by Larry Watson
Edie smiles. “A lot has changed.”
“Truer words . . .” Roy leans forward to get a better look at something that’s no longer there. “Now am I remembering right? There used to be a little graveyard up here. Or not a graveyard, more like a couple headstones with an iron fence around them. It was all grown over. Jesus. Did I dream that?”
“You’re remembering right,” Edie says. “It was supposed to be the family plot of early settlers. The Campbells.”
“My God,” Roy says reverently. “It’s all coming back.” He turns around to address Lauren. “We used to drink and party up there on that hill. And more. It was our—what?—lovers’ lane? But that wasn’t what we called it.”
“Thrill Hill,” Edie says.
He shakes his head and laughs. “One night a bunch of us were up there drinking and scaring the shit out of each other with ghost stories. Some of the stories had to do with those graves. I can’t remember how it started, but the big dare was, would anyone go climb over that fence and kiss those gravestones? Only one person would take that dare and that was your grandmother.”
“I once kissed Wayne Hedrick,” says Edie. “Or should I say let him kiss me. If I was brave enough for that . . .”
Lauren asks, “Like how did you prove you did it?”
“I believe,” says Edie, “I had to leave lipstick on the stone.”
Lauren shudders. “Yech.”
“So that was your grandmother,” Roy says.
“Was it?” Lauren asks her grandmother. “Was that you?”
“If that’s how he remembers me,” Edie says with a shrug. Then she says, “The graves were moved when they put in the new road and built the apartments.”
They have almost arrived at the parking lot for the Custer Ridge apartment complex. Although the lot faces west, the sun has almost set, and the evening’s lengthening shadows will soon vanish in the dark.
“Who’s hungry?” Edie asks. She looks from Roy to Lauren and back to Roy. “We should go out for supper. My treat. What do you say? Lauren? We could go to Applebee’s. They have salads.”
“I’m not all that hungry, Grandma. That was like such a big lunch.”
“Roy? How about you? All you had was a piece of pie. And you didn’t have much breakfast.”
He shakes his head no. “I’ve still got over two hundred miles to travel.”
Roy parks next to Edie’s Honda Civic and says aloud what they all know. “Here we are.”
Edie reaches over and lightly lays her hand on Roy’s wrist. “Why don’t you stay the night? I don’t feel right about you spending hours more on the road. You’ve had a long day already. Stay. Give your back a rest. I’ve got room.”
After a long hesitation he says, “I better not.”
“Sure?” Edie says.
After another hesitation he says, “I’m sure.” He pushes a button that pops open the liftgate. “I’ll give you a hand with your things.”
The evening is warm, and though the wind here is almost calm, something still brings the sharp odor of sagebrush from the surrounding hillside.
Lauren has already begun taking her bags from the car. When Roy approaches she thrusts out her hand and says solemnly, “Thanks for everything, Mr. Linderman.”
He shakes her hand. “Don’t be giving your grandmother a hard time now. Young lady.”
Lauren laughs. “You have to come back,” she says, “after I get through with her makeover. You won’t even recognize her!”
“I don’t believe that’s possible,” he says.
WHILE EDIE HUNTS through her purse for her keys, Roy and Lauren wait patiently by the apartment door with their load of suitcases and bags. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Edie says. “I know I have them . . .”
“Take your time,” says Roy. He looks up and down the hall. “Are these all two-bedroom units?”
“What? Oh. No. Some of them are one-bedrooms. That’s what I wanted, but there weren’t any available when I was ready to sign a lease. So he let me have a two-bedroom for the same price.”
“You always were a skillful negotiator.”
“And,” she says, “I didn’t even have to flash an ankle.”
Roy turns to Lauren and says, “Your grandmother has always had very persuasive ankles.”
Lauren rolls her eyes.
“Here they are,” Edie says. She brings forth her keys and unlocks the apartment door.
The apartment isn’t completely dark, but the interior dimness is like the murky view from under water. Edie reaches for a light switch, but before her finger touches it a light flashes on in the kitchen.
