Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi

by Nanci Kincaid

They had planned to leave early the next morning for the long drive down to San Diego. But none of them could really sleep, so by four a.m. they were up and loading the car. Well before sunup Truely eased the loaded Escalade out of the underground garage. He was just about to pull out into the street when Arnold shouted, “Wait, man. I forgot something. I got to go back inside.”

  “Whatever it is, you don’t need it.” Truely sounded oddly like his own daddy, who used to hate to stop the car for any reason once he embarked on a trip of any minor description.

  “Be right back.” Arnold leaped from the car, leaving the door hanging open. “Wait right here.” He bounded down to the garage elevator before they could stop him.

  “What in the world?” Courtney said.

  Minutes later Arnold returned, carrying his backpack, waving some audiobook CDs in his hand. “Don’t want to go nowhere without Malcolm and them,” he said sarcastically. “Courtney got me where I can’t get to sleep without some time listening to one these fool CDs. She got me addicted or something.” He slung the backpack on the floor of the backseat and climbed in. “Okay, man, we can hit the road now.”

  TRUELY’S PLAN was to take Highway 101 and then cut across to Fresno and pick up Highway 5. It would be a desolate trip through miles of agricultural terrain. Ordinarily Truely loved this drive, loved seeing the manicured farms, the crops, the migrant workers bent over in the fields, the gleaming machinery moving at caterpillar speed. The cotton, corn and soybean fields reminded him of the Mississippi fields from his childhood. He had grown up still seeing cotton picked by hand on the smaller farms — like the one where his daddy had been raised. More than once his daddy had taken Truely to the cotton fields to show him the right way to pick a boll. His daddy had been proud of his family’s failed efforts to farm cotton. He always spoke of their moving off the farm with great regret and heartache. So whenever Truely drove to Fresno he thought of these moments with his daddy and took comfort in the memories.

  But this night they traveled in darkness, balancing Styrofoam cups of bitter Circle K coffee. There was little to see except the intrusive headlights of the occasional passing car. Courtney rode shotgun, trying to manage the music — much of which she disapproved of. “Lord, True, where is your country music?” she asked. “What? No Alan Jackson CDs? No Vince Gill? No Garth Brooks? I could have sworn you were once a Mississippi boy.”

  “Maybe I’ve evolved — musically speaking,” he said.

  “Or not.”

  ARNOLD QUICKLY GAVE UP on them entirely in terms of musical possibilities and sprawled across the backseat plugged into his iPod, drinking his sugar/milk/splash-of-coffee concoction — not that he needed the caffeine since he was clearly too wound up to sleep.

  They eventually stopped outside Fresno at an overlit Denny’s for breakfast. It was Arnold’s choice. It seemed he was a big fan of Denny’s all-you-can-eat breakfast. The sun was coming up. Truely called and left a message to have his secretary make hotel reservations for Courtney and himself in San Diego. Courtney called Myra to explain her change in plans. No surgery after all. Arnold called Vonnie to say he would be coming home to San Diego — then walked outside the restaurant, paced up and down the sidewalk and whispered urgently into the phone.

  Hours later they stopped again, outside LA, for gas and the stretching of legs. There was discussion of lunch — but no one was hungry. The nearer they got to their destination the more they lost their appetites. Truely pretended to need to make some business calls and wandered a good distance away from the others, totally out of earshot. Instead he called the San Diego attorney he had hired and tried to get an official handle on Arnold’s police history. He was transferred to the law clerk who had researched Carter, Arnold O.

  “The kid is no angel,” the clerk said. “Earliest run-ins with the law when he was nine years old, running drugs for his mother’s homegrown operation. Neighbors called the cops on him. He was brought in as a delinquent, let’s see, six times. Reported to social services each time. No action taken — according to what I got here. Got a good bit of truancy reported too. Schools reported him truant — how many — eight separate times. A couple of runaways noted here. His grandmother reported him missing, let’s see, four times. First serious legal trouble involved an older kid — name Gordon Gerald Mackey Jr., possession of narcotics with intent to sell. Charges dropped against Mackey. Then, let’s see, eight months later, the Mackey’s Construction theft.”

