Kiss Me, Curse Me

Patty couldn’t take much more of it. With flask in hand, he rambled along D Street. He knew what was there. He knew what he wanted. He was drunk beyond all measures. Last time he did so was many years ago after the birth of Coreen when her mother died. She’d bled inordinately from the complications of childbirth. He never really got an explanation for the cause. Days before, her legs had become quite swollen to the point where she couldn’t walk well. She was happy in her discomfort, even smiled right before she passed, with the baby in her arms.

After the tragic moment, after her arms went limp, Patty took the baby, handed his new daughter over to his grandmother and walked straight out of the room. He came back two days later to a storm of attack. He didn’t care. He’d needed to escape, just as he needed to now.

Grimacing away the memory and washing it down with another swig, he slithered. The streets were packed. He bumped into the odd person received a scolding, and continued on to a place he knew he shouldn’t go. He just wanted to feel something, anything besides grief.

The building was not marked. Some called it “the Shack,” others called it “the Honey Hive.” Regardless of the ridiculous names, the place had just one purpose. He pushed on the heavy wooden door. You’d think it would be easier to open with all the routine traffic it gets. His head dropped as the door gave way. There was barely room to move in the place. He squished his way over to the bar, no stools available, so he inched away into the back and leaned against the very last corner of the bar counter.

The music was surprisingly lighthearted, with a slight tease. The girl on stage was pale, ethereal almost, decked in ivory beads. He watched her move in his daze, felt the rhythm of her hips, saw the gleam in her eye. She was young, that he knew. He pushed the thought away and enjoyed the feel of the place. The atmosphere was revitalizing yet seductive and calming. It was a place to be forgotten, maybe even reborn.

“May I get you something?” a sweet voice said. It was familiar to him, though he didn’t know why.

“Whatever,” he said. “I don’t care as long as it’s strong.” He took a swig from his flask.

“I’m afraid we don’t allow flasks, Mister.”

“Fine,” he said handing it over. “Take it.” He looked at her as her slapped the sliver heirloom down on the counter, the clear contents spilling forth. Her eyes were dark, her smile pure. He liked her. He’d seen her before. “I know you.”

“No. I don’t think so, Mister.”

“What is your name?”

“I am Betty.”

“This is your place?”

“Yes,” she said lightly.

He couldn’t hear well from the noise, but recognized the agreement. He downed the drink she passed to him. “Another.” She did as he asked, and he slapped the bills down. “I need something more tonight.”

Betty admired the large amount of tender and motioned for him to follow.

He tried his best to make it through the multitude. A few shoves later, he was in a dark hall.

“What would you like?” she asked.

“You.”

“As you wish.”

Betty led him upstairs, to the left around the banister, to the room next to where Ahanu slept. It was small, decked in shades of emerald green with nothing more than a lamp, a bed, and a window. She opened it up wide to let in the warm night air, and Patty took a seat on the large bed.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said guiltily, knowing all well that he had.

“Shhh,” she said as she undid the delicate satin buttons on the front of her corset. She dropped her garbs revealing something tight, black and see-through, approached him front on pushing him back onto the bed.

“You’ve got me the whole night with that wad,” she said.

“Fair enough.” He smiled.



***



He woke to the harsh sunlight. Squinting an eye open, Patty rolled over, barely able. It was like he was stuck at the bottom of the ocean with the weight of all the sea upon him. He groaned as every inch of him ached, especially his head, but could feel a supple body next to him in the bed. His one-night woman was sound asleep. If only he could remember her name, he wouldn’t feel so guilty. Returning to the recesses of his lids, Patty attempted to enjoy the sensation of the early morning breeze. If only those damn birds would just shut the hell up.

She moved just as he’d almost fallen back to sleep. Her hand moved up on his chest. He pretended to sleep by slowing his breathing just a little.

“You rascal,” she whispered.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “Lighten up on me here.”

“Breakfast? I’ll have the girls bring us up something.”

“Sure. Something light. My stomach . . .”

