Behind the Moon by Madison Smartt Bell

Author:Madison Smartt Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: City Lights Publishers

51

Jamal piloted Marissa down Highway 15 into the streets of the little town. Faster perhaps if they’d come on I-90. But the two-lane road was calmer. In wind-dried fields along the road were billboards advertising a Wild West Town and presently they passed the attraction itself, or its weathered board gateway, surmounted with quasi-comical mileage arrows and a bleached cow’s skull with horns. Beside the gate, heeled over on a missing wheel, was a remnant of a stage coach.

“It’s fake,” Jamal said as they passed. It was the only remark he had made since leaving the hospital, other than things like turn here.

“They’re on the west side,” Jamal said now. “Turn right up there on Lincoln.”

Marissa made the turn. It seemed a little ludicrous to talk about the “West Side” of a town no better than ten blocks square.

“Left here,” Jamal said. “All right. There’s the house.” He didn’t point, only half turned the yellow bulbs of his glasses to indicate which house he meant. Marissa braked. Beside the little white brick ranch was a flimsy carport with an arched plastic top, empty. When she looked at it she seemed to see it crushed beneath a weight of winter snow.

“Does she have a car?” Marissa said? “I don’t think anybody’s home.”

“She’s got a car.” Jamal turned a thin smile on her as he popped open the passenger door. “You’ll hear it coming. She works at Walmart, down on the bypass.” He glanced at the clock on the truck’s dashboard. “Should be out of work already.”

“Don’t you want a ride somewhere?” Marissa said. “Or—” She was wishing he wouldn’t leave her here alone. But Jamal was already out of the cab, walking around the hood to the driver’s side. Marissa rolled down her window.

“I dunno how pissed she is at me still,” Jamal said. “Probably better if I’m gone when she gets here.” He was offering her a takeout menu he’d pulled from his windbreaker pocket. Marissa looked at it uncomprehendingly. Some kind of Middle Eastern place.

“It’s my mother’s restaurant,” Jamal said. “Stop by when you’re done. You just go down Lincoln and over to—“

“There’s no way I’m not finding it in a town this size,” Marissa said, forcing a short laugh. Jamal laughed also, and waved a hand as he turned from the truck. In a moment he was around the corner, out of sight.

West side. She looked at the little brick house again. A gutter was loose at the corner by the carport. It made a metal scraping sound whenever it caught the wind.

She put the truck in gear, drove half a block to the dead end circle and shut it off. Through the rearview mirror she could see the approach. There was a newspaper on the dash, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her stomach unknotted, knotted again. If she smoked it would pass the time but she hadn’t smoked since that day with Inez.

She got out of the truck and walked to the edge of the asphalt, shading her eyes against the lowering sun.

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