by Judy Troy
“It’s okay, honey. Everything’s fine. No problem of any kind.” Glenn squeezed Mike’s arm. “Sleep on it,” he whispered, and followed Inez back to bed.
“Warm up my icy feet,” Mike heard her say.
Mike lay back down. The wind outside had increased. There was no light yet, but he knew that it wasn’t far away. The room was growing shadowy. It was the time of morning he’d been waking up at school, in his small, bare dorm room. But that room didn’t seem so bare to him now, nor did his life at school: walking to his classes, returning to Hansen Hall afterward, and opening his mailbox, hoping to find what he almost always did—an envelope addressed to him in Donetta’s small, back-slanted handwriting. Even the nights there seemed less lonely now.
It didn’t matter anymore how unhappy he’d been in Brookings. That had been his life, and now he felt on the verge of losing it. He was missing it as if it had been lost.
TWENTY-FIVE
MIKE woke alone, after ten. The day outside was overcast and blustery, and there was a note for him on the unmade bed: “Don’t leave. Dad.” Inez’s car was gone. The first thing Mike did was check his jacket to make sure that his father had not taken his truck keys.
In the kitchenette he ate two doughnuts from a package on the counter and was in the bathroom, throwing up, a minute later. Then, not feeling much better, he got into the shower, standing under the hot water until it ran cold. He dressed and walked out to his truck. He was unlocking the door to get aspirin from his glove compartment when he heard a car at the edge of the woods and saw his father get out and run toward him. “Didn’t you see my note?” he shouted at Mike.
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“I just told you I saw it.”
“It said don’t leave, didn’t it?”
Mike got the aspirin from his glove compartment while his father stood under the trees, his face white and tense. “All right,” Glenn said. “I made a mistake. Good.” He shook his head. “Don’t scare me like that again.” He hurried away, stopped to wait for Mike, then sped up again, toward the motel.
“You said we would talk,” Mike said, right behind him. “Just stop and talk to me. Tell me what happened. Then I need to go.”
“Fine,” his father said. “As soon as we eat. Inez wants us to have a real meal together.”
“Why?”
“Who knows?”
And already his father, then Mike, were turning the corner of the motel, with Inez less than ten feet away, unloading plastic grocery sacks from the car. She looked younger in the daylight, and her face was scarred, as if she’d had acne or something worse. “So your dad brought you back,” she said cheerfully to Mike. “Good for him. I like company.”
“Inez thinks this is a vacation,” Glenn said.
“You’d think so, too, if you had my life,” Inez said.
Glenn maneuvered both of them into the stale, gloomy cabin, and within just a few minutes there was the sound of a car out front. It didn’t occur to Mike to be afraid until he saw his father’s reaction. “Inez!” Glenn said. “Go to the window and tell me what you see. Don’t stand too close.”
“You’ve got it,” Inez said. She moved briskly and watched for almost a minute without speaking.
“Come on!” Glenn said.
“A fat red-haired woman with a little dog, in a beat-up station wagon with Indiana plates. She’s checking in.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“Which unit, damn it?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m retarded,” Inez told him. “The one at the other end.”
Glenn looked out the window himself, pulled the curtain closed, and turned toward Mike. “I’m taking a chance, being this close to you. They think I’m dumb enough to be here, and here I am.”
“Leave, then,” Mike said coldly.
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“I hate fighting,” Inez said. “It makes me nervous.”
“Me, too,” Glenn said at once. “I agree with you.” He checked the window again. “I’m under a lot of pressure,” he told Mike. “I’m asking you to understand that.”
“Fine,” Mike said. He sat in the armchair and closed his eyes. He repeated to himself the contents of Tom DeWitt’s letter. Mike knew more about what the police knew than his father knew he did. That was how he would get through this, he thought. He would stay in control by remembering the knowledge he had.
When he opened his eyes, his father was standing with his arms around Inez. She was so small that she made him look bigger than he was.
“See?” Glenn said. “Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Inez said.
“It is. Mike?” he said. “Come tell Inez that everything is okay.”
Inez was breathing rapidly, like a panicked animal. Her small eyes were fixed on Mike’s face.
“Everything is okay,” Mike said. “It’s no big deal. I just got mad for a minute.”
“See?” Glenn said again.
“No,” Inez said.
“Let’s eat lunch,” Glenn said energetically. “How about it? Anybody hungry?”
“Nobody’s hungry,” Inez said.
Mike looked at her restless, angry eyes, and at the tension in his father’s face. He said that he was hungry.
“Good,” Glenn said. “That’s what I thought.” He patted Inez’s arm and filled a pot with water. He put the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. “Simple as could be,” he said. “Over and done with.” When the water boiled he poured it into three bowls.
“You forgot the ramen noodles!” Inez said.
Glenn laughed loudly. “For Pete’s sake,” he said. “I did, didn’t I? What was I thinking?”
“Get out of here,” Inez said in a normal voice. “You men. You don’t belong in a kitchen.”
