8-Track (2 page)

Bitty opened the door and breathed in the aroma. “Eli.” 

Eli looked up. “Hey babe, I’m going out. I need some fresh air but I’ll be back soon,” he said smoothly.

Taking a milk crate from beneath the work bench Bitty sat down next to him and placed her arm around his back.

“I never ask you about past. It always seem hard for you to talk about. Now I ask you, tell me about this man, Bobby Hubble.”

Eli took a long drag off the fat joint. Like cooking oil in a vat of water, old memories rose to the surface. Mixed emotions filled Eli’s head. He recalled the day his deceased brother Matt introduced him to Hubble.

“The first time I met Hubble was at a bike rally in Laconia. I think it was the summer of fifty-one. He wasn’t a member of the Outlaws like us, but was into bikes. Knew a lot about’m, different makes, models, where to score parts, everything. Other than that, he was a bit of a loner. Matt told me Hubble was from California, somewhere in San Diego. He came out to Massachusetts back in forty-nine with his dad who had one foot in the grave with emphysema. Hubble was older, good looking and pretty tough. He was instantly likable and seemed OK.” Eli took another hit off the joint.

“It was kinda crazy back then, drugs, women, and hundreds of motorcycles everywhere. One night, we drove into the city, went down to Southie and stopped at a bar called the L-Street Tavern for a beer. Hubble got into a fight with some karate dude. He slammed Hubble’s face into a pinball machine, giving him the scar on his cheek. Hubble took the guy outside, beat him up so bad he nearly killed’m. He was a bit maniacal, Matt gave him the nick name Hubble the Rubble
.
” Eli took one last drag before putting it out on his tongue.

“When my father mentioned moving up here, Matt and I came with him. It wasn’t long after, maybe three months when Hubble followed us up begging for a job. My ol’ man got him in the union. Hubble was more Matt’s friend than mine. They hung out a lot, used to drive up every Friday night to Portland, go see the races. I know he and Matt were into some serious shit when they got into the accident. Hell, it’s been nearly eight years, I just want to put the past behind me and move on. Besides Matt was a bit crazy himself, I can’t completely blame Hubble for the accident. They were both drunk that night.” He sighed. “Forgive and forget is what they say.” Bitty leaned in to kiss his cheek, before he stood up and walked out the garage door.

Driving across town, Eli chewed over his conversation with Bitty.
They were both drunk that night, forgive and forget. 
Would it be that easy? He was responsible for killing my brother.
Eli stopped his Lincoln at the four-way crossroad out by the train tracks. He sat there for a moment and recalled a poem his father spoke of: “
Y
ou
can give someone another chance, or you can forgive, let go, and give yourself a better chance.” 
By the time he reached twenty-two Harrison Street the words seemed to take on a towering meaning.

Sig’s doe-eyed girlfriend Melanie greeted him at the front door.

“Eli, I didn’t know you were coming by, sugar.”

“Hello doll, how you been?”

“Super. You smell like weed, did you bring me some?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“No, sorry honey. Where’s your boy at?” Eli wiped his work boots on the doormat and stepped inside.

“He’s in the TV room, you want a beer?”

“No, thanks doll.”

Eli stepped into the TV room. Sig’s tanned six-two frame was sprawled out on a shabby brown leather recliner. He was wearing gray shorts and a black tank-top with the word EverLast printed in bold face across the chest. Sipping a bottle of Thomas Hardy’s Ale, he looked up at Eli, “Hey.”                      

“What are you watching, dude?” He took a seat on the checkered blue Denim couch, slouched back and crossed his legs. Eyeing Sig’s chair Eli wondered,
how does Melanie allow him to keep something so beat-up? As laid back as Bitty was, she still insisted all of their furniture look decent and not from the junkyard.

“
Night of the Living Dead. 
I love this movie.”  

“Yeah, I’ve seen this, fucking zombies,” Eli replied patting for his cigarettes.

“Yeah, fucking zombies. Where would you go, the attic or the cellar?”     

“The cellar.”

