Roadside Bodhisattva (18 page)

Sonny came outside with us, like he didn’t really want the night to end. Angie and I got into the truck, but Sid stayed outside on the lawn a few seconds longer. He placed a hand on Sonny’s shoulder.

“Sherman, your dad must’ve been a helluva guy. But you know what?”

“Wha—what?”

“You are too. And if you buy and listen to just one record that your Dad never heard, you will be going someplace he never went.”

Sid got in the cab then with us, and Angie backed away.

Sonny was still standing in the yard when we joined back with the main road, two blocks away.

This was my personal measure of how good the Diner was doing, a week after the juke box got installed.

Before, I had been using about a cup or two of dishwasher detergent per day. Now I was using almost a whole box.

Incredible as it might seem to me, there were actually tons of people who liked the kind of music Sid had filled the juke with. As bogus as the gimmick was, just the simple addition of some tunes to the environment and a little advertising had lured new customers in by the dozens. Or maybe it wasn’t the music itself so much as it was a kind of eagerness to have fun somehow, somewhere, in the middle of rough times. But whatever started bringing in new customers, once they were here, Sonny’s excellent cooking was not exactly a turnoff. They kept coming back.

Mornings, people actually had to wait in line for tables and counter seats. Lunches didn’t feature lines, but every table was more or less continuously occupied. I had to really run my ass off to bus them all. But I was earning more, thanks to Yasmine’s increased tips, socking it all away for the road, except what I gave to Ann for my groceries. And at the end of each day, Yasmine handed my share over so sweetly that I wanted to do a good job to make her job easier. Even though she was all smiles with me, some little things that she let slip led me to believe that her mother was always on her mind, not doing so good healthwise as she once was.

Sid and Ann were thrilled with the extra business, of course. They had taken a risk and it had worked. The good buzz they were putting out infected Angie, who I actually saw smiling without any particular reason once or twice.

Sonny seemed more or less the same as ever, spacey and good-natured. After the first few days of increased business, Ann had given him a small raise, and he had just nodded his thank you. At first it didn’t seem like the visit Sid had engineered to his house had really succeeded in changing him, cracking open whatever shell he might be wearing. I wondered a little bit if Sid knew what he was doing all the time, and whether or not most people really needed or would benefit from the kind of radical change Sid liked to engineer. Maybe by the time most people got to be adults they were stuck with themselves as they were. How many times did anyone really turn their lives around anyhow? Most people just fell into some job or lifestyle and then ran it into the ground, all the way until they themselves were put into the ground. I had seen it with my parents. They had first gotten into the Buddhist stuff before I was even born, and just pushed deeper and deeper ever since, until they couldn’t even imagine some other way of life, even when the old one was obviously not working. That was one reason why I had taken off. I wasn’t going to dig myself a hole and then pull it in on top of myself. I was going to stay open and free as long as I could, seeing and doing a million different things.

That is, if Sid and I ever got back on the road.

But as far as Sonny went, I had to admit Sid’s intervention did pan out soon enough.

We were all stitting exhausted, having our meal with the Diner closed for the day, when Sonny said, “Suh—sid, if you were going to buh—buy a cd puh—player, wha—what kind would it be?”

Sid considered the question like it was no big deal. “Well now, all the major-name Jap brands are decent. Sony, Hitachi. I don’t think a person could really go wrong with any of those.”

A day or two later, Sonny said, “Suh—Sid, who’s a good suh—saxman these days?”

“Let’s see. You like Sonny Rollins, right? David Sanchez learned a lot from him.”

And a few days later, Sid and Sonny were debating the merits of this guy Sanchez track by track. Sonny’s stutter made the discussion too painful for me to listen to, but Sid didn’t seem to be bothered one bit.

Meanwhile I was getting nowhere fast with Sue. I had kinda put aside any hopes of getting her to dump Jayzee for me in the boyfriend department She was still acting like my buddy all right, no kisses though, but still making me supper and hanging out with me for an hour or two, kidding around and blowing smoke rings and trying to get me to listen to her hip-hop crap. But sooner or later most nights she’d take off for Lumberton without me. So I decided to do what Sid had recommended, try to figure out what kind of creative thing might turn her on and lure her away from the whole Jayzee scene. But I wasn’t making much progress.