She kind of scooted to the end of the bed pulling the sheet with her, leaving him to fend for his privates. A call out the door for their order, and she was back in bed again.

“So tell me, Mister, haven’t see you in here before.” She batted her eyes a bit.

He couldn’t help but grin. She was stunning. “Patty, I’m Patty. I’m sorry, I was so. . .”

“Drunk. Yes, I noticed you were a bit. Your days of bathtub gin are over. I’m Betty. Are you all right?”

Patty racked his brain for an answer better than the truth, but couldn’t muster a thing with the pounding in the front of his skull. “I had a rough day yesterday.”

“We all have those. Tell me something more. I’m good at other things besides what we just shared.” She ran her red nail along his arm.

His face became solemn.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” She stopped with the nail.

“My daughter . . . She’s missing and probably dead. Well, she’s dead.”

Betty’s eyes widened, her stomach shifting into her throat, “Your daughter?”

“My Coreen.”

“Coreen?” Betty shifted awkwardly in the bed.

“Yes.” Patty closed his eyes.



***



Ed joined the crew on the bus headed down to the dam. He engaged in all the rotten conversation that men have in the absence of women, mostly enjoying it till his ears perked overhearing a conversation from a scrawny youngster in the back—an interesting development about a missing girl from town, a lead engineer’s daughter.

Ed yelled over the noise, which soon halted. “A girl you say?”

The youngster stopped his talk, catching the seriousness of Ed’s tone. The bearded man had a reputation of sorts amongst the workers—quite the intimidator—rumors that he had murdered those who crossed him. “Yeah. There’s a girl missing. Saw the search party yesterday.”

“Who?”

“Ah dunno. No one spoke to us about it.”

“Then how do you know, if no one spoke to you about it?”

The youngster’s eyes widened, “I heard it is all.”

“Christ,” said Ed. “What use are you? Twit.”

Going back to his conversation with the man next to him, Ed couldn’t fully engage as he ruminated on the boy who’d attacked him last night. The fight still bothered him. He wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.

“Let me off the bus,” Ed bellowed at the driver. “Let me off.”

The bus came screeching to a stop and off Ed jumped, the men watching after him as he ran back along the dirt road.



***



A few bites of apple down, some water, and Patty dressed. “I must be going.”

“I’m sorry about your daughter,” said Betty.

“Me too.” He buttoned up his shirt. “I want to thank you for your kindness. I haven’t been with a. . . ”

“No need.” she put a hand up to him. “Maybe she’ll turn up. You know sometimes girls run away.”

“No. Not this time. We found her dress.” He shook his head glancing down.

Betty just listened.

He sat back down on the bed again to look out the window, just staring at the view of the building next door. “I never expected this to happen. I didn’t see it coming. I mean, I said goodbye to her at the fair. She seemed fine there. I mean Hank was with her.”

“Hank?”

“Her boyfriend. He’d asked me for her hand in marriage just the other day.”

Betty lifted an eyebrow.

“Ugh. I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m due down at the station. Need to go.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Betty moved over to him and rubbed his back a bit. For some reason, she liked Patty, wasn’t often she felt anything for any of them. “Don’t give up on her. She could still turn up. You don’t know for sure.” She wanted to help him. It was his firm voice or something more maybe.

Monitoring Patty’s departure, Betty hurried back up to her bedroom. Ahanu was by Coreen’s side. “Sleep well?”

“Not really,” said Ahanu, sounding exhausted. He was still in his white undershirt and jeans.

“I have a change of clothes here about your size.” Betty disappeared into her closet bringing back a black, short-sleeved, button-up shirt and black slacks. “Razor on the sink too.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the garb.

She turned the other way to let him change and clean up at the sink on the other side of the window.

“We are lucky,” she said, catching a glimpse of the Indian slathering soap on his face and running the blade down his cheek.

“Why?” he said.

“Her father just left.”

“What?” he jerked his head toward her, catching his skin. “Ooof.”

Betty approached him, handing him a towel to blot the small cut. “He came in last night. I didn’t know who he was at the time. He’s gone now. Doesn’t know a thing. You were right to drop the dress. They think she’s dead.”