Mike and his father grabbed their jackets and went outside. Glenn led Mike around to the back of the motel, from where, on a small rise, they could see through the pines to the stirred-up lake. The clouds were low and dark. The temperature was dropping, and the wind was loud. “Do you understand now what I mean about pressure?” Glenn said to Mike. “There’s something wrong with her.”
“What?”
“I have no idea.” He looked at his footprints in the sandy dirt and slid his feet around, erasing them. “I’ll have to leave before too long anyway. She and I have been seen together enough.”
“Leave for where?”
“I don’t know yet. I can’t say.”
Inez’s intense face appeared around the corner of the building. “Lunch,” she said, then disappeared.
“Listen,” Mike said. “I want to talk to you. I want to know what happened. But then I have to go back.”
“Why?”
“I said I would. And I have studying to do.”
“Studying?” Glenn said. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s more than that. What if my roommate tells people I’m missing?”
“Okay, then,” Glenn said. “I see what you mean.” He checked his watch. “Inez will drive you to a pay phone. You’ll call your roommate then.”
“No,” Mike said.
From inside came the sound of Inez knocking loudly on the wall.
“Let’s go,” Glenn said. “We have three minutes before she explodes.” He was already moving, and Mike, too tired to think quickly enough, too slow to keep up with how fast things were happening, followed at a distance.
INSIDE, they were trapped again at the tiny kitchenette table.
“The soup got cold,” Inez said. “While you were out back, telling secrets.”
“What secrets?” Glenn said.
“How would I know? You’re keeping them from me!” She was laughing, though, and Glenn joined in. Then she turned toward Mike, whose stomach was knotted and tight. “I thought you said you were hungry!”
“I am. It’s good.” He made himself eat and shook his head when she asked if he wanted more.
“How about cards after lunch?” Glenn said. “Inez is good at cards.”
“I specialize in hearts,” Inez told Mike.
“Then later on,” Glenn said firmly to Mike, “Inez will drive you to a pay phone so that you can call your roommate. How’s that, Inez?”
“I like to drive,” Inez said.
“You know what we’ll do after that?” Glenn said animatedly. “We’ll open a bottle of wine. I’ll cook the steaks we bought this morning. It’s not safe for us to go anywhere as a group. I’m taking a big enough risk staying here one more night.”
“Listen,” Mike said as politely as he could. “I’ll go back to school right after lunch. I don’t mind. That way, you and Inez can go someplace safer.”
“No,” Glenn said. “Seeing you is worth the risk.”
“That’s more like it,” Inez said. “That’s how families should be.”
TWENTY-SIX
THEY sat on the unmade bed and played hearts. The room was cold, and there had not been more than a minute, since lunch, when Mike and his father had been alone. Inez never sat still. She was like a bird, Mike thought, or like an insect—buzzing from one spot to the next, flinging herself in and out of the bathroom, darting into the kitchenette to light a cigarette at the stove. Mike planned to wait an hour, then tell his father to walk him out to his truck—to talk to him seriously, so that Mike would know exactly what happened. Then Mike would leave.
Meanwhile, a winter storm was moving in. Three inches of snow, they heard on the radio. “Not enough to worry about,” Mike’s father said, each time Mike got up to look at the threatening sky. “We’re lucky. It will keep the police busy.”
“No kidding,” Inez said, exhaling cigarette smoke. “Imagine no indoor toilet,” she told Glenn. “Alton did all the plumbing himself. Can you picture that? As big and crazy as he was?”
“Isn’t that something,” Glenn said.
She put down her cards and shot into the bathroom. Glenn waited until she closed the door. “Alton was a relative of some kind,” he whispered to Mike.
Mike watched the bathroom door. Quietly, he said, “I’m leaving soon. Just so you know. I’m not changing my mind. Whatever you want me to know you can tell me then.”
“What do you mean by soon?” Glenn said.
The door flung open. “What’s happening soon?” Inez asked.
Glenn hesitated. “Snow,” he said then. “I have a feeling. I’m good at predicting things.”
“You think you’re good at everything,” Inez said, and perched on the bed, cross-legged.
They played one more game, then Mike put down his cards. “That’s it for me,” he said.
“Because you lost,” Glenn said. “That’s bad strategy. The time to quit is when you’re ahead.” His eyes were on Inez, who had stood up and was taking small steps from one end of the room to the other.
“I don’t like the end of things,” she said. “I don’t care if it’s a card game or a movie. I like things to keep going.”
“Get back here and play another hand then,” Glenn said with strained lightheartedness. “How about canasta?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t mean that. You don’t get what I mean.”
“Sure we do,” Glenn said.
“We is a lie,” Inez said. “It’s almost always a lie.”
“I know what you mean,” Glenn said. “That’s what I meant to say.”
“You can’t fix it afterward. I don’t know who told you that was fair.”
Glenn looked at Mike nervously. He went up to Inez and put his hand on her rough hair, smoothing it back from her small face.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Inez said. “You have your loved one here.”
“Don’t you think I love you?” Glenn whispered. Mike was too close not to hear.
“Of course not. And wouldn’t I be in trouble if I did!” She seemed to pull herself together then. She went into the bathroom and came back a moment later, wearing red lipstick. She put on her coat and got her keys. “Who has quarters?” she said matter-of-factly.
