Chapter 8: Eight

Mercedes was quiet, eyeing them both piercingly. She didn’t look angry, though. She looked sad. That was worse. A lot worse.

“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Klein said.

Mercedes kept looking at them both, first one and then the other.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” Klein said.

“I’m not the one you owe an apology too, Mr. Klein.”

Klein had nothing to say to that, and he was quiet the whole way to the car. Miller took a right turn leaving the parking lot, and still Klein was quiet. He only spoke when Miller parked.

“What are we doing?” Klein asked.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

He used the whole minute up getting out of the van. He’d been switching off and on wearing the brace. This day it was on, and while it kept the constant throbbing at bay, he still had to be careful. He didn’t mind taking it slow, though. Klein would be fine waiting in the van, and the weather was doing him a lot of good. It was crisp, but not cold, and the sun was out, taking the edge off his anxiety.

Inside Speedy’s was much less calming. There was a thick crowd, a lot of then teens and young children. Three little boys bumped into him in a row, causing him to pivot repeatedly on his bad knee. Only the third one apologized, and it seemed their parents were nowhere in sight. He shrugged it off and got in line. Ana waved at him. The store was mostly cleared out by the time he got to the register.

“Where’s Marisol?” Miller asked. 

“She quit,” Ana replied.

Miller nodded. “Onward and upward, eh?”

Ana shrugged. “So she says. We’ll see.”

“Well, give her time. Growin’ up is a work in progress.”

Ana looked around her store. “Tell me about it. I thought I was making a responsible decision to quit school and start work early. Now look at me. Forty years old and working in a convenience store.”

“That you own. That counts for something.”

She faked a laugh. “It doesn’t change what I do. I think sometimes that I’m jealous of my daughter.”

“It sure is easier to flap your wings when you’re still in the nest.”

She laughed for real. “So, where’s Klein?”

“In the van. He’s having a rough time. I thought I’d surprise him with some poppers.”

Ana smiled. “Sure thing.”

Miller tried to avoid looking down her shirt while she bent down over the hot case. Somehow seeing her was giving him a sad feeling.

Why couldn’t I have ended up with one like her, he thought. Then the answer hit him, that nobody ends up anywhere. I made my choice.

“Your boys oughta be working age soon,” he said to distract himself.

She laughed again as she rang him up. “Back home, maybe. But not here.”

Miller faked a chuckle. “Yeah, I thought Oscar might have been. I guess he’s still got a few years. Oh geez,” then he laughed for real as she stuffed the bag to the brim, emptying the hot case completely.

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“On the house. You both deserve some poppers.”

Miller smiled as big as he could. “Thanks Ana.”

He took two steps out the door when the same three boys ran past him. The third one hit the bag with his head and the poppers went flying out into the street.

“Sorry!” He shouted. 

Miller wanted to grab him by the scruff, or shout a warning at least, but all he could do was stand there with the pain in his knee. He dug his nails into his palms, but it didn’t do him any good, and he found himself fuming all the way to the van.

Klein looked ten times as upset as he was before. Miller wasn’t looking forward to telling him about the poppers.

“Why were you gone so long?” Klein asked, mad as hell.

Miller was about to explain the whole scene, but the smell told him why Klein was so upset. 

“I’m sorry, buddy.” He buckled his seatbelt and hurried onto the road, then rolled down the window once they were in traffic and up to speed. They said nothing, and Miller parked the van in the back of their lot where the old oaks grew. He got the towel out of the emergency kit he kept in the back of the van, and wrapped it around Klein’s waist before helping him into his chair. Klein’s ride down the van’s ramp and onto the parking lot seemed to take hours. Miller felt like he’d been punched in the gut seeing Klein wait there dejectedly while he parked the van on the street. 

It was as quiet of a day as Miller could remember. He drew Klein a bath, put his pants and boxers in the wash, and went to the kitchen where he put more sugar than a man should be allowed to ingest into the last packet of tea. Passing the utility closet on the way to the bathroom, he thought to himself that the washer and dryer were the one saving grace of their tiny apartment. That and of course the uncommonly low rent.

“I’n not wearing them!” Klein shouted before Miller even entered the bathroom.

Miller put up his hands and looked around the cramped room. “Did someone try to change your mind? ‘Cos I sure didn’t say anything.” 

He took the van to the car wash after Klein’s bath and wiped the seat clean himself, then stopped at the mini mart down the road to buy some more tea. It was so expensive Miller decided to go to the grocery store. He called Klein to tell him he’d be out for a little longer, but Klein didn’t answer. 

It was almost dark when Miller pulled into the parking lot. The days were starting to get a little longer, but the air still had some bite. He zipped his jacket and warmed his hands, which made him feel silly as he was in shorts. The clerks on their smoke break nodded to him politely, but he didn’t like being away from Klein on this sort of a day, so he walked on by as fast as he could and went first to get some lotion and baby powder, and then to the tea isle. The shelf was well stocked with everything but what he was there for. 

He went to the frozen food aisle to buy some microwavable poppers, but there was nothing but weird things that no one ever bought. The same was true of the ice cream, candy and even potato chips. Miller wanted to scream. Instead, he bought what he had and went home. Klein was asleep in his chair. Miller got him into bed, then almost made it to the couch. But a wild hair stuck in him and minutes later he was in his van heading to a place he swore he’d never go back to.

He had found out what Klein’s sister did for work by sheer accident. He really never went to strip clubs but for a couple of times. When Klein first opened up about bis family, Miller had a picture of her in his head long before he finished describing her. The curiously low hairline is what sealed it for him, and Miller never said a word. But he did say something to her.

“Actually,” he told her after setting seventy-five dollars on the table, “I wanted to talk. I think we have a mutual acquaintance.”

“Oh yeah?” She said. She decided to dance as they talked, but stopped abruptly when he mentioned Klein. Seconds later he was escorted out the door, and after counting his bruises he figured Klein owed him an explanation.

“Dad worked hard,” Klein told him, “And so did mom. But then mom got sick and dad had to take on a second job. It was killing him, and Tia couldn’t stand it. She told us she was selling cars. Dad was too distracted or tired to check where. I guessed what she was doing.”

And Miller tried carefully to word his question gently, but in the end, he just asked Klein if she’d always been the type. 

“The type?”

“Well, I don’t mean anything by that. It’s just most girls don’t jump into that field on a hunch.”

He never got an answer out of him, just a sincere request not to ever go see her again or try to arrange a reunion. Eventually Klein opened up a little more, and told him how she’d come home at ten in the morning, eat the breakfast he’d made and left out for her, then tell him things no sibling should say. Slurs were her go-to. And she would taunt him with “When you gon’ get yo crippled ass laid?” It wasn’t long before she tried to get him hooked on drugs, porn, you name it. Not every girl was the type to dance for a living, but Tia was a type all on her own.

Miller sat in the parking lot of The C Section long enough to get noticed. He didn't recognize the bouncers, but they came and went, so he wasn’t surprised. He sat there despite their looks, working up the nerve to go in. It never sat right, going to places like that after raising his girls the way he did. And he didn’t know if Tia still danced at this club or not. 

At the door, he found himself unable to go in. He asked if ‘Tygress’ was dancing that night, not too nervous what the bouncers might think as plenty of guys had their favorites. The bouncers, both young fellas, seemed calm and earnest, and told him that she’d quit and went to another club about a month ago. Miller wasn’t disappointed. She was the last person on Earth he wanted to see again. 

His sleep was decent that night, despite the chaos of the day, but the morning was another story. There was a loud rapping on the door that didn’t stop until he opened it. It was her.

 

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