Annie shivered and clenched her fists. After her chill subsided, she stepped into the front room and hit the light switch. The roach was nowhere in sight. Focusing on the foot of the stairs, she passed through the room quickly.
Something, it suddenly struck her, wasn’t quite right. The room was too tidy. She stopped and pivoted. The walls were bare. The painting and the silver dollar collection—Annie knew instantly that Nevers had sold them to slake his addiction.
Upstairs, she heard a cooing babble coming from Herald’s bathroom, a burbling version of “Rock of Ages.” Through the nearly closed door, she saw his bare leg on the white tile. The bedroom was dark except for a slash of light cutting across the room. On the bedside table next to a fifth of Old Crow—he had finally reached that point—sat two small, pink horseshoes.
Annie stepped to the nightstand to inspect the objects. She turned one over. They were Herald Nevers’s perfect teeth. She drew her hands to her breasts and closed her eyes. He wore dentures and she never knew it.
Annie’s eyes opened onto the false teeth. They appeared broken. Looking more closely, she noticed two empty molar sockets. Nevers had extracted the gold teeth. A child-like sob came from the bathroom.
Annie knew it was time to turn and face the truth at last.
In the bright cubicle, Nevers sat on the floor in his underwear, one leg straight out, a knee clutched to his chest. Head down, he was staring at an object on the floor.
“Herald,” Annie called tenderly.
The man looked up. Annie was startled at the darkness of his face. Stubble covered his cheeks like a black mask. The room smelled acridly of vomit. Nevers propped himself on thin arms, and his lips worked around a caved-in mouth. He stared at her out of swollen, fiery eyes, then returned his gaze to the floor.
“Tarnished,” he mumbled.
“What?” Annie said. “I couldn’t make out what you said.”
“Tarnished.” He plucked a medallion from the floor and held it up. His arm wavered. Annie took the silver dollar from his trembling fingers. Herald’s lips bubbled out a whimpering cry. “Eighteen ninety-three O. Rarest one. Tarnished.” He shook his head at the floor, then looked up in amazement. “And do you know why? Hm?” He pointed at her accusingly. “You know why? No. You don’t know, do you? Well, I’ll tell you why.” He lost track of his thoughts. “You know why?”
Annie shook her head at the pitiful man.
“Well, I’ll tell you why.” He pounded his fist weakly on the floor once. “I looked at it.” He lifted his eyes. “All I did was look at it. And you know what happened?”
“No,” she said softly. “What happened?”
“Tarnished.” He swung his arm at the whole world. “And you know why? Hmm?”
“No, why?”
“Breaved.” He licked his lips and spoke more carefully. “Breathed on it.” He looked at her with sad anger. “Ain’t that sumpin? Uncircalated and I breaved on it and tarnished it. The most beautiful coin I ever saw.” His eyes welled over with tears. “Most beautiful thing I ever saw.”
“Come on,” Annie said, reaching down for him. “Let me help you to bed.”
His arm looked as if it were being hoisted by a pulley. The dead weight of the man was unmoved.
“Help me,” Annie said. “I can’t get you up by myself.”
Nevers pushed with his other hand on the floor. He got to one knee. His throat made a heaving sound and he turned toward the toilet, then lifted a finger.
“False alarm,” he said. “False alarm.”
Annie escorted him to the bed and returned to the bathroom for a washcloth. Nevers was holding the Old Crow when she reached the bedside. She tried to take the bottle from him. He waved her away.
“Gotta have it,” he said bluntly. “Die if I don’t.”
“Herald.” Annie called as if to someone down a well. “Do you know what’s happened to you?”
He drank from the bottle and replaced it carefully on the nightstand.
“Had some bad luck.”
“No,” she said with firm calm.
“Yes. Had some bad luck. Thought I’d rally, but having a little trouble.”
“It’s not bad luck,” Annie said. “You’re on a bender.”
He shot her an angry look.
