chapter six
Chapter six
The white pavement baked Nate’s bare feet and heat lines rose from the top of the hill. He was barefoot, but had calluses thick enough to not bother him too much. The houses all looked the same, even in the day. Chain link fence ran around every front yard, unmowed grass and dandelions peeking through the bottom holes. Old, rusted children’s swing sets that been unused for years, broken chains and seats, dotted every few lawns. Dogs were roped to steel spikes and barked at everything that passed by, reaching the end of their tether and nearly strangling themselves.
Nate wore bleach stained jeans that were cut off above the knee and a ragged Space Jam t-shirt. Tina walked alongside him in short neon pink swim trunks and an oversized, faded black pocket t-shirt. They were on their way to visit an elderly couple that Nate helped out every week for some extra cash. They lived in the next neighborhood in a decrepit aluminum-sided house that was built during the post-World War II suburban housing boom.
The sidewalk curved along to the right and the couple followed it. The grass between the fences and the sidewalk was dry and dying in the heat, in need of watering.
A fourteen-year-old boy was sitting on a front porch smoking a cigarette. He didn’t have a shirt on and his stringy blonde hair was disheveled. There was one of the browned steel swing sets in his tiny front yard and a towering oak cast a shadow over the lawn and porch. The door was open behind him and the television was turned up too loud, blaring the soundtrack to some cartoon.
“Hey, kid!” Nate stopped and yelled to the child. Tina stood next to him and put her arm on his waist.
“What do you want?” the child muttered crossly. He took a short drag and blew the smoke into his face. He rested his arm on top of his knees, crossing his other arm.
Nate opened the gate to the fence and walked through the yard, over a clutter of action figures and plastic yellow pails and trowels. The boy stood up and lingered for a moment, appearing threatened. He blinked and brought the cigarette to his lips, where he held it while he pushed his hands through his hair.
“You got another cigarette?” Nate asked the boy. He said it not as much like a question, but like he was telling the boy. The child pulled his out of his mouth and exhaled, then reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and retrieved a bent pack. Nate stepped closer and pulled a cigarette from the pack. It was broken down the middle, just like the others, with dark brown flecks of tobacco bursting from the tear. He yanked it apart, put the larger half into his mouth, and offered the other half to Tina.
The boy pulled out his lighter and handed it to Nate. The lighter had a bikini-clad woman with large brown hair, staring seductively. Nate lit his and Tina’s cigarette, then pushed the burning orange end of his to the lighter, rubbing it over the woman’s bikini top. Within seconds, the top vanished and displayed the woman’s ill-proportioned large breasts.
“Hey, kid, that’s pretty cool. Where’d you get this?”
“Store down the street, that one that the chink owns.”
“Shit, I’m gonna have to check that out. These are my favorite lighters.”
The boy snatched the lighter out of Nate’s hand and buried it in his pocket.
“Your grandparents home?”
“Yeah, gramma’s in the kitchen making supper and grandpa’s watching TV.”
“Thanks.” Nate patted the kid on the back as he walked past him into the house. The door must have been open all day because the inside of the home had the same temperature as the outside. The humidity made Nate’s breathing heavy. The smell of cooking hamburger meat soaked the air. The house was mainly decorated with dark walnut and brown colors, except for the orange shag carpet that was laid over the living room floor.
“Who the hell is it?” a cranky voice called out from inside the living room. Nate flicked his cigarette outside the front door and motioned for Tina to do the same. They continued walking past the foyer into the living room, where they saw the old man sitting in his chair.
The chair was an antiquated recliner that was upholstered in the dullest shade of chocolate and matted down after decades of use. Stains coated the portions of the arms that weren’t covered in duct tape. The man had a macramé blanket draped over him and bore a sour expression with his thick silver eyebrows slanted downwards. This was the only facial expression Nate had ever seen him use. The wrinkles of his face were so thick and loose that some overlapped each other, especially on his cheeks, giving him the appearance of a bulldog. He was very thin, but still had a golf-ball sized double chin hanging below. It sprouted a few long, wiry hairs that were longer than the few he had on top of his head. His jaw moved back and forth in a jittery manner. It appeared as if he was trying to grind his own teeth in. A strong smell surrounded him, a thick body odor mixed with cigarette stained clothes that probably haven’t been washed in at least a week.
