Fender Lizards

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “Here’s what I see,” the judge said. “Folks on this girl’s side of the room. Including a sister who looks like she’s a lot worse off than this boy as far as a beating goes. But I don’t see anyone on this boy’s side of the room, besides you, Jim. And to tell you the truth, I don’t consider that a high recommendation.”

  “That’s not fair, judge,” the lawyer said.

  “Life is just full of unfairness,” she said. “Here’s my ruling. You, son, are going to drop all charges, because I think you’re a bully and a creep. I think that because you have come into my court and you’ve been drinking, and your lawyer has been drinking. Six feet away your breath is curling the hair on the back of my neck.”

  “Judge,” the lawyer said, “you can’t just decide we’ve been drinking.”

  “I can get a breathalyzer and make this even worse for the two of you, or you can accept what I say. Tell me out loud. Have you been drinking? And if you say no, then we bring in a breathalyzer.”

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “I had a little nip with breakfast.”

  The judge looked at Tim.

  “I reckon I had a little nip at breakfast too.”

  “Were the two of you together when you had this little nip?” the judge asked.

  They nodded.

  “Uh-huh. Here’s how it is. Charges are dropped. But,” and she turned her attention to me. “Young lady, much as I despise a man that will strike a woman, you really can’t go around sneaking up on people with a board. Even if they are a coward and a bully and a liar. Hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “I’m going to give you a stretch of probation,” she said. “A week where every morning you go out to the Marvel Creek Dog Rescue and clean up after the dogs.”

  “But I have a job,” I said.

  “That does present a problem,” the judge said. “But, it’s not my problem. You be there. One week. Two hours every morning. Ten to noon. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  Tim’s lawyer cleared his throat.

  “Yes,” the judge said.

  “What about parental rights?” the lawyer said.

  “What about them,” the judge said.

  “Tim should have the right to visit his child,” he said.

  “I’m going to rule no for awhile,” the judge said. “Until his girlfriend heals up, then you can come back to court and we’ll see what we can arrange. In the meantime, young man, don’t go near this lady. You hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tim said.

  “You do,” the judge said, “you may find yourself wearing a nice orange jumpsuit provided by the county. Got me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tim said.

  “Good,” said the judge, and not having a gavel, slapped her hand on the table. “Court adjourned.” She got up. The court reporter who was recording it all got up and tucked the machine under his arm. He and the judge went out together. Tim and his drunk lawyer went out quickly, not looking at anyone.

  The bailiff sighed like he was taking his last breath, and went out. The rest of us waited a moment, and then we left.

  (15)

  I went out mornings to the Marvel Creek Dog Rescue and scooped up dog poop in the concrete runs with a little lidded shovel on a long handle.

  The runs had fencing on the sides, and on one end the runs went into a large building. On the other end they went outside. The runs were long, and they opened at both ends with a gate. The gate at the back emptied out into a hundred fenced acres spotted with trees and a small pond. All of that was surrounded by a high chain-link fence.

  Sometimes the dogs were let loose out there, though not necessarily altogether. Some of the dogs got along well, some didn’t.

  I was taught not only to scoop poop, which was really not a part of the job that required great instruction, but when and which dogs to let out in the open, how to feed them, groom them, and so on. By the fourth day I had some idea of what was going on.

  There were all manner of dogs out there, all rescue dogs. Dogs that had been abused, abandoned, or had been put there when their masters died. Puppies born to strays. No dog that lived there was put down due to convenience, but since there was a constant stream of animals, the reserve could only hold so many.

  I fed them and watered them. I spent time with them. I petted them. All of the dogs were friendly. Even the ones that looked kind of scary, like the pit bulls and the Dobermans. What they wanted was what I guess everyone wanted. Attention. Love. A place to stay.

  I felt like they were my peeps.

  The lady who ran the shelter was called High Top for some reason I didn’t know. She was a lean woman, brown from the sun, probably too much sun. Her hair was long and nearly white, but I figured she wasn’t any more than in her mid-thirties. She was pretty in a sun-damaged kind of way. She always wore tee-shirts and shorts and black work shoes with white socks that went to her knees. Her long hair was gathered in the back with a black hair clamp.

  “You’re good at this,” she said.

  I was closing up a cage when she walked up.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re a natural for dealing with dogs.”

  “I didn’t actually have a choice,” I said.

  “I get that,” High Top said, “but that doesn’t change the fact you’re good at it. Maybe you might want a job here.”

  “One that pays?”

  “We don’t pay much,” she said, “and we run through employees frequently. All the scooping of dog poop gets to them. But we can pay you all right. It’s a good job for someone preparing for college.”

  “But I’m not,” I said.

  “That’s hard to believe,” she said.

  That caught me off guard. “Why’s that?”

  “You seem like a college kid,” she said. “I just assumed you were going to college.”

  “I’m here on probation,” I said. “You get many kids from college on probation?”

  “More than you would think,” she said. “Mostly kids like you that did something stupid, but fortunately, nothing major.”

