their nighttime baths and tuck them into bed, then read Justin a chapter from
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
and after that go into his room with his wife and pretend he just had a hard day at work and needed to stop off for a couple drinks. It would be easy. He could fix this. He could beat this. Except he couldn’t figure out what
this
was. With his fingers he probed the bottom rim of his rib cage, trying to isolate the spot where maybe a tumor was growing. He pictured it—a gray smudge attached to his stomach, coiling its roots around his intestines, squeezing at the arteries around his heart like a closing fist. He felt its grip and thought I have to talk to somebody. I have to figure out some way to get back to normal, back to taking care of Stella and the boys and watering the lawn, pulling weeds from the cracks in the sidewalk. He needed someone to help him figure himself out. A good listener. Who can I call?
It suddenly seemed simple. He’d looked up Vinnie’s number in the directory at work earlier. He could just call him and ask if they could meet somewhere for a drink. Surely Vinnie could help him make some sense of the flurry of sensations he felt pressing against his head and chest so badly it made him want to gouge his fingers into his temples and dig around until he found whatever was scratching the walls of his skull.
He pulled his car beside a payphone in a 7-Eleven parking lot and grabbed the receiver with a trembling hand. Twice he dropped his quarter on the ground and had to reach down to retrieve it. He finally managed to get the quarter in the slot and dial Vinnie.
The phone rang four times and he was about to hang up when Vinnie answered, sounding sleepy.
Hey, Vinnie. It’s Manny. He was so glad he’d actually picked up. To hear him on the other end. The deep controlled voice, so sure of itself.
How’d you get my number?
Remember you said you were up for hanging out sometime? The first time they officially talked Manny had managed to get him to agree to a second meeting. He owes me.
I did? Yes, Yes. What night do you want to get together, Captain?
Tonight. I mean now. Can you meet me?
Sure. I mean, I guess I can. Is everything okay?
Fine, Vinnie. Fine. Everything’s much better.
Um … the Tap Room? Is that okay, Captain?
Sounds good.
Okay, Captain, I’ll be there in about a half hour.
In his excitement, he hung up the phone too fast to ask for directions, but then he remembered the Tap Room was on Pantano Road, where the wash ran beside Q Mart.
When he reached the Tap Room, he parked and got out to try to sober up in the brisk desert night air while he waited for Vinnie. He sat on the hood of his car, then eased his way back to lay his head on the cool windshield, enjoying the warmth of the hood beneath him and the wind cooling his skin.
It was during this period of waiting, while he listened to the clicks of his engine cooling down, that Manny began to wonder for the first time since his early years where the washes of Tucson led. Like all the other people in the city, Manny knew washes were dangerous during monsoon season. He didn’t remember ever being told, just remembered that one day he was acutely aware of how dangerous the hardpan gutters that ran all over the city were. He’d seen plenty of news clips on TV where people were trapped in a wash during a flood, but the camerasnever showed where the water went. Did the desert simply suck the water up as soon as it fell, or did it eventually drain into a secret underground river?
From the cockpit of an F-15 the washes looked like wrinkles in the desert’s skin. But when they were this close, they looked like ancient sewers, a drainage system designed to carry away the filth of the city when the rains came and scoured Tucson’s streets. Now that he thought about it, Manny realized it hadn’t rained in some time. But when it did, he wanted to be there to see where the washes would end.
Stella put the babies to
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
and after that go into his room with his wife and pretend he just had a hard day at work and needed to stop off for a couple drinks. It would be easy. He could fix this. He could beat this. Except he couldn’t figure out what
this
was. With his fingers he probed the bottom rim of his rib cage, trying to isolate the spot where maybe a tumor was growing. He pictured it—a gray smudge attached to his stomach, coiling its roots around his intestines, squeezing at the arteries around his heart like a closing fist. He felt its grip and thought I have to talk to somebody. I have to figure out some way to get back to normal, back to taking care of Stella and the boys and watering the lawn, pulling weeds from the cracks in the sidewalk. He needed someone to help him figure himself out. A good listener. Who can I call?
It suddenly seemed simple. He’d looked up Vinnie’s number in the directory at work earlier. He could just call him and ask if they could meet somewhere for a drink. Surely Vinnie could help him make some sense of the flurry of sensations he felt pressing against his head and chest so badly it made him want to gouge his fingers into his temples and dig around until he found whatever was scratching the walls of his skull.
He pulled his car beside a payphone in a 7-Eleven parking lot and grabbed the receiver with a trembling hand. Twice he dropped his quarter on the ground and had to reach down to retrieve it. He finally managed to get the quarter in the slot and dial Vinnie.
The phone rang four times and he was about to hang up when Vinnie answered, sounding sleepy.
Hey, Vinnie. It’s Manny. He was so glad he’d actually picked up. To hear him on the other end. The deep controlled voice, so sure of itself.
How’d you get my number?
Remember you said you were up for hanging out sometime? The first time they officially talked Manny had managed to get him to agree to a second meeting. He owes me.
I did? Yes, Yes. What night do you want to get together, Captain?
Tonight. I mean now. Can you meet me?
Sure. I mean, I guess I can. Is everything okay?
Fine, Vinnie. Fine. Everything’s much better.
Um … the Tap Room? Is that okay, Captain?
Sounds good.
Okay, Captain, I’ll be there in about a half hour.
In his excitement, he hung up the phone too fast to ask for directions, but then he remembered the Tap Room was on Pantano Road, where the wash ran beside Q Mart.
When he reached the Tap Room, he parked and got out to try to sober up in the brisk desert night air while he waited for Vinnie. He sat on the hood of his car, then eased his way back to lay his head on the cool windshield, enjoying the warmth of the hood beneath him and the wind cooling his skin.
It was during this period of waiting, while he listened to the clicks of his engine cooling down, that Manny began to wonder for the first time since his early years where the washes of Tucson led. Like all the other people in the city, Manny knew washes were dangerous during monsoon season. He didn’t remember ever being told, just remembered that one day he was acutely aware of how dangerous the hardpan gutters that ran all over the city were. He’d seen plenty of news clips on TV where people were trapped in a wash during a flood, but the camerasnever showed where the water went. Did the desert simply suck the water up as soon as it fell, or did it eventually drain into a secret underground river?
From the cockpit of an F-15 the washes looked like wrinkles in the desert’s skin. But when they were this close, they looked like ancient sewers, a drainage system designed to carry away the filth of the city when the rains came and scoured Tucson’s streets. Now that he thought about it, Manny realized it hadn’t rained in some time. But when it did, he wanted to be there to see where the washes would end.
Stella put the babies to
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