Ragged Company (20 page)

Margo put an arm on the guy’s shoulder. “These people have just won the lottery. They’ll be staying in suites while they’re here and they’ll really be needing your help from time to time,” she said. “What was your name?”

He shrugged his shoulders around a bit an’ tugged at his sleeves. “Greg,” he said. “Ma’am. Greg.”

“Ah, you’re here,” said a tall, skinny kind of guy with big feet and a nice-lookin’ dark blue suit. I wondered how I’d look in one of those an’ if all of us tall, skinny guys with big feet could wear those kinda clothes. “Pierre Lajeunesse. I’m the manager and I’ll be taking care of you personally while you’re here.”

He shook hands all around an’ was real friendly. Then he walked us into the hotel. I felt my mouth open up real wide but there wasn’t nothin’ I could do to stop it. It was like the movies in there. Like a castle with all kinds of people movin’ around lookin’ real busy an’ happy. Me ’n Timber stood side by side not movin’ an’ Digger came over too once he got over his jaw droppin’.

“Fuck me,” was all he said.

“We won’t register you right now,” Mr. Pierre said. “We’ll get you settled upstairs and I’ll take care of that later.”

“I’ll do that,” Margo said. “No need to bother them with it.”

The elevator was like a tiny lobby. There was thick carpet on the floor that my feet kinda sunk down into, mirrors on the ceiling, an’ corduroy stuff on the walls. I put my hand on it an’ it was like the pants I got one time from the shelter.

“Timber,” I said. “They took someone’s pants and put ’em on the walls. Corduroys.”

He reached out, touched it, an’ smiled at me. “Yeah,” he said. “Funny, eh?”

We got to where we was supposed to go an’ Mr. Pierre led us down a real long hallway with arches every now an’ then. It felt more like a castle all the time. While we was walkin’ he told everybody all about the hotel but I missed it on accounta it was so amazin’. I never seen so many mirrors. Every couple feet it seemed like there was another one an’ I figured castle people must like to look at themselves a lot. I wasn’t gonna like that part so much. I never did like lookin’ at myself. Never. Finally, Mr. Pierre stopped at a door an’ slid a little white card into a slot an’ there was a click an’ he pushed the door open. Me ’n Digger looked at each other in surprise again an’ followed the others into the room.

“Mr. Haskett, this will be yours,” Mr. Pierre said. “I hope it meets with your approval.”

He walked over to the far side of the room an’ pulled some curtains apart that was coverin’ the windows. When the sun poured into that room I thought for sure we was in a castle. It was all red like valentines. Everything was all puffy. The chairs looked
like if you sat in ’em too fast you’d just keep on goin’ down an’ down an’ down. There was big mirrors in there too, an’ when Mr. Pierre led us to the bedroom I couldn’t believe it. The bed was bigger’n the whole doorway I slept in. It looked like a big lake on accounta the covers was so thick an’ puffy they looked like waves. Big waves. There was mirrors again on the dresser and on the walls an’ when we walked into the bathroom you couldn’t look nowhere without seein’ yourself. Digger walked over to one of the two toilets an’ waved me over. We stood there lookin’ at the pair of johns.

“Howda ya figure this, pal?” he asked me.

“Geez,” I said. “Guess castle people poo together, maybe.”

“Ya figure?”

“I guess. Flush one.”

Digger pressed down the handle an’ instead of swirlin’ around an’ down like toilets do, this one sprayed water up at us an’ we both jumped back.

“Fuck off,” Digger said. “You ain’t getting me on that thing.”

Margo came over an’ whispered in Digger’s ear for a moment. As she spoke he got redder ’n redder an’ I wondered what she was tellin’ him.

“You got to be fucking kiddin’ me, lady,” he said, an’ when Margo shook her head he looked at me an’ shook his head too. “Don’t ask, pal. Don’t friggin’ ask and just don’t sit on it.”

We walked back out to the main room an’ Mr. Pierre showed us where all the stuff was. Digger walked right over to the bar an’ poured us a glass each an’ one for Granite too. The four of us stood there looking around an’ watchin’ while Mr. Pierre finished showin’ things to One For The Dead and Margo. I was amazed at it all. Then he walked over to a big tall cabinet, opened the doors an’ there was huge television sittin’ in there. Huger even than Granite’s an’ I couldn’t stop my feet from takin’ me right over there.

