First Marriage by Kevin Moffett

Author:Kevin Moffett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

The Volvo had been moved to the front of the service station, one fan blowing into the driver’s-side door, another into the passenger’s side. Beneath the wiper blade was a piece of paper, which Tad freed. THE HAPPY HAWKER, it said. WE PAY TOP DOLLARS FOR IMPORTS. There was a drawing of a car with dollar signs for headlights.

He leaned in. The odor, though not as harsh, was still there. Still insistent. The remains of the remains outlived the remains, Tad thought. And the wildflower bouquet remained on the dashboard. It looked happy there.

Inside the station, the old mechanic sat eating a sandwich half wrapped in wax paper. He listened to a portable radio and chewed in rhythm, as if eating the song.

“Still stinks,” Tad said. “Any more fans?”

The mechanic swallowed thoughtfully before speaking. “People used to put dead fish inside hubcaps, as a joke. Maybe someone’s playing a joke on you.”

“I told you, it’s not my car. It’s Gar Floyd’s.”

“Maybe someone’s playing a joke on Gar Floyd.”

“Maybe. And maybe we’re all clowns in a giant circus.”

“Maybe.”

The other mechanic came in from the garage and whispered something to the old man, who said, “Christ,” and stood up with his sandwich. They walked outside. Tad followed them behind the station, where, in a packed-dirt clearing, Jeff was stooped over the picked carcass of what looked like a turkey. When he saw the three men, his front shoulders went rigid and he took the carcass’s spine in his mouth, waiting, it appeared, for a reason to run away with it.

“He acts like we don’t feed him,” the younger mechanic said.

The old man breathed through his nose. “He’s not acting like anything, Lon. It’s instinct. He’s made to think every meal’s his last. It’s how he survives.”

“I bet he’d bite me if I tried to snatch it from him.”

“What would you do if someone tried to take away your last meal?”

Tad had the feeling that this exchange had occurred before, perhaps hundreds of times. After a while, Jeff relaxed and began gnawing at the carcass, crunching the bones ostentatiously.

“Stranded in Bisbee,” the old man said finally, continuing to admire his dog and eat his sandwich. “That could be a hit song. It’d be sad, but not too sad.”

“Something’s wrong with this place,” Tad said. It was one of those things that he didn’t know he was going to say until he said it. “We were happy till we got here.”

“What rhymes with Bisbee?” the old man said.

“Frisbee,” the other mechanic said.

Tad waited for something else to happen. The old man bit so close to the wax paper that Tad was sure he was going to take a hunk out of it, but the old man knew, apparently he knew, what he was doing.

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