Laura put the heater on and the car was soon filled with the soapy scent of Ray’s aftershave. Aside from the battered face and splinted fingers, both of which looked vile, he was meticulous about his grooming. He seemed to have an endless supply of plain white T-shirts and chinos. For a man in his mid-sixties, he seemed to be in good physical shape. Meanwhile, both Laura and I were looking more bedraggled by the hour. In the close quarters of the rental car, I could see that her dark auburn hair had been dyed to that flaming shade. Her part was slowly growing out, a widening margin of gray. The strands bordering her face showed a rim of white like the narrow matting on a picture frame. I wondered if premature graying was a family trait.
The sun rose from behind a mountain of early morning clouds massed on the horizon, the sky changing swiftly from apricot to butter yellow to a mild clear blue. The land around us was flat. Looking at the map, I could see this portion of the state was part of the Mississippi flood plain, all the rivers draining east and south toward the Mississippi River. Lakes and hot springs dotted the map like rain splats, the northwest corner of the state weighted down with the Boston and the Ouachita Mountains. Laura kept her foot pressed firmly to the accelerator, maintaining a steady sixty miles an hour.
We were in Memphis at seven. I kept an eye out for a pay phone, intending to call Henry, but realized California was two hours behind. He tended to rise early, but five a.m. was really pushing it. Laura, sensing my train of thought, caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “I know you want to get home, but can’t you wait until Louisville?”
“What’s wrong with Nashville? We’ll be there by midmorning, which is perfect for me.”
“You’ll slow us down. Check the map if you don’t believe me. We’ll be coming in on 40, taking 65 North across the state line. The Nashville airport is over on the far side of town. We’ll lose an hour.” She passed the map back to me, folded over to the section she was talking about.
I checked the relative distances. “You won’t lose an hour. You’re talking twenty minutes max. I thought you didn’t want to go to Louisville, so what’s the big hurry now?”
“I never said I didn’t want to go. That’s where I live. I said that’s where Gilbert’s going. I want to get my stuff out of the apartment before he shows up.”
Ray said, “Forget your stuff. Buy new. Stay away from there. You make a trip to the apartment, you run right into him.”
“Not if I can get there before he does,” she said. “That’s why I don’t want to waste time taking her to the airport. She can do that in Louisville. It isn’t that much farther.”
I could feel my body heat up with rising irritation. “It’s another three hours.”
“I’m not stopping,” she said.
“Who put you in charge?”
“Who put you?”
“Ladies, hey! Knock it off. You’re getting on my nerves. We got Gilbert to contend with. That’s enough.” Ray turned to look at me, his manner solicitous. “I have a suggestion. I know you’re anxious to get home, but a few hours’ delay isn’t going to make any difference. Come to Louisville with us. We’ll take you to my ma’s where it’s safe. You can take a hot shower and clean up while she runs your clothes through her machine.” He glanced at Laura. “You come, too. She’d love to see you, I’m sure. How many years since you’ve visited your gramma?”
“Five or six,” she said.
“See? She probably misses you like crazy. I’m sure she does,” he said. “She’ll fix a great home-cooked meal and then we’ll take you to the airport. We’ll even pay for your ticket.”
Laura took her eyes off the road. “We will? Since when?”
“Come on. She’s only in this because of us. Chester’s probably never going to pay her, so now she’s out the bucks. What’s it going to cost us? It’s the least we can do.”
“You’re very generous with money you don’t have,” she remarked.
Ray’s smile faltered. Even from my position in the backseat, I could see the shift in his mood. “You saying I’m not entitled to what’s in there?” he said, indicating her belly.
“Of course you’re entitled. I didn’t mean it that way, but this is costing us plenty as it is,” she said.
“So?”
“So you could at least ask me first. I got a stake in it, too. In fact, the last I heard, you were giving me the whole eight grand.”
“You turned me down.”
“I did not!”
“You did when I was there,” I said, practically sticking my tongue out at her.
“Would you tell her to stay out of our business! This has nothing to do with you, Kinsey, so mind your own beeswax.”
I felt a laugh bubble up. “Be a sport. This is fun. I’m the adopted daughter. This is ‘family dynamic.’ Isn’t that what it’s called? I read about this stuff, but I never got to experience it. Sibling rivalry’s a hoot.”
“What do you know about family?”
“Not a thing. That’s my point. I like all this bickering now that I’ve got the hang of it.” Ray said, “Is that true? You don’t have family?”
“I have relatives, but no one close. Some cousins up in Lompoc, but none of this day-to-day stuff where people crank on each other and make trouble and act ugly.”
“I lived a lot of years without family. It’s my one regret,” he said. “Anyway, will you come with us as far as Louisville? We’ll get you home. I swear.”
I’m a sucker when someone asks me nicely, especially an honorary father who smelled as good as he did. I said, “Sure. Why not? Your mother sounds like a trip.”
“That she is,” he said. “How long since you’ve seen her?”
“Seventeen years. I was out on parole, but I got picked up on a violation before I got this far. She never came to see me in prison. I guess she didn’t want to deal with it.”
Having negotiated our agreement, we drove on in peace. We reached Nashville at 10:35, all of us hungry. Laura spotted a McDonald’s, the golden arches visible off the Briley Parkway. She took the nearest off-ramp. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, I saw her reach a hand under her jumper, where she made a discreet withdrawal from the Belly Button National Bank and Trust. Since mine was the only face unmarked by recent pounding, I was elected to go into the restaurant and purchase our lunch. To ensure variety in our diet, I bought an assortment of hamburgers, Big Macs, and Quarter Pounders with Cheese. I also bought two sizes of French fries, onion rings, and Cokes large enough to make us pee every twenty minutes. I also picked up three boxes of animal crackers, with nifty string handles, for those of us good enough to clean our plates. To show how refined we were, we ate while the car was still parked at the rear of the lot and then took advantage of the rest rooms before we hit the road again. This time Ray drove, Laura moved over to the passenger seat, and I stretched out in the back and took a nap.
When I woke, I could hear Ray and Laura talking in low tones. Somehow the murmuring took me back to the car trips of childhood, my parents in the front seat, exchanging desultory remarks. That’s probably how I learned to eavesdrop originally. I kept my eyes closed and tuned in to their conversation.
Ray was saying, “I know I haven’t been any kind of father to you, but I’d like to try.”
“I have a father. Paul’s already been a father.”
“Forget him. The guy’s a turd. I heard you say so.”
“When?”
“Last night in the car when you were talking to Kinsey. Said he criticized the shit out of you growing up.”
“Exactly. I had a father. So why do I need two?”
“Call it a relationship. I want to be a part of your life.”
“What for?”
“What for? What kind of question is that? You’re the only kid I got. We’re blood kin.”
“Blood kin. What bull.”
“How many people can you say that about?”
“Thankfully, not many,” she said with acid.
“Skip it. Have it your way. I’m not going to force myself on you. You can do what you like.”
“No need to take offense. This is not about you,” she said. “That’s just how life is. Let’s be honest. I’ve never gotten anything from men except grief.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
The conversation trailed off. I waited a suitable few minutes, then yawned audibly as if just rousing myself. I sat up in the backseat, squinting out at the countryside as it whizzed past the car windows. The sun had come out, but the light seemed pale. I could see rolling hills, carpeted in dull November green. The grass was still alive, but all the deciduous trees had dropped their leaves. The barren branches created a gray haze as far as the eye could see. In some areas we passed, I could see hemlocks and pines. In summer, I imagined the land would be intensely green, the hillsides dense with vegetation. Ray was watching me in the rearview mirror. “You ever been to Kentucky?”