  So far none of this was much of a surprise to Truely. Arnold had alluded to it, even if he had been nonspecific.

  “I spoke with Ms. Carter,” the clerk said. “According to her, the aforementioned Gordon Mackey worked for her on the side. She set him up with weed or cocaine from her dealer — just a local neighborhood thug — and he sold it for her at local clubs, parking lots, places he knew there were plenty of upscale kids with money. Translation: white kids. On one occasion Mackey got in the wrong situation in the wrong neighborhood — got robbed of around eighteen hundred dollars in drug money. She claimed she came down hard on him. She had to have the money he owed her because her dealer had to have the money she owed him. People get shot for a lot less than eighteen hundred dollars, she said she told him. That same night he drove Arnold Carter out to Mackey’s Construction Company and gave him the key to the main office — sent him in to take eighteen hundred dollars out of petty cash, which he did. Not four thousand — which was how much was available — but just the eighteen hundred Gordon Mackey needed. The kid was recorded entering the building on surveillance video. They got him going into the petty cash drawer too. I think you got a copy of that, right?

  “Anyway, according to Ms. Carter, this Gordon Mackey had parked his car down the street from Mackey’s Construction, out of surveillance camera range. There was no way to prove his involvement. He denied being involved. When Ms. Carter got wind of this she threatened to testify that Gordon Mackey was working for her — dealing drugs. She threatened to spill the beans about his having that eighteen hundred dollars ripped off. According to her, Gordon Mackey’s father — Mr. Gerald Mackey — paid her off. Ten thousand dollars for her not to testify against the guy. Gordon Mackey goes free. Arnold Carter served eleven months in juvenile detention for the robbery. Lots of bad blood between the families since then, according to Ms. Carter. And, let’s see here, yes, that looks like pretty much the bulk of it.”

  Truely thanked the clerk and went back to meet Courtney and Arnold, who were waiting for him in the car. “You talking to somebody about the Truely-Chair?” Arnold asked.

  “Something like that,” Truely said.

  At one point while they were en route, Arnold tried to call Gordo, but the cell phone Gordo had used earlier had been returned to its rightful owner, who claimed not to know anybody named Gordo.

  “I GUESS we’ll finally get to meet Vonnie,” Courtney said.

  “I guess,” Arnold said. “You probably like her. She do all right in school. She sort of bookish.”

  “I like her already,” Courtney said.

  “Just because she the school type now don’t mean you can mess with Vonnie. Don’t nobody mess with Vonnie.”

  “Last thing on my mind,” Courtney said.

  “How about your grandmother?” Truely asked.

  “You meet Vonnie, you most likely meet my grandmama. That’s the way it usually work.”

  WHEN THEY FINALLY PULLED into the San Diego city limits they were all weary and worried about the events that lay in wait. Truely decided to go to the hotel first — check in, freshen up, call Suleeta again to let her know they had arrived — and get directions to the VA Hospital. Truely was nervous talking to Suleeta. He thought she sounded distant and slightly afraid — but maybe that was his imagination. Maybe he was the one slightly afraid.

  They got oceanfront rooms on the twenty-second floor at the Hyatt. Truely noticed that once they had checked in Arnold got his suitcase out of the car same as they did and took it up and parked it in the middl
e of Truely’s room — which was not something they had discussed. Truely had wrongly assumed that Arnold might want to stay with his sister and grandmother, consequently he had ended up with a room with one king-sized bed. “Call down there and tell them we need two beds up here,” Arnold instructed. He appeared annoyed that Truely had not thought of this on his own. Truely called down and got reassigned to a room with two double beds — a room that adjoined Courtney’s room. Arnold seemed relieved.

  Courtney went to her room to shower and rest. She insisted on keeping the doors between her room and theirs wide open like she was their mother and they were a couple of kids in need of supervision. Arnold turned on the hotel room TV and was sitting on his bed changing channels at an annoying clip. It filled the room with a false sense of activity.

  Truely felt obliged to call Shauna. Luckily for him she didn’t answer and he was able to leave her a message without triggering an argument. Afterward he called downstairs to the hotel concierge to request a printout of directions to the VA Hospital.