“Wow,” I said. “Do I get one too?”

“Yes,” Mr. Pierre said. “Every suite has one. There’s even one in your bedroom.”

“Can it do movies like Granite’s?”

“Yes. You call down to the switchboard and ask to see the one you want from the menu and it starts within minutes. Or we have VCRs if you should want to rent or buy your own.”

“I could watch one any time?”

“Any time,” he said. “It’s yours to use.”

“Can I go see mine now?”

Mr. Pierre laughed. “Yes. You’re right next door. We can go through the hallway or if you’ll look over here there’s a door connecting your suite to Mr. Haskett’s.”

He walked over an’ opened the door an’ I walked right through. I got confused right away on accounta it felt like I walked into the same room ’cept no one was there. Everythin’ was in exactly the same place. My head kinda spun over that.

“Hey, Digger,” I said. “I’m right beside you an’ my room’s just like yours.”

I found the TV by the bed. Mr. Pierre showed me how to turn it on an’ change the channels with a little black box you held in your hand an’ I switched it on. Both TVs worked the same way, he said, an’ went on tryin’ to tell me more about it but I was too lost. I never had a TV of my own before an’ even when I watched at the Mission they never let any of us change the channels on accounta we couldn’t ’cause there was a big plastic window in front of it to stop guys from throwin’ bottles at it. There wasn’t no such window in front of mine. I never even heard the rest of them leave.

T
HE BATH FELT GOOD
. Mr. Pierre had called downstairs for someone to bring us a big selection of soaps, shampoos, deodorants, toothpastes, razors, and bath oils. While we waited, a man from a shop near the hotel came and measured all of us for clothes. Then, once the bath stuff arrived, they left us alone in our rooms to wash up. Margo stayed with me and helped me as
much as she could and I liked that. It felt like having a sister. Together we filled the tub with nice warm water, measuring enough bath oil and bubble bath to make a really nice foamy-looking tub for me to step into. I couldn’t remember the last time I took a bath. We could always find a place to shower on the street. There were shelters that let us go in there every day if we wanted, but you couldn’t lounge around because there was always someone waiting behind you. But that bath at the hotel was amazing.

I used to float on my back in a shallow place in Big River. There wasn’t much of a current and the river bent around in a sweeping curve, making a kind of a bowl against the riverbank. The sun shone down there really nice, and floating in that warm, shallow water with the bright light of the sun against my eyelids was how I imagined it must have felt inside my mother’s belly. I loved it. Only when my dangling feet touched the sandy bottom would I open my eyes and return to the world. That bath was like that.

There was a big white fluffy robe waiting for me, and wrapping myself in that after a spray of perfume made me feel as special as everyone was saying we were now. When I saw myself in the mirror I wasn’t looking at the same woman. I smiled. Margo knocked lightly on the door and told me that my new clothes were ready. I looked in the mirror one more time and studied my face. I was an old woman. Old, but not ancient. There were more lines than I recalled, more grey in my hair, and a looser face. But clean felt good and I liked the way the expensive-smelling soaps and things made my skin feel.

Margo helped me pick out an outfit from the selection the store had delivered.

“We can go out together and pick out the things that you’d really like,” she said. “But these are nice for now.”

“Where are my old things?” I asked.

She looked at me with the kindest eyes I’d seen in a long time. “It’s a whole new world, Amelia,” she said. “You won’t be needing the clothes from your old one. I took care of them for you.”

We picked out a pale blue shirt with a nice pleated pair of black slacks, black loafers, and black silky-feeling socks.

“What would you like to do with your hair?” she asked. “There’s a stylist waiting if you want to cut it or change it.”

I looked in another mirror. My hair was long and loose and wavy. It had always reminded me of the way the old women from Big River looked and I had kept it long all through the years despite the difficulty. Somehow, keeping the look of the old ladies from the reservation had been important to me and I didn’t want to change it.

“Maybe just a braid,” I said.

The stylist was braiding my hair when there was a knock on the door. Margo got up to answer. I couldn’t believe my eyes when Dick walked into that room.

“Look at me,” he said rather proudly. He was beautiful. He was clean and shaved and someone had cut his hair. His skin was a little pink from the scrubbing and he wore pale brown pants, a white shirt under a dark brown patterned sweater, and brown shoes that sort of looked like moccasins except with regular laces. He stood there in the middle of that room with his arms spread wide, turning slowly around and around.

