Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi

by Nanci Kincaid

  Arnold was staring at his hands, his head bowed. “Thank you, then.”

  Truely watched him for a minute. This was a posture he had not seen in Arnold before, the slumped shoulders, the refusal to make eye contact. It occurred to Truely that it was already happening, the defeat Arnold had somehow managed to outrun all his life was settling in.

  “Sit up, man. Hold your head up.” Truely tried to speak without anger.

  Arnold shifted in his seat. It was almost like he welcomed some instructions, even of the simplest nature. He pressed his shoulders back against his chair. He lifted his gaze and looked Truely in the eye cautiously.

  “Here’s the thing,” Truely said. “Over the years I’ve lost a lot of people who meant something to me. They died, they left me, or they stayed when I left, they grew up or grew old, they changed their minds — whatever. I know you know what I’m talking about here. You’ve been losing people all your life too — and you started damn young. So this is the thing, Arnold. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to lose anybody else I care about. You understand me? Dammit, I can’t afford it.”

  “Okay.” Arnold looked at Truely, then cast his eyes down again, his shoulders going limp again.

  “Sit up straight, man. Don’t slump.”

  Arnold straightened his shoulders and sat up in his chair.

  “Damn if I understand all this.” Truely laid his hands down on the tabletop. “Damn if any of this makes any sense to me.”

  “I know,” Arnold said. “Me neither.”

  Twenty-eight

  TRUELY GOT A FLIGHT out to San Francisco. Jaxon was picking him up at SFO and they had plans to brainstorm a second-round presentation they would be giving to the Global Air people. It would do Truely good to get his mind off the mess in San Diego. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw Arnold’s nervous face behind the Plexiglas wall, holding the phone in his hand, saying, “Man, I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

  He remembered the surge of emotion that had risen in him. “Arnold,” he’d said. “You can count on me. Don’t you know that by now? I’m not going to let you down.”

  Arnold had nearly cried then. And Truely had come damn close.

  JAXON WAS GETTING GRAY. Truely guessed that if a guy had four kids, three of them girls, then yes, he was going to go gray fast. Melissa liked to tease him that he was getting distinguished — and Truely actually thought he was. He looked like a successful man, happy with his life, at peace with the world. “How’s it going down there?” Jaxon slung Truely’s bag in the car. “Anything we can do to help out? Really, man, all you got to do is ask. I know how much you care about that kid.”

  “Yeah,” Truely said. “Arnold is the great irritant of my life — for sure. Funny, here he is locked up down in San Diego, caught up in one hell of a big mess — and yet if anybody asked me I’d say that if I ever had a son, you know — I’d want him to be like Arnold. Just like him.”

  “When you get this thing sorted out,” Jaxon said, “you’re going to need to bring your irritant around to Woodside to hang out with our four irritants. I think they’d hit it off.” Jaxon slapped Truely’s back affectionately. “If you ask me, Arnold has worked a miracle no one before him has been able to pull off — he’s made Truely Noonan a family man.”

  “Who knew?” Truely said.

  JAXON DROVE TRUELY to Mariposa Street and they talked business the whole time. They’d hired a guy to put together a flashy video of the new tChair. It would be their first time to see what he had come up with. Truely wanted some time to put his own thoughts together first. Jaxon counted on Truely to be the big-idea guy. Jaxon was the find-a-way-to-get-it-done guy. They were a great team that way.

  “Listen, True,” Jaxon said when he let Truely out at his place. “This is not a plot or anything. You know Melissa and Lanie are good friends. She’s at the house a lot these days. Anyway, Melissa is coming into the city tonight to meet me for dinner. She’s bringing Lanie. So that’s your heads-up. No pressure. Are you in or out, buddy?”

  “In.” Truely’s answer surprised him as much as it did Jaxon, who was clearly pleased.

  TRUELY MADE HIS WAY UPSTAIRS in the clumsy industrial-style elevator, which was slow and noisy. He walked to his door and unlocked it, swung it wide open, slung his bag on the floor and looked head-on at the white sheet monstrosity precariously constructed in the middle of the space. Arnold’s room.

