by T. Greenwood
“No,” Sara said. “She’s going to Vegas.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, I’ll only be gone two nights. I figured I’d head up after work on Friday. The wedding is Saturday morning, and the reception is Saturday night. I’ll leave first thing in the morning on Sunday. I can be home before you even wake up. Maude will keep you company.”
She frowned and sighed. “Where are they having the wedding?”
“That old stone church? Our Lady of Guadelupe, I think,” he said.
“I wish I could go,” she said sadly. “I feel so trapped.”
Ben nodded. He couldn’t imagine being stuck in bed like this. Her patience so far had been remarkable. He was actually surprised by how little she had complained.
“I’ll bring you back some carrot muffins from Macy’s,” he said, sitting down next to her on the couch. He reached and touched her belly. “Does baby girl want some carrot muffins?”
Appeased, she said, “Fine.”
The week went slowly. Work was quiet, the minutes and hours dragging. The clock on the wall announcing the slow passing of each moment with a hollow tick. It gave Ben plenty of time to think, though, about what he needed to do. His plan was, indeed, to leave right after work on Friday. Since Frank was out of town, he wouldn’t be meeting him for lunch. He could probably leave a couple of hours early to dodge some of the rush-hour traffic.
Ned had invited him to stay at his place. He would check in with Ned and then go to Flag Brewing Company to find Jenny as soon as he got into town. He thought that if he could just talk to her, just let her know how serious all of this was, that she might reconsider talking to the police. It was a long shot, he knew. She was Fitch’s girlfriend. The chances of her speaking up were small. But if Ben didn’t try, if he didn’t at least make an attempt, then he would never forgive himself. And he had sensed something when he spoke to her the first time. She’d teared up even as she denied being at the party that night. She clearly knew something. She was the key. And she might be his only chance to finally put this behind him. And there was an urgency now to all of this. The fact that Joe and Fitch knew that Shadi was in town terrified him. Even with the reassuring sound of her voice each time he called, he couldn’t put out of his mind the way Joe had said her name. Shadi Begay. And now, beyond all that, Frank’s connection to Martin Bello made it seem even more important to set things right. He didn’t want Frank connected in any way to this business. To that man. To that night.
Ben stopped by the house after work to get his suitcase and to say good-bye to Sara. She was outside by the pool, on the laptop, sipping a glass of lemonade.
“Hi,” he said.
She set the glass down and motioned for him to come to her. He sat down next to her on the lawn chair, and she put her arms around him.
“Do you have to go?” she said.
He nodded and squeezed her hand. “Listen, I want you to order something to eat tonight and tomorrow, Chinese or pizza or whatever you want. Do not get up to cook,” he said. “I picked up a couple of movies for you. I’ve got my cell phone in case you need me, and I’ll be back Sunday morning. I promise.”
She nodded like an obedient child.
“I mean it about dinner,” he said. “And don’t do anything else you’re not supposed to do.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting. When she kissed him, her breath was musty.
He didn’t like the idea of leaving Sara by herself, but he also knew that she would not take any chances. He knew that she was bored, frustrated, and that the prospect of another fifteen weeks of this was excruciating. But Sara, if nothing else, played by the rules. He knew he could trust her.
When Ben stood up to leave, Sara pulled his hand. “Couldn’t you just leave early tomorrow morning?” she said.
“I promised I’d be there tonight. To help get ready,” he said.
By the time he got to Flagstaff, the sun had set, and the blue-black sky was flecked with pinpricks of light. He pulled into Ned’s driveway. Ned’s Honda was parked there, and so was Hippo’s truck. There was a warm yellow light through the drawn curtains, and he felt happy as he knocked on the door. The air smelled like snow. Like home.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Ned said when he opened the door. He threw his arm over Ben’s shoulder and ushered him into the living room. Hippo was sitting on the couch.
“Here’s a man enjoying his last night of freedom,” Ned said, shaking his head at Hippo, who was drinking a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and watching a Suns game on Ned’s small black-and-white TV “Really living it up.”
