The Brave, page 8
“How much an hour?”
Alessandro said, “The boss gave you a drink, you did two, three hours work, and he advanced you a lot of money. Show me such a boss!”
“Someone cut your hair,” Marie said.
Rafael sipped his beer and nodded.
“In a barbershop?” Ninja asked.
“Yes.”
“How much did that cost?” Ninja asked.
“I didn’t pay for it.”
“Who paid for it?” Alessandro demanded.
Rafael shrugged again. “I guess he did it as a favor for the boss.”
“Some boss!” Alessandro shouted.
“Nice shirt.” Marie turned her beer can upside down over her mouth.
Rafael’s father was staring at Rafael with hard eyes.
“I guess the boss wants me to look nice,” Rafael said.
Nito snickered. “To work in a warehouse.”
“There is no such boss!” Alessandro said.
“I have to go back Thursday,” Rafael said in a low voice. “Then I will have to earn the money.”
He realized he was picking his fingernails. He remembered Mister McCarthy had told him not to cut his fingernails so the pliers could get a good, easy grip on them.
Rafael put his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t bring home sickness,” Rafael’s father said.
Looking at Rafael, Alessandro said, “Father Stratton is coming tomorrow.”
Marie scoffed. “Father Stratton is always coming tomorrow.”
“He pulled his car over to me when I was walking along the highway and said he would come here tomorrow,” Alessandro said. “We’ll see.”
Marie said, “I will not go thirsty again waiting for Father Stratton.”
Rafael said, “I plan to go to the church, anyway.”
“When?” his father asked.
“Soon,” Rafael answered. “Very soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
Rafael’s father asked, “You have something to confess?” When he smiled his teeth, yellow and brown, crooked and cracked, were visible.
Rafael shrugged.
“You can confess to me, Rafael.” Alessandro laughed. “I will give you penance.”
Rafael’s father said, “They fixed the fence today.”
Nito nodded. “They have named a new manager of the dump. I heard that.”
“I saw him,” Ninja said. “He carries a gun.”
“Ninja…” Marie said.
“He carries two guns. A rifle and one in a holster on his hip.” With his right hand formed as a pistol, the boy showed how the new manager’s pistol hung from his hips. “A big pistol. Maybe a six-shooter.”
“You’re imagining,” Alessandro said.
“No,” Nito said. “I believe it’s true.”
“What is wrong with stealing from the dump?” Rafael’s father asked simply. “What is wrong with taking things other people don’t want and have thrown away?”
“They don’t want us there, Papa,” Nito said. “They don’t want us in the dump.”
“We cut their fence,” Alessandro said.
“I heard they are afraid we might get hurt there,” Nito said. “Die there. Sue them.”
“Ah, yes,” Rafael’s father said. “They don’t want us to get hurt there. So they shoot us there.”
“They can shoot us for trespassing,” Nito said.
“It’s public property,” Alessandro said. “Like a park.”
“It has a fence,” Nito said.
“So do parks,” Alessandro said.
“They don’t want us to live,” Marie said.
“Have you really seen this man, Ninja?” Rafael’s father asked. “This man carrying two guns?”
“Yes,” Ninja answered. “He shouted at me.” Rafael’s father smiled. “He didn’t shoot you.” “He waved the rifle at me.”
“The guns probably are for shooting the rats,” Rafael’s father said.
“The rats!” Nito said. “It would take all the ammunition in the world to shoot the rats around here.”
“We are the rats,” Marie said.
Rafael’s father shrugged. “We will have to cut more holes in the fence. A nuisance.”
Rafael had heard his brother’s truck stop outside.
“Luis has his truck working.”
“It’s been working all day,” his father said.
“Since noon, anyway.”
“It needed a new carburetor,” Ninja said.
Rafael said, “I know.”
“It took how many weeks for Luis to get the money for a new carburetor?” Nito asked. “Three?”
“Five,” Marie said.
Nito said, “Five.”
“We will cut a new hole in the fence,” Rafael’s father said. “Luis can take our findings from the dump to town to sell.”
As Luis entered the store, he blinked his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the shade inside the store.
“Have a beer,” Rafael said.
“I’m going to.” Luis stood by the counter.
“I mean, have one of my beers.” Rafael held up the six-pack collar with one beer left on it.
Luis’ eyes had adjusted so he could see what Rafael held up. He also saw the full six-pack at Rafael’s feet.
“You buyin’ beer for everybody, Rafael?”
Rafael grinned.
“I could have another.” Alessandro crouched and tore a beer can from the six-pack on the floor.
Marie held out her hand for one. Alessandro handed it to her, and tore off another.
Luis took the can of beer from Rafael’s hand, popped it open, and drank half of it.
Crouching, not saying anything, Ninja took his second beer.
“Hombrito!” Luis said. “I am as dry as an old lady’s—excuse me, Marie.”
“I am not an old lady,” Marie said sadly.
Luis drained his beer can and took another off the floor. “You are buying beer for everybody, Rafael?”
“Rafael’s rich,” Marie said. “He has a job.”
“Beer for everybody,” Alessandro said. “Presents for everybody.”