“No man, the attic! It’s gotta be the attic.” Sig snickered emphatically.

“Whatever dude. Plague, zombies, the government, either way you cut it, you’re fucked.” 

Sig took a quick sip of his beer, put the bottle down, shifted to face Eli and brought his oversized hands together. “So, you’re picking him up huh?”

Eli rolled his head back with the cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“Sounds like Melanie’s been rapping with Nessa?” he replied running the thumbwheel over his thigh. 

“Yeah, she filled me in.”

Eli took a drag before speaking. “I stopped by Nessa’s house yesterday, she told me. What can I say, she‘s gotta let that shit go. I told her, Hubble’s done his time, it won’t bring back Matt. Holding on to that anger won’t do her or Sam any good.”

“Wasn’t it ten to twelve, why only eight years?” 

“Who the fuck knows. Good behavior or so Hubble says. Hell, it’s been three years since I’ve even seen him, although he calls the house every six months or so. He asked me to pick him up.”

“What are you gonna do?” Sig asked flexing his calf like a big cat. 

“I’m gonna live by my own words, forgive and forget. I’m hoping Nessa and Sam will follow.”

Eli continued to turn the knob but was getting no reception from his car radio.
The most likely culprit
, he thought looking out the windshield at the prison tower diagonally across from him. His eyes trailed the sharp thorny barb wire running along the top of the building’s fence. A loud bell, which reminded him of high school, began to ring from behind the wall.
Eli got out and stood by the pitted chrome bumper on his Lincoln and watched the main gate roll open.

An older man with thick sideburns and long slicked-back salt and pepper hair emerged. As the man's long strides brought him closer, Eli realized it was Hubble. A large green, military duffel bag was flung over his right shoulder. Eli could see that Hubble had been taking full advantage of the weight room. He appeared muscular and very lean for a man of nearly sixty. Hubble’s face was tanned, and the long scar running down his cheek had grown darker with age. Ironically, it now looked more like a crucifix. The flicker in Hubble’s once charming brown eyes was gone, like a cold hand had reached in and snuffed out the flame. He stopped within three feet of Eli and dropped his bag on the ground.

“As I live and breathe, it’s been a long time Elijah. You look good,” Hubble said with a wide grin. Eli stepped in to hug him.

“Looks like you’ve been staying fit in there.”

“Ah, just did what I could in that corrupt toilet, you know, brother. Let’s get outta here, I’m fucking itch’n to move on.”

“Damn it feels good to be out. Would you mind if we stopped at the state store? I need to grab some chew, this is the last of what I got,” he said, tucking the tobacco between his lower lip and gum.

“Sure,” Eli replied lighting a cigarette.

“Cool man. How’s the family doing? Vanessa, her daughter Samantha?”

“Nessa and Sam are doing fine, saw them a few days ago.”   

“She must have told you I called. I wanted her to know so we can...ya know...both go forward.” Eli’s eyes remained fixed on the road while Hubble spoke.

“People are gonna form their own opinions about you, you gotta show’m you’ve changed.”

Hubble rolled down the passenger window to spit out some of the tobacco juice. “You mean reformed.”

“Call it whatever you want man. I rapped with Bud. He doesn’t want any bullshit around the hall. Says you’ve been paying your union dues, so you’re still an active member and able to work. As far as a ride goes, you can use my old pickup.”

“Thanks brother.”

The drive up I-93 north was clear. After crossing the state line, Eli got off the highway and turned into the state liquor store. Hubble extended his arm over the seat into his bag and removed his wallet. “You need anything Eli?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

 Hubble got out of the car casually. Strolling toward the store entrance he glanced back to see if Eli was watching. He wasn’t. Catching a nod from a young kid with acne-scarred cheeks sitting outside on a bench, Hubble ever so slightly nodded back. Standing up, the young white male pulled his green Celtics hoodie over his head and followed Hubble inside.

Bitty was in the kitchen cooking sticky rice for sushi when Eli entered through the front door. He could smell the hint of vinegar used in her traditional recipes, along with spicy ginger and soy sauce. His mouth watered thinking about the variety of rolls she was preparing.

