South of the Pumphouse

by Les Claypool

  “EARL, SON, calm down!” His dad twisted him around, grabbing him by the sides of his face and looking him straight in the eyes. “Son, calm down. Just settle. Settle down.”

  Earl stopped flailing, his chest heaving for air. He looked at his father and instantly burst into tears, sobbing heavily.

  “It’s all right, son.”

  Earl’s father held him tight, rocking him back and forth as he cried.

  “Look what your kid’s done!” yelled one of the adults helping Ted. The man held a blood-stained T-shirt to the tattered, gravel-filled lips of the boy.

  Earl’s father stared coldly at the man. “It’s all right, son,” he muttered into Earl’s ear.

  From the passenger seat of Earl’s pickup, Ed spied things with a bit more clarity. The drugs had worn off, and he pondered the day’s events, trying to rationalize his experience. A strange synchronicity often accompanies hallucinogenic experiences. For most of his life, Ed had held Donny in contempt, and now that Donny was gone, Ed wondered if the wounds of his oppression would finally heal. Probably not, he reckoned. He felt no remorse for Donny; all his sympathy was reserved for his brother. He knew what needed to be done now. Protecting his brother was important, but it paled in comparison to the necessity of protecting his own son. The law would be lenient, he hoped. But the law would not look kindly upon him if this mess was to come unraveled and he had never spoken out.

  When Ted Seargent’s parents threatened to seek financial retribution for what had been done that night at the Park Theater, the boys’ father had stood by Earl. As a result, he ended up working his entire two-week summer vacation putting a new roof on the Seargents’ two-car garage. He never once chastised Earl or demanded his help. Earl did help his father, though, and was there on a daily basis lifting and toting whenever he could. Had Ted’s family taken the matter to the law, Earl would probably have been ordered to receive counseling for his violent behavior. That was something that their father would never have stood for.

  “There ain’t no way this side of hell that my boy is going to be poked and prodded by some candy-assed college psychologist. Piss on that! I’ll work for them sons-a-bitches till my arms fall off if I have to.”

  Looking back, Ed considered his father’s words. Therapy in those days had held a certain stigma that folks of their kind simply refused to tolerate. Perhaps if Earl had been poked and prodded by someone, his life would have been different. Their father had done what he thought was best for the welfare of his son, however, and now Ed had to do what was best for his own son.

  Ed hadn’t cried after the death of his father, but now he could feel a tingle in his nostrils and the tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

  “You all right there, bro?” asked Earl, hearing the faint sobbing from his brother.

  “Just thinking about Pop.”

  Chapter 31

  THE GHOSTS

  The truck pulled up in front of Earl’s house and parked in the same spot it had vacated much earlier that day. It was now dark, and there were lights on inside the house. A late-model Camaro was parked in the driveway.

  “Looks like Denise is here,” said Earl. “You comin’ in?”

  “Naw, I should go,” responded Ed numbly.

  Ed and Earl both got out of the truck. Ed walked to his VW with Earl on his heels. Ed climbed in, shut the door, and rolled down the window.

  “You gonna be all right, bro?” inquired Earl, leaning against the door.

  “Yeah, I’ll be all right.” He started the van.

  “I’ll see you Thursday night at Ma’s, right?”

  “Nah. I think I’m gonna have to give it a miss.”

  “Ah, c’mon, bro, you can’t miss Thanksgiving.”

  “I’ve missed it for the past five years.”

  “Yeah, but Ed, Ma’s really counting on ya this year.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Ah, man, she’s gonna blame me. She’ll think we got in some sort of fight or somethin’.”

  “No, I’ll call her, tell her I’m sick.”

  “You sure?”

  “I just gotta go, Earl.”

  Earl looked at Ed and saw the fatigue in his eyes. “Sorry, bro.”

  Gazing at his brother’s face, Ed noticed for the first time the strong physical resemblance to his father. “Me and this town never did get along too well anyway, bro,” he said with a smile. “Too many ghosts.”

  “How’s your head? You still spinnin’ on that shit?” Earl asked, smiling back at him.

  “Naw, I’m pretty much down now. Maybe a little ampy.”

  “You take care of yourself, little bro.” Earl patted the top of the car door and walked off.

  “Yeah,” said Ed, “You too, bro.”

  Earl turned to look back, giving Ed a wave. Ed smiled and nodded, and then drove away.

