Part II. Hope is a Terrible Thing

DUST TO DUST.

J. MANN

PART II: hope is a terrible thing

I walk for a day.

I don’t see anyone, but the ground shimmers sometimes, and I think I see people. I think, at one point I see an Indian on a red horse. He’s bent low, and he’s riding as fast and as hard as anything. Just went he’s right on top of me, and I think I’m going to be trampled, he vanishes, and I stop short, breathing heavy. I didn’t know ghosts could see mirages, and that’s what it must be, a mirage, even though I swear I looked into his eyes, and we saw each other.

One thing that’s nice about being dead is you don’t get tired, or hungry. I walk through the night, and at first I want to be scared. There’s howls in the desert at night, and you can’t see where they’re coming from. Some of them sound like coyotes, and some of them sound like screams. I don’t need to, but I climb a big rock formation in the morning, and I watch the sunrise. It’s bright like a kerosene storm lamp being lit, and the streaks of scarlet across the sky look like places where matches are struck to light it. If I turn around, I can see my lightening tree as a little speck in the distance, but I’m too far away to see the turtle rock. If I look ahead, I can see a winding, brown/grey snake, and my heart leaps. It’s the highway, and it’s not that far at all.

I’m almost there, as the sun starts going down. These sunsets are so big here. Big and purple like bruises and violets. I really missed eating today. I was thinking about all my favorite foods, as I walked, and it passed the time so quickly it surprised me to find I was almost on top of the asphalt. I’d been swimming in gravy and mashed potatoes and fried chicken from a greasy cardboard box. There was a place just outside the Pit where April and I used to go to pick up dinner for us and Mama, and they made the best fried chicken and po’ boys.

I took Dervish there, when he knocked on my window the second night after he’d moved into the Pit.

I still have no idea how he knew which window was mine. I guess he must have watched me a little. I didn’t think about it at the time.

I was in my chickie shorts that I wore only to bed because of how short they were. They were soft yellow like a baby chick and made out of the same stuff as a bath towel, so they were the best to sleep in during the summer months. I’d painted my toenails silver with little sparkles, and I was wiggling them because for some reason I’d heard that helped them dry faster. While I was doing this, I was poring over one of my older magazines. I’d already been through it six or seven times and cut out all the pictures I’d wanted, and torn out all the perfume ads, but I was bored, and I wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

All of a sudden I heard a loud knock right beside my head on the tiny window. I just about jumped out of my skin it startled me so badly, and it happened twice more before I could even bring myself to lift the little purple curtain and look.

When I did, I saw that ridiculously handsome boy standing about ten feet from the trailer.  I must have looked so foolish because he was the last thing I expected to see, and I got so surprised, I just said, “Oh!” just like that, one word, no more.

He was wearing a grey hoodie, and his jeans and boots, and he had the hood up like he knew he was going to be sneaking around, and he smiled wide when he saw me, and waved.

Still in shock, I lifted my hand and waved back slowly. Dervish looked down at the ground, then back up, and I swear my heart was not beating this whole time, but he motioned with his hand for me to come out, and I dropped the curtain, and had a little moment with myself.

I could stay here.

Or.

I could sneak out, which I had never done in my whole life, and see what this boy, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen, mind you, wanted with me, of all people.

I lifted the curtain back up, and he was still there, a slightly less sure look on his face, and that was what did it. He looked nervous, like maybe I wouldn’t come out, and that just did me in.

I held up my finger to say one minute, dropped the curtain, and took three deep breaths.

Mama would be out like a light on the couch. She’d gotten halfway through her Soco bottle before dinner tonight, so that wasn’t a problem, but, when I turned off my little clip on fan, I could still hear the television, which meant April was probably still awake.

I slithered off of my bunk casually, and looked down the little hall at the living space, where the tv was. It’s light flickered across the floral settee where Mama was dead asleep, and, bless her, so was April! They were leaned on each other like two little old biddies, and I paused a moment to think about how cute they looked, before sliding my pink hoodie out of the Rubbermaid container I used to store all my clothes under my bunk.

