Mostly old school rap. Some Immortal Technique, some Rakim. A bunch of stuff I didn't know. She kept it low so as not to wake up the kid.
After a couple of hours, she turned it off.
We passed Osotouy City. Alexis woke up. None of us spoke until we were on I-40 heading toward Memphis.
As we passed a sign for a little town called Candy, I said, "My father started a church here when I was seventeen."
"Really?" Alexis asked.
I nodded.
"You a preacher's daughter?" Jack said.
"Sort of. I wasn't raised that way, but my mom got religion when I was in high school. She talked the old man into sinking every cent they had into trying to start a church. That dried up the family coffers. I couldn't pay for college without working, and pretty soon I had to quit school and work full time. Eastgate didn't require a college degree to be a CO, so I went in that direction."
"No shit?" Jack said.
"No shit. I thought I was going to be a cop." I shook my head. Just thinking about it gave me a slight headache. As we passed the exit for the town, I said, "They bought a little store front here in Candy. I think it used to be a vacuum-cleaner supply store."
"What was their church called?" Jack asked.
"The Church of the New Birth."
"Still there?"
"Nah. It never occurred to either one of them that the old man wasn't any kind of preacher. He had worked in service stations for twenty-five years … and now he was supposed to start up a church? The only stuff he'd ever read besides the Bible was
Chilton
's and hunting magazines. He'd never done any public speaking. He didn't even like to make small talk with people. But she had her vision and the old man always eventually did whatever she told him to. They sunk every dime they had into the church and trusted God to provide the rest."
"God didn't come through?" Jack asked.
"No. He must have been short on cash, too. They had to declare bankruptcy after a couple of years." In the truck's side mirror, I watched the sleeping town recede into the darkness. "In the end there was nothing left of my mother's vision except a story she hated to tell."
They were both dead now. The old man at fifty-nine of a heart attack, the old woman at sixty-two from cancer. The only saving grace of the whole sad story was that neither of them had lived to see me go to jail. They'd both died thinking that even if I wasn't born again, at least I was an upstanding member of society.
Now I wasn't even that.
I looked in the rearview mirror. Alexis was sitting up and looking right back at me, and for an instant I confused our reflections. It looked like my mouth that opened when she said, "At least you had parents."
* * *
About two-thirty in the morning, we pulled off the interstate in a tiny town called Marked Tree just outside of West Memphis. In the parking lot of a little Methodist Church, a truck was waiting.
We pulled up next to it, and Alexis's cousin got out. She was a middle-aged bruiser with tiny breasts, a big gut, and long curly blonde hair.
Alexis hugged her, and then she pushed Kaylee toward her. "Sweetie," she told the girl, "this is your cousin Tawnya. We're going to live with her for a while."
Tawnya yawned and rubbed the girl's head. "Hey, kiddo." Alexis didn't introduce us, but cousin Tawnya gave us a tired smile. Then she told Alexis, "I'll be in the truck. We need to get on the road. You can drive?"
"Sure."
Tawnya took the kid to the passenger side of the truck.
I watched the little girl. She dragged her feet, but she was awake. When she got to the truck, she looked back at me.
She waved.
It was the first time the child had acknowledged me at all. I gave her a little wave, and she got into the truck with Tawnya. I wondered how many people like me that little girl had met in her life, how many strangers, some kind and some not, who had already drifted through her chaotic life before she climbed into a truck with yet another new one.
I was thinking that when Jack asked Alexis, "Where's Tawnya
After a couple of hours, she turned it off.
We passed Osotouy City. Alexis woke up. None of us spoke until we were on I-40 heading toward Memphis.
As we passed a sign for a little town called Candy, I said, "My father started a church here when I was seventeen."
"Really?" Alexis asked.
I nodded.
"You a preacher's daughter?" Jack said.
"Sort of. I wasn't raised that way, but my mom got religion when I was in high school. She talked the old man into sinking every cent they had into trying to start a church. That dried up the family coffers. I couldn't pay for college without working, and pretty soon I had to quit school and work full time. Eastgate didn't require a college degree to be a CO, so I went in that direction."
"No shit?" Jack said.
"No shit. I thought I was going to be a cop." I shook my head. Just thinking about it gave me a slight headache. As we passed the exit for the town, I said, "They bought a little store front here in Candy. I think it used to be a vacuum-cleaner supply store."
"What was their church called?" Jack asked.
"The Church of the New Birth."
"Still there?"
"Nah. It never occurred to either one of them that the old man wasn't any kind of preacher. He had worked in service stations for twenty-five years … and now he was supposed to start up a church? The only stuff he'd ever read besides the Bible was
Chilton
's and hunting magazines. He'd never done any public speaking. He didn't even like to make small talk with people. But she had her vision and the old man always eventually did whatever she told him to. They sunk every dime they had into the church and trusted God to provide the rest."
"God didn't come through?" Jack asked.
"No. He must have been short on cash, too. They had to declare bankruptcy after a couple of years." In the truck's side mirror, I watched the sleeping town recede into the darkness. "In the end there was nothing left of my mother's vision except a story she hated to tell."
They were both dead now. The old man at fifty-nine of a heart attack, the old woman at sixty-two from cancer. The only saving grace of the whole sad story was that neither of them had lived to see me go to jail. They'd both died thinking that even if I wasn't born again, at least I was an upstanding member of society.
Now I wasn't even that.
I looked in the rearview mirror. Alexis was sitting up and looking right back at me, and for an instant I confused our reflections. It looked like my mouth that opened when she said, "At least you had parents."
* * *
About two-thirty in the morning, we pulled off the interstate in a tiny town called Marked Tree just outside of West Memphis. In the parking lot of a little Methodist Church, a truck was waiting.
We pulled up next to it, and Alexis's cousin got out. She was a middle-aged bruiser with tiny breasts, a big gut, and long curly blonde hair.
Alexis hugged her, and then she pushed Kaylee toward her. "Sweetie," she told the girl, "this is your cousin Tawnya. We're going to live with her for a while."
Tawnya yawned and rubbed the girl's head. "Hey, kiddo." Alexis didn't introduce us, but cousin Tawnya gave us a tired smile. Then she told Alexis, "I'll be in the truck. We need to get on the road. You can drive?"
"Sure."
Tawnya took the kid to the passenger side of the truck.
I watched the little girl. She dragged her feet, but she was awake. When she got to the truck, she looked back at me.
She waved.
It was the first time the child had acknowledged me at all. I gave her a little wave, and she got into the truck with Tawnya. I wondered how many people like me that little girl had met in her life, how many strangers, some kind and some not, who had already drifted through her chaotic life before she climbed into a truck with yet another new one.
I was thinking that when Jack asked Alexis, "Where's Tawnya
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