Ahanu rubbed his face and finished up the shave.

She turned away again so he could dress. “He’s a good man, you know.”

“Oh no. You were with him?”

“Well what do you think this place is, a dairy?”

“I have to go,” he said.

“Go where?”

“My folks. I have to check in. They’ll be wondering where I am. I mean, I don’t need people looking for me too. They know I like to wander, but I’m never gone too long. My mother will worry.”

“Hey, I’m not holding you hostage. She is.” Betty nodded toward the sick girl in the bed.

He scowled at her. “I’d do anything. It pains me to keep her here after what happened with that—”

“Ed won’t say anything.”

“How do you know?”

“He won’t.”

“Watch her for me? I don’t want to leave but . . . ack . . . I can’t leave her.”

“No, you go. She’ll be safe.”

“I want someone in here with her all the time—a girl, someone decent.”

“Sure . She’ll be fine. By the way. . .” She gave him a look. “I need you to deliver something for me since you’ll be up that way.”

“What?”

“A package. It’s wrapped. Don’t open it. His name is Kanti. You know him.”

Ahanu shook his head. “No. I can’t go.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t. It’s forbidden.”

“You need to get over that. He’s harmless.”

“No. There’s something off with him.”

“He won’t bite. He’s waiting for this. Anyway you don’t have a choice. Need I remind you?”

“I know. I know.” Ahanu buttoned up the last button.

“Black suits you. I’ll have your clothes washed and pressed for you.” She tilted her head toward the door. “I need to get ready for the day. It’s going to be busy. I’ll meet you downstairs.”



***



Patty cleaned up at home before he went over to the station. It was too quiet in his little house. The décor was simple, clean, white, except for his big, green sofa. That was a bonus specially delivered to him after his big promotion. He sat on it while sipping crème de menthe—to cover the smell of a wild night out.

Loneliness was all he felt, as he took a minute in Coreen’s bedroom. She loved yellow, and she loved flowers. He usually brought her fresh ones once a week, though the current bunch of daisies wilted in the makeshift vase, a green Vaseline jar, upon her white mirrored vanity. He lifted the vase, dumped the flowers out in the kitchen trash, and rinsed it out. Thinking about what to do next, he began to sob. He poured one more shot of the green stuff and headed out, forgetting about replacing the flowers.

A five-minute drive through the right side of town, nicknamed Dam Town, and he was already at the sheriff’s station. Surprisingly the office was dead. He entered to find the little secretary typing loudly away at something, the typewriter bing repeating often. She looked at him through her little, rectangular frames. “May I help you?” She dressed much older than she actually was—the spinster type—plain, blue dress choking her at the neck with a white, shell-edged collar.

“Doby?”

“He’s out with the search party.”

“Oh.”

She nodded up at the clock. Patty looked not realizing the time—four o’clock.

“He left this for you.” She handed him a note.

Waited for you, headed upstream with the crew. We’ll find you when we get back. Take it easy.

Patty folded the note in his pocket and looked up as another fellow entered, wearing full dam gear: suspenders, white shirt, khaki pants, and yellow helmet in hand. He was too clean however. Hadn’t been at work today.

“I need to see the sheriff,” he said in a stern tone.

Patty took a few steps back and sat on the grey-upholstered waiting room seats, observing. Everything was grey in that place. It was depressing.

“He’s not in right now,” she said. “He should be back in an hour or two.”

“This is urgent. It’s about that girl. That missing one.”

Patty stood, “Excuse me there. I’m her father. Do you know something?”

Ed turned to see the shorter, balding fellow before him, looking worn down in his tan shirt and tan pants. He quickly hid his smile. “You’re her father?”

“Yes, I’m Patty. Tell me. We’ve been searching for her.”

“Well . . .” Ed paused. “I think I know something about someone.”

“What? Spit it out already.”

Ed put his hand up. “A kid.”

“What kid?”

“An Indian kid.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ahanu.”



***