The poor dumb one-eyed drunk seemed to shake his head. Or was that a nod? It didn’t matter— what was the question? The guy’s breath was so bad Wayne had to put him down. He saw the bartender coming over with a stern look.
“I’m okay, but give him one. Where’s your phone?”
The bartender was a big bald-headed guy in a plaid wool shirt. He hooked his thumb toward the back of the room.
Moving along the bar Wayne looked at his watch. Not yet five. He had hoped to call earlier and was anxious now, getting a quarter out of his pocket as he reached the phone booth, stepped inside and closed the door. He’d reverse the charge, no problem, Carmen would be home. He raised the quarter to drop it in the slot and an awful feeling came over him. It caused him to say out loud in the quiet confinement of the booth, “SHIT!”
He didn’t know the goddamn number.
It was in his mind last night when he was talking to Carmen, telling her how the operator wouldn’t help him—Write it down before you go to bed. He could remember telling himself that. And forgot to do it.
Wayne looked in his wallet. He had the number of Cape Barge Line. But they didn’t have his. He didn’t have a phone when he had filled out the job application. What he did have was the office number of the U.S. Marshals Service. They’d have his—if that moron Ferris wrote it down. It was almost five. Wayne could see the moron and his secretary leaving for the day, the door swings closed and the phone starts ringing. He had about five minutes. But first he’d have to get change at the bar. He couldn’t imagine Ferris accepting a collect call.
Carmen packed all the clothes her big canvas suitcase would hold and put it inside the pickup on the seat. She would have to come back sometime for the rest of her things, but wasn’t going to worry about that now. Her plan was to leave at five. If Wayne didn’t call by then she’d write a note and tape it to the refrigerator. Ferris could walk in and read it if he wanted, it wouldn’t matter, she’d be gone. She felt less edgy with the keys in her hand and her bag in the truck. She had enough money for gas. What else? She got her navy wool coat out of the closet, and a sweater she hadn’t packed and took them out to the pickup. Coming back into the house she heard the phone ringing and thought of Ferris.
“How’re you doing, honey?”
“Wayne?”
“I’m gone one day and you don’t know who I am. We were late getting in on account of fog. You run a bridge you have to see where you’re going.”
Carmen stood in the middle of the kitchen with the phone, looking into the living room.
“Where are you?”
“Cairo, but I’m coming home soon as I can catch a tow. Probably get back tomorrow morning, early.”
It surprised her and she was curious—even as she continued to stare at the front window.
“You said you’d be gone three days.”
“Well . . . I’ll tell you about it when I get back, but you know what the thing was that turned me off. Don’t laugh, but you have to wear a life preserver. I never wore a safety line on the job—you know I’m not gonna work someplace you have to wear a life preserver. These guys talk about falling overboard, shit, they don’t know what a fall is. It was okay, I had a pretty good time. Now I’m gonna go look for a ride.”
“Wayne, I won’t be here when you get back.” She said it fast. “Mom’s sick, I have to go take care of her.”
“Your mom? Your mom’s always sick. Jesus, what’s the matter now?”
“Her back, she can’t move.”
“That woman snaps her finger, you jump. Jesus Christ, don’t you know she’s using you?”
“Wayne, I’m going.”
There was a silence.
“All right, listen, I’ll leave right this minute. You can wait till tomorrow morning, can’t you?”
“I want to get out of here,” Carmen said, staring at that front window. “I waited all afternoon for you to call. I’m packed now, ready to go.”
“I forgot to write down the number. I had to call Ferris.”
“Oh, shit, you didn’t. I’m leaving, right now.”
“Wait a minute, will you? Did he come in the house again?”
“He’s been driving by all day, sneaking around. If he knows I’m alone—he could be on his way right now.”
“His girl said he was out on the job.”
“Wayne, I have trouble telling you things you don’t want to hear or you don’t believe. This guy, this creep, is after me. He walks in the house and thinks he can do anything he wants. Do you understand that? He has told me he’s coming by when you’re not home. Now do you want me to stay and wait for him?”
“I’ll call him up.”
“Wayne, I’m walking out of the house. I’m leaving right this minute.”
There was a silence.
“All right, then I’ll see you at home. I mean our real home. Yeah, that’s fine with me, I’m ready. I’ll see you tomorrow. It’ll be later, but I’ll see you. . . . You found the keys, huh?”
“Yeah, I found them.”
“I knew you would.”
“Wayne, I’ll most likely be at Mother’s.”
There was a silence again.
“Well, if you are, I’ll see you at your mom’s,” Wayne said. “That’s how much I miss you.”
This was a low-life place but comfortable, a workingman’s bar; the only thing different about it was the pizza smell. The guys, though, could be in any trade. Wayne looked around, but didn’t see the mate anywhere. The bartender brought him a shell of beer and Wayne said, “You know of anybody in here’s on a boat going north?”
The bartender said, “I look like a travel agent? Ask around.”
He started to move away, the size of him making a slow turn, and Wayne said, “Wait a minute. Where’s the bag was sitting here?”
The bartender looked over his shoulder at him. “Your buddy took it.”
“That was my bag,” Wayne said. “That wasn’t his.”
The bartender came around to face him. “He’s into you for the drinks too. Four dollars and eighty cents.”
“I went to make a phone call, I said give him one.”
The bartender said, “Are you gonna be trouble?”
***
Carmen made a sandwich, fast, to take with her. She put the meat loaf back in the refrigerator and stood there with the door open looking in at the milk that would sour, the food that would spoil, grow a furry white mold and smell awful, remembering the odor when she opened the refrigerator that first night in the dark, in candlelight, Ferris saying the woman wasn’t much of a housekeeper . . .
She slammed the door closed, amazed at herself, worrying about food spoiling, leaving a mess, when she had to get out of here right now. She’d let Wayne take care of it, but would have to remind him, leave a note. Going to the breakfast table she began composing it in her mind. Unplug the fridge, throw everything out, leave the door open ...Be careful with my nice car, I’ll try not to wreck the truck. See you late tomorrow. Love ...No, I love you . . .
The phone rang.
Carmen jumped and stood rigid, because she knew it was Ferris. It could be Wayne, but it wasn’t, it was Ferris. She said, Yeah, it has to be. And began to relax then, wanting it to be Ferris, Ferris somewhere else, not here or on the way. She did, thinking about it as the phone rang, she wanted it to be Ferris and felt so sure it was, and so confident about herself at the same time, that she picked up the receiver and said, “Ferris?”