of him. Dozens of cameras mounted on the main building and on posts along the roadway watched the cars. There were probably more cameras hidden along this route. He had heard there were all sorts of secret microphones at the border, the kinds from spy movies that could zoom in and hear conversations from long distances. He had no way of knowing whether or not that was true, but he was still grateful he was doing this job alone.

  He nudged his car closer to the security booth. The line was crawling along yet moving way too fast at the same time. He was fifteen cars away. An agent in a green uniform exited the main building off to his left, leading a dog on a leash. Shit. How close did a drug-sniffer have to be to do its job? He watched as the guy with the dog spoke to two other agents. The dog sat at his side and stared at the line of cars.

  Now he was ten cars away. Could that dog smell right through the car or did they have to open up the doors first?

  Cold sweat poured from Matt’s armpits and ran down his sides.

  Eight cars.

  The agent with the dog left the two other guys and started walking. He stopped at the security booth where Matt was in line. He and the agent there spoke briefly, then looked up and down the line of cars.

  Seven.

  Matt dug his fingernails into the steering wheel in a death grip. He looked in the rearview mirror, saw dozens of cars behind him. The lines of cars on either side of him stretched equally far back. There was no turning around, no backing out.

  Five. Matt was close enough to see the tags on the dog’s collar.

  Suddenly the dog’s head snapped up. Oh no. Was he looking at the car? No no no no. He was. He was looking right at Matt through the windshield. In just a minute that border agent would look around to see what the dog was staring at. And then in another thirty seconds he was going to walk right up to the car and ask Matt some questions he couldn’t answer and—Goddammit, why was that stupid dog staring at him? Why couldn’t he just—

  No. A bird was flying by. The dog tracked it until it zipped out of sight, then resumed his stare into the middle distance. Matt unclenched his fists from the steering wheel.

  The agent and the dog left Matt’s line, walked along the row of security booths and disappeared into another building.

  Matt ran over answers to the border agent’s potential questions in his head. He had to make sure his voice sounded normal when he got up there. But his throat was so dry. He’d started to speak aloud, practicing, when he remembered the possibility of the hidden microphones. He shut his mouth again.

  Four cars.

  The SUV at the booth was taking forever. Matt had heard so many horror stories about the border, not from people in the business but from average, everyday people. The law was different here. None of that probable-cause, due-process, please-show-me-your-warrant-Mr.-Officer shit. He’d heard that they could ask you to pull over and give you absolutely no reason for it. He’d heard that they could take your car apart, literally take it apart into a million little pieces. And when they were done, even if they didn’t find anything, they could just say, “Have a nice day,” and you were responsible for getting your car put back together and getting out of there.

  Matt tried to think about the money. If he somehow managed to get through this, he wouldn’t have to worry about rent or food for a few months. And he could stock up on some meds. If only he could get past the next few minutes.

  The SUV pulled away. Matt wiped his palms on his jeans.

  Three cars.

  He got a wild idea that the trunk had popped ope
n all by itself, could imagine it perfectly in his mind, the trunk wide open and bouncing up and down each time he nudged the car forward. It took a great deal of willpower not to glance backward to check that it was still closed.

  Two.

  He was close enough to clearly see the border patrol agent, the badge he wore and the mole on his face. He waved that car through and now only one car separated Matt from the booth.

  Matt forced himself to stop staring at the agent. He focused straight through the windshield and tried to control his breathing. The light turned green. Matt eased the car forward and stopped in front of the booth.

  “ID.”

  Matt lifted his license from the front seat and handed it to the agent.

  “Citizenship?”

  “American.”

  “How long were you in Canada?”

  “Couple of hours.” At first Matt thought his voice was too loud, then he worried that it was too soft.

  “What were you doing?”

  “Just meeting a couple of friends. We saw a movie.”

  “Which theater?”

  Matt’s mind stuck in neutral for a minute. He had the name of a current movie at the ready, had the plot memorized from the trailer and knew all the actors. The agent’s question was a total surprise. Seconds were ticking by. Shit.

  “I can’t remember the name. But it’s the one with the rocket ship statue on top.” Matt’s heart raced. This was it. No way would the agent let Matt through. It was over. Would he get a phone call, at least? He realized he didn’t even know where they were going to take him after they arrested him. Canada or the US? Shit shit shit.

  “Bringing anything home with you?”

  “Huh?”

  The agent’s eyes narrowed briefly. “Taking anything from Canada back across the border?”