  Chapter 32

  VACANT GRAY

  Earl gathered up the gear from the boat and piled it all into the garage, forgoing his usual routine of methodically placing everything in its proper space. He went back out to pull down the garage door. The window allowed a partial view into his living room. Seeing the flicker of the TV through the window, he hesitated and then shut the large door with a slam.

  The walk to the front porch was a long one; he could feel the tension building up in his neck. Hearing intermittent blasts of heavy metal music, Earl turned toward his neighbor’s house. It was the same little fat kid who had shot out the streetlamp two years earlier. Now in his early teens, the boy’s interests had diverted from slingshots and firecrackers to the late-’70s Mercury Cougar into which he was currently installing a CD player. Earl stared at the boy for a moment, listening as the music clicked on and off with every attempted speaker connection. The kid was still a couple of years from the legal driving age and yet he already had an old car to fix up. Earl smiled at the thought. He was reminded of himself at that age.

  Earl walked up onto the landing and opened the door. A woman was sitting on the couch, facing away from him toward the television. She had bleached-blond hair that was ratted up on the top of her head and hair-sprayed into the shape of a long breaking wave. She was wearing stonewashed denim jeans and a tight Hard Rock Café sweatshirt.

  “Hi,” she said as Earl entered the room, never once taking her eyes off the TV.

  Earl didn’t say anything. He threw his keys down on the kitchen table, taking off his jacket and hat. “Whatcha doin’ here?” he asked curtly.

  “Watchin’ TV.”

  “Humph,” he grunted, and then chuckled in amused irritation, walking into the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. “Where’s Denise?” he hollered to the other room.

  “She’s around somewhere. Maybe she’s in the bathroom.”

  Earl headed down the hallway to the master bedroom, where he found Denise getting dressed for work; night shift at the Pinecrest nursing home.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she responded, lifting her eyes for a moment.

  “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Shhhheez. Don’t I always come back, Earl?” She adjusted the band on her watch. “But I’ll tell you what, if I come back and find that shit laid out on the coffee table again, I’m gonna turn around and go for good. And maybe I’ll just call the cops on my way out.” Denise pulled up her yellow scrub pants and moved to the bathroom.

  Earl stared blankly at the spot where she had just been standing. She’s an awful cool little slut, he thought, taking a swig of beer. “What’s your sister doin’ here?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking at himself in the mirror. He noticed the circles under his eyes. They were probably more pronounced that particular day, since he hadn’t really seen them before. Perhaps it was also the sight of similar yet more youthful facial characteristics in his brother that had made him take notice. He stared forward as Denise ratted her hair in the bathroom mirror.

  “I’m taking Annie to the bus station on my way to work. H
er and Jeff separated, and she’s been staying at Momma’s for the past couple weeks. She’s gonna move in with my cousin Jamie up in Vacaville.” She paused, then added, “Hey, did Donny hook up with you guys today?”

  “Donny?” replied Earl, startled by her audacity.

  “Yeah, I saw him this morning. He and Annie had a pretty wild time last night at The Rancho and she brought him home to Momma’s. Kept me awake damn near all night with their loud humpin’. Me and Annie fixed Donny a big lunch to take, cuz he said he’d be catching up with ya at the boat ramp.”

  Earl stared forward into the mirror. He heard a buzzing noise, like the sound of hot summer grasshoppers, whirring in his head. Denise’s voice faded into the distance.

  “I didn’t tell him about Ed comin’, though. I didn’t think they liked each other. Hey, where is Ed anyhow? I haven’t seen him in …”

  The mechanical sound of the old alarm clock grew louder and louder as Denise’s voice all but disappeared. Earl could see the clock in the reflection of the mirror. The digits flipped from 7:02 to 7:03, the slap of the revolving numbers exploding and reverberating in his head. Earl looked closer into the mirror. He focused intensely on his left eye, noticing the vacant gray.

  Chapter 33

  THE FISH

  Murky water darkness. Daylight was gone, and with it the thin layer of warm surface water that accompanies sunny autumn afternoons. The fish had remained still for hours, fatigued from an expenditure of energy that it had not experienced for years. The current flowed strongly now as the incoming tide filled the bay. With the tide came a vast array of scents that washed over the mighty sturgeon’s whiskers. It was time to feed, to rejuvenate. With one deliberate pump of its massive tail, the fish moved forward, undisturbed by the four-foot steel leader that trailed from the hooks lodged in its rubbery lips.