“I know that. I know it, _______.” He gazed at her vacantly. “What’s your name?” He made a soundless snapping motion with his fingers. “Annie! You don’t have to tell me that.” He looked at her to make sure. “Right?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Do you know where you are?”
Nevers looked around the room. “Hum.” He rubbed his face with both hands and glanced around for something lost. His eyes lighting on the dentures, he picked them up and worked them into his mouth. Then he tested them. “Home. Home.” He looked at Annie. “Home.”
“I’m here to help you, Herald. Listen to me. You can always start over. Remember? That’s what you told me. No matter how bad things get, you can start a new life.”
Nevers laughed. “You can’t help me.” He glared at her defiantly. “Only God can help me,” he said. “Only God.” He pointed to the bottle. “You know what you’re dealing with? You can’t beat that stuff by yourself.” He looked at her. “I lied to you. I didn’t beat it on my own the first time. I had to ask God to help me.”
“I understand,” Annie said.
Nevers wagged his finger at her. “No. You don’t. Not till you been there.” Nevers looked at the bottle. “But not this time. I don’t want God’s help. I won’t let God help me. I hate God because I need God. Otherwise, it’s All a big Nothing.” Nevers swallowed a belch and held an uplifted finger to Annie. “T. Van Mahorn.” They both looked at the bottle. “T. Van Mahorn, some-nov-a-bitch.”
Annie handed him the facecloth. Nevers wiped his mouth and threw the rag on the nightstand. “You know who I am?”
“You’re someone I love who’s hurting.”
He waved her answer away. “I’m nothing,” he said. “A punk.” He said it as if it were the last thing he would ever need to say. He eased himself back on the bed and lay down, covering his eyes with a forearm. He chuckled. “Only when you become nothing can you become anything.” He lifted his spare arm. “T. Van Mahorn.” The arm fell exhausted onto the bed. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
Annie touched his arm. “You can do it again, Herald.”
“A punk,” Nevers said. “The tragedy of a punk who could have been a hero.” In a motion quick with insight, his arm moved to reveal his eyes. He looked at Annie. “You think I’m a bad man, don’t you?” He shook his head. “No. No one can judge me till they walk in my shoes.”
Nevers replaced the arm over his eyes.
“If there had only been a war in my time. It’s much easier to fight evil when it’s coming at you head on.” He peered at Annie from beneath his arm. “You know that? Much easier than to make a good life on your own. I mean, what do you do? Without a war, you can do anything you want. But it’s hard. No focus.” He rested his arm over his eyes again. For a long while, he didn’t move. Annie thought he had fallen into an alcoholic sleep. “Punk!” he blurted.
“Herald.” Annie touched his arm. “Let me help you. I can get you a doctor. We can take you to a hospital and help you dry out.”
The words stirred his wrath. Nevers hated himself for his weakness, hated Annie for her kindness. He sat up, flinging imaginary sheets from his legs.
“Don’t you understand?” he spat. He pointed at her. “Don’t you understand who I am? I make nice girls into hookers. That’s my job. Bliss, Nausica, Angelica. I gave them their names. I made them what they are.” Nevers wiped his mouth with a phantom sleeve. “Whores. You, too, Annie. Annie Beatrice. Hah! You’re nothing but a spittoon for my pecker snot.”
Annie struck him on the chest with a fist.
“No!” she said. He fell to the bed like a loosely stuffed scarecrow. Annie hit him repeatedly. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true. We had so
mething more than that.” Nevers defended himself against the onslaught.
When she tired of striking him, he said in a voice that sounded utterly sober, “Go away. Leave me alone. Go!”
Annie fled the room sobbing.
And went straight to Burk. He nodded as she described the scene. She said they had to get Herald to a hospital.
“Fine,” he said angrily. “But that’s only half of it. You’ve got to kill him off in your head before he brings you down. The way he treats you won’t change just because he climbs back on the wagon. He’ll drag you through the muck just like he did Nessie. I know. I saw it. I was there.”
Annie knew he was right.