“Hey, dude,” Hippo said, standing up and giving Ben a handshake and hug.
“You ready for tomorrow?” Ben asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. It’s really not a big deal. Just about a dozen people. Neither one of us wanted to make a fuss.”
Ben thought about the Pointe, about the ballrooms and china and crystal goblets. He thought about parquet dance floors and itchy tuxedoes and squeaky shoes. He thought about filet mignon and duck à l’orange and chalky candy-covered almonds tied into neat little bundles. Calligraphy and taffeta and moaning violins.
“So what’s my job?” Ben asked. “Some sort of toast? Do you guys have rings I need to hold on to?”
Hippo flicked up his ring finger to show what looked like a fresh tattoo: an intricate Celtic knot encircling his finger in ink.
“Nice,” Ben said. “Em get one too?”
“Yep.”
“You want a beer?” Ned asked, disappearing into the kitchen.
“Please,” Ben said and sat down next to Hippo on the couch. “Who’s winning?”
They decided to go celebrate Hippo’s last night of bachelorhood at Brews & Cues: shoot some pool, have some drinks, and then get to bed. Emily said he needed to be at the church by nine. She had also insisted that she and Hippo spend the night apart. “A real old-fashioned girl,” Ben had said with a laugh. Emily with her serpentine tattoos and multiple facial piercings. Emily, who spent the first ten years of her life on a commune in New Mexico and who had worked as a carnie for six years after dropping out of college.
“Why are you guys having a church wedding?” Ben asked.
“For the grandma. She’s like ninety-nine. Em promised her she’d get married at Guadelupe. That side of the family’s all Mexican Catholics,” Hippo said. Ben remembered Shadi’s grandmother, all the velvet and silver of her.
“And they’re letting you in the church too?” Ned asked.
“Hey, man, I’ve been taking Pre-Cana classes for the last two months.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “That’s love.”
And it was love. Ben had watched their relationship unfold, watched Hippo unfold. When he first started working at Jack’s, Hippo was always irritated. Sarcastic and grumpy. Ben had avoided him for the first six months at the bar. But then Hippo met Emily, and it was like watching a fist unclench. Like watching a dry and hardened sponge soften in warm water.
He’d never seen such an easy couple, a couple so simply happy to be around each other. Emily was smart and cute. She had a great unrestrained laugh. When she and Hippo were together, they both couldn’t stop smiling. They were so content. Ben envied this. They loved Flagstaff. They loved their jobs. They loved each other. The life they were making made sense.
“Rack ‘em up,” Hippo said as a table finally opened up, and Ben complied.
Ben was just an average pool player. He’d never played before he moved to Flagstaff. He’d somehow made it through college without learning. But everyone in Flagstaff seemed to play pool. He’d even seen little kids shooting pool with their dads during the day at some of the bars.
“Hey, anything ever come of the police investigation about that Indian kid you found?” Ned asked. “I heard that kid Lucky got out of the hospital and went back to the rez. But I haven’t seen anything in the papers.”
Ben felt his skin prickle. He took a sip from his beer bottle. It had grown warm while h
e was playing. “I think you were right about one of the frat boy’s dads being involved. He was actually one of my students. That kid Joe Bello. Real asshole. His dad is running for governor.”
“Shit,” Hippo said.
“There’s a girl, though, who I think was there too. The girlfriend of one of the guys. If I could just get her to talk to the police …”
“Why the hell would she do that?” Ned asked as he made a bank shot. “You think after what happened to Lucky, anybody’s going to say anything?”
Ben tensed. Shadi Begay.
“Never mind that it’s her boyfriend,” Hippo said.
Ben shook his head. She was his last chance, and he needed to believe that there was still the possibility of making this right. For Ricky. For his sister.
“Well, how do we find her?” Ned asked.
“She works at Flag Brew,” Ben said, and smiled.
They made their way across the tracks and up the street. It was starting to snow, but it was a listless snow, directionless, light. It landed on their shoulders and quickly melted. It wasn’t cold enough to stick.
