Gentry had to walk past the room to get his bags. As he passed, he could hear Clyde’s voice, deep and angry, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Gentry wanted to kick the door in, stomp down on Clyde’s head until it resembled a deflated basketball, lift Emma up into his arms, and ride off into the sunset with her.
But he walked right past the door instead, grabbed his things, and then headed toward the front door so he could sit with Ben, try and calm his friend down.
He figured he would just have to piss behind a tree.
***
Emma ran her nails through Clyde’s hair, cradling his head in her lap. “It’s not your fault, baby. Shhh.”
Clyde grabbed fistfuls of her shirt, sobbed into her belly. He kept repeating the same shit over and over again, but Emma couldn’t figure out what he was saying. His words were slurred and slobbery, and the only thing she could make out was the word Dad.
Emma just kept shushing him, kept rocking him. She searched the room for something sharp she could jab into the base of his skull, which was a game she often played. She didn’t know what was worse: when he yelled or when he cried. The crying shit could last all day, and she would be stuck there, mothering him, telling him how nothing is his fault, how everything will be okay. At least when he was pissed off, he could hit her once, then burn off, just like he always did. She might get a bruise, a broken bone, but at least she’d have some time to herself, a little peace.
“Maybe we should just stay home, hm? Maybe it’s not a good time for a trip.”
He sat up then, wiped the snot from his nose. His eyes were so puffy and red they looked like cooked crab meat, and just for a second, Clyde resembled the little boy Emma had seen in the pictures on the walls. But just for a second.
“What?”
Emma scooted away from him, but just a few inches. “I’m just saying. If you’re not up to it, we can just stay home. That’s all.”
“Why wouldn’t I be up to it? You have any fuckin’ idea what this trip means to me?” He jabbed her in the forehead hard with his fore and middle fingers. “Do you?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Nah, you wouldn’t. You ain’t no family girl, that’s why. Me? My family comes first. That’s why the fuck I’m doin’ what I’m doin’! You hear me? My family fuckin’ needs me!”
Your family hates your fucking guts.
Emma didn’t know what hurt the family more: their father’s death or Clyde’s life.
Emma felt partially responsible, though. It was her mom that approached Clyde about it. Wanted to know if he knew where to get the shit. At the time, Clyde was only selling weed. Nothing major, just a little bit here and there to the other kids. As fucked up as it sounded, times were good then.
It didn’t take Clyde long to find the meth. Once he saw how good the money was, he talked about it with Emma, how he could still keep it small, make them some money. Emma didn’t like it, told him so, and he agreed, though she was pretty sure he was selling it on the side anyway, mostly to her own mother.
Once Clyde’s dad died, Clyde got it into his head that he was the man of the house now, that it was up to him to provide for his family.
“It’ll be easy,” he said. “Then my mom, she don’t have to worry about no bills.”
Emma was pretty damn certain that his mother never saw a dime of that money, not that she would have taken it anyway. But still, Clyde insisted he couldn’t stop selling it. Emma thought he might have been so fucked in the head that he actually convinced himself that he was helping his family somehow.
“I only do a little bit,” he had said when Emma told him to at least stop using the stuff. “Just to make sure my product is good, you know?”
Clyde stood, paced the room. “We’re goin’ to see my uncle. My dad’s brother. There ain’t a fuckin’ thing in the world that’s gonna stop me from doin’ that, you hear me?”
“Clyde,” Emma said, and stood up, walked to him. He tried to flinch away from her, but she wrapped her arms around him anyway. He let her, and almost immediately, he was in cry mode again. “Nobody’s trying to keep you from doing anything. Come here, baby.”
She pulled him back to the bed on top of her. He continued to cry as he pulled her shirt over her head. A droplet of snot stretched from his nostril and puddled on her belly. Her pants came off next, tears sliding over her thighs.
Emma closed her eyes as he entered her.
We’re going on this trip, she thought. But I’m not coming back.
***
Cobb honked his horn twice, and within a minute, Manuel was walking out. He had a bag in each hand and a tightly rolled blunt in his mouth.