“I love him,” she said as if stating a fact that would end all arguments about this or any other topic.
“You do understand, don’t you?” Burk said. “You’re addicted to him just like he’s hooked on the booze.”
“I know it,” she said with resignation.
“I can get you through this if you’ll let me, Annie. But I’ll have to show you some things you won’t like.” Burk looked out the window of his hotel room. “But if you can live through it, you’ll come out in the clear.” His look asked her if she had the strength for it.
“I’ll try,” Annie said weakly.
* * *
The next day, Burk had a doctor friend take Nevers to the hospital. Annie and Burk watched from down the street. Nevers went screaming and kicking as two black orderlies manhandled him down the steps into a waiting car.
“It won’t work,” he yelled. “I’ll go back to my booze like a dog to its vomit. T. Van Mahorn son-of-a-bitch!”
When the car disappeared, they entered the house. Burk stepped into the bedroom ahead of Annie. He scanned all around the room with a pointing finger.
“Notice anything unusual?”
“No. Looks the same to me.”
Burk walked to the door and looked down the hall. “Come here.” He waved her to the threshold. “You know what’s in this next room?”
Annie shook her head.
“You won’t like it,” Burk said. He slapped the wall button of the bedroom, sending it into darkness. He grabbed the locked knob and jerked the door hard toward its hinges, away from the jamb where the bolt was lodged in the strike plate. The house shuddered. The second time he pulled, the door popped open. He extended his hand, indicating that Annie should enter first.
In the darkened room, she noticed four barstools situated under a countertop jutting from the left wall. To her right was a crisply made bed. Beside it, on a small wet bar, were liquor bottles and downturned glasses on a clean white towel.
“Sit down,” Burk said. Annie approached the near chair, checking the floor for roaches. She looked back at Burk. “Sit on the stool and don’t move.”
Annie put her foot on the lowest rung and hoisted herself onto the tall perch. The toe of her shoe hit a heavy canister with a brassy sound. In front of her was an ashtray full of butts. She pushed it aside with the back of her hand.
Burk’s voice called to Annie. “Ready!?”
“For what?”
Burk turned on the bathroom light in the next room. Herald’s bedroom became visible on the wall in front of her. Annie reached out like a person in darkness, unsure of where the wall began. Her fingers collided with the cold, smooth surface. She saw Burk’s figure in the bathroom doorway. In a few moments, he was standing beside her.
It finally hit home. Annie was on the other side of a large mirror. Against her will and without her knowledge, she had been made into a kind of prostitute. Men had paid to watch her make love with Herald Nevers, men sitting in the very chair she was in.
She folded her arms on the bar and rested her forehead on the wood. Her lips were trembling like those of a small child about to cry. The muscles in her legs and arms quivered weakly.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” she said.
With his foot, Burk scooted a spittoon into view. Annie leaned over and retched into the receptacle. Beneath the counter, she saw three more of the brass cuspidors. As soon as their purpose became clear, Annie refused the image. She would not allow it to develop and stay in her mind. After she had recovered and washed her face, Annie questioned Burk.
“Have you, Arkie? Have you ever watched him with a woman?”
Burk turned his head down. “Yes,” he said.
Annie didn’t want to ask him the next question, but she needed to know the answer.
“Me?” She looked away from him.
He said nothing.
“Me? Tell me.” She glared directly at him.
“I didn’t think I would ever know you like this. At the time, you were just another—. Believe me, Annie, I would never have done it if I knew I was . . .”
“What? Knew you were what?”
“Going to fall in love with you.”
* * *
That night, for the first time in her life, Annie drank herself unconscious.
The next day, she called Nausica.
“Yes,” Nausica admitted. “I’ve been on the bedroom side of that mirror when I didn’t know about it. And then later, when I did know.”
“For God’s sake, Nessie, why?”
Her voice was flat and controlled. “It pays better when you know. You can exaggerate, and the men on the other side don’t know you’re aware of them. That’s the turn-on for them, seeing an innocent young girl in an act of passion.
