Kesey, Roy

English

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Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal Volume 4 Issue 2 Article 7 January 2005 Blind Spot Roy Kesey Follow this and additional works at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate Recommended Citation Kesey, Roy (2005) "Blind Spot," Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal: Vol. 4: Iss. 2, Article 7. Available at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol4/iss2/7 This Fiction is brought to you for free and open access by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). It has been accepted for inclusion in Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal by an authorized editor of The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). For more information, please contact ORB@binghamton.edu. Bu o SroT Roy Kesey Ir's ea rly, just barely light, and driving to work I get the feel ing again, a car hanging right in my blind spot. 1 whip around but the st reet is empty a fa r back a I can see. T har's always how it happens. Things go bad sometimes. A few minutes later the feeling comes aga in, and I check my mirrors, catch a glimp e of a dented grill. I've never gotten a good look at the car, so I'm not sure how I know it' a b lue convertible. I've never seen the driver, no idea who he i , bur he's been showing up mo re and mo re often, curring it clo er and closer. I whip around aga in and the street is stil l empty and you don't have to tell me how weird chi i . I know how weird it is. I get to the warehouse, shut off the engine and just it quiet until Goar pulls up alongside. Yesterday O ld Red sent Goat and me to the docks to see about a crate; it went a little ro ugh, and Goar got his a rm broken, and now he's wearing o ne of those ftbe rglass casts, o nly chi one's bright o range, so I ha le him a bir. We go inside and say hi to Yid and Marry. obody wams poker or rummy chis ea rly, o we just sit there and moke. Something's happening, no question, bur we never get told until it's time to go, and for the moment we're twitchy li ke pider. We watch seagulls for a while. We watch rug and scows. We tel l stories and ask each other what about lunch, and t hen O ld Red comes out of the office, wave me and Yid ro the utlas , tells me to drive. - I go t a thing in my eye, I say. - W h at kind of thing? says Yid. - I do n't know, maybe some sawdust. - You got a hankie, so use it, says O ld Red . - Y id knows how co d rive coo, I say. - If I wanted Yid co d rive, I'd have cold h im co drive. I rake our my hankie and pretend fo r a second, get in and I 6 HARPUR PAUTE 1Kesey: Blind SpotPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2005start the engine, and we're not ten minutes out when that fucke r in the blue convertible I ides into my blind spot again . - Take a right at the light, says O ld Red. I nod, signal, catch a glint off [he convertible' wind hield, look back at the empry lane, look again fa t and there' rill nothing there. I ease over, make che turn and peed up. - Since when do you drive li ke a hundred year old? ay Vid. - Leave him alone, says Old Red. So he knows something's wrong, which i n't what either of u need ; Old Red alway ha ching on hi mind but lately it' been worse. He points us down to a C hinese restaurant with dirry window and peeling paint. In che back there's fifty or sixry small boxes wrapped tight. T hen chere' ome kind of problem, and before things get cleared up I rake a hot ro the no e, give me a real gusher, but it's mostly stopped by the time we get back to the warehouse. obody reach you to duck? ays Goat. I look at him and he goe back to watching eagull until Old Red comes and tells us to unload. He leaves with Marry and Vid, and it rakes Goar and me almo t an hour to put all the boxe away. I get home around nine, and my boy Angus is sitting on che floor in the living room, staring at the sofa. He isn't wea ring his hearing aid which mean it' broken again . I put the bag on the shelf in the closet, shut che door hard, and he rnrn right around. The thing on his chest is infected again and leaking through hi shirr, and agajn there' chis watery white ruff dribbling our of his eyes. As soon as he realizes it' me he tart linging hi arm around. It's the same fight as always getting him out ofhi clothe and into the bath; since Janey left things have been harder than I'd have choughr. U ua.lly che warm water calms him bur tonight he's still at it with the arms, swinging and winging, crying ro tell H ARJ>UR PAUTE 17 2Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 4, Iss. 2 [2005], Art. 7https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol4/iss2/7me somerhing. Ir's nor unril I look in rhe mirror rhar I see whar he's gerring ar: there's srill some dried blood in my mou rache. I rel! him ir looks wor e rhan ir feels , which of cour e he can't hear. I rinse rhe blood our and he quiers down , bur ir rake me ren minure wirh a washcloth roger