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Chapter 3
The Verdict

It was ten hours before he came back. He stood in the doorway and took off his clothes. He was haggard and could barely talk. He came into the room, unlocked her, and collapsed onto the bed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said and closed his eyes. He held her against him and fell asleep. She could smell the speed in his sweat and the alcohol on his breath. She waited for nearly an hour, until his breathing was steady and sure, before she got up. She then found her clothes, dressed, and left as quietly as she could.

It was past five p.m. when she made it to a main street and was able to catch a bus to her mother’s house. When she got off at her stop she walked to a mini-mart and bought a half a pint of vodka and a large fountain 7UP. Outside on the sidewalk she sat down, poured out a third of the soda onto the street, and replaced it with vodka. The sun was beginning to set and the heat was letting up. She took a long drink. She stood up and looked at her reflection in the window of a parked car and tried to fix her hair and clean her face.

Her mother’s house was in North Las Vegas. It was a two bedroom ranch house built in the 1960s and painted white with green trim, but the paint was now faded and cracking. There was a patch of grass in the front and a larger one at the back. Both were brown and dying. A carport with a green plastic roof ran alongside the house and wrapped around the back porch. As she walked up her street she could see her mom’s 1987 burgundy Chevy Lumina parked underneath it.

The air conditioner was on inside and her mother sat on the couch drinking a can of beer, watching TV. The blinds were closed and the only light besides the television came from a lamp next to the couch.

‘Hey,’ the girl said and sat down across from her in a recliner.

‘How was your day?’ her mom asked and then coughed. She was dressed in a worn-out Chinese silk robe. She was forty-seven years old and thin, with black hair flecked with gray. Her teeth were brown and she’d had three pulled that year. She had the face of a woman who drank every day and forgot to eat when she did. She took a Marlboro from a pack on her lap and lit one.

‘I dropped a tray with four plates on it this morning,’ the girl said. ‘I tripped and then dropped the order, then hit my face on a table. The food went flying everywhere. It was the most embarrassing thing. Everyone stopped. The whole restaurant just stopped and became silent. You’ve been there. You’ve seen how big it is. Can you tell if my face looks bad?’

The mother sat up, and the girl leaned over so her mom could see.

‘You poor thing,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t look too bad. But you should clean it out with hydrogen peroxide. I hated waitressing. Did someone trip you?’

‘No, it was just me being me.’

‘I’ve done worse, much worse.’ Her mother sat back and looked at the TV. ‘Look, here he is,’ she said and coughed again. ‘A Paul Newman marathon. I was gonna call you, but I couldn’t find Jimmy’s number. Will you write it down again and put it on the fridge? Anyway, it’s Paul Newman, all night and all day. Your dream man’s on a TNT Marathon. Paul Newman for twenty-four hours.’

‘Really,’ the girl said and tried to smile. ‘I rented
The Verdict
again last week. That’s what this one is. It’s a good one.’

‘It seems like it.’

‘So you still like Paul Newman, too?’

‘That’s one thing I don’t change on,’ her mother said and laughed.

‘Does it go on all night?’

‘All night.’

‘Do you mind if I stay here tonight?’

‘Of course not.’ She took a drink from her beer, finishing it, and set it on the coffee table.

‘You just get off?’

‘An hour ago. I’m supposed to go back on nights, but it’s a nice break to live like a normal human being for once. How’s the Plaza?’

‘All right,’ the girl said and took a drink from the soda.

‘You should start dealing. It’s not the best life, but the money’s pretty good. At least you don’t have to carry trays of food and bang your head into a table.’

‘I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t know. You need another?’

‘I got one in the freezer. It should be cold enough by now.’

The girl went into the kitchen and took the beer from the freezer and set it on the counter. She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. It was bare except for condiments, a quart of milk, a head of wilted iceberg lettuce, a gallon jug of water, and a half empty twelve pack of beer.

‘I think I’m gonna take a shower,’ she said and brought the beer back to her mother. ‘I put another one in the freezer for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I got paid yesterday. You mind if I take your car and go grocery shopping after I get cleaned up? I could make us dinner.’

‘The keys are on the counter. You and me, maybe Evelyn if she gets back in time. We could eat in front of the TV and watch Paul Newman, like a real family.’

‘Maybe I’ll make lasagna then,’ the girl said and walked down the hall and into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, turned on the light, started water in the sink, and undressed. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her face. The cut above her eye was swollen, but it was so close to her eyebrow it wasn’t that noticeable. Her nose and chin were swollen as well, but there was nothing she could do about that. There was dried blood caked around the cut, and she took a wash cloth from the bathtub and put it under the water. Her face was sore, but the cut didn’t look too bad once the blood was off.

She started the shower, grabbed the shampoo, held it in her hand, then turned off the light and in the darkness stepped into the tub, under the warm water, and sat down.

