Bar Hop

1.

Leake clung tight to the armrest, back arched, muscles tight.

He’d forgotten to slam the steel door shut, and so found death a sharp drop away. Hot brains on cold pavement. The door wobbled in his hands.

When Old Gray scrubbed against the curb and onto the sidewalk, Numa yanked left, hit the other curb, yanked right. Leake, he panted “momma. momma. momma. momma.” till she hissed “What boy?” and slapped the brake down causing the Lemans to lurch to a stop. Leake’s muscles deflated like a loosened bowel.

“What?”

“Momma, we gon’ die!”

Numa slid her eyes along the windshield and out her window. She squinted at the side mirror then pushed her face back into the windshield again.

“Leake, where are we?”

“I don’ know!”

Gas fumes burped as they sat idling in the night. Her toes searched for the pedal, slide-tapping side to side, front and back. It took 15 seconds to find their mark, but when they did her piggies pressed down flat. Old Gray popped out into purple twilight. Leake knotted his arms to the door.

They passed lightless windows and empty spaces, streets lacking in men or women, girls or boys. Leake didn’t know if he wanted to see a police car or not. There were no police cars.

Numa stopped for a red light. Leake opened the door and tried to pull it shut, but his arms were jello. He couldn’t tell if it was opened or closed. The light turned green.

“Leake, can you drive?”

He farted and laughed at the same time, but then eyed his momma. Her lower lip hung down below her bottom teeth.

Leake could see past her tongue, into her gullet. Her eyelids pinched together; wrinkled slices, charred cheese. The light turned red.

“Leake, I wan’ you drive us home.”

“Momma, I can’t drive!”

“Sure. You can. I give you the keys.”

“But I don’ got a license!”

They sat in fog and exhaust, blue and gray in the bruised night. Their bodies vibrated, the engine thumped. The light turned green.

“Drive us home.”

“Momma!”

“leake”

“I don’ got no license momma! I’m ten! Ten years old!”

She turned her head; stared past his ear. Another minute barreled away.

“You not gon’ drive?”

“No!”

“Allright then. got damn it.”

Iron talons slapped down as momma twisted the Lemans hard right. Leake howled “Momma! Momma! Momma!” his arms a fleshy rope between door and death. Numa burnt doughnuts until the light raged, green, yellow, red. The signal painted an arrow in her mind: Forward!

She gripped the wheel tight, shooting them both into the big empty. Whiskey and nicotine clogged out screaming tires, screeching boy.

2.

It started out like all the rest, Nate and Numa deep in a face scratcher. Numa woke Leake in the middle of it, squawking “Leake! Leake! Help me Leake!” so that Leake, who normally slept like the buried, snapped up and out of bed, running full bore on bare feet for momma.

He found the yellow-brown circle pressed into the trailer’s back wall: Numa pushed back in the couch, head and hair inside Nate’s one squeezed paw, his other paw thumping sideways against her pink-scorched cheek bone.

Leake dove in, his scrawnish frame gluing onto Nate’s back and neck and head. It was more surprise than Leake that made Nate fall between couch and coffee table. He took the metal ashtray and plastic cup, squeaking Leake and cigar butts down onto the carpet. His arms spread like a cindered eagle as he hollered “You noodley bastard!” slapping at Leake over his shoulder. Leake slapped back, hitting arm and boob and gut. Then Teagie was in it. Leake’s step-brother and Nate’s boy. He went at Leake for slapping his daddy. He went at Nate for slapping Leake. Numa crouched over and above them on the couch. The hardened gambler eyeballing roosters in a smoking pit.

“Get him Leake! Get that dough lipped cocksucker!”

And just as quick, Teagie was out of it. He ran for the green phone, hiccupping “I gon’ call the law! I gon’ call the law!” which stopped Nate and Numa both. They yelled “Teagie/son, No! Put that got damn phone down!”

He threw the phone against the kitchen wall, running and snotting back to his bed. Numa hopped off the couch, grabbing her purse and cigarettes. She grabbed Leake’s arm too, glaring into Nate’s wild man eyes as she spit words in Leake’s face.

“Come on son, we are goin’ out.”

3.

Numa sat on one red stool. Her boy Leake sat on the other, spinning. When the bartender asked “What can I get you?”

Numa squeezed her nails into Leake’s shoulder. The whirling stopped.

“Jack and Coca Cola.”

To Leake this was nothing new since she’d been drinking those all his life. But then the bartender asked “What’ll it be for you young man?” and before Leake could whisper chocolate milk or Dr. Pepper, Numa pinched him again, answering “He’ll take a Shirley Temple.”

“Well I’ll have to see some I.D. then, little man.”

They snickered as Leake’s ears and face waxed a purple rose.

“I’m pretty sure he left it at the house.”

“Aw, I guess he looks old enough.”

When the bartender turned to mix the drinks, Leake whispered “Momma, I can’t drink alcohol.”

Numa’s eyes circled the room.

“Don’t pee yourself Leake, it’s just a soda drink.”