The man clutched a chunky remote control in his hand, belonging to the 1970s television set. The remote was black and silver with five large red buttons. He never actually used it, unless it was to turn the volume up. The channel never moved from the local Christian broadcast station. At this point, there was a man who resembled Bob Barker walking around a purple velvet stage, offset from the gold backdrop. The quality was murky and if Nate squinted enough, he could make out the phone number of the station that lurked at the bottom of the screen in white italic lettering.
“How are you today, Mr. Rolls?” Nate asked the man.
“Well, you know, I ain’t getting any younger,” he said without a hint of humor. He didn’t even look away from the television. “What are you kids gonna do for me today? I need the lawn mowed and my bathroom cleaned.”
“We can do that, no problem. How much are you gonna pay us?”
“Let’s see how good of a job you do, then we’ll talk about it.” He yawned and pulled his blanket up a little higher.
“Nate?! Is that you?! Come in here!” a voice called from the kitchen. Nate turned away from Mr. Rolls and took Tina’s hand to lead her to the kitchen. It was right past the living room and well lit from the sun shining directly through the window above the stainless steel sink. The walls were pale green with low cabinets and yellowed white tiles covered the floor. The sink was overflowing dishes and an old pot of cold, crusty spaghetti sauce sat on the stove, next to a pan sizzling of hamburger meat being stirred by an old woman. Flies zoomed in circles like vultures above the spaghetti sauce.
“How are you doing, Nate? Who’s the girl? I didn’t know you had a younger sister.” The woman wore red denim pants and white shirt with a purple pin. Her hair was colorless and permed. Bulky red earrings drew attention to her withered and droopy earlobes. She had large framed bifocals that magnified the purple welts around her eyes.
“I’m okay, Mrs. Rolls. This here ain’t my sister, it’s my new girlfriend, Tina.” Tina waved at Mrs. Rolls.
“Oh, um, hi, Tina. I hope you came to help. We always need more help over here.” Mrs. Rolls shuffled the meat around the pan with a fork. She stood not much taller then five feet and had a hunched posture.
“Sure I can. I can clean real good,” Tina shyly uttered.
“Great. I’ll have you two start by cleaning his bathroom.”
“Sounds good, Mrs. Rolls,” Nate sputtered and nodded without smiling. He turned away and led Tina out of the kitchen. They transversed the living room again to the main hallway that led to the bedrooms. The hall was unlit and there were no windows, so only a bit of pale light poked underneath the doors.
As they approached Mr. Rolls’ closed bedroom door, Nate heard scratching noises. He moved next to the door and the scratching got louder, coming from the bottom. He opened the door and a small dog was at his feet. It looked like a toy and had dirty white curls that were growing in from its last trim. The dog barked shrilly and started pawing at Nate’s shins.
“Get off me, damn dog!” Nate kicked the dog away and it scurried into the hallway.
Mr. Rolls’ room was cluttered with garbage. The light from the bathroom window on the left illuminated the otherwise dark scene. Boxes were stacked to the ceiling and full black trash bags with red ties sat scattered throughout. His white bed sheets were crumpled and strewn about. The bed sat in the back of the room across from a closet, and an oak desk was just right of the door. The desk held a disarray of paper stacks, glass paperweights and knickknacks. A stuffed deer’s head was mounted on the back wall above the bed.
The couple waded their way through the trash to get to the bathroom. A rising stench of feces beat in time with the summer’s humidity.
“Ewwwwwwwww!” Tina threw her elbows up and curled her lip. Nate looked down to see a pile of dry, dark brown dog droppings. He continued walking to the bathroom.
The window was spotted with dust and the windowsill was a nest of dead fly corpses. The old iron bathtub was white with rust spots circling the faucet and dirty brown water puddled inside. The beige shower curtain was pulled back, exposing the scummy ivory tile behind. A mess of wet towels was heaped in the corner next to the sink, which had toothpaste streaks inside it. Mildew dotted the walls and a collection of white moths bodies laid in a corner.
Nate sighed.
“Well, let’s get to work.”
…
“I tell you, most kids don’t know the meaning of work. They don’t want to help out an old man. I say, they’re just lazy assholes, never knew how to get their hands dirty. I worked until I was 70, and I ain’t shitting you. I was old, and I still kept working. I had the same job since I was 20, working in the factory. Broke my back everyday for that company, I earned every penny.
“When you spend 50 years working for a man, you feel accomplished. You feel like you deserve to sit home on your ass. I’d be a lazy sonuva bitch if I didn’t think that way. You kids are on the right track, you’re hard workers, you just need to get jobs. The Lord will only provide so much for you.
