HE CAME alone and parked his car a street over. He pushed out through trees and made across the backyard of the house west of Merriam’s. There were toys tossed in the grass; a bike, plastic shovels, a bucket. All the lights in the house were shut off. In one small tree children’s shoes hung like ornaments, laces tied in the branches. There were shin-deep holes in the yard. He stumbled at one.
Wayne was there. Terry waited an hour and smoked, and ran it through in his head.
He jumped and got a hand to the top of the fence, and he held, got the other one, and pulled himself at the arms.
He came down feet and hands beside the pool, and the water was lit space blue and filled with old leaves. Everyone there stood in circles, fisted drinks and cigarettes, and smoke held past their heads in the floodlight.
He leaned against the fence for a moment and lit another cigarette. His mouth tasted like chalk. He heard voices inside the house.
He sat on the edge of the pool and put his shoes and jeans down in the neon water. He leaned back on his elbows.
Wayne’s goons got him first. They grabbed him by the back of his jacket and pulled him up, stood in a jagged circle around him. They had the voices of birds. His eyes wobbled. He stopped on Mickel Really. His lips were fat, full of stitches. Terry smiled and scratched his nose.
Wayne pushed through the goons and stood in front of him. Terry’s head butted Wayne’s chin. They stood still a few moments. Terry lit a cigarette. Wayne turned and looked over one shoulder. Merriam stood against one of the tall glass back doors just outside their circle.
She’s my girlfriend, Wayne said. I won’t let you mess with that.
Terry looked at her.
This is what you want? he said.
Merriam stayed still, arms crossed. He smiled again and spit. He took another drag and turned back to Wayne.
Go on and have your baby party then, he said.
He sniffed quick, looked at Wayne again and waited.
Wayne’s fist was warm, the punch dull at his mouth. Terry wobbled but then straightened up and touched his jaw. Wayne put a finger against his chest.
I won’t stop next time I see you, he said.
He stood dazed a few moments, shook his head until it cleared.
Wayne took Merriam by the arm and went into the house. His goons fell in a few steps behind.
His mouth beat in a throb. He touched his lips and his fingers came back red. He spit blood, tongued a loose canine on the bottom.
He worked it out with two fingers. He threw it to the deep end.
He walked alleys downtown. He cursed, spit more blood.
He went fast on the sidewalk, the block between Irby and Northridge, and his hands jammed at his pockets.
The hearse rumbled, and it idled slow beside him. The window rolled down. Louden leaned over the passenger seat. Terry spit, opened the door and got inside.
Louden pulled back into the street. He gave Terry a beer. Terry washed a few swallows around in his mouth and spit it from the window and gave the bottle back.
He did that to you? Louden said.
Terry nodded.
I’m going away, Terry said.
Where? Louden said.
Terry looked around for the water tower in the west. He found it and pointed toward it.
That way, Terry said.
Louden drove and pulled hard on a cigarette, studied houses and trees gone past.
I saw that asshole shoot a crow once with a shotgun, Louden said. He winged it, watched it twitch on the ground. He stood over it and laughed, kicked it some. Just left it there not even dead.
Could you just drop me at my house, man? Terry said.
You need to clean Wayne up some.
What?
If you’re leaving.
I am leaving.
Well then.
They waited a few houses down. The light started to come up. Louden stepped out and walked fast and his boots cracked gravel in the drive and Terry got out and it was cold and he stayed still a moment, and then he got a run and caught up. Louden kept his pace, sure and even.
They went up to the porch and knocked at the front door. Wayne’s father came out on the steps and looked them over.
What, then?
We need to talk to Wayne, Louden said.
He studied them stern and unsure.
What do you need him for?
We got business, Louden said.
What kind?
Your boy busted my friend’s mouth.
He did?
Yeah. Go and get him.
Louden pointed past his shoulder.
Go.
That’s not important.
Do you know Wayne?
Get back there and get him.
Wayne’s father crossed his arms on his chest. He looked at them some more.
You’re serious?
Damn right.
He chuckled some.
I don’t think you two and Wayne need to talk right now, he said.
Go and get him old man, Louden said.
Wayne’s father looked jarred, knocked back with those words, the stone rage in Louden’s face.
I’m not kidding a single bit, Louden said. Go. Right now.
Wayne shouldered past his father in the doorway and came onto the porch with the sleep still on his face.
What are you doing here? he said.
He blinked hard. Terry stepped up toward him.
I just wanted to talk, Terry said.
He held his hands up.
We don’t have anything to talk about, Wayne said. This was done last night.
Wayne pointed to the dirt road leading away from his house and the sun still breaking low.
Get out of here, he said.
Terry rubbed his jaw, shook his head and smirked.
Leave, he said.
Man, Terry said. You’re a fucking asshole.
I’m an asshole? he said.
Terry’s face pinched; he bore his teeth and took a step. Wayne’s father put an arm between them. Louden pulled it down. Wayne pushed Terry hard, and he fell over the steps onto his back. Wayne jumped down. His father shook from Louden and hopped down by Wayne. Louden got him at the back fast, bunched his collar and put him down a thud.
Terry felt some madness in his chest. He put a leg up and caught Wayne in the gut. He turned on his knees and got on top of him. He held his shirt at the front, and beat on his face, and then Wayne was limp, and his eyes watered, and he coughed some blood.
Louden pulled him off. They left Wayne and his father blind in the yard.
He had busted his right hand on Wayne’s face. Louden took a few scratches at both arms. Terry’s bottom lip bled. Louden shook his head in the hearse. He didn’t slow for the tracks, and the hearse jumped, and dipped hard past the hump.
Dumb fucking old man acting like that, he said. He deserved that shit. You need to know that. Doesn’t matter what anyone says.
Louden pulled away and didn’t say much. Terry went fast to his room and stuffed his knapsack. He stopped in his father’s room. Benjamin Webber was on a second week of some overtime at the plant. Terry went to the closet, reached high at the shelf and got down a shoebox. He opened it, counted four hundred dollars in twenties and tens, and then he put the box back. He put the dog in his room, left cereal and water at separate bowls, and he rubbed its head a moment, and the tail knocked fast, and the dog panted, and some spit ran from its mouth. Terry pointed to the water. He spoke to the dog.
See? he said. You need to drink that.
The dog stayed, kept beating its tail on the floor.
Dammit, Terry said. Like this.
Terry went over to the bowls and put his head down and lapped.
Terry wiped his nose in the car, hands dried blood and dirt. He drove from the neighborhood under the crooked oaks.