Roadside Bodhisattva (21 page)

Every night I counted my money and thought about just striking out on my own. But every night I decided to wait another day, and see if maybe Sid wasn’t getting a little itchy like me, and wouldn’t be the first one to say, “Let’s split.” But it never happened, and finally one day I had had it, and decided to confront him.

Sid was messing with his flowers again, putting fresh ones in the ground all around the diner, to replace the ones that had stopped blooming. I went right up to him where he was kneeling, with a trowel in his hand, and said, “Sid, when the hell are we getting out of here?”

He didn’t stop digging, not taking me seriously, I guess, and that got me even more pissed than his words.

“Kid, what are you talking about? Where do we have to go?”

“There’s a whole world out there, Sid. I want to see more of it than this little corner, which is not even all that interesting, believe me. You haven’t washed about three million dishes like I have, so maybe you’ve got a different view of this joint. But I’ve gotten to the bottom of the washtub, and all I’ve found there is a lot of crud.”

Still poking around with his trowel and not looking at me, Sid said, “Kid, don’t these people mean anything to you? Haven’t you made any connections with them?”

“They’re all okay. I mean, they’re fine, I like them all good enough. But I left home looking to do the kind of wild things Jack did. I didn’t set out on the road to find a substitute family. It’s like you’re my dad and Ann’s my mom. Angie and Sonny’re my uncles, Yasmine’s my aunt and Sue—well, Sue’s like my damn sister. And that’s not what I wanted.”

Sid left off digging and sat back on his heels. He looked extra sad for a moment before his face returned to a kind of neutral expression. “Listen, Kid, I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Sue the way you wanted. But her actions are her own affair. You can’t make a woman feel what she doesn’t want to feel, and you can’t make her unfeel what she does feel. As for the other stuff, I never intended to come off like your father. Maybe I’ve lectured you once too often, and I apologize for that. But on the whole, I thought I treated you like an adult, like my buddy.”

I felt like I wasn’t really explaining myself, like I was losing Sid, and I didn’t want that to happen. “You did, Sid, honest, most of the time you did. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Buddies. I want us to be buddies again, on the road like Ray and Japhy, a couple of dharma bums.”

Sid sighed. “Kid, you’re letting your books blind you to reality. I warned you about that way back when we— Oh, Jesus, there goes Daddy Sid again. But it’s just the truth. I’m not a character out of one of your books, Kid. I’m just a sorry old coot who has already logged too many miles before you ever showed up. I’ve spent more than my share of cold nights on steam grates and hot afternoons with my thumb out in the middle of Death Valley. I’ve had enough freedom to last me the rest of my life. And if I’ve picked up any wisdom on the road, I’ll be damned if it boils down to anything more than ‘be kind and watch your back.’ I might talk big, but in the end my words don’t amount to more than a sparrowfart in a hurricane. I don’t really want to be out there on the edge anymore, Kid. Now, I can understand why you feel exactly the opposite. You’re young, you’re full of piss and vinegar, you’re rarin’ to be out where things are happening, in the middle of some fight or watching some crazy shit go down or bouncing around in some strange gal’s bed. But all that’s old hat for me. What I found here at Deer Park, even if it looks boring and limited to you, means more to me than anything I had on the road. At least that’s how I feel right now. That’s why I plan on staying here a while.”

Sid’s last sentence shocked the hell out of me. I didn’t really believe he would ever say such a thing. I had kept hoping right up to this minute that maybe he’d argue for a week or a month more at Deer Park, just to rest up and save some more bucks. But instead he had totally dropped out of our whole enterprise, for no good reason that I could see. Now I was on my own.

Sid plucked a flower that had a broken stem and started twirling it between his fingers, staring at it like it held the secret of the universe. Then he looked up at me with a tired smile on his face and wide eyes that seemed to hold all the sadness in the world. But I was too angry to respond to this puppydog shit.

“Sid, I don’t understand anything except that you’re blowing me off for no good reason at all.”

Sid tossed the flower to the ground. “It’s a damn shame you feel that way, Kid. But your ignorance don’t change a thing I said.”

