All of the men in the bar had turned to the door while Sunderson was rehearsing violence and refusing to recognize the abrupt limitations of his age, the way the years drew closer daily, and the fact that Kowalski, being much younger, might very well kick his ass. Where is the considerable strength of yesteryear? Mostly gone.
He finally turned and saw Melissa at the door, impatient to be acknowledged, wearing a blonde wig and a waist-length fur jacket. The outfit didn’t work but he still felt a tingle. What’s with blonde hair and black eyebrows? It looked silly and vulgar. He beckoned her toward the side table farthest from the jukebox, which was playing a Latino lament. He had been avoiding gringo stations on the car radio in favor of the Latino, finding it remarkable how often the word corazon was used. Amanda brought him another double and a beer and Melissa a predictable white wine.
“What’s a corazon?” he asked.
“It’s the heart, stupid. I’m taking you to Spain on Xavier’s dime.”
“I couldn’t accept that.”
“Of course you could. We’d meet in Barcelona. I lived there a year when I was nineteen. Xavier keeps saying that he’s lost a lot of hard-earned money on the market. Isn’t that funny?”
“I suppose so. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Then let’s go to your place.”
“I don’t want you to know where it is. I don’t want my severed head found in the toilet bowl.”
He went on to ask her to stop at the Leader’s address and pretend she was interested in the cult. She was fascinated and agreed saying that she would try it tomorrow if he’d keep his cell on. She said she and Josefina had to move to Tucson anyway because Xavier felt that Nogales was too vulnerable a place for his sister while the drug wars raged.
“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” he said idly.
“I grew up without your pilgrims,” she laughed.
He bought a pint of whiskey from the bar and they took a ride down past the Conservancy and up Salero Canyon Road, pulling off on a two-track, behind a mesquite thicket. He was mortally disappointed when she said she had the monthlies and couldn’t screw. He felt like a teenager sucking her breasts in the car. She began to blow him and then stopped.
“Do you want my back door?” She was laughing.
“Of course.” He had paused not quite comprehending. Other than feverish incidents late in high school and in college he hadn’t had wide experience, what with his faithfulness in forty years of marriage to Diane. He felt tremulous and daring as they got out of the car and she leaned over the front seat, turning out the dome light and handing him a bottle of lotion from her purse. There was enough moon that her trim buttocks fairly glowed.
“Take it easy, kiddo.”
“I don’t think I’m going to last long.” And he didn’t mostly because a dog growled loudly behind them. He pulled out instantly and she shrieked and crawled across the seat. He scrambled in after her. Now she was laughing and he turned to see through the car window a big black dog not a dozen feet away. The dog jumped up against the car and started snarling in at Sunderson. Still laughing Melissa started the car and backed around throwing gravel as she drove out the two-track. Now the dog was chasing the car and roaring.
“It’s the ghost of my father,” she hissed. “When I was twelve he caught Xavier doing that to me and beat him nearly to death. Do you think that’s why Xavier became gay?”
“I have no idea.” Sunderson didn’t want to digest what he was hearing. There was the discordant mental image of pilgrims fucking in their funny pilgrim hats. He unscrewed the pint and took a long, choking drink.
“You shouldn’t drink so much,” she said. “I worry about your drinking.”
“I worry about your brother having me killed.”
“He won’t do that. I asked him not to. He likes to say such things. Though of course he killed my husband with his plastic hand then complained about the expense of getting a new hand.”
Sunderson had looked forward to a real bed but later when trying to sleep found he missed the sweet outdoor night air, the sounds of nocturnal creatures, and even the lumpy pad under his cheap sleeping bag. And at dawn never had bad instant coffee tasted as good, as he planned his walking. He had opened the windows wide but there was still the slight smell of cleaning fluid in the room. All in all he was glad to not be dead and that the big black dog hadn’t bitten him in the ass.
