When he eventually got in to see Arnold he had a flood of foreign emotion. Truely had never been a germaphobe — but good Lord, these foul visiting booths were daunting. Greasy, scratched glass, covered in handprints and dried liquid that could be spit or mucus or the remains of a rebuffed kiss or worse. When Truely picked up the phone the residue of human filth crossed his mind. Heaven only knows what sort of disease lurked on the receiver. But he barged ahead. If Arnold had to contend with these circumstances twenty-four hours a day, then maybe he could tolerate it for fifteen minutes once a week.
When Arnold was finally led into his side of the booth he nodded at Truely, but stopped short of his usual smile. Maybe it was Truely’s imagination, but he thought Arnold looked like he was losing weight. He had told Truely that the food was bad — really disgusting — but it didn’t matter, he had said, since he had no appetite anyway. Arnold was Truely’s height, naturally muscular, but now he was looking slender, almost bony.
“Hey, man,” Truely said. “How you doing?”
“I’m ready to get out of this place,” Arnold said. “Look like Ima spend Christmas in here, don’t it?”
“We’re working on it, man,” Truely said. “I hate like hell seeing you in here. Just hang on. Keep the faith.”
“How’s Courtney?” Arnold asked halfheartedly.
“She’s good. She’s been spending some time with Vonnie. Those two are a handful now. She’s going to try to get in to see you Saturday when she brings Coletta and Vonnie over here.”
“Courtney don’t need to come over here,” he said. “She’s a lady that don’t belong nowhere like this.”
“She wants to see you,” Truely said. “Can’t stop Courtney when she makes up her mind. You know that.”
Arnold smiled briefly.
“How is your book supply holding up?” Truely asked. “You need more books sent in?”
“Naw,” he said. “I got plenty.” Arnold ran his hand through his hair — an unfamiliar gesture. Ordinarily Arnold kept his hair fairly short and neat. Now and then he got a design shaved into the back of his scalp. He took pride in his appearance — ghetto-style or whatever. But now that he was in jail his hair was growing out, getting nappy, which Truely knew bothered Arnold. Arnold went to lengths to keep his hair from getting nappy. He’d slept in his wave cap most nights at Truely’s place. Truely wondered if Arnold even had a pick — if they allowed hair picks in jail. How else could he pick his hair out so it wouldn’t mat up and stay itchy?
“They let you get a haircut in there?” Truely asked.
“Yeah,” Arnold said. “They skin you, man, bad. My cellmate come back bleeding where they cut a gash in his ear. I got my name on the waiting list though.”
“It’ll grow back,” Truely said. “It’s just hair.”
Arnold ignored the remark. “Vonnie tell me Courtney buy her some new clothes.”
“They’ve been doing some shopping, yes. They got Christmas presents hidden all over Courtney’s hotel room. Those two got the holiday spirit even if the rest of us don’t.”
“Courtney don’t need to do that. Vonnie got a way of, you know, you give her a inch and she take a mile.”
“Don’t worry,” Truely said. “Courtney is enjoying it more than Vonnie. Believe me. Courtney always overdoes the holidays. She’s known for it. She’s not being taken advantage of, if that’s what you think. Nobody takes advantage of Courtney.”
Arnold smiled. “How her new boyfriend doing?”
“He’s got her flying around in his private plane. He likes her. That’s for sure. To be honest, I haven’t seen that much of him.”
“Courtney had her female surgery yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Maybe we talked her out of it.”
“Maybe.”
“But I doubt it though,” Arnold said.
“Yeah, me too,” Truely agreed.
There was an awkward pause between them, while they scanned for a new topic. Arnold scratched his scalp and shifted slightly in his seat. “I saw that Raider game with Mose Jones doing color,” he said. “You see it?”
“Yeah, I saw it. I spent some time with Mose when he was in town,” Truely said. “He’s breaking ground on a first-class new health facility down in Mississippi. He rehabs athletes. NFL guys mostly. They come from everywhere. I told you that, right? He’s branching out now, expanding to include residential capacity. He’s building it out close to where Courtney and I grew up. Matter of fact, I’m going in on it with him. I’ll be a partner.”
