by Jack Kinsley
It reminded Travis of everything else in the trunk that Dallas would need. He might have driven away with all of it if the giant hadn't said anything.
They exited the vehicle and met at the back of the car. Travis immediately felt the prying eyes of the general public on him, even though the parking lot was empty and there were only speeding cars passing them on the highway. Dallas took out all the provisions, lifting the dumbbells from the trunk as if they were Hollywood props, and surrounded his feet with a decent pile of stuff.
"You want some help carrying some of that?"
"Nope."
They stood there staring at each other while Travis ran down his mental checklist. Everything seemed accounted for.
"Okay, call me if you need anything. We'll touch base tomorrow?"
"You got it, boss."
There was a hint of sarcasm in his response, maybe even condescension. The tone didn't bother Travis as much as the unsympathetic smile that sat unnaturally high and rigid on Dallas's face. It was insincere and seemed to say, whatever, dipshit, go fuck yourself.
Travis didn't like the feel of it and offered him a handshake to put things right — to which Dallas left him hanging in the cool, ocean breeze. His beady eyes regarded Travis from head to toe while he continued to wear that ridiculous, all-knowing grin — as if he was privy to some inside joke they had never shared.
"You be good now, Mr. Martin," he told him and finally shook his hand. He held on to it too long, with too much pressure, and Travis felt like an eight-year-old being teased by a tough, drunk uncle. He tried to pull his hand back twice before the giant finally let go.
Travis tried to laugh it off. It was time to get the hell out of there — before things got even more bizarre.
"Okay...anything you need, I'm just a phone call away." He turned and headed back around the car to the driver's side door. As he climbed in, he looked over his shoulder to see the beast watching him, still smiling like a fool.
Inside the car, Travis peered back at Dallas through the heavily tinted rear window. The giant's gaze was fixed absently over the panorama of Pacific Ocean. Then, without any foreseeable reason, he suddenly stood at attention, military style, clicked his heels twice, and gave a full Navy salute to the horizon. He was statuesque, cast bigger than life, and his cargo shorts flapped in the strong onshore wind. When he finally broke form, he snapped his right arm back down sharply to his side, and then resumed a position of attention accompanied by a vacant stare.
Travis watched in bewilderment, words slowly forming at his lips, "What th—"
Before the f-bomb could drop, Dallas folded into laughter, near hysteria, and began bobbing his head up and down, peering into the back window, trying to find Travis's shape behind the smoked glass. It was a gag, maybe, and drew only a nervous chuckle from Travis. Then the giant slapped the top of the trunk twice, startling Travis inside, and began waving at him incessantly; an animated, exaggerated wave with blurred fingers that could have come from a wound-up child.
Travis bounced his hand lightly off the horn a couple times, emitting two half beeps, and slowly drove out of the parking lot. He watched Dallas in the rearview mirror, looking backward more than forward, and then gunned it onto PCH.
Chapter 15 / Into A Splinter Of Light
Travis chain-smoked the entire trip back to Crystal Heights. He rarely smoked in his car, but today he lit four in a row, end to end, and then opened all the car windows and blasted the AC for the last half mile. He found a short stick of Halls in the bottom of his glove box, old and forgotten; though he couldn't get all the wrapping off, he chewed two of them anyway.
There was a crowd inside the house when Travis returned, lining both sides of the hallway leading to Betsy's door. It was quiet and intimate, the only sound the murmur of low voices. Everyone looked in his direction as he approached the west wing. Every face seemed to confirm Sarah's prediction. The others had been taking turns saying goodbye — even Dani had taken part, but now stood furthest from the door.
Chef Tom greeted Travis first. They shook hands and gave a brief one-arm hug with a sharp manly slap on their backs, then the chef cast his eyes back down to the floor and leaned his back against the wall. No words were exchanged. The maid was next, of all people, still wearing her smock. A dust rag poked out of her front pocket. She held Travis tight and whispered in his ear that he must go in quickly — there wasn't much time. The gesture caught fire and a procession of embraces went all around, one after another: Lucy, Diane, Barbara (she'd become Betsy's hairdresser over the past two years), and then Helen enveloped him and kissed him on the cheek.
Travis looked around for Sarah when Helen touched his arm and directed his attention to the closed door of the suite. A moment later, Sarah came out dabbing a tissue at the corners of her eyes. Her watery blue eyes found Travis straight away. If telepathy existed she would have run straight into his arms, but instead she slowly made her way to him. Their budding romance was still a secret, and it took all his strength to resist her powerful draw. She hadn't seen the earlier display of compassion going around, but the warmth of emotion lingered in the hallway, and he decided it would be okay to give her a hug too. He could sense she was awkward at first and then melted inside the cage of his arms. Helen watched them closely. He held her gently back at the shoulders and asked if he could go in.
"Yes, you better." She nodded.
