Authors: Diane Munier
Darnay Road (12 page)
Darnay
Road 25
I
can barely keep up with Easy even when he goes slow. Plus I’m careful so I
don’t throw Little Bit out of the basket. I never know what I’m doing with Easy
around, but I barely stop looking at him.
We
ride away from Moe’s toward Bloody Heart. I can only go this far with permission.
Right now I just have the permission I’m giving myself.
He
slows down and I catch up, then he goes in the street so I can ride on the
sidewalk and unless there’s a parked car, we’re not separated by much.
“You
lost the cast,” he says.
Well
I don’t say anything like, ‘you lost your dad.’ Well I can’t talk about that.
“What
do you do on your birthday?” he says.
Well
this I know something about maybe. “What do you usually do?”
“Nothing,”
he says.
“Not
anything at all?”
I
have to slow down for a raised crack in the sidewalk so he gets ahead again,
but he slows it down, so much he’s turning his front tire left and right.
I
figure I shouldn’t have said anything about him doing nothing for his birthday.
I think of his house and I know there’s never been a party in there. And I
think of the cake I held at Miss Little’s. It was embarrassing how it was. I
know his face now, when he’s hateful.
We’re just riding again. I pick up good speed.
“We
should take the alley,” he says.
I
stay out of the alleys. There are bad people in those sometimes, men who want
to show their things. Granma and I used to take the alleys for a shortcut then
it happened one time and Granma told me to close my eyes but I just looked down
and Granma yelled, “You dirty old thing,” at him. But we never took the alleys
again.
But
now I’m turning into the alley with Easy.
“You
eat cake,” I say, about out of breath. Surely he remembers how I brought that
to Miss Little’s.
“What?”
he says.
“Cake.
For your birthday.” I lose one of my thongs then. I hate that. It’s so
embarrassing.
He
notices I’m gone and he skids to a stop and comes back. “I’ll get it.” He goes
back and gets my pink thong and hands it to me. I drop it near my foot and work
my toes in there.
He’s
smiling and shaking his head. “Cake,” he says.
I
hate the word ‘dreamy.’ But he’s dreamy in the eyes. I wonder if he sees it
when he looks in the mirror. But Granma says I’m like Natalie Wood and I look
in the mirror and I don’t see it.
“I
got a quarter,” I say. I’m thinking of the little store near Bloody Heart.
“What’s
that mean,” he says.
“We
could get a pack of Hostess cupcakes and an orange drink.”
He
just looks at me.
“Or
a milk if you want,” I say. I just feel dumb saying, ‘milk’ to Easy.
He
smiles. “Where’s this?”
“Little
store by school.”
“Who’s
that?” he points at Little Bit.
“Little
Bit,” I say.
“Little
this, little that,” he says. “Lead the way little girl.”
And
I do, but I feel like he’s watching and I’m showing off a little, flicking my
braids over my shoulders like I don’t give a care.
We
get to Hoagy’s shop and we pull up there and I am getting off and lowering my
kick-stand and he says, “Go on over to the school and I’ll catch up.”
“What?”
I say. That doesn’t make sense.
“Go
on,” he says.
Well
I don’t want to do that, but he’ll need my quarter. “Here,” I say digging in
the pocket of my cut-offs.
“Keep
it,” he says. Oh. He’s got money I guess.
“Orange
drink or milk?” he says.
“Well
orange drink I guess.”
“Go
on,” he says. “I’ll catch you there.”
Why’s
he so particular about getting rid of me? Is this a joke maybe where he’ll run
off and leave me? I’m taking off then, kind of slow. I don’t want to be made a
fool.
He
watches for me to go, and I’m kind of mad, but I push off and head for the
school. It’s barely half a block away and it’s fronted by a really busy avenue
with six lanes. But I don’t go that far. I go in the school lot from the back
way, a quiet slice of street. It’s here where it hits me—Abigail May. I look at
the building and that top floor. I suppose if I’m going to see Sister Sponza’s
ghost it wouldn’t be so bad if Easy was with me.
That’s
if he’s really coming. I get off my bike and walk it along the building. Little
Bit wants me to hold her now, so I lean the bike against the stairs and hold
Little Bit so her nose touches mine. “How you doin’?” I say. I always say that
to her and her little skinny tail whips around.
Easy
about scares me to death when he pulls up. He rolls two cartons of orange drink
and a wee bit smashed package of chocolate cupcakes out of the front of his
dirty shirt.
There’s no bag. No
small white receipt.
“Why
is it in your shirt?” I say because it just doesn’t hit me until I ask that
stupidest question. “Did you steal this?”
“They
won’t miss it,” he says, waiting for me to take the carton of orange drink like
I don’t have a care in the world.
“No
thank you,” I say. I am so disappointed to know he’s a thief. Too.
