But they both knew this wasn’t true.
Look, I really need your help. He took out his wallet and started counting out twenties. You just tell me when to stop.
She watched him. She put her hand on his. That’ll do, she said, and took his money.
The waitress came over with the check. You folks need anything else?
No, ma’am. Thank you.
I’m going to use the restroom, the girl said.
I’ll be right outside. Take your time.
He paid the check and laid a tip on the table, then went out to the truck. It was cold, and flurries twirled down like confetti. He started the engine and sat there waiting. He was starting to think she’d given him the slip when he saw her coming out.
Sorry, she said, climbing into the truck. She smelled like roses. She held her hand up to his nose. Nice, right. They have a very clean bathroom.
Glad to hear it.
Thank you for the meal.
No problem at all.
You want one? Her palm was full of wrapped candy suckers.
No, thank you.
She unwrapped one and put it in her mouth. I’m sick, she said. I’ve got to get back to my room.
I’ll take you there.
She directed him through the city. They turned down Ontario Street. She pointed to a large yellow house with a front porch. I used to live there with my little boy.
That’s a big old elephant, isn’t it?
It was nice, she said. It’s all apartments. We were on the top floor.
Why’d you move out?
Money, she said.
I didn’t know you had a son.
Not anymore. She opened her window a little and put her face up to the wind. It sure is cold out. The snow makes everything pretty.
Yes, it sure does.
They drove in silence, and he told her he’d seen Theo getting into a white van.
Cyrus, she said. We work for him. He’s the one made me go to that party over at the university. I didn’t want to. But he said it was good for business. He said he’d hurt me if I didn’t.
Has he hurt you before?
She nodded her head quickly, like whatever he’d done was too awful to say out loud.
Is he a veteran? I saw a sticker on his van.
She shook his head. He bought that van used. That was somebody else. He said when the cops see it, they don’t bother him.
Is that so.
He said he could track me to the ends of the earth if he wanted to.
Do you believe that?
She nodded. He’s a bad person. But I can’t seem to get away from him.
He knows how to keep you close.
Uh-huh. I know it.
Maybe one day you’ll just walk away.
She glanced over at him.
One day, he said. When you’re ready.
They were downtown near the river. You could see the factories in the distance, the large blue-and-white oil drums, and the long freight trains waiting on the tracks.
Sometimes I feel so small, she said. I’m just a speck of dirt.
That’s not the girl I see, he told her.
She showed him where to turn, and they entered a desolate parking lot alongside the river. It was an old carnival site, a mile of pocked asphalt. The rides were rusted and broken. Like some garish art installation, he thought. You could see the sun glinting off the Ferris wheel, the metal seats rocking in the wind. She showed him where to park, and they got out.
Lock your truck, she said.
He followed her. They came to an old footbridge. There was a rope blocking its entrance and a sign swinging in the wind: NATURE PRESERVE CLOSED.
Come on, she said. It’s just over this bridge.
Sure is high, he said. He leaned over the railing and looked down into the water. The water was black. He had the sudden memory of crossing a bridge as a boy, holding his father’s hand. That sense of displacement he’d felt when he saw the rushing water beneath his feet.
At the end of it they stepped onto the land, an island of wilderness. I like it here, under the trees, she said. It’s where I belong.
They started down a trail. She pointed out the signs to the nature preserve, but it appeared to be nothing more than trails through the woods. As they walked, you could hear the ancient trees bending, the cries of the crows. And you could hear the river.
That sound, she said. It’s like the inside of a dream.
They came to a high chain-link fence scrambled in vines of twisted overgrowth. NO TRESPASSING signs stuck in the snow like markers at an accident site. Someone had cut an opening in the fence. They stepped through it, and there it was, the ruined fortress.
What is this place?
Used to be a hotel back in the day. Like a fancy resort. It’s been closed since the seventies. There’s other people here like me. Sleepwalkers, she said. Shadow people. Tweakers.
What about Theo?
He’ll be here, she said with confidence. Later, when it gets dark.
She took his hand and looked at him with a sort of hope and pushed aside the bramble, and they stepped into what was once the lobby of this grand hotel. Under the dirt and scattered trash were the original marble tiles, and the reception desk was mahogany with a thick marble top. A grand oil painting hung over the fireplace—it might have been a Thomas Cole—and there were a couple chairs that had been slashed with a knife, the stuffing spilling out.
Up here, she said.
The stairs were mahogany too, with a red runner that continued down the long hallway lined with doors. True had claimed a room, with a bare mattress on the wood floor in the middle of it. In here, she said. Only there’s no toilet, so.
So, I go outside if nature calls.
Yes, sir.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, motes of dust. You could see the scars of time on the old plaster walls. He took out his camera and started shooting: the broken windows, the stained mattress, an altar of sorts she’d made out of cardboard for her little boy with flowers and rainbows drawn on it. There were a few pictures of the child, a three-year-old in a Rangers T-shirt. That’s my son, she said. Bodie.
