Authors: Willy Vlautin
B005HF54UE EBOK (7 page)
Two weeks later she moved out of the quad. She had six thousand dollars saved in a bank account and over a thousand dollars cash in her purse. She had hoped to move again, to put Reno and what had happened there behind her. For days she went to the bus station staring at the rows of destinations they had posted, but in the end she knew she could never leave. She felt she had to be in the same city as her baby even if she could never see him. So when the last day at the quad came, she put her two suitcases in storage at the bus station and went to look for an apartment.
She walked past downtown and headed east on Fourth Street. She stopped at the first apartment building that had a ‘For rent’ sign and went to the manager’s door. It was called the Emerald Arms. It was a mid-1950s two-story apartment complex with ten units. It had been in a state of ill repair for the last fifteen years, and its quality of tenants had fallen along with it.
The room wasn’t much, just a second story studio apartment. It was a decent sized room with stained tan carpet, an old table and two chairs, a kitchenette, and a twin bed. The place smelled of cigar and cigarette smoke and the once white walls were faded and yellow from it.
The manager stared out the window while she looked it over. He was a middle-aged Greek man who spoke with a thick accent. He was overweight and dressed in faded, worn out gray sweats. His gut hung out over the waistband and she could see his hairy skin from there. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in days and she could smell him from where she stood. She walked into the bathroom where there was an old full size tub, a sink, and toilet. The paint on the walls was bubbled, and loose linoleum sat on top of nearly rotten floor boards. There was mildew on the bath and sink and it all smelled of urine.
‘I’m not going to pay for a cleaning deposit,’ the girl said as strongly as she could. ‘I’ll take the place, but it hasn’t been cleaned. I can barely go into the bathroom it smells so bad.’
‘It’s been cleaned,’ the landlord said and turned to her.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said and walked to the kitchen area. There was a half size refrigerator, a sink, and a kitchen table and stove. She opened the refrigerator. Inside was a package of rotten hamburger, a carton of milk, condiments, and a few Chinese take out boxes.
‘Did you clean this out, too?’
He walked over and coughed when the odor came to him.
‘Let me plug it back in. At least we can try to freeze the smell.’
He found the plug and put it into the wall socket.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll cut out the cleaning deposit and knock half the rent off the first month if you take it the way it is, today. That’s my offer, take it or leave it.’
‘All utilities are paid?’
‘Yes,’ he said and coughed again.
‘It’s three hundred dollars a month?’
The man nodded.
‘You can have a phone here?’
‘There’s a wall jack.’
‘I’ll take it then,’ she said and opened her purse. She took out seven hundred and fifty dollars and handed it to him. ‘This is for three months then. I’ll need a receipt.’
‘Good,’ the landlord said and took the money and left the room. He came back minutes later with a handwritten receipt and the keys. ‘There’s a dumpster’, he said, ‘behind the building. It’s for all the tenants to use. You might want to start at the fridge. I also have a newer mattress in the storage room. If you want it let me know.’
‘I guess I’ll take the newer one then,’ she said, smiling, and the man nodded.
The girl followed him out and walked down to the bus station where she’d left her things and took a cab back to the apartment. The new bed was there when she entered the room, the old one sitting outside leaned against the wall. She dropped her things inside, then went back to the cab she’d kept waiting, and told the driver to take her to a K-Mart. There she bought new sheets for the bed, a couple of bath towels, three gallons of white paint, a roller and brush. She also bought a reading lamp, cleaning supplies, and a set of pots and pans.
She called another cab from the store and the driver took her back to the Emerald Arms. She left the packages on the floor, then left again and walked down Fourth Street to the Salvation Army. She bought a few plates, glasses, and utensils. She bought a blanket and a faded comforter. There was an old radio from the 1960s, and she took that as well. On the way back she stopped at a liquor store, bought a six pack of beer, a bottle of water, and
People
magazine.
She emptied the refrigerator first, then plugged in the radio and set it on the kitchen table. She found a country station, put on a pair of rubber gloves, filled the sink with hot water and soap, and began to clean. She started with the kitchen and refrigerator. She wiped down the counter and the cabinets. She sprayed down the fridge, then put the beer and a box of baking soda inside it. She scrubbed the floors.
The bathroom she sprayed down with disinfectant and scrubbed it clean. She put her towels on a rack, and put her toiletries in the mirrored cabinet. It was almost evening by then and she began to feel weak, and she stopped and took a beer from the fridge and opened it. She sat at the table and began thumbing through
People
magazine.
When she felt rested enough, she washed and put away her new cookware. She borrowed a vacuum from the landlord, ran it over the carpet, and returned it to him. Then she called another cab and had the driver take her to a grocery store where she bought a hundred dollars worth of food and called another cab to take her home.
Chapter 19
The Busboys at the Horseshoe Casino
When the last of the grocery bags had been brought in she locked the door behind her and put a chair underneath the knob. She put the new sheets, the blanket, and the comforter on the bed, but it was her first night completely alone and she was uneasy. She went to the refrigerator and took out a beer and opened it. She turned on the radio again and sat at the kitchen table. She’d have to get a TV, something to take up time at night.
