trunk and had hustled into my house when I arrived.
Maybe I needed a lot of rest.
I got a diet cola out of the fridge. I didn’t have an ice maker either.
I sat down at the table again.
I drank half the soda.
No roaches came back out to see me.
I didn’t really want to think about rats anymore.
I was never going to have an ice maker.
It was tough having all these important things to think about.
I went to bed.
I was so tired, disappointed, and low on self-esteem, I couldn’t even manage enough energy to abuse myself.
Next morning I lay in bed for a while and thought about that poor girl in the hospital, wounded by some nut for no reason. I thought about Beatrice, and I felt weak and lonely, like a pine straw being buffeted by the ocean. Lately I was having a lot of those thoughts, feeling my mortality. Realizing more strongly than ever before that I had lived more life than I had left, and I wasn’t liking that revelation at all.
I often told myself I didn’t mind aging, but now I found myself constantly wishing I was young and that I could do it all over again, and differently.
Wished my hip didn’t hurt so bad, that all those places where my ribs were broken had not been broken. When I was young my fight injuries, received while defending myself, or just because I shot my mouth off when I shouldn’t, were a badge of honor. Now the badges hurt. The pins that held them to me were buried in my hide too deep and time was causing them to go deeper. The badges were feeling heavy as anvils; they were tugging at the pins; they weren’t worth wearing.
I got up slowly, twisting gingerly to make cracking noises come from my back, hip, knees, and ankles. I felt like something made of Tinkertoys, but screwed down way too tight and somehow rotten at the center, fearing that if I turned just a little too far in one direction the whole of me might come undone.
While I was brewing coffee, I noticed the light blinking on my answering machine. I looked at it, saw it registered five messages.
I listened to them. A couple were phone sales. But three of them were from Brett. Two supported the first. The first I played over three times so I could hear her voice.
“Hap. This is Brett. You know what, life sucks if you let it. I’ve been letting it. No more feeling sorry for myself. My daughter is going to turn tricks if I want her to or not. I’m thinking about getting a new puppy and a wax job. One or the other. Or maybe I’ll get a puppy and give that little scooter a wax job. Give me a call. Better yet, come by and see me. Bring your dick.”
Pure Brett. I was at a stage in my life where I really hoped it was more me she wanted to see than the dick. Though, like all males, I could tolerate that part if I had to. No arm twisting necessary.
While my coffee brewed I looked for something to eat, but there was only spoiled milk and moldy bread. I put the bag of bread and the plastic milk carton in the trash.
I showered, dressed, poured up a cup of coffee, went down to my car and out of there.
I went by a little cafe and bought some biscuits and bacon, drank their coffee. I drove to the hospital then, went up to where Sarah Bond still had a room.
I didn’t know if I was allowed or not, but I opened the door and slipped in. She was asleep. She didn’t have as many tubes and wires in her this time, but she looked only marginally better. Her face was pale as Lazarus before Jesus raised him. She was still patched and taped up. Only a little of her face showed. I reached over, patted her hand, and went out.
As I walked down the hall to the elevator, I thought about what Leonard had told me once. About how things didn’t happen for a reason, they just happened. And he was right. But Sarah being attacked, me trying to help her, had set a series of events in motion.
I wondered if things would have been different for Beatrice had I not come along. Maybe I shouldn’t have cut that fishing line, put her and Billy at odds with one another. I could have let her do what she wanted to do, as distasteful as it might be to me. She might have gotten her money if I had. Might have paid her bills and spared her life.
I wondered if Brett was on duty. We had met in this hospital. It was a very romantic memory. She had stuck a needle in my ass.
I went down to the desk and asked. She wasn’t on duty, still worked the night shift. Of course, I knew that. I was just hoping against hope. I drove over to her place.
The yard was ripe with sunburned brown grass, and a lawn chair had been gathered up and near turned over by the foliage. It was as if the lawn had grassy hands and it was using them to tip the chair.
I went up and knocked on the door. Gently at first.
No answer.
Less gently.
I heard someone moving behind the door.
I hoped it wouldn’t be some man.
That would certainly be a disappointment.
Brett opened the door. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and slippers made like bears. Her red hair was wadded around her face. She smiled slightly, said, “Well, if it isn’t Hap Collins. Come on in.”
“I’ve missed you,” I said.
“You sure you haven’t just missed what’s between my legs.”
Brett was like that, vulgar, to the point. Being Gilmer High School Sweet Tater Queen some many years ago hadn’t gone to her head.
“I missed that too,” I said. “I was thinking maybe that’s all you missed about me.”
“Well, I missed what was between your legs, Hap, but there’s plenty of that around.”
“Oh, good. Now I feel better.”
“I finally think I’ve got my head on straight. Killing people can kind of dig itself in deep, like a tick. I think I pulled off the body but the head’s still in me.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“You don’t have some other floozy you’re porkin’ do you?”
“No. But God how I’ve tried.”
“There hasn’t been anyone else, Hap. Not for me.”
“Well, there has been someone else, but… that’s over.”
“Wasn’t the same as with you and me, was it?”
“Nothing is. Also, she’s dead.”
“That’ll kill a relationship, all right. Sorry I said that. Are you still sad about it?”
“Darlin’, I’m always sad about something.”
“Sit down, sweetie, tell me all about it. I haven’t had breakfast. Want some? Breakfast, I mean.”
“Just ate. But I’ll drink coffee with you.”
Brett clanged some stuff around, came back with a piece of toast for herself, poured us coffee. We sat down at the table. She put one hand on my leg.
“I really have missed you,” she said.
“Same.”
“I know about how you saved that girl. You saved my girl too, Hap. You saved me. You’re always trying to save somebody. Everybody but yourself. You ever think about that?”
“Sometimes.”
“I don’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate what you did for me and my daughter.”
“I admit, I wondered. I shouldn’t. That isn’t the way you’re supposed to be. You do something with the best of intentions, it’s supposed to be with the best of intentions and nothing else. But I did wonder. Leonard chastised me for it.”
“Leonard’s a mutant.”
“That must be it.”
