On the Other Side of the Bridge (14 page)

“No, Lonnie, you're wrong,” Jo Marie said. “Look at me.” She took his face in her hands. “Look at me! Your mom's last thoughts about you weren't that you were a liar. Her last thoughts were that you finally told her the truth. That's what she remembered. You have to believe that. You just have to!” She wrapped her arms around him again. “I can't imagine how hard it's been for you to live with all that guilt. But please know that your mom didn't think bad of you. She never stopped loving you. She forgave you, just like God has forgiven you. Promise me you'll focus on that. You're not Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde.
You're a boy who lost his mother, and that's hard enough to deal with. You don't need a guilt trip eating you up.”

Of all the people in the world, Jo Marie was the last person Lonnie thought he would go to for comfort, but he was glad he did. He held her a little longer before pulling away, feeling drained and exhausted, yet somehow cleansed, as if all his sorrows had been washed away.

“Thank you, Jo Marie,” he said softly.

She wiped away her tears. “Hey, that's what friends are for, right? Now come on. I need someone to walk me home.”

L
ONNIE'S HOUSE WAS UNUSUALLY QUIET
when he arrived. The TV wasn't on, and his dad wasn't asleep on the couch. The Suburban was parked in the driveway, so Lonnie knew he was home.

“Dad?”

No answer.

“Dad, I'm home.”

Still nothing.

He peeked in his dad's bedroom. It was empty. He checked the study. The same. He wasn't in the bathroom, either.

When Lonnie looked in the kitchen, he recoiled in horror. He found his dad slumped in a chair, eyes closed, with a gun dangling in his hand. The gun holster and three beer cans sat on top of the breakfast table.

“DAD!”

He opened his eyes slowly. “Oh, hey, buddy. You home already?”

“Dad, give me the gun,” Lonnie said.

“What?”

Lonnie inched closer toward him with his hand outstretched. “Dad, please. Just give me the gun.”

He stared at it and made a face. “Whoa, what did you think I was gonna do, buddy?” He slipped the gun back
in its holster. “I know I ain't the smartest guy in the world, but I ain't crazy.”

“What are you doing with Mom's gun?” Lonnie asked, still feeling spooked.

His dad picked up a can and finished the rest of the beer. “I was trying to figure out where I could get some money,” he said. “Then I got an idea. I'm gonna take your mom's gun to a pawn shop to see what they'll give me for it. I was looking it over, and I guess I must've dozed off.”

With a silent sigh of relief, Lonnie pulled out a chair and sat down. As a precaution, he moved the gun away from his dad. “Have you heard anything from those places where you applied?”

His dad shook his head. “Nobody's hiring right now. I mean nobody. And when I do get a bite, there's always that question on the application that asks, ‘Why did you leave your last job?' I can't lie about it. They're gonna check. Or they'll ask, ‘Have you ever been convicted of a crime?' What am I supposed to say? Yeah, but I promise I won't do it again?”

“Somebody has to hire you eventually,” Lonnie said, trying to sound optimistic.

“Like who?” His dad picked up an empty beer can and crushed it like an accordion. “I don't know how to do nothing, except drive a truck. But with a DWI conviction on my record, nobody's gonna give me a job doing that.”

Changing the subject, Lonnie asked, “How much do you think you can get for Mom's gun?”

“Couple of hundred, maybe. But it's worth a lot more.” His dad folded his arms on the table and gave Lonnie a despairing look. “I'm gonna be honest with you, buddy. Things ain't going too good right now. I thought we'd have some money left over from your mom's
insurance policy, but the cost of the funeral took it all. I was able to pay most of last month's bills, but I don't know how long I can keep doing it.”

This was the first time his dad had been open about their money problems. Lonnie knew it had been gnawing at him, but up until now, he hadn't wanted to worry him with it. Still, he didn't have anyone else he could confide in. His dad was too proud to ask his parents for help. And he wasn't about to give his father-in-law any reason to suspect he was struggling financially.

“Maybe we could have a yard sale,” Lonnie suggested. “We have a lot of stuff we don't need that we can get rid of.”

