Chapter 14

“What’s the name of the town we’re headed for?” Gabe asked.

“Marrizozo,” Elizabeth replied, spelling it for him.

Gabe punched the name into his GPS on the dash.

“Says eleven hundred and twenty-two miles. Since we got a late start, I figure it’ll take three days out and another two back. How long you planning on staying in this Marrizozo?”

“I don’t know. A day maybe.”

“So let’s say six days.”

“That means I’ll owe you six hundred. I don’t have that kind of cash on me though,” Elizabeth confessed. “I could stop at an ATM.”

“You worry too much. I know you’re good for it.”

“First thing, though, we have to stop in West Memphis.”

“Why?”

“It’s one of the places where my son stopped.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re following his trail. That may slow us down a bit.”

“I’ll pay you for your time.”

By late afternoon they reached the Mississippi River, crossing it by way of a long, rusting metal bridge. Far below, the river slithered and undulated like a massive brown snake, its back writhing as it slid south under I-40. The heavy rains from two days before had swollen the river over its banks, and it carried a vast array of flotsam in its churning waters. Even from this far above, Elizabeth could see road signs and boards, fence posts, a blue tarp-like thing flapping up and down like a manta ray, part of a building’s roof, the side of some unnameable animal bloated beyond recognition.

As she glanced over at Gabe, she happened to see the gold wedding band on his finger glimmer in the sunlight.

“So what happened with you and your wife?” she asked.

“She left for greener pastures?”

“With the proctologist?”

“Ah huh.”

“You still miss her?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you have pictures of her all around your place.”

“Don’t you think Picasso saved pictures of Marie-Thérèse even after they split up?” he said with a boyish grin.

“And you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

He glanced at his hand. “I can’t get it off,” he said, straight-faced. “My fingers tend to swell up ’cause of all the work I do with my hands.”

“You’re a bad liar. You still care for her, don’t you?”

“Is this your cross-examination mode?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get nosy.”

“By the way, West Memphis is just on the other side of this bridge.”

Elizabeth grabbed her notebook.

“We’re looking for a restaurant called Lil’ Sonny’s.”

She gave him the address and he entered it into the GPS.

“What do you hope to find there?”

“He spent a hundred and twelve dollars for lunch.”

“Jesus,” Gabe said, frowning. “He must’ve had a good appetite.”

Right after they crossed the Mississippi, Gabe pulled off the highway and drove through a run-down section of the city. Every third store seemed closed, the windows boarded up, or with “for rent” signs in them. However, the pawn shops and bail bondsmen seemed to be doing a brisk business. Men, mostly African-American, hung out on the corners, drinking from bottles in paper bags. In one entryway Elizabeth spotted a man curled up, sleeping or dead, she couldn’t tell.

“What was your son doing in this sort of place?” Gabe asked.

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth replied. But the question raised a red flag. What was Luke doing here, she wondered.

“There it is,” Elizabeth said.

Lil’ Sonny’s, a rib joint, was in what appeared to be a converted gas station, with a large awning out front and an island where the pumps had once been. They got out and headed inside. Behind the grill was an obese black man wearing a filthy apron and a baseball cap that said “Razorbacks.”

The waitress who seated them was a young black woman with cornrows. She led them into what had once been one of the bays of the garage, which still smelled vaguely of grease and where a dozen picnic tables were set up. They sat in the front, near a garage door that presumably pulled up during good weather so people could feel like they were eating outside. It was so bright Elizabeth had to squint to read the menu.

“Y’all be wanting something to drink?” the waitress asked.

“A Jack and Coke for me,” Gabe said.

“Just water,” added Elizabeth, holding her hand over her eyes.

“Here,” Gabe said, offering her his hat. She hesitated, as much because it was so filthy as because she didn’t want to deprive him of his hat. “Go on, take it. I don’t need it.”

She put the hat on, adjusted the Velcro closure in back.

In a few minutes the waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders. Gabe got the whole fried fish so Elizabeth decided to order that as well.

“You could bring me another Jack and Coke when you have a sec, sweetheart,” Gabe said, smiling at her in a flirty sort of way.

He followed her swaying rear end as she walked away.

“She’s young enough to be your daughter, for heaven’s sake.”

She’d said it as a joke but her comment seemed to sting Gabe. Frowning, he stared at Elizabeth for a moment. “What do you care?”

