by JB Duvane
Suddenly his mouth opened and he gasped for breath, struggling to draw air into his lungs. Then his eyes moved towards me. He touched my arm with his hand and his eyes closed again. I didn’t have any other medical tricks up my sleeve. My only chance was the highway.
I dashed out of the trailer and ran through the yard towards the empty road and waited. Somebody would come. They might not come in time, but somebody would come, and when they did, I planned on jumping out into the middle of the road to stop them.
Eventually I saw a car in the distance, its outline blurred by the waves of heat that were rising up off the asphalt. As the car got closer I realized that it was the highway patrol and every muscle in my body relaxed. Someone was going to help him. This whole grueling trip wasn’t going to be for nothing.
The car pulled over next to where I was standing and waving my arms and two police officers got out and sauntered over to me. They didn’t look like they were in much of a hurry, even though I was talking to them a mile a minute about my father needing an ambulance. I stood out in the gravel yard while they took a couple steps inside the trailer, but they immediately came back out.
“Aren’t you going to do anything? He’s dying!”
“Just stay calm. My partner is radioing for an ambulance,” one of the cops said, his mirrored aviator shades still covering his eyes. “It should be here in fifteen minutes.”
“He could be dead by then!”
“I’m going to need you to tell me what happened in there.”
“It’s my father’s trailer. He’s been sick.”
“Did you attack your father?”
“Of course not!”
“It looks like there’s been a fight. That place is a mess and you’re all scraped up. And I don’t see a car anywhere.”
“I was in an accident. I … I was on my way here,” I stammered. I didn’t understand how they could think I attacked him. “Th-that’s the way he lives. I’ve tried to clean up after him but—”
“Do you live here?”
“No. I mean … I did, but I don’t now.”
I felt like I couldn’t explain myself fast enough. No matter what came out of my mouth the cop acted like I was suspicious.
“Where do you live?”
“I … I guess I don’t really live anywhere right now.”
“What’s you’re address, young lady? I’m going to need to see your identification.”
As the cop stepped closer to me I realized that he looked familiar. In all of the commotion with my father and the questions I didn’t notice, but I used to see him at Red’s all the time.
“I … I don’t have it with me.”
“No driver’s license? Nothing?”
“I was in a car accident back on the highway and my purse—“
“How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“You walked away from an accident?”
“Yes! I was on my way because I was worried and someone ran me off the … I mean I got a flat tire.”
The officer stared at me for a long moment. “Okay, so you walked here and found your father like this?”
“Yes.”
“Where was the accident?”
“On 70. A few miles down the highway.”
“We didn’t see any cars on the side of the road, young lady. No one radioed for a tow truck.”
“I walked! The car went off the side of the road and I walked here!”
“How far?”
“I don’t know! Maybe it was more like ten or fifteen miles. I’m not sure. Why are we talking about this when my father could be dying in there?”
“Just trying to get a straight story out of you,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“I’m telling you one story and it’s the truth!”
“Uh-huh,” he laughed with a mocking tone to his voice. “You say your father's dying. You're covered in blood and you're going to tell me you were in an accident and walked fifteen miles through the desert. I know your type, little girl.”
“You don’t believe me? I’m telling you the truth!”
“Why don’t we go down to the station and you can tell your story to the chief?”
I heard the sound of gravel crunching behind me as the other cop walked up. “Chopper’s coming.”
“No meat wagon?”
“Nah, it’s too far. It’d take a couple hours for an ambulance to get all the way out here and back to Safford General. They’re sending a chopper. So what do we have here?”
“She says she got in an accident and walked here.”
“Walked here? From where? This rat trap is in the middle of nowhere.”
I tried one more time to explain what happened but the more I tried to convince them, the more I realized that it didn’t make that much sense. And the fact that I couldn’t tell them about the man who forced the car I was in off the road made it worse. I was almost hysterical by the time the helicopter appeared in the distance.
“Why don’t you wait in the squad car while we get your father into the chopper? Then we’ll see about your story.”
I sat in the back of the police car and watched as my father’s body was brought out of the trailer. They had an oxygen mask on him so I knew he was still alive, but I didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let me near him. None of this made any sense. The only thing I could fathom was that they didn’t trust me because they thought I was trailer trash. I couldn’t believe they though that I had done that to him. It was insane.
I yelled at the idiot cops as the helicopter took off. I wanted to go with him to the hospital but I was locked in the back seat of the cop car.
5
Raymond
The drive through south-eastern Arizona was boring, filled with nothing more than boulder clusters and flat, simple desert covered in the occasional patch of dead weeds. I hated the area, always had.
There were more single wides and dilapidated travel trailers littering the desert than there were gas stations or restaurants or houses or any sort of establishment. From any point on the highway you could look off in the distances and see at least one lone trailer that looked like a permanent part of the landscape.
