That night Silver went home early, long before midnight. Rudy accepted Silver’s invitation to walk back to the apartment with him; he was surprised that after two years Silver had suddenly decided to be more sociable, but he never guessed that Silver didn’t want to walk home alone and that his own block seemed dangerous to him, as foreign as Mars. In the apartment, Rudy took out some of the cocaine he had just bought from Silver and separated the powder into long narrow rows on a plate. On this night Silver didn’t refuse the cocaine, on this night what Silver wanted least in the world was a thousand eyes. When Lee heard voices she threw on her robe and walked into the living room, to find Silver snorting cocaine.
“I don’t want any drugs in here,” she told her husband.
“Come on,” Rudy said to her. He introduced himself, he told her how pleased he was to finally meet Silver’s wife. “You live with this man,” he said, “there must be dope all over this house, you’ve got to be used to it by now.”
“That’s different,” Lee said. “There may be drugs in this house, but nobody uses them.” Lee had never cared what it was that Silver did to earn money, as long as she didn’t know the details. And so, Silver had never bothered to tell her where he went at night, he never mentioned that he had removed the floorboards under the bed so that each night Lee slept just above a cache of Quaaludes and hashish. “I’ve got a kid in there,” Lee said to Silver. She pointed to the bedroom door, she lowered her voice. “I’m not going to have him grow up in a house where drugs are used.”
Silver sat on the couch and lit a cigarette; Atlas came to sit by him and he stroked the collie’s head absently. “Go back to sleep,” he advised Lee.
“I’m telling you I don’t like it.” But as she spoke Lee saw there was no point in arguing; she watched Silver tap the ashes from his cigarette into a candy dish which had been a wedding present and she felt much older than the girl who had fallen in love with Silver; at least a century had passed since the night she had told him she was pregnant, that moment when she thought she was about to get everything she had always wanted.
“She doesn’t like it,” Silver mimicked. “Do you think I care?” he said to Lee. “Do you think I’m going to listen to a word you say?”
Lee went back to the bedroom, and before he left, Rudy congratulated Silver on knowing how to treat his woman. But if Rudy thought Silver was about to follow Lee into the bedroom and make love to her, he was wrong. Silver had decided to spend the night on the couch. He kept his boots on, he tried to envision the stranger’s face at El Calderon and couldn’t. He tried to sleep, but lay awake till morning. The collie paced through the apartment, his claws hit against the wooden floor like chains, the walls in the living room seemed to breathe. Silver found he was drawn to the window; he looked beyond the limits of the glass, certain that someone was out there, sure that any man who followed him had to be Angel Gregory. He wished that Teresa would come out of her room and assure him that Gregory had never really come to the house on Divisadero Street, or that perhaps she would give him a talisman—a scrap of her slip or a strand of hair—something to protect him from an invisible enemy, or at least give him courage.
But Teresa didn’t come out of her room on that or any other night, and Gregory never showed himself. There were only the endless nights of footsteps and the dark possibility of an attack, and by May Silver had become an insomniac. He began to buy large orders of amphetamines from Vallais, he drank more coffee than ever before, he lost weight and his cheekbones stood out like arrows. Silver was burning up, he couldn’t rest, couldn’t sit still for a minute. In the past he had never wanted to take Lee out, now he would agree to anything that would keep him moving—if he spent too long in any one room he started to pace as if bees followed him, ready to sting if he dared to slow down. It was clear to everyone who saw him: Silver was ready to explode. It was clear to everyone but Teresa. To her, Silver was always the same, forever that boy who wore clean white shirts and smelled like fire, the boy who would never be afraid of anything, not even on the day he led her to the reservoir and held her tight. She still couldn’t think of him as married; Lee and Jackie seemed like blond strangers who had somehow managed to slip into their lives. On the day of Lee and Silver’s wedding anniversary Teresa wanted to ignore all the time that had gone by, but Silver insisted they go out and celebrate, all three of them.