Travis entered and quietly shut the door behind him. It was dark inside. The heavy burgundy curtains were pulled tightly shut, but a splinter of light divided the seam at its highest point. To Travis, it seemed like the light was trying to widen the fissure and draw her into its radiance. It was deafeningly quiet in the room; he could almost hear the static he saw in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the low light. It was like snow clearing on a TV screen, steadily forming a ghostly image and solidifying, the deeper shadows around her coagulating and the space gaining three-dimensionality. Other matter began to identify itself as the floating molecules came together and created familiar objects: an unlit table lamp on top of a block of nightstand; the silhouetted stars of lilies shooting from the mouth of a vase; a single chair with padded arms and a soft inviting seat at her bedside.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not dead yet." Her voice broke the silence.
It made him jump and his hand instinctively clutched his heart. He tried to respond, but his tongue locked and he couldn't produce a word.
"This isn't a voice from beyond, Travis." Her humor was obviously still intact.
"Betsy. I'm sorry I couldn't be here earlier."
"I'm glad you made it. Now, come and sit."
He heard her take in a deep, difficult breath as he slid into the chair. The broad, padded bottom welcomed him but he sat on its edge, close to her. Her long pajama sleeve was outside the duvet cover; it could have been empty except for the point of crooked bone in the middle and a pale, frail hand poking out the end of it. He took her hand in his. It was like holding the hand of one of those hanging skeletons in a biology class.
"Are you in any pain?"
"No, I'm completely numb." Her other hand drifted over her body and then rested on top of their joined hands. "I only feel a little pressure." She stretched her head back with eyes closed and then met his again.
"Good. Is there anything I can do for you..." He hesitated. "Now or later?"
"No. Arrangements have been made. They will come for me. Sarah knows." Her chest rose and fell unreliably. "She's a good woman, Travis."
"It's okay, you don't need to talk so much."
She patted his hand. "One thing is for certain, honey. I need to speak. There's something I must tell you."
"Whatever you want."
"I lied to you, Travis."
"I don't care if you did."
"But I did, and it's important I tell you." She turned her head heavily toward him. Her thin hair partially veiled her vision; he gently lifted her head and brushed it back.
"I did choose money over l
ife, Travis." Tears ran across her face.
He pulled the last tissue from a box and dabbed at the tears while he told her, "Now Betsy, I've never seen you lead with your money. You have no idea how the rest of the stinking rich come through these doors, treating everyone around them like peasants." His tone was almost becoming disciplinarian, but in an affectionate way. He placed the used tissue on the nightstand and held her hand again. "There's a crowd outside your door right now, and it's not because you came trotting in on your high horse like some prima donna. You've touched every one of them and I don't see how—"
She squeezed his hand with the little strength she had left and her eyes told him to stop. "Don't make me scream at you, because...I can't. Just listen."
He nodded.
"I want to tell you—" she paused and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Do I stink?" She smiled curiously, displaying a perfect row of veneers that glowed inside the dim room.
"No, of course not, that was just a figure of speech — possibly dirty and rotten, but you people actually rarely ever stink."
"You know, I'm glad it's you." She patted his hand. "I knew I could count on you to keep poking fun at the dying."
It made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.
"Now kindly shut up and let me talk. Where was I?" She stared up at the ceiling and he could see a small burst of energy building inside her — the grand finale of a firework show.
"Money over life," he reminded her.
"Yes, money over life." The skin on her face grew loose, the veneers disappeared, and the current in her eyes quickened. "I was pregnant once. I told you I couldn't have babies. But there was a time when I could have — when I should have. I was only twenty-two when I met Charles. Still just a young, stupid girl, trying to make sense of her world. He'd been extremely successful at a very young age and didn't come from money — neither did I — but he was one of those men who could see into the future, prepared to be one of the first to meet its demand. Anyway, I was with another man, Ben, who couldn't have been more the opposite — a dreamer without any real plans...or luck, for that matter. We'd been together for years and were engaged to be married within months when I met Charles." She turned and looked at Travis, full of regret.
He sat quietly, surprised how easily she could speak now, her chest finding a steady rhythm.
"Ben was a sweet man. One of those rare creatures with a purity of heart. It was the reason I agreed to marry him, but there was no promise of security; always moving from job to job and talking of half-witted inventions that would never see the light of day. It was going to be a life struggle. That was almost a guarantee with Ben.
"When Charles showed up, I discovered a very selfish side of me that I'd never known existed. It was an entirely different kind of life that became possible — as if anything in the world was suddenly mine for the taking." She let go of his hand and braided her fingers over herself. "But I was already two months pregnant with Ben's baby. He didn't know; I hadn't told him yet. I was sure about my feelings for him, mostly, but I didn't think we could make it financially, and I was afraid. And when Charles came along, he was so handsome and successful — every woman's dream. He could have had anybody...and he wanted me, Travis. Just a simple girl from—"
She broke off. Her body suddenly bent to the right, then twisted left, and she held her breath for a moment, wincing as if something had just shut down inside her. Travis grabbed her hand and felt her squeeze with the might of a woman giving birth.
"Betsy, I'm going to get the doctor," he told her, but knew there was nothing he could do. He tried to stand, but she pulled him back down in his chair.
"No, you'll do no such thing," she said, and fought the pain back with short breaths. It relented. Her body slowly regained its composure and she lay on her back again, perspiration beading her forehead. It was one of the toughest things he'd ever had to watch. He was helpless.