I gave up arguing then, left him planting his fucking flowers because I didn’t want him to see me crying.

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Six

I should have left Deer Park right then, as soon as Sid admitted he wasn’t getting back on the road with me. But I didn’t.

Things would have been a lot different if I had.

But I was still anxious about my money. I had seven-hundred and fifty dollars saved up, and thought I could get my stash up to a thousand if I stayed a week or two longer. That seemed like a good amount to carry me for a long time. Maybe I could make it to Texas, or Mexico. Maybe I’d check out Seattle. I had heard there was a cool band scene in Omaha. Maybe I’d even visit California, see if it was everything Yasmine said it was.

So after I quit crying, I went to burn up some of my anger. I swore up a storm while whacking some tall weeds with a stick on the outskirts of the Park, and then I gritted my teeth, told myself that I could hang in there for just two more paydays, ignoring Sid and doing my job. How bad could things get between him and me? He didn’t seem to be holding a grudge. And I hardly saw him anymore outside of the job. While we worked together I’d talk about nothing but the job at hand. As for the rest of the Deer Park crew, I had no beef with them, not even with Sue, who had made her choice that didn’t include me. Saying goodbye would be awkward, but I wasn’t stupid enough to announce my plans ahead of time. That would just make a long, drawn-out scene, with people trying to convince me to stay, or getting all weepy over my departure. Or so I imagined it. No, when it came time to go, I’d just split with a smile and a wave of my hand, like Jack hopping a freight. I’d have to hope Sid didn’t tip my hand in the meantime. But I hadn’t given him anything specific to work with.

So the next morning I got up, resolved to go about my day like nothing had changed.

But I didn’t count on Sonny’s accident.

I got into the diner at six, and the first thing I noticed was that the Hispanic guys were not their usual chattering selves. They seemed bummed by some bad news. Then I spotted Sid behind the grille. If Sid was cooking, the guy who thought mixing beans and ravioli together made a gourmet meal, that was bad news enough to bum out anyone.

“Where’s Sonny?”

Sid said, “Don’t know. He just never showed up. Ann’s got me here bashing out the orders.”

Ann came over, her brown-grey hair all flyaway, nervous-looking as a pigeon in the middle of a cat posse. “This is not like him. He’s never been late once. I called up his house, but Evelyn didn’t answer. Kid, I’m really worried.”

The three of us tossed a few lame ideas around for the next minute or two, then I realized something. “Hey, shouldn’t Yasmine be here by now too?”

“You’re right.”

“Maybe they ran away together,” I said.

Sid said, “Kid, you sure know how to make a primo dumb joke, but now’s not the right time.”

I got a little steamed. “You’re just jealous you weren’t quick enough to think of that line.”

Sid shook his head, then swore and turned away as he saw smoke rising up out of the toaster.

At eight O’clock, just as Ann was getting ready to call the police, Yasmine pulled up. In her front seat sat Sonny, a bandage around his head. The trunk of her car held Sonny’s mangled bicycle.

We all raced out to meet them. I had been doing Yasmine’s job, waiting tables, not stuck in the back, so I saw them first. And Sue must’ve been looking out from the cabin she was cleaning, because she raced out too.

Sonny was limping, with Yasmine helping him along with her shoulder under his armpit. But he was grinning, and so was she.

“What happened?” Ann said. “Are you okay?”

“Suh—somebody huh—hit me this muh—morning when I wuh—was buh—biking to work.”

Yasmine said, “I was driving into work a little earlier than usual. I was at the hospital all night with my mother. She’s ready to go pretty soon, the doctors think.” Yasmine quit smiling then, but managed to bring a small grin back while she went on with her story. “Halfway between the town and here, I spot what looks like a pile of old clothes in a drainage ditch. I don’t know what made me stop, really, but it turned out to be this unlucky guy. He was knocked out cold, and his bike was all chewed up. I don’t have a cell phone, you know, and no one would stop when I tried to wave them down. So I dragged him into the car somehow and headed straight back to the hospital. I called Evelyn and she came right down.”

