Roadside Bodhisattva

by Di Filippo, Paul

Sid’s laughter rocked the trailer. “Jesus, I’m a windy old bastard, huh? Well, my only excuse is that I don’t get to spout off like this all that often. And besides, you’re a good listener, Kid. Go take your leak. I’ll see you at the diner.”

  As I left, Sid was skinning into his pants and shirt, and still chuckling to himself.

  Outside, the air was a little chilly. Yesterday’s heat seemed like a distant memory. I was glad I hadn’t been sleeping under some tree last night. As I crossed the distance to the motel office, a man and a woman came out of one of the cabins, all sneaky-like. They crept into their separate cars and drove away. I wondered if they were each married to someone else, and exactly what they had done with each other in their hideaway last night. More stupid thoughts I had to force out of my head.

  I knocked at the back door of the office, and when I didn’t get any answer I went inside. The rooms where Ann and Sue lived were empty. A clock told me it was just six am. I used the toilet. On the sink were two new toothbrushes, resting atop a sheet of paper. The paper had my name and Sid’s written on it. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, and it felt pretty skeavy. So I brushed my teeth and put the wet brush in a slot in the cup-holder on the wall. I looked in the mirror, and my hair was a mess. I ran some water into my hand, and slicked my hair flat. I dabbed some on my mustache, wishing that there was more hair there to dab. Then I went to the diner.

  Even though Ann was busy hustling orders to a handful of occupied tables, she had time to smile at me. “Sit at the counter, Kid, and Sonny’ll serve you something.”

  I dropped down onto a stool. Sonny the chef had on the same outfit as yesterday, except that it was clean. White short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants, both of which hung on him like he was a scarecrow. I wondered if his sister washed the same shirt and pants every night, or if he just had a closetful of the same clothes.

  Without looking back at me, Sonny said, “Wha—what’ll it be, Kid?“

  I thought about the one meal my mother liked to cook. “Can I get some blueberry waffles?”

  “Guh—got no waffle iron. How about buh—blueberry pancakes?”

  “Sure.” I felt a little disappointed, but then mentally kicked myself for feeling that way. Why had I been trying to recreate the best part of home? I was on the road now, and everything was different. Wasn’t that just the way I had hoped it would be?

  Just as Sonny was sliding a tall stack of blue-streaked pankcakes topped with a melting hunk of butter in front of me, Sid waltzed in. His hair was wet, curling onto his collar, and I guessed he must’ve taken a shower next door. He made this elaborate goofy bow to Ann, and she smiled at him in what seemed a sincere and appreciative way. Whatever had gone down between them last night must not have caused any hard feelings.

  Sid swung a leg up and around like a cowboy getting on his horse to claim the stool next to me. “Do my eyes deceive me, or has this pipsqueak gotten my order by mistake?”

  “Pipsqueak? Did you see me eat yesterday? I’ll match you pancake for pancake.”

  “Oh-ho, a challenge! You heard the Kid, Sonny. Start those flapjacks flying my way.”

  Even though my mouth was watering, I held off eating until Sid got his stack. Then we both chowed down. Sonny had drawn two coffees for us, and I used mine to wash down big mouthfuls of pancakes.

  No sooner had we swabbed up the last bit of syrup with the last piece than Sonny had more pancakes ready for us. Sid and I started in our second batch, with coffee refills to help. I wasn’t even really hungry anymore. My stomach felt like a balloon expanding in the waistband of my jeans. But I’d be damned if I was gonna let Sid beat me.

  I didn’t look up from my plate, but I got the sense that everyone in the diner was watching us. That just added to the pressure. I kept shoveling the pancakes down, watching Sid out of the corner of my eye. I was hoping he’d be slacking off, but he wasn’t. In fact, when he caught my eye he went “Mmmmm!” like Homer Simpson and started eating faster.

  At the end of the second round, Sonny didn’t automatically serve us more. He looked at us with his rabbitty eyes and said, “Wuh—well?”

  “Keep ’em coming!” said Sid. “Unless you’re full, Kid …?”

  “No way!” I’d eat until I puked, but I wouldn’t give up.

