Roadside Bodhisattva Part 3

"Now why would anyone vacate such a cushy berth?"

"Little matter of some old warrants catching up to him." She paused. "Thats not something Im gonna have to worry about with you or Kid A, is it?"

"Swear on a stack of Supreme Court Justices, Ann, the Kid and I are straight as Santas accountants."

"Well, thats a relief to know. Weve got one officious son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h cop in this county. Guy named A1 Vakharia. Once he gets wind of you guys, h.e.l.l be by to check you out."

"Far as I care, he can play computer games with my name till he goes blind. How about you, Kid A? Your nose clean?"

Standing on the low tilty wooden porch braced against the trailer, I wondered what I should say.

Had my parents reported me missing in the past five days? Would my real name pop up on this Vakharias screen as a runaway?

I couldnt know for sure, but I tended to doubt it.

My folks didnt believe in "worldly inst.i.tutions." They had gotten their heads so far into some kind of jacka.s.s mysticism that they tended to let a lot of "unimportant" things like grocery shopping and mortgage payments and laundry slide.

I knew that all Buddhists werent like this. Kerouac had been a Buddhist loner who had his act together. He loved all the solid things of the world, just like me. And a lot of other kinds of mystics were pretty sensible too. My dude Gibran had all those deep thoughts about day-to-day activities, real practical wisdom. But not my folks. They had plunged into the deep end of the cosmic pool without a life preserver. Thinking too hard about the big questions of life and death had made them kinda mushbrained.

They had once belonged to this big mainstream Buddhist temple, the guys who have the special chant to get everything you want. Nothing too weird with those guys. They were as conventional as Lutherans. But when a faction splintered off, my folks had gone along with this new self-appointed perfect-master type. That had been the beginning of the end of any regularity in my life.

That chaos had been the main reason I had booked. Not too much supervision or too many rules, but not enough. Maybe some of my old friends thought I had it made. But having parents who were useless a.s.swipes sucked. I had gotten sick of answering nasty phone calls from bill collectors, or explaining to the princ.i.p.al why my report cards were never signed. Or apologizing to the neighbors for the piles of trash half-hidden by unmown gra.s.s.

What had my folks done when they realized I had hit the road? Probably nothing. They were always bulls.h.i.tting about "individual karma" transcending every other conventional obligation. That was how they justified their own negligence. I figured maybe theyd extend their hey-its-my-life philosophy to me, let me go down my own path without interference. At other times for several nights running I had stayed away at friends houses without telling my folks in advance, and there had never been any ha.s.sle when I finally returned. If I was lucky, they wouldnt even realize I was missing.

Sid and Ann were waiting for my answer. They were both smiling, but I could tell they were a little freaky over my past. Probably because I wouldnt reveal my real name. And even that was just a stupid whim. But of course I couldnt admit that now.

"No blood on my hands, guys."

Well, maybe that wasnt the smartest, most rea.s.suring phrase I could have chosen, but it seemed to do the trick. Sid clapped me on the shoulder, and Ann led us inside the trailer.

The air inside was damp and heavy with moldy smells, like a wet bas.e.m.e.nt. Old-fashioned panelling warped away here and there from the lower part of the curving walls. Ann flicked a lightswitch, but nothing happened.

"Theres a connection to the Lodges electricity, but I guess I shut it down at the box a year ago." She cranked open some slatted windows, letting in fresh air and more light. The trailer was small, with a couple of bunks on opposite sides, a tiny sink and a dormsized fridge. A built-in table, now closed, featured a hanging drop leaf that would make its surface about as big as bathmat when you raised it. Two folding chairs tangled their legs next to the table. A high shelf held a radio that mustve been real state-of-the-art when Kerouac was young. Dust lay everywhere. Sid had to stoop a little except in the middle of the trailer.

My road partner walked over to one bunk and tested the cheap foam mattress with one big hand. "Sweet." He dumped his pack on the mattress, then motioned for me to add mine. "Well start cleaning this place now. Got a broom and a bucket and some Lestoil to loan us, Ann? Couple of rags too."

"Sure. Ill be right back."

Sid winked at me once Ann was gone. "Not bad, huh, Kid? We lucked out."

"Lucked out? Sid, this dirty hole is half the size of my room at home, and I have to share it with you."

Sids good-natured look transformed instantly to a kind of closed-tight blankness that was right on the edge of being hostile. I realized how ugly his face really was when he wasnt smiling. Those fat lips and patchy whiskers and bad skin. Too late I remembered his stupid t.i.t-for-tat rule.