Startled, she lurches back. And from out of the kitchen steps Jesse with Billy close behind.
“Hey, slowpokes!” Jesse says. “What the hell kept you?”
Lauren edges behind Roy and Edie.
Edie asks, “How did you get in here?”
Jesse holds up a key. “Did you really think,” he says, “you could send us out on the town with a key and I wouldn’t make a copy?” He shakes his head in mock sorrow. “You’re losing it, Grandma.”
“Did you look for us?” Billy asks Lauren.
She nods.
“We parked over behind the dumpsters.”
Roy’s anger has finally overridden his confusion and surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We didn’t even have to drive that fast to beat you,” Billy says.
“I’d like to say we came for a visit,” says Jesse. “You know, sit down, share a pizza and a beer. Shoot the shit. Take some time and get to know each other a little better. But that wouldn’t be the truth. We came to get Miss Lauren here and be on our way.” He points at Lauren with a wiggling index finger. “This’ll be easy won’t it, honey? You’re all ready to go. You won’t even have to pack up your things.”
Lauren has dropped her bags just inside the door, and at Jesse’s remark she starts to reach down.
“She’s not going with you,” Edie says.
“Oh no?”
“And you’re leaving right now,” says Edie, stepping in front of Lauren and her suitcase.
“If you say so.” Jesse’s smile grows wider and he turns his palms up. “But she’s going with us.”
The evening grows darker, the last light dying in the western sky too. Only the light from the kitchen doorway, like a cave’s open mouth, illuminates the apartment. These people however make no move to step out of the shadows.
“You can’t be here,” Edie says. “This is trespassing. And I’m calling the police.”
Jesse throws his arms in the air dramatically. “Oh no, Grandma. No, no! You can’t be doing that.” He takes a step back. He lifts his shirt, revealing not only his rib-skinny torso but also a pistol sticking out from the drooping waistband of his shorts. He pulls his shirt back down immediately.
“Wait!” Lauren says. “Wait! Fuck. Fuck!”
Roy has seen the gun as well. “Son of a bitch,” he whispers.
Jesse lets his arms dangle at his sides in imitation of a gunfighter’s stance. “What do you think?” he says to Roy. “Shall we see who’s quicker on the draw? Shoot it out over the women here? Go ahead. Go for it.”
“Billy,” Lauren says. “Billy. Do something!”
But Billy says nothing. He has become as much a spectator to his brother’s act as anyone.
Roy lifts his shirt. “I’m not carrying.”
Edie looks up at Roy. “What’s he talking about?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Jesse says. “The two of us played a little version of Let’s Make a Deal back at the farm.”
Edie continues to look beseechingly at Roy.
Jesse’s hoot violates the apartment’s quiet. “Ho-ho! Keeping secrets, are you, Roy?” Jesse flips up his shirt again and just as quickly pulls it back down. “That gun you were so upset about, Grandma? Your boyfriend here offered me so fucking much for it I couldn’t say no. But he put enough money in my pocket I could have bought a goddam
n arsenal.”
“Not quite,” Roy says.
“No? Well, old Garth was willing to sell me his pistol for about a tenth of what you paid me.” Jesse pats his waistband. “Of course it’s not the fancy fucking firearm you bought. But this’ll do. This sure as fuck will do.”
Lauren says, “Garth had a gun?”
“When Marilyn found out?” Billy says. “Whoo! She about shit. If it was up to her, he’d have given it away.”
“This is all true?” Edie asks Roy.
He nods.
“And where is it now?”
“In the car. In the glove box.”
Edie takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Is the car locked now?”
Roy nods again.
“Give me the keys.”
Roy shakes his head no.
“I mean it,” Edie says. “Give me the keys.”
Roy reaches into his pocket, takes out the keys, and holds them just out of her reach. “What the hell are you doing, Edie?”
“Why, I’m going out there for your gun. He’s got one”—she points to Jesse—“so we should have one too.”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse says to Edie, and he reaches to his waistband and pulls out the gun.
“What’s that?” Roy asks. “A Hi-Standard? Twenty-two long rifle?”