She patted his head, smiling as any body else’s momma would for anybody else’s boy. The bartender brought Leake’s drink, then plopped a cherry on top. It was cut through with a blue plastic sword. Leake sucked the drink down and asked his momma for another. She obliged, ordering a second Jack and Coke along with.

The more Numa drank, the more she tossed peek-a-boos out at the men wrapped round the bar. They’d been ogling her since she’d first walked in, dragging her wide-eyed boy behind. She lifted her purse, dug around; slapped quarters on the counter.

“Leake, why don’t you go play a video game?”

4.

“So your momma, she married?”

He was a pale man with an orange beard, and really good at Donkey Kong. Leake stared up with raccoon eyes into the screen, his face reflecting the pale blues, reds and greens.

He’d run out of quarters two hours gone.

“Yessir.”

Beard jerked his head left at the bar. Leake turned to look and saw Numa sliding one finger along the rim of her glass.

Her other hand rubbed circles on a stranger’s arm. She was laughing, but not in her real way. She didn’t snort at the end. Only Nate ever made her snort.

A rolling barrel of beer crushed the skull of a blue-mustachioed plumber in red overalls. An evil monkey danced. Beard reached in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He placed it in the crown on Leake’s head.

“Your turn kid.”

5.

Leake wouldn’t wake up, so Numa dipped her cuticles in the dregs of Jack and Coke #13, splashing his face. Leake yelped, not knowing the when, the where or the why. She belted out, “Wake up sunny shine!” and sneezed out a molasses giggle.

Leake’s eyes fuzzed over the bar, then tweaked clear on the vibrating teeth of a smiling man in a yellow tie.

“Well hello there cowboy.”

He was holding out his hand. Leake shook it, but instantly hated the hand. Hated the teeth and hated the man.

“Your mommy tells me you like video games.”

“yessir”

“How’d you like to come over to my place and play Atari?”

Leake thought of perverts in station wagons with candy bars and lollipops; of ice-cream trucks where you had to step inside for your free Nutty Buddy. He stared at perfect white incisors. Mr. Smiles.

“Your mommy will be there too. We’re gon’ have a talk.”

Leake stood up, found his mother’s wrist.

“Oh Leake, it aint like it’s a school night.”

Leake thought “But it is too.” without saying it out loud, knowing the words would sink and die in her muddy titters.

“You like Asteroids, cowboy?”

6.

She leaned into the windshield, trying to follow Mr. Smiles’ dancing lights. Red, blue, green. Booze-sweat dribbled light z-lines through her Mascara. A broke-back cigarette wobbled on her lips. The Jack Daniels had made her cross-eyed, so the Lemans swayed wide right and wide left. Leake knew Mr. Smiles wanted that talk with his momma real bad. He was driving slow, so very slow, allowing her to keep up.

“I don’t want to play video games momma. I’m sleepy.”

“You can take a nap then. Jesus.”

She snapped the wheel to avoid hitting a parked Sunbird.

“Does Nate know we seein’ your friend?”

She slapped her foot on the brake. They were in the middle of the road, well past midnight.

“Listen to me smart ass.”

Numa pinched the bent cigarette between two pointing fingers. Its hot tip matched the carmine flash of her eyes. Mr. Smiles honked his horn once, blinked his lights twice. Numa leaned back into the windshield.

“oh.”

Her foot jerked side to side, up and back, then found the gas, pushing them further into evening’s gaping maw.

7.

Big toothy had his fists squish’t in his sides, elbers out. Paul Bunyan, subtract the beard. We both lean’t in the windshield, oogin’ a stranger in a yeller tie. With tusks.

I turn’t to my momma.

“I wan’ go home.”

Her eyes bounced circles round my head, but finally they did land on my face. Her mouth hung open. Breath to kill poo flies. I don’t know she was in her right mind or not.

“Come on boy.”

Momma jellied out the Lemon so I got out too. I ran over to hold her steady, but she slap’t me off, pushin’ the jingle jiggles and the wet wiggles back down into her pinkie toes.

Mr. Smiles step’t in. I was blinded by teeth.

His arms and hands spread wide, and he moved in close. I seen the Dionaea muscipula once, in one of Nate’s National Geographics. Before Smiles could pull her in, momma lean’t her neck way back. I seen Dracula once too, 2:30 in the morning – Nate ’n Numa past out on the couch; wrap’t up in they love burrito.

Momma got an eyeful of Mr. Smiles’ banana tie. The charcoal in her eyes flick’t and I felt just the littlest bit a momma heat, so I yell’t out “Momma!” and the embers caught. I felt the burn. She was with me again. Her palm pop’t up to Smiles’ face -- fang level.

Momma whispered “no.”

Mr Smiles, his canines twitched.

“What?”

“Leake. Get your ass in the car.”

“Oh come on now baby.”

“It’s pas’ his bedtime.”

He tried squeezin’ her again, but her lids and lips drew tight cracks in her face. I knew it was all right now, I’d seen that before. I got in the car. Smiles’ arms flap’t down.

