Read Rust On the Razor Online

Authors: Mark Richard Zubro

Rust On the Razor (6 page)

BOOK: Rust On the Razor
11.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Violet Burnside. The cheerleader Scott dated his senior year.”
“She wears that outfit quite well.”
“Violet works hard on creating an impression.”
Della's Bar-b-que was on the northeast corner of the square. We entered a dimly lit room with booths down the left side, tables in the middle all set for four people, and the kitchen on the right. Almost every table was crammed with noisy revelers. Mary was greeted with friendly waves and expressions of concern for her parents. I felt eyes giving me cool appraisals. She introduced me; people smiled, but said little beyond what was required by politeness.
“Is there such a big crowd because of everybody going to the reunion?” I asked.
“It's one of the big social events of the year. Most people will go. It'll be this big bash in the high-school gym, where too many people will get drunk, and some people will have happy memories.”
“If your father is well enough for Scott to take some time away, I'd like to go to the reunion with Scott.”
She shook her head. “I don't know if this town, or any like it in the South, is ready for that yet.”
The hostess seated us in a booth near the back. I wondered if this was accidental, but then decided I was getting paranoid.
A ham hand landed on Mary's shoulder. The massive fist
of bulging flesh belonged to an overweight man, about five feet eight, in pink knit pants, a white belt, and a yellow shirt with the words “Al's Bowling Alley—Open Every Day” emblazoned across the front. His gleaming smile matched his outfit for brightness.
“Sorry about your dad,” he said. “Heard Scott's back in town.”
Mary thanked him for the sentiment and introduced me to Al Holcomb. He smiled ingratiatingly.
He did not own the local used-car dealership, as I'd suspected, but I was close. He owned an insurance agency. Al leaned over toward me and confided, “I've been to college up in Kentucky. I'm not prejudiced like these other people. Don't like it when these homosexuals parade around, but I don't mind 'em as friends. I knew one in college. A nice guy. Did a great drag show. He was real popular.” I kept myself from thanking him or hitting him.
The waitress taking our order briefly stopped his largesse. When she was gone, he switched topics to talk cheerfully and at some length about how great it was that Mr. Carpenter was fully insured.
Mary looked pained when Al started and awful as he got going. He seemed oblivious. Finally I said, “We need to eat and get back to the hospital. Perhaps later we can talk about it.”
After several glad hands and guffaws, he left.
“Who the hell was that?” I asked quietly.
“Al is the head of the local Ku Klux Klan.”
I turned to get another look at him. I felt a shiver as I saw him sitting at a table with four children under the age of twelve and a woman in a polyester outfit in different shades of pink.
“He doesn't look frightening. How do you know he's the head of the Klan?”
“We may all be too polite to mention things in public,
but we all know each other's secrets.”
I discovered eating bar-b-que meant having pork ribs smothered in a thick sauce. They were the best I'd ever eaten. When we finished dinner, we stood on the sidewalk outside Della's for a minute. Lights from store windows nudged at the night. A police car cruised past us slowly.
“Was that the sheriff?” I asked.
Mary squinted toward the car. “Couldn't tell.”
The vehicle continued north and then pulled in front of a building with three other cop cars parked in front. Two bright floodlights illumined the parking lot. The building itself was two and a half stories of dark red brick matching that of the courthouse. Across the street from where the car pulled to a halt was a squat beige brick building with barred windows on either side of the front door.
I pointed. “What is that?”
“Burr County Jail and Eyesore.”
“It looks like the kind of place where they had a lynching just last night.”
“Hasn't been one of those in decades,” she said.
I stared at the building a few minutes. Beyond it a sward of grass studded with enormous trees and soft streetlights sloped down to a small stream.
Mary said, “We better get back.”
“It's always this humid, isn't it?” I asked as we retraced our steps.
“It's usually worse. We haven't had a lot of rain this year.”
“Don't hurricanes come through here?”
She laughed. “We're too far from the coast. We get lots of rain, but we don't have to evacuate. Supposed to be a big storm coming in from the Gulf in the next twenty-four hours. Farmers are hoping.”
 