“Nuh—nothing’s broken. Juh—just a mild cuh—concussion and some bruises.” Sonny seemed proud to have escaped anything worse, like he had made his own good luck. I was amazed to see that Yasmine seemed proud of him too, and of course of herself for pulling off the rescue.

“Would you listen to this guy? The doctors all said he should head home and rest, but he insisted he was going to go to work. Said he never missed a day yet. Nothing Evelyn or I told him could make him listen to reason, so I brought him here. We picked up his bike on the way.”

“Well, let’s get inside,” Ann said. “We can take things from there. The first order of business is to get some breakfast and coffee into both of you.”

“Oh, Christ!” Sid said. “I left stuff on the grill!”

By the time Sid cleaned up the scorched mess, Sonny had downed two cups of coffee and said, “Luh—let me take over.” He got his apron on and took over his accustomed spot, getting breakfast ready for customers as they arrived, and the damn jukebox started up. He wouldn’t even sit down to eat his own breakfast, but just picked at stuff, a forkful of hash, a corner of toast. But he served Yasmine up the fanciest plate I had ever seen him prepare. Sausage
and
bacon, pancakes
and
French toast, eggs over easy
and
scrambled, bagel
and
muffin. At first I thought she was gonna say something sharp, like “How much do you think I can eat, dummy?” But then she just smiled and said, “Thanks, Sonny, it looks great.”

For the next three days, Yasmine gave Sonny a ride to work each morning, and home again at night. Ann had gone with him after work the day of the accident to help him pick out a new bike at Wal-Mart, but he didn’t feel up to riding it quite yet.

But on the fourth morning, no Yasmine. His sister Evelyn brought Sonny to work before she headed off to her law office, and we more or less knew that Heather O’Hara had died. We learned for sure later that day, and also we learned the date for the wake and funeral, all the same day. Talking on the phone to Yasmine, Ann told her to expect us all, that we’d be closing down the diner to attend. The only customers we really had to worry about, the farmboys in the cabins, would get cold cereal and ham sandwiches and thermoses of coffee for their breakfasts.

Ann’s son Tony had owned a dark suit that fit me pretty good. Ann herself dug out a black dress and some pearls. She reminded me of some pretty jazz singer off one of Sonny’s album covers. Angie wore a checkered sports coat, blue tie and black work pants. He looked so uncomfortable, you wanted to loosen his tie and stick a wrench in his hands. Sue climbed out of her farmer pants and Docs for the first time since I knew her, and into loafers, a brown skirt and white blouse. The buttons on the blouse were almost popping off across her boobs. I thought she looked great, and I told her so, thinking that maybe I could get her to come on to me even at this late date.

“Kid, I resemble a three-scoop coffee milkshake with a giant glob of whipped cream on top. They don’t make these kind of clothes for my kind of shape. I can’t wait until this day is over.”

So much for my suave compliments.

All of us assembled out at Ann’s big car at ten that morning. Sonny and Evelyn were going to meet us at the funeral home. The only one missing was Sid. Ann sent me to the trailer to get him.

I knocked on the door. “Sid, c’mon, we’re ready to go!”

The door opened and Sid stepped out.

His suit was patterned with thin pinstripes. The lapels were a little frayed at the edges, his tie had a stain on it, and his black leather shoes were polished bright but somewhat beat-looking around the seams. He had slicked his hair back and trimmed his patchy beard.

Angie whistled, and Sue said, “Hoo-whee!” Ann said, “You look like a member of the Sopranos.”

“Naw,” Sid said, “they’re just ripoffs. I’m an authentic Corleone.”

“Where the heck did you get that outfit?” I said.

“If you had gone through my pack like I invited you to the first night we met, you would’ve seen it, Kid. Don’t you know my pack’s got more surprises than Felix’s magic bag of tricks? Anyhow, I had the whole ensemble wrapped up safe in plastic. Just took a little steam from Ann’s shower this morning to get the wrinkles out. Never know when you’ve gotta masquerade as a member of the establishment.”