How these people lived like this was beyond me. No electricity. No waterlines. Nothing. Just a hot metal box sitting in a dusty field out in the middle of nowhere. Not unlike the home Charlotte’s father brought her up in. I wished I could take her past away for her. I wished there was some way I could wrap my arms around her and turn every moment in her life—past, present and future—into what she wanted and deserved. Beautiful.
It was about an hour to Safford, but the drive felt like it had already taken most of the day and we were only halfway there. It was the largest city for hours and was a haven for polygamists, prostitutes, and cults. Mama mentioned them to me once or twice. The heathen women who stood in the parking lots of the truck stops with their sour lips set in a permanent line and their wrinkled, sagging skin that had taken years of abuse from the sun and looked tough enough to make into a jacket.
Gerald got on his phone and started making arrangements. He checked the Safford hospital and found out that a man with the same last name as Charlotte had been air lifted to the hospital a couple hours ago. Then he spoke to the head nurse on duty in the ER and found out what room he was being moved to. He came up with some story about being his step brother and the nurse bought the whole thing.
“Charlotte’s not there, but we can at least get in to see her father. See if he know’s where she is.”
“You think they’ll let us in?” I asked, although I knew Gerald had a way with people. He could get them to believe just about anything.
“No problem. I’ll do all the talking to get us in there. Then once were inside his room you can knock yourself out.”
“I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to be knocked out,” I said through a clenched jaw. I wanted to kill that man.
We couldn't get there fast enough. Adrenaline pumped thr
ough my body as the barren desert turned into broken down buildings with wood slats for windows and yards filled with rusted, ancient cars. I felt a trembling in my legs, and a restless anxiety that nothing could quell. I tapped my fingers on my thighs and my feet shifted around in the space in front of me. She could be dead. I might have already lost her. Her beautiful skin could be baking in the sun right now.
“She’s going to be fine, Raymond. We’re going to find her.”
Gerald always seemed to know what I was thinking, although I imagined the anguish on my face told him everything he needed to know.
“I just can’t believe that disgusting pit. It's a two bedroom single-wide in the middle of the desert. No electricity, probably no running water—nothing. And that man is a raging alcoholic that beat her silly.”
“Yeah but neither one of them is there now. She’s not with him and she’s not stupid. She was a stripper that carried a revolver in her glove compartment. That woman has probably bashed more heads in than I can count. Just hold tight. We’re about five minutes away.”
I knew he was right. But I couldn’t stop picturing her living in that disgusting excuse for a house. And I couldn’t stop imaging her alone and dying; her body covered in dirt and baking in the sun. And if she were lying dead somewhere—no matter what kind of spin Gerald tried to put on it—I knew it would be my fault.
We walked into the hospital and went directly to the filthy pig’s room. We almost made it past the nurse’s station unnoticed—which is what I would have preferred—but Gerald made our presence known. He chatted with an attractive nurse and within seconds had her blushing and smiling at her shoes.
I didn’t understand how he did that. How he was able to disarm just about anyone he was talking to with just a few words and a smile. Although I knew I came off as confident and in control, I felt almost painfully awkward with just about everyone I met. Everyone except Charlotte.
The nurse gave out information like Gerald was her long lost friend and I was eternally grateful that I had him in my life. If it weren’t for him I would have probably never left that god forsaken house. I’d probably be holed up in one of the dusty old exam rooms, wrapped in a shawl and staring out the window like a lunatic.
As I stood there listening to Gerald flirt with the nurse I was reminded of a story I’d heard about my great aunt. My grandmother’s sister; woman who was deathly afraid of the outside world. An affliction that seems to have plagued many members of the Valice family—in a variety of generations and to varying degrees. She spent all of her days and nights in her room, sitting in front a window smoking cigarettes.
When her room was finally cleaned out after her death they found dozens of ashtrays, bowls, and plates that were overflowing with lipstick encrusted cigarette butts and a large pile of ashes on the floor in front of one window. Her favorite window. What she was looking at no one ever knew. She was a prisoner in her own world for most of her life.
I shivered as I brought myself out of my horrible daydream. I didn’t want to wind up like that. I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life looking out of a window and wondering what could have been. I wanted to move forward but I had a lot to let go of before that could happen. And I wanted Charlotte to be part of it.
Apparently, Charlotte's father was in stable condition and he was awake. I couldn't believe my luck that we were able to just walk into a complete stranger’s room.
I'd seen the man a thousand times. For months while I was watching Charlotte he was practically the only thing I saw on the trailer feed. The only time I saw her at home was when she got up in the morning and then when she came in after work. And even that was only for a few seconds. She spent as little time in that place as possible and even less time near her father. It was easy to see why.
When we walked in he barely moved his head to look over at us. “The fuck are you? Lawyers?”
When the man spoke he sounded like he had a swollen tongue and a mouth full of food. The lazy way he moved his lips made his words barely intelligible. And the stench. It had clearly come from him and had followed him here. How he could stand himself was beyond me.
