Bad People (21 page)

“Sure,” she said. “Thank you.”

“In general I mean. You two getting along all right?”

“It’s fine Ethan.”

“Everything looks good here,” he said. “Are you helping your Dad with the household chores or is he helping you?”

“There’s a lady comes in three times a week.”

“Or that’s good. Nice lady?”

“She’s nice.”

“Good. Good.”

“You don’t have to worry about him. My Dad’s okay.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” she said, a tad defensively, he thought.

“You know, getting, I don’t know, getting help with your homework if you need it, regular breakfast—”

“I eat every day,” she said, and this time there was no doubt about it: she was defensive. She put one arm across herself and clamped onto her other arm. Trying to hide her body like that made her stretched-out sweater sleeve slide back revealing a thin, bluish wrist. No wonder she looked so less mature than she was, she wasn’t only thin, she was sickly thin. That accounted for the make-up too, hiding sallow dark sacs under her eyes he now noticed, knowing what to look for it.

“Well good to see you, Chrystal. I’ll head off now. You should get to sleep. Or are you coming down to say goodnight to your Dad?”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I usually don’t.”

They said goodbye and Ethan went back downstairs. That hadn’t been what he’d expected. He’d expected to just visit with the kid and tease her a bit, get her to laugh like when she was a little kid, but there was nothing funny to say.

He found Tommy still in the living room. He still had his coat on in his own house. Waiting.

“Tommy, you in counseling?”

“What the hell.”

“Are you and Chrystal in family counseling?” He knew they weren’t.

“Where do you get off?”

“You’re going to go. I’m going to contact someone for you through the union on Monday.”

“Bullshit, you will. My family’s got nothing to do with you!”

“Yes it does. It does now. I’m intervening. Before that kid starves herself to death, or you drink yourself to death—”

“So you don’t drink now? What a hypocritical political-correct pile of shit you are, Starvold. Better skip back to the barfly you got tucked in your bed, before she wakes up and robs you blind, you cheap piece of shit.”

“Tell it to the shrink I’m going to get you.”

“I just might. I got lots of stories.”

“Good for you, but you’re going.”

“I ain’t going.”

“You are. You both are.”

“Chrystal can if she wants. Not me.”

“You’re going. I’m going to make you. Or see what happens. I’ll go the Captain. I’ll tell him everything I’ve seen here.”

“Your word against mine. I’ve got friends.”

“You don’t have any fucking friends. Look around you, asshole. I’m the
only
thing you got. Listen to me Tommy, you are going to do this, you’re going to get your daughter help and you’re going to get yourself help.”

“It ain’t me,” he said. “It’s her fucking bitch whore mother is the reason she’s like that.”

“Yeah I’m sure it helps plenty when you talk about her Mom that way.”

“I don’t say that around her.”

“You think you don’t. But are you ever sober enough around her to be sure?”

“What do you know. You ain’t got no wife, no kids. None that would claim you anyway.”

“Yeah, we’ll work on me next time. But this time you’re going to do what I say, Tommy.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you haven’t thrown me out yet.”

“I ought to.”

“But you haven’t. And you stood there while I walked around your house, while I went upstairs and got your daughter up at three in the morning. You’ll do it because you know I’m right, Tommy. Call me whatever the fuck you want, bitch to the other old fat-ass fucks at the station however much you want about your faggot of a partner and his bitch-ass baby-sitting, but your going to the head-shrinker and that’s it.”

Tommy slumped down on his couch. With his chin buried in the folds of his chest, he whispered, “Fuck you, Ethan. Fuck you.”

Ethan
again, not
Starvold
. Ethan took it as a yes.

“And take a fucking shower before Monday,” he added. “In fact, take one right now. Or do you like smelling like the holding cell on New Year’s when your kid comes down in the morning?” He sat down on the far end of the couch.

“What are you doing now?” said Tommy.

“You mind getting off the couch,” said Ethan. “I just decided this is where I’m sleeping tonight.” He kicked off his shoes Tommy eventually got up, without another word. When Ethan finally heard the shower going, he got out his cell and rang his home phone. It rang four times before going to voicemail. He hung up and redialed. He kept doing that until the girl finally woke up, realized he wasn’t there, and picked up. He told her that he had an emergency, had had to leave and would not be back. Before she could say anything to that, he told her where to find cash in his dresser if she needed cab money. Then he apologized for taking off without telling her, and that he had intended to be back without her noticing. However, after a moment of confusion and some inflection of anger she didn’t seem so entirely upset. She had seemed a good sort, and if she wasn’t, it didn’t matter. Even if she cleaned out the spare cash in the sock drawer, or even the entire apartment, it didn’t matter. Nothing he had over there was irreplaceable.

Chapter 23: Luke, Connie

“I haven’t told you everything,” Luke heard her say in almost a whisper.

This is it, thought Luke. She’s going to tell me now.

“Go on.”

She rose up and stared at him in the dark.

She rolled off him and lay down on her back.

She didn’t say anything. They had had sex and she was pensive, emotional. He noticed her tensing up, putting her hand under herself and rubbing. “Here, let me,” he said. Luke turned her onto her side, away from him, and worked the small of her back, grinding his knuckle against the base of the spine. With that going on, maybe she would lose her inhibition for talking. Maybe now she would.

“Mm,” said Connie.

He waited, thinking only of the task of working his knuckles along her spine, working his will into her.

He blew on her neck. Unfortunately that startled her and she jumped.

“What is it.”

“Nothing. Just startled,” she said.

“Lie back down.”