“Why does she have to go with us?” Lee whispered to her husband as she dressed to go to the Black Turtle, a restaurant Silver had always before told her was too expensive. Down the hall, Teresa was fastening the sapphire necklace around her throat, she fixed Dina’s tortoise-shell comb in her hair. “It’s our anniversary,” Lee said.
“Sure,” Silver said. “Go ahead. Ruin tonight before it’s even started.”
Lee knew that Silver was moving closer to the edge each day; one false move could leave the night shredded into thin strips of recriminations. She wished that she could erase Silver’s dark moods, that she could cool him with the touch of her palm to his forehead, and if being with his wife didn’t seem to be enough of a celebration, Lee certainly didn’t want his sister’s company to do any more. So it pleased her that Silver ignored both of them in the restaurant, that he shifted back and forth in his chair and drummed his fingers on the tabletop in a crazy rhythm and didn’t even bother to look across the table to where Teresa and Lee sat side by side. He ordered two tequilas and a beer before the waiter took their dinner order and in between the time when the waiter served the salads and brought over the steaks Silver couldn’t sit still any more; he got up and walked past the bar to the men’s room. There in the metal booth he smoked a joint, but his spirits didn’t lift. Everywhere he looked the walls seemed painted with a hundred shades of sorrow. On the way back to the table he felt dizzy, unsure of himself, and it was then, as he walked past the long mahogany bar, that he saw Angel Gregory, that too familiar stranger, the man who had been following him through the night for so many months.
Silver was so shaken that he didn’t dare stop; he went back to the table and sat with his back to the bar. He ordered another tequila and another beer. He tried to look casual, but when the steaks were served he couldn’t eat, he didn’t even bother to try. He looked over his shoulder; he couldn’t keep his eyes off Gregory. Teresa knew that something was wrong, and by the time the dessert menus were brought over she had spotted Gregory. She had allowed herself to forget Angel Gregory—she had forced herself to forget. If she even began to think about him, Santa Rosa seemed much too close; the scent of the river left a trail through every yard, crickets sang beneath a violet sky. She had not been with another man since that night, and oddly, when she saw Gregory at the bar she felt as if they had been together only hours before, as if he were still her lover. She blushed and couldn’t look at Silver, she felt as if she and Gregory had secrets to hide. That night in October, Teresa had been sure she had never known anyone quite so well as she knew Angel Gregory. She knew what he thought about first thing in the morning, what he dreamed about all night long, she knew that he couldn’t move any farther than one day in Santa Rosa when a boy betrayed him, a boy in a white shirt who had never been afraid of anything.
“Let’s go home,” Teresa said to her brother. “I don’t care what they say about this restaurant—it isn’t so great. I’m tired,” she whispered. “Let’s leave.”
“Not yet,” Lee said. She held up the dessert menu. “They have chocolate mousse here. They have rum cake with raisins.”
Teresa stared at Silver. “Please,” she said, “take me home.”
Not far away there was a man who drank bourbon and water, a man who had thought about Silver for so long he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had slit open his veins and found Silver’s blood inside. When he caught Silver’s eye, he nodded slowly, slowly and only once. And at the table, halfway across the room, Silver’s throat was dry.
“He’s been using psychology on me,” Silver said. “That’s what he’s been doing
all these months. Using a little psychology on me.”
“What are you talking about?” Lee said.
“Does it matter to you?” Silver said. “Does it concern you?” He lit a cigarette and faced the bar. “He’s blowing it now. He should have kept on creeping around in the dark, he should have waited, he could have made me crawl. Now that I see him I sure as shit am not afraid of him.”
Silver put his napkin down on the table; he stubbed out his cigarette without ever having taken a drag.
“Don’t go over there,” Teresa said. She was frightened of Gregory; he made everything seem all wrong, he made Silver seem all wrong.
“What am I supposed to do?” Silver said. He stood up and his shadow fell over the linen tablecloth, it fell across the gold-rimmed plates. “Run? Is that what I’m supposed to do?”
