The Boulevard Monster, page 11
Because her bedroom windows faced the backyard, it didn’t take Sera long to notice that two blue jays had built nests in the largest cottonwood and that they regularly hung out in the shade on the back porch ledge.
When I came home from work one evening, I found her standing on a step-ladder, hanging two bird feeders under the porch eaves. Her face, hands, and T-shirt were splattered with different colors of paint. There were even a few drops stuck in her curls.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She giggled. “What’s it look like, silly?”
The way she enunciated the word silly brought a silly smile to my face. Esperanza’s preference for words and Latino accent had seemingly reached across space and time and smacked Sera right in the mouth. Looking up to keep from staring at her in that awkward way parents do their kids sometimes, I examined the feeder closest to me. They were tall, thin wood feeders with a pointed roof. “Where’d you get these?”
“Brianne took me to Hobby Lobby after school today. I painted them myself.”
The sides of the one I was looking at were painted purple, the roof grey. It had the name PAUL painted above the food-hole, large blue diamonds on either side. “Why Paul?” I asked.
“You always said one of Mom’s favorite bands was The Beatles, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“And I think the two blue jays that built their nests in that tree right after we moved in are the same two we saw at the graveyard that day. I think Mom sent them here to protect us. So I named one of them Paul and the other…” She proudly marched over and showed me the feeder she was about to hang. It was solid blue with white smudges that I assumed were clouds. JOHN was painted above the feed-hole, a pair of wire rim glasses below the letters. “I named John. I think that’s what she would’ve done, don’t you?”
I kissed the top of her head and agreed, wishing her take on the situation were the truth. I wanted it to be the truth so strongly that a ball of emotion swelled in my throat, making it hard for me to swallow or talk.
Those feeders were emptied daily once word spread among the neighborhood birds that free seeds were available at the Fowler residence. But I never once saw one of the two blue jays eat from them.
Sixteen
Leave Me Alone!
A blue jay landed in front of the back porch swing when I was home alone drinking beer one fall Friday night. Brianne was working a closing shift at the Golden Corral, and Sera was staying the night at friend’s house. When I saw the note pinched in its sharp beak my immediate reaction was to kick at it. “Leave me alone,” I hollered. On top of all the lying and pretending and burials and nightmares, I’d had a rough week at work. Dan was riding my ass about finishing two rebuilds we were working on for a rental property company.
Unfazed, the blue jay hopped onto the armrest, dropped the note on my leg, fluttered back down onto the porch.
Congratulations on the new house. I need to come see it sometime.
You know what to do.
I wadded up the note and tossed it at the blue jay. It dodged left, plucked it off the ground, and flew away. I downed the last of my beer and left.
I killed my headlights as I turned down the alley that ran behind the rental properties. They were on Galahad Street, the outermost street in a large middle-class neighborhood. A brick storage unit lined the side of the alley opposite the houses, an open lot and abandoned grocery store behind that, providing a sense of security. I parked behind house 216, which was almost complete. That morning the privacy fence had gone up and sod had been laid in the front and back yards. The paint would be done Monday.
On the drive over, I’d decided to dig the hole in the corner next to the fence that separated the two backyards. Since the sod was freshly laid, I’d peel up a few squares, do the deed, and lay them back down.
After grabbing a shovel from the Chevy (I couldn’t risk the Bobcat. Lit residential houses lined the other side of Galahad.), I was on my way back to the yard when a pair of headlights pulled into the alley and stopped behind my truck. I crouched in front of my hood, hoping whoever it was would realize the way was blocked and back out. But the lights went out. I stayed still and silent, my pulse racing. A few seconds later, when the engine cut off, I knew it was Ryan. A belt on his little Toyota made a sharp squeal when he shut it down. A dying cat squeal.
A door opened and closed. “Seth? Where are you?”
I rose as his footfalls approached. “Hey,” I said. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he answered. He had a beer in each hand and offered me one. I took it. “Why didn’t you come to Willis’s party?”
Willis was one of the workers. A roofer. He’d been on the team two years. He’d invited everyone to a birthday barbecue party at his house. I’d said I’d go, but when I learned Brianne and Sera wouldn’t be home and I’d have the house to myself, I decided to stay home. “You know how it is.” I chugged a third of my beer. “When I got home Sera needed a ride to her friend’s house, and then I had to stop by the store to pick up a few things for Brianne, and by the time I got back home and remembered, it was too late.”
He swiped his hand through the air like a magician’s assistant displaying a miraculously empty box. “And so you choose to come out here instead?” He lowered his hand, took a sip. “Didn’t you get your fill of work shit today at work?”
“Guess not.” I took a drink. “How come you’re here?”
“When I didn’t find you at your house or Wizzards, I figured you’d be out here. Those are the only three places you go these days. Home, Wizzards, and work.” He tilted his bottle at the shovel. “What are you going to do with that?”