“I’m just making conversation.”

Their meal came on red plastic trays, the sort they have in a grammar school lunchroom. Elizabeth had an entire fish placed in front of her. The thing was so big it covered the whole plate, with its tail hanging off one end, its head the other. It was deep fried, with the scales and fins and even the eyes still intact. Elizabeth cringed as she looked at the one glazed-over eye staring up at her.

“Don’t mind how it looks,” Gabe said. “Just dig in.”

She didn’t know how to start so he showed her, pulling the flesh off the fish with his fingers and dipping it into a tart lemony sauce on his tray.

“Damn, that’s good,” he said. “Go ahead and try it. But watch the bones.”

To her surprise, she found the fish utterly delicious. Crisp on the outside, the flesh tender and sweet on the inside, with a hint of coriander and ginger. The meat fell right off the bones.

“Wow. It is good,” she said.

“Your son knew where to eat. You just got to learn how to try new things, Elizabeth.” He looked across at her. “Like what you’re doing now.”

“Eating fried fish?”

“I meant this trip of yours. Saying to hell with everybody. Throwing caution to the wind,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Throwing caution to the wind.”

“Well, aren’t you?” He sucked the grease off his fingers, slowly, one finger at a time. “It’s just that you seem to me like somebody who’s normally pretty cautious.”

“Really?” she said, not sure she liked being called that.

“Somebody who always likes to play it safe. Keeps her cards close to the vest. Am I wrong?”

“You hardly know me,” she said, taking a bite of her fish.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character. Mind if I ask you a question, Elizabeth?” he said.

“No,” she replied, though she was already feeling a little apprehensive of what he might ask.

“Do you . . .” but he paused, reaching into his mouth and extracting a sliver of bone. He dropped it on his plate. “I told you, you gotta watch out for bones.”

“Do I what?” she asked.

“Do you love your husband?”

She stared at him, frowning. “That’s a little personal, isn’t it?”

“Just asking.”

“Of course, I love him,” she said. “We’ve been married for twenty-six years.”

The waitress happened to arrive then with Gabe’s second drink. “Thank you, sweetheart?” he said, grinning at her.

“You going to be okay to drive?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’m just thirsty is all. I didn’t ask how long you were married,” he said to her. “I asked if you loved him.”

“I’m not sure if that’s any of your business,” she replied indignantly.

“Don’t go getting all huffy on me. Remember, it was all right for you to ask if I was still in love with my wife?” he said, with a wry smile.

Finally she replied, “Yes, I love him. Why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking you don’t have a happy marriage.”

“Based on what?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I mean, we’ve had some problems. Especially since the death of our son.”

“I can imagine.”

“No, you can’t,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You can’t imagine what it’s like. It changes everything. It’s like the earth beneath you dropped away and you’re falling. Only you never hit bottom.”

“You ever cheat on your husband?”

Elizabeth almost choked on her food. She glared across the table at Gabe.

“Now what the hell would make you ask a question like that?” she exclaimed, but too quickly, with too much of a sense of indignation. It was an instinctive response, as if a doctor had struck her knee with a rubber mallet.

“It’s just that you’re a good-looking woman.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Your husband doesn’t seem to appreciate you.”

“Who said he doesn’t appreciate me? My God! I can’t believe you.”

“Him letting you come out here all by yourself.”

“I told you, he didn’t know. Besides, he doesn’t make decisions for me. We don’t have that kind of marriage.”

“I wouldn’t let any wife of mine drive cross country all by herself.”

“But you’d let her run off with another man?” By the startled expression on Gabe’s face, she could see she’d gone too far. But he’d asked for it, hadn’t he? “Listen, I’m sorry. Why don’t we drop this whole conversation?”

They ate in silence for a while. Maybe she’d asked for it, getting into his private life the way she had earlier. Still, it was one thing for her to ask if he was still in love with his ex, quite another for him to bring up whether she’d cheated or not. That was a little too much. What the hell did he know about her marriage? What she felt? The twenty-six years that had bound her and Zack together? The memories they shared. The love for a child and the devastation that followed their losing that child. But she had to admit she was disconcerted by how close his comments had come to the truth, as if with those penetrating eyes of his he could see into her heart. Was that why she was so upset? At the same time, she also had to admit something to herself—she was annoyed at Zack, as well. Annoyed that he hadn’t been another sort of man, the sort that would have appreciated her, that would have jumped in the car and sped after her as soon as he learned she’d left. The sort of man that would have kept her from seeking comfort in the arms of another to begin with. She had always blamed herself for the affair, had always assumed full responsibility for it. But was it all her fault? Didn’t Zack own some of the blame? Maybe if he’d been more passionate, if he’d loved her more, appreciated her more, she wouldn’t have had the affair. Maybe then she wouldn’t have been with Peter that night.