What happened to him?
She sat there, staring into her hands.
Was he sick?
She shook her head. Somebody—
Somebody what?
T-T-Took him, she stuttered.
Took him?
She nodded.
You mean, like, stole him?
She dropped her head. I need to—
Go ahead. Do what you need to do.
I’m an—
I know what you are, he said softly.
She had a fresh syringe from the needle exchange. She said she didn’t want to fix in front of him. She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
He waited. He felt somehow at a loss.
She came out and shuffled toward the mattress, her face like a blur.
Let me just lie down here a minute, she said.
Go ahead.
She dropped down to her knees. Somebody…took…took him, she mumbled, falling into darkness, her waiting grave.
Theo
He woke sick in a bus shelter. He was alone.
It was very dark, and he was scared. He was cold. He was shaking.
He was near the end. He knew it.
He didn’t want to, but he knew he would.
He had lost himself, his soul. It had climbed out of him when he was sleeping and now he was soulless.
He pulled himself to his feet and started walking. He could feel the wake of passing cars, the road trembling beneath his feet. The streetlights with their bright, round faces. He walked for a long time.
Carmine’s mother answered the door. She was wearing black. She had a cold look on her face, and she didn’t invite him in. There were other people inside, some speaking Italian, and he thought he heard someone crying.
Is Carmine—
No, he’s not here, Theo, she said.
/>
He couldn’t look at her.
We found him this morning. He’s gone.
Gone?
Dead.
His head started to pound. I’m—
Please, she said. Don’t come here no more.
Theo shook his head; he couldn’t seem to breathe. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Carmine’s father appeared behind her. Go home, Theo, he said. Go home and get some help.
He closed the door and turned off the light.
Theo stood there in the dark. He could hear the dogs on the street, barking like crazy, and it was the sound of his own anguish, and he started walking, and they kept on barking and didn’t stop even when he got to the end of the long street and turned onto the main road.
Rye
He waited there in the girl’s room for Theo to show up and finally fell asleep. When he woke on the wood floor, it was just getting light. His back hurt and he was very stiff. He felt tired, intensely drained. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place.
He thought distantly of Magda, her breath on his neck.
A little desperately he felt his hunger for her.
Outside, the sky was white. He glanced at his watch. It was almost seven.
He looked over at the mattress. She was sleeping, curled up on her side, and in that moment he could see the child in her. He found his camera, a little amazed no one had stolen it, and rolled onto his knees like a man praying and got to his feet. He framed his shot and took the picture. She didn’t move.
He looped his camera around his shoulder. He had to piss. He staggered out into the hall and down the stairs. He passed the open door of another room, a man asleep on the floor, the torn shade banging, banging.
He stepped outside and relieved himself under the wild trees. The cold air revived him. He could hear a passing train and tried to orient himself. He made his way around the outside of the place, stepping into the footsteps of strangers. He didn’t see anyone.
Once, as a boy, he’d stayed in a hotel like this. It was winter vacation. His parents had taken him to the Catskills. He remembered the food: iceberg lettuce served in fancy iced bowls, herring, jellied pike, shrimp cocktail, consommé. For dessert, Baked Alaska and Cherries jubilee, seven-layer cake. Food nobody served now. There was skiing and sledding and skating, great, crackling bonfires, sing-alongs. They dressed for dinner; he wore his bar mitzvah suit. He sat at the table, watching his parents dance to the orchestra. After dinner, they saw a show—it was Carousel, he recalled—in the small, rustic theater. It was a place just like this, an iconic resort now in ruins. He knew there were others. When you traveled in Europe and Greece and the Middle East, you saw ruins of stone castles, churches. These were American ruins. They represented a way of life that had lost its relevance.
He wandered the rooms of the first floor. He’d never seen such extravagant decay, walls swarming with graffiti, hallways obstructed with trash. Sleeping drifters curled up in the corners. It was like the set of a horror movie, he thought. Only this was real.
He came to a large solarium with an empty pool, its cement bottom covered in more graffiti. Declarations of war and freedom, solidarity built on scandal, propaganda. There were few original thoughts left, he realized.
Across the empty pool he saw a boy sitting alone, hunched over on a metal folding chair. Watching him, he felt a kind of hopelessness. It slowly occurred to him that it was Theo.
Hearing his approach, the boy stirred and sat up. You’ve been following me, he said. He gave him a questioning frown. What do you want?
Nothing. True is a friend.
She doesn’t have any friends.
Theo took out his bag of tobacco and rolled a cigarette and licked its edge, then put it between his lips and lit it. He surveyed Rye from top to bottom. You’re still here, he said.
Yup.
You got any heroin?
He shook his head.
Didn’t think so. You do her?
True? No.
Everybody does, he said. Eventually. She gives in easy.
She’s a good person, Rye said, and he believed she was.