Her leg was sore and the bruise looked worse. Dark blue and purple and yellow. She put the shampoo next to her, felt around for a bar of soap, and washed her body. She let the water flow down. She sat back, opened the shampoo, poured some into her hand, and washed her hair. Then she turned the water hotter, curled in a ball directly under it, and finally let herself cry.

Chapter 4
Safeway

As she backed her mom’s Chevy onto the street she had the soda wedged between her legs. She’d added fresh ice to it and the last of the vodka. The radio was set on AM country classics. Her black hair was still wet and pulled back with hair pins. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a faded black T-shirt that read ‘Johnny Cash Live at San Quentin’ in white block letters. She wore her mother’s large, mirror-lensed sunglasses and ran the A/C in the car on full.

The neighborhood was mostly Mexican. The majority of the white families who had once lived there had moved to the suburbs, to gated communities and planned estate housing. When she was a kid it had been different. She could walk down the street by herself at night. Her mom would send her and her sister to the 7-11 with money for milk or candy or soda. Now her mom wouldn’t even drive there. She would go to a store two miles away. They had installed window locks and bolt locks on the door. They had gotten a dog from the pound, a German Shepherd mix they named The Hulk. The car had been stolen twice, their house broken into once, and their barbecue was chained to the back porch after it had been stolen for the second time.

She parked in the lot in front of Safeway, but left the engine running until she had finished the soda. She cut the engine, opened the door, threw the ice from the cup onto the asphalt, and got out. It was Saturday, crowded, and she had to park in the back. She left her sunglasses on, found a stick of gum in her purse, and went inside.

Under the fluorescent lights, she saw them, the people, the kids, the shoppers yelling and running around all talking and in a hurry. A lady on an intercom announced: ‘Fryer breasts on sale for $1.70 a pound. Betty Crocker cake mix on sale for $1.99 a box . . .’

Her anxiety began as soon as she entered, her heart racing, her stomach beginning to knot. The liquor section was across the store, she could see the sign. She took a basket and headed in that direction.

She bought a half a pint of vodka, put the bottle in her purse, and began to walk up and down aisles with her grocery list. Soon she saw a large woman with three kids. One kid was in the cart and the other two were next to the woman. The girl was in the spaghetti section and they were farther down in the soup section walking towards her. Then they stopped next to her and the woman put two boxes of spaghetti into her cart.

As she went down the aisle she watched the woman, her large body waddling, her kids talking and surrounding her. There was a dark stain on the seat of the woman’s sweat pants. Her period, the girl thought to herself. She wanted to tell the woman, let her know. Run up to her and whisper in her ear. Watch her kids and let the woman go to the bathroom. But she just stood there and her nerves began again because of it. The fluorescent lights came back. So did the people. The store was full. The lines were long and slow. A Mexican family was walking up the aisle speaking Spanish. The lady with the dull voice began announcing specials over the intercom again. The girl walked down a few aisles before she set the basket down in front of the bathroom. Hiding herself in a stall she opened the bottle and took a drink.

Chapter 5
Paul Newman

When she got back
The Hustler
had just begun. Her mother was rubbing BenGay on her legs and smoking a cigarette. Dark blue marks from varicose veins ran up and down her thighs and calves.

‘I’m glad you went to the store,’ she said during a commercial. ‘I couldn’t do it today. I’m beat. Maybe I’m wrong about dealing, maybe you should get a job off your feet. My legs have gone to hell.’

‘I’m already getting them,’ the girl said. She was in the kitchen making the lasagna.

‘You’re too young.’

‘Your legs don’t look that bad.’

‘Ha!’ her mom said as she rubbed her legs.

‘What’s happening now?’ the girl said.

‘I don’t know exactly, just a lot of talking and pool. I haven’t been paying attention. I need one more favor from you, and then I’ll let you be. You mind making a batch of hot water and Epsom salts for my feet? If you do that, I’ll be about perfect. You cooking me dinner, us together watching Paul Newman, and Evelyn coming home soon.’

The girl finished the last layer of the lasagna and put it in the oven. There was a small plastic tub in the garage and she grabbed it, mixed the salts and hot tap water into it, and set it down by her mother’s feet. Then she went back to the kitchen, opened a beer, and watched the TV from there.

‘You still seeing that guy?’

‘You mean Tom?’ her mother asked and lit a cigarette.

‘The tall guy. Black hair. I only saw him once or twice.’

‘That’s Tom. He was still married but I didn’t find that out until later. What a grease ball. I could go into it but I’d rather look at Paul Newman. How about you and Jimmy?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I only see you here three times a week now. You gonna move in with him?’

‘I don’t know what I’m gonna do.’

‘Jesus, I’d be lonely if you and Evelyn both moved out.’

‘I don’t think I will. Anyway, let’s just watch Paul Newman,’ the girl said, taking a cigarette from her mom’s pack on the table. She lit it and sat down.