  At that point Ann came over. “Okay, you two, that’s enough. When I said you’d get free meals, I didn’t plan on you eating up the whole day’s profits just to prove who’s the biggest glutton. Or the biggest five-year-old. This contest is officially over. I declare a tie.”

  Ann’s words made me feel relieved. And I got the sense that Sid was also glad for an easy out. His face was kinda flushed, which just made his old zit scars stand out the more.

  “Fair enough, boss. Kid, you’ve got the makings of a contender. How about giving me a shake?”

  I shook Sid’s hand. This was getting to be a regular ritual. Ann went behind the counter to get two orange juices for a customer. That’s when I had a thought.

  “Ann, where’s Sue? She’s not cleaning cabins this early, is she?”

  Ann looked worried, and her voice softened into nervousness. “She didn’t come home last night.”

  Sid jumped in, like he was Sue’s father or something. “This a regular thing, Ann? Should we be worried? You want me to hitch into town and look for her?”

  “No, no, that’s not necessary. She’s stayed away overnight a few times before. But she always comes back in time for work. I don’t think she’s getting into any trouble. Sue is more responsible and careful than her parents give her credit for. I just wish I knew who she was hanging around with. There’s a bad crowd in Lumberton, and I’d be happier knowing she was steering clear of them.”

  “Want me to talk to her when she gets back? Try to learn some names?”

  “That won’t do any good, Sid. I’ve tried. She’ll clam right up.”

  Nobody said anything for half a minute, and I realized that both Ann and Sid were waiting for me to speak. I was already a little anxious for some reason, picturing Sue hanging with a bunch of dangerous jerks. But now I got a little mad.

  “What? You think Sue’ll talk to me, and then I can narc to you? Forget it! I don’t want her to get hurt by anyone, but whatever she does is her business. I’ve only known Sue one lousy day, but I can tell already that she’s got her act together. Probably more’n you two! That’s the whole problem with you geezers. You don’t think people our age have any sense. You don’t trust us to make good decisions, or to know right from wrong. We can run our own lives without any help from you, thank you very much.”

  Sid held up his hands like he was protecting himself against some punches. “Whoa, Kid, nobody’s asking you to do anything, least of all something against your principles. I know you’ll follow your conscience. But sometimes if people need help they don’t always know how to ask for it. So just stay alert for any signs that Sue might be in over her head.”

  Sid’s words struck me as decent advice, not too preachy, so I calmed down. “Okay, that’s just common sense. Everyone knows enough to do that.”

  Ann said, “Huh, you’d be surprised, Kid.” She moved off to deliver the juices to the fidgety customers. When she returned, Sid asked, “What’s on the agenda for today, bosslady?”

  “Well, the Kid has kitchen duty from seven till ten, and from noon to three. But I thought he could help you outside of those hours with some painting. You might’ve noticed that every building in sight is peeling pretty bad. I bought the paint when my old handyman still worked here, but he never got a chance to start the job.”

  Sid scratched one whiskery cheek. “Won’t be touching any actual paint for some time. Plenty of scraping first. Kid, you ever done any such work before?”

  “No. But how tricky can it be?”

  “Kid, never underestimate the skills involved in any job, no matter how easy it looks. Once I got hired to shuck clams, and it took me a month before I could manage to open more clams in an hour t
han I had cuts on my hands. You can learn something new and useful from any job.”

  “Okay, okay, honorable Supreme Master of the paintbrush, I get your point. Now I’d better start washing dishes before you come back there to teach me how to scrub lipstick off a coffee cup.”

  I got off the stool and went to work.

  Now the clock above my sink said it was nearly ten. I looked out front to see if any tables needed bussing. They were all clean.

  Yasmine rested her slim butt on the edge of a stool, long legs braced out in front of her.

  “Sue come back?” I asked

  She stopped inspecting her painted fingernails for chips long enough to flash me a smarmy grin. “Aw, did you miss your little friend? Did you two have a playdate planned?”

  I tried to control my anger. “Listen, Yasmine—”

  Ann popped up from below the level of the counter, a package of napkins in her hand. “Yasmine, that’s quite enough. Yes, Kid, Sue’s back. She’s fine.”

