Drive (19 page)

Just a little farther, Jens. There's one more thing you have to do.

Into the wind again, staggering forward.

I felt the music before I heard it, through the boards of the buildings that held me up. When I reached the window with the blue neon, it was throbbing with kick-ass guitar, vibrating with drums. I leaned on the glass, looking inside.

It didn't take many people to make the little bar look full; the band itself seemed to take up half the room. Bourbon Ray was out front, huge and black and silver. He was playing the steel guitar. There was a guy on harp beside him and the drummer in the back. Red and blue lights made them all seem magical.

I didn't see Daniel until he moved. He was tucked in tight on that little stage, almost in the middle of the circle of musicians. He was playing an electric bass. I'd never seen him play one but I didn't doubt he was doing it, smoking the strings and making it run. Over the last few days I'd come to believe my brother could play anything.

His hat was pulled down so low you couldn't see his eyes. He leaned back and yet into the strings, the guitar an extension of his body. He was flying. And the whole room was loving him.

It took a lot to push in the door. The warm, smoke-filled room seemed to burn my skin. Walking through the music was like swimming, it was so thick and loud, but I went straight to the bar, amazingly straight, and handed over my truck keys to the girl behind the counter.

I nodded at Daniel. “These are for my brother,” I said carefully. “Tell him I said to eat his cereal.”

She looked at me curiously. “I'm sorry,” I told her. I meant that she had to look after the keys.

She must have seen something in my face because she touched my hand. I felt the burning rush again – up my throat and behind my eyes. I pulled away and walked out. I hoped Daniel hadn't seen me.

I was almost grateful for the wind, something to lean into, to fight against. The sidewalk was less slippery here or maybe I was walking better. I didn't have to hang onto the wall so I jammed my hands into my jacket pockets. I was in a hurry. The only alcohol I had left was in my bloodstream. It wouldn't last forever.

There were two more streets, then the turnoff for the highway. Number 10, to Thompson.

People would say I'd done a terrible thing, leaving Daniel. But I knew his friends would look after him tonight and I'd told him where to
find the money. Tomorrow he'd call Mom and Dad, if he hadn't already. After that he'd have Mogen Kruse and Home Grown and God knew what else. Daniel would be okay. He had the kind of problems that could be fixed.

It had started to snow again, not the big white flakes we'd seen on the way in, but small ice crystals that blasted me like sand. It should have stung but it didn't. I wasn't even cold anymore. I could feel the wind buffeting my body in waves but mostly I was just tired. Really tired.

I had reached the highway. I had to get close to the sign to read it. At first I thought it was the snow, but then I realized everything was blurry. Okay. All I had to see was the road in front of me.

My body was starting to feel light and warm now, as if I was floating. I didn't have to worry about cars. It was midnight Monday in the middle of a snowstorm. No one was out. I didn't have to worry about Mom. She'd be upset but she had Daniel. And Dad. I was sorry about the garage. Oh, God, I was sorry. But I was giving him this, the way to explain it.
He was drunk, he was confused, he just got lost
…

I seemed to fall for a long time, minutes from the stumble to the slow pitch forward, the highway coming up to me, gray and white.

There was no pain when I hit, no shock of contact. It was like watching someone else, from the inside. And I was so comfortable, relieved to finally stop. Jack Lahanni had been wrong. I did have the sense to lie down.

My eyes were open. I was just looking at the highway, watching the snow swirl across it, when I saw the light. I felt the vibration like buzzing. I could even hear it. I was so calm and tired that nothing could scare me.

Like watching a movie I saw the truck swerve around me, then swing over suddenly to compensate, then begin to skid. It spun around 360 degrees before it plunged nose-first off the asphalt.

The back tires were still spinning when the realization hit me. That was my truck. My truck was in the ditch. Alarm shot through my numb body and I pushed up on my arms. I knew who had the keys.

I staggered to my feet and stumbled over, my wooden legs gathering strength with every step. I charged down into the ditch into knee-deep snow and yanked open the driver's door. Daniel threw up his arms.

