Trailer Park Noir

one hundred and twelve.

The temperature reported on the radio and television and in the paper was always five or six degrees lower when it was that hot so as not to scare off tourists. The official temperature came from a thermometer at the airport, suspended over a cool, well-watered lawn in the shade, and it was deceptive.

All the swamp coolers in the Riverside Mobile Home Park hummed and rattled and dripped. Fans whirred and some swept slowly back and forth.

In unit nine, there was a lot of laughter.

Reznick and Kendra lay on the bed together, naked and with no covers on. They had been going at it all day.

He scooted down on the bed and rolled over on top of her. He put his face between her breasts, squeezed them together on his head, and said, “Now I can die happy.”

Kendra giggled.

He pressed his mouth to her rib cage and blew hard, making a loud farting sound, and she burst into raucous laughter, saying, “That tickles!”

He propped himself up on his elbow and kissed her. They’d kissed so much that day, his lips were numb.

“You tickle me,” he said.

“I want some more screwdriver,” she said, handing over her glass.

“Sure.”

Reznick took the glass, then sat up on the edge of the bed. The pitcher was on the night stand, next to a bowl of melting ice. He put some ice in the glass, then poured the mixture of orange juice and vodka into the glass. The ice cubes cracked and popped as he handed it back to her.

The mixture was mild, but it was working.

That morning, Kendra had said, “I want some wine. Steven gave me wine.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Reznick had said.

“Yeah. I liked it. It made me feel… goofy.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any wine.”

“Can’t we go get some? We could go to Handi-Spot, couldn’t we? Just up North Street? Sometimes Mommy goes to Handi-Spot for cigarettes and beer.”

Reznick had thought about it. He’d never had much taste for wine. Vodka had always been his drink.

“Ever had a screwdriver?” he’d said.

“No. What’s that?”

“It’s orange juice and vodka, and if you think the wine made you feel goofy, you should try that.”

“Okay, let’s go get some orange juice and vodka and make some screwdriver!” she said.

“You’re feeling adventurous, huh?”

“Yes, adventure… ous.”

A year of sobriety down the drain, Reznick had thought then. But when he looked at the naked girl lying in bed beside him, as he moved his eyes slowly up and down her pale, milky, voluptuous body, he was overcome with a desire to celebrate. He’d decided then that he would make the screwdrivers mild. He wouldn’t overdo it, for his own sake and hers.

They had dressed and gone to the Handi-Spot Market in Reznick’s car. In the store, he’d told her to go find herself an ice cream bar while he got the liquor. On the way home, she’d reached over and squeezed his crotch as he drove.

“Has anybody ever sucked on you while you drove your car?” she said. She took a bite out of the ice cream bar, licked ice cream from her lips.

“Yes, and it nearly got us killed, so thank you, but no thank you.”

Kendra was adventurous. She’d been insatiable in bed, wanting to try everything. She had exhausted him, but at the same time invigorated him, so he was able to keep going back for more and more.

Now they sat up in bed with their backs to the headboard, and Kendra held up her glass in a toast.

“To, uh… to… “ Her face brightened. “To fucking!”

“All right. To fucking.”

They clinked their glasses together, then took a drink.

“This is the last, though,” Reznick said. “You need to take a shower and sober up before your mommy comes home from work.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll eat some peanut butter to hide the smell.”

His eyebrows popped up. “How’d you know about peanut butter? That’s an old alcoholic’s trick.”

“Steven told me about it.”

“Oh. Good old Steven.” Reznick remembered the sensation of stuffing the weights into Steven Regent’s abdomen and tried to eject the memory immediately. It did not eject so easily, though. It was not what he wanted to think about right now. It made him frown, darkened his mood. He swung his legs off the bed and stood. “I’m gonna go check on the dogs. They might want to go outside.”

He stepped into his shorts and pulled them up, then went down the hall to the living room. The dogs were napping side by side on the couch.

“How you guys doing, huh?”

They lifted their heads.

“Outside? You wanna go outside?” He opened the door, then the screen. “Huh? You wanna go outside?”

They stared at him sleepily, then put their heads down again, uninterested.

“Okay, suit yourselves.” He closed the doors, then went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and drank it.

He thought of all the noises of opening up Steven Regent and stuffing his abdomen with weights.

The damp whisper of cutting him open.

Reznick turned on the faucet again.

The wet smacking sounds.

He filled his palms with water.

The farting sounds.

He bent down and splashed the water on his face and scrubbed his hands up and down a few times.

He closed his eyes and saw the body lying before him in the beam of the flashlight that Anna held. It had been opened up, its dark guts glistening, milky eyes staring, mouth yawning open.

Reznick put both wet hands on the edge of the counter and leaned forward, let his head dip low between his shoulders. He felt nauseated. Part of it was the booze. It had been awhile since he’d had any. Yeah, that must be part of it.

But part of it was also those images on the backs of his eyelids, the memory of what he’d done the night before.

His temples began to throb. An ache developed behind his eyes. He frowned as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, then rubbed hard circles on his temples with his fingertips.

“Marc?” Kendra called. “Where’d you go?”

Suddenly, he did not want to go back to the bedroom. He’d had his fill for now. He felt far away from amorous. A shadow had fallen over him, a deep, dark shadow that had obliterated his desire.

He sighed and went down the hall to the bedroom.

“Time for you to go home, Kendra,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon, not already,” she said. Her whiny voice made her sound like a little girl, and it rubbed him the wrong way.

“No arguing. You need to get cleaned up and sober for when Mommy comes home. Eat some peanut butter, make sure your breath’s clean.”

“She might go dancing tonight. Can we get together then?”

“Maybe. But for now, you need to go home.”

She sighed as she got out of bed slowly. She came around the bed and pressed her body against his. “You sure.”