There was a sudden hard wave of rain. It washed over the house in a torrent, sounded goddamn spooky. Charlie looked at the ceiling, as if he might actually see the rain pounding the roof, said, "God, it keeps coming and no end in sight. Think this rain'll ever stop?"
I shook my head. "No, Charlie. I don't."
Chapter 26
I didn't call Leonard after Charlie left. I didn't call him all that day, and didn't call him the next either. I sat with my gun and went through my routine. I thought about what Charlie had said and got real mad, then realized he was closer to the truth than I wanted to believe.
It wasn't Raul that was between me and Leonard, it was us. We had not only recognized that we were not invincible, we had experienced real fear, and we each knew the other was frightened. It wasn't the first time. We've always been honest about being scared, but this time it was beyond fear in the normal way. It was helplessness. Not being anywhere near in control.
Goddamn Charlie and his Kmart shoes and his shadow fingers and his wife who wouldn't give him pussy. Goddamn everything about that sonofabitch.
Four mornings after Charlie came to visit, I went into the kitchen, purposely without my gun, took the phone off the wall, sat down at the table with it and dialed Leonard's number.
Raul answered. I asked for Leonard.
"Hap," Leonard said when he came on the line. "Good to hear from you, man."
"Have you been as fucked up as me?"
"I don't know how fucked up you've been, but I've been fucked up. Come over for lunch."
"I been wanting to see you, but ... I haven't been . . . you know?"
"Yeah. Come over."
I heard Raul say in the background, "We got plans, Lenny. Remember?"
"Come on over," Leonard said.
Eleven that morning, the rain still coming down, the sky atwist with savage storm, I got all the money I had in the cookie jar—about fifty dollars—and left out of there with my revolver stuffed in the glove box of my truck. I drove to town and the hospital, went in without my revolver, found where Hanson was. I rode the elevator up, pushed open the door to his room.
It smelled bad in there. That creepy hospital smell that's somewhere between disinfectant, illness, and that funky food they serve. The two days I had been in had been bad enough, but poor Hanson. Jesus.
Hanson was hooked up like a spaceman, bristling with tubes and wires. His bed was cranked up slightly toward a television that was going, and on the other side of the bed, sitting in a chair, was a young black woman. She was lean and attractive, looked to be in her late twenties. I assumed she was his daughter, JoAnna. She lifted her head, gave a little smile.
"Hello," she said. Her voice was soft, but it had a little gravel in it. I didn't know if that was the nature of her voice, or the nature of her mood. I went on in and introduced myself. She half stood, reached across the bed, shook my hand and gave her name and relation. She was, as I thought, JoAnna.
Hanson had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily. He didn't know I was there, or that the TV was going, or that ducks quacked and dogs barked. His head was bandaged thickly and he'd lost a lot of weight and looked easily twenty years older. Had I not known it was Hanson, I wouldn't have recognized him.
"How is he?" I asked. It was stupid, but I just didn't know anything else to say.
"Not good. We're taking him home though."
"That ought to help."
"Yeah."
"I was here . . . this way, I'd want to go home."
"Yeah."
"He leaving soon?"
"Tomorrow. If the doctor says okay. They can't do anything for him here. I think they want him out, make room for another patient. I guess they're right. He's not going to get better, someone else might." -
"Well, you never know. Some people, they get in a bad way like this, they come out of it. He's tough. He could do it."
"Yeah. I guess."
I looked at the television. It was a Gunsmoke rerun. An old one, when Dennis Weaver played Chester. I kept looking at it, 'cause I couldn't look at Hanson, and JoAnna's face, so sad, so brave, made me ache. Not just for Hanson, but for myself, Leonard, everybody.
"You live in LaBorde?" I asked.
"Tyler."
"What do you do there?"
"Teach school."
"Yeah, well, you take care."
"Sure. Thanks for coming in, Mr. Collins."
I looked at the television. "I've seen this one."
"Yeah. I never watched Westerns. Daddy loved them."
"Yeah, well, me too. You take care, now."
"I will."
"You need anything I can help with, you tell Charlie and he'll get in touch with me. Hap Collins."
"Yes sir.”
"Just Hap."
"Okay, Hap”
"Bye.”
"Bye."
Yeah, call ole Hap, he was sure a helper, a big fixer. I went out of there and along the hall and the smell of the hospital was stronger than ever.
I drove over to Leonard's. The crack house had not been replaced. It was just a black spot splattered by rain.
I knocked on the door and Leonard answered. He was wearing a heavy coat and his face was puffy and marked with bruises and some stitches the vet should have put in but wouldn't, but the LaBorde doctor had.
He looked better though. He walked pretty well. He said, "You ole bastard," and threw open the screen and we hugged. We hugged hard and long, patting each other on the back.
"I've missed you," he said.
"Man, I feel like a fruit, hugging a fruit."
Leonard laughed. "Come in, buddy."
I came in. Raul looked at me, tried to smile, but he wasn't glad to see me. He was also wearing a coat, which surprised me. The house was warm. Leonard didn't pay Raul any mind. He said, "I'm cooking out back, come on."
"In the rain?”
"Nope. Come on. Leave your coat on."
Leonard limped a little as he went. I followed through the kitchen, onto the back porch, or where it used to be. There was a big screened-in porch now with a concrete floor. The rain was blasting on the roof and some of it was blowing through the screen. It was cold out there. In the middle of the porch was a cooker and it was smoking with hamburgers and hot dogs.
"This is nice," I said. "I didn't know this was here."
"I started it before we went to Grovetown, before all this goddammit rain started. You spent the night here, I meant to show it to you. But my mind wasn't on it and you didn't go out the back way, so it never got mentioned. What do you think? Needs some touches yet, but I like it. It'll be nice in the summer. Wire's thick enough to keep the big bugs out. Skeeters'll get in though. They can get through anything."
"That's the truth. What about the two guys with the bowling ball heads?”
"Clinton and Leon. Guess they're all right. They were here while I was in the hospital. Those fellas are all right, provided you don't have to spend more than thirty minutes at a stretch with them."
"So no trouble while you were gone."
"Leon sat on the commode and it fell through the floor with him. I talked to him on the phone at the hospital. He and Clinton got some lumber and fixed the flooring. It was old and rotten under there. Only complaint Leon had was that when he fell through the commode overturned and he got shit on him."
Raul came out. He had his hands in his pockets and looked cold. He said, "I told Leonard this wasn't cookout weather, even on the porch, but he wouldn't listen. You don't listen to me, do you, Lenny?"
"Nope," Leonard said, and smiled.
"He doesn't listen to anybody but you, Hap. He listens to you."
"Raul," Leonard warned.
"Oh yeah, I don't want to embarrass you in front of Hap. Anybody but him."
"Let's don't start," Leonard said.
Raul turned and went back inside.
I said, "I shouldn't have come."
"Yeah, you should. Here, help me carry this stuff in."
We ate in the kitchen. Raul joined us, but he wasn't exactly talky. When Leonard paused to go to the facilities, I said, "Raul, I didn't mean to cause trouble.”