“Don't hit me! I'm sorry!”

“For God's sake, are you hurt?”

“No, I swear! Jens, I'm sorry.”

It was all I could do to get him to turn off the
engine and climb out of the cab. I tugged him over to the sheltered side of the truck, out of the wind, and for a minute we just leaned there, catching our breath. I couldn't believe he'd come after me.

“Daniel…why would you take the truck?”

“You left me the keys. I saw you in the bar. As soon as the set was over, I ran out after you but I couldn't catch up.”

”
Scheisskopf
! You could've been killed!”

He was looking at me through narrowed eyes. “Why were you lying on the highway? You…scared me.”

For a brief second I imagined it through my own eyes, that it was me driving, seeing him on the side of the road. I would have gone into the ditch, too.

“I fell,” I said.

“And you just lay there?!”

It was all gone. The adrenaline and the alcohol and the panic – everything that was holding me up. I slumped against the truck, clinging to it. I wanted to go to sleep.

“Jens, what's the matter?”

“I don't feel so good,” I muttered. “You have to walk back, get a tow truck.”

“No, you're sick. I can't leave you here.”

“Just –”

But he was gone, around the back. In a daze,
I slid down the side of the truck to my knees. I felt the tremor as he opened the hatch, and other movements as he rattled around inside.

Then he was back. I could see his runners in front of me, blue and black Nikes in the snow.

“Jens, get up.” I could hear the alarm in his voice. “I cleared out a space. We'll sleep in the truck.”

I shook my head numbly.

“It's not as cold out of the wind. And we'll share heat.”

I didn't answer. He grabbed my arm. “Get up! I mean it!”

He couldn't lift me, couldn't even get me to my feet, but he was trying. Even now, after everything. The heat rushed to my face, scalded my eyes. I had nothing to give him anymore. I'd tried and tried but there was nothing I could do to make it up.

“Damn it, Jens,” he muttered, struggling with me. “What's the matter with you?!”

“I treated you like shit.” The words tumbled out, thick and raw. “You trusted me and I just wanted you to hurt, to pay because I was so screwed up and you weren't. And it wasn't your fault. You didn't deserve any of it. I'd take it back if I could – every rotten day, I swear.” I touched my cold fingers to my burning forehead. “It's okay to hate me. I hate me, too. But
I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry.”

I couldn't get up, couldn't even raise my head. All my life I'd been bigger than him.

His runners were still. He'd stopped pulling on me. For an awful second there was nothing, only the sound of wind howling around the truck. At last he gripped the shoulder of my jacket, held it so tight I could feel his knuckles digging into me.

“It's okay, Jens.”

Three words, but the relief flooded through me, almost swamped me in a wave. His Nikes were swimming in front of me.

“Okay,” I whispered back. And I used his arm to pull myself up.

I woke up warm. Daniel had wriggled over in his sleep, and now his back was against my shoulder. With our clothes and jackets and the sleeping bags and each other, we'd made it through the night. My face felt sunburned; I knew that was frostbite, but when I checked my fingers and toes I could move them easily. I'd gotten into the truck in time.

And that's when it sank in what I'd almost done. I was suddenly weak and shaken. Yeah, I'd been drunk and sick of myself, but I'd set out knowing I couldn't walk to Thompson. I'd set out thinking only of myself, where I hurt.

You've got a problem, Jens, I told myself. And I'd almost given it to my whole family, the people I loved most. I'd done some stupid and selfish things, but none came close to that. And
there was no quick fix, nothing I could win or earn that would make me feel better the way I needed it – right now. All I could do was live it out day by day

I could feel Daniel breathe, a faint vibration against my shoulder. Last night I'd told him he was going to be famous. He'd listened intently as I gave him the news about Home Grown. He had me repeat the phone call word for word, but he wasn't as excited as I thought he'd be.