“Yeah, I thought about that. And I hate to do it, but I'm gonna have to pawn some of your mom's jewelry. Also, I'm gonna turn in my Suburban 'cause I can't afford to make the payments on it. I'll drive your mom's Impala. I know her car's old, but it's paid for.”

“Dad, we're not in danger of going homeless, are we?” Lonnie asked, thinking about Moses.

“Homeless? 'Course not. Don't think like that, buddy. We're just going through a rough time, that's all. But like you said, somebody's gotta hire me eventually.”

As long as his dad was discussing finances, Lonnie felt he needed to add something. He picked up the crushed beer can and said, “Maybe you shouldn't drink so much. Beer costs a lot of money, and we really can't afford it.”

“Yeah, I know.” His dad tossed the beer cans in the trash. Then he grabbed the gun and holster. “Get started on your homework, and I'll find something for us to eat.”

“You're fixing dinner?” Lonnie asked.

“You think your old man don't know how to cook? I'm gonna make my specialty,
papas con huevo
with cheese and onions. Now go on. I'll call you when it's ready.”

This was an unexpected surprise. Lonnie's dad had never offered to cook dinner before. Maybe he'd had a change of heart after seeing his son's report card, and he realized Lonnie couldn't keep up with all the chores and school work without help.

In his room, Lonnie opened his math book. They had been studying percentages, and Mrs. Ridley had assigned fifteen word problems for homework.

Lonnie read the first one. He tried to think back to how Mrs. Ridley had explained the process for solving this type of word problem, but he drew a blank, just like he had done in class. Mrs. Ridley was a soft talker, so it was easy for him to tune out whenever she demonstrated how to do the work. He jotted down a few calculations, made some guesses and answered the problem.

Forty minutes later, he completed his work. He didn't know if the answers were correct, but at least he was done with that assignment. He was about to get started on his science homework when his dad called him.

The table was set with forks, paper towels and two steaming dishes of fried potatoes, mixed with scrambled eggs, cheese and onions. In the middle of the table a folded kitchen towel kept the flour tortillas inside it warm.

“Smells good,” Lonnie said.

His dad placed two iced tea glasses on the table. “And it tastes even better.”

Lonnie wondered if his dad was planning to take over the cooking duties, but he didn't ask.

While they ate, his dad began to complain about not being able to find a job. “It's so frustrating, you know? Everywhere I go, the answer is no, no, no. It really makes me mad.”

Cracking a smile, Lonnie said, “We all go a little mad sometimes. What movie does that line come from?”

His dad stared at him curiously. Then his face brightened. “
Psycho
. That's what Norman Bates said to Marion Crane.”

“Pretty good, Dad, but that was easy. Let's see if you know this one. In the movie,
The Day the Earth Stood Still
, what were Klaatu's instructions to Gort?”

“Wait. Don't tell me. I know this.” His dad scratched his chin with his fork. “Klaatu barada nikto.”

“That's right. Now you give me one.”

His dad wiped his mouth with his paper towel. “Okay, in the
Friday the 13th
movies, what kind of mask does Jason wear?”

“Aw, come on, Dad. That's too easy. Give me something harder.”

“Then go ahead and tell me, smart guy. What kind of mask does Jason wear?”

“A hockey mask,” Lonnie replied with a roll of his eyes. “Everybody knows that.”

“Wrong, buddy. Jason didn't start wearing the hockey mask till
Friday the 13th
Part 3. In Part 2, he wore a sack with a hole in it, and in Part 1, he didn't wear a mask.”

“You're gonna need a bigger boat,” Lonnie quoted.

“
Jaws
,” his dad answered right away. Then he asked, “What was the name of the clown in the movie
It
?”

“Pennywise,” Lonnie said, raising his arms in victory.

It had been months since they had played horror movie trivia. Lonnie's mom never understood any of the references, so she usually ignored them.

In a thick accent, Lonnie's dad said, “Listen to them, the children of the night. What sweet music they make. Who am I?”

Pretending to wrap a cape around his face, Lonnie answered in a similar accent, “Dracula.”

“I like Dracula,” his dad said. “But he's a real pain in the neck.”