  He had made sure it was only temporary — like everything else in his life. Arnold never assumed anything beyond the moment. “Courtney will hate it too, right?” he’d said. Truely was surprised to feel so overcome at the sight of it. Arnold had claimed the heart of this space as his own — and, with or without Truely’s cooperation, he had made it his home.

  On the kitchen bar sat Arnold’s GED for Dummies book and a stack of other books and papers Courtney had gathered to usher him into the world of high school graduates. His work boots were just inside the front door, his coat was slung over the back of a chair. Lord, Arnold. Arnold was everywhere. Truely walked over to Arnold’s sheet-draped semi-bedroom and pulled a sheet open. On the sofa that he had converted into his bed lay a couple of audiobooks and a little notepad he carried in his coat pocket.

  Truely sat down on the improvised bed. With the sheet pulled open he could see the city outside — vast and beautiful, but daunting and ominous too. He hoped Arnold had felt safe here, in this loft, sleeping in this homemade tent. He hadn’t thought to wonder before. But now it seemed the most important thing of all — that Arnold had felt safe. “You ain’t going to leave me up here, are you?” he had said shortly before the police arrived and took him off to jail.

  Truely held his head in his hands. His instinct was to pray for Arnold, to call on God to do what he could not do himself — keep Arnold safe — but instead of prayer a backwash of regret overtook him.

  LATER WHEN MELISSA AND LANIE CRASHED in on the tChair powwow down at the Mariposa Street warehouse, Truely and Jaxon realized that they had lost track of time — easy to do since they felt such passion for their project. Also Truely had welcomed the distraction from recent negative events and given in to it completely. They were both high on the plethora of business possibilities and it showed — a joyful sort of natural drunkenness.

  When Melissa flicked the light switch on and off a few times to signal their arrival — and the imposed end of the workday — Truely looked up to see Lanie standing beside Melissa and he realized he was glad to see her. She, on the other hand, looked cautious and unsure whether or not she was equally glad. Why the hell hadn’t he ever called her? Damn. He knew better. Women liked to be called after spending time with a man. He knew that, didn’t he? Would it kill him to play by the rules?

  Melissa had made reservations at this new place called The Porch. It was Southern-based cuisine. She thought Truely might especially like it. And he did.

  When Jaxon and Melissa saw old friends and were called away from the table, leaving Lanie and him alone for a few minutes, Truely said, “I’m glad you came tonight. It’s good to see you.”

  “Thanks.” She busied herself sipping her drink.

  “I know I didn’t call. I guess you think I’m a jerk.”

  “I don’t guess it would surprise you to know that I have extremely low expectations — the lowest — where you’re concerned?”

  He laughed.

  “Jaxon and Melissa are the ones who think you’re such a great guy. Not me.” She smiled and Truely appreciated the gesture.

  “This is not an excuse,” he said, “but I’ve been going through a pretty hard time with a kid that —”

  “Arnold?” She spoke his name with such familiarity. “Melissa said he’s your adopted son or something, right?”

  “Not exactly. He’s a kid who has gotten himself into a terrible mess. I’ve been staying down in San Diego recently. Fly back tomorrow actually. We’re trying to see if we can get the charges dropped and get him released.”

  “He’s
in jail?” She was clearly interested.

  “Illegal possession of a weapon. Drug possession with intent to distribute. Attempted murder. Whatever they can make stick.”

  “Good grief, Truely.”

  “He made a bad mistake in judgment. He’s not a criminal. Far from it.”

  “Guess he’s glad to have you in his corner.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet him sometime. You’d love him.”

  “Well, clearly you do,” she said.

  AFTER DINNER Jaxon and Melissa needed to hurry home as usual. Their kids were too old for a babysitter, so instead there were dozens of cell phone calls going back and forth between Melissa and the kids throughout dinner. “It’s always like this,” Jaxon said. “I don’t know what makes us think we can go out like a couple of adults and have an adult dinner.”

  “When they’re grown and gone we’re going to miss all this,” Melissa insisted, her hand over the mouth of the phone. “But we do need to go. The natives are getting restless.”