che rhing on hi che r clean. Ir looks li ke a chunk of bad lung sricking our, all morrled pink and gray, bur ir feels more like rubber, hard and moorh. Angu i rhe only one I've told all rhe stories to-I don't imagine too many derai ls rick in wharever he's gor of a brain, and he can't ralk anyway. I wipe his eyes, pull him our and dry him off, cover rhe rhing on hi che r wirh cream and gauze and rape, ger him into his pajamas. I hear up rwo rurkey dinners in rhe microwave and carry Angus to his special chair. We ear and warch ome relevision, and rhen Angus wanrs someching bur I can'r rel! whar. He doesn't make any noise, jusr flaps his hand , open and clo e hi mourh. I rake down his pens and some paper, and rhar's nor ir; I rake down his model F- 16 rhar I did for him, and rhar's nor it eirher. I carry him room ro room, trying to ger him to point, bur skinny as he is he weighs maybe a hundred and ren, and I can't keep it up for long. Finally I leave him on hi marrre on rhe floor, get in to bed and Ii ren for hours to his hands slapping rhe wall. There was a dream, something big and white and poinry bur now ir's gone and I'm !are fo r work and Angus i ri ll ar ir against che wa.11 , lap lap lap. I grab his wrist to make him stop, carry him to rhe bathroom, wash rhe blood off his hand , more cream, more gauze, and ask him real loud where hi hearing aid is. He doesn't understand or doesn't wanr to. I draw a picrure ofir, ridiculous, looks like a cashew bur he gers ir, poinr our rhe window. He gers angry like char omerime , rhrow ruff around, and rhere's norhing you can do. I go and look. Ir's a long way down to rhe alley. T he thing on his chesr looks berrer and his eyes are clean. 3Kesey: Blind SpotPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2005I get his breakfast on a tray on the Aoor, do up a sandwich fo r hi lunch and stick it on the bottom shelf of rhe refri gera ror. He looks at me, and I tell him I'm sorry, prop him up against the sofa, grab an apple, hi r the rair . Everybody's waiting. I ruck my shirr in and rel! O ld Red char I'm sorry for being late. He nods, cocks his head kind of funny, asks me ro rel! him abour ir- ftr sr rime ch is ha ever happened, and somethi ng's nor righr. I rel! him, Angus again, rhe hearing aid again, and O ld Red mile . - Tell me more, he ays. Goar and Vid are raring at the Aoor, and Marry is fooling with a burrerAy kni fe , cl ickery-cl ick, back and forth. T here' nothing ro do bur srarr in about Angus's eye , bur then O ld Red curs me off, says he doe n'r want ro hear ir. I ay I know and I'm sorry and he points ar rhe wheel of rhe Curia . Ir's a pawnshop rhi rime, only a couple of blocks away. We all ger our, and O ld Red passe crowbar around . T he owner sees us coming and heads fo r rhe back, and we wing and wing until everyrhing's in pieces. I hang back as we leave, hoping omeone else wil l ger the wheel for once, bur they're all just standing around rhe car, and Old Red nod ar me. I hrug, get in, put on my earbelr. - What the hell ? ay Vid . O ld Red shakes his head, tell me not ro waste any rime. I pull our, and the blue convertible i already tucked in right behind us. I rry nor ro look, nor even ar rhe mirror , bur at rhe intersection there' a nudge and I wrench the wheel, side wipe a delivery truck, and now we're on the idewalk fac ing the wrong way, a crate busted open and oranges rolling everywhere. People gather, point, argue about what they aw. O ld Red grabs me, makes me look in his eye . Vid and Marry are yelling, and Goar rells them ro shut the fuck up. Old Red reache aero me, open my door, cell me ro go rraighr home and ray rhere until he calls. I rake off my earbelr and ger our. O ld Red slide over and guns rhe engine, pull away. T here' a iren getting clo er. I HARPUR PAUTF 19 4Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 4, Iss. 2 [2005], Art. 7https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol4/iss2/7keep my head down, pick up a couple of orange and pu h inro the crowd. Saturday I take Angus ro the clinic, and there's mildew on the ceiling, a roach in the bathroom, the ou nd of rat in the wal ls as we wait. I've brought his pens, pull wrappers out of the rra h fo r paper; he pick a red marker, hold it like an ice-pick and I move hi hand in circles. T hi i maybe hi favo rite thing. We wait an hour and then get rold the ear docror didn't come in roday, nor char it matter with what hearing aid co t, but rill. So we go ro another waiting room and draw more circles and gee hi che t looked at, and hi eyes. The nur e has a piece of old lenuce caught in the pocket of her uniform. he cell me I need robe a li ttle more careful with ba ic hygiene, and I say chat one bath a day is the bes t I can do. he nods and ays char' nor enough, and she can't give me any more cream unless I pay fo r it, which I do with most of this week's food money. I steal half a roll of gauze from a care, and the receptioni t wave a we leave, says she hopes everything