“You know, he used to be an artist,” Lonnie joked. “He loved to draw blood.”

“Yeah, but he sucked at it,” his dad said, and they both laughed for the first time since before Lonnie's mother passed away.

S
ATURDAY MORNING
, L
ONNIE AND HIS DAD
held a yard sale in front of their house. Ms. Tedesco had given Lonnie permission to make two YARD SALE signs in art class. He stapled them to wooden stakes and stuck them into the ground near the sidewalk. Lonnie had found the stakes at a construction site and had taken them home because they reminded him of the ones movie vampires were killed with.

His dad borrowed two folding tables from Gilly. He used them to display some of the smaller items they were selling. He also tied a rope between two trees where he hung up clothes, mostly his wife's, but also some of Lonnie's that he had outgrown.

Lonnie contributed his action figures, board games, a soccer ball, a baseball bat and ball, comic books and magazines. He also brought out his entire DVD collection to sell, which he hated to do, but they needed every cent they could get.

They hadn't planned to start the sale until eight o'clock, but at seven-thirty, while they were setting up, two cars pulled up in front of their house. A man and a woman stepped out of the first car, and three ladies, friends of the couple, slid out of the car behind them.

The women took their time looking over each item, but the man zeroed in on Lonnie's box of DVDs. As he read through the titles, his eyes widened.

“How much?” he asked Lonnie.

“Uh, they're two dollars each.” Lonnie said. He had paid a lot more for the DVDs, but his dad had told him that people were more likely to buy their merchandise if they sold it at a cheap price.

“What do you want for the whole box?” the man asked.

It hadn't occurred to Lonnie that someone would want to buy all of them. There were ninety-two DVDs in the box. Times two dollars each would make the price a hundred and eighty-four dollars. But since the man was willing to buy the whole collection, Lonnie decided to give him a discount. “I'll take a hundred and seventy-five dollars for them,” he said.

The man pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket and ran his fingers through them. “Tell you what, sonny. I'll give you a hundred bucks for the whole thing. What do you say?”

“A hundred bucks?” Lonnie was insulted by the offer. “Mister, these DVDs are worth a lot more than that.” He fished out
Return to Darkness
. “I paid almost twenty dollars for this one.”

His dad heard their conversation and came over. “What's going on?”

“Dad, he says he wants to buy all my DVDs, but he only wants to give me a hundred bucks for them.”

The man grabbed a handful of DVDs and spread them apart in his hands, like playing cards. “Sure, you've got a few good ones in the bunch. But most of them, like
Attack
of the Sewer Rats
and
A Howl in the Night
, ain't worth more than four bits apiece.”

“Let me talk to my son,” Lonnie's dad told him. “You go ahead and look around. See if there's anything else you wanna buy.”

He took Lonnie aside, away from the shoppers. “Listen, buddy. Don't let that guy rattle you. This is a strategy yard sale hunters use. They make you a low offer and hope they can buy it at that price, but they're usually willing to pay more. I guarantee you that guy runs a booth in a flea market or has a used DVD store, where he'll sell your movies for a lot more.”

“What should I tell him?” Lonnie asked.

“Say that you'll take a hundred and fifty.”

“And what if he says no?”

“Then you negotiate with him.”

One of the ladies held up a mirror and called Lonnie's dad over. Lonnie took a deep breath and walked up to the man.

“How about a hundred and fifty dollars?” he asked.

The man furrowed his brows. “I'll go as high as a hundred and thirty, but that's it.”

“Make it a hundred and forty and you've got yourself a deal,” Lonnie said, trying to keep his voice from quaking.

“One forty? That's still a lot of money.”

“It's only ten dollars more than what you offered me. What do you say?”

“You drive a hard bargain, sonny, but … okay, one forty it is.” The man pulled the wad of bills from his pocket again and counted out the money.

It bugged Lonnie to have to sell his DVDs for almost nothing, but at least they now had a hundred and forty dollars more than what they started out with.

The ladies bought a rocking chair, the mirror one of them had asked about, a still-life flower painting, two dresses and a small bookcase.