"Listen, Kid, I aint holding your b.a.l.l.s to keep you here with me. You want to go, then go. I thought I engineered us a pretty good deal with a decent boss. We do a little easy, honest labor every day in return for a warm dry place to sleep, all the grub we can enjoy, and some attractive female company. And Im not talking s.e.x. s.h.i.t, sometimes on the road I wouldve wrestled a gator just to hear a womans voice say something to me besides 'Heres your change, Mister. I wasnt intending any moren you to stay here when we first spotted this place from across the highway this morning. But I seen a need in Ann for some help, and that matched a need in me for some time off from the blister trail. Now, I know that my needs aint yours. Youre a h.e.l.luva lot younger than me, with different goals and dreams and plans. I acknowledge that. Im not saying 'Sid knows best or any authoritative c.r.a.p like that. If its one thing I hate myself, its getting stepped on from above. Im just saying that so far Im happy with this setup, and intend to enjoy myself for however long I decide to stay. If youre not down with the program, then you can haul a.s.s outa here. But I dont want you hanging around with a sour puss, sniping at everything and bringing people down. You understand all that?"

I kept a tight rein on my feelings and expression. "Sure."

Sid misread my easy agreement, and got this self-satisfied look on his face. "Cool. Because miscommunication and a bad att.i.tude will screw up a good scene fastern anything."

I cut loose once he mistakenly thought everything was settled, catching him by surprise. "Oh, I understand perfectly. You want me to just shut up and not voice any opinions or judgments. You want to lead, and you want me to follow. I cant fart without asking your permission. Youre not a free spirit, youre a f.u.c.king dictator!"

Sid made a disgusted face and flung his hands up to the ceiling, whacking his knuckles on the tin roof.

"Oh, Christ, thats not what Im saying, and you know it! You dont have to keep anything bottled up, and you dont have to ask my stupid opinion about anything. And forget following my lead in anything. Lord knows Ive f.u.c.ked up often enough that my life wont serve as a model for anybody. Im just asking that you put your heart into whatever you choose to do. Stay or go, you gotta commit with an undivided heart. You cant walk the fence. Make a choice, then live it out to the best of your abilities. Dont be one of those a.s.sholes that always wants to come along for the ride, then criticizes the scenery."

Sid finished his speech and waited for me to react. I let him stew while I thought on what he had said. I wanted to stay angry at him, but I couldnt. Actually, as much as I hated to admit it, he made a lot of sense. There was no point in hanging around here if I was gonna be miserable and let everyone know about it until they got sick of my b.i.t.c.hing. I was on an adventure, I reminded myself, and when you were on an adventure you had to be ready for whatever chance brought your way, and make the best of it.

I didnt really understand why I had come around to Sids plans after meeting Sue. Something inside me had just shifted. But no matter what had made me change my mind, I had gone back to the diner and told Sid and Ann Id give their scheme a shot. So I guessed I owed them my full committment.

I laid a quote on Sid that I figured would say things better than I could on my own, in a suitably cryptic way. "And since you are a breath in G.o.ds sphere, and a leaf in G.o.ds forest, you too should rest in reason and move in pa.s.sion."

Sid looked at me weird, then got the source of the quote. He shook his head and laughed. "Jesus, not more of that Prophet c.r.a.p! Oh well, if youre willing to put up with my line of bulls.h.i.t, I guess I can put up with yours! Lets shake, roomie!"

Just as we finished shaking hands, Ann came back, lugging a mess of cleaning stuff. She smiled to see us burying any disagreements we might have been concealing from her. "Heres everything you should need to get this trailer spic-and-span. Im going to send over some sheets and hand towels in a minute. You wont need bath towels here, because youll be using the shower either at my place or in one of the unrented cabins. When youre done cleaning, come on over to the diner. I want to introduce you formally to everyone."

"Gotcha, bosslady." Sid took the cleaning supplies from Ann, and she left.

We got busy fixing up our trailer.

Sid started sweeping the floor and brushing down cobwebs. I went to fill our bucket from an outside hose. It took me both hands to carry it back. Sid had gotten all the loose dirt moved outside. He dumped half a bottle of piney disinfectant into the water. We soaked our sponges in the milky liquid and began to scrub. Sid took the upper reaches of the trailer and I did the lower. Before too long we had the whole place sparkling. Well, maybe not sparkling, but at least not grungy. The water in the bucket was now the color of the juice that leaks from garbage trucks.

Sid picked up the bucket with one hand and went to the door to ditch it. But someone knocked first.

Sid opened the door. From behind him, I saw Sue. She was smoking a cigarette and carrying an armload of bedclothes.

"Hey, Kid A. Looking good! And you must be Sid. My names Sue. Heres your sheets and blankets and towels."

Sid set down the bucket and wiped his right hand on his soggy pants. I realized my own jeans were wet from the knees down, from washing the floor on all fours. In a very dignified manner, Sid extended his hand.