“So, uh, Sue, you like nice clothes, right?”

She looked at me like I had two or three heads. “Kid, are your eyes functional, or just painted on? Look at me! I’m built like a truck, and I haven’t worn anything except farmer pants since you’ve known me. Do I look like some size-two mallrat with the tiny skirt and belly shirt and platform shoes?”

“Well, no, but I just thought most girls liked fancy clothes.”

“I am not most girls, Kid, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Another time when Sue was sliding some microwaved pizza in front of me, I said, “You really like to cook, don’t you, Sue?”

She made that face again. “You call nuking this freezer stuff cooking? Macaroni and cheese out of a box is the most complicated thing I make, Kid. And that’s fine by me. I doubt if I could even do as much at the stove as Sonny does. And diner food is not exactly the height of sophistication.”

A third time, desperate, I said, “Let’s hear that Eve cd again, Sue.” When the lameass rhyming had stopped, I said, “Not bad. But I bet you could do better.”

Sue practically choked on her glass of Dew. “What?”

“I’m just saying you could be a rapper too. You’re sharp, you know the music.”

“Right. I’ll call myself Vanilla Spice. Or maybe Toofat Ass-shaker.” She slapped me with the heel of her hand on the side of my head, and it really stung. “What the fuck are you using for brains lately?”

After that I was ready to give up trying to figure out Sue’s secret desires. This whole relating deeply thing with females was proving a big pain in the ass. Hell, I was having a better time talking and joking with Yasmine. There was no pressure there.

With Sue and me going nowhere fast, I was losing some of my emotional investment in Deer Park. Sid and I had been here for close to a month now, and the scene was getting old. I liked the people okay, sure, and felt proud that the place was doing so good, thanks to our help. But I didn’t own Deer Park and it didn’t own me. I had plans and a future that weren’t necessarily connected to this place, and I was getting tired of putting everything on hold.

I tried to cheer myself up by leafing through the pages of
Dharma Bums
, where I’d find Jack in similar fixes, trying to remind himself about keeping his perspective. “Everything is possible. I am God, I am Buddha, I am imperfect Ray Smith, all at the same time, I am empty space, I am all things. I have all the time in the world from life to life to do what is to do, to do what is done, to do the timeless doing, infinitely perfect within, why cry, why worry, perfect like mind essence and the minds of banana peels.”

Jack’s words seemed not to pack the same punch they once did. My head felt too confused to appreciate them the way I once had. I started feeling down about everything.

But then I got lucky. I guess.

I came into the apartment behind the rental office earlier than usual one afternoon. Sid had suddenly called it quits on our current job, which was weather-stripping the cabins in preparation for the cold weather still months away. Out of the blue, he had gotten some kind of inspiration he wanted to discuss with Ann. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but I really didn’t care.

Sue was sitting at the side of the kitchen table farthest away from the door, hunched over a wirebound notebook and drawing something.

“Hey, Sue, whatcha doing?”

She jumped a little and slapped the cover closed on her drawings. “Nothing. Just messing around.”

I guess my face showed that I was hurt. Sue and I had shared a lot of talk about a lot of stuff, and I figured that had made us close, even if none of it had led to hooking up. And now she was shutting me out of something that must be special to her.

“Oh, Jesus, you look like you’re gonna cry. What a baby. Here, look all you want.”

She spun the notebook around to face me and flipped it open.

The pages were full of pen drawings, sketches of geometric designs, all interlaced curlicues and swoops and arcs, thick and thin.

“These are cool,” I said, turning the pages. “What are they?”

Sue snagged the notebook back from me. “You dumbass, they’re designs for tattoos. It’s called a flash book, like they have in the studios, showing all the different ink you can get.”

“Did you invent all these?”