I ducked into the bathroom for five seconds, so I could get a bra on, because a lady never leaves the house without one, and I spritzed on a little of my best perfume from an actual bottle that I hid taped to the bottom of the sink, because April liked to just spray any perfume but hers after she used the bathroom.

I slipped out the trailer door, and wandered out front of the trailer. It was humid out, but a little chilly, and I was pulling on my sweatshirt, when I heard a whisper.

“I was beginning to wonder what I was gonna have to do to get you out here,” Dervish said.

I looked up at him. I couldn’t quite see his face. There was a shadow from a tree over it, and he felt even taller than he had the other day.

I was still wiggling my toes.

Oh damn it. I had completely forgotten to put on shoes.

I looked down in shocked disappointment. I guess I wouldn’t be going anywhere with him after all.

“You really don’t talk much, huh?” Dervish said.

I smiled. “I guess nobody’s ever noticed before,” I said, after a moment.

He offered me his arm, like a gentleman, like a movie star, and I jiggled my newly painted sparkly toes with pure agitated frustration. I could feel the dust between my toes, and every curly piece of dead brown grass was like a ribbon tying me to the front of our trailer.

“I forgot my shoes,” I said dumbly, and then I giggled.

Dervish looked down, and he got a wicked smile on his face. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, off like a ghost, or a light in the swamp that you think you see, but as soon as you look hard, you can’t be so certain anymore.

I fold my arms even though it isn’t cold out, but my legs are barely covered in my chickie shorts, and they are just covered in goosebumps. Dervish seems to have been gone a while, and I begin to wonder if, like a light in the swamp, he ever was here to begin with. I didn’t touch him. He might not have been real after all. Maybe I just nodded off on my bunk bed, and I had a this lovely, hopeful dream that I was about to wake up from any minute.

Just as I was about to give up and go back inside, I heard the sound of a car moving really slowly. I peered around the trailer next to ours, and it’s the truck I saw pulling Dervish’s trailer the day before. The lights were off, and he stopped when he saw me. I didn’t think twice. I just scampered right over to the truck. He flung the door open for me, and I hopped in and shut the door tight behind me. It was a little loud, my door, and we both looked at each other and froze.

I wondered in that moment, if I was about to see April storm out the front of our trailer, or worse, Mr. Pikes pop out of his tiny office. Even though I knew he was at home with his wife, my heart felt as big as a bowling ball, and I could hear every beat.

When nothing happened, Dervish threw the truck into reverse, and we tore out of the Pit like the devil was after us. He flipped the lights on, and I could see the ribbon of dust we blew out behind us, as we pulled off the gravel drive onto the main, paved road.

“Where are we going?” I asked, giddy, and nervous, and not entirely sure I cared.

Dervish looked at me sideways. “Well, I woke up this morning, and I could not stop thinking about this girl I met yesterday. She just seemed like nothing or nobody I’d ever met before, and worse, she smelled like sugar daddies, and jelly beans, and all the cotton candy floss I’d ever eaten rolled up into one. She smelled so good, I thought I might have made her up.”
I was blushing terribly, all the way down to my toe sparkles, while he said this, but Dervish just went on talking. If he noticed he was embarrassing me, he didn’t draw attention to it, and I thought that was polite. I didn’t care about that either.

“I had to help my Uncle Joel fix the plumbing on the trailor today, and it was probably the worst day of my life,” Dervish continued, but he didn’t sound so playful when he said that. He sounded angry and sad.

“And when we were done, my back hurt so much, and all I could think about was how much I just wanted some food, and to go to sleep, but Joel ate a frozen pizza, and only gave me a piece of it, and I was so angry, I just went to bed, and I was lying there thinking about how hungry I was, and all of a sudden this girl popped into my head again, and I thought I might go crazy between how hungry I was, and how nice this girl seemed, and as soon as Joel went to bed, I lifted his keys and snuck out.”

“To find me?” I asked, still not sure if I could believe him.

“I know!” he cried. “It sounds stupid. I just don’t know anyone, and you seemed special. Do I sound weird? I can just turn around and take you home if you like.”

“No!” I shouted.

 He pulled the truck over, and turned to face me on the blue leather of the seat.

