The Men Can't Be Saved by Ben Purkert

Author:Ben Purkert [Purkert, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647009656
Amazon: B0BVMH88LG
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2023-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three

1.

I found myself at the headspring of many highways. I needed the one that led west from New York City in a straight shot—to feel ejected, expelled, spit out clean as a pit. Allentown was two hours away, one and a half if I floored it.

Moon’s car was more than up to the task, though he took his sweet time before letting his lime-green Land Rover out of sight. “Now this,” he explained, proud to showcase its gadgetry, “unlocks the roof rack. And this controls the passenger seat warmer . . .”

But there was no other person to warm. All I’d have with me was a packed duffel bag, along with Ramya’s monitor.

I was eager to leave Moon behind, when he asked a reasonable question: “Where are you taking her?”

I was focused on adjusting his mirrors. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not what I asked,” he said, clapping me hard on the shoulder through the open window.

I told him, quite simply, I had to take care of an errand.

“Let me guess. Liquor run?”

I nodded, if only to avoid verbally incriminating myself. I’d just turned on the ignition, feeling the roar of the engine run through me, when he hit me again, a little harder.

“Hey! So what, I’m not invited?” He wore a broad scowl.

“Oh, I mean—”

“When’s the party?”

“Thursday. Next Thursday.” I found it easier to lie while seated tall and upright in the captain’s chair.

He took out his phone to set a calendar reminder. “You mean this upcoming Thursday or the one after?”

I hesitated. “After.”

“And remind me”—he winked—“where’s that shithole you call home?”

I watched as Moon painstakingly entered each character into his phone, then read back to me where I lived. As I began pulling out into the street, he didn’t wave goodbye. Instead, he waited for the vehicle to inch out, then gave it an ass-slap to the rear fender, as if to say, Yes, good girl, keep going, keep going.

* * *

I was only one exit away from Allentown when the traffic got bad. I decided to pull off for a quick dinner in Bethlehem.

The city looked better than I remembered, having driven through once with my parents when I was young. The steel industry’s abandoned infrastructure along the river had been reclaimed as rows of luxury condos and retail outlets, along with a sizable casino. There was a billboard depicting a woman in a black strapless gown with her bare arms extended high in triumph before the roulette wheel. GIVE YOUR NIGHT A GOOD SPIN, it read. The words floated just above her, beyond her fingertips’ reach.

I saw a KFC at the next intersection and pulled in. As a kid, I’d loved the fast-food chain, over my mother’s objections. She called it the Anti-Kosher. Seated opposite me in the booth, she’d pretend to shield her eyes for the entirety of the meal.

Bethlehem’s KFC was empty except for a noisy group of women seated near the door. They reminded me of a focus group I once observed. It was

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