“Yeah.” Sue sounded proud, and I knew I had hit on something that meant a lot to her.

“Do you have any tattoos?” I said.

Sue laughed. “Are you gonna ask to see them if I say yes?”

I guessed I was blushing. “No, seriously, do you?”

“No. My parents would never let me get one back home, and you gotta be eighteen in this state to get ink. But I’d like to have this one done.” She thumbed through the pages until she found her favorite. The design was roughly diamond-shaped, a maze of overlapping squares and rectangles. “Wouldn’t this look bitchin’ right above my butt?”

“Um—I—yeah.”

“How about you? You interested?”

“I can’t say I ever really thought about getting one. Does it hurt?”

“Some.”

“Well, maybe a small one then.”

“Wuss! The Kid’s a wuss!”

“Whatever,” I said, and closed the notebook.

That night in the trailer, I felt better enough about me and Sue to ask Sid how his latest brainstorm had gone down with Ann.

“Not half bad. She thinks I found a business angle she never considered before. But I won’t know if it’s practical until I make a trip into Lumberton. So I probably shouldn’t waste your time yakking about it till then.”

“Fine. Say, Sid, listen to this.” I told him about Sue and her flash book.

Sid whooped. “Kid, you might’ve just hit on a way to break through little Miss Javor’s indifference here. Let me think about the best way to utilize this primo insight.”

Two nights later I went looking for Sue like usual, so we could have supper together. But she was gone.

With Sid.

I tromped around the grounds of Deer Park, letting off steam by whacking trees and shrubs with a stick. Where had they gone? Why hadn’t they taken me? What were they doing? I started off down Route 1 on foot, got a few hundred yards, then turned around. How was I supposed to find them? The only two places I knew in town were Jayzee’s crib and Sonny’s house, and I doubted they were at either place.

Eventually I wound up in the trailer, stretched out on my bunk still dressed. I swore I’d stay awake until Sid got in, then drag some answers out of him. But I had worked pretty hard that day, and around midnight I fell asleep.

I never heard Sid come in, and by the time sunlight woke me up he wasn’t there, if he had ever come in at all.

I went looking for him and Sue, and found them in the Diner, having breakfast while Sonny, Ann and Yasmine worked the early crowd. The stupid jukebox was playing already, lots of idiot horns and fancy drums and sensitive piano tinklings.

I took a seat at the counter next to Sid. “So, have a good time last night?”

“I’ll let the young lady answer that,” Sid said with a smile, like he had nothing to hide.

Sue leaned around Sid to put a hand on my shoulder. “Kid, don’t be mad, but we couldn’t bring you. Sid had a helluva time convincing the guy that I was eighteen, and you just don’t look old enough to fake it.”

I tried to keep my voice icy, when I really felt like yelling. “So you went to some club or bar then?”

“What are you talking about? We went to a tattoo place! The Electric Needleworks! I got my ink done! And Sid convinced the guy to keep my flash book and study it. His name’s Bruno. He might buy some designs from me. And he even invited me to hang out there and maybe learn how to do what he does!”

Ann came over, holding a coffee pot. “I gave her my permission, Kid. I’m sorry nobody thought to mention it to you.”

Sid looked at me all eager and sincere. “Trust me, Kid, you woulda been bored outta your head. All Sue and Bruno could talk about was tats, tats, tats. It was nothing like the kinda deep conversations you and I have.”

I didn’t say anything, because all I could think about was Sue’s naked butt under the needle and Sid watching every minute of the job.

Later that afternoon, Sid and I were working alone together on the weather-stripping job, not talking. I was still pissed, but didn’t know how to bring up my anger. Everybody was acting so adult about the whole affair, like there were no controversial angles, that I felt like a baby for being upset about any part of it. But still, when you came right down to it, what Sid had done with Ann’s consent was to have a good time without me, to take my girlfriend, if she was my girlfriend, and enable her to do the one thing she most wanted to do, all without me being there to share the experience. And I was the one who had discovered Sue’s secret! Where was the justice in all that?