  I took ofF my apron. “Mind if I stop and say hello to her before I go help Sid?”

  “Not at all.”

  I found Sue coming out of one of the cabins, juggling an armful of dirty sheets and a pail with cleaning stuff in it. She wore a different shirt today, a long-sleeved one with the phat farm logo on it, but with the same farmer pants and Docs. I noticed that for a heavy girl, she moved real easily.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, Kid. You look like a good excuse for a cigarette break. Just let me dump this stuff.”

  Sue disappeared, then rejoined me at the nearest cabin. Like yesterday, we sat on the stoop. She lit up a Camel, inhaled deeply, the cut loose with a big cloud of smoke.

  “Ah, that’s sweet. So, how’s the job going? Everybody treating you okay?”

  “Well, washing dishes isn’t my idea of a stimulating career. But it’s okay. And your aunt Ann is pretty neat. She’s fair, and it seems like she really cares about people.” didn’t say anything about how Ann had been worried about Sue, or how Ann and Sid had tried to get me to weasel information out of Sue.

  “Oh, yeah, Ann’s a regular bleeding heart. Takes in strays like me and you and your hobo buddy like we were kittens someone planned to drown. And you can see where all her goo-goo ways get her. Hanging on by her bloody fingertips to a loser lifestyle.”

  “You think things’re really that crummy here?”

  Sue swung an arm around to indicate the whole Deer Park setup. The cigarette in her hand trailed an arc of smoke, and its red tip flared. “Jesus, Kid, just look at this place. A greasy spoon, a broke-down lube joint, and a row of shacks, all by the side of a road to nowhere. Oh, and don’t forget your luxury accomodations. They add that final trailer-park touch. It’s a sure bet nobody’s getting rich here. None of us’d stay if we had even half a chance to leave for something even a little bit better.”

  “I don’t know. Even if this place isn’t a big moneymaker, it still seems kinda exotic to me.”

  Sue took another drag. “Then you must be a natural-born romantic. Or maybe you just haven’t been here long enough.”

  “I didn’t get the feeling yesterday that you were so down on this place.”

  “Today’s a different day.” Sue’s echo of what Sid had said last night made me curious if they had talked, but I couldn’t see when they would’ve, so I forgot about it. Sue threw her cigarette down and ground it out. “How’s Yasmine treating you?”

  “She’s a pain in the butt. I try to ignore her. I figure her problems with her mother must be making her mean.”

  Sue looked slyly at me. “Know what kind of actress her mother was, out in her wonderful California? A third-rate porn star.”

  A million tiny hot needles prickled my skin. My eyes automatically dropped to Sue’s impressive chest, but I forced them up to look her in the face. I wondered if every conversation with Sue was going to lead to sex. “No way.”

  “I’m not shitting you. Yasmine’s mom was real active in the hardcore scene back in the late ‘eighties, when Yasmine was about ten years old. Know what her screen name was? Pookie Arizona!” Sue barked a sharp laugh. “But she burned out and came back here, back to where she grew up. She took her minor daughter away from all her California friends with her, of course, and Yasmine’s never forgiven her for that. Then, just when Yasmine got old enough to leave her mother and go back to the land of her dreams, her mom got sick with aids. Yasmine had to stay with her to take care of her. There was no one else. That was almost ten years ago now.”

  “Jesus.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Yeah, that about sums it up. But Yasmine’s still a bitch in my book. And who knows if the move back here wasn’t ultimately the best thing for her? Yasmine’d probably’ve ended up screwing on videotape too. At least this way she kept her health and looks. What you can see of ’em through all that makeup. But anyhow, if I were a guy planning to pork Yasmine, I’d still make sure I wore two condoms.” Sue stood up. “Well, enough dishing the dirt. We’ve both got work to do.”

  “Sue, you have an iPod? I thought maybe you’d like to swap some files later. With me, that is.”

  “Why not? If nothing else comes up.”

  I watched her walk away. Then I went to find Sid.

  I spotted a paint-splattered dropcloth laid out on the ground near one of the cabins, and heard noises of metal dragging on wood. I turned a corner and there was Sid. He was standing on a small ladder, using a scraper on the cabin’s wooden gutters. He was working so energetically that flakes of paint sprayed through the air like snow.