  Arnold showered and dressed in clean clothes — some his own, and some Truely’s. Truely took time to shave. He was last to be ready. The three of them loaded into the Escalade again, travel weary, refreshed only slightly and full of apprehension. “You navigate.” Truely handed Courtney the printed directions. She glanced at them and then handed them off to Arnold. “This is your town,” she said. “You navigate.” So Arnold moved into the front passenger seat to direct Truely — and Courtney got in the backseat and silently stared out the window. Truely looked over at Arnold and noticed beads of sweat had popped out on his forehead.

  “Pull out and go right,” Arnold instructed, robot-style.

  The VA Hospital was a massive structure. The rehab facility was more obscure, relatively nondescript from the outside. It looked more like a corporate structure than part of a hospital. Maybe that was good. A small sign declared subtly: U.S. MILITARY. The parking lot was nearly full. It took them several orbits before they found a vacant spot.

  As they entered the lobby Courtney broke the silence. “I’ll stay in the waiting room with Suleeta,” she said. “I don’t know Gordo. No reason he’d want to meet me now.”

  At the information desk they got directions to Gordo’s room — fifth floor, east wing. They rode up the elevator in perfect silence. When the elevator doors opened the first person they saw was Pablo. He looked totally confused, as if he didn’t quite recognize them.

  “Pablo.” Truely put out his hand. “Truely Noonan.” His name seemed to echo and bring Pablo reluctantly into the moment.

  “Hey,” he said passively.

  “You remember Arnold Carter? And this is my sister, Courtney. We just drove down from the Bay Area. I left a message on Shauna’s phone letting her know we were coming. I hope she got it.”

  “I don’t know,” Pablo said. “They’re all down the hall in the waiting room. We’ve been here most of the day. Gordo is not transitioning well. I was just going for some coffee for the others.”

  Transitioning well? The phrase struck Truely. It was such medispeak, psychobabble. What would be the definition of transitioning well? And why would anybody expect that Gordo might transition well? It sounded oddly like Gordo had failed some sort of test.

  “Do you want to go tell them we’re here?” Truely asked. “Or should we just go ahead down there? I hate to surprise them if they’re not expecting us.”

  Pablo seemed to consider the question. “Probably best if I give them a heads-up. Wait here. I’ll come back for you.” He turned and walked a short distance then turned down a hallway and disappeared.

  “That was awkward.” Courtney spoke the obvious. Truely knew she wasn’t accustomed to feeling that her presence wasn’t welcome.

  Arnold had sweat underarm circles on his clean shirt — actually, on Truely’s clean shirt. He had not spoken a single word since they had entered the building. Minutes passed before Pablo came back with Shauna. She looked exhausted and noticeably thinner than when Truely had last seen her. She had cut her hair and it had gone slightly wavy on her. Truely thought it softened her. She looked fragile, the dark circles under her eyes pronounced. Her face was bare and drawn.

  “I never could talk sense to you, True, could I? You always won every argument, didn’t you?”

  Truely wasn’t sure how to respond. Honest to God, he couldn’t remember any argument they had ever had. That was partly what he had liked — that they’d never argued. They got along. Had he been wrong about that?

  “Hey, Courtney,” Shauna said coolly. “So, you came too?”

  “I’m really sorry for all you’ve been through,” Courtney said.

  “How’s Gordo doing?” Arnold spoke up.

  “Not good,” Shauna said.

  “You gon let me see him?” Arnold asked.

  “We can’t stop you,” Shauna said bitterly. “I wish we could. But this is a free country — or so I’ve been told. Gordo can see who he wants to see.”

  “Can I see him now?” Arnold asked.

  “Jerry is with him,” Pablo explained. “When Jerry comes out we’re taking him to get some supper.”

  “I hope you can all be gone by the time we get back,” Shauna said.

  “Sure,” Truely agreed.

  Shauna looked them over with a glassy-eyed indifference. Was she just too tired for a fight? He could sense her seething anger. She seemed to aim it primarily at Arnold. “Look, Arnold,” she said, “maybe I can’t keep you from seeing Gordo. But I hope you have sense enough to stay away from me.” Arnold didn’t respond. Shauna turned to Truely then. “You’re making a big mistake, True,” she said. “But mistakes always were your strong suit.” She turned and walked away.

