Jane Two (15 page)

“Let him sleep. I'll wake him up after we empty the car.”

“He's drunk and he reeks.” Lilyth leaned over Lew, she of all people fanning her nose.

“Y'all go inside. Mic, take this bag and get ready for bed. I gotta get Lew off the lawn anyway.” I carried a bag of groceries and unloaded it on the kitchen counter and headed for my room. I stopped when I thought I might have heard something. I put my ear to Lilyth's bedroom door to confirm, then slowly opened it and peered in to find Kevin, alone, sitting yoga-style on Lilyth's shag carpet and leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. I don't know how he could sit in there when the curdled stench of Lilyth's army of perfumes was enough to gag a maggot.

“You come through the window, don't you?”

Kevin opened his eyes and smiled big at me. “Shut the door, Speed.”

I hesitated and took a deep breath, then committed myself to the sugary haze probably intended to mask the fog of Kevin's smoke.

“Why don't you just knock on the door?”

“I think it's easier to get forgiveness than permission, don't you?” I wondered for a moment if forgiveness and permission could ever be granted for the same thing.

“I don't know. I guess.”

“You can tell yer dad if y'want, but say I broke in, don't say she leaves it open for me.”

“Are y'all gonna have a baby? You and Lilyth?”

“I'd smile if we did. Someday, maybe. Oh…The Hole?”

“I wuddn't spyin' on y'all.”

“I know you wuddn't. I love your sister, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

I was about to leave when Kevin stopped me in my tracks. “You should talk to her.”

“What? To…
her
?”

“Yeah, man, you'll never understand her if ya don't.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ya'll seem so far apart, ya know? But you ain't.”

“Well, we're about to be.”

“Nah, ya'll come from the same place. You wanna understand her, don't you?”

“I think I already do, and that's what I wanna tell her.”

“Well, what are you wait'n' for? I know she'd like to hear it.”

“Well, I mean, what if she…?”

“She won't! Look, you're young and you've got dreams to live, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I bet you don't remember her absence being in any of them, do you?”

“Nope, she's in every single one of 'em.”

I marveled at how Kevin knew all this. It was clear to me that Jane's unicorn power had spread even to him.

 “I'll leave, you know, if you wanna do it now.”

“Well, YOU don't hafta go, I mean it's too late tonight anyway.”

“Well, don't wait too long, Speed.”

“I won't, I'll do it in the morning. I tried already. Twice. But…”

“She's a mythical creature, Speed.”

“I know, she's a unicorn.” I turned to leave.

“Hey, Speed.” I held on to the doorknob, looking back. “You're a cool kid.”

“You're a cool
big
kid.”

I smiled and left. And I knew that Kevin totally understood. So, I went right to my room to plot my ship's course to navigate straight to Jane the next morning and tell her all the things that I wanted her to know. In preparation, I rattled around inside my closet looking for my can, when blistering panic suddenly streamed through my whole body.

“Mom?!” I ran out of my room and outside. “Mom!” She, Dad, and Lilyth were still trying to prop up Lew's amorphous mass. “Mom, have you seen my Charles Chips can? It was in my closet under my football blanket that Lilyth borrowed.”

“The one you painted on the inside, y'little retard?”

“Lilyth! You gotta stop callin' him that! Zat the one, Sug?” I nodded. “Well, Sug, I think we sold it. I know it was on the sale table.”

“Yeah, it got sold. I sold it.” Lilyth knew that my Charles Chips tin meant a lot to me, and she avoided eye contact. “What? It's not my fault.”

“Why, Sug, did you want to keep it?” I don't know why my emotions affected my body so much, but once again The Grunt came, and I could neither move nor block the gaping holes in my eyes.

“No, no, I was just wonderin'…” I did my best to hide the fact that everything was ruined in that very instant. I don't know how long I stood in the driveway and stared at stewed Lew, whose balls were once again peeking out, but it was longer than a moment. And I could see the imprint that the lawn chair's webbing had left on his backside as he was hunched over to one side about to fall onto the grass. It looked painful and red, and was an exact detailed embossing of the intricate plastic webbing underneath him, but I knew it would be gone long before he ever woke up. “Better roll the windows up,” I said.

My sister just looked at me as I stared at Lew's balls until my body came back and I turned and went inside.

“What'd he say?” asked Mom.

“Dunno, he's weird,” countered Lilyth.

