Evidence of Things Not Seen (11 page)

“I’ll get you, you S.O.B.,” her momma yelled out her window. The giggle was gone. She was on the hunt.

Karla reached for stuffed bear and pulled it to her. “Momma—”

“Shut up, Karla Ray. I got to get our money. That S.O.B. thinks he’s gonna get a free one offa me, he’s got another thing coming.”

Karla felt the car accelerate again. Her momma honked the horn. The blasts whipped by the open windows. Karla peeked out and saw the edge of a dark pickup loom alongside. A man in a white cowboy hat was framed in the window. He was laughing. In his teeth was a bill. He took it out of his mouth and held it outside his car like he was going to drop it.

The car swerved. Karla slid across the backseat. Her momma held the wheel with one hand and reached across the seat with the other, trying to grab the bill.

“Goddamnit. Jimmy, Stop your goddamn truck and pay me my money.”

The pickup truck slowed but it didn’t stop. The man reached farther out the window. The bill flapped in his fingertips.

“Karla Ray! Get your little butt up and get my twenty bucks.”

“But Momma—”

“Get it before I stop the car and beat your backside twenty times.”

Karla set her bear on the floor and knelt on the backseat. She leaned out the window and grabbed onto the handle above the door. As she stood, she leaned farther out away from the car. The man’s hand was right there. She could grab the bill and be done. But the hot wind caught her. It whipped through her hair and across her face. The stink of the heavy marsh air was gone. It was warm. She reached past the man’s arm and hung her body farther out the window. Maybe she could fly.

Slap.
Her thigh burned.

“Karla. Quit fooling.”

Karla pulled herself back inside the car. As she did, she grabbed the bill out of the man’s hand and flopped onto the backseat.

The white of her momma’s palm flashed in front of her face. “Give it.”

Karla handed the bill to her momma and picked up her bear.

“That’s a good girl.”

The two vehicles were still barreling down the two-lane blacktop. Karla looked over at the man in the pickup truck. He was staring at her. Then he leaned out the window, slowing down a little.

“How much for a poke at her, Sandy?”

“Way more than twenty bucks.”

“How much for another one with you?”

“Depends on what you want.”

“Same. I’m a married man.”

“Pull over.”

Karla felt the car slow down and bump as the tires dropped off the highway. Then it jerked to a stop. The gravel and sand skidded to silence. As soon as they stopped, the oily marsh air crawled in the window and lay on top of Karla. The night glowed orange with the refinery lights across the marsh.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Karla watched as her momma strutted up to the man walking toward her. She only came up to his chest.

“You better pay me first. Goddamnit.”

“You’re a tough little bitch.”

“That’s right. Just the way you like me.”

Her momma’s palm flashed again. This time at the man. He pulled out his wallet and put a bill in her hand. She walked to the marsh side of the man’s truck but the man didn’t move. He was looking into the car at Karla. Karla wasn’t sure he could see her so she hugged her bear in front of her and slid farther down in the seat to make sure he couldn’t.

“Let’s do it right here.”

Karla’s momma turned. She was standing off to the side. Karla could see her face framed in the passenger window. She followed the man’s eyes to the backseat where her eight-year-old daughter sat. At first, anger flickered in her eyes and her mouth tensed like it always did when Karla sassed her. Then Karla watched her momma’s lips curl like another car chase had started and she was going to win.

“Having an audience’ll cost extra.”

“How much?”

Karla watched her momma measure the man, trying to figure out how much extra he’d pay, how much would drive him away. “Another twenty.”

He pulled out another bill and handed it to her momma. He never stopped staring into the car. Karla saw her momma step toward the man. She took the money and dropped out of view. Karla heard the gritty notches of the man’s zipper. She slid down in the backseat till all she could see was the blank starless night. She knew the man was still looking in the car. She heard his hands grab the hood. She could feel the car rock in time with his grunts. Faster.

It was almost over.

It had just begun.

“We’ll make it like a party, Karla Ray. It will be a party,” her momma said. “A thousand-dollar party. All paid up. We’ll give you a little hoochie hooch, make sure you’re nice and relaxed. Then you lay there and let him do his thing.” Her momma was standing in front of the bathroom mirror putting on makeup. Karla Ray perched on the back of the toilet and looked at herself in the mirror. In some ways she looked like a carbon copy of her momma. Full crazy-curly hair, brown eyes, short and thin body. But her momma looked like a woman. Karla thought she looked like a boy with boobs.