“Wake and bake?” Manuel said as he tossed the bags in the back and sat down in the passenger seat.
“You even have to ask?” Cobb let the windows down as Manuel lit the blunt, and started toward Ben’s house.
“You think he’s really comin’? Clyde?” Manuel said as smoke rolled from his mouth. He passed the weed to Cobb.
“Ben didn’t say anything about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I mean, it’s his uncle too, right? Makes sense to me he’d be coming along.” Cobb blew the smoke out the window. “But I sure hope he flakes out.”
“You think he’s gonna fuck with us? Because of last night?” Manuel couldn’t keep his hands still, kept adjusting his glasses, his eyes directed at the air conditioning vent. “Maybe he won’t even remember that shit happened. You think he will?”
“How the fuck should I know? Even if he does, it won’t matter. There’s four of us, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right. He can’t fight us all. We could smash his ass if he tries anything.”
“Besides, we’re the ones with the secret. I’ll tell Emma in a heartbeat if he tries anything. Bet I won’t.”
Manuel smiled, took the blunt back, put it to his lips. “That’s right. Shit, if anything, he’ll probably be kissin’ our asses, right? He wants his secret to stay a secret he will anyway. Right?”
“Maybe we should focus more on Ben than Clyde, all right?”
“Ben? Why would we be scared of Ben?”
“Give me that shit.” Cobb swiped the blunt from Manuel’s mouth, took one more hit, then put it out in the plastic ashtray. “You’re retarded enough already, and we got a long drive ahead.”
“I’ve killed people for less than that.”
“What I meant was, Ben asked us on this trip for a reason. Not just to go fishing and have fun, but for moral support, man. At least that’s what I figure.”
Manuel just shrugged, adjusted his glasses again.
“He might be okay, but shit might get emotional. If it does, Ben’s gonna need us. Especially now that Clyde’s coming along too.”
“Don’t worry, man. I’ll be cool. Ben needs me, I’ll be there.”
When Cobb swung onto Ben’s street, Ben and Gentry were sitting on the curb outside, and Cobb could tell right away that Ben had been crying. Ben’s face was red, eyes puffy, but as soon as he saw Cobb’s car, he wiped his face off and stood. Gentry patted him on the back one time.
Cobb parked on the curb in front of the house, killed the engine, and hopped out.
“Morning, boys,” Cobb said as he slapped hands with Ben and Gentry. “Everything cool?”
Gentry shot Cobb a quick look, slightly shook his head.
“What up, bitches!” Manuel said. “Y’all ready for this shit, or what? I’m gonna catch a whale and live inside that motherfucker like Pinocchio.”
“You’re retarded,” Cobb said. “And it was Geppetto.”
“Geppetto? I’m talkin’ about Pinocchio. You know, the little wooden motherfucker who gets a face boner anytime he’s not honest?”
“Jesus, you’re dumb. It was…never mind.”
“I’m for real. I’ll make that shit tight. I’ll be the first pimp under the sea with a whole gang of little mermaids. Y’all holler at me if you want some of that filet o’ fish, you he
ard me?”
“You fuckers are high already?” Ben said. “Y’all smell like Cheech and Chong.”
“Breakfast of champions, baby,” Manuel said.
Gentry shot Cobb another look, and all Cobb could do was smile and shrug.
“Well, good,” Ben said, and they all turned their attention toward him. “I need a hit. You got any more?”
“Ben,” Gentry started.
“Fuck it. I’m on vacation. And my vacation starts now.”
“Can’t argue with that, can you?” Cobb said to Gentry.
“I’ll drive,” Gentry said.
Manuel put his arm around Ben’s neck. “In the meantime, my boy Cobb here can suck a dick like a large mouth bass.”
***
The drive went by fast, and before they knew it, they were rolling into Palacios, Texas. It had only taken maybe six hours total, including the many piss stops they had to make for Manuel, who explained that he could piss in his empty Gatorade bottle if they didn’t want to stop so often.