“Do you know what the hell is going on here?” Lee asked as Silver walked toward the bar. She noticed Gregory signal the bartender to bring him another drink. “Do I know that guy?” she asked.
Lee had sat at the same table with Gregory at the Dragon in Santa Rosa dozens of times, she had had drinks with him, and had listened to Silver complain about him night after night. But there were dim lights in the Dragon, lights meant to make it difficult to recognize anyone, and in those days Lee hadn’t seen anyone but Silver, she wouldn’t have thought to look at another man.
“He’s somebody from Santa Rosa,” Teresa said. She knew that Silver didn’t like Lee to know too much about his business, and so she called the waiter over. “Let’s order brandy,” Teresa suggested, hoping to distract her sister-in-law. “Let’s really celebrate your anniversary.”
At the bar, Silver sat down on a stool right next to Gregory and ordered a shot of tequila.
“You’re ordering tequila in a fancy place like this?” Gregory said. “Shame on you.”
Silver turned to the other man as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to be having a drink together. “Who let you out?” he asked.
“I served my time.” Gregory shrugged. “You saw to that.” He took a sip of his drink. “I see you’ve got Teresa with you.” He turned to look at her; Teresa was staring at him, just as she had on the night when they seemed like allies, like long-lost friends, both of them counting Silver’s betrayals, so many they were like stars in the sky. But now, when Gregory lifted his glass to her in a toast, Teresa quickly lowered her eyes. “She’s beautiful,” Gregory said. “But there’s one thing she’s not smart about—she’s loyal to you.” He looked Silver straight in the eye. He took a sip of his bourbon, and he waited, and finally he said, “She’s as loyal as a wife.”
Silver made certain that no part of him reacted. He finished his drink and put his glass down. When he stood up, he towered over Gregory. He kept his voice low, so that no one would hear. “If you keep looking at my sister I might have to do something to prevent it.”
“Oh?” Gregory smiled.
“I know what you’re doing. I know all about it. You’ve been using psychology. You’ve been following me, you’ve been trying to get on my nerves. Now all that’s over with. You’re going to quit it.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Gregory said. “I’ve been thinking about you night and day. Been thinking about you ever since I went to Vacaville. Now how do you expect me to stop? How do you expect me to quit that?”
“Yeah, well if you keep on following me, somebody’s going to get hurt,” Silver said, and he made certain there was the suggestion of knives in each word.
“That’s probably true,” Gregory agreed. “It’s certainly true.”
Up close, Gregory looked much older than Silver had remembered him. He was a man who had spent four years behind bars and it showed. Silver should have felt that he had the advantage, and he might have if Gregory had started a real fight, if he had come after Silver with a real weapon—a knife or a gun. But Gregory wasn’t making a move, he was calm as ice, he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and paid for Silver’s drink and his own. It was only the red dog on Gregory’s arm that seemed ready for blood, and that dog howled at a distant moon, that dog sent shivers down Silver’s spine.
“You want to pay me back?” Silver whispered. “You want to kill me? Come outside with me now. Let’s go right now and we’ll settle it.”
Gregory smiled and ordered another drink. “It doesn’t work that way. This time it’s when I say. This time I’m calling the shots, and you’ll never even know what hit you.”
“Oh yeah?” Silver said. He wished he had not had quite so much to drink because he felt unsteady and as inexperienced as he had years before when he had told Gregory about his first robbery, bragging about the two hundred dollars he had stolen. “Maybe I’m going to start to go after you. Maybe you’d better understand that if you keep on following me you’re the one who’s going to get hurt.”
“You try that, Silver,” Gregory said. “Just try and hurt me,” he whispered.
When Silver walked back to the table he felt exhausted, his legs buckled, his head was light and he blamed all the amphetamines he had been taking, and his sleepless nights.
“Let’s call it a night,” he said to Lee and Teresa.
Teresa pushed her coffee cup away and reached for her sweater. Gregory was watching her and she wanted to get out of the restaurant as quickly as possible; she was being torn in half, she felt as if crickets were winding their way through the strands of her hair, making her deaf with their song. Lee, however, wasn’t ready to go.