My eyes fell to the shovel, the bed of my truck. A bubble of frustration expanding in my chest. I wanted to get the sack in the ground and get back home. I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to be answering questions. Making up lies. Chit-chatting with Ryan while a corpse was in the back of my truck. Unable to come up with a specific answer, I said, “I just wanted to check on some stuff.”
“What stuff?”
My grip tightened on both the shovel and beer bottle. “Just stuff, all right? You wouldn’t understand.”
He laughed, causing beer to spew from his mouth onto my pant leg and shoe. “I understand Dan’s influence on you is strong as stink on shit.”
The bubble inside my chest burst. “You don’t get it. You’ll never get it. You think everything’s a fucking joke.” I threw my beer bottle against the wall of the storage building, below a blue jay perched on the flat roof, watching, listening. Beer starred the wall and shards of glass flew into the alley.
“Chill out, man,” Ryan said, raising his hands in the air in surrender. He set his bottle on the hood of my truck, took a step toward me.
I lifted the shovel off the ground. “You need to get out of here.”
“You don’t have to be an asshole.”
I pointed toward his truck. “Leave,” I ordered.
He spun and hurled his beer bottle at the wall. It hit exactly where mine had. “You’ve changed, man. I don’t know if it’s Dan, or the job, or Randy, or your dad’s health, or the new money, but you’ve changed.”
“Everybody changes,” I said.
“Yeah.” He thrust an accusatory finger at me. “But you’ve changed for the worse. Brianne was right.”
“About what?”
“About questioning your actions before the wedding.” He lowered his hand but kept his equally accusatory eyes locked on mine. “And I know that since then you’ve been coming out with the guys again, and Bri says you’re more like your old self at home, but it’s all an act. Something is still off inside you, and it’s plain to see.”
He was right. I felt different. I thought different. I was different. But there was nothing I could do about it. Besides, I was different for him. For Brianne. Sera. My dad.
He put his hands on his scrawny hips, tilted his head back, aiming his eyes at the stars, and breathed for a moment. When he leveled his eyes with mine, he said, “You know I love you like a brother. And I’m always here to talk if you want. But I won’t put up with you being a dick to me.”
“I don’t want…” I started but trailed off. “What I want right now is for you to leave me alone.”
He shook his head, a disbelieving smirk on his face.
“Leave me alone!” I yelled louder than I’d intended.
“Fine,” he said, forcing the word out with anger. “Just what I’d expect you to say.” He headed for his truck but stopped and turned around after he passed my driver’s door. He eyed the bed for moment, sloshed his hand around inside close to the burlap sack, shaking his head.
“Don’t touch my shit,” I said.
He snapped his head at me, snatched the burlap sack, and hoisted it a foot into the air. My eyes bulged, heart hitched, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming at him to drop the damn corpse. After glancing at the watchful bird, I growled and slammed the shovel down onto my truck, mashing a dent the size of a football into the hood.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Ryan yelled. He rustled the sack still in his hand. “All this shit is just that…shit.” He dropped the sack and pointed toward the newly erected fence. “And all that is just work. It’s not what really matters.” He pointed at me, then moved his finger to his own chest. “Me and you. We’re family. That’s what matters. You used to know that. What the hell happened, man?”
With the taste of warm blood on my tongue from biting my lip, I stared. Realizing I wasn’t going to answer the question, he jumped into his truck, slammed the door, and peeled out of the alley, leaving me alone with my frustration. When he was out of sight, I slammed the shovel into my hood again. And again.
Ryan was like a brother to me. One of the closest friends I’d ever had. I truly loved him. But like Brianne, by no fault of his own, there was no way he could understand my intentions or motivations. I’d done what I had to do to get him away from a toxic situation. Treated him the way he had to be treated given the gravity of the situation. Because family was what mattered to me. He mattered to me.
Afraid he might return, or that someone had heard us arguing, or the shovel slam into my hood, or his truck speeding away, I tossed the shovel in the bed of my truck and left.
Gripping the wheel tight enough to whiten my knuckles, I drove to Plemons again. But this time after crossing the bridge, I went five miles further down the river bed. I passed three vehicles head-on, two oil field trucks and one SUV that appeared to be stuffed with teens. I also saw four sets of headlights in my rearview mirror. A few before the burial, a few after. But I didn’t see any lights or pass any cars after I turned off the main road and onto an old oil pump road crowded with crumbling mesquite and tall buffalo grass. Cursing Ryan for showing up at the rental property with each scoop and toss, I buried the body under the watchful eye of a blue jay.
Many months later I learned one of the sets of headlights I’d seen in my rearview was Ryan’s. The dumbass had followed me.
Brianne and two of her friends from the Golden Corral had drinks at Whiskey River after work, and she didn’t get home until 2AM that night. I pretended to be asleep when she whispered my name and kissed my head, and pretended again when she returned from showering, eased under the covers, and fell asleep. After dozing for an hour or two, I snuck out of bed just before sunrise, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and went to the back porch.
Ten seconds after my butt hit the swing, Luther called out my name.
I snapped my head and saw him standing at the end of the porch, fifteen feet away, leaning against the house next to the kitchen window with his hands in his pant pockets. He wore a green Guayabera, black slacks.