“What do you mean?” Luis asked.
“Look at his new clothes,” Marie said.
“His haircut,” said Ninja.
“He bought all his children presents,” Alessandro said.
“Two dresses for Rita,” Marie added.
Nito said, “The biggest bottle of vodka.”
“And a big, big chicken,” Ninja said. “Store bought.”
“Turkey,” Rafael said.
“I’m not,” the boy answered.
“Is this true, Rafael?” Luis asked.
“Someone gave me the vodka,” Rafael said.
“Someone gave him the vodka.” Marie smiled as if she had something sour in her throat. “Someone gave him a haircut.”
“You had no money this morning.” Luis straddled an old wooden kitchen chair backward. “That I know of.”
“I got a job,” Rafael told his brother.
“A job! Where? Doing what? In the city?”
“In a warehouse. Do I have to tell about all this again?”
“You would not mind telling about it,” Alessandro snapped, “if you were telling the truth.”
“So much money in one day,” Luis said. “Did you steal something from the warehouse, Rafael?”
“Rafael needs to go to confession,” Rafael’s father said.
“He must have stolen something.” Neatly, Marie flicked the ash from her filtered cigarette into her empty beer can.
Rafael spoke low. “I didn’t steal anything.” He was feeling a little angry at these people suggesting he stole something while drinking his beer.
He looked down at his new shirt and felt better.
“What did you steal, Rafael?” Luis’ tone was friendly. “How did you get rid of it?”
Rafael swallowed some of his beer and said nothing.
Softly, Ninja said, “Rafael done stole something.”
“You stole something from the warehouse?” Alessandro asked loudly. “And you think you can go back to that job Thursday?”
With jaw tight, Rafael answered, “I’ll be there.”
“You’ll be arrested!” Alessandro shouted. “You wait and see!”
“Better not go back,” Luis said.
Rafael thought of the contract in his pocket, the checkbook, the card from the bank Rita must sign. He thought of saying to his brothers and father, If I don’t go back, you all will be arrested, but he did not say it. Instead he said, “I have to. That’s the deal.”
“You should go to confession to Father Stratton, Rafael,” his father said.
“How much did you get for it?” Luis asked.
“Enough,” his father said. “Did you find something to do with your truck, Luis?”
“I was talking to this man,” Luis said. “He is rebuilding a store. I was talking to him about carting away the stuff he is taking out of the store, old wall board, rubble, when the robbery and shooting happened. After that, he told me to come back and maybe we will talk some more tomorrow.”
“Robbery?” Alessandro asked.
Ninja said, “Shooting?”
“You don’t know.” Luis talked and acted like a caballero, a man who had a horse, in this case, a truck, and had been away and back again. Sitting backward on a repaired kitchen chair, he spoke to them from the height of the driver’s seat of a pickup truck. “That big liquor store in Big Dry Lake, you know the one? this side of town, was held up. The young woman who works there was shot, they say, through her breast.”
“Liquor store.” Nito looked at Rafael.
“Was much taken?” Alessandro asked.
“Don’t know. I suppose so. Money from the cash register.”
“Did anyone see the robber?” Rafael’s father asked.
“They say ‘young male. ’ That’s all.”
Rafael said, “They always say, ‘young male. ’” Marie said, “It always is, ‘young male. ’” “The young woman is dead,” Luis said. “Shot dead. I saw them lift her out of the store. Her head was covered. She’s dead.”
Reaching for his beer, Ninja tipped over his can. He caught it before much spilled.
It took Rafael a moment to realize no one was speaking.
He cleared his throat. “I saw it, too,” he said. “The robbery. Many cops.”
“How did you see it?” Nito asked.
“Through the bus window. The bus passed by, I guess, after the robbery. I saw many cops in the liquor store.”
“Were you on the bus, Rafael?” his father asked.
“You know it.”
“No,” his father said. “I do not know it.”
“You saw me get off the bus.”
“No,” his father said. “I did not.”
Rafael finished drinking his beer.
“Shot through her breast,” Ninja said.
Staring at the floor, Nito said, “Liquor store.”
Rafael stood up and stretched. His body felt oddly fatigued. He felt his body relaxed after strain. His appearing naked before the fat uncle so long must have tired his body somehow. He wondered how that could be.
He picked up the remaining six-pack collar from the floor. One remaining can of beer dangled from it.
He saw all eyes in the store were on the remaining full can of beer.
“I brought home a big turkey,” he said. “After Rita finds a way of cooking it, we’ll give you each some.”
“Do I want turkey?” Alessandro said. “No. I don’t think so.”
“All right,” Rafael said.
He started to leave the store.
His father said, “Luis, if you get this job carting away rubbish from that store, maybe Nito and Rafael could help you.”
“Maybe,” Luis said.
“That would be good,” said Nito.
“Rafael?” Luis asked. “You want to help?”
“No,” Rafael said from the door. “I have a job.”
k
“HEY, RAFAELO!”
Walking past the shipping crate in which Mama lived, Rafael had forgotten to turn and greet her in the window. The can of beer on the six-pack collar still hung from his hand.
“Hey, Mama.”