After a couple of minutes, she carried on, in control of herself physically again. "So I left Ben for Charles, but I never told either of them about the child growing inside me. I knew Charles would never take me as I was, and Ben could never provide. And so I aborted the child."
"It's nothing to be ashamed about," he told her.
"It's everything to be ashamed about. It was different in those days. I had an illegal abortion with an untrained practitioner. When he removed the baby — the way he did it — he made me sterile for life. I could never bear children again. It was my life sentence for committing such a horrific act. And I did it for money, Travis. I sacrificed the only natural child I could have had for a life of security. And there's no mistaking it... God took my adopted son because of it." Her eyes slammed shut, rivers pouring from them.
Travis looked for another tissue box, but didn't see any. He tried using the old one and then wiped her face with the back of his hand. "Betsy, you've more than made up for it. The way you've lived your life and the way you raised your adopted son... He was a grown man, making his own decisions. You are not responsible for that. And think of all the families you'll make whole with your donation to the adoption center. Money isn't the root of all evil. It can do wonderful things — provide amazing opportunities. You're not leaving this place unforgotten or unforgiven."
She looked directly into his eyes, and he saw the hope there. "Yes...yes, maybe you are right?"
"I know I'm right." He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.
"Hope for others." She kissed his hand back.
"Look at the two of us." He smiled down at her. "Just a couple of bleeding hearts. If they could only see us now."
She flashed a smile back and told him, "I'm leaving you half a million."
"No, you're not." He shook his head.
"Don't argue with a dying woman. It's yours. Do what you want with it."
"It's going straight to the adoption center." He kissed her hand again and then spotted a tissue box across the room on a side table. "I'm going to get us some tissues over there. I'll be right back to clean us up."
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."
When he returned, he wiped the tears from her face, caught her last breath, and then she was gone.
Chapter 16 / A Single Grey Line Of Smoke
Seventy-two hours had passed since Travis dropped off his giant at the motel and watched the man's cargo shorts flap madly in the wind under his salute. It was an image that had troubled him since, but not nearly as much as the record that kept playing inside his head: One in the trunk after her light went out. He couldn't free himself from it.
The two of them had texted each other the first night — if one could call the giant's response a legitimate text, since it only consisted of one colon and a parenthesis. Travis had been keen on establishing their new form of communication, and had sent him a text asking if the motel was satisfactory and if he needed anything. Fifty minutes later, Dallas responded with just a digital smile. It was a beginning, at least, but far from settling, and didn't answer the question of whether or not he was in need of something.
The following evening, Travis sent another text in an attempt to keep the lines fresh — offering him food delivery to his motel room. He purposely wrote a lengthy text using full spelling and complete sentences with periods and superfluous details, in hopes it would encourage the beast to reply in a similar manner. This time, it took two hours for an answer and the only difference this round was a disappointing left parenthesis instead of right one. :(
The delayed responses and use of only emoticons skyrocketed Travis's already heightened state of anxiety. Not even a double dose of Valium or making love to Sarah seemed to quell his spirit. His imagination had broken loose with the direst of scenarios and, to make matters worse, he'd run out of his own personal stash of blues and was forced to pinch from the emergency fund they kept in the safe at Crystal Heights. Sarah had been relatively trusting the last few days, only throwing him an occasional eagle eye, but all it would take was a pill coun
t and he'd be up that dirty creek without a paddle in no time. He promised himself: only a couple more days.
Now, since arriving at Crystal Heights this morning, Travis had checked his phone incessantly for a reply from Dallas. It was nearing three hours since he'd sent him a text, and still no response. He'd also left him a voicemail in case the texts weren't going through for some reason, and he tried his best to sound greatly concerned about the giant's well-being, but Travis was a hair away from being fully convinced the psychopath was screwing him. He had done a drive-by at the motel last night and spotted his rented SUV in the lot, but it hadn't moved.
Unfortunately, Crystal Heights had grown very quiet the last few days, and had become a breeding ground for Travis's paranoia. It would have helped if he could have at least kept his mind busy. Betsy was gone and dearly missed, the giant was in hiatus, and only the introverted Dani remained. There was talk of two new clients possibly coming in, but there was always talk. It was the nature of the business; never any guarantees until the last minute and they were en route. It was a waiting game until they had finally hit rock bottom, been arrested, or had come home to a surprise intervention party. Sometimes, Helen Ross was the driving force in making the last persuasive argument convincing them to come in. Her role at the rehab could never be underestimated.
It was midmorning and Travis's perpetual loop of Where is the goddamn giant and Is he screwing me? had reached epic proportions. At the cusp of losing his mind and grabbing his car keys to go search for him, Dani suddenly presented the staff with a welcomed distraction. It certainly didn't take precedence over Travis's current affairs, but it did allow him to honor his own promise to himself and give Dallas until the afternoon to respond.
Dani was joining the online dating scene, thus officially going public with her sexuality for the first time — a cyber-world outing, Travis joked to her. It was a big step for her, even though she would have the obscurity of a profile among a sea of complete strangers.