“How are you doing, my friend?” he asked. Two blue jays swooped down from the elm tree and landed at his feet, but he kept his eyes on me. “A little early for a drink, don’t you think?”
I moved my attention to the yard. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He snickered. “What got your panties in a wad?”
I finished my beer and tossed the can into the yard. “I’m just tired. Got a lot on my mind.”
“Ryan?”
“Yes. Ryan. Work. The…” My eyes met his. I didn’t want to say “bodies” out loud. It somehow made it more real. “You know.”
He pinched his lips together and nodded as though sympathetic. As though he were a concerned friend and my burden had nothing to do with him. “If you want I could help ease some of your worry,” he said.
“I don’t want you touching me right now.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.” He moved away from the house, took a couple of steps forward, stopped, crossed his arms over his chest. “I was talking about eliminating the most pressing item off your worry list for you.”
I knew exactly what he meant. An image of Ryan’s vacant, lifeless close-set eyes staring at me from inside a burlap sack popped into my mind. “No. No way,” I responded with vigor.
“He’s almost caught you twice now. Once with the blood on your hand. And this time he actually picked up the sack. You got pretty damn lucky. If he gets any closer, I won’t have a choice. He’ll have to be eliminated. No one can find out, remember?”
“Of course I fucking remember,” I snapped back. Then I took in a deep breath, released it. “I won’t let him find out.” Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on my knees and lay my head in my hands. I sat like that for a long minute, then admitted, “I don’t’ know if I can do this anymore.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Luther said in a matter-of-fact, all-is-well tone. “You know that.”
“Maybe if you just give me a break for a while. Stop paying me. Don’t make me do any jobs. But you can let the birds keep watching me to make sure I don’t say anything to anyone about you. Maybe if I had some time away from it I could…I don’t know.” I ground my palms into my eyes.
“That’s not part of the deal you agreed to. Besides, it’s not like I ask you to do it every day. Sometimes I don’t call on you for months. And for what you’re paid, I’d say that’s a damn good deal.”
“Why don’t you just do it yourself?” I twisted my face toward him. “It would be so easy for you?” I don’t know why I asked. I knew he wouldn’t shoot me a straight answer, give me what I believed to be the truth. He would never tell me he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. That he wanted a patsy, a scapegoat, someone to take the fall if the bodies were found. And on a deeper level, he would never tell me he simply liked having someone to control. That he reveled in the power, the sense of superiority, the God-like status the control over me gave him. And on even a deeper level, he would never tell me that perhaps part of the reason he did it was because he was lonely, didn’t want to live an isolated existence. Somewhere deep inside, he longed for a friend. Another brother.
He smirked. “You’re right. It would be easy. But if I did it myself, you wouldn’t have this.” He tapped on the side of the house. “And Brianne wouldn’t be your wife. Or have a Fit. And Ryan would still be in debt. And your dad wouldn’t have proper care. And on and on. Just like I told you the night we met.” He tapped his chest. “I like giving guys like you, guys who’ve gotten the shaft for a majority of their life, a chance to prosper.”
“Then why not just help. Why the catch?” Again, I don’t know why I asked. Did he really want to help me? Maybe a little. But only because keeping me happy lowered his risk of getting caught.
“I’m not a charity,” he answered. “I give people that deserve a chance at a better life that chance. Giving away achievements as easy as handshakes just leads to laziness and a lack of appreciation.”
“It’s not a chance if you force it on them.”
“In my line of business, choices create obstacles and lead to problems. That’s just the way it is.”
I sat up straight and snickered. “Line of business. Killing people isn’t a line of business.”
“It’s a necessity,” he replied.
“How can it be a necessity?”
His eyes narrowed to two fierce flashing points, and he scrutinized me for a long while. “You’re a smart man. I’m sure you have guesses as to how.”
Tired and emotionally frustrated, I let the question that had been circling around in my head for more than a year slip out. “Are you a vampire or alien or something?”
“What is this? 1400?” He took another step toward me. The blue jays hopped along beside him. The hairs on the back of my neck stood in fearful anticipation. “I’m a unique individual with special interests and needs. Nothing more. Nothing less.” He licked his lips. “What I have to do to survive is no more my fault than it is your dad’s that he’s losing his mind.”
Although scared, I pressed him. “Why don’t you just get whatever you need from animals like that guy in Interview with a Vampire?”
He shook his head slow and steady, as if the question were the stupidest question in the history of questions. “You fools do enough of that yourself. But you know what doesn’t get done? No one weeds out the human population. The drug dealers, prostitutes, murderers, molesters, rapists. They all get chance after chance after chance no matter how many people they hurt. No matter how many diseases they spread. No matter how many children they abandon. Imagine how much better society would be without them.”
He jerked his head toward the kitchen window and stepped away from the glass when a light inside flicked on. Water ran from the faucet for a moment, then the light went off. He pointed at me. “You make sure Ryan doesn’t get any closer or else I will.”
I nodded.