  “You guys go ahead,” Truely volunteered. “We’ll get a cab. I’ll get Lanie home.”

  Melissa looked at Lanie with doubt. “You sure?” she asked.

  “It’s okay,” Lanie said. “He’s harmless.”

  Melissa looked very unsure about leaving Lanie with Truely, a man who had proven himself to be nothing more than a disappointment waiting to happen. She seemed unwilling to abandon her friend. Finally Jaxon grabbed Melissa’s arm. “Let’s go,” he insisted. “While the house is still standing.”

  Once they were gone Truely said, “Look, why don’t we get a cab over to my place. I’d like to show you something.”

  “Your etchings?” Lanie said.

  It was the first time in a while Truely could remember laughing out loud.

  Lanie seemed unsure whether this was a good idea. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s late.”

  “Afterward I’ll deliver you home in a timely fashion. I promise.”

  “Okay,” she acquiesced. “I’m half curious.”

  They cabbed over to Truely’s building. Truely hoped he hadn’t oversold the sight awaiting Lanie. Maybe not everyone would be intrigued by a homemade tent in the middle of an upscale loft. Maybe she would miss the point entirely and be bored. Truely actually felt nervous. He had not invited a woman to his place since he split with Shauna. That seemed now like a long, long time ago. Shauna had morphed into an unpleasant woman who could not be reasoned with, who was void of what Truely considered basic compassion for a kid like Arnold.

  When they got inside the loft Lanie seemed to know instantly what she was there to see. “Wow. It’s like the forts my sister and I used to make in our parents’ living room when we were kids — only this one is clearly designed for an adult.”

  “Arnold made it,” Truely said. “I just came home one night and there it was. ‘For privacy,’ he said. ‘So you don’t have to be looking at me every minute.’ Truely felt his voice go soft — and so he went silent until he could get his volume back.

  Lanie walked over to the sheet monstrosity. “Can I open it? Is it okay to look inside?”

  “Sure.” He was relieved that she was intrigued. He watched her gently tug one of the sheets open.

  “What holds this up?” She looked overhead.

  “Fishing line.”

  “Very clever.”

  “Yep.”

  “So Arnold slept in here?”

  “He did.”

  “And these are his CDs here? These audiobooks?”

  “He didn’t select them, mind you. My sister, Courtney, sort of imposed them on him. Trying to get him ready to pass the GED. But he was game. He plugged in every night and listened to the damn things.”

  “Nice vibe here,” Lanie said. “If you believe in vibes.”

  “I do,” he said, surprising himself.

  “So you’re going to leave this up, this tent? Wait until he comes back?”

  “You make it sound like I’ve got a vigil going here — or something.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I keep thinking I need to call an architect and get some walls put in this place — surprise him when he comes back with a real room, you know.”

  “God, you miss him a lot, don’t you?”

  Truely felt that sway of the earth beneath him which was usually what happened right before he lost his composure. He turned and walked toward the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?” He swiped at his eyes with a napkin.

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” Lanie said.

  “Lord knows, I didn’t bring you over here to see what a big baby I am. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He opened a bottle of red pinot and poured two glasses.

  Lanie walked into the kitchen. “These belong to Arnold too?” She ran her fingers over Arnold’s books and papers.

  “He wasn’t the greatest reader, you know. He struggled. But he’s plenty smart. Courtney was determined that the more he read the more confident reader he would become. Seemed like it was working too. He improved a lot.”

  “Your sister sounds like quite a lady,” Lanie said.

  “The best,” he said. “She’s intense, you know, but she’s all heart. She sent Arnold some books first thing — sent them to the jail. They allow him to have five at a time, paperbacks only, and they have to be sent directly from a publisher or bookstore. They’re worried about contraband, right? She sent him The Autobiography of Malcolm X. He already listened to it on CD. Now she wants him to read it for himself because, you know, it’s about the way going to prison transformed the guy. He went in a nobody — and came out a great leader.”

  “I hope it helps,” Lanie said.