"Dont mind the water wrinkles. They soften the calluses."

Sue had to shift her load to her left arm to shake. "Not a problem. I do plenty of scrubbing too. Nice to meet you. Though I guess we jumped Anns formal intro by a few minutes. You guys about ready to come over? Itll be lunch hour soon, and everyonell get too busy to talk."

"Just let me empty the slops here, and were good to go."

Sid went past Sue to dump the bucket in the high gra.s.s around the trailer, and she stepped inside to toss the sheets on a bunk.

"This place has a propane heater for the winter, but it gets pretty drafty. You two might want to add some weather-stripping before then."

I liked Sue even better on this second face-to-face. She seemed like she cared about people. I wasnt even seeing her as chubby anymore. "Well, all right, we will. If were still here by then."

"Okay, lovebirds, lets go. Lead the way Sue, and well be right behind you."

Sue set off ahead of us. I dug my elbow in Sids side.

"Whyd you have to say that?" I whispered.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was grinning like a junkie whod just stumbled on a mountain of free dope. "I call em as I see em, Kid A. And now I know what made you change your mind."

"Youre crazy. Sue has nothing to do with anything."

Sid said zero, but just kept grinning, so I couldnt even continue my end of the argument.

I didnt know how I could be getting hungry again so soon after that big breakfast, but I was. The smells inside the Deer Park Diner made my mouth water. French fries in deep fat, hamburgers on the griddle, hot dog rolls in a steamer. I could even smell the cole slaw that the wimpy little chef guy was stirring in a deep stainless steel bowl. It smelled like picnics.

Only two people were eating at the moment, a shabby old man and old woman who bent low over their food in their booth like someone might steal it from them. But the place seemed like Mission Control before a s.p.a.ce shuttle launch, gearing up for concentrated action. I looked out the window and saw a car full of hungry travelers pulling off Route 1. Ann noticed too, and hurried Sid, Sue and me inside with a sweep of her arm.

"Okay, people, I want you all to get acquainted real fast. First, our new employees. This is Sid Hartshorn and, uh, Kid A."

The waitress said, "Huh, Sid and the Kid. What are you two guys, Batman and Robin?"

Ann said, "Shut up, Yasmine. Gentlemen, this is Yasmine OHara. She will be friendly, if she knows whats good for her."

Yasmine scratched one hip right at the hem of her short uniform without any concern. She left red stripes in her white flesh. "Sure. Little Miss Sunshine."

"I see youve already met my niece, Sue Javor. Sue is staying with me for a little while until her parents get over some temporary difficulties."

Sue snorted. "Are you kidding, Aunt Ann? They solved everything when they dumped me on you!"

"Sue, you know thats not true. Anyway, Sue is indispensable around here. And she works as smart as anyone twice her age."

"Like thats so hard!"

Ann swivelled around to point out the chef. "Behind the counter is Sonny Taylor. Sonny, stop a minute to say h.e.l.lo."

Once I saw this cool dvd called Repo Man. One of the characters in it was this wacked-out, skinny, grubby mechanic in dirty coveralls who you thought was a total waster and burnout but who really in the end was the only guy that understood anything. Sonny Taylor reminded me of that guy.

"Hi. Nuh-nice to meet you both," he said, then went back to his cooking.

"Thats everyone except Angie, then."

Sid perked up. "Another specimen of the fairer s.e.x?"

Yasmine let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Hardly!"

Ann looked a little concerned. "Angie is Angelo Malatesta. Hes my mechanic, over at the garage. I asked him to be here, but he was-he said he was too busy."

Sid clapped his hands together, like someone had just told him a foot-high ice cream sundae was waiting for him next door, or maybe a chance to meet his favorite movie star. "Well, I reckon the Kid and Ill just have to go next door then and make ourselves known to Mister Malat.e.s.t.i.c.l.es."

Sue laughed hard and Yasmine tried not to. But Ann still looked troubled.

"All right. You have to meet him sometime. But keep it short. Id like you and the Kid to at least start a few ch.o.r.es today, before you break for lunch. We all eat after the majority of the customers are gone."

"Beautiful weather for mowing the lawn," said Sid. "Take off the shirt and work on your tan, right, Kid?"

"I guess."

"Ill get some gas for the mower while Im over at the garage. Thatll be my excuse for intruding on your busy greasemonkey."

Ann seemed to think this was a good idea, and brightened up.

Sid steered me out the door with an arm around my shoulder. We had to sidle around incoming customers. Sid gave them all a big smile and howdy, like he owned the joint.