I'd told him a lot – that I didn't have a job anymore, or this truck or even a place to live. It was hard. I'd spent seven months building that cardboard man. I'd almost believed in him, too.

All Daniel said was, “Come home. Dad won't be mad.”

“It's not about Dad.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was true. Everything I'd done, everything I'd wanted, had been to make me feel better.

“I need you to come home,” Daniel said quietly. “I can't take it anymore. They're on me all the time and…”

“You're their kid. They love you.”

“But they're just parents.”

And I was his brother. It wasn't like being a friend. We could hurt each other harder, or help each other more. Three words from him had made me feel almost new, as if I could start again.

The windows of the box were tinted. I knew it was morning outside but I couldn't move yet.

I would be nineteen in seven days. My mother was hardly a year older than that when she'd had me. She'd been a kid. For a minute I just held that revelation, felt it fill up my chest. The things I'd done to Daniel had been on purpose, and he'd still forgiven me. I knew what it meant to get another chance.

The air around me was dim and close.

“It's okay, Mom,” I whispered.

At last I twisted onto my stomach and gently pushed the hatch door. We'd left it unlocked for air, but it was on a spring. It flew open, shaking the truck.

Daniel flipped over, startled awake. He looked at me and then outside, blinking at the brilliant blue sky and melting snow.

His guitars and amps were all on the side of the highway. As we loaded them back in, I was amazed that he would have risked this.

He was inside the truck, finding space for the things I passed him.

“Why don't you use our name when you sing?” I said, hoisting up the big amp.

He shuffled it tight against the guitar cases, to keep them from moving. I was holding my breath.

“It's no big deal,” he said finally. “Mom never
talks about her family – I don't know what their fight was about – but I think she misses them.”

He jumped back onto the ground. “I just thought if maybe they heard their name, heard it like it was famous, they'd wonder. And maybe look for us, or be proud.”

I was proud. I grabbed him suddenly around the shoulders in a hug.

“What was that for?” Daniel said, surprised.

“Because I don't do cards,” I said.

As we walked the highway back to The Pas, I wondered if he was the older brother and I had just been born first.

We went to the cafe beside Rene's Guitar Bar. From the cubicle in the entrance I made my first phone call, to have the truck towed in. I hadn't noticed any damage but I wanted them to check anyway, once they got it to the garage. It's the stuff you can't see, like a bent frame, that can give you the most trouble.

By the time I got back to the little window booth, Daniel had ordered breakfast. Two tall glasses, one orange juice and one water, were waiting for me. Everything ached. My joints felt like bones grinding into bones. But there's no quick fix for a hangover. Just time and liquids, and maybe aspirin.

I drank the water, and then the juice. Daniel's order came, one of those country breakfast specials
– eggs and ham and hash browns, toast on the side. I was amazed to see that much food in front of him, but I remembered he hadn't eaten at all yesterday.

He was grinning at me. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. Feel it, too.”

“You want something?”

I shook my head. “I have to phone Dad.”

“Yeah, you do,” he said as he began to cut up his fruit.

I got change from the cashier. Right up until I dialed, I didn't know which number I was going to punch in first.

“Good morning, Five Star Ford,” Judi said brightly.

“Judi, this is Jens.”

Her voice dropped. “I'll put you right through to Mr. Lahanni.”

The line never rang, not even once. His deep voice was suddenly against my ear. “Jens, where's my truck?”

“It's here with me in The Pas.”

“Is it all right? Are you?”

I hesitated. “It's…getting checked out. There was a storm and I wound up in the ditch.”

“If it's driveable, just bring it in. Any work we'll do in our shop.”

“I'll pay for it –”

“Yes, you will.” He hesitated. “Jens, I want
you to know, you were about two hours away from being charged with theft. I was giving you until noon.”

I felt dizzy again, a pulse of nausea. I could see how close I'd been to the edge.

“Maybe you think I'm being a hardass, but I like you, Jens,” Jack continued. “If I covered for you, you might get out too far.” I heard him sigh. “Believe me, that doesn't help anybody.”