Traplines

by Eden Robinson

  Jeremy braked, thrust his door open, and leaped out. Carefully he examined the windshield, then eyed Tom. “You don’t touch my car.”

  “Get out of my life!”

  “Meep-badda-meep-meep,” Jeremy said, infuriatingly smug. “Make me.”

  “You seriously need help, you wacko.”

  “Come on, get in. It’s too late for you to be wandering around by yourself. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Piss on you.”

  “Tough guy, huh? Come on, Tommy-me-lad, let’s go a few rounds. Put up your dukes!”

  Tom clenched his fists, turned, and started to walk away. Jeremy revved the engine. Tom heard the car coming up behind him but he thought Jeremy would stop. Instead the car bumped him hard and he fell.

  “Go home!” Jeremy yelled.

  When Tom tried to stand up, his ankle gave out. He heard the door open. Jeremy stood over him.

  “This kind of thing wouldn’t happen if you didn’t piss me off,” Jeremy said, putting his arm under Tom and helping him up.

  Jeremy drove him home. Tom couldn’t speak. He was so furious he was shaking.

  “Your mom invited me to dinner on Thursday,” Jeremy said, as if everything was all right, as if he hadn’t tried to run him over. “See you then!”

  Tom watched Jeremy drive off. Not if I can help it.

  His ankle was strained and ached for the next three days. On Thursday night Tom waited outside the apartment. Jeremy buzzed up and disappeared inside. Tom climbed the stairs cautiously. He stopped in front of their door and listened. The voices were faint. They came from the kitchen.

  He opened the door slowly and poked his head in. The hallway was clear and Jeremy’s jacket hung neatly by the door. Soundlessly Tom pulled out the car keys.

  His heart was hammering hard. He felt like he was breathing through a tube. Hard to catch his breath as he slipped back out the door and made his way downstairs.

  Tom stopped at apartment 206 and knocked. Thrasher music was coming from inside. The door opened. A bald guy with a dragon tattoo on his neck scowled at him.

  “Is it safe to talk?” Tom said.

  “I’m not selling till I’m off parole.”

  Maybe this wasn’t going to work. Tom swallowed. There was no going back now. He took the car keys out of his pocket. “There’s a 1992 Jaguar XJS in parking space 16. Can you take care of it?”

  Wayne or Willy yanked him inside and closed the door. “You the owner?”

  Tom shook his head.

  “You live upstairs?”

  Tom nodded.

  “What kind of cut you want?”

  Tom said, “How much is fair?”

  “Seventy-five me, twenty-five you.”

  Tom pretended to think about it. He was just about to agree when Wayne or Willy said, “Listen, man, I’m taking all the fucking risks here.”

  “It’s my cousin’s car. He’s upstairs. The security code for the car is 1017. He’ll be there for another hour or two.”

  Wayne or Willy chuckled. “Your cousin, hey? Fuck, you’re cold, man.”

  Tom smiled grimly. “We all have bills to pay.”

  Tom opened the apartment door just as Jeremy was coming down the hallway. Shit, Tom thought, fingering the fake set of keys Wayne or Willy had given him.

  Appearances, Wayne or Willy had said. You got to play the game smart.

  “Hiya, kid,” Jeremy said.

  “Tom?” his mother said, following behind his cousin.

  “Hi,” Tom said, trying not to look suspicious.

  “We’re just about to have dinner,” his mom said. “Come set the table. Jeremy, could you run down to the store and pick up some creamed corn?”

  “Sure, Aunt Chrissy.”

  “I’ll get it,” Tom said quickly.

  “Oh, you dawdle too much,” she said.

  “It’s no problem,” Jeremy said.

  “No,” Tom said. “I could use a walk.”

  “I don’t want you to disappear,” his mom said. “You’re staying right here. I swear, you’re a regular traveling sam these days. I never see you home anymore.”

  “He probably has a girlfriend,” Jeremy said.

  Tom’s face flushed bright red and they started laughing.

  “Oh-ho!” his mother said. Then she got her misty look. “My baby’s growing up.”

  God, Tom thought, as she hugged him. Jeremy rocked on his feet, making faces at him while his mom wasn’t looking.

  “I’ve got to meet her,” she said.