The house door closed behind me and Steve. I went straight to my room and watched the rain slowly start to trickle onto the window until I could no longer see lights from Jane's house at all. Never again did I hear another word about Lilyth's smoking accusation.

E
ven after my talk with Kevin, I figured that losing my film of Jane was a sign for me to just forget about her. Summer was fast approaching, she was moving, and so was life. But Kevin was right. I had to at least try before she was gone. One more try. For the longest time, I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I combed my hair to the side. I put on my nice green, short-sleeved button-down shirt with the newest pair of Toughskins I owned. Steve McQueen and I crept as quietly as possible to the front door with my bike and two records in my hand. I reached the front door and slowly opened it.

“Bye, Mom, I'm heading to swim practice.”

“Aren't you going to be hot? It's so muggy out today.” Mom peeked around the corner from the kitchen.

“Oh, well, sometimes it's cold when we first get out of the pool.”

“Well, Sug, why don't you…” She stopped herself and just smiled at me. “Okay, well, try not to get that shirt too dirty.”

“Okay, bye!”

I biked down Bentliff, my world glossy and sparkling as the sun burned off the clouds. The Milans weren't out yet, maybe on account of the early rain. Funny, usually you could bounce a quarter off the Milans' green velvet lawn, almost like at the golf course. But riding past it, it looked as shitty as all the other neighbors' on my street, fringed partway up the legs of the Milans' two vacant aluminum lawn chairs. I reached Sandpiper Drive, and the closer I got to Jane's, the less I could remember of what exactly I was going to say to her.

Her home felt like a haunted house for real now. Jane's garage was completely empty, except for a trace of Jane's lingering scent. I put my bike down and proceeded to the front door with the two records in my hand. I got about halfway up the lawn when I stopped and ran back to my bike, picked it up, and positioned it just right against her mailbox. I took a deep breath and strode up to the door, knocked real loud, and took a step back. Steve McQueen loped across the lawn to join me at the door. Then I remembered the doorbell. What if they didn't hear me knock? I fretted over whether I should have rung it or if it would be rude if I rang and knocked. What if they preferred you to use the doorbell? I mean, after all, that's why they had a doorbell. Terror finally resigned, and a certain calm came over my mind and body. I waited. Steve pressed himself against my leg. Like magic, the door sprang open to me. My mind was a blank slate, I had no idea what to say to the mustached man at the door, and all I could think was that he looked exactly like Sonny Bono. But I was young, and I didn't know.

“Hey there, little man!”

“I, um, I gave her my ‘Hound Dog' and ‘Sunshine Superman' for her ‘Sounds of Silence' but she can keep mine 'cause my sister has an eight-track machine that records, but I don't know if ya'll have one so I wanted to give her this one, called ‘Cosmic Dancer.' It's a different song 'cause they sold her ‘Sounds of Silence,' so I'm returning, I mean it's one of my favorites, and it duddn't skip or anything, and I'm giving her my ‘Silence' 'cause I already had one, and sorry I wrote ‘Mine' on it, but she can have it 'cause I lost hers, um…but it's almost summer and school's out soon so I probably can't give it to Miss Bradford, I mean Mrs. Bradford, for her to give her, and I…um, um.”

Mr. Bradford stared down at me and his smile kept stretching his face wider than I knew it was possible to stretch a mustache.

“Um, is Jane home?”

“Let's see what you've got there.” I handed over the records and he read the labels, mirth in his eyes.

“‘Cosmic Dancer'…well you got her pegged, she'll love it.”

“I'm replacin' her ‘Silence' there, too, sir.” I pointed awkwardly.

“But they won't be home for another hour.”

“Oh.” I was devastated. “I have to go to swim team practice.”

“I can give it to her for you.” I nodded. “And I'll tell her you came by. What's your name, son?”

“Mickey, sir.” I reached out to shake hands.

“Well, Mickey, I'm Troy Bradford, Jane's dad.” He shook my hand and held up the records, smiling all the while. “And I will make sure Jane gets these.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bradford, sir.”

“I thank you, son, Mr. Sunshine Superman.”