She obeyed him, but lay down on her back this time, not he side. Rather than turn her over he decided to massage her arm a bit, moving it around like a cloth doll’s.

“That’s working,” whispered Connie.

Yes. She still was letting him in, she wasn’t as easy as Ardiss, or some others. He didn’t think she knew that she loved him yet. She seemed confused about that still.

“Luke?”

“Uh-huh,” he answered, bracing. He knew she was ready to unburden to him, talk about the murder. He was excited and quickly thought to move slightly away. He had sometimes learned to control his erections, but not always.

She took in a breath, then she said: “Do you ever think you’re a bad person?”

That took him aback, not what he had expected at all, of course. “No,” he said and for an instant he wondered what she knew. She couldn’t know anything, there was no way at all she could. The question continued to hang in the air. What was it? How could
he
be a bad person? That would be like asking “do you ever think you’re somebody besides yourself.” It made no sense. How could Luke be in any sense a bad person, when he was already Luke? The foolishness of the question made him start to wonder if she was just as dumb as every other person. But then how had she gotten rich? Luck? He realized his hands had gone slack and he wasn’t massaging her anymore.

“Why would I.” Why would anyone.

“Why what?” she asked, half in a daze. Maybe that accounted for the nonsense of the question. Or maybe that’s how she really felt about him, coming out of her sleep mind. “Why would
I
think I’m a bad person,” he repeated, perturbed.

She turned, hugged him, and lay her head on his chest. “Oh, why would you?” she asked. She kissed him. She breathed in deeply through her nose, like smelling him, like she could smell something in him, which was nonsense. Since Ardiss’s lie about him “smelling like death” he had started showering three times a day. He had stopped eating meat, and dairy, and all packaged food because he read that vegetarians smelled cleaner. He had showered immediately before meeting her, and shaved his upper body. If she smelled anything on him it could only have come of fucking her.

Something that sounded like a spatter of rain hit the window. Or hail. No, hail was impossible. Rain was never impossible but nevertheless seemed unlikely. There hadn’t been any lately and there was no reason to expect any now. Luke peered at the window. There was something there. Eyes in the darkness. He sat up, startling Connie. He continued to look but the glint of something that had been there a moment ago was either gone now, or had found a way to shield itself from him.

“Oh,” said Connie. She got out of bed and went to the window. She parted the blinds slightly. “Oh,” she said again. She found the clasp on the window and opened it as far as it would go—which wasn’t far. She reached her arm outside, all the way to her naked shoulder, groping for something. He watched her outline in the dark. She had to stretch until she caught the thing she had been stretching for. She drew her arm back in, holding the thing, and closed the window. Then she held the thing in both hands: a mewling kitten. “How did it get all the way up here?” said Connie.

Luke rose too and went to the window. He looked out. The ledges were narrow but not too narrow for an animal. Maybe it had leaped across from the ledge of the adjacent building, which was just a few inches away. Or maybe this room’s last occupant had put it out there to get rid of it.

Connie petted it, but the thing still mewled.

“It’s shivering,” said Connie, “it must be so frightened. I wonder if there is anything in the fridge.” She carried the animal to the small fridge lodged into a low cabinet. She opened the door, which made a rude suction sound.

“Perfect,” she said. Between the microbrews, sodas, Toblerones, dried fruits, she found a narrow carton of half and half. “But what do I pour it in?” She looked around the desk, the coffee-maker array. “The coffee cups are too deep. If only they had ashtrays in hotels anymore, that would be perfect.”

Luke was still thinking about the “bad person” question. Now here she was worrying about this animal after asking him a question like that, like she hadn’t asked him at all.

He got out of bed and fished through the nightstand. There was a brochure there on heavy card stock. “Here.” He fashioned that into a sort of shallow boat.

“How clever!” said Connie. “You’re so smart.”

She seemed genuinely impressed. About time. She took the boat, set it down on the table and poured half and half into it. Then she picked it up and held it under the animal’s face—rather than simply putting the animal down on the floor, or the desk, or better yet back on the windowsill. Luke wondered how to get rid of it and back to bed.

She rubbed the thing with her thumb and continued to hold the milk under its face. The animal turned away. “It doesn’t appear interested,” said Luke, hoping she would realize that and put it back outside.

“No?” said Connie absently. Then she addressed the animal. “You’re not hungry? Not hungry?”

At least she didn’t use the type of high voice that some people did when talking at animals. Ardiss used a voice like that. He wouldn’t let her have a cat, but she talked to other people’s animals like that, often slowing down to address dogs chained on the sidewalk while their owners shopped or had coffee.

“Maybe if you sit it down…” he said.

“No, she’s shivering, or he—” She turned the cat to investigate. “Her. Right the first time. She needs to warm up a little.”

It wasn’t that cold outside.

Luke realized he’d looked at this all wrong. If Connie wanted the animal fed then let it be fed. He reached out. “Let me try.” he said.

“You want to? Okay, try,” she said. She handed the cat over gingerly into his palm. “Careful, don’t scare her,” said Connie. She rolled the animal sideways into his hands. He then took the paper boat, holding it under the animal’s nostrils as had Connie.

“Maybe you know some trick,” she said.

He worked to keep his face muscles relaxed. He concentrated hard on the top of the animal’s head, pushed his thoughts between its gray ears and willed it to drink.

“You’re having no better luck than me,” Connie said.

He pushed his thoughts harder, the creature was tiny, how hard could it be to make it drink. It should be easy.

He held out for another minute and then his hand tremored slightly.