“You putting up money?”
“Yeah, I’m investing,” Truely said.
“How much?” Arnold asked.
Truely laughed. “A lot.” He expounded on the details of Mose’s concept — as Mose had relayed them to him. “A residential fitness and wellness center,” he said, “like a first-rate resort with healing powers.” Arnold listened distractedly, asking few questions, fidgeting in his chair.
So Truely tried moving on to another subject. “Played golf with Mose when he was in town too,” Truely said. “Your attorney, Mike, played with us. Went over to La Jolla. Mike swept us too. We’re demanding a rematch when Mose comes back. Matter of fact, I’m thinking when we get you out of here I’m going to take you out for a couple of rounds of golf. See if you like it. If you do, we’ll get you set up with some clubs and some lessons. Golf is a good game. Character building and can drive you damn crazy too. You might like it.”
“I give it a try,” Arnold said.
“Mike told me he’s got an appointment to see you this afternoon. That right?”
“That’s what I hear.” Arnold looked down at his folded hands.
“Look, Arnold,” Truely said. “I can see your spirits are down, man. This is damn awkward trying to talk to you when you’re in a Plexiglas cage coated in Lord knows what kind of germs and bacteria and human drivel. I mean, I hate seeing you in that damn box. I know it’s tough. But listen to me, you’re tough too. You know why? Because you have to be. No choice. You can tolerate whatever you have to tolerate until we can get you released. You got to make the best of it, man. Read books. Keep a journal — that’s Courtney’s idea. Watch damn TV. Think your thoughts, dream your dreams. Make your plans. I don’t know. You can’t collapse under the pressure. You hear what I’m saying?”
“I talked to Gordo,” Arnold said.
“What?”
“Gordo. I talked to him.”
“When?”
“Twice — this week.”
“How the heck did you talk to Gordo?”
“I called Suleeta. She give the phone to Gordo.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I tell him I need his help.”
“What did he say?”
“I believe he gon help me.”
“He said that?”
“He say something like that.”
WHEN TRUELY’S TIME WAS UP the guard signaled him to leave. Truely put his hand up against the glass and Arnold placed his hand against it — sort of a subdued high five. Truely had seen people do that in movies and thought it was corny. Now he saw that it was pure human instinct. You needed to touch a person who was in bad trouble. And they needed to be touched too. Each visit to Arnold, Truely saw his subtle decline. His appearance, his voice, his energy, his spirits, his hope — all on the downslide.
WHEN TRUELY GOT BACK to the hotel he tried to call Lanie. He felt like talking to somebody about his visit to Arnold. He hoped she would want to listen. Maybe she would say something he needed to hear. But he only got her voice mail. “Hey, Lanie,” he said. “Happy holidays. Hope things are going well with you. We’re still down here in So Cal. No change. You take care and I’ll be in touch later.” He hung up the phone and wondered if she would call him back.
DURING THESE WEEKS Truely started making a list. It was mostly a doodle at first, but morphed itself into a list. The things he would do or have Arnold do when Arnold got released. It just began to creat
e itself — the list. He labeled it To Do When Arnold Gets Out.
Season tickets to Raiders?
Introduce Jaxon’s kids. Lanie?
Play golf?
Help situate Vonnie and Coletta — better place?
Driver’s license?
Truck in garage?
Travel someplace. Where?
Consider selling loft. Bigger place? Walls?
Part-time job at tChair?
Start savings account. Start investing.
Get a dog? Maybe.
Summer trip to Mississippi.
Introduce Mose, Fontaine, Tay-Ann.
Visit the cemetery in Hinds County.
At some point Courtney found his list sitting on his bedside table and in the margins she penciled in a little column of her own.
Get Arnold baptized.
Find a SF home church — start going!
Bible on tape? (Read New Testament first.)
Personalized Bible for Arnold — and Vonnie too?
GED. No excuses. (Seriously, True.)
Doctor — post-jail checkup?