  “She’s not really a girlfriend,” Tom said. “We’re just friends.”

  “That’s not what I hear,” Jeremy said, smiling broadly.

  “Oh?” his mom said, poking Tom in the chest. “You told him but you didn’t tell your own mother?”

  “Why don’t you invite her to dinner?” Jeremy said. “We’ve got lots of food.”

  Tom shook his head, “No.”

  “He’s ashamed of us,” Jeremy said.

  His mother’s smile faded.

  “No!” Tom said. “She really is just a friend. She’s, um, at cheerleading practice.”

  Jeremy smirked.

  His mother let go of him. “Dinner’s going to get cold.” She poked him again. “Take a shower first. You stink.” She walked into the kitchen.

  Tom stayed in the hallway with Jeremy. His cousin looked down at him benignly. “Kid, you are the worst liar on the face of the earth.”

  Tom wanted to ask him if he was going to take his car but didn’t dare. “You think I can’t take care of myself but I can.”

  “I think you’re a smart kid who acts really stupid,” Jeremy said. He reached into his jacket. He looked around. He walked back into the kitchen.

  Tom took the keys out and rubbed them against his shirt to get rid of his fingerprints. He dropped the keys on the floor under Jeremy’s jacket. Then he headed straight for the bathroom and locked the door. He started up the shower, stripped, and stepped in. The hot water seared his skin. He scrubbed hard.

  So Jeremy lost his car. Boo-hoo. He had money. He could buy another one.

  Tom had expected to feel triumphant or at least good. He had planned to be there when Jeremy came back, frantic and mad, so that he could see his cousin’s expression and savor it. Instead, he stayed in the shower long after he heard Jeremy shouting. His cousin was right. He was lousy at this kind of thing.

  Two policemen came an hour later and were unsympathetic. One was short and stocky and asked all the questions. He didn’t like Jeremy on sight. The feeling, Tom could see, was mutual.

  “You brought a car like that into this neighborhood?” the policeman asked.

  “I was visiting family,” Jeremy said through clenched teeth.

  Tom watched, expecting him to explode again. He’d been raging around the apartment on and off since he called the police. Aunt Faith looked blankly at the floor. His mother cried. Tom stayed in his chair and tried to be invisible.

  The police left a half hour later.

  “I bet you anything you’ll never see that car again,” the stocky policeman said. “Good thing you have insurance.”

  “These guys are professionals,” the other one put in. It was the first thing he’d said all evening. “You’re the fourth stolen vehicle we’ve had this week.”

  “Great,” Jeremy said.

  Aunt Faith reheated the dinner none of them had touched. They ate the meal in a silence no one tried to break.

  Two days later Tom went to check the mail. One of the letters was a fat manila envelope with TOM printed on it.

  When he opened it, there were seventy one-hundred-dollar bills inside. He came out of his daze sitting on the ground. Seven thousand dollars. God. He hadn’t expected Wayne or Willy to come through.

  He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then he quickly tucked the envelope inside his jacket.

  When he got upstairs and opened the rest of the mail, he found the set of fake keys he’d left for Jeremy
.

  “It’s not a good idea,” he said.

  “Oh, come on,” Paulina said. “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out.”

  The house was dark in front, but the driveway was jammed with cars and empty beer cases. They went into the yard. The backdoor swung open. A woman, laughing, stumbled out and fell in a mud puddle. She laughed harder. Her friend tried to pick her up and slipped. They both sat in the mud, pointing at themselves and clutching their sides. They crawled toward each other and kissed.

  “Gross,” Paulina said. “Come on, come on, let’s get inside before we die of pneumonia.”

  The heavy throb of reggae pulsed through the open door. Just as they reached it, it slammed shut. A single light bulb above the doorway lit the backyard. Paulina pounded on the door.

  “Ben! Ben! Open the door!”

  “Well,” Tom said. “Too bad. Maybe we can come back later.”

  “Oh, don’t party poop. He just can’t hear us. Help me.”

  Tom knocked halfheartedly. Even though the rain was soaking his collar and dripping down his shirt, he started to smile.

  “Shit,” Paulina said. “Come on, open up!”