“Or I can hang my dick out the window, make all the cars behind us use their windshield wipers. I don’t wanna get a bug up my dickhole, though.”
“We’ll stop, dude. Just quit drinking so much,” Gentry had said.
Ben, Cobb, and Manuel had smoked at least four joints and a few bowls during the drive, damn near hot boxing the car completely. It wasn’t until they were about halfway there that Gentry had noticed the expired registration and inspection stickers, and he rolled every window all the way down to clear the odor.
“I guess it just slipped my mind,” Cobb said when Gentry pointed out the stickers.
Gentry was relieved when they finally passed the sign that read ‘Welcome to Palacios.’ To their left was the Gulf of Mexico, the water the color of pea soup. They drove by more docks and jetties than houses, it seemed, and Gentry could tell instantly that fishing was everything in this small town.
And Ben’s dad’s side of the family all came from this place? No wonder his dad wanted to get out of here.
Gentry couldn’t imagine living in a place like Palacios, figured he would go crazy or kill himself out of boredom if he was stuck here.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Ben said, hanging his head out the window like a dog. “Look at this place, man. What is it, population of ten?”
“Nope, there goes number eleven right there.” Manuel pointed to an elderly man walking down the street alone. A fishing pole in one hand, tackle box in the other. He stared at them as they drove by, and Gentry couldn’t help but expect a scowl or a ‘We don’t like yer kind ‘round here,’ but instead, the old man smiled, tucked his fishing pole under his arm so he could wave.
“Notice how its mouth curves upward, the way its arm moves back and forth. Beautiful,” Cobb said in his best Australian accent. “We call this the friendly human. The most rare of all the species.”
“Let’s kill it!” Manuel shouted.
“Will y’all shut up? He heard you.” Gentry checked the rearview as they drove away, but the old man was still waving, then finally continued walking in the opposite direction.
“Y’all believe this is where my dad grew up?” Ben pulled back into the car, smiling wide. “I don’t know, I think maybe I would have liked it here.”
Gentry followed the GPS, took a right turn that led into a small neighborhood. Each house stood on wooden stilts, made it look like a community of tree houses.
“What’s the deal with that?” Cobb said, pointing to the wooden pillars.
“For floods,” Gentry said. “Saw it on the Travel channel. Different place, but I’m sure it’s for the same thing.”
Ben stared out the window, no longer talking, not even smiling anymore. He watched as the houses zoomed by, a few people, each one of them smiling and waving. Gentry figured his friend was doing his best to picture his father as a child, running through these very streets with his uncle. Maybe trying to imagine himself in this place, being born here, raised here, just like everyone else on his father’s side. Though Palacios seemed like hell to Gentry, he knew there was probably more to it than it seemed. And with so much history there, he knew Ben probably couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like if he grew up here.
“I haven’t seen a single girl yet,” Manuel said. “Y’all figure they fuck dolphins in the blowhole around here? Always wondered what that would feel like.”
“Dolphins are okay. But you know what they say,” Cobb said. “Once you go porpoise—”
“Will you fuckers please shut the fuck up?” Ben said, never taking his eyes off the homes as they drove by them.
Gentry locked eyes with Cobb in the rearview, and Cobb just shrugged. Gentry shook his head. The rest of the ride was silent, though it only took another couple of minutes to arrive.
“We’re here,” Gentry said as he checked the address on his phone again, then again at the small house in front of them.
Ben stepped out of the car, leaned against the passenger door as he stared at the house. Gentry quickly turned in his seat to face Cobb and Manuel.
“Hey, man,” Cobb said. “I didn’t mean to offend him or anything.”
“Me neither. Just fuckin’ around like we always do.” Manuel bit his lip and crossed his arms.
“I’m not worried about that right now,” Gentry said. “I figured he might be kind of up and down this weekend. A lot of emotional shit, you know?”
Cobb and Manuel nodded, both glancing at Ben’s backside through the window.
“I’m worried about something else, though. Or someone else.”
“Clyde?” Manuel said, and then was elbowed by Cobb. “Ow! What the fuck?”