  Truely handed her a glass of wine. His hand was trembling just slightly. Not enough for her to notice, he thought. He knew his eyes were glistening. He knew he was talking too much too, but he had wanted so much to talk to somebody about Arnold. And here was Lanie — willing to listen.

  “I appreciate your coming tonight,” he said again.

  “It’s been interesting.” She smiled.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been hard to get along with.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “It really doesn’t.”

  Truely wasn’t sure how to understand her slight standoffishness. It occurred to him that he misunderstood her interest in him — in both degree and description. “Wait,” he said. “Don’t tell me. While I was busy being a pain in the ass, you met somebody else? Is that it?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  Truely felt more disappointed at the news than he would have expected. “Lucky guy,” he said. “Good for you.”

  “I was going to mention it,” she said, “but why? It’s nothing serious yet, he’s just a really nice guy. You’ve probably heard that really nice guys are pretty rare — especially for women my age.”

  “Like I said — lucky guy.” Truely took Lanie’s arm. “Come over here, I’ll show you our view of the city from the terrace. It’s the reason we bought this place to start with. Here” — he grabbed Arnold’s jacket from the chair where he’d left it and draped it over her shoulders — “it’s chilly out.”

  They sat on the unlit terrace for a long time, talking. Lanie asked him about Arnold’s family and Truely found himself talking at length about Vonnie and Coletta. He told her about Vonnie crying when Arnold wouldn’t let her stay at the hotel, about their odd Thanksgiving at the Hyatt, about their place at Bay Vista Apartments with the rough-looking boys lounging around out front. He even found himself talking a little about Arnold’s mother — only maybe fifteen years old when Arnold was born. He did not tell Lanie the rest of it — his daddy getting shot, his mother now in jail. He reserved the telling of that story for Arnold. It would be his to tell — or not.

  Truely was grateful that he was not alone staring at evidence of Arnold everywhere he looked. He appreciated Lanie being interested, asking questions and listening to his attempts to answer honestly. />
  He had not expected her to spend the night. It had gotten very late. They had moved inside and sat down briefly inside Arnold’s sheet tent. Truely had kissed her. That was all. One kiss. They lay down on the sofa turned improvised bed, and with Truely’s arm loosely draped over Lanie and a ragged quilt pulled over them, they slept.

  SUNDAY NIGHT Mose Jones was doing the Raiders-Chargers game in San Diego. He and Truely had planned to get together the following day — and Truely was looking forward to it. He talked to Mose on the phone fairly often now, so Mose was reasonably updated on the bleak turn of events concerning Arnold, whom he had never even met.

  Arnold’s lawyer, a guy named Mike Wineberg, invited Truely and Mose to play eighteen holes at La Jolla Country Club. Over the last couple of months Truely had inadvertently gotten to know Mike pretty well, first by phone, and lately from their joint trips to visit Arnold at the jail. Mike’s firm was doing its best for Arnold’s mother, and more important, Mike was doing his best for Arnold. Truely figured it could only help to have Mose hear whatever Mike had to say about Arnold’s situation. He trusted Mose with the information — all of it. He knew Mose loved golf too, so the day’s venue was perfect. Mose wasn’t a great golfer and that drove him crazy — made him more competitive than ever. They hadn’t played a round together in a long time. It should be a good day.

  Meanwhile Truely was sprawled across the hotel bed with a six-pack of cold beer and some room service — nachos, a burger with fries, some barbecue chicken wings. He was planning to watch the Chargers game, listen to Mose pontificate, and maybe even doze off a time or two if he was lucky.

  Immediately when he’d returned to San Diego late Saturday he’d called Lanie to check in, just to say thanks and to show her that he wasn’t quite as clueless as he appeared. It was a small thing — but he felt good about it.

  Originally Courtney was supposed to come back to San Diego with him and they planned to watch tonight’s game together. But she had a meeting scheduled on Monday with Hastings and their respective lawyers, who were trying to sort out the divorce agreement, so she postponed her return to the Hyatt until Tuesday. She had promised to take Vonnie shopping when she came back. Vonnie had called Truely twice already to make sure Courtney hadn’t changed her mind.