Theo snorted. Yeah, she is. She’s also a fucking dope fiend. Sit down, man, you’re making me nervous. I thought you were a cop.
Nope. Not a cop. Rye looked around for another folding chair and pulled one over and sat down.
Then what are you doing here, man?
Do you really want to know?
Theo stared at him uneasily.
Rye met his eyes. Looking for you, he said.
What? He’d heard him.
That’s right.
What for?
Because you’re important to me.
Oh, man—
Theo started to stand.
I don’t mean you any harm, Rye calmly explained. My name is Rye Adler. I’m your father.
Theo stared at him. He sat back down. He blinked.
For a very brief period of time I was in love with your mother. And you were a product of that love. I didn’t know about you. I was already far away from her. I was out of the country, watching a beautiful place be destroyed. Just like I’m watching you now. Watching you destroy yourself.
The boy gave him a cold look.
I didn’t know about her. I didn’t know she was carrying you. We’d had something powerful together, and it was great, but we were young and had things to do. We went our separate ways. And I can’t say, even if I did know about you, that I would have changed anything. That’s the honest truth. Money, maybe. I would have sent her money. It wasn’t fair to her. And I regret that. I regret it deeply. But sometimes you can make a mistake and it has an effect on others, and you don’t realize it at the time because you’re too absorbed in your own life, your own troubles, and your own victories, those too. Those are even more dangerous.
What do you mean?
Success can be isolating. People tend to back away. They think you’re too good for them. So they leave you alone.
The boy looked at him without judgment.
This, he said. This life here. Is it what you want?
Yeah, Theo said. It’s what I want.
Okay.
Okay what?
Rye shook his head like he didn’t care. I didn’t come here to tell you how to live your life.
Oh. Well, that’s a relief. He took a final drag, then dropped the cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his sneaker. I get it. I see what’s going on here. It’s her, right? Magda.
Rye waited.
She sent you in here.
What if she did?
Theo shrugged. I don’t know. She told me about you. You’re the photographer.
That’s right.
And you came all this way to take my picture. Well. Isn’t that something? Go ahead. Go on and take it.
Not interested.
No?
Not like this.
Why not? This is the real me. It’s what you want, isn’t it? The truth? That’s what you’re after, according to my mother. The truth will set you free and all that bullshit.
She’s right, it will. I’ve come to that conclusion.
Go ahead and take it. I want you to.
They looked at each other. Rye took off his lens cap and held up the camera. Smile, he said.
And Theo did. An unexpected and genuine smile.
Thanks, Rye said.
Feel better?
Yes, actually, I do. It’s good to have a picture of my son.
Theo shook his head. Who are you, man?
Good question. I’ve been trying to figure that out. It occurred to me over these past few days that I’ve been sort of hiding in my life, you know. For, like, a really long time. And years have passed. But you can’t do that out here, can you? You can’t hide.
Theo thought for a minute. No, I guess you can’t.
I realized that nobody really knows me. My wife—
What about my mother?
Rye looked down at his own hands. He closed his eyes. I
’m not sure.
Do you still love her?
Very much, he said.
They sat there a minute without talking. The windows went bright with the winter sun.
Look, give me your hand.
What for?
I just want to hold it, I guess. Is that okay?
Theo looked at him with suspicion and seemed to decide it was all right. He offered his hand. It wasn’t really a boy’s hand. It was cold and rough and dirty.
You’re cold.
Always. He looked Rye right in the eye. Didn’t she tell you? I’m already dead. This is just a dream. You can wake up and leave anytime you want.
Why are you so scared?
The boy pulled his hand away as if he’d touched a flame. I’m not.
Oh, you’re pretty fucking terrified.
Theo stared at him, his eyes raw, determined. What the fuck do you care?
Rye said nothing.
You think you can just come in here, just step into this shit?
That’s right, Rye said. That’s exactly what I think.
You’re wasting your time.
Good to know.
I know what you want, and you’re not getting it.
Tell me what I want.
Theo stared at his hands. I can’t be that. I can’t be that person. Not for you.
Okay, Rye said gently.
You don’t deserve me.
No, I don’t. You’re right. But it’s not a good reason not to stop.
What do you think, I’m stupid?
No, I know you’re not.
I tried to stop. A couple times. I couldn’t take it. There’s this voice in your head, see. It drives you fucking crazy. It’s like you’re not even in control.
That sounds really hard.
Yeah. It is.
But there are worse things. Tell me this. I’m just trying to understand. Did something bad happen to you?
What?
Were you, like, abused or something? Or bullied? Something with a girlfriend? Did you, like, fail a class?
Theo shook his head. Nope.
What about your mother—did she hurt you somehow?
No. Never.
What about Julian?
You mean my stand-in dad?
I mean your father. Is he a good father?
Better than you.
Rye nodded. All right. Good. I feel like we’re getting somewhere.
The Vanishing Point Page 21