“What if he doesn’t like me, Momma?”

“Oh, he’ll like you. Believe me,” she said, pulling Karla off her perch. “You got a nice tight little body. Your boobs have perked up. Besides, you don’t have to be good, he paid a thousand dollars for a puredee thirteen-year-old virgin. That’ll be excitement enough for George.”

Karla’s momma put her arm around Karla’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, honey. This money’s gonna help us out. With two of us earning, we can really go places. We might be able to get our apartment back.” She smiled at Karla and kissed her cheek.

Karla was happy to be helping her momma. That part was good. Even the thought of moving back into an apartment made her glad. She didn’t like living out of their car or always having to check out of motels by noon. But sometimes the men scared her. She’d heard all their grunts and groans. She’d heard the names they called her momma. She didn’t like the way they glared at her. Part of her wanted to crawl on the floor of the closet with a pillow like always and let her momma take care of the men.

“I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Of course you can, honey bun.” Her momma put her arms around Karla. “This is like your first day at a new job. It’s normal to be nervous. Remember, he’s the boss, and if you do what he says, everything is going to be fine.” She poured some clear liquid from a bottle. “Drink a little vodka. It will help you relax.”

The liquor burned in Karla Ray’s mouth. Her throat closed. She choked.

“Probably shoulda mixed it with some juice for you but we don’t have any. That’s right. Get it all down.”

Karla gagged but swallowed all of it. She felt it burn in her stomach. The Happy Meal her momma still ordered for her because it was cheaper came hurtling up. She leaned over the toilet and puked.

“Better here than in the bed,” said her momma. “Now brush your teeth and we’ll have another little drinkie.”

Her momma poured two glasses half-full of alcohol. As Karla spit out the toothpaste and rinsed her brush, her momma sprinkled some perfume on the back of her neck. It was from the little special bottle that her momma always kept at the bottom of her purse.

“The men like it when you smell good. One of ’em told me one time that it made him think I was his own private flower. Isn’t that nice?” Her momma handed her a glass. “Let’s hope you find someone who wants to make you his flower.”

“Like get married?”

“Sure. Or take real good care of you. You know, set you up in style. Now let’s have a toast. Tonight’s the night you are going to become a woman and I am so proud of you.”

They clinked glasses. Karla’s momma drank hers in three gulps. Karla sipped hers.

“Keep drinking it, honey. It’s for your own good.”

Karla grimaced and swallowed again and again until it was gone. She felt her stomach want to pitch it out but she made herself hold it down. She’d taken sips of her momma’s drinks before and they’d never made her sick. Everything about this night made her feel sick.

“That’s right. Let it tingle all around. Feel better?”

Karla nodded. She didn’t but she knew what her momma wanted to hear. After a few minutes, it felt like the alcohol bypassed her stomach and went straight to her head.

“Good girl. Now you do what he says and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’ve listened to me take care of the men enough times, you’ll be a natural.” She checked her watch. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Her momma opened the bathroom door just as there was a loud knock on the motel room door. She grinned at Karla, excited. “He’s here. Your first one is here, baby.”

Karla tried to smile but she felt a little wobbly.

Her momma opened the door, giggling and purring. “Don’t you look handsome, George. Oh Karla, look at your date. George, I think you know Karla.”

The man was wearing a black cowboy hat, a black shirt, and pressed jeans and boots. A toothpick stuck out the side of his mouth as he grinned at Karla.

“Now you be good to my little girl. I’m going down to the lounge and see if I can scare up a little business myself.”

Karla’s stomach lurched again. Her momma had said she’d stay right outside the door. She gulped some air so she wouldn’t puke.

“There’s some liquor in the bathroom, George. She might need a little drinkie and I promised her a party.” And then her momma stepped through the door and was gone.

“Oh, we’ll have a party, won’t we, little girl?” the man said, sliding the chain lock across the door. Then he turned to Karla and unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll be here all night and you got a thousand dollars worth of party to give me. Now pour me a drink and get into your birthday suit. I got some cherries to pop.”