“Explain it to me, Nessie. I’m trying to understand.”
Nausica did the best she could.
“It’s men,” she concluded. “They like to watch.”
Annie drank herself to sleep that afternoon.
When she roused in the early evening, she was in the back seat of Arkie Burk’s car. She sat up and looked over the seat. They were driving into the dying sun.
Chapter 15
April 1939–January 1940
“You’re addicted to him, that’s why! I had to tear you from him just like we forced him from his drink. Now, get in the front seat so we can talk like two human beings.”
Annie remained in the back. She glared at the passing scenery. A hawk on top of a telephone pole searched the ground for its next prey. Billboards advertised Burma shave, Chesterfield, Hiram Walker gin, Chevrolet.
“Morgan City 8 miles,” one sign informed her.
“God Forgives,” a painted board said.
There would be railroad crossings, Annie thought. Ferries. Drawbridges. When the car stopped, she would run.
Burk intercepted her thoughts.
“You try to run at a crossing and I’ll chase you down and tie you in the back.” He looked in the rearview mirror. “Hear?” They drove in silence for a while. “Annie?”
“Toni Jo! My name is Toni Jo Henry. Don’t ever call me Annie again. You got that?”
“Good deal.” Arkie smiled, knowing she had taken the first step towards healing herself.
Three miles later, Burk slowed for a swing bridge. Two cars were already idling behind the yellow line.
Burk adjusted the mirror for a better view of Toni Jo.
“Gonna look funny, a pretty girl in the back seat of my car.”
Her arms crossed, she had slid against the door at the far side of Burk. When their eyes met, she scowled and looked out the window. The car began braking.
“Turn your head,” Toni Jo commanded. Her dress rustled as she clambered over the seat and landed in disarray. The car stopped. Burk turned the key off and lifted the clutch. He stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Toni Jo put her hand on the door handle.
When the crossbuck lifted five minutes later, she had still not spoken. Burk started the car and eased ahead.
“It was the only way, Annie—Toni Jo. You understand that, don’t you? Toni Jo?”
“You can’t watch me forever. The first chance I get, I’ll head for New Orleans.”
“And I’ll come get you and bring you back. I won’t let him do
this to you.”
“He’s sick,” she said defensively.
“Sicker than you think. It goes deeper than booze.”
Toni Jo touched her lips. They were shriveled with dryness. Instinctively, she reached beside her.
“My purse.”
“In the trunk,” Burk said. “I threw what I could into a couple of suitcases. That’s enough for anything you’ll be doing in Lake Charles. It ain’t New Orleans.”
Toni Jo wrenched the mirror towards her and peered into it.
“God,” she said, touching her hair. Her eyeliner had spread into two black eyes. She punched the button on the glove compartment. It slapped down, and she riffled through some papers searching for a Kleenex. Thrusting her fingers to the back, she felt the cool heft of a pistol barrel. She glanced at Burk.
“Here,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. She began to work on her face.
“Did you even check on him?”
“Yes,” Burk said. “He’ll be sick for a few days.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
* * *
Burk and Toni Jo sat on a blanket at the beach, puffs of cotton-candy clouds painted childlike on a too-blue sky. Three small sailboats scudded across Lake Charles. The only impressive object on the skyline was the Jean Lafitte bridge spanning the Calcasieu River.
“When you find yourself missing him, think about what he did to you. I don’t want to be mean, Toni Jo, but the guy was a creep.”
“You ran around with him,” she returned.
“For kicks. But he was dangerous, and I knew it. I didn’t plan to set up housekeeping with him.”
On their outings, Burk and Toni Jo waded at the beach. They talked about Nevers, who he was and wasn’t, what he did and why, how she could have been attracted to him and when she’d get over him.
“He’s still here.” She hit her chest lightly with a loose fist. “I have dreams about him, nightmares. And when I wake up, I feel sick because I’m dead-certain I’d go with him if he suddenly reappeared.”
A Savage Wisdom Page 18