“What’s
the matter? You look thirsty,” he says, shaking that cool sounding drink.
“I
don’t steal,” I say. I just don’t.
“You
didn’t steal it, I did,” he reasons just as friendly as the devil must.
It
would hurt my Granma too much if I drank that. I’ve been bad, I know, but thou
shall not steal and my very church is sitting right there in front of me like a
big old ship run aground. I might do some venial sins, but the mortal ones I
generally stay away from.
“Did
Mr. Hoagy see you?” I ask looking over where the rectory empties into the
schoolyard we stand in.
“Nah,”
he says, putting one carton under his arm and opening the other, leaning back
his head and drinking it down in a few interesting swallows.
Then
he opens the cupcakes and tries to hand me one.
“No
thanks.”
“For
my birthday?” he says.
“I
can’t. You didn’t pay.”
His
face falls a little. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t he know I don’t steal?
Easy
is pretty broken inside. He’s mystery all right. I know it’s been bad for him,
and I got questions no one should have. But my Granma says they went through
the whole depression and they did not steal. They would not. She said the girls
wouldn’t. She was never so sure about the boys. I know it’s harder for boys to
be good. It just is.
I
think it’s real hard for Easy to be good. He’s just wayward.
“Not
even for my birthday?” he says.
“Is
Mr. Hoagy going to arrest you?” I say.
“That
old buzzard didn’t see,” he says eating half that first cupcake with one bite.
I
am so thirsty. But I’m not going to hell for it.
“Sure
you don’t want any?” he says shaking the second carton.
I
swallow and it makes noise. “I’m sure.”
He
eats the rest of everything. “Where’d you get the dog?” he finally says.
“Um…my
dad.”
“You
got one?” he says.
We
are leaning against the building.
“Doesn’t
everybody have one?” I say, almost as clever as Abigail May would be. But I’m watching
his eyes because we’re on that subject.
He
wads up the trash in his big strong hands and drops it in the stairwell near
our feet.
“Every
Litter Bit Hurts,” I say going for that trash in that icky well.
“What
are you going to do with it?” he says.
“Take
it to a trashcan,” I say fumbling around trying to hold my dog and get the
trash that leaks a line of orange drink on my hand.
“Let
me hold that dog,” he says.
I
straighten up still holding Little Bit. “She just likes me.”
“Then
give me the trash, girl.”
“There’s
a can in the school,” I say.
He
takes a few steps back and looks up. “Think it’s locked?”
“Would
that…stop you?” I ask.
He
grins at me. I am so happy to be grinned at by him.
“Come
on,” I say, Little Bit in my school it’s just so funny. But Easy will go
anywhere I say. He goes in my old third grade room and dumps his trash in the
can next to Sister’s desk.
“I
sat there,” I say. “When I was little.”
“Little,”
he repeats looking around like he’s never seen a school before. “It costs a lot
of money to go here,” he says.
It
does? “That’s news to me,” I say.
He
laughs but he’s not loud. He knows how to move like a spy. So we go up, and up,
to the third floor.
“Why
they always smell like this?” he says softly.
I
never know why that is. But it might be knowledge that smells.
So
we get to the top and no one is around. We stand there and right away it’s so
different. One big room and the card table still set up where they take the
money for the haunted house in the spring.
There’s
the big stage and the purple curtains.
“Hey
come on,” he says.
“Easy,”
I call, taking soft steps behind him.
“What?”
he says turning toward me.
“It’s,”
I swallow again cause I’m so dry and when he looks at you, it’s just…you feel
it, “it’s haunted up here.”
“Good.
Let’s go find Casper.”
He
makes me laugh so hard I bend over some. He seems pleased with himself and he
comes back for me, puts his arm around me and I straighten some and look at
him. That’s when it happens. I know he does bad things, but he’s good too.
Maybe
I love him for real.
So
we look all around and it’s not long we take turns on the stage. He’s finally
holding Little Bit, and she licks his face and he’s so kind with her. He can
hold her in one hand. She sits there so polite and he’s so strong it’s like
she’s a feather. He just loves Little Bit. You can’t help it.
So
I do three cartwheels across the stage for my act. He is sitting on the stage
holding Little Bit.
“Where’d
you learn to do that?” he says.
“Abigail
May,” I say. Well she taught me.
“You’re
like a fairy. Like Tinkerbell,” he says.
So
I go to him and I’m puffing a little and he hands me Little Bit and gets on his
feet, and right off he gets on his hands and walks about ten steps on his
hands, and his shirt works its way down, and there’s his whole stomach. Like
Moondoggie. But he don’t even care, the tail of his shirt tickling his chin.
He’s watching me and I just don’t know what to do. He’s very strong. So he
pushes off his hands and leaps onto his feet and he’s pulling down his shirt
and looking at me.