The thousand dollars didn’t take Karla and her momma anyplace new. Her momma did get them a cheap apartment off I-45. She even enrolled Karla in a middle school and turned tricks all day long at the apartment while Karla was in school. Until a neighbor complained. Her momma said it was because she didn’t give it to him for free. Either way, they had to move to a by-the-week motel. Her momma said she made a deal with the manager, which included cheaper rent as long as she did her business (except with him) off the premises. Karla tried to keep going to school, but because her momma needed help with the men at night, Karla couldn’t wake up early enough to get to school. She didn’t really mind. She liked being with her momma. She liked helping with the men sometimes. What she liked best of all was when they got back to their room late at night and she and her momma sat up late talking. Her momma usually poured them a drink and lighted cigarettes for both of them. They’d laugh about the men, how all of them complained about their wives’ not giving them any. To Karla, it seemed like the secret to staying married was giving your husband a blowjob once a week. Karla would listen to how her momma would give certain men time limits if they were too drunk to get a hard-on. Always she told Karla, get the money first. “They get all sleepy and forgetful after they get their rocks off.” These were the times Karla felt closest to her momma, like they were sisters. Sometimes she told Karla about the nicer men, the men who were regulars and slipped her extra money. Karla knew her momma hoped they would come back for her. Take care of her. After she talked about those men, she usually fell asleep with a smile on her face.

In the morning, though, her momma was grouchy with a hangover. The twenties didn’t seem so plentiful and the round of bars and kneeling in toilet stalls or outside on gravel loomed closer. For three years, Karla and her momma worked the dance halls and lounges up and down I-45 from Houston to Galveston. At the dance halls, her momma would go in the front door, because she was over twenty-one, and let Karla in the back door. By the time she got to the back door, her momma had six tricks ready for Karla to turn. She’d march Karla right to the men’s room and tell her to get to work. When she complained, her momma would say, “We’ve got to make a hundred and eighty dollars tonight. How do you want to do that?”

One time Karla suggested she get a job dancing at a topless bar. Her momma shot that idea down. “First of all, men only put dollars in that G-string, not twenties. So you might wag your butt around that bar all night and only make twenty bucks. Besides, you have to be eighteen to work there. You’d probably make a lot more money turning tricks outside the topless bar than dancing in one.” More and more, her momma was less like a sister or a friend and more like a boss.

They stayed at motels farther off the highway, sometimes driving all night to find cheap ones. Her momma taught Karla to drive in case she’d had too much to drink or they needed to drive longer than she could stay awake. The next night, they’d head back toward the dance halls and lounges and bars, looking for cowboys. Her momma was always looking for cowboys. She thought they had more money. Karla knew she secretly hoped she’d find a rich one. Karla doubted it would ever happen. She felt like those cowboys probably treated their horses better than they treated her or her momma.

One night, when Karla was seventeen, she pointed to a biker bar off the highway. “Let’s hit that one.”

Her momma shook her head. “I don’t like bikers.”

“What’s the matter with bikers?”

“They’re mean.”

Karla laughed. A short, sharp laugh. The kind that might double as a slap across the face. The kind that shoved the other person away. Karla yanked the car off highway and cut hard across the access road into the parking lot of the bar, which was filled mostly with Harleys. Karla opened the car door and got out.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“You can have your ass-slapping, butt-fucking cowboys, Momma. I’ll take my chances with the mean bikers.”

Karla slammed the car door and walked toward the bar. She felt a little wobbly. It was the first time Karla had ever stood up to her momma and did something different. She heard gravel crunch under the tires. She was sure her momma had slid across into the driver’s seat and was pulling into a parking space. But then she heard the car accelerate and the gravel spray as the wheels sped out of the parking lot. Karla almost stopped to look back. If she had, she might have seen the chasm of air that her momma left behind. She might have felt that sudden emptiness press on her heart. She might have stopped and run after the car and her momma, yelling. But she didn’t. She knew her momma wasn’t turning around either. She imagined her momma’s eyes were squinted like when she got mad. She was probably lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out hard. Karla paused a second or two at the sound of her momma’s departure. Maybe one footfall took a little longer to hit the ground. But she kept going.