Installment #11
Chapter 16
16
The bag of ice weighed heavily on Vern’s shoulder as he fumbled with his key in the dark. Once again, she hadn’t left the porch light on for him.
He attempted to slide the key into the lock of the farmhouse door and found the keyhole just as ice-cold water melted through his shirt. The frigid water dribbled beneath his collar and down his side. He jumped at the chilly surprise of it, launching himself forward through the doorway into the dark living room.
Without turning on a light he started toward the kitchen. He navigated the furniture from memory—quickly past the couch, hand leaving it behind as he moved alongside the coffee table, picking up speed as he neared the kitchen.
His shin banged into something hard.
The bag of ice fell from Vern’s shoulder as he grabbed for his leg. He managed to catch the ice just before it hit the floor, the weight of it rapping his knuckles on the hardwoods. Slowly Vern’s eyes adjusted, making out the shape of his obstacle—the coffee table. Out of place.
What the hell is that doing there? Belongs over by the couch.
Vern looked back to the couch still in its place but strewn with magazines and various wrappers. Clutching awkwardly at the slippery ice bag, Vern hobbled around the coffee table and into the kitchen. He placed the ice in the sink, flipped on the light above it. Steadying himself against the counter, Vern bent and rubbed his leg. He didn’t notice the movement behind him or sense the presence of someone in the doorway.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Vern jumped, bumping his head on the lip of the counter. He rubbed his head with one hand, his shin with the other. Rising to a half-crouch but not turning around.
“Joni, you sound more and more like a wife with each passing day.”
“My ass,” Geri said. “And I told you, don’t call me Joni no more. She’s dead. I’m back to Geri.”
“We should do it, Geri,” Vern said. “Just run off, elope.”
Vern turned to face her. “Jesus, what happened to your face?”
“My tooth hurt,” she said, “so I got rid of it.”
“Damn,” Vern said, wincing.
He tore open the plastic ice bag in the sink as his face broke into a grin.
“Well, maybe this will cheer you up,” he said, breaking into sing-song, “I’ve got a little secret for you!”
“Yeah? I got a big one for you.”
“You do?” Vern said, turning toward her. “What’s that? Tell me.”
“No. You first. I can see you’re dying to tell me.”
“Okay,” Vern said. “Guess who I had a few laughs with earlier tonight?”
Geri didn’t answer. Vern sensed she was in the mood to play along.
“What’s wrong?” Vern said.
“You going to tell me your secret or what?”
“Well you’re a lot of fun tonight,” Vern said. “It was an old friend of yours. That Walt guy.”
Geri’s mouth dropped open.
“Walt? Here in Eden? No fucking way?”
“He is. But don’t worry,” Vern said. “He thinks you’re dead.”
“Convinced?”
“As convinced as the rest of them. Which is pretty damn convinced, if you ask me,” Vern said. “Hell, I’m about half-convinced myself the way you look. That hurt?”
“What do you think?” Geris said. “ Should have seen it earlier. Right after. Nasty. How bad is the swelling now?”
“Not good.”
Geri started toward Vern.
“But you still love me, right sugar?” she said. “Swolled up old hatchet face and all?”
“Yep.”
Vern moved to meet her, examining her puffy face. He tried not to wince again. Poor girl.
“Give me some ice,” she said.
Vern moved to put his arms around her but she ducked out of the way, leaving him facing the living room.
“Put the rest of it in the freezer,” Geri said, grabbing a handful of ice. She grabbed a dishtowel hanging from the oven door handle and wrapped the ice in it.
“Did Walt say why he was in town?”
“This place is a mess,” Vern said, turning on a light in the living room and straightening the couch. “No. No. Why’d you go and move all the furniture around? Could you pick up around here once in a while, please?”
“I don’t care to, that’s why!” Geri yelled from the kitchen. “Not interested in playing house. In fact, I’m going ape-shit all cooped up like this. I’m about done with this hiding out bullshit.”
“Don’t cry to me,” Vern said, placing the coffee table in front of the couch where it belonged. “Once you fake your death, it’s not real smart to go bopping around town. That’s sloppy thinking. You keep a sloppy house. You’re a sloppy person.”
“Told you, I ain’t keeping house at all,” Geri said, holding the dishtowel full of ice to her jaw.
“I can see that,” Vern said. “If you won’t keep it clean for your own sake at least do it out of respect. My gramma managed to keep this house clean through the dust bowl, for chrissakes.”
“Well, that explains a few things, don’t it?” Geri said.
“Explains what?” Vern said, turning to face her.
“Forget it. So Walt bought the story? Good. How did he look?”
“How did he look? Like the Marlboro Man,” Vern said. “What do you care how he looked?”
“He happen to say why he came to Eden?”
“Why do you think he came here?”
“I’m asking you what did he say.”
“Here, let me,” Vern said. He took the dishtowel of ice from Geri’s hand and touched it to her face for her.