turns our okay. O n the way home the convertible lip inco place. I drive a perfect line, keep a con cane speed, then swerve left and brake and spin fo r a look. Of course the lane i empty, and l 've wrenched Angu ' neck, and there' tuff in hi eye again. Back at the apartmenc there's nothing in the freezer o I make rice and a packet of gravy. T his is fine with him. We watch the new , and then I take out the Twister; he loves the colors, and we've changed the rules ro make it fair. I do all the spinning, rake position, and wait fo r him ro reach. Finally I get an impo ible left-foot yellow, collapse on rop of him bur oft, and he laughs and laughs and laughs. Right at kick-off the phone rings, and I wait ro watch 20 HARPUR PALATE 5Kesey: Blind SpotPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2005the run-back bur the kid get ru ffed at t he eighteen. I an wer, and ir's O ld Red. H e says he needs me, says there's extra mo ney in it. I look at Angus, and he's sta ring at the cheerleader . I tell Old Red I'll be there in rwenry mi nute, he say ten, and I look around for my shoes. Everybody's there. Old Red tell Vid ro drive, and I end up squashed between M arry and Goar in back. obody ta lks. I crane my neck, pretend ro watch the scenery- rreer-dog , wino , rra h. Finally we srop at a chop-shop we've worked with for yea r , and somerhing's coming bur ir' hard ro tell what. Goar has the key, get the door open. We walk in, and when O ld Red hu t the door it's roo dark ro see. Vid nudges me fo rward , and I put my hand our, crack my hin on maybe a muffie r, and Vid nudges m e again. Al l rhe way ro the back, and here there's a w indow, nor much ligh t bur a little. T here's a big metal ba rrel and a bunch of plas tic jug . Marry opens a jug, pours it inro rhe barrel, and rhe smell rakes me a second bur then I know: acid . We watch M arry pour maybe ten jugs, and Vid and Goar are right against my shoulders. O ld Red stares our the window. A last few jugs. Old Red ask m e what I d id with the box. - What box? - Quit fucking around . - We put chem in the-- I know. And one is gone. You thought maybe you could set up a little busines o n the ide? - I don't have the fa intest-- Yo u're rhe o nly o ne in bad eno ugh shape to do omerhing that srupid . Conversat ion's over. Marry? - At least let m e call my wife . - You fucking hare your w ife , ay Vid. - I never said I hared her. - You never said you loved her. - o , bur she' ll rak e care of Angu if I a k her. Old Red waves us quiet, shakes his head , looks over at Marry and nods. HARPUR PAL.ATE 2 1 6Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 4, Iss. 2 [2005], Art. 7https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol4/iss2/7- T hen lee me call Angus instead. - He can answer rhe phone? - I rigged ir pecial fo r him. O ld Red chinks chis over, cells Goar to give me hi cell phone. Goar says ir coses a dollar a call and there' a perfec tly good regular phone right there on rhe workbench. Marry pick up the receiver, listens, hands ir co me. I dial, wait, drill Marry in the temple, pull him in right and spin. He carche O ld Red 's bullet, and I'm up on rhe workbench and rhrough rhe window, glass jagging deep in to my arms, and I'm scrambling and up and into rhe srreer, heavy traffic both way , a lirtle red pick-up skid and spills me bur I'm up again, haul the driver our, and there' maybe a chance I'll bear chem back to rhe house. I'm bleeding al l over rhe ear bur there's no rime for any of ir, runnel and dark, bridge and light, hitting all rhe seams, a couple of stoplight bur only rhe lase one goes red a l nea r and I gun straight rhrough, dodge some kid on a bike, hard left and up to my bu ilding. My fingers aren't working so well and ir rakes me five cries wi rh the keys, finall y in a rhe C utlass slides up, rams rhe pick-up, and I gee rhe door locked behind me bur of course ir won't hold long. Up and up and up, I kick down my door, and Angus i curled on the floor, so much ruff in hi eye he can'r even see. I pick him up, grab rhe box our of rhe bag in the clo er, and head fo r rhe window. I bang it open with my elbow, no fi re escape bur a drainpipe, Angus wail ing and swinging under one arm and the box right under rhe ocher, and we lide, down a floor, another, dark red stains all over rhe wall. l feel my hand start to go, cinch Angus to my chest and then there' nothing left and we're falling, a scrip of ky above us going chin and then we hie. T here's no sound, and I can't breathe, can'r feel anything. Then I hear a car engine, low and smooch. A moment lacer rhe blue convertible pulls up. Tr scops, and a door opens, bur now Angus is writhing on top of me, and he eem okay bur I can't move my arms, can't hold him righrer or ler go. 22 HARPUR PALATE 7Kesey: Blind SpotPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2005

Blind Spot

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Blind Spot

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