She drank the beer quickly and opened another. She could hear her neighbors, the faint sound of a TV, of people talking, of running water. She’d get a phone tomorrow and then find a job. She wanted to take a bath, but didn’t feel like taking off her clothes and laying naked in a room she was nervous in. What if the old tenants came back? What if they still had the keys? What if the landlord walked in, what if some old tenant broke in? She’d have to get a new lock tomorrow and told herself she’d hook up a chain as well.
The station on the radio faded in and out and finally she turned it off. In the quiet she drank another beer, then found her cigarettes, lit one, and then thoughts of her baby came to her. What were they doing right then? Were they all sleeping in the same room? Maybe the baby was asleep in a crib and the couple were in a bed next to him quietly talking to each other. Maybe the baby was up crying and the woman was holding him and watching TV. Maybe she was dressed in a robe, in a nice house with a big yard and a deck.
The girl sat at the table and cried. She hated herself for giving her baby away. For being weak, for running and now for being alone. Horrible thoughts about herself came to her and once they did, they wouldn’t leave. She began to panic, her breath grew short, and she hyperventilated.
‘You’re horrible,’ she repeated over to herself. ‘You’re the most horrible person in the world.’
She could hardly sit still, her whole body shook. She took the cigarette from the ashtray, took pulls from it until it was red hot, then lifted the sleeve on her shirt and on her bicep, next to the other scars, she put the cigarette out.
The pain eased her anxiety as it always did. Her breath returned and her body relaxed. She put the cigarette in the tray and blew cool air on the burn. She finished her beer and went to the fridge for another and kept drinking until she was drunk. Then she took the comforter off the bed, found her walkman and her purse, and went into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, found in her purse her father’s old pocket knife, and opened it to the longest blade.
In the darkness, sitting on the cold linoleum floor, the girl kept beating herself up. Her thoughts became darker and darker as time passed, and they ended at the bottom where they always did: with the memories of the busboys at the Horseshoe Casino.
There were two of them. Mexicans who could barely speak English. They would say things to her in Spanish that she couldn’t understand. They would whistle, the older one would sometimes pinch her and grab at her butt. She told the older waitresses and they told her to tell the manager and to stand up for herself, to say something.
But she didn’t say anything.
One evening the older busboy grabbed her breast and hurt her. She had been in the back, in the store room, getting a plastic gallon jug of maple syrup. The dinner rush was over and she was restocking. He followed her. He said things to her, grabbed at her. She threw the jug at him and hit him in the face with it. He fell to the ground. She screamed. The head cook came. The busboy stood and began yelling at her in Spanish. The head cook began yelling at the busboy in Spanish. The girl told the cook what he had done. The cook grabbed the busboy by the shirt and began pushing him back against the freezer. Another cook came back and broke it up.
The cap to the jug had broken and syrup leaked over the floor. The head cook pointed to it and yelled at the busboy in Spanish, and the busboy slowly began to clean it up. He also apologized to the girl for the busboy, who was his cousin. He was new, the cook said, and he admitted he didn’t know him very well, but assured her that it wouldn’t happen again.
That evening, after her shift, she sat in the bar nearest the restaurant and had a drink with one of the other waitresses.
‘They’re not all like that, but a lot are,’ her co-worker said. The woman was forty-five and had three kids. She’d been a waitress since age fourteen. She was drinking a gin and 7UP, playing video poker. ‘It’s ’cause you’re young and cute. If you weren’t cute, if you were fat and old with a bunch of kids like me then they’d leave you alone.’ The woman laughed and finished her drink. ‘You got to be tougher. Those boys don’t like that. Tell them you got a husband who’s a cop. It seems stupid but it works, believe me. Wear a wedding ring. My husband thinks it’s ’cause they’re all raised Catholic and their girls don’t give it up easily, except for the prostitutes. So then when they see American movies and American girls having sex all the time they look at you thinking you’re like that, that you’re a real slut. You should hear the shit they say amongst themselves. At least José was there. He’s a good guy, he’s just trying to get his relatives jobs, but you can’t choose your relatives, can you?’
‘The thing that drives me crazy’, Allison whispered, ‘is that when I talk to the busboys and ask them to do something, like clear a table or whatever, they act like they don’t understand a word of English. I have to explain it to them over and over. I have to walk out to the table and show them. But then other times when you just say something to them, something unrelated to work, like, did you have a nice weekend? Or, how’s your baby, or whatever, then they understand you and answer you.’
The woman laughed again. ‘Yeah, I never thought of that but that’s true. The key is don’t talk to them. Don’t pay any attention to them. Make friends with one of the cooks, one of the in-charge guys. That’s what I always do. The Mexicans don’t want any real trouble. If they know you got people who could get them fired, then they won’t do it, and they won’t ever bother you again.’
The two women continued talking until the older waitress’s husband came to pick her up. Allison had two more beers by herself and then left. It was winter and the air was cold. She could see her breath as she left the casino. She walked down the street towards her mom’s car. She was drunk. She was wearing a coat and had a scarf around her neck. It was late out and there was no traffic passing when she turned down the side street, near the alley where she always parked.