  “Kid A! You’re now officially vice-president of Hartshorn Painting. Grab a scraper, and start attacking any goddamn peeling patch you see.”

  I picked up one of the tools. “Gee, Master, which end do I hold?”

  Sid laughed loud and long.

  I got to work a few feet away from Sid. I didn’t want my hair full of his scraping crud. Sid kept up a line of chatter. He seemed to have a endless supply of stories and opinions. Lots of the stories featured a moral of some sort, I noticed. Oh, he didn’t come right out with the lesson in so many words. He was too subtle for that. But I could see the messages poking through, like elbows through a ripped flannel shirt. After all, I had grown up with all kinds of parables and sermons, teachings of every kind, from tricky ones to straightforward ones, ones that snuck up on you days after you first heard them and ones that hit you over the head immediately. If Sid thought he was gonna slip something past me, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

  As the sun got higher, the day got warmer. Now it was the morning chill that seemed like the faroff dream. We moved around the cabin, leaving its walls a patchwork of bare spots and untouched ones where the old paint clung better. If possible, the work was even more boring than washing dishes.

  “Are we gonna scrape every single cabin before we can paint even one of them?”

  “You bet. No point in setting up all your brushes and turp and shit just to pack it away and get your scrapers out again the next day.”

  “Ever heard of variety being the spice of life?”

  “Ever heard of Henry Ford and the invention of the goddamn assembly line?”

  “Forget I even asked.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Noon rolled around at last, and I got ready to head back to the diner. That was when the cop car arrived.

  The cops here drove navy-blue cruisers with gold seals on the doors. This one pulled into the lot near the office, and kept on coming, until it came to a stop right next to us, half on the grass.

  Sid got down off the ladder. He wore that same dopey expression he had put on for Angie yesterday at the pumps. He moved slow and easy toward the car, hands hanging loose at his sides, and I followed.

  The door opened, and the cop got out.

  I guessed right away this was Al Vakharia, the guy Ann had warned us against yesterday. When he got closer, seeing his last name stitched onto his shirt just confirmed my gue
ss.

  Vakharia wasn’t really fat, just a little overweight, but he must’ve put on that weight since his uniform was new, because it was really too tight for him now. Or maybe he was one of those guys who couldn’t admit to themselves they had gone up a size. Or maybe he thought he looked like some kinda stud in tight pants. But the way his stomach was cinched in by his belt, puffing out above and below, just made him look like a conceited jerk. His face was kinda pasty, with a narrow mouth and sharp nose. I couldn’t tell anything about his eyes because of his sunglasses.

  When Vakharia spoke, his voice was pleasant enough, I guess, in an official way, but there was still this undertone of “don’t-fuck-with-me” in it.

  “Howdy, gents. I heard tell we had some new residents in the county. Would you be them, by any chance?”

  Sid stuck out his hand, trying his trick of getting Vakharia to shake. But the cop wasn’t Angie, and he didn’t make any move to accept Sid’s hand. After static and voices had crackled from the cruiser for what seemed like a long, long interval, Sid dropped his hand and spoke.

  “Well, officer, you heard right. Me and my buddy here have signed on for a hitch at Rancho Danielson. Sid Hartshorn and Kid A, at your service.”

  The cop ignored me for the time being. “Got any ID, Hartshorn?”

  “Sure thing.” Sid dug a license out of his back pocket and handed it over.

  Vakharia took it, strode to his car and radioed it in. He came back shortly and said, “Okay, you’re clean. Now, you.”

  I gulped, and my throat felt sore. I was scared, but at the same time I was a little angry. “I—I don’t have a license. I don’t drive.”

  “What’s your name then?”

  Should I tell this cop my real name, and risk him finding out that maybe my parents had a runaway notice out on me? I didn’t want my road trip to end so soon. I had hardly begun to experience anything at all. I swore in my head at myself and Sid. Why had I ever agreed to stay nailed down in one place, especially a place that featured such a hard-ass cop?

  I didn’t say anything, and I could see Vakharia starting to scowl. That was when Sid jumped in.