I looked at him, my eyes must have been wide, because I felt like it took three hours to blink, and while I did, neither of us said anything. We just sat there, in the truck, looking at each other.

Then Dervish asked me something I hadn’t expected at all.

His voice was low and kind of ragged sounding. “Did I scare you?”

I looked over his shoulder at the road. We weren’t far from the Pit. I could have gotten out and walked home in less than twenty minutes, and only about ten minutes drive ahead of us was Goldies Fried Chicken, a drive in place I knew a lot of kids went to hang out, because it was open until midnight.

“Are you still hungry?” I asked.

Dervish slid a little on the seat, not a lot, maybe not even toward me, but it felt like he got closer. “Yes, ma’am.”

I laughed, because he just seemed so strange, so serious one minute, and so silly the next. I liked it. “Then just take us a bit further, dopey, there’s a place just up here.”

Dervish jerked the truck up off the shoulder back onto the road again.

“She called me dopey!” he said to nobody in an indignant voice.

                                                            *

I get to the highway sometime on the third or fourth night. There’s no way to keep track of the passage of time out here, and I’ve forgotten how many sunrises and sunsets I’ve seen even though it only feels like a handful. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to being dead.

When the sun has risen completely, I can see the hitchhiker. She starts out as a white blob way up on the side of the silver stripe that is the road. As I walk toward her, she takes a more permanent-type shape, and I can see she’s a hippie. She’s wearing a loose, white dress with a red cord cinching it in the middle, and she’s got long brown hair with bits that have bleached out from being in the sun so long. It’s straight, and reaches the middle of her back, but it’s not tangled at all. It’s smooth and silky looking. As we get closer and closer, I can see she’s got her thumb out, even though I have yet to see any vehicles on this stretch of road. She’s standing under one of those green signs that says how many miles until certain places, and I’m excited to read how many miles it will be before I get to where I’m going.

I don’t expect her to see me.

            She does though.

            She’s got on a pair of huge, green plastic, sunglasses, and she pulls them down as I get closer, like she’s checking me out, and I stop walking when she does that because maybe, I think, she sees a ghost.

            Then she takes a step toward me.

“Hey!” she says, like we’re already friends. “Where did you come from?”

“Who?” I say, confused. I don’t know if I’ve spoken since I died. I haven’t, so it feels weird.

She throws her head back and laughs, “You’re a trip, man. I like you.”

She has really straight, white teeth, and a big pretty smile. She looks like she belongs on a beach in California.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask, because it seems like the right thing to do.

“Oh, I’m looking to get a lift back home,” she says casually.

“Which way’s that?”

“West, baby. I’m from San Francisco!” She announces this all proudly, and then she laughs again.

It’s nice to be talking to somebody, but there’s something off about her, and it makes me feel sad.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Talula,” she says, and then she looks up at the highway sign like it’s the first time she’s ever seen anything like it. “Vegas. Two hundred miles? Ugh.” She puts her sunglasses back on.

I’m about to ask her something else, but then we hear something, and I turn around, and so help me, it’s a car, a big black thing, speeding toward us.

Talula whoops and thrusts her skinny, brown arm out thumb held high. “This is the one!” she says. “Come on baby! We’ve been waitin’ for you! Come on!”

I feel stupid, but I want to help her, so I stick out my arm too. I’ve never hitchhiked before, and staring down the road at this car barreling down at us feels exciting. I wonder if it’s going to pick both of us up. Maybe it’s a fancy gambling man in a dark suit who will drive us all the way to Vegas in no time flat. It’s getting so that you can feel the ground trembling under your feet now. It’s that close.

Talula’s right next to my ear, “Throw a smile on, honey!” she yells, “You get anything you want if you smile enough!” I look back at her, and she’s got one on from ear to ear. She looks like a toothpaste commercial. I turn back, and the car’s almost right there. I smile, knowing it looks nothing like Talula’s, but the car whips by us in a cloud of dust and engine thunder. It’s gone like a whipcrack, and Talula’s kicking at rocks and cursing up a storm.

“Aw man! Motherfucker didn’t have the time!” she yells, stomping her sandals and waving her arms. “This ride shit is really harshing my mellow, man!”