The next thing she knew she was on her back and the older busboy from the restaurant was punching her in the stomach. The younger one held her arms. She screamed at first, and then when she saw who they were, she froze. She was sure they would kill her. She started to hyperventilate, she lost her wind and almost blacked out. The older busboy, the one on top of her, pulled up her skirt and ripped her underwear from her. He undid his pants and entered her. She began crying as he moved back and forth. He said things to her in Spanish that she couldn’t understand. He spat on her. She looked at the younger one, the one holding her arms. She looked at him in the eyes, and when she did, he looked back and let go. He yelled at the older busboy and stood up. He pulled the other man off her and they both went running.
She lay there on the cold street. She stared at the sky, the stars overhead. She couldn’t breathe. She heard a car drive by, saw the beeping lights of an airplane overhead. She could feel her legs and rear on the frost-covered street, and the scarf still around her neck. Then suddenly her breath released from her mouth, disappeared into the sky, and she could breathe again.
She stood up slowly and walked to the car and drove home. Once inside her mother’s house, she took off her clothes, took a shower, put on a nightgown, and sat in front of the TV. She didn’t go to work the next day or the day after that. She didn’t answer the phone or collect her last check. She stayed in for three weeks sleeping on the couch, leaving only to go to the grocery store. She didn’t tell anyone about it, not her mother, not her sister. Her mother worked nights and had a new boyfriend. She spent most of her off hours with him, and by the time she did ask Allison about her life, the girl had started another waitressing job at the Plaza.
When she woke the next morning she was on the bathroom floor. She was hung over and sick to her stomach. She got up, put the comforter back on the bed, got a glass of water, took three aspirin, and started the tub. It was early out, six o’clock, and the sun was just hitting her room.
She grabbed her walkman, undressed, and got in the tub. She started the tape player. Patti Page came on the headphones. She had only two tapes. Patti Page and Brenda Lee. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what to do. She would keep herself busy and try not to think about the past anymore. She would get her job back at the Cal Neva and then try to find something else, a job to get out of waitressing. Maybe she’d work in a store, she knew how to use a cash register, knew how to give change. She could answer phones, she had a driver’s license.
Her thoughts began to race as she thought of her uncertain future. Her anxieties started again. Her breaths quickened and her body tensed. She pinched her leg as hard as she could, hoping that would stop it. She closed her eyes and thought of Paul Newman. She focused on his face and his blue eyes.
‘So, kid, how’s the water?’
‘At least the water heater’s good,’ she said.
‘This place ain’t much, but I think you’ll do all right.’ He was sitting beside her on the toilet, drinking a beer.
‘You sure do like Budweiser.’
‘It’s the king of beers.’
‘I’m a terrible person. I don’t know why you ever talk to me.’
‘We all have tough times. Remember me in
The Verdict
. I was drunk as a bum for more than twenty years in that one.’
‘But you were a lawyer, you’d gone to college.’
‘Listen, kid, you could go to college. Believe me, you’re smart enough.’
‘You think so?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘I’ve done some horrible things.’
‘We all have. You ever seen
Hud
?’
‘You sure were an asshole in that one.’
‘I’ve been bad. You aren’t bad. You just got what I’d call bad nerves. That, my girl, you’re gonna have to work on. We got to toughen you up. That’s why you’re in the boat you’re in.’
‘I just wish we could disappear together.’
‘We do all the time.’
‘Remember when you were in
Hombre?
I would have taken care of you in that one. I would have had us sneak away and get a place a thousand miles from anywhere.’
‘They sure were rough on me in that one. Indians don’t get many breaks.’
‘I wouldn’t have let you go down the hill and get shot. I would have gone down myself.’
‘I know you would have, kid. That’s why I’m here.’
‘You think he’s gonna be all right? Do you think they’ll be all right to him?’
‘I just stopped by this morning. His new dad is a hell of a good guy. That’s something to know. You shouldn’t worry. You did the right thing.’
‘What are they like?’
‘They stayed up all night worrying about him. They got a hell of a nice house, too. Plus his new mom is the most patient gal in the world. I sure as hell wish I was as good a parent as they’re gonna be.’
‘You promise they’re that way?’
‘Of course I promise.’
‘What are they doing right now?’
‘Sleeping, which is what you should be doing.’
‘I feel horrible.’
‘I’d make you breakfast if I could. I can cook like a son of a bitch. I know how to make a breakfast that’ll cure any hangover.’
‘I really like your spaghetti sauce.’
‘That’s just the tip of the iceberg, kid.’
‘You know something that doesn’t make sense?’
‘What’s that?’
‘My sister Evelyn likes Robert Redford better in
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
. I can’t believe she’d say something like that.’
‘She’s just a kid, what do you expect?’
‘You won’t leave me, will you?’
‘Look, if I wasn’t so old I’d jump right in there with you. You’re a hell of a catch.’
‘I bet.’
‘You are. I told old Bob Redford about you, and he’s jealous as hell.’
‘You’re the only one I like.’
‘I know, kid. You’re a real gem that way. Now get out of the tub, it’s time to give it another try.’
‘All right,’ she said.
‘And kid—’
‘Yeah?’
‘Buy a TV, you think too much.’