“Hi babe, Hubble’s hanging out in the driveway and I need to rap with him before he leaves. I’ll be in a few minutes.”

Bitty nodded and forced a small smile.

Hubble was hovering over the Harley when Eli returned. “Damn, you still have this. She looks boss.”

“Yeah, just finished restoring her last year. She doesn’t get ridden all that much, but she still shines.”

“Whose Karmann Ghia?”

“Bitty’s. The key for my pickup is under the floor-mat. Use it as long as you need.”

“Thanks dude.” Hubble looked up to the sign hanging over the work bench.
When we do right, nobody remembers. When we do wrong, nobody forgets.
“Still living by the code huh, where’d you get that?”

“Nah man, Sig made that for me.” 

“Siggy huh. How’s that beast doing? Still bodybuilding?”

“No, he’s done with that crap. He’s doing fine.”

“Vanessa says you’re restoring your dad’s house?”

“Yeah.” Eli knelt down and wiped dust off the bike’s exhaust with his index finger.

“Did ya gut it?” Hubble asked running his hand over the hood of the apple red Karmann Ghia.

“Yup, took most of it down to the studs. I got a kid from Rhode Island helping me.”

Hubble grinned, his scar blending in with the deep-brown creases traveling across his face. “Oh, are you doing the boathouse, too?” 

“Yeah, eventually,” Eli replied handing Hubble a key. "That's the key for the garage, it's the only one, so don't lose it.”

“Cool man. Thanks for picking me up, I better be getting on. Gotta start living in the present. I’ll get ya truck back fast enough.”

“No worries, no one’s using it anyway. Why don’t you come ovah on Saturday? I’ll call up a few of the guys. Be like old times,” Eli said walking him out.

“That’d be fucking great,” Hubble replied getting in the truck. Eli waved as the balding white-wall tires kicked up dirt. 

Once inside he flipped on the light switch. Nearly all of the fluorescent overhead lamps were out, giving the interior a somber feeling. Hubble took a whiff, the air smelled like a combination of fertilizer and spray paint. An old yellow Kaelble snow plow was parked in front of the roll-up door, rusted to the point it looked like a small breeze would cause it to crumble. Areas of the floor were strewn with kitty litter, which was used to suck up oil. It stuck to the soles of Hubble’s boots. The bedroom door was at the far end of the garage. It was wrapped in a reflective sheet of steel,
obviously put on there in case of a fire.
Hubble stepped inside and locked the door behind him. 

The room was fairly clean and not much bigger than Hubble’s former six by eight cell. Knotty Pine covered the walls and cheap linoleum which was lifting in one corner of the uneven floor. Opposite the door was a three foot square inch window which faced the woods, below it, a folding roll away cot with a blue button tufted mattress. Separating the rusted shower head and toilet was a single white bed sheet. About the only thing appealing was a working circular neon clock hanging on the wall. Hubble read its bright blue and red face,
Delicious and Refreshing Drink Coca Cola. 

 Flopping down on the cot Hubble ripped open his duffel bag. Wasting no time he pulled out a miniature black leather case and unzipped the side of it. He took out a syringe, a glass, a butane lighter and a badly burned silver spoon. From his pocket he produced a white tootsie roll size baggie which he’d scored from the kid at the state store. After removing the twist-tie he carefully drew out a teaspoonful of the white powder and propped the spoon across the top of a glass. Like a chemist, he placed the flame from the lighter under the spoon. The powder began to liquefy into a milky white broth and bubble. With his other hand Hubble reached for the syringe and drew in the liquid off the spoon. Putting the syringe down he eagerly took off his boot and sock. Half the thrill for him was watching the cold metal needle penetrate his vein. He fed the thin, sharp point into it and pulled the plunger back. A deep red mixed with the milky white liquid, he winced while pushing down on the plunger. The rush was instantaneous. Hubble’s eyes fixed on the white sheet, it began to swirl and float like a ghost.
It
’
s just a matter of time. After eight fucking years of waiting, I
’
m closer than ever to it.