Jane's father closed the door between us, leaving me deflated on the slate stoop, staring at the door. It felt so good to be on her doorstep, I didn't really want to leave. Steve McQueen gave a little bark and I knew it was time to go. Straight off, my dog led, and I sped faster than I had ever pedaled over to The Ditch on Carvel Lane to meet up with Firefly. Steve McQueen kept up alongside me, sniffing everything in the gutters ripe after the rain. Up Carvel Lane I headed toward the bridge that crosses over the tiny stream surrounded by concrete that snaked slow and thin through the city and into Braes Bayou. Sun was searing off everything, including my good button-down shirt that I stripped and stuffed in my waistband for safekeeping as I rode.

The water was a little higher in the creek below, and Steve McQueen ran down the cement steps that flanked the angled concrete walls of The Ditch, whose walls sloped twenty feet down to the water. I dropped my bike and removed my good britches down to my Speedo, and barefoot I followed Steve McQueen down to hunt crawdads while I waited for Firefly and swim practice. The cement steps were littered in broken liquor bottles and used-up old
Playboy
magazines rumpled in heaps in the corners along the slanted walls of our descent. On the bottom step closest to the water, I found a small battered suitcase containing playing cards, poker chips, used shell casings, syringes, a pistol's breech, and a cylinder of WD-40. I never thought anything of the illicit paraphernalia. I had found worse there before, but I seized on the WD-40. I gave the little can a shake, and since it felt pretty full, I took it, knowing it would save me a trip home for Dad's can. Then I kept on, wading down the creek at Steve's urging for me to hunt with him. Like furry stilts, Steve McQueen's long, gray legs poked along the filthy stream as he snouted at crawdaddies and floating trash. The place was a dump heap. I followed behind him and caught a struggling lizard washing by in the sleepy current and set it against the angled cement wall, where it clambered up to safety.

There was no sign of Firefly. Looking back down the creek, on the bridge I now saw the red Firebird with The Plank in its grille, way up above the concrete vertical, parked next to the guardrail. I couldn't climb up from the water as the concrete vertical was too tall, so I waded back to the stairs and got my bike, leaving Steve McQueen, not yet satisfied with a day's kill. At the bridge I parked in front of Kevin's Plank and looked over the edge way down and saw only the lazy brown liquid lolling on toward Braes Bayou and my dog shaking the life out of a water snake by its head. I lay down on my naked belly and Speedo to hang my head over the edge and look under the bridge. Upside down, my eyes adjusted, and the crinkled
Playboy
centerfolds that stuck to the wall became apparent. I read the white-paint graffiti claiming who was an easy fuck and saw Lilyth's name had been covered partially with the words, painted in black,
Fuck you! Lilyth is a Mythical Creature!
Then I spotted him.

Tucked up in the crevice between the bottom of the street and the concrete slope sat Kevin like a Buddha, eyes shut, smoking something. Finally he looked right at me as if he had known I was there the whole time.

“What happened to your head, Speed?” Kevin chuckled. “You should try to turn it over, or ever'one's gon' look at you funny.” He toked deeply. “You should think about get'n a car, too, 'cause it'll be harda ta get around with just a head. Or maybe not. It's all in the shine anyway, you know? And it'll be here till tomorrow.”

“I forgot to tell you, your ‘Free Bird' fell out in my driveway.”

“That's 'cause it
is
, Speed.” Kevin just stared at the water. Occasionally the hollow sound of a car rumbling over the bridge caused me to glance up. Still no Firefly.

“It is what?”

“Exactly, and it'll never change.”

“Want it back? Your eight-track?”

“How old you think this is, Speed?” I looked around, I didn't remember The Ditch ever
not
being there, and I wondered about it.

“I don't know. It's been here since I have.”

“Six thousand years old…or four-point-six million?” Kevin took another drag.

“Um, that seems like too much.”

“What's enough?”

Even before his head dropped beside me, I smelled peanut butter and burnt pancakes, and I knew Firefly had mooched breakfast off my mother again, surely pretending to have forgotten he was supposed to meet me at The Ditch. Wide-eyed, Firefly gawked at Kevin, who did not look up.

“Uh, we gotta go, Mic.” Firefly withdrew. Next he tried to jerk me to my feet by my Speedo and thumped my bundled britches at me. “Dumbass, you know who that is?”

“Yeah, Kevin.”

“Exactly! That's KEVIN! He's been
arrested
! He worships the
devil
!”

“Shut up! He duddn't!”

“Let's just go! And c'mon, dipshit, you can't go ridin' through town in that damn weenie bikini, showin' your helmet all over Houston.”