It took Mike a second to understand. “I don’t need to make a phone call,” he said.
“Sure you do,” Glenn said.
“I’ll go alone then,” Mike said. “I mean, I have to get going anyway.”
“Make the call,” his father said authoritatively. “That way, you can still leave later, if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with showing up early. There’s only something wrong with showing up late.” He took a handful of quarters from his pocket. “Isn’t that right?” he said to Inez, who was standing at the door, glowering at Mike.
“Inez?” Glenn said. “What’s wrong, honey? Mike didn’t mean that he’d rather go alone, did you, Mike? Didn’t it come out different than you meant?”
They were both watching him—Inez with fury and his father with desperation or suspicion, Mike didn’t know which. He felt unsteady and hot, even in the cold room. The situation had gotten beyond him. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t know what I meant.”
“I told you,” Glenn said to Inez. “He’s just confused. We’ve got too much going on here.” He picked up Mike’s jacket and handed it to him. “Inez loves to drive. I don’t know why, but there it is. She wants to take you.”
He put an arm around Mike and walked him outside. “You and I will talk when you get back,” he said very softly. “Then you can leave. I promise. You’re the only person I can tell the truth to.” He steered Mike into the passenger seat of the car. In his regular voice he said, “Don’t go any farther than you have to. And make the conversation short. People suspect something’s wrong when you talk too much.”
“Get in,” Inez told Mike.
Glenn closed Mike’s door and hurried inside. When Mike looked back, the road was empty except for the station wagon at the far end. Mike hadn’t seen either the woman or the dog go in or out.
All right, Mike thought, as Inez started driving. He’d been manipulated into this car ride because he hadn’t been smart enough to avoid it; he hadn’t been smart enough because he was overtired, plus whatever it was that was wrong with his stomach. As things were now, he thought, it was easier just to make the call—to go along with most of what his father wanted—then leave afterward.
Inez lit a cigarette. “Are you okay then with your dad?” she asked. “Children should never be angry at their parents. Your father’s not responsible for what he does.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a man,” Inez said. “He’s no more responsible than you are.”
Snow was beginning to fall. Inez reduced her speed, driving with exaggerated care. Along the road were flat brown fields and fenced pastures. There were few cars on the road besides theirs.
“I was in a terrible accident once,” Inez said. “I almost lost someone I love.”
“Who?”
“Me,” she said. “Inez.”
“Why do you like to drive, then?”
“That’s a good question,” Inez said. “I’m going to give that some thought.”
They drove for fifteen silent minutes before approaching a small town—a boarded-up elementary school and a closed gas station. “Hicksville,” Inez said. Further on was a grain elevator, a diner, and a stretch of modest houses. Inez stopped at a Handy-Mart that had a pay phone out front. She got out with Mike and stood next to him at the phone. “I like fresh air,” she said. “I’m not like your dad, the way he holes himself up.” She opened her purse and took out three dollars’ worth of quarters.
“I have a calling card,” Mike said.
Inez laughed. “And you’re in college!” She pressed the change into his hand. “Go ahead and call. It’s cold out here.”
Mike dialed his phone number and put in the quarters. Nobody answered. When the phone machine came on, he said, “Raymond? It’s Mike. I might not come back tonight. I might come back tomorrow.”
“Right,” Inez whispered. She lit a fresh cig
arette and peered into the store window as Mike hung up the phone. “Is there anything you need?” she asked. “Any personal grooming items?”
“No.”
“Magazines? A Playboy?”
“No, thanks.”
She seemed reluctant to leave.
“Is there something you want?” Mike asked.
“Not really. Not anything they have.”
She stood there a moment longer, her face close to the glass, her breath creating small foggy circles. Then she and Mike got back in the car and she pulled onto the windswept road, the houses and patchy grass alongside it dusted with snow. “Do you like malls?” Inez asked.
“Not much.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Her voice was sad. “I like walking through them. I like the way they smell. I like the way the lights look.” She glanced over at him. She touched his knee with her fingers. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well,” she said. “At least you’re honest. That’s more than I can say for you-know-who.” She turned on the radio and found only static. She turned it off and sang, “ ‘Hello, window. Is that a tear I see in the corner of your pane?’ ”
“Willie Nelson,” Mike said.
“That’s right. Score one for you.”
There was more snow on the road now, and she was sitting forward in the seat, driving intently. When they were close to the turnoff for the motel, she said, “Why didn’t you want to go with me? What’s wrong with my company?”
Mike’s stomach hurt again. “Nothing,” he said. “It just seemed easier that way.”
“Easier for you,” Inez said. “Isn’t that a surprise.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
THE cabin door opened as soon as Mike and Inez got out of the car. “How did it go?” Glenn said. He came toward them in the snow. It was dusk by then; there was a light on in the cabin and one at the far end of the motel.
“Fine,” Inez stated. She slammed the car door and stomped past him.
“Everything went smoothly?” Glenn said, talking fast.
“What did I just say?” Inez said.