“I’m a friend of your daughter’s, Mr. Jameson.”
“So what, you fucking that little slut?”
It took everything I had in me to keep myself calm.
“She told me she was concerned about you. About your health.”
“Bitch musta been real concerned. She left me to die. That's why I'm in here, ‘cause she took off an’ leff me!” He started to raise his voice but it was obviously too strenuous for him. He exhaled a rotten breath then rolled his head away from me. “Selfish bitch.”
“She came back because she was worried about you.”
“Bullshit.” His yellowed eyes zeroed in on me again. “Haven’t seen her since she leff. Must be two, three weeks.”
“So you haven’t seen her?”
“I told you! Been weeks! The hell you want?”
“I was concerned about her. I came to make sure she was safe … and to bring her back.”
The pig narrowed his eyes at me. I could tell that the money grubbing wheels in his head were already turning. He was going to see what he could get for himself out of this situation. “Back? Back where?”
“I have a house. A place for her to stay.”
“I bet you got a place for her to stay,” he said with a gravelly, piggish laugh. “Bet she keeps it nice and warm for you.”
I didn’t react to his disgusting insinuation. I had more important concerns than his pathetic attempts at riling me. “How did you get to the hospital, Mr. Jameson?”
“Hell if I know. Woke up here.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I don’t fuggin’ know! Watch TV till it went out! Dyin’ with nuffin’ to eat! Look at me! Look at what she did to me!”
I stared at him for a long moment. He had somehow spent his life convincing himself that his daughter was the cause of all of his problems. Even now with that rotten stench wafting off of him in waves—clearly coming from inside him—he was blaming her. “I imagine she was the one who called for the helicopter that brought you here, Mr. Jameson.”
“Imagine. Fancy bullshit. If she called then where the hell is she? She ain’t here. She ain’t been anywhere near me for weeks.” He looked me up and down for a moment. “Don’t think I don’t know your type. Just lookin’ for some free pussy. Use it up then move on to the next. She’s mine,” he said as he poked his chest with his thumb. “I brought her into this damn world and I spent plenty of money on that little cunt. If she’s back here, I ain’t letting her out of my sight again. She’s going to take care of me from now on.” He picked up the TV remote and started going through the channels.
Neither one of us said a word for a moment, then I made him a proposition I knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse.
“I’d be willing to pay, Mr. Jameson. I’d like to find Charlotte as soon as possible.”
His head stayed pointed at the television on the wall but his eyes slithered back over to me. “How much?”
“What do you think is fair? I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”
“Cash? Now?”
“I don’t have much cash on me, but I can get on the phone with my bank and wire the money to you.”
“No good. Don’t got no bank. ’Sides, I’m seein’ things a little different now.”
“How do you mean?”
“She tried ta kill me, fer fuck's sake! I deserve sumpin’ fer my troubles.”
“Of course you do, Mr. Jameson.”
“I figure if you want the slut then you know she’s worth a little something extra. She can cook ’n clean. She’s got a good body.”
“What do you want, Mr. Jameson?”
“Hundred thousand.”
“Dollars? You want me to pay you one-hundred-thousand dollars in cash for your daughter?”
“Take ‘er or leave ‘er.”
“Okay,
Mr. Jameson. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll leave four-hundred dollars cash with you right now. Then I’ll have my assistant come back tonight with the rest.”
“The whole thing?” His eyes practically bugged out of his head.
“Yes, the whole thing. Now where is she.”
“Eh, probably at that goddamned Red’s. That’s where she use to take off her clothes every fuggin’ night. She thought she was so sneaky, but I knew. I knew what that little slut was up to. Goddamned miracle she doesn’t have ten kids climbing the walls already.”
I knew he was full of shit. He had no idea where she was, but I figured it was as good a place as any to start looking. I laid four one-hundred dollar bills on the bedside table. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jameson.”
“Blagh.” An unintelligible slurred noice came out from the moist space in between his liver-lips as he stared at the television set. “I’ll be waitin’ for the rest.” He never looked back at me.
“What’s the plan?” Gerald asked as we descended in the elevator.
“We’re going to Red’s.”
“And the father?”
“You’re going to come back here tonight … and you’re going to kill him.”
6
Charlotte
“Where are you taking me?” The cop had thrown me in a nasty cell in a run-down police station a couple towns over and had left me there for hours without any food or water. I was completely dehydrated from that insane walk through the desert. I had no idea what time it was or what was going on. No one had questioned me or given me a chance to make a call. But now he was yanking me around like a common criminal.
“Shut up.” The cop threw me into the backseat of the car while his partner laughed at something on his phone. The heat inside the jail cell had been unbearable and the car wasn’t much better. The back seat was blocked off with a glass window and I was sure they had the AC running up there, but it was suffocating back where I was.