“I suspect he rode on into town aiming to reclaim his little filly. That would be you, of course. Does that hurt? Now that you’re dead, he’s just hankerin’ for the details of your last days, bless his broken heart. You know Joni…Geri, I spent the evening picking your drunk cowboy up off the floor and all the time I’m wondering: Why this guy?”
“I see you two hit it off.”
“It helps that we have you in common. Yeah, you could say we hit it off all right. We’ll be hanging out together tomorrow too.”
“What?” Geri pushed Vern’s arm and the ice away from her face.
“Your cowboy wants to see the sights,” Vern said. “Retrace your final footsteps.”
“Jesus, he’s not leaving? Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Believe I just did,” Vern said. He tried to place the ice on her face again but Geri pushed his arm away again.
“Relax,” Vern said. “He’s not going to see how you lived, just how you died. You know, I’ll drive it home for him, no pun intended.”
“Oh, hell, this is bad,” Geri said, moving back into the kitchen. “This is very bad. Damn it. Why can’t he just leave? That man has the hardest time taking the easy way. You know what, sugar? You’re right—we should just go. Tonight. Just run off. Together. Vernie, go get the money out of the doll room.”
Rather than starting for the doll room, Vern followed Geri into the kitchen. He moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her bare shoulders. He squeezed her a little, pressing himself against her body.
“Hey Sloppy, there’s that sloppy thinking again,” Vern said, thinking fast. “I can’t disappear so soon after your death. They were investigating me too, remember. Still are, I’m almost sure. No, we stick to the plan.”
“The plan didn’t account for Walt. Don’t jack around with him, Vern. Walt’s a lot of things. Stupid ain’t one of them. Go on, get our money. Let’s go.”
“He’s really got you shook up,” Vern said.
“Well, how about I go then, just me?” Geri said “I’ll go somewhere, wait for you. Texas. Mexico. I’ll go get the money.”
Geri headed for the doll room. Vern caught up to her halfway down the hallway. He moved around in front of her to block her path.
“I really don’t think so, baby,” Vern said, putting more ice to her face. “Let’s just leave the money where it is.”
“Take the ice off for a second. It’s getting too cold,” Geri said. She turned away from him and went back into the kitchen.
She yelled from the kitchen.
“Just leave the money where it is?” she said. “And where would that be, Vernie? Because it sure as hell ain’t back there in grandma’s creepy bedroom.”
Vern walked into the kitchen, a sincere look on his face.
“What are you talk—”
“Where’s my money, Vern?”
“I don’t—”
“Where?”
Vern sighed, cracked his neck and checked his nails. “The money’s safe. Safe as baby Moses in his basket.”
“Where. Is. My. Money?”
“The salvage yard.”
Geri spoke calmly.
“Can you kindly tell me what the fuck my money’s doing in a salvage yard?”
“It’s resting. Safely.”
“It was safe here, Vern. Why did you take it? Baby, you know you can trust me.”
“Like Walt could trust you? Like Diane? Speaking of, your Marlboro Man, he has a date with your Iron Dyke.”
Geri wheeled around, putting a finger in Vern’s face. “Don’t call her that, I told you. What’s Walt want with Diane, anyway?”
“Compare notes, techniques?”
“Stop it, damn it. She don’t know anything.”
“He doesn’t know that. Who knows what he wants with her? Misery loves company, I suspect. So do I. Come on back over here. Come on, let me put the ice on your face. The money – our money – is fine. You know, I had to bullshit both your old lovers tonight. It’s funny, driving over here I realized I’m not even your lover. Not technically. Not technically yet, I should say. Power of positive thinking and all that.”
“Soon baby, soon.”
“Yes. Same goes for the money,” Vern said as he went back into the living room. “Soon baby.”
Geri came up behind Vern and slipped her arms around his waist, whispering upward into his ear.
“Oooh baby, that’s not love. That’s called something else, professional in nature. Don’t you think?”
Vern slouched, hung his head and stared at the floor. Geri slipped around to face him, getting him to look her in the eyes.
“I promise you, baby. I mean look at me. Look at my face. You don’t want me now, not looking like this.”
“I do,” Vern said. “I certainly do.”
“But I want it to be right for us. Just right. That’s why I think we should just go. Get out of this house, this town. Find someplace better, a place that’s right for us. Otherwise, I’m afraid Walt’s going to mess it all up for us. He and I didn’t part on the friendliest of terms. There’s a good chance he didn’t come here to get back with me. He might want to get back at me. So go on and get our money. Let’s just go.”
Vern pulled Geri into his arms. He enjoyed holding her. But he was frustrated and depressed that the evening would go no further. He lightly touched her swollen jaw, cold from the ice.
“He don’t matter,” Vern said. “We stick to the plan. Tomorrow I’ll give him a show that will send him home. If only to get away from the stink of death.”
“Oh, Vern baby, that’s so dramatic. The stink of my death. I like that.”
“Yours?” Vern said. “Honey, I meant his.”