 
The hall outside the CCU was a bedlam of activity. Nathan and Shannon were near tears. Hiram talked anxiously into the phone.
“What's wrong?” Mary asked. “Is he … ?”
“We aren't sure,” Shannon said. “They called and said to get here. They said he had another attack. We don't know what's happening.”
Minutes later Scott appeared in the hallway. He addressed us all. “Daddy's heart monitor went into an arrhythmia; he had more severe chest pain. They're going to do an angioplasty to try and clear any blockages. It could kill him, but if they don't do it he'll probably die.”
“Should we move him to a bigger hospital?” Hiram asked.
“Burr County General has everything a big city hospital would have,” Nathan said.
“It's a hick town with barely enough facilities,” Shannon said.
They looked at Scott, who looked at Mary. “If he should have been moved, it's too late now,” Scott said.
“Dr. McLarty is a heart specialist,” Mary said. “They put the hospital here so it could serve several counties. This one specializes in cardiac cases. The one two counties over has all the experts on diabetes. They divided it up like that all over this part of Georgia. An Atlanta hospital might be able to specialize in a lot of these, but we've got just as up-to-date heart facilities right here. It's the best around.”
“It's pointless to fight and second-guess,” Scott said. “He's getting the best care. We'll just have to wait.”
The hours barely moved by. Fortunately I'd brought Carolyn Hart's
Dead Man's Island
as a backup to the D'Amato book. I barely looked up at the passing scene. Siblings paced; more cousins and in-laws appeared and disappeared. Scott insisted his mother lie down.
After nine Scott and I took a break outside the doors of the hospital. No traffic passed on the street. Bugs began to sample our skin. I told him about dinner and the people I'd seen and met.
“You saw old Violet?” he asked.
“Yeah. You really dated her?”
“For more than a year.”
“I believe the polite term for her appearance would be ‘voluptuous.'”
“She hasn't changed much. She was nice and smart, though. Lot of that was an act.”
“Did you … ?” I hesitated.
“Did I what?”
“You and Violet.”
I got a shot of blue-eyed amusement. “Do you really want to know?”
I shrugged. “I guess not.” Actually I did, but some things are best left unsaid (and probably unasked).
We went back upstairs for more waiting. Around eleven I walked down to the food machines in the basement.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator. It would take more time and give me a little exercise. As I strode down the silent corridor, I heard soft voices ahead, already at the machines. When I heard my name, I slowed down. I caught the middle of a conversation.
“You mean Mama said they could stay in the house?”
“That's what Scott said. I think his buddy slept in my old bed.”
“How can she let him bring that fag into the house? Somebody's going to have to talk to them.”
“Who? You're next to Scott in age.”
“But you were always closest to him. You were his pet. You're the youngest. He won't get mad at you, or if he does, he won't hit you.”
“He wouldn't hit you. Anyway, you're big enough now to fight back.”
“I wouldn't want Mama to know we were fighting at a time like this. He has hit me. Remember the time in high school?”
“You were kids, and you did leave his favorite baseball mitt at the park along with his lucky bat, and they both got stolen because of you.”
“How many times do I have to say it wasn't my fault?”
“Scott blamed you.”
“And beat the shit out of me.”
“I thought Daddy was going to beat the shit out of him.”
“He didn't, though. He always did like Scott best.”
“Will you give it a rest? We have to decide what to do about him going around town with that faggot. Did you hear what happened at the Waffle House this morning?”
“The whole county knows and half the people between here and Atlanta. I wish the sheriff could run that queer out of town. I'd beat the shit out of him myself if I wasn't afraid of Scott.”
I decided I'd heard enough. I stepped back a few paces in the hall and then walked forward making loud sounds with my feet. The voices stopped. I rounded the corner and smiled at Hiram and Nathan. Their bland faces revealed nothing about the mayhem they'd been contemplating. They said nothing as I inserted coins in the machine, punched my selection, and retrieved my RC cola. I smiled at them and left. They kept silent as I walked away.
Back upstairs, I read for a while and then began to doze when, around midnight, Scott whispered to the family who were there. “The doctor's back.”
I stood next to Scott as the family gathered in the hallway. Dr. McLarty took off his green cap and wiped his forehead. He spoke directly to Mrs. Carpenter. “The procedure
itself was a success. We've cleared as much of any blockages as we could find. We still don't know the extent of the damage that has been done. We've done what we could, but we just won't know for a while. Time will have to pass. He is breathing on his own, which is good.”
“Can we see him?” Hiram asked.
“You can sit up with him, but you can't speak with him. And only two at a time.”
“Mama?” Scott said.
“I'll go,” Mrs. Carpenter said. “You come with me, Scottie.”
The remaining brothers and sisters discussed their father until Scott and his mother returned half an hour later.
“Mama should go home,” Scott said quietly. Mrs. Carpenter looked gray and tired. She made no protest.
“I'll take her,” Mary said.
They discussed familial logistics. It was unlikely Mr. Carpenter would awaken before morning. All of them were tired, but Scott insisted he wanted to stay. I volunteered to stick with him. Hiram and Shannon began to protest at that, but Mrs. Carpenter said, “I think that's a good idea. Scott and Tom should stay. We'll all be fresher in the morning.”
“How'd your dad look?” I asked as we watched his family leave.
He shook his head.
“How are you holding up? You haven't had much sleep in the past few days.”
“I'm okay. I'm awfully glad you came with.”
We reentered his father's room. Scott sat next to the bed and held his dad's hand. I sat in a chair and read.
As the first hints of gray dawn appeared Scott said, “I want to stay here for a while. Can you go back to the house? Maybe get my shaving equipment, change of underwear? I don't want to leave.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“I want to be here if he wakes up.”
“I'll stay if you want.”
“Bring me back that stuff,” he said. “I need you now as I never have before.” We hugged. I could feel his tension as I held his shoulders.
“I'll be back as soon as I can,” I said.
“You remember the way?” Scott asked.
“As long as it's daylight, I should be okay. The turnoff from the highway is the first left after the second crumbling gas station?”
“Yeah.”
“And it's the third dirt road on the left?”
“On the right.”
No nurse was on duty as I left the CCU. I walked down the muted and empty corridors and this time took the elevator down. The hospital doors swung open automatically. I stood in the entrance for a few minutes, stretching my arms. I realized I'd left my book upstairs. I turned to go back, but then figured I'd be back in a while anyway. The air was damp and almost cool. Tendrils of fog drifted about four feet above my head. The nearly empty parking lot looked eerie: clear visibility at ground level, and then these wisps of fog, and then above them a dark sky to the west but faint grays and the first blues off to the east.
BOOK: Rust On the Razor
11.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Getting Lucky by Susan Andersen
A Dark Road by Lance, Amanda
Back to School with Betsy by Carolyn Haywood
Madrigals Magic Key to Spanish by Margarita Madrigal
Written in the Stars by Ali Harris
The Rancher Takes A Bride by Sylvia McDaniel