“God rewards a hard worker, and because of that, man had better, too. If you work hard, you’ll be just like me one day.” Mr. Rolls paused and took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled, then coughed loudly.
“Ya know, when I was 18, there was this woman that lived next door to me. I’d just graduated from school and thought about joining the Army. All my friends were doing it, and I thought it would’ve been right for me. Even went downtown and talked with the draft man! I really thought about joining, but I helped her with all of her chores and didn’t want to leave her. She was 45, not all that old, not as old as I am now, but when you’re 18, anyone over 20 is an old person to you.
“She didn’t really need the help that much more than she did the company. See, she never got married or had kids, just an old maid. I’d look out my window at night and see her leave. She wouldn’t get back in until after the bars closed. Sometimes she’d have men come inside her house.
“One day, I was over helping with yard work. There was a big ol’ oak tree that was in her backyard that needed trimming. When I was real young, I’d climb that sucker. When I got older, I had to cut the branches every spring. I was all hot and sweaty and my shirt was off. I came inside to get a glass of water.
“I walked through the back patio into the living room and there she was on the couch. Buck ass naked playing with herself on the couch. She looked up at me, had her hand all touching her tits, and said to me, ‘Pull your pants down.’
“Now, being 18 of age, I wouldn’t turn down any kind of pussy.” Mr. Rolls coughed profusely. “‘Scuse me for a minute. HACK HACK HACK HACK!” He pulled a plastic coffee Thermos from the side pouch on the chair and spit thick brown mucus into it.
“Eh, now where was I? Anyways, I pulled my pants down and had the hugest hard-on you ever did see. So I walked over to the couch and threw her legs over my shoulders and started pumping her like a jackrabbit.
“From that day on, I went over to her house and fucked her every morning. Sometimes I wouldn’t even help out with the chores, we’d just mess around. Don’t tell Evelyn or nothing, but she was the best lay I’d ever had. You don’t see women like that anymore. Because of that bitch, I didn’t join the Army and got a job at the factory two years later.
“We had sex until I was 23, when I met Evelyn. I got her pregnant and then we moved out of the neighborhood. I never saw that woman again after that, but I’m sure she found someone else to take my place. She may have been 50 by then, but boy, could she still do it.”
“How much are you going to pay us?” Nate questioned, as if he hadn’t heard a word that Mr. Rolls had just said.
“Pull my wheelchair over here, baby, I’ll get your money.” Tina turned to face the wheelchair to her left and pushed it next to Mr. Rolls’ armchair.
“Thank you, sweetie.” He pulled the blanket from himself and rested it on the back of the chair. He was in his white briefs only. His legs stopped at his knees, giving him scar-covered nubs. The skin around where his knees should have been was loose and hairless. Mr. Rolls leaned forward, grabbed hold of the arms of the wheelchair and positioned himself.
“Um, sir, do you need any help?” Tina offered. Nate nudged her and gave a disaproving look.
“Well, if you want.”
Tina grabbed him and Mr. Rolls put his arms over her shoulders.
“Okay, are you ready to lift me?” Mr. Rolls asked.
“Yeah, one… two… three!” Tina hoisted the man into the air. They were head-to-head, but his nubs only extended slightly below her waist.
She turned to place him on the wheelchair, but he still held her. The man was panting heavily and moaning indecipherably to himself. He started licking her neck slowly.
“You fucking creep! Get off me! Nate!” Tina shouted in a panic. Nate tried to pull Mr. Rolls off, but the mans grip was tight.
“C’mon, get off of her! Don’t do that.”
Mr. Rolls ignored Nate and clutched Tina, planting his face in between her breasts. She began to hit him on his shoulders when he let go and fell onto his wheelchair. Tina lunged backwards in fright. He rested his head back and drool was leaking down his chin. He had a small bulge in his underwear where his erection stood halfway firm.
“Don’t you ever try to pull shit like that again, you old bastard,” Nate threatened, pointing his finger into Mr. Rolls’ chest. “Now just give us our money so we can get.”
“My wallet is on the coffee table,” Mr Rolls pointed at it. “Take $20 and get out of here.”
Nate picked up the wallet and opened it. There was eighty dollars in twenties. He took $40.
“Fuck you, we ain’t never helping you again,” Nate sneered, pointing his middle finger at the old man as he walked out.
The young boy was still on the porch, smoking another cigarette.
“Give me one of those,” Nate demanded. The child gave Nate another cigarette and lit it. Nate and Tina joined hands and walked out of the yard, back to the comfort of the searing cement.