  “Well,” I said. “I’m not a college kid. I don’t even have my high school diploma.”

  “You can go back to school,” she said.

  “I thought I’d take my GED,” I said. “I keep meaning to do it.”

  “Meaning to doesn’t get it done,” High Top said.

  “It’s hard to do and work,” I said.

  “What I did,” High Top said.

  “Really?” I was surprised. I thought the GED was just for trailer trash like myself.

  “Really,” High Top said. “I took the GED then went to A&M University. I got a degree in veterinary medicine, but what I ended up doing was putting together this refuge.”

  “Was it hard to do?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. I had to find donors. Sometimes the place does fine, at other times not so much. I’ve been on the edge of closing several times.”

  “What would happen to the dogs if you closed?” I asked.

  Her face soured. “For those I couldn’t find homes, which of course is always the goal…I place a lot of pets… But for those I couldn’t find homes, they would go to the local animal shelter, and a large percentage of them would be put down.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said.

  High Top nodded. “It is. But that’s what happens to a large number of the dogs they can’t find homes for. Bad as it sounds, they don’t really have a choice. Here, I’m trying to do something different. I work at full capacity all the time. I place a dog, another one comes in. One dies—and sadly it happens—another comes in. There’s not a single empty run here. I feed them well. I let them run inside a fenced compound. They have a safe place at night. I know each and every one of them, and pet them all. You’re welcome to pet as many as you can.”

  “Do you get any bad dogs?”

  “Now and again,” she said. “Mostly bad dogs wouldn’t be that way if they hadn’t
been treated badly. Bad lives make bad animals. For that matter, bad lives make bad people.”

  High Top paused and looked down the row of kennels.

  “You know what I like about these dogs?” she asked.

  “They don’t judge you?” I said.

  She turned to me and smiled. “Exactly. And they’re always happy to see me. I like all animals, but dogs, they’re special. Some people are dog people. Some are cat people. Have you heard the old joke about what the main difference is between cats and dogs?”

  I shook my head.

  “A dog thinks: My owner feeds me, houses me, pets me, takes care of me, therefore, the owner must be god. The cat thinks: My owner feeds me, houses me, pets me, takes care of me, therefore I must be god.”

  I laughed.

  “Dogs,” she said. “There’s something about that love they have that surpasses most anything. They can help you find a place in yourself that’s really nice. That’s what I like best about them. They do more for me than I can ever do for them.”

  “Well, I guess I better finish up,” I said.

  “Sure,” High Top said. “You think about that job offer.”

  “Okay.”

  “And the GED,” she said. “I’ll help you prepare for it, if you like.”

  “Sure,” I said. Thinking I might never actually get around to it.

  High Top walked off and I went back to work.

  (16)

  On Sunday, when I finished up with the dogs, I drove home and started getting ready for my date. I didn’t know exactly how to get ready for a real date, since I’d never had a really good one. I’d gone to the movies with a boy a few times, but it was with other people too, and maybe it was a date of sorts, but it didn’t feel like one. It felt like a communal get together. We had fun at the movie, and when it was over the boy I was with and the other boys poked each other and giggled, and played grab ass with each other, and we all went home. I found the whole event about as exciting as watching an ant crawl.

  I picked out different wardrobes, but there wasn’t anything that jumped out at me. I really didn’t know what to wear. I wasn’t sure where we were going. Herb said some place nice to eat. Maybe a movie. I didn’t want to underdress, but I didn’t want to overdress either. I tried a cute top with blue jeans, and thought that looked all right. But maybe on a first date, going to some place fancy, Herb sporting me around, I should wear something a little nicer. And then again, who said the place would be fancy? He said nice.

  I tried on several dresses, but thought all of them looked funny on me. I had worn them before and felt they looked all right then, but suddenly they didn’t look the same way. I couldn’t decide if it was the dresses that were wrong, or if I was in a mood. Or both.

  I sat down on the bed and thought about shoes. I thought about buying a new outfit, but I didn’t really have the money for that.

  Grandma came into the room. And bless her, when she walked in wearing that big colorful dress, she looked like a circus tent being shoved by the wind. She looked at all the clothes I had spread out on my bed.

  “You taking that stuff to the Goodwill?”

  “No,” I said.

  “She has a date,” Mama said. She was standing at the bedroom doorway, looking in. I hadn’t told her or anyone I had a date.

  “A date?” Grandma said, as if me going on a real date was the strangest thing, next in oddness only to aliens landing in a saucer on the White House lawn and insisting they show the first lady how to cook an omelet.

  “I noticed it right off,” Mama said coming into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “She has that blank stare about her.”

  “She’s not old enough to date,” Grandma said.

  “She certainly is,” Mama said. “I was married when I was just a year older than her.”

  “And how did that work out?” Grandma said.

  “Not well,” Mama said. “But this isn’t about marriage, it’s about a date.”

  “One leads to the other,” Grandma said, and sat on the bed. I could feel it shift, like a raft trying to ferry an elephant across a river.

