"Stop it, Hap," Trudy said. "Let him go."
I let him go. Trudy bent down and put an arm around him and tried to hoist him up. He shrugged her off, got up on his own.
He pointed a finger at me, but he wasn't standing as close as before. "Try that when I haven't been drinking."
"Okay," I said.
"Hell, listen to me," he said. "I'm playing your macho game now. I'm not getting pulled into this. I'm gonna lie down. I've had all this foolishness I want."
Without wobbling too much, he went through the hallway door and out of sight. Maybe he and Chub had their own special place to sulk back there. Some old sixties records to play.
"Happy?" Trudy said.
"Semi."
Chapter 10
I awoke to the sound of a bird and the embrace of the cold. The voice of the bird was pathetic, and the cold was criminal.
I was on the back porch of the little house, and it had once been screened in, and in a sense still was, but to make it a kind of room, cardboard had been tacked all around on the inside of the screen in a couple of layers. It might have worked okay summers, but winters, especially this winter, it wasn't much.
I wondered whose idea it was to fix the porch this way. The landlord or its erstwhile renters? I voted on the renters. A landlord who'd let people live in this shit box didn't strike me as the type to bother with even cardboard siding.
Originally Leonard and I had been in the kitchen, sleeping on the floor. The cookstove, with the oven door open, heated up the small room perfectly. But I awoke in the middle of the night bathed in sweat, finding it hard to breathe. I opened the door that led out to the back porch and that helped some, but the air in the kitchen was still poisonous with butane. I toed Leonard awake and told him I was going out to the porch, and if he didn't want to spend tomorrow in Marvel Creek Funeral Home, he might want to do the same.
Now I was lying under some ice-crusted blankets, inside an old sleeping bag. The bag was on top of some broken down cardboard boxes (probably the remains of the interior decorating scheme), and the seams on the cardboard had worked through the bag and into my back. I was still in my clothes. My socks felt damp from yesterday's sweat. My body felt stiff as wire.
I rolled over, and sitting in the kitchen doorway with a blanket over his shoulders, shivering, looking at me in what can only be called an unpleasant manner, was Leonard. His breath was snorting out of his mouth and nostrils in white puffs and his eyes were narrow.
He said, "I've let you talk me into some shit before, Hap, but this one is the king of all the dumb things. These fuckers are seriously balled up. Ought to have my ass kicked, and be proud of it."
"Good morning."
"Chub is really in orbit, and Howard is so full of what Trudy's filled him with, he doesn't know if he needs to shit or throw up."
"Don't you have something unpleasant to say about Paco? You wouldn't want to leave anybody out."
"He confuses me. He doesn't seem like part of this. He's got his feet on the ground."
"You're just sweet on him because he went out on the porch and had a smoke with you."
"Yeah, that's it."
"They're kind of silly, Leonard, but they've got good intentions. Without people like these sillies, blacks would still be drinking at water fountains that said colored and they'd be going around back of a restaurant to get their food through a little slot."
"Now you're talking like the fat guy."
"He's a clown, but his heart's in the right place."
"Tell me about women's rights now. Toss in something about how the gays used to be more oppressed before people like these, people like you, came along. Tell me how you people ended the war."
"All true."
"Then why in hell didn't you go for what they wanted you to go for yesterday? They were fishing with every kind of bait they had."
"I guess it's their posture. That holier than thou attitude that smacks more of a performance than anything else."
"I thought you said it was heartfelt."
I hate being caught in a contradiction. "Have you ever thought about fucking yourself, Leonard?"
"Constantly. Want to have a relationship with a good man, figure I'd be prime pick. But my dick's about a half-inch too short to get the job done. I like to feel it all the way up in my liver."
"You through jacking with me now?"
"Almost. All I got to say is you can't be a professional bleeding heart. Yeah, things are better for blacks and women and gays, but it was the blacks and women and gays that did it, not fuck-ups like this bunch. Whites and straights came along to give help, all right, after the blacks said 'enough' and got their heads busted, and it's the same for the gays and the women. The whites and straights, they control things, and they could have changed it anytime."
"Not all us whites and straights are in a position of power, or haven't you noticed?"
"Let's save this for next time we're on Meet The Nation or something."
"Gladly. I'm too cold to argue, and if I got up from here to kick your ass my foot would break off."
"Or I'd break it off for you. Now that's settled, let's get out of here before the World Savers get up."
Leonard looked at his watch. "It's six o'clock and I'm hungry. Paco said there's a pretty good place for breakfast in town."
"Maybe they got something here we could fix."
"Nothing in the fridge but a bag of uncooked spaghetti and three beers. Cabinets are mostly empty, except for some roaches."
We left without disturbing anyone, went out to Leonard's car, and it cranked after a scary moment of the starter Bendix clicking. As we drove away, I thought of Trudy and Howard in bed together and felt like Howard must have felt when she was with me.
Depressed.
I thought of them lying there, her waking up, giving herself to him before she got cleaned up and went off to work (wherever she worked) and he went to his job (if he had one). Then I imagined them coming home from a hard day, planning to steal money that was already stolen to use for some noble cause. Ozzie and Harriet of the sixties set.
I liked it. It was sweet. They were a great couple with high ideals.
I hoped it was so cold back there her vagina was frozen shut.
Sue me. I've got a juvenile streak.
Chapter 11
We drove in and found a little cafe called Bill's Kettle, the place Paco recommended. It hadn't been there when I was growing up. Back then that spot had been a magazine and cigar store. The lady who ran it used to let me read comics off the rack and not buy them. I was the only one she let do that.
The building the cafe was in, though it had to be considerably younger than the one the magazine store had occupied, looked much older. It appeared to be held up with nothing more than the smoke and grease from the kitchen. The huge plate glass was so grimy you could hardly see movement behind it. Someone had made an attempt to wipe it clean on the outside but hadn't bothered rinsing the soap; it looked like the end result of a Halloween prank.
The inside looked no better. The floors were scuffed and dirty and tables had been poorly wiped. There were two men at one table eating. They eyed us and nodded as we came in. In the back a young man sat staring into space, sipping coffee.
There was a fat blond woman in thinning green stretch pants at the counter. She gave us a quick glance and went back to her coffee and cigarette, said something to the thin, oily-headed man behind the counter. He managed a laugh, like a leukemia patient trying to be cheery.
We sat and kept our arms off the table. The fat blond woman got down off the stool and came over with menus. Pretty sneaky, the help blending in with the clientele that way.