Momma eased back into the silver Lemon and slam’t the door. But he haint give up yet. He leant in the window, Momma glarin’ up as Smiles glar’t down.

“You shouldn’t be on the roads baby.”

“You didn’t mind me drivin’ here did you?” ”You can sleep it off.”

“My son, he don’t need”

Her words dript off and away. For a moment I thought she was gone again, that Mr. Smiles had won. He and momma would have their talk after all.

“I’ve got blankets and a couch. He can play video games.”

“Video games?”

She look’t over in my general direction. For the first time that night Momma snorted. I guess Nate won’t the only one after all.

“Video games.”

And my Momma flash’t her own beautiful brights back at Mr. Smiles.

“Nighty night Pac Man.”

8.

Leake didn’t know how they found home and bed, but they did. The next morning his momma fought running eggs and calcined toast; a dry white hangover and gummied lips. She only said 4 words before Leake was off for the bus; a bleary, bearish sort of day.

“Don’t tell Nate.”

“I won’t.”

She pinched his arm.

“Promise.”

“I promise. Ow.”

And Leake kept his promise. Through the week anyway.

9.

That next Saturday Nate and Numa got into it early. As was his wont when daylight still simmered and he’d had enough, Nate went for a trailer park stroll. He grabbed his pink fedora with the plum band and the silver feather. He lit a cigar. The boys didn’t want to be around Numa in her current high temperature, so they went with Nate.

As they walked along, Leake thought Nate seemed lower than usual. Blue, like the hell-catting had wore him down.

His mustache kind of drooped. Leake knew just the something to cheer him up.

“She loves you Nate.”

“Not today she don’t”

“No, I mean it. She came home to you.”

Nate stopped, sliding his hands into the frayed pockets of his bib overalls.

“What?”

“Promise not to tell?”

“Tell what?”

“Promise.”

“Alright. I promise. What is it Leake?”

And so Leake flicked Numa’s secret up into open air. They stood in the middle of the gravel road, a half-mile out. Nate sucked on his cigar, blowing tight cloud puffs, and Leake told all. At last he reached the story’s moral: “She didn’t stay. He wanted her to so they could talk, but she didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted to take me home. She came home too. Because you’re the only one she talks with Nate.”

Nate let the cigar nub drop straight out of his mouth. He twisted it down into asphalt and grit with the heel of a camel-hide boot.

“Well come on then.”

“Sir?”

“We’re goin’ back home.”

“But you promised!”

When they got back to the trailer, Leake pressed Nate’s hand with his own.

“Don’t tell Nate! Please! She’ll whoop me! You know she will!”

“She won’t lay a finger on you Leake. But you boys better stay out here for a minute. Me and Numa gon’ talk.”

Nate lit another cigar. Leake croaked out “She did it cause she loves you!” understanding no more now what he’d done than when he’d started the barrel rolling to begin with. Leake and Teagie stood side to side, watching Nate walk in. They listened.

It started out all Numa -- holler and cuss. She thought they were just picking up where the earlier round had left off. But when she finally wound down to catch her breath, Nate had his say. He didn’t raise his voice. The boys couldn’t hear what he told her, but that didn’t matter, since they already knew. There was an arid pause, then the thick snap of hand on face.

Leake jumped forward, out of instinct and habit. Teagie held him back. Numa wasn’t hollering now. But her voice being pitched to a higher key, they caught it all.

“Nate it aint true. Nate, he was just mixed up. I shouldn’t had him out that late. Nate.”

If she had hollered it, Nate might have believed her. But it wasn’t till the screen door slammed in her face that she recovered her true voice.

“NATE!”

He shuffled over to the boys.

“Come on Teagie, we goin’ out.”

Leake ran after Nate, tugging at his sleeve.

“What about me?”

Nate paused, squeezing his teeth around the fresh burning cigar.

“Your momma needs you more than me son.”

He eyed the trailer, then turned back to Leake, still tugging. “Besides, Leake, my boy won’t tell on me.”

10.

As Nate rode Old Gray into a hemorrhaging dusk, the trailer window snapped up.

“Nate! He’s a lyin’ little tattle-tale bastard! Nate!”

But Nate was gone. The eyeliner streaked her face, black tributes now lacking in river. Her gold bleached hair splayed against the darkness of the trailer’s pulsing guts. The mother saw her Leake standing in the dust. She said “Thank you boy. You stupid son of a bitch.” as calm as if she’d just ordered her next Jack and Coke.

Numa snapped the window shut.

Leake didn’t know what to do. Well, he wanted to play Atari.

Or at least watch the Saturday night TV movie. But Numa was inside. Throwing furniture, slandering walls, expectorating hell’s grim fire. Leake wasn’t old enough to drive but he had two feet.

As old monkey sun burnt out a day’s end, Li’l boy blue skipped o’er an ashen bend.

Along rolled the ale can, twisted, in the wind.

Blue hopped up, plopped flat, skipped again.