  “You pick out something yet?” Mama asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “What kind of date is it?”

  I told her what I knew.

  “Here’s a thought,” Mama said. “A simple black dress with nice flat shoes. No high heels. That’s a little too glitzy, I think, and the damn things will hurt your feet.”

  “Here’s another thought,” Grandma said. “Stay home. Boys are terrible people. Just look at your father.”

  She had a point. But I kept thinking about Herb and how he looked and how nice he had been.

  “I don’t have a simple black dress,” I said. “I have a simple somewhat gray dress that was once black but has faded and has what might be a permanent chili stain next to the neckline.”

  “I got a little money,” Mama said. “You ought to have a dress. You go down town and buy you something.”

  “We can’t afford that,” I said.

  “Sure we can,” she said. “I’ll get the money, and you go shopping. Maybe it’s best you drive over to Tyler, where they got a good mall. You go over there and see what they got. What I can give you isn’t much money, but it’s something. Maybe you could put it with anything you have saved up.”

  “All right,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “The other thing I want,” Mama said, “is I want you to have fun. You don’t have a lot of fun. You’re the age when you should be having fun. You work, hit people with a board, and scoop up dog crap. You should be having fun.”

  “Did you have fun at my age, Mama?” I asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “Me neither,” grandma said.

  “Why?”

  “We both got married too early, and we both got married to men we shouldn’t have married.”

  “At least my husband died young,” Grandma said to Mama. “He didn’t run off.”

  “Thanks,” Mama said. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel better,” Grandma said.

  “I guessed that,” Mama said. She looked at me. “Come on, Dot. Let me get you that money.”

  (17)

  Mama gave me the money and I got my wallet and stuck it in my back pocket. I hate carrying a purse for the most part, and try not to. I started out to my car. Elbert was sitting in a lawn chair again. It was past noon and it was hot and he was sweating. His face looked like it had been sugar-glazed. He glanced at me as I went by.

  “You going to work?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “Sunday I’m off from the Dairy Bob, and I’ve done the dog duty. How about you? You going to work? Ever?”

  “I’m looking for opportunities,” he said.

  “You job hunting with mental telepathy?” I asked.

  About that time my little brother, Frank, came out of the trailer. “She’s got a date. I was listening.”

  I looked at Frank. “Thanks, Frank. Smooth. You little eavesdropper.”

  “I ain’t no eye dropper,” Frank said.

  “Eavesdropper,” I said. “Forget it.”

  Frank pretty much had forgot it. He pulled his bike out from under the trailer, which was up about three feet on blocks, got on it and rode off. As he went, he looked back and grinned at me.

  “I guess it’s not classy to hit your little brother with a board,” I said.

  Elbert ignored that, said, “You got a date, huh?”

  “You know, Elbert, it’s not really any of your business.”

  “Do you know him well?”

  “We just met,” I said. “At the Dairy Bob. And I told you, it isn’t any of your business.”

  “You ought to know more about him before you go out with him, Dot.”

  “Most likely, to know more about him, I have to go out with him,” I said.

  “But you got to be careful about it,” Elbert said. “You got to keep in mind that
boys have a kind of single-minded view at that age.”

  “Are you about to give me a lesson on the birds and the bees?” I said.

  “I’m pretty sure you know about the birds and the bees,” Elbert said. “And you’re smart, and you’re wary, but I think you want attention bad enough to let down your guard.”

  “Attention?” I said. “I get plenty of attention.”

  “A boy might seem like a knight in shining armor. But you’re young, Dot. You got a lot ahead of you.”

  “We’re not planning a wedding,” I said. “We’re going on a date.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Well don’t say,” I said. “Don’t say anything. You’re not my father.”

  “I know,” Elbert said. “But since he’s gone—”

  “Since he’s gone nothing,” I said. “You aren’t anything to me. What you are is a middle-aged man I just met recently living in a van in our front yard. And you were a skating clown for heaven’s sake. I don’t need advice from you.”

  “I was just trying to help, Dot.”

  “Don’t,” I said, and climbed in my car and drove away.

  I had only driven about a block when I felt bad about how angry I was, and wondered just why I was so angry. Was it because he had nailed me exactly as I was? Or was it because my entire family saw men as creeps?

  I drove over to Tyler. It was about an hour and a half drive. I was watching the time close. I had to find something to wear, drive back home, get dressed, and be ready by eight. I had it planned so he would pick me up at the Dairy Bob. I was kind of ashamed of myself, but I didn’t want him to see that run down trailer, or have to navigate Elbert and his van parked in the yard.

  I looked around the mall and found something right off, which I didn’t expect, and it was on sale. I tried it on and it fit just the way I wanted it to. I looked myself over in the mirror and thought I looked pretty dang good.

  It was as Mama suggested, a little black dress, and I bought some good shoes, not heels, and I knew I had a bit of jewelry at the house that could set the whole thing off. I might not knock him dead, but with my hair washed and brushed out, I might at least startle him a bit, like walking up on a preoccupied bunny.