He asked if there was anything else and she said no and he took his toolbox and left. Stopped at a gas station and filled up with gas and started to buy beer but then got that feeling. That Friday night, nothing to do tomorrow, damn it’s a beautiful night feeling. And beer wouldn’t do so he stopped at the liquor store and bought a fifth of bourbon. Old Charter. Aged eight years. The same kind of bottle that his dad had kept in the kitchen cabinet over the stove. Drove over to Sarah’s apartment and she and her mother and her maid of honor were there. Planning. Always planning now. Only a handful of weeks away. He talked to them a minute and kissed her and she asked if he’d take her car and get the oil changed tomorrow and he said yeah. Got his bottle out of the truck and got in her car and slid the seat back all the way. Stopped at a convenience store and bought a giant Styrofoam cup filled with Coke and he poured out a third of the Coke and opened the Old Charter and started up. Drove out on the highway to JC’s. A few trucks and a few motorcycles in the gravel parking lot. Door open to the pool hall and music coming out and he took his bottle in because JC only sold beer. Couple of guys with beards and tattoos at one table and a couple of guys in their work shirts at another and JC sitting behind the bar reading the newspaper. The small, wrinkled man looked up and said hey to Russell and saw the bottle in one of his hands and the giant cup in the other and he opened up the cooler and set two cans of Coke on the bar. He sat and talked with JC and watched them play pool. Some left and others came in and a couple of hours passed and it was closer to dark. A solid dent in the bottle now. Said goodbye to JC and nodded to some men he knew and walked out and got in her car. Head feeling about right and the night feeling about right and his life feeling about right. Drove on and felt good. Couldn’t help but feel good. Stopped on the side of the road to piss and lightning bugs flashed across the field. Hundreds of them. Sat down on the hood of the car and watched them for a while.
Then he had to drive back to town for more ice and more Coke and he ran into an old girlfriend at the convenience store and she made a joke about him getting married and that being the end of it and he told her that he didn’t hear many women talk like that but he knew she wasn’t like many women. She said you damn right, Russell. You by yourself? I am except for half a bottle of Old Charter and she said you need some company. He said I thought you said that was the end of it. She said you ain’t married yet and he smiled and said you don’t need me. The night is young. It always is she said and she slapped him on the rear end and climbed in and they drank and drove through the neighborhoods a couple of blocks back from Delaware. She bit his ear and ran her hand under his shirt and he did the same to her while trying to keep it on the road. She grabbed at his belt and he said you better not and he drove back to the convenience store. She kissed his neck and got in her car and drove off and he did the same. Close to midnight now and back out to the desolate roads. Drinking more than he had planned on but driving and singing now and then with the voices on the radio and stopping at a stop sign and not sure which way to go. Then driving on and stopping at another and not sure which way to go. Eyes lagging behind if he moved his head from side to side. A deer cut across in front of him and he swerved and spilled his drink in his lap and he stopped the car. Got out and wiped his pants with napkins from the glove compartment. Poured another one and got back in and driving on and playing with the radio stations and coming over the hill and picking up speed coming down the hill and never seeing the truck with its lights off parked on the bridge.
The end, he thought. Then he corrected himself.
The beginning.
He walked down the church steps and the exhaustion grabbed him as the chimes in the steeple rang and announced 5:00 a.m. There was nothing to do but go and lie down. Several blocks later he turned onto his street and he saw the truck in his driveway.
Those sons of bitches, he whispered.
He parked the truck at the end of the street and grabbed the 20-gauge from behind the seat and walked toward the house. The light was on in the living room and Russell walked quietly to the front door and it was open, a foot wide. He nudged it fully open with the barrel of the shotgun and he saw Larry standing at the mantel and holding the picture of Sarah.
Larry looked at him and held the frame toward him. “That’s real sweet.”
Russell stepped through the doorway with the gun barrel toward the floor. “Get out of here,” he said.
Larry set the frame down on the mantel. He adjusted the angle once. And then twice. “I don’t sleep much,” he said. He looked back at Russell.
“So what?”
“Just so you know. I don’t sleep much. Ain’t going to.”
“Me either.”
“I guess you know she’s signed, sealed, delivered,” Larry said. He pointed his thumb at Sarah. “Shame, too. She was a good ride. That’s what I hear. Woman’s got to cope somehow when her man is gone away.”
Russell raised the barrel and held it on Larry. “I told you to get the hell out of here.”
“I saw her damn near strip naked downtown one night. Dancing and drunk and it was hot as hell. This ol’ boy started grabbing at her on the dance floor and next thing we knew she was down to her bra. Skirt was up. He had his hands full of it.”
“Where’s your stupid brother?”
“I think I might’ve even stuck a five in her panties. It was a good show.”
Larry picked up the picture frame again and rubbed her face on his zipper. “Like that, honey. Like that,” he said. He grinned and winked at Russell.
“Come on out. I know you’re here,” Russell said.
Walt moved into the living room from the kitchen. He was holding a beer he’d gotten from the refrigerator in one hand and he had a pamphlet he had taken from the manila folder in the other.
“Becoming a citizen again,” Walt read. “How to become a model member of your community.” Walt held the brochure out to Larry and Larry laughed.
“I don’t get the feeling it’s gonna be that easy,” Larry said.
“He’s got a whole file in there,” Walt said. “Looks like they ain’t expecting to see him again.”
“I would not count on that. You know he’s gonna fuck up again.”
“Bound to.”
“Some stupid little slip and he’ll be back.”
“Just one.”
“Like shooting somebody. That’d be real dumb.”
Russell raised the shotgun and held aim on Larry and then he spelled the word trespassing out loud. One slow letter at a time.
“It’s got two s’s,” Walt said.
“It’s got three s’s,” Larry said.
“No it don’t.”
“Yeah it does.”
“No it don’t.”
“You want him to do it again?”
“Shut the hell up and get your ass out of here,” Russell said.
“Here, Walt. You want some of this?” Larry handed the picture to his brother.
“Nah,” Walt said. “I know where all that’s been.”