Squinting through the sunlight, Rafael looked at the massive woman propped up in her bed looking through the little window.
“You’re lookin’ sharp this afternoon, Rafael.”
He looked down at himself. “New shirt. New jeans.”
“And new dresses for Rita.”
Rafael stepped into the shade of the crate. He handed Mama the can of beer through the window. “The beer is warm.”
“Who cares?” Mama had the beer can mouth hole popped open and to her lips in an instant. She did not remove the six-pack collar. After a long drink, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s been a warm day.”
“Of course,” Rafael said.
“Hey, Rafael,” Mama said. “The funniest thing.
123
This morning, you know little Tita, three years old, lives in Morgan’s old double wide now? just wearing underpants tipped over in that puddle that was there by the Ford.” Rafael looked at where the puddle had been near the rusted, collapsed chassis. Now there was gray, sun crusted dirt. “The water in the puddle must have stung her rashes. She tore off her underpants and began running around in a circle hollering. You know, Rafael, it is my responsibility to yell at the children. What else can I do? Sometimes I have to laugh. Along comes Rocky’s two boys, how old are they, five and six? young Rock and Jazz, and what they they do? They pick up Tita’s dirty, wet underpants and run in a circle after her until they catch her. They put her underpants back on her. She hollers some more and runs away from them. She’s taking down her underpants as she runs. She trips and falls. The boys catch her again and while she is on the ground they try to put her underpants back on. She’s kickin’ her little legs. One foot catches the smaller boy right on the nose. It begins to bleed. Blood and all, he’s still tryin’ to get her pants back on her. I’m laughin’ so hard, I can hardly shout. I never thought I’d see such a thing. They’re all hollerin’ so much they couldn’t have heard me anyway. Tita squirms away from them, gets up. Finally she comes runnin’ to me. Full of tears she tells me she doesn’t want her pants on. The boys come over. Jazz’s nose is bleedin’ into his mouth. Rock is holdin’ Tita’s dirty, wet underpants. When I stop laughin’ from love I tell them they’s all good children. I tell the boys to take Tita to the creek to wash her off, and wash out her pants, and take her home. Maybe she has some dry underpants.” Mama finished the beer. “Whoever told those boys little girls ain’t never to be naked?”
Rafael smiled.
Mama always told stories of what had happened that day or that night.
She had a different story every time.
Sometimes, when she was done with a story, it was difficult for Rafael to remember where the story had begun. Always it was difficult to understand what the story was about, or why it interested her.
*
Inside the travel trailer Rita stood near the kitchenette wall. She was wearing the new blue and yellow dress. It was big on her. The black plastic belt had a new hole in it and was clinched tightly around her waist. The tongue of the belt was many inches long and pointed away from her. She had put on what she called her red sandals, slippers Rafael had found in the dump.
And she had done something to her hair, something more than just wash it. It was combed in a special way, a way Rafael had never seen before. It looked softer, and lighter. It curved out more around her ears.
She said, “I have never had a new dress before.”
He knew that.
She laughed. “I have never had two new dresses before.”
Still standing, Rafael pulled off his boots. “We’ll go watch the sunset.”
Then Rafael noticed that Rita already had set out on the card table the big, brown plastic sheet, folded, they used for watching the sunset.
She was ready for him.
She wanted him.
His shirt and jeans removed, he fitted himself, sitting, into the bottom of the shower stall where there was still water left over from his children’s and Rita’s bath.
“Where’s the turkey?” he asked.
“I put it in the water in the sink. I thought it would stay cooler that way.”
She stood over him, looking down at his naked self, sitting, knees up, in the bottom of the shower stall. He poured water over himself with his cupped hands and used the bar of soap.
Even in the dim light, her eyes were bright and warm as she watched him bathe.
Her watching him did not have the same affect upon Rafael as had the fat old uncle staring at him naked. Rita’s eyes made him feel warm, and relaxed, a little excited, and pleasant. The uncle’s stare had made Rafael feel hot, and cold, want to pull into himself, somehow, get behind something, disappear, tense, and very, very tired.
“I had some of the vodka,” Rita said. She had opened the bottle of vodka? Rafael wondered why that bothered him. “Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want some? I think you have not had much to drink today. Usually, by now…”
“Why not?” He thought of them in a few minutes watching the sunset. “A little, maybe.”
“Especially after you’ve been to the city. I wasn’t even expecting you back tonight, or maybe even tomorrow.”
“As long as you’ve opened the bottle,” he said.
He stood up. With his toe, he slipped the rubber mat away from the drain at the bottom of the shower stall.
“There is something very different about you,” she said.
He dried his body with the wet towel she handed him. He felt much better after washing the sweat and dirt and the bits of cut hair and the eyes of the uncle off his body.
He heard the water from the shower stall pouring onto the hard-packed earth underneath the trailer.
After he put on his new jeans, Rita held a cup with some vodka in it up to his lips. She poured it into his mouth.
He coughed.
She took the cup away and laughed. “What’s the matter with you?” She drank the rest of the vodka in the cup herself.
“Everyone here drinks,” Rafael said. “Even Mama. Even the children.”
Rita said, “Yes.”