Dentist?
Hire Terrance as full-time tutor?
City College? Start with one class. See what happens.
Take some photos — because we don’t have any.
ON SATURDAY while Courtney was at the jail with Coletta and Vonnie, Truely was working on his computer, reviewing some correspondence and revised renderings. He was pleasantly distracted when the phone rang. He answered it absentmindedly. “Truely Noonan here.”
“Truely? It’s Shauna.” Her voice was strained.
It occurred to him he misheard her or that somebody was playing a joke on him. “Shauna?”
“It’s me,” she said. “You heard right.”
“This is a surprise,” he said. “What’s up?”
“There are some things I need to tell you, Truely.”
“Go ahead then.” He was instantly tense.
“Well,” she said. “First of all, I know you think you broke Daddy’s jaw.”
“I was hoping.”
“You didn’t. Daddy has a dental partial that he always wears. You hit him so hard it snapped in two. As drunk as he was it’s amazing he didn’t choke on it. It could have been a serious injury, Truely. It sliced into his gum. That was all the blood. I just wanted you to know.”
“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Or maybe I’m not — since as far as I can tell Jerry needed the hell smacked out of him. So I’ll have to think about that. But thanks for the truth.”
“He thinks you should pay to have his partial fixed.”
Truely laughed. “I swear, Jerry’s a piece of work.”
“He wanted me to tell you.”
“And you did. You’re a good daughter, Shauna.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Truely.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Yes, there’s something else.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“Since the night Arnold shot Gordo —”
“You mean the night Gordo shot himself — in the hand,” Truely corrected. “Which is a hell of a lot better than shooting himself in the head — don’t you think? — which is what would have happened if Arnold hadn’t stopped him.”
“Since that night,” Shauna continued, “Gordo has been in detox. Just like the family had been saying, he’d developed a serious drug dependency. Not just the stuff they were overprescribing for him — but street stuff too. They’ve got lots of vets in here struggling with street drugs. It’s no wonder, really. Anyway, he’s off nearly everything now except his antibiotics and his pain meds. He has to ask for meds now. The nurse has to administer anything he takes for pain. They do random drug tests too. They’ve assigned him a psychiatrist. He’s beginning to cooperate with her. So, you know, Gordo is a lot better now, True. He’s getting back to his old self.”
“Well, that’s good then. I’m glad to hear it. Seriously.”
“Which leads me to one last thing.”
“What is it?”
“Gordo asked me to call you.”
“Really?”
“He wants to see you.”
“Damn.”
“I know.”
“You mean it?”
“He wants you to come over to the VA tonight if you can.”
THAT AFTERNOON when Courtney got back to the hotel after a day at the jail with Coletta and Vonnie, Truely told her about Shauna’s phone call. She was worried. First she imagined that Gordo still had Arnold’s gun and might just shoot Truely on sight. Next she imagined that the Mackeys had planned a family ambush, that they would gang up on Truely, hold him against his will, make him sign a false confession or a blank check or something. She didn’t think he should go alone. She wanted him to call Mike Wineberg, but Truely refused. She volunteered to go with him herself, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So she made him promise that he would call her the minute he got there and again the minute he left so she would not just sit in front of the jabbering TV and worry herself sick.
Truely drove to the VA Hospital exactly as he had done dozens of times before. He circled the parking lot in search of a vacant spot — part of the well-rehearsed ritual. He had no idea who would be in room 515 waiting for him. Would Gordo be alone? Would Shauna be there? If she was, then Pablo would be there too, no doubt. What about Jerry? He found himself actually hoping that Suleeta was there. Suleeta was the one who had put Arnold through to Gordo and he appreciated that. He appreciated Suleeta.
Truely made his way into the VA rehab center and retraced the steps of his earlier visits. When he reached the fifth floor and walked by the waiting room he glanced inside. No Mackeys were there. He went the short distance to Gordo’s room, tapped on the door.
“Come on in,” Gordo called out as Truely pushed the door open.