“I haven’t finished my brandy,” she said. When she lifted her glass to take another sip, Silver reached out and took hold of her hand. He brought the brandy glass back to the table so violently that it vibrated, and for a moment they were all certain the glass would break.
“Don’t embarrass me,” Silver whispered. He was amazed at how relieved he was when the glass didn’t break; the slightest accident could show Gregory how effective the time he had spent following Silver had been. “Get your coat,” Silver told Lee. “Do it now.”
“What did that man at the bar want?” Lee asked. “He sure knows how to put you in a bad mood.”
“Did you hear me?” Silver said. “Did you hear a fucking word I said to you?”
While Silver went to the parking lot to get the Camaro, Lee and Teresa waited outside the front door. Lee watched Silver walk away, then she took a cigarette from her purse.
“Some anniversary,” she said. She blew out smoke in short staccato breaths.
“He’s just tired,” Teresa said, but she had never seen Silver so rattled before. She wished that she could run back to the bar and beg Gregory to leave them alone, beg him to stop following Silver, to stop filling Teresa with doubt. But she was afraid of Gregory: afraid he would say no, afraid that once she sat down next to him at the bar he would tell her more than she wanted to know, and that Santa Rosa would appear before them—there, at the mahogany bar, the heat would become unbearable, the day would be blinding, hawks would drop their feathers beside the cold glasses of bourbon and ice.
“Don’t you tell me what my husband is,” Lee said to Teresa. “He’s not tired. He drank too much and now he’s just goddamned mean.”
When the Camaro’s headlights appeared, Lee threw her cigarette into the gutter; inside the car she continued to sulk. “What a terrific night. An anniversary I’ll always remember.”
“Don’t start up with me,” Silver warned her. “Don’t even think about it, Lee. Not tonight.”
Tonight, Silver felt ready to break; he wanted to rush back through the years and change nearly everything that had happened. He didn’t want to be a man who was celebrating his wedding anniversary, a man with responsibilities, and enemies, and lately with very little hope.
“You don’t care a thing about me,” Lee told him. “And you don’t care about Jackie, either. I’ll tell you what I think,” she added, glaring at Teresa, “I think Jackie’s allergic to that goddamned dog.” She turned back to Silver. “Ano
ther man would be concerned about his wife and son.”
“Another man,” Silver said. “Go on, go find another man. I’ll pay for your carfare. I’ll pack your bags.”
He looked in the rearview mirror; Gregory’s blue Ford wasn’t following them, but Teresa was staring at him, and once their eyes met Silver found he couldn’t look away; she was taking him back through time.
Silver nearly went through a red light, he stopped at the last minute, he didn’t notice that Lee had taken a cigarette from her purse until smoke had already begun to fill up the car.
“Put that out,” he said. “I’ve told you before—I don’t want you smoking.”
Lee ignored him, she inhaled furiously. “If you don’t care about me you don’t have the right to tell me what to do. I’m not your slave.”
Silver had been driving fast; now he stomped on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. Teresa wondered why Lee couldn’t tell that this was the worst possible night to start a fight with Silver, and sure enough he reached across and threw open the passenger door.
“Get out,” he said.
“You never tell me anything,” Lee said. “You never introduce me to your friends, you have your own secret life. Well, I can have my own life too, you know.”
“You want your own life?” Silver said. “First you wanted to get married, so I married you. Now you want your own life? You go ahead,” he told her. “You go right ahead.”
As always, Lee felt herself giving in. She thought about the nights when she had climbed out of her bedroom window to meet him, thought about his first kisses, the way every girl on the street turned to look at him.
“Put it out,” Silver said.
Lee reached over and killed her cigarette in the ashtray, then leaned back in her seat. This was where it usually ended—when she backed down from an argument, Silver would grimly ignore her and then she knew that the fight was over. But not this time; this time Silver didn’t cool down, this time he shoved her toward the door.
White Horses Page 20