After supper they watched
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Her mother fell asleep and the girl drank coffee and ate ice cream and watched Paul Newman ride alongside Robert Redford. The two joking back and forth and robbing banks and hiding out together in Bolivia.

When the movie ended she woke her mother and helped her to bed. She put a glass of water on her night stand and made sure her alarm clock was set and the curtains shut.

She went to the bathroom, got nail polish remover, nail polish, and an emery board, then filled her coffee from the pot on the stove and sat back down. She had toilet paper balled up between her toes and was blowing on her nails when she heard the front door open. Her sister Evelyn walked in carrying a sleeping bag and a backpack.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said excitedly.

‘It’s a Paul Newman marathon.
Nobody’s Fool
is on.’

‘No kidding?’ her sister said and flopped down on the couch. She was sixteen, with the same black hair and blue eyes and thin body as her sister. ‘But he’s old in this one.’

‘Yeah, but he’s still cute.’

‘Cute in a gross old man sorta way. They shown
The Sting
yet?’

‘No, it’s coming up after this one, I think. They just finished
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
.’

‘I like Robert Redford better in that one,’ Evelyn said and took off her shoes. ‘But I like Paul Newman better in
The Sting
. I’m so stoned right now. We went up to the lake. Me and Junior and a couple of his friends. His brother rented a house boat.’

‘That sounds nice.’

‘What smells so good? Mom didn’t cook, did she?’

‘No, I made lasagna.’

‘I’ve hardly eaten all weekend,’ she said and went to the kitchen and came back with a Coke, a plate of lasagna, and a package of saltines. ‘You still staying with what’s his face?’

‘Jimmy.’

‘If you ask me he’s a loser.’

‘I’m looking at Paul Newman right now.’

‘He’s too old in this one.’

‘I’d go out with him.’

‘That’s sick, that’s like Mr Renton when he lived next door. Imagine if you were having sex with him. He’d be stuttering, then his teeth would fall out and hit you on the head.’

‘That’s sick.’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You want to see something?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘It hurt so bad I started crying.’ She pulled her top off. She turned on the lamp next to her. There were silver rings in her nipples. ‘I got them pierced. It hurt so bad. Worse than my tattoo. It’s lucky I don’t have to wear a bra ’cause that would kill.’

‘My God, that looks painful.’

‘We were drunk and Junior talked me into it. He has this friend and he did it at his shop for free. I might take them out. It’s supposed to feel good but I don’t know. They say it’s not supposed to hurt for too long. I’ve been putting hydrogen peroxide on it three or four times a day, but still.’

‘Do you have to sleep on your back?’

‘Yeah, but I like sleeping on my back.’

‘The show’s on again.’ Paul Newman was in an old pickup truck. His kid and grandkid were there, sitting next to him. There was snow on the ground and they were having a hard time starting the beat-up truck.

‘How’s the Plaza?’

‘All right, but I should try to get in somewhere where the tips are better. Plus that place has the worst food in the world. At least a couple times a day I get yelled at ’cause of it. Even the drunk people complain.’

‘You should waitress in a fancy place and then you’d make a fortune.’

‘I should.’

‘Junior and I are going to move down to Mexico. His grandfather just died and he’s gonna get something like five thousand dollars. Can you imagine having that kind of money? You can rent a place on the beach down there for cheap. We could probably live a couple years on that alone. Plus Junior’s been making these necklaces and wristbands. Here’s what the wristbands look like.’ She put her wrist underneath the lamp and showed them to her. ‘He’s been selling them at school. On the way down we might go to LA and sell them along the beach for extra cash.’

‘I’d tell you to stay in school, but I hated that place.’ The girl took a cigarette from her mom’s pack on the coffee table and lit it. ‘But I should have graduated or at least gotten my GED.’

‘Maybe we could do it together.’

‘If you want to, I really will. Jesus, you know if Paul Newman lived next door, even the way he is in, say, the
Color of Money
or
The Verdict
, maybe even as old as he is in this one, I’d still marry him.’

‘Maybe he’d have his social security check like Junior’s grandma, and he’d spend it on you. Take you to Dennys or Carrows.’ Evelyn laughed again.

‘I’m serious,’ the girl said. ‘We would drive down to Mexico in his pickup. We’d stop at all the tourist places along the way. Then we’d rent a little house overlooking a beach and we’d listen to music and play cards and go swimming. At night we’d go eat at a restaurant and walk around town and sit outside at a bar and you and Junior would be there.’

‘I bet Junior and him would get along great.’

‘And we’d all drink Margaritas.’

‘Maybe Junior could get a job working for him.’

‘Maybe we could get a house next to each other.’

‘Matching houses,’ her sister said giggling. ‘Matching houses and matching cars. Everything exactly the same. We’d even dress the same. Now that would be something.’