  Pablo followed. He looked at Truely apologetically, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “As soon as we get Jerry out of here, you can go back,” he said.

  Minutes later Pablo and Shauna escorted Jerry to the elevator. Jerry was barely recognizable, unshaven, with the same distant stare that Shauna had had earlier. It seemed to Truely that Jerry had aged significantly. He seemed to look right at the three of them and not see them. Truely didn’t think Jerry was being rude nor driving home the message that they were not welcome. He didn’t even think Jerry was angry in any overt sense. He simply seemed unable to recognize or acknowledge the people around him. When the elevator finally swallowed them relief set in.

  “Okay. Here goes.” Arnold led them down the hall toward room 515.

  SULEETA WAS STANDING in the doorway of the waiting room. Her response was welcoming. “Arnold, niño.” She put her arm around him. “You’re here. Gordo will be glad.” Then she embraced Courtney and Truely. “Hola, hola.”

  “How is he?” Truely asked.

  “Gordo suffers. Besides his legs he has a head wound. You’ll see. And they give him too much medicines — so he is not right. He is not Gordo. He don’t want to see nobody — not his family, not his friends. He’s not ready. You the one he wants.” She looked at Arnold. “He ask for you.”

  Truely and Courtney sat in the waiting room with Suleeta while Arnold went in to see Gordo. He looked frightened to enter the room, but determined.

  “You call out if you need us,” Suleeta said. It was an ominous comment.

  In Truely’s effort to distract Suleeta he said, “We saw Shauna and Pablo at the elevator. And Jerry.”

  “Everybody upset,” she said. “That’s all.”

  A LONG, awkward hour passed before Suleeta looked at her watch and announced, “I’d better get Arnold out of Gordo’s room before Jerry comes back. After his supper Shauna should take Jerry home to bed like I tell her — not bring him back up here. But she is worried Jerry will drink if he goes home. That’s the only way he can ever sleep, you know. Drink himself to sleep.” She left them and went to get Arnold.

  When they returned to the waiting room Arnold was emotional. He didn’t look any of them in the eye. His eyes were swollen and he was silent.

  �
��It’s not easy,” Suleeta explained. “Gordo is not Gordo like he used to be. It’s good to try anyway. You can come back tomorrow, right?” Suleeta was speaking to Arnold but looked to Truely to answer her.

  “We’ll come back,” he said. “Sure.”

  ON THE WAY OUT to the car Arnold said, “I appreciate it if y’all don’t ask me a bunch of questions.”

  “Can you tell us anything?” Truely asked.

  “Gordo wish that suicide bomber just go on and finish the job. He wishing he was a dead man. He mean it too.”

  Courtney put her hand on Arnold’s shoulder. “That’s normal,” she insisted. “He’ll change his mind. You’ll see.”

  THEY WOVE THROUGH the balmy city night on their way back to the Hyatt in total exhaustion. When they walked into the hotel lobby there was a slender young black girl waiting for Arnold. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and carrying a backpack with OLD NAVY stenciled across it. She jumped to her feet when they walked in. She waved and called out, “Arnold.”

  Arnold looked irritated. “I told you wait until I call you.”

  “I got a ride with L.J.”

  “L.J.? I told you stay away from L.J.”

  “It was just a ride,” she said.

  “Well, you can’t be here,” Arnold said. “I told you that.”

  The girl glanced at Courtney and Truely, who stood behind Arnold looking intensely curious. “Hey, y’all,” she said. “I’m Vontell.”

  Arnold looked embarrassed. “She’s not staying,” he clarified.

  “We’ve heard a lot about you.” Truely was thinking that this habit of showing up someplace uninvited must run in the family.

  Courtney hugged her. “Oh, honey, you look like your brother.”

  “Vonnie not supposed to be here,” Arnold said. “She need to catch the bus back home.”

  “I wanted to see you,” she whined. “Don’t you want to see me?”

  “You can’t stay,” Arnold repeated. “Not now.”

  “I won’t be trouble,” she insisted. “You over here in this nice hotel. Just let me stay here with you.”