It was a quiet night at Flag Brew, early still. They sat down at the bar, and Hippo ordered them all drinks. “Is Jenny working tonight?” he asked the bartender, a girl Ben didn’t recognize.
“She’ll be in at eight thirty,” she said.
“What time is it now?” Ben asked.
“Eight,” Ned said.
“Why don’t we go sit outside for a bit?” Hippo said.
“In the snow?” Ned asked.
“It’s my fucking party,” Hippo said and smacked Ned on the back.
Fifteen minutes later, the girl came walking down the sidewalk. Ben might not have recognized her if not for the pink boots. Her hair was cropped short now, to her chin. When she came into the light, Ben also noticed that she had a nasty black eye.
He stood up, willed his legs to hold him.
“Jenny?” he asked.
She squinted and cocked her head.
“Yeah?” she said.
“We met a couple months ago.” He put his hand out and she shook it reluctantly. “I was asking you about Halloween night. My name’s Ben. I’m the one who found Ricky. The Indian guy, the one who got beat up.”
“You said your name was Gary,” she said. She shook her head and dropped his hand.
Ben sighed.
Ned and Hippo sat watching.
“I lied,” he said. “And I know what happened that night.”
The girl looked around nervously. “Listen,” she said. “I’m supposed to work in, like, ten minutes.”
“What happened to your eye?” he asked.
She was quiet, seeming to appraise the situation. She started to walk to the door and then stopped. She came back and said, “Listen. Why don’t you meet me tomorrow? I’m working lunch, but I’ll be out by four. But don’t come here. Meet me at the Zane Grey Room. You know, the bar upstairs at the Weatherford Hotel? And you can leave these guys at home.”
Ben nodded. Jesus, he hoped this wasn’t some sort of setup. He hoped to God she wasn’t going to go give her boyfriend a call and let him know that somebody was sniffing around, asking questions. It didn’t matter. He’d just have to take his chances.
“I’ll be there. Four o’clock,” he said.
And he felt light all of a sudden. As she disappeared inside the doors, he looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, let the snow land and melt on his eyelids. This was it. This was all he’d hoped for. For someone to speak up. For someone to tell the truth.
“The next round is on me,” Ben said, returning to the table where Ned and Hippo were waiting. Then he remembered Sara at home, figured she was probably making her way to bed, and texted her: Sweet dreams.
That night, Ben dreamed about snow. In this dream, he was in Phoenix, at their town house, but when he pulled back the blinds, there was nothing but snow as far as he could see. An avalanche had enclosed the house. Every window was filled. The skylight in the bathroom was obscured. When he turned on the faucets, snow came pouring out. The cupboards were filled with it. The refrigerator and stove and drawers. He awoke shivering.
He was sleeping on Ned’s couch. He looked at the clock on the cable box by the TV It was only fourA.M. He was thirsty and got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He flicked on the kitchen light and took a glass from the cupboard; as he turned on the faucet, he looked out the window and there was nothing but snow. Another blizzard. He smiled.
The wedding was short and simple, an abbreviated version of the other Catholic weddings Ben had attended. Emily looked so pretty in a vintage white minidress, like a ‘50s pinup girl with her black bangs and red lipstick and long legs. Hippo cleaned up well too, in a black suit and purple paisley silk shirt. There were only a dozen or so guests: her parents, her grandmother, and Hippo’s mom in from Vegas. Ben and Ned stood up for Hippo, and Emily’s girlfriends, Tia and Loretta, stood up for her. Emily clutched a bouquet of dark red roses that matched her lips.
As they exchanged their vows, Ben tried to imagine standing up next to Sara in a few months. Tried to think about the baby girl that would be there too. About the words he might say to her. Tried to think about that life that felt as distant to him as someone else’s dream.
Emily cried, her false eyelashes fluttering. And Hippo’s voice cracked as he recited the e. e. cummings poem he’d scratched onto a piece of paper, which he pulled out of his suit pocket. When they embraced, Ben felt his throat grow a little thick. And he felt both happy for them and so disappointed. So sad for everything he did not have, would never feel.