“How come you’re cryin’?” he asked, worried and walking over to where I sat. “Don’t you like it?”

“I love it,” I said when I could. “It’s just that I always imagined that you shone, Dick. Whenever I saw you, you shone like an angel for me and now, now you really do. You really do and I am so happy.”

He put a hand on my shoulder and I saw clean nails and knuckles and lines free of the charcoal grit of the street.

“A lady came an’ took care of my hands,” he said. “It was nice. Kinda funny feelin’ on accounta she cut my nails an’ all but it was nice. She said she could come back an’ do my feet if I wanted.”

I patted his hand and we smiled at each other.

“Timber ’n Digger are ready too,” Dick said. “Wanna see them?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.”

He trotted across the room and out the door. Margo sat down beside me and met my eyes in the mirror. “You okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “He looks so beautiful, that’s all.”

“Are you ready?” Dick asked, peeking around the open door.

“Okay,” Margo said. “Let the gentlemen enter.”

I gasped. It’s all I could do. There was no place for language at all as Digger and then Timber walked kind of shyly through the door. I had spent years with those boys and never really saw them like I did right then. Rounder clothes are bulky clothes. We dress in layers out there so we don’t have to carry big bags around all day and so no one can steal the clothes we’ve got. Coats are oversized with as many pockets as we can get, and the people we see are baggier, bigger, and their bodies aren’t defined at all. You get an idea of height and weight most times, but you never see the lines of anybody. Ever. Now I saw my two boys for the first time.

Digger wore a pair of black slacks and a deep blue shirt with buttons at the collar. He had on a pair of black boots with heels, so he was taller. But his face amazed me. He’d shaved off the scruffy beard he always wore and his hair had been cut back from its curly length to a short wavy style. When he looked at me I saw the blue of his eyes clearly, because the beard was gone and someone had trimmed his bushy eyebrows. Those eyes were filled with humour and I sensed that he was enjoying this.

“Digger,” I said. “You’re handsome.”

“Ah frig,” he said and headed toward the bar. “Bubble baths, shaves, haircuts, someone trimming away at your hands, a guy’d have to get better looking after all that fuss and stuff.”

“Hello, Amelia,” Timber said, and I turned.

I put my hand to my mouth and felt tears building in my eyes. This wasn’t the same hunched, lonely, and ragged man I had approached in the park so long ago. This wasn’t the shadowed, weighted man who seemed to slog down the street. This was a tall, slender, quiet-looking man in brown pants, pale purple sweater, and tan oxford shoes. There was a crewcut where there had been a tangle of brown hair beyond his collar before. This
was a clean-shaven man with soft brown eyes and long graceful lines around the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“Timber,” I said. “You look like a gentleman.”

He grinned shyly. “Thanks.”

The stylist finished with my hair and began packing her things. “You’ll need to have some deep conditioning work done, Ms. One Sky. And there should be some thinning and trimming done. You can call me when you want that done.”

When she left I stood and smoothed my new clothes before turning and walking toward the boys, who were seated around the dining table.

“Wow,” Digger said. “Who’da figured you for a cutie?”

“Geez,” Dick said. “You look nice.”

“Amelia,” Timber said. “You make those clothes look pretty darn good.”

“Thank you, boys,” I said. “I feel very fine, too.”

Granite came in and stood looking at us.

“Oh my god,” he said.

“Pretty impressive cleanup, wouldn’t you say?” Margo asked.

“Pretty impressive is right.”

“Well, I don’t know abut anyone else around here,” Digger said, “but I need me some friggin’ street.”

“Street?” Granite asked.

“Yeah. Real life, ya know? This shit is all fun and games and while it’s entertaining as all fuck it’s like being plunked down on someone else’s friggin’ planet and I ain’t liking it all that much. I ain’t used to it.”

“So what do you plan to do?” Granite asked.

“I don’t know, Rock. I just need some space.”

“Alone?”

“Fuck yeah, alone,” Digger said. “I spent years out there, pal. Years. It’s what I know. Money ain’t about to change that. It ain’t about to change me. I just wanna go wander around like I’m used to.”

“You’ll be okay?” Margo asked.