“Listen, I have to hit the head,” Gabe said, interrupting her thoughts.

He got up and walked toward the restrooms. While he was gone, Elizabeth now wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake in having Gabe drive her to New Mexico. She was already regretting the prospect of having to talk to him all that way, get into her life.

The waitress came over with the bill. As she took out her charge card, only then did Elizabeth remember why she’d come there in the first place.

“Oh, excuse me, miss,” Elizabeth said to the waitress. She took out her phone and showed the woman the picture of Luke. “Do you recognize him?”

She stared at the picture, then at Elizabeth.

“He’s my son. He came in here about a year ago. For lunch.”

The woman shrugged her shoulders. “Cain’t say I rec’nize him.”

“He spent over a hundred dollars for lunch. He couldn’t have eaten that much by himself.”

The young woman shrugged. “Lemme go axe Sonny. Maybe he know.”

The woman headed back toward the kitchen. While she waited, Elizabeth again wondered what her son had been doing here. A middle-class white kid from suburban Connecticut. Spending over a hundred dollars. Every possibility she could come up with only made her uneasy. In a minute the heavy-set black man behind the grill came shuffling up to her.

“LaVonda say you wantin’ to know if your son came in here?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said, handing the man her cell phone with Luke’s picture.

His hand was so huge that the phone was almost lost in the palm of it. He glanced at the photo, staring at it for a long while. Slowly, his soft brown eyes lit up with recognition. Then he smiled broadly. “I ’members him,” the man said. “He come in and bought a mess of ribs and cornbread and beans and he brought it down the street.”

“What for?”

“They’s a bunch of folk hang out down there in the park. Your boy wanted to feed ’em.”

“Feed them?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why?

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I reckon ’cuz they hungry,” he said.

“What’s the name of the park?”

“Franklin. It jess down the road a ways. Before you hit Broadway.”

When Gabe returned he said, “Sorry about before.”

“Forget it,” she replied, without looking at him. “I probably deserved it. I shouldn’t have gotten into your private life either. Let’s just try to keep things on a professional basis.”

“By the way, you find out what you came for?”

“In a way.”

Once they got in the truck, she had him drive down the street toward Broadway. When she saw the park she had him pull over and stop. It was a small inner-city park, a few benches and picnic tables, a metal swingset, a couple of basketball hoops without nets. Standing around were a handful of people, mostly black. A small group of men lounged in a circle passing around a bottle in a paper bag. An old woman sat in a wheelchair waiting for a bus. A white guy with a camo jacket and baseball cap stood out at the road with a cardboard sign that said, I used to be your neighbor.

“What’s here?” Gabe asked.

“Luke came here, too.”

Elizabeth got out and headed into the park, with Gabe following along behind. She stopped several people and showed them the photo of Luke, asked if they remembered him bringing food here. They looked at it and shrugged or shook their heads. She was about to give up when she showed Luke’s photo to an old black man with white hair, seated on one of the benches. He was holding a cigarette in one hand, a wooden cane in the other.

“He look familiar,” the man said, knitting his brows.

“He brought some food here from Lil’ Sonny’s,” Elizabeth offered, hoping to jar his memory. “You know, the barbecue place down the road.”

“Not food,” the man said. “He give me some cigarettes is what he give me. Who he anyway?”

“My son. Do you remember anything else about him?”

The man looked at the photo again, gathered his sunken mouth into a wrinkled ball.

“When I first laid eyes on him, I thought he a cop. About the only young white folks we get around here. But then he give me some cigarettes and he set a while and talked.”

“Do you remember what you talked about?”

The man wagged his head. “Been a while. But I rec’leck he say God loves me.”

“He said that?”

“Yes ma’am. And he give me a pack a cigarettes.”

“Well, thank you,” Elizabeth said.