A Tree Born Crooked (7 page)

“That girl at the bar. Or, out back of the bar, I guess.”

“Who, Marlena? You don’t remember her? Shit!”

A fox darted out across the road and Rabbit did his best to swerve with one hand. For an instant, James caught the glow of the fox’s amber eyes in the headlight before it vanished into the trees.

“Why don’t you put the phone away for a sec? You can’t get service out here no how.”

“Nah, I got it.”

Rabbit hit the send button and dropped the phone into his lap. He put both hands back on the steering wheel.

“What was we talking ‘bout?”

“Marlena.”

“Oh, yeah. You mean to tell me you don’t know her? You dated her cousin back in high school. Maybe second cousin. I can’t never figure all that family tree stuff out.”

“I did?”

“Sure. That crazy girl, Addie. She up and married that dude Willy Underhill after you left, remember? Had a couple a his kids, but he took ‘em with him when he left her. Now she’s on to anything with a dick that’ll look her way.”

James gritted his teeth and went to crank the window down. The handle was broken.

“I know who Adelyn is, dumbass.”

“You probably saw her at The Diamond tonight. She’s usually in there fishing for guys on Sunday nights. Or any night, really. Me and Delmore, we got some dealings going on with the owner, Waylon Bell, so I’m ‘round there a lot and, man, that Addie is a piece a work. But I guess you know that.”

“That was a long time ago. And we were talking ‘bout her cousin.”

Rabbit picked up his phone again and checked the screen.

“Oh, yeah. So Marlena is Waylon’s daughter. I guess maybe you wouldn’t a known her. I think she woulda been in your grade, but she didn’t go to our high school. She only came ‘round during the summers or something like that. Lived up near Lake City with her mama, I think. She just moved back here a couple a years ago, when Waylon’s wife took all that money from him and high-tailed it off to Mexico or wherever. Probably a good thing she come back, too. No offense to Waylon, but I don’t think that bar woulda made it much longer if Marlena never showed up.”

Rabbit gave James a solemn look. He was obviously proud of himself for having such inside information. They turned off onto a narrow road and soon pulled into a dirt yard littered with trash, broken lawn furniture, and pieces of a rusted bench press. A child’s plastic play kitchen lay on its side collecting rainwater and mosquito eggs. Rabbit parked the Caprice in front of a singlewide propped up on cinderblocks with black, plastic garbage bags taped up in the place of two windows. There didn’t appear to be anyone at home.

“Well, shit.”

“What? I thought you were just dropping something off.”

Rabbit drummed his fingers on the gearshift. He chewed on his lip and kept staring at the dark trailer. Finally, he picked up his cell phone. The glow from the screen showed a line of worry across his forehead.

“Yeah, but Delmore’s truck ain’t here. It’s something I gotta give him tonight.”

“You both live here, right? Can’t you just leave it?”

Rabbit wasn’t listening to him. He kept pressing the same button on his phone, looking back and forth between the screen and the empty trailer. He raised the phone up to his ear and James watched his brother’s face. Rabbit had always been nervous, anxious, and single-minded once he got something into his head, but this seemed different. Maybe it was that hint of desperation again. James hadn’t spent time alone with his brother in years. It could have been just the way he was now. Whatever the reason, it made James uneasy. He felt as if he was on the edge of opening up doors that he knew he didn’t want to see behind.
 

“Well, I guess we gotta go up there.”

Rabbit threw the phone onto the dash and angrily cranked the car.

“Go where?”

“I don’t know where Delmore is for sure, but he’s probably up at the club.”

Rabbit spun the car around, backing over something with one tire as he did, and put it into gear. They started back the way they had just come, though this time Rabbit seemed intent on going as fast as could over the roots and hard sand ridges that encroached onto the edges of the rough dirt road.
 

“The club? Rabbit, where the hell are we going?”

“Lucky’s. He’s probably up there getting some cash from one of the girls who owes him. They’re always owing him something. I wish he’d answer his phone, though, and not leave me wondering all the time.”

They bounced onto a paved road and turned right, in the direction of the highway.
 

“Lucky’s? The strip joint? That’s near out by the county line. That’s twenty miles from here.”

“Well, yeah, what’d you want me to do?”

“Pull over.”

Rabbit looked over at James, confused. He didn’t slow down.

“You serious?”

“I want you to pull over.”

The turn for the highway was only a mile away. Rabbit kept his foot on the gas and the speedometer crept upwards. He didn’t say anything, but gripped the steering wheel tighter and turned his eyes back to the road. James’ tone changed, but his voice stayed level.

“Rabbit. I want you to pull over right now, or I’m going to have to come across this seat and make you pull over, and that ain’t gonna be pretty, now is it?”

Rabbit still refused to look at James, like a child who believes that if he doesn’t look at something that scares him, it will go away. James lunged toward him.

“Alright, alright. Jesus, man.”

The car slowed and Rabbit eased it on to the shoulder of the road. James twisted in his seat to face his brother.
 

“Now, listen. I didn’t decide to stay, and then come have a drink with you, so you could drive me all over the county on whatever stupid errand you are trying to pull for Delmore.”

“I ain’t—”

“No, stop it. I don’t care. I don’t. I don’t want to hear ‘bout it. I thought maybe it might be nice to talk tonight. You know, talk ‘bout Daddy, maybe.”

Rabbit still wouldn’t look at him. James rubbed the side of his face, grazing the stubble with his palm.
 

“For Chrissakes, I come back here for a funeral and I wind up driving around the middle of nowhere with you.”

There was hurt in Rabbit’s eyes, but James ignored it. He ran his hands along his jeans, smoothing them out.
 

“Take me back to my truck.”

“Come on, James. I want to hang out, I really do. I just gotta do this one thing.”