“How’d you get all the way out here?” I ask.

“My boyfriend,” Talula spits, “EX-boyfriend!” she says and whirls around. “We should walk on some. What did you say your name was?”

“Mae.”

“Wanna walk with me a little, Mae? I think we girls should stick together, can’t be too careful you know?”

“Okay,” I say, and we start walking, and I hope I don’t have to tell her that I’m dead.  

                                                            *

When we got to Goldies, there were a couple of cars parked around the side. The sign was bright yellow like the yolk of an egg, and, as the truck bounced over the curb, I flew up a little on the seat, and I was closer to Dervish, and my stomach clutched tight like a fist.

Dervish ordered fried chicken, a hotdog on a stick, and French fries. He got a coke, and I got a big cup of sweet tea with extra lemon. We sat on the hood of the truck, and I watched him eat like a starving animal. He wasn’t kidding about being hungry.

It was funny. I liked watching him. Just eating like that, he was still strange, and new, and I wanted to touch his dark hair as he bent his head over the red and white paper dish and dropped the chicken bones from his fingers with a deep sigh. I sucked at my sweet tea and pretended I hadn’t been watching so closely. I looked up, past the Goldies sign, at the stars. There was a plane flying over head, and I watched its lights fade into the distance. The medicine smell of a wetnap reached my nose, and I looked over at Dervish as he finished wiping his fingers and hoisted himself up on the hood of the truck beside me.

“Have you always lived here?” he asked after a minute.

“Not always at the Pit, but Lowport, Louisiana, yes,” I replied.

“I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a year or two, not even when I was a baby,” Dervish said. “I was born in Hawaii, you know?”

“Really?” I tried to remember anything I knew about Hawaii, and I could picture a tropical sunset, lots of palm trees, a beach, and a bunch of hula dancers. “What was it like?” I asked.

“I don’t remember much,” Dervish said, and he sounded sad. “We moved when I was two.”

 I whole landslide of questions piled up behind my lips, What happened to your parents? Why did you leave? Where else have you lived? What brought you to the Pit? I didn’t know where to begin though, so I just sucked down my sweet tea, and then I felt him get even closer on the hood of the truck. He held out a big, tawny hand in front of my face and counted off on his fingers,

“Arizona, South Dakota, and Texas for most of my schooling, until I dropped out and went off on my own for a couple of years.” He took his hand down and brushed my cheek with a knuckle. It was so sudden, my heart stopped, and I looked down, but he didn’t seem to skip a beat, and the hand went back down beside him on the truck, just as easily as it touched me. 

“I fell out with my stepdad,” he continued, “So I went looking for my real dad for a while, but the services caught up with me, and I got sent back home to my mom’s. So I ran away again. Then again. Until finally the only way they could get me to finish school was if they sent me to live with Uncle Joel, and that was fine with me. Joel doesn’t care if I go to school as long I help him with his plumbing business, and I don’t care to go to school as long as I can make money.”

“Why’d you move to the Pit?” I asked finally.

“Joel’s girlfriend kicked us out of her house, and Joel and I struck out two town’s over, which is here. I turn 18 in two weeks, and I promised Joel I’d give him a year, and then I was takin’ off for real.”

“Where will you go next?” I asked, breathless at the way he talked. All this travel, all these moves and ambitions. I’d never even been outside Louisiana.

“Oh that’s easy. Las Vegas,” Dervish answered.

“What will you do there?” I already missed him. How could he leave? He’d just got here. I felt another knuckle on my cheek, and I turned to look at him.

“I don’t know for sure, but I’ve got a good idea,” he murmured, and then he smiled that smile at me, and I didn’t even realize I was leaning, until he slid those knuckles alongside my jaw and kissed me.

I shut my eyes, and I felt weightless. My entire world was inside his mouth in that kiss. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think outside of the stars, his salt rimed lips, everything I had ever felt about the Mosquito Pit slid away, and I knew then if he ever asked me to do anything I would do it. I wouldn’t even blink. I wondered if he could tell. I wondered how much I told him with that first kiss, because it seemed like he knew everything already.