Gordo was dressed in shorts and a Chargers T-shirt, sitting in a chair. Truely was startled to see Gordo upright. On instinct he glanced immediately at the stump where Gordo’s foot was missing. It was a hideous-looking wound even these months later, bandaged loosely in a gooey saturated gauze. Gordo was wearing a baggy pair of athletic shorts so Truely couldn’t see the other stump where he had lost his leg midthigh.
The last time he had seen Gordo — the night he was planning to kill himself — Gordo had been wearing a hospital gown, lying awkwardly in a tangle of bedsheets, propped low against a messy stack of wrinkled, stained pillows. He had been pale and hostile and so angry it was chilling.
“Whoa, man,” Truely said. “Look at you.”
“Six-million-dollar man. You ever used to watch that show?”
“Sure,” Truely said.
“Soon as I get these stumps coarsened — you know, get the scar tissue built up — then they say I’ll get some prostheses made. Not those old-time fake legs, you know. Steel appendages. They’re saying in time I’ll be able to walk — maybe even run. That’s a long way off, of course. But what the hell? It’s not like I got a busy schedule or anything. Nothing for anybody to do around here but concentrate on getting yourself back together.”
“Suleeta must be happy,” Truely said. “She ever show you that photo of President Bush running alongside a soldier from Iraq? He had metal attachments like the ones you’re talking about — and he was running at a good clip too.”
“Yeah, Mama showed me that picture. What? A thousand times.”
“Speaking of Suleeta, where is she, man? I never came up here when she wasn’t across the hall in the waiting room. Where are all the Mackeys tonight?”
“Home,” he said. “They were about to smother me up here. Mama always watching me with those sad eyes of hers. And Daddy — he’s just trying to drink his way through the pain — his pain. Shelly and Becca, they act half scared of me now. Shauna, she’s mad all the time. She didn’t used to be like that. It was a lot, you know? Too much. But you get in this detox program and your family has to agree to stay away while you go through t
he worst of it. They have to sign a paper. No exceptions. Now they don’t come up here unless they call first. My psychiatrist asks me if I want to see them — I can say yes or no. Mostly I say no.”
“Got it,” Truely said.
“You want to see something?” Gordo asked.
“Sure,” Truely said. “I guess so.”
“See that chair over by the door? You think you can get it and open it up and roll it over here?”
“Sure.” Truely walked over to the doorway and got the collapsed wheelchair and snapped it open.
“Push down on that back part,” Gordo instructed. “That locks it open.”
Truely did as he said and rolled the chair over to where Gordo sat.
“Okay, man.” Gordo was animated in a way Truely hadn’t expected. “You got to step over here in front of me and put your arms around me like you’re about to kiss me on the mouth, right? Put your arms under my arms, yeah, like that. Now lift, man. Lift. I’m heavy. But not as heavy as I used to be. Just try to lift me up, man. Yeah, yeah. Like that. Then just sort of move me over this way, a little more, a little more, and help me down into that chair. Okay, okay,” he said. “Good.”
Truely was sweating by the time he had lifted Gordo, who was wrong — he was not heavy at all. Truely was able to lift him and move him over to the chair without much physical strain — but with great nervous tension. Gordo wrapped his arms around Truely’s neck and held tight. Truely felt Gordo’s muscles flex. He could smell the anxiety on Gordo’s pungent skin — and his own.
“Probably don’t seem like much. A man sitting in a chair,” Gordo said. “But it’s a big damn deal. Watch this.”
Truely stepped back and Gordo propelled the chair forward, slowly at first, then faster, turning in a sharp circle and stopping suddenly before he crashed into the side of the bed. “Hold that door open and I’ll take it up the hall a time or two.”
Truely obliged, held the door ajar and watched Gordo navigate out into the hall. He was slightly clumsy, but determined. He made a sharp right and barreled up the deserted hall, turning just before he hit the distant closed doors. Then he made his way back, fast, his arm muscles bulging as he deftly turned the chair’s wheels. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He looked almost happy. “Pretty damn good, huh?” He eased the chair back to room 515.
Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi Page 37