“No, I’m done. Drive me back to my truck, or I’m gonna drive myself back. You understand?”

They glared at one another for a long moment before Rabbit jerked the gearshift and silently pulled the car back onto the road. When they got to the junction for the highway, Rabbit spoke up quietly.

“You leaving town right away?”

“I don’t know.”

“You got somewhere to go? Some place you gotta be? You know what you’re gonna do?”

James craned his neck to look out the windshield at the night sky. It was completely clouded over now, not a star in sight, just an empty black maw looming over them.
 

“I don’t know.”

Rabbit waited for a semi to pass and then turned left, taking the road back to Crystal Springs.

FOUR

Loretta Lynn was wailing from the jukebox about how she was a coal miner’s daughter and only three seats at the bar were taken when James walked into The Blue Diamond. He sat down at the far end of the bar and waited for Hollis to finish telling a story to an old man in a canvas fishing hat who looked only half interested.
 

“And so, I was only this far away from Alex Rodriguez and that actress lady he was with.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. You know, he’s a lot smaller in real life. Looks a lot more worn down than he do on TV. Bad skin, too. You think he wears makeup when he goes onto the field and that’s why he looks so pretty?”

“Screw you, Hollis.”

Hollis laughed and switched his bar towel from one shoulder to the other as he walked over to James. He slid a cardboard coaster over to him and leaned his forearms on the prickly edge of the plastic bar mat.
 

“You decide to stick around?”

James pulled his cell phone, cigarettes, and keys out of his pockets and laid them on the bar so he could sit more comfortably.
 

“Seems that way. Looks like you’re having fun.”

“Oh, Randy down there is a Yankees fan. One of them transplants from up north. He’s a good guy, though, which is why I try to rile him up every time he comes ‘round.”

Hollis looked over his shoulder just in time to see the old man give him the finger. Hollis kept laughing.
 

“So, what can I do for you, James?”

“Just a beer. Budweiser bottle. And sorry ‘bout running out on my tab last night. What do I owe you?”

“I’ll just add it to this one.”

Hollis twisted off the cap and set the beer on the coaster. James drank half the bottle before putting it down and felt better. It had been a long day.
 

“Tough one for a Monday, huh?”

“I’ll manage.”

Hollis smacked his towel down on the shiny lacquered wood and leaned across the bar to James.

“I ain’t want to say this yesterday, ‘cause I wasn’t sure what you were aiming to do—”

James took another swig.

“I still don’t, Hollis.”

“I know. But I just wanted to say that I think it’s a mighty good thing you showed up. Maybe help straighten things out some.”

James bristled.
 

“I’m not sure what you think needs to be straightened out.”

Hollis crossed his thick arms in front of his chest and took a deep breath before continuing.
 

“Now, I don’t mean no disrespect at all. Like I said the other night, Orville and I weren’t best friends or nothing, but he was a good man and he did his best to do right by every man he came across.”

“I know that. Just ‘cause I ain’t settled down here my whole life don’t mean I don’t know what kinda man my daddy was.”

James felt the spark of anger inside him ignite. The spark was always there, deep in his belly, or sometimes he could feel its slow heat burning somewhere in his chest, behind his lungs, between his rib cage and every breath. It would smolder for days, for weeks even, and then something would come along and give life to the flame. It could be anything: a challenge, an assumption, an old wound torn open, a failure flung back in his face. The ember would catch, the fury would blaze, and the spark would either burn itself out in an instant or grow into a wildfire he couldn’t control. James slowly sipped his beer as Hollis tried to clarify himself.
 

“Son, you’re missing the point of what I’m trying to say.”

“I guess I am.”

Hollis twisted open another beer and set it next to the one already in front of James. He didn’t look at it. He kept his eyes trained on Hollis, but he could feel the fire sputtering out already. James knew that Hollis didn’t mean any harm.

“Look, I don’t pretend to know you. I ain’t even seen you since your voice started to crack, but you seem a sight more level-headed than that halfwit brother of yours, no offense, and that two-bit slimeball cousin he’s always running ‘round with. Now, you want to fight me for saying so, then go on, but it’s the truth.”

James felt a twinge of shame when he realized that he actually didn’t want to fight Hollis. He didn’t care what he said about Rabbit. It was probably true. Hollis lowered his voice as a new customer walked up to the bar a few seats down. He nodded that he would be right over.

“I think Orville did his best to help set those two on the right track, especially after your uncle Cordie gave it up to the cancer, and Delmore didn’t have no one to tell him to pull his head outta his ass. But now that he’s dead, well, son, it’s your family name they’re dragging ‘round, not mine.”

“What about Mama? She ain’t keeping ‘em in line?”

Hollis dropped his voice to a near whisper.

“Son. I don’t think I gotta tell you whose side she’s gonna be on.”

Hollis stood up straight and left James with his head swimming with uncertainty. Nothing that Hollis had said to James came as a surprise. He had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to figure out Orville’s affairs, so as to help put them in order. Most everything now belonged to Birdie Mae, but James knew that Orville kept a safety deposit box she couldn’t get into. He had acquired it a few years back after Birdie went off on one of her video poker sprees and cleaned out their checking account. Orville had made James the beneficiary, knowing that James wasn’t likely to come back to Crystal Springs and break it open any time soon.
 

When the slick-haired clerk at the bank handed James the key to the box, he had sneered in a way that made James nervous to open it. Sure enough, when he twisted the key and yanked open the tiny metal door, the space was empty; the shoebox vault held only the echo of all that his father had tried to hold onto for himself. He threw the key into the clerk’s lap as he walked past the front desk, interrupting his game of Internet solitaire, but James didn’t bother to ask questions. He knew from the smug look on the clerk’s face that he wasn’t going to get answers from him.