man with a beard was renting the house. I don’t
know, he said. I just moved in. I don’t know anything about them. They left some stuff
in the basement if you want that.
He drove to the post office and the police station and talked to people at both places.
They didn’t know anything either. He returned to the street where the house was located
and knocked on the neighbors’ doors, but it had begun to snow now and the few people
who were home didn’t want to stand there talking to him with the snow blowing in.
On the opposite side of the street he finally found an old woman who told him the
parents had moved back to a town in Nebraska and that their daughter had gone off
to Denver with the two children. He thanked her and started driving back to Holt in
the gathering storm. The wind was blowing the snow across the two-lane blacktop so
hard that he had to squint to be sure that he was still on the road and he was forced
to stop every five or six miles to scrape off the windshield.
Two weeks later he drove to Denver. It was on a Sunday and he told Mary that he had
to pick up a special order. He didn’t tell her then and he never did tell her nor
anyone else what he was doing. The wind was blowing again but there wasn’t any snow
this time. He arrived in Denver in the middle of the afternoon.
From there it was almost too easy. Her name was listed in the phone book. She and
the two children were living in a one-bedroom apartment in a run-down house in the
middle of the city. He climbed the stairs and went back into the dark hallway and
knocked. There was noise inside, a TV going. Then the door opened and she stood before
him. She looked bad now. She had let herself go. She was barefoot and still wearing
a bathrobe in the afternoon, made of some thick fuzzy material, dirty at the front
and frayed at the cuffs. Her blond hair had grown out unevenly and she hadn’t yet
combed it for the day. She stood in the doorway staring at him.
You, she said. What are you doing here? Didn’t you do enough already?
I wanted to talk to you, he said.
How’d you find me?
You’re in the phone book.
Oh. Well, I don’t have a phone no more. They shut it off. I can’t afford it. What
do you want?
I come to see how you are.
I’m here, look at me. Can’t you see? What’d you think would happen?
Dad looked at her and looked away. He said, I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry it
turned out this way.
You’re sorry.
I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.
Jesus Christ, she said.
Can I talk to you a minute?
What do you want to talk about? You want to take me up on my offer? Is that it? You
changed your mind?
Your offer. What offer?
To let you fuck me. Pay off what he stole.
What? No. For hell’s sake. That’s not what I come for.
Well, I can’t blame you. She pulled the robe tighter. The way I look now.
It’s not that. Is that what you think? It’s not about that. I come to help you if
I can. Can I talk to you?
You just want to talk.
That’s right.
You mean you want to come in.
Yes, so we can talk a little.
Come in then. It’s a mess. But I’m not going to apologize to you. Why should I?
He followed her back through the dark living room, past the two children sprawled
on the floor like some kind of little animals in front of the television, watching
some animated movie.
Come out here, she said.
In the kitchen she removed dirty dishes from the table and put them into the sink
which was already full of dirty dishes, and swiped at the table with a washrag. Sit
down, she said. Don’t be so polite. You don’t have to wait for me.
He sat down. She dropped the washrag in the sink and sat across from him and lit a
cigarette. He looked at her and watched her smoke. Then he removed the wallet from
his back pocket and took out all the bills and stacked them on the table. He had five
hundred dollars to give her. She stared at him.
What’s
know, he said. I just moved in. I don’t know anything about them. They left some stuff
in the basement if you want that.
He drove to the post office and the police station and talked to people at both places.
They didn’t know anything either. He returned to the street where the house was located
and knocked on the neighbors’ doors, but it had begun to snow now and the few people
who were home didn’t want to stand there talking to him with the snow blowing in.
On the opposite side of the street he finally found an old woman who told him the
parents had moved back to a town in Nebraska and that their daughter had gone off
to Denver with the two children. He thanked her and started driving back to Holt in
the gathering storm. The wind was blowing the snow across the two-lane blacktop so
hard that he had to squint to be sure that he was still on the road and he was forced
to stop every five or six miles to scrape off the windshield.
Two weeks later he drove to Denver. It was on a Sunday and he told Mary that he had
to pick up a special order. He didn’t tell her then and he never did tell her nor
anyone else what he was doing. The wind was blowing again but there wasn’t any snow
this time. He arrived in Denver in the middle of the afternoon.
From there it was almost too easy. Her name was listed in the phone book. She and
the two children were living in a one-bedroom apartment in a run-down house in the
middle of the city. He climbed the stairs and went back into the dark hallway and
knocked. There was noise inside, a TV going. Then the door opened and she stood before
him. She looked bad now. She had let herself go. She was barefoot and still wearing
a bathrobe in the afternoon, made of some thick fuzzy material, dirty at the front
and frayed at the cuffs. Her blond hair had grown out unevenly and she hadn’t yet
combed it for the day. She stood in the doorway staring at him.
You, she said. What are you doing here? Didn’t you do enough already?
I wanted to talk to you, he said.
How’d you find me?
You’re in the phone book.
Oh. Well, I don’t have a phone no more. They shut it off. I can’t afford it. What
do you want?
I come to see how you are.
I’m here, look at me. Can’t you see? What’d you think would happen?
Dad looked at her and looked away. He said, I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry it
turned out this way.
You’re sorry.
I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.
Jesus Christ, she said.
Can I talk to you a minute?
What do you want to talk about? You want to take me up on my offer? Is that it? You
changed your mind?
Your offer. What offer?
To let you fuck me. Pay off what he stole.
What? No. For hell’s sake. That’s not what I come for.
Well, I can’t blame you. She pulled the robe tighter. The way I look now.
It’s not that. Is that what you think? It’s not about that. I come to help you if
I can. Can I talk to you?
You just want to talk.
That’s right.
You mean you want to come in.
Yes, so we can talk a little.
Come in then. It’s a mess. But I’m not going to apologize to you. Why should I?
He followed her back through the dark living room, past the two children sprawled
on the floor like some kind of little animals in front of the television, watching
some animated movie.
Come out here, she said.
In the kitchen she removed dirty dishes from the table and put them into the sink
which was already full of dirty dishes, and swiped at the table with a washrag. Sit
down, she said. Don’t be so polite. You don’t have to wait for me.
He sat down. She dropped the washrag in the sink and sat across from him and lit a
cigarette. He looked at her and watched her smoke. Then he removed the wallet from
his back pocket and took out all the bills and stacked them on the table. He had five
hundred dollars to give her. She stared at him.
What’s
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