  Her carefully curled hair was going flat and her eyeliner was leaking down her face in aqua streams. Her dress was becoming transparent and her nipples were hard points. Tom looked away.

  The door opened and they came up against a thick wall of bodies.

  “It’s about fucking time,” Paulina snapped, shaking her head and spraying drops of water.

  Everywhere people were dancing, now to the insistent beat of a heavy metal bass. A man screamed, and the whole room started screaming. Paulina wrapped her arm around his shoulders and screamed. Tom opened his mouth but felt silly so he did nothing. Paulina kissed him, her hand cool on his neck. He put a hand on her waist and kissed her back. They were shoved together by the crowd. Paulina pushed him away.

  “Kitchen,” she mouthed, over the noise and music.

  He followed her through the living room to the kitchen. At the stove a girl with no teeth was heating butter knives on the burners. She placed a little black-brown ball of hash at the end of each knife and handed them to people who paid her. A bald man put a hashish ball between two heated butter knives, then put the knives under his nose and inhaled deeply. Tom was watching him so intently he didn’t notice a smear of chip dip on the floor and slipped. He landed against a woman with a snake wound around her neck. She licked his forehead before he could jerk away from her. A man sitting inside a freezer chest was selling booze. Paulina took a soggy fifty-dollar bill from her purse and waved it at him. She cupped her hands and made as if to swallow something. He pulled a small plastic bag from his leather vest and showed it to her. Paulina nodded and gave him the fifty.

  “Can we leave now?” Tom shouted.

  She shook her head and plunged into the crowd of partyers blocking the doorway. Tom went after her. The snake lady pinched him hard as he went by. Tom jumped, slapping her hand away. She stuck her tongue out and wiggled it. Paulina called him from the other side of the living room, near a set of stairs. He looked back once to see the snake lady smiling at him. The snake slithered off her shoulders then and the snake lady had to duck down and grope around the floor for it.

  “Take this,” Paulina said as he sat beside her on the steps. She caught his hand and put shriveled bits of black leather in it.

  “This?”

  “Shrooms with a kick,” she said, opening her own palm to show him that she had the same thing. She popped them in her mouth and started to chew. Tom made a face. Paulina swallowed.

  “They’ll totally relax you. Come on. You want to have fun, right?”

  He nodded.

  “These’re just relaxers. You don’t want them, don’t take them,” she said, shrugging. Her face was hard. She watched him, disapproving. He cleared his throat and popped the mushrooms in his mouth the way he’d seen her do it. They had the texture of stale beef jerky.

  “Good, Tommy,” she said, kissing his nose. “Tell me when you feel it working.”

  When she wasn’t looking he spat most of it on the floor.

  “Anything yet?” she said, kissing his chin.

  He shook his head. He felt bad, but he didn’t want to spasm all over the floor in front of her if it reacted with his medication, and he didn’t want to explain it either.

  “Wait a few minutes.”

  Paulina led him back into the center of the living room. The music changed again, to techno, something with whales in the background. He thought they might be humpbacks.

  Paulina smiled at him and his heart almost stopped. She pulled him close and nibbled his earlobe, her teeth pulling on it lightly. Her tongue was warm and slippery. Then it wasn’t her tongue but a slug trying to crawl into his ear, and he yanked away.

  “What’s wro-wrong-ong?” Paulina said.

  The floor was suddenly miles away. “I think iz working.” He was glad he hadn’t swallowed the whole handful.

  “Come on-on-on-on. Thiz away-ay.”

  Paulina’s hair writhed. Tom touched it and she grabbed his hand and towed him up some stairs, to a room at the end of the hall.

  “Leeeeave the light offff,” she said, undulating.

  Tom nodded, hitting his head against a wall that bent down and curved over him like a rainbow.

  Paulina pulled out a bronze key and unlocked the door. She let him go in first. He drifted by her, carried on a breeze. The room was completely black, but when Tom looked up he saw a red eye watching him from a corner.

  Paulina staggered in and shut the door. He heard her swearing. He squinted hard. The red eye in the corner was unblinking. Stars popped into existence on the ceiling. The moon appeared briefly, then disappeared behind the curtains.

  “It’s lock-ock-ocked,” Paulina said loudly.