“Fuck if I know,” says Jesse. “But I believe my barrel’s longer than yours.” Jesse giggles at his own remark, but no one else acknowledges its humor.
“Sears used to sell that model. Good target pistol.”
Five people are clustered around the door as if they don’t quite know how to say good-bye. Edie keeps holding her hand out for Roy’s keys. Billy is trying to find a way to step in front of his brother and get close to Lauren. She in turn edges farther behind Roy Linderman.
“You keep trying to make conversation,” Jesse says to Roy, “and I haven’t got a fucking thing I want to say to you. And you got nothing to say I want to hear. Now, move away from that door, Grandma.”
While Roy is focused on Jesse, Edie grabs the keys from his hand. She turns and opens the apartment door.
Jesse waves his gun in her direction. “Hey, hey, hey, Grandma. Where do you think you’re going?”
“I told you. To get a gun.”
“Jesus-fucking-Christ! Do you not understand what the situation is here? I don’t want to have to shoot you!”
“You do what you have to,” she says. “But you better do it quick. Because if you don’t shoot me first I’m going out to the car to get that gun.”
Edie hesitates and then steps outside. She closes the door quietly behind her. Her footsteps make hollow thumps as she walks down the hallway.
“Fuck! Fuck!” To Roy he says, “What’s with her? Huh? Does she not care if she lives or dies? Is she fucking crazy?”
“Easy,” Roy says and makes a calming motion with his hands. “Easy. You don’t want to shoot anybody. Come on. Put it away.”
Jesse lunges toward Roy, raising the gun and jabbing it toward Roy’s head as if the weapon’s real threat were to poke out an eye. “See,” Jesse says, “that’s where you’re wrong. I want to shoot you. I want to shoot you so fucking bad I’m getting a hard-on just thinking about it!”
Roy raises his hand. “Okay, okay. But wait. Just wait. Hear me out. I’ve got another deal for you.”
“I bet you do. I just bet you do.”
“Laure,” Billy says, “Hey, Laure. Come on . . .”
She steps back and presses against the wall next to the door.
“You want to hear the deal,” Roy says to Jesse, “or not?”
“Make it fast. Because if she comes back here with a fucking gun in her hand, all hell is going to break loose.”
“You saw what I’m driving? The Highlander? That’s a 2007. Got a little over ten thousand miles. And I’m willing to swap it straight up for your—what are you driving? An Explorer?”
“Blazer.”
“A Blazer. All right. I’ll take your piece of shit Blazer off your hands. And you drive away in a damn near brand-new vehicle. But you drive away. Now. This offer expires the second that doorknob turns.”
Billy reaches out and lightly slaps his brother’s arm. “Hey, Jesse. What do you think? A new car’d be cool.”
“We can do the paperwork right here,” says Roy. “Registration is out in the car.”
Jesse cups his hand to his ear. “Do I hear her coming?”
“She’s not even your girl,” Roy says.
“He’s kind of right about that,” says Billy. “I should be the one—”
“Shut up.”
“We’ll just trade pink slips,” Roy says, putting a protective arm around Lauren, “and you can be on your way.”
“You shut up too!” Jesse points his finger at Roy as though for the moment he’s confused the finger with the gun barrel. “Go look out the balcony,” Jesse tells Billy. “See what the fuck she’s doing out there.”
“Going for the gun might have been bullshit,” says Roy. “She probably took the keys and drove off. I would.”
“So we ain’t getting his car,” Billy says.
“Grandma wouldn’t,” Lauren says.
“Go!” Jesse shouts at his brother.
Billy pushes aside the wide slats of the vertical blinds and slides open the balcony door. The parking lot lights have come on, and their pale light flashes weakly into the apartment. The wind rattles the blinds and makes a noise like cards being shuffled.
“Maybe you don’t have the title for your vehicle,” Roy says. “Fine. Not a problem. I’ll just sign the title over to you and hand over the keys, and you can drive off.”
“Do you ever fucking stop talking?” Jesse says to Roy. Then he calls out to Billy, “Well?”