I threw my head over the edge one last time. “See ya, Kevin!” I got back up and pulled on my trousers.

“Water at your hairline, Speed Racer!” Kevin's voice arose from below my feet. I looked to Firefly to see if he knew what Kevin had said, but he just raised his shoulders at me.

“Uh…what?”

“When you swim! Keep the water at your hairline. I've been watchin' you, Mickey. Trust me, you'll go a lot faster.” I was stunned that Kevin even knew I swam, much less that he had been watching me.

“Oh yeah, okay. I will. Hey, thanks, Kevin.” I looked at Firefly solemnly, like, yeah, this cat gives me pointers all the time.

“Sure. Later, man.”

“Yeah, later…man.”

“Damn, Mic! I can't believe he even knows your name!” Firefly paused and backed up his bike a stride and yelled down over the edge, “Later, man!”

Firefly waited, but Kevin didn't respond.

As we rattled across the bridge toward swim practice, Firefly belted out Pilot's “Magic” and kept right on yelling it clear across the golf course, down past the country club and the new homes, and Jane's at hole eighteen. He never gasped once, just kept belting out his tune, cocooned and fledging as he was now by swim practice. Firefly and I rode past the Halfway Food Hut at the ninth hole, where golfers could stop and snack to a familiar mix of smells: chlorophyll as the wide-blade mowers snickered past us, and the sulfurous stench of greasy egg-and-cheese breakfast burritos as golfers fattened up.

“I wonder if there's anything I can eat that'll make me float better.”

“Ask Coach Randall. I don't think so, though.”

“I can't even go a whole length without sinkin'!”

“Yeah you can, you can go a lot further than you could when we started.”

“Shit, you think anyone else'll have to stop during their leg?”

“I don't think so, 'cause it's slower if you touch anyway.”

“I still wish we had more time. How come you gotta start the relay last? I'd'a thought Coach would put you first.”

“I don't know, I guess…” But suddenly there was something more important than what I was saying, and I had to shut up. It was the hi-hat sound of that wonderful VW Vanagon gradually increasing nearby. I looked straight ahead and came to a stop right there on the crest of the green.

“What, Mic?”

“Kid, outta the way!” A golfer in bright, crisp-pressed attire was pitching a fit.

“And put on a goddamn shirt, y'little street urchin. This is a golf course, fer Christ sakes,” his partner railed on me.

The “Moby Dick” intro became louder and louder, and then like a sunrise, Mrs. Bradford's orange VW Vanagon pulled into the driveway of the butter yellow house whose backyard flowed into the golf course. The one that now had a trampoline. I studied specks on the horizon. And there they were, Mrs. Bradford and Jane getting out of the orange van.

“Earth t'Mic, what the fuck's with you?”

“Nuthin'.” I felt my mouth stretch across my face as wide as the Texas horizon, but I buttoned it up sharp and tight like my Grandaddy's smile. My more than half was right across that course.

“You're weird.” Firefly left me there, rode off down toward the pool, stopped, and looked back at me. “What? C'mon, Mic, I still gotta get into my faggit suit.”

“I'll meet you at the pool, okay?”

“What do you mean? Wait, where are you going?”

“I'm just…I just gotta go do somthin' real quick.”

Perplexed, Firefly frowned at me, and I pedaled off across the golf course toward Jane's new house on the other side of the fairway. As I rode, I put my shirt back on and buttoned it with one hand. On the far side of the Bradfords' new garage beyond the VW van, I set down my bike and peered around the corner as I tucked in my shirt, watching Jane and Mrs. Bradford unloading the orange van into the house. I waited around the corner of the garage until they came back out for another load. Jane was barefoot, her red and blue 95s dangling around her neck. She and her mother were at the van, and I stepped out around the corner, opening my mouth to speak and fully prepared to say I had found just the thing Jane needed, when a voice pounced on us from the street.

“Hi there, neighbors! We're from two doors down. We brought y'all some macadamia nuts from our trip.”

I stopped before Mrs. Bradford saw me. She looked over at the street and went around the van to greet the intruders. Standing curbside by Jane's new forest green mailbox stood an over-tanned young mother with far too much makeup and a tanned adolescent boy who was not exactly obese, but chunky-fat with a double chin, looking like he ate for sport and was allergic to dirt, dressed nicer than most kids I had ever seen. I stayed back and watched him shake Mrs. Bradford's hand with his fingertips, like a girl.