After the ceremony, they all piled into Loretta’s Thunder-bird and made their way to Jack’s to celebrate.
About halfway through the party, Ben excused himself, patting Hippo on the back. “Congratulations, man. I am so happy for you. I’m going to go meet that chick over at the Zane Grey Room.”
“If you’re not back in an hour, I’ll send reinforcements,” Hippo said.
When Ben laughed, Hippo shook his head. “I’m not kidding.”
It was warm and quiet in the old Weatherford Hotel. He went up the winding staircase, dizzied by the patterned carpet and wallpaper. The Zane Grey Room was empty except for the bartender and the girl, Jenny, who was sitting by herself at a table near the bar. Ben’s shoulders relaxed.
“Hi,” he said, going to her and sitting down when she motioned to the chair opposite her.
“Why are you so dressed up?” she asked.
“I had a wedding this morning,” he said. “Oh.”
“Thanks for seeing me,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward in his suit and tie.
“Now, we have to make this really quick, okay?” she asked. “He’s watching me like a fucking hawk.”
“Fitch?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes darting across the empty bar.
“Did he do that to your eye?”
Her face was plain but pretty. But her eye was a disaster. Whoever did this wasn’t messing around.
“I told him I wanted to break up,” she said. “I can’t take this anymore. The police have been asking questions. Nobody will say a fucking thing. The brothers, they’d do anything for each other. It’s scary.” Her hands were trembling. He could see her nails were bitten to the quick, pink polish chipped down to the cuticles.
“Did they question you?” Ben asked.
She shook her head. “The guys told them there weren’t any girls there.”
“You were there, though, right?”
She nodded, looked down at the table. “I didn’t know he died. There wasn’t anything in the paper.”
“Have you gone to the police?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It was awful,” she said, looking up. “The things they were saying to him. He was just a kid trying to have a good time. They totally let loose on him.”
“How did the fight start?” Ben asked. “What happened?”
Halloween night, befor
e the snow, before winter came.
Ben had forgotten, but the moon had been so bright, like a burning white hole in the sky. Jenny said it lit up the night, that while she sat out on the porch with her girlfriends, waiting for Joe and Fitch to get back from the store with food and Solo cups, it looked almost like twilight.
There were gauzy spiderwebs strung along the porch railing, a jointed cardboard skeleton hanging at the door. They didn’t have candy for the trick-or-treaters, but they did have tons of booze. The girls were drinking frozen margaritas, had brought the blender out onto the porch, the electrical cord snaking through a window they had cracked open. Jenny was dressed up like a fairy: short skirt, body glitter, a pair of diaphanous wings attached at her shoulder blades. Joe’s girlfriend, Lissy, was Cat Woman.
Fitch and Joe had arranged for a pool tournament with some guys from a rival frat. This was a Halloween tradition. Last year, Fitch won six hundred bucks. This year, he said he wanted to go to sleep with a grand in his pocket. When they got back at around nine, they called the guys from the other frat. They were at Jack’s getting a buzz on; they’d get there when they got there.
A bunch of people started showing up, stopping by on their way to and from the bars. One guy with a really awesome zombie costume brought Jägermeister. Gary. The party was rocking; Jenny almost completely forgot about the pool tournament.
The guys from the other frat didn’t show up to play pool until almost eleven. The party had fizzled out at that point, everybody heading downtown to the bars. Only Jenny and Lissy had stuck around; their other girlfriends had bailed.
“Oh, great,” Jenny had said, answering the door, pissed and feeling a little drunk already. She hated this guy Higgins. He was an idiot. She hated his girlfriend too. A total slut.
“Chill-ax, chica,” Higgins said to her. His girlfriend, Simone, was hanging on his arm, drunk and swaying.
“Dude!” Fitch said, coming up behind Jenny and fist-bumping him.
“Hope you don’t mind, we brought a couple of pledges along,” Higgins said, gesturing to two guys who stood at the foot of the porch with their hands shoved in their pockets. One of them was wearing an ogre mask. The other one’s mask looked like a rotten scarecrow.