“I can’t see her. Maybe she went out and called the cops. Huh, Jesse?”
“She didn’t take her purse.”
“Wait! She’s coming back!”
“And? Is she carrying the gun?”
“I can’t tell! Maybe . . .”
“Please, Jesse,” Lauren says. Her words are muffled as she speaks into Roy’s shoulder. “Please. Don’t, don’t. I’ll go with you. I’ll . . . Whatever you want.”
Roy pulls her closer.
“Get out of the way,” Jesse says as he steps toward the apartment door.
Roy is blocking Jesse’s path, but it’s Billy Roy speaks to. “Listen to me, Billy. You don’t want her this way. Not by force. I know what I’m talking about here. You don’t want a woman who doesn’t want you.”
The doorknob turns, and Roy presses back against the door with all his weight.
“Fuck, man,” Jesse says. “Get out of the way.”
But Edie has a strength or force that no one on the inside could anticipate or understand, and before Jesse can reach the door or Roy can let go of Lauren and brace himself even harder, Edie somehow manages to push her way inside.
And yes, yes, she has the gun, yes. She’s staring at it in her hand, an alien object, carried into her world from another, its dark shape looking as if it were formed from darkness itself.
She asks, “Is it loaded?”
The question could only be directed to Roy. “Yes,” he says. “Loaded and racked.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She turns the gun over in her hand, scrutinizing its surface. “Does it have a safety?”
It’s Jesse who answers her: “It’s ready. Just pull the trigger.”
He’s holding his own gun at his side. All of them—Jesse, Billy, Lauren, and Roy—stand perfectly still, a tableau, watching Edie as if her performance were about to begin.
And it does.
She raises the pistol with both hands and with her arms extended points the barrel at Jesse.
He flinches and holds a hand up in front of his face, but he comes back to himself quickly and he laughs. “You going to shoot me, Grandma?” He still has not raised his own pistol.
“I think so,” Edie says
.
“I think so too.” He points to the gun aimed at his head and to the hands holding it. “Look here,” he says. “You can’t have your hand up top like that. The slide’s going to come back and take a big fucking bite out of your hand.” Jesse looks to Roy. “I’m right, right? Tell her.”
“That’s right,” Roy says and reaches for her hand on the gun. “Here, let me—”
She jerks the gun away like a child unwilling to share a toy. And then she raises the pistol again, this time with one hand. Her aim at Jesse’s head is still steady.
“They’ll put you in jail, Grandma.”
“And they’ll bury you.”
Jesse is the one who can see Edie’s eyes. All he has to do—all he can’t help but do—is look beyond the gun barrel. Long ago her eyes lost the green shine of her youth. Now they’re the dusty green of late summer. But something has perhaps come back in the last few moments, and now they gleam darkly.
Is that what Jesse sees? Are Edie’s eyes more convincing, more persuasive, than the black round vacancy of the muzzle?
“Jesus-fucking-Christ, woman!” Jesse says. He lifts his T-shirt and returns the pistol to the waistband of his shorts. He sniffs and draws his shoulders back. “She ain’t worth it, you know. You’ll find that out, sure as hell.”
Then Jesse signals to his brother. “Saddle up, pardner,” he says, the joke dying in the darkening air. “We’re heading out of here.”
“In his car?”
“His car? Fuck no. His car. We don’t need his charity. We’re walking out of here of our own free will. Not because someone paid our way out the goddamn door.”
As the brothers move toward the door, Edie keeps the gun aimed at Jesse’s head and her finger on the trigger. Billy looks beseechingly at Lauren. He wants to say something. But words are lost to him, and he follows his brother out the door.
The second the door closes behind the Norris brothers, Edie drops the gun. It hits the floor with a thud, a sound that seems to reverberate through all the rooms of the apartment. Edie sinks to her hands and knees.
Lauren kneels beside her grandmother. “Grandma, Grandma. It’s okay. They’re gone. It’s okay.”
Roy picks up the pistol, holding it by its barrel as if it were a tool for hammering nails. He carries it to the coffee table and sets it down gently. Then he walks out to the balcony.