Cobb didn’t say anything, just sort of widened his eyes, then tried to smile at Gentry as if he didn’t notice.
“How’d y’all find out? Ben call you this morning or something?”
Cobb sighed, checked the window again as if to make sure Ben was still occupied. “Last night, man. Me and Manuel, we hooked up with Clyde. You know, for the greenery.”
“He was puttin’ the dick to Emma’s mom,” Manuel said, smiling, then realized he may have spoken too loud, leaned in closer to Gentry and shoved his glasses back up his nose with his thumb. “For real, though. We saw her. Naked. Pussy was so hairy, I swear I saw an afro pick stuck in there.”
“Are y’all serious?” Gentry had to do his best not to smile. He was already formulating his plan on how to tell Emma about this.
“He gave us that weed for free, said we can’t say shit about it,” Cobb said. “That’s when he told us he was coming out on this trip.”
“Tell him about the other bag,” Manuel said.
Just then, the front door on the house swung open, and a middle-aged man stepped out onto the porch, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked a lot like Ben’s dad, only shorter, skinnier. His face was red, weathered, the lines deep like cuts on his forehead and around his eyes. The man spat once to the side, then smiled, opened his arms as he approached the car.
Ben squatted down far enough so he could peer into the car, that smile back on his face again. He waved them out once, then strolled toward his uncle.
“Hurry. What other bag?” Gentry said.
“I’ve only seen the shit on TV before, but I think it was meth,” Cobb said. “Had it stuck inside the weed bag. We found it, tossed that shit out the window. You know Clyde was on that shit?”
“Ben told me.”
“Where is Clyde anyway?” Cobb said. “Please tell me he decided to stay home.”
Ben was facing the car, eyebrows arched, hands out to his side.
“Later,” Gentry said, then hopped out and quickly made his way toward Ben and his uncle.
“Gentry,” Ben said as he placed his hand on Gentry’s shoulder. “This is my Uncle Pete.”
“Hello, sir,” Gentry said, and shook hands with the man, doing his best to match the firm, strong grip. “Can’t wait for the fishing trip tomorrow.”
>
“That right?” Pete said as he took a long drag from his hand-rolled cigarette. Then he spat into his palm, put the butt out on it with a hissing sound. “Believe me, boys. You won’t ever forget it.”
—5—
“You boys be all right here a while?” Pete had said. “Need to head on out to the boat, make sure we’re set on tackle and bait.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ben had said. “Need some help?”
“No. You kids enjoy yourselves, now. You have a few drinks, I swear I won’t tell your mama. But don’t party too hard. Tomorrow, y’all asses are up before the sun, you hear me?”
That had been a couple of hours ago, and Ben and Gentry sat on the balcony drinking a couple of beers, staring out at the ocean as it crashed in the distance. The sun was just starting to go down, dipping into the sea like an orange bobber floating on the surface. Cobb and Manuel wanted to get high, so the two of them went out to take a walk down the beach.
“You doing all right?” Gentry said.
Ben grinned, nodded, took a swig from his beer. His eyes were on the ocean. “I’m good. I really am. It feels good to be here.”
“So your dad grew up in this house?”
“Yeah. My grandpa built it back in the day. It was supposed to be my dad’s, or that’s what he told me once. Isn’t that weird? I could’ve spent my childhood in here.”
“Think you would have liked that?”
Ben chuckled, finished his beer. “Don’t say anything. But fuck no. This place is a dump, isn’t it? And the town? Shit, man, no wonder my dad ran off first chance he could. You notice it smells like fish outside?”
“I did notice that, yeah. Didn’t want to say anything.” Gentry took a sip from his beer, but he had let it get warm, and he grimaced as he forced the liquid down.
“I’m still glad I’m here now, though. Just to see it. Finally meet my uncle. He seems all right, don’t he?”
“Seems cool to me. He’s letting us drink beer, isn’t he?”
“That he is. Speaking of which, you need another one?”
Parasite Deep Page 7