We snagged a rusty gas can from the cobwebbed tool shed that held the mower, and headed for the deer park filling station. Someone was pumping gas into a minivan while the woman driver sat behind the wheel, and I figured the guy on the hose had to be this Angelo Malatesta. From this distance I couldnt make out his face real good, but the way he was standing gave me the impression he was a hardcase. Like he had a permanent chip on his shoulder or suspected everyone was always out to get him.

I got nervous about the meeting. "Youre not going to call this greasemonkey by the dumb nickname you just invented for him, are you? Ive got a bad feeling about him. Why wouldnt he come meet us?"

"Thats pretty obvious, Kid. He was the bull goose around here with three women in his harem. Sonny the chef dont hardly count as compet.i.tion. Now you and I step into the picture, and hes not Mister Rooster anymore. Or maybe hes just a mean-spirited, misanthropic son of a b.i.t.c.h. But either way, ol Sid will win him over. You just watch."

Angelo finished filling the tank as we got closer, and socketed the nozzle back in the pump. He walked around to the drivers window with a kind of swagger, took the womans money and made change out of a roll of bills from his pocket. The minivan drove off just as we got within talking distance.

Angelo was a head shorter than Sid, and not much taller than me. I guessed he was roughly Sids age. His skin was a little greasy, plus dark for a white guy, and his thin black hair was combed across a bald patch of skull. Not quite as bad a camo job as Sonnys. His eyes were shadowed by thick eyebrows and his nose must have been broken at one time or another. The thin lips of his mouth were compressed into a tight line. His body was stout and compact and packed with muscles. The extra hair on his bare arms more than made up for what was missing from his head. He wore a green work shirt with the sleeves ripped out and a pair of blue workpants pretty well spotted with oil.

Sid waved in a friendly fashion. "Mister Malatesta? Names Sid, Sid Hartshorn. This heres Kid A. We need your help."

Sid smiled in a dopey kinda way and stuck out his hand to accompany his words.

At first Angelo didnt respond. He glared at Sid, waiting for some kind of nasty verbal jab or impatient demand. But Sid just kept smiling in this brainless way, like he had nothing else to do in the world except wait for his hand to be shaken. Finally the lines of tension and anger in Angelos shoulders lessened a bit, and he accepted Sids handshake.

Later on I realized that if Sid had waltzed in like he owned the place, the way he had been acting back at the diner, or if he had tried to meet and match the mechanics swagger and hostile vibes, then the two of them wouldve probably started wailing on each other right then and there. But by looking a tad dumb and humble and asking for help, Sid had somehow defused Angelos urge to start a beef.

The two men squeezed each others hands awfully hard for about five seconds, before they broke the shake. I didnt think either of them got the better of the other.

"Call me Angie," said the mechanic in a gravelly voice.

"Sure thing."

Angie turned to shake my hand and I got ready for some hurting. But he took it easy with me, showing me just a little of the power in his grip, until I winced a bit.

"Im awfully d.a.m.n busy," said Angie. I sure didnt see with what, but didnt contradict him. "What can I do for you two?"

"Heres the story, Angie. Kid A and me were just pa.s.sing through your neighborhood this morning, on our way to who knows where, when your friendly co-worker, Miz Danielson next door, asked us to pitch in with a few ch.o.r.es around this fine establishment, over the next few days. Now, I for one am always ready to help a damsel in distress, and I fully believe that Kid A holds to the same high manly principles."

"Uh, sure."

"So, feeling kindly disposed to this cla.s.sy lady cuz of the glorious meal she had served us and desirous of earning ourselves a little ready cash, we signed on. Cant say well be staying very long-itchy feet, you know-but as long as we are here, we aim to do a good job. Now the first task on the docket is to turn this jungle around us into something resembling a lawn. For that, we need some gas."

Sid held up the gas can at eye level. Angie contemplated the container like he had never seen such a thing, or more like it held scorpions. Man, was this guy suspicious! But in the end, after chewing over Sids speech, he took the can and turned to the pump without saying anything one way or another about us now being part of the Deer Park scene.

As Angie filled the can I waited nervously, spooked that something might still set the burly guy off. But Sid showed no such concern. Humming some hokey old tune, he moved casually off to inspect the small station, with its single bay and tiny office. Alongside the building a car stood, covered with a tarp. Sid lifted a corner of the blue plastic and let out a sharp whistle.

"Angie pal, is this a fifty-nine T-bird?"

Angie screwed the cap back onto the can before he replied. "Thats what it is all right. Its mine. Im restoring it in my spare time."

Sid returned to the pump. "Sweet, sweet car. First one I ever owned, back in 'sixty-five. Well, h.e.l.l, man, you need some help with this honey, you just call on me. I doubt I got half your chops with cars, but I can weld a little. And maybe I can even show you a trick or two Big Daddy Roth taught me about saving old vinyl."