  Lights flared to life. Tom couldn’t stop staring at the bulb as it swayed back and forth.

  “Surprise!” Jeremy was standing under the light. He pulled a string and the light went off and on like a strobe. He had his other hand on a video camera. “Bet I’m the last person you expected to see-pected-to-see-to-see.”

  Tom ran for the door but the floor was mud sucking at his feet. Jeremy didn’t stop him. When Tom reached the door, the doorknob melted. He tried to turn it but it stretched like taffy.

  “Paulina!” he shouted.

  She was standing by the video camera.

  “Open-pen it,” Tom said.

  Jeremy came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Tom’s chest. “Jesus Christ,” Jeremy said. “What’s the-mat-the-mat-the-matter with him?”

  “Gave him gave a little something.”

  “You stupid bitch, stupid bitch, you know I wanted him sober.” Jeremy’s voice was loud and ringing, right beside his ear, a bell. “I think you’d better leave, Paulina-na-na.”

  She shook her head. The video camera tilted. “I want stuff, my stuff, you know, stuff. Watch the birdie, kid, the birdie.”

  His jacket peeled away like dead skin. Jeremy threw it and it landed on the bed behind him. Hands from nowhere reached for his shirt and Tom hit them away. The floor grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him down. Jeremy left him there, on the floor, and moved in ever so slow-mo to Paulina, who looked at him blankly, even when he smacked her against the wall and she slithered down and he kicked her head, kicked her head, and kicked her head.

  “Stop!” Tom shouted, sitting up.

  Jeremy picked up a pair of handcuffs and turned to Tom.

  “What-at-at do-ing?” Tom said, pushing himself onto his knees.

  Jeremy shoved him and the room tilted and bobbed. Tom wondered how Jeremy was standing on the wall. Jeremy put one foot against Tom’s neck. “Did you-you-did-think-you-think-you could get away with it?” Jeremy lifted his foot and Tom rolled away, but when he stopped his wrists were stuck behind his back. Jeremy lit a cigarette. “Any requests, last requests?”

  “Stop it!” Tom shouted.


  Jeremy took a deep drag and blew the smoke in Tom’s face.

  Tom tried to keep in the present, tried to keep his head from following the lights and the sounds. He knew he was in deep, too deep too far. Jeremy smoked his cigarette until it was almost gone and then he stubbed it out on Tom’s shoulder.

  The room went golden, went flat as a sunlit wheat field.

  Tom screamed for help as Jeremy lit another cigarette and smoked it, watching him, not smiling but not looking sorry. The burn hurt. The room—he saw things on the walls, saw things on the ceiling, and heard himself screaming, “The ceiling.” Jeremy butted the cigarette out on his other shoulder. It felt like someone had stretched his skin between hot knives. Jeremy started a third cigarette, which he slowly inserted up Tom’s nostril.

  The pain let him focus hard for a moment. He stopped screaming. He found a memory and clung to it, said, “Super. Cali. Fragi. Listic—” He panicked because it was sliding away again. He couldn’t hold it. He tried again, he struggled to remember, but he kept forgetting the whole word, the word, the whole word. Jeremy was staring at Tom, at Tom who was sliding toward the ceiling until Jeremy raised his fist and brought it down like judgment.

  Fourth Contact

  “I’d drive you home,” Jeremy said, “but I don’t have a car.”

  Tom stayed completely still, curled up on his side on the bed.

  “I know you’re awake,” his cousin said.

  The party downstairs was slowing down. The music was still pounding through the floor but the voices had stopped. He’d come to slowly. He could remember most of what happened.

  “Paulina’s pissed at us,” Jeremy said. “I had to give her major stuff to keep her mouth shut.”

  Tom’s hands were still cuffed behind his back. When he was waking up he thought they were frozen together, but then, as he became more alert, he felt the metal biting into his skin.

  Jeremy sighed. Tom guessed that if he wanted to he could scream loud enough to attract attention. The muted sounds of people leaving echoed through the house.

  The bed shifted as Jeremy stood up. Tom tensed. Jeremy’s steps went around the bed. He stopped in front of Tom.

  “Open your eyes, Tommy-boy.” Jeremy hit the bed near Tom’s face. “Now.”