Chris Whitaker - We Begin at the End

“You want to call me, if it happens again?”

“Dallas Stoudenmire killed three men in five seconds. I think I can handle one.” She shifted her weight and leaned on one hip, then moved nearer and sat on the bottom step, five down from him.

He turned and bent and began to sand again, sweeping his hand, even, firm. She reached out, took the other block and got to work on her step.

“How come you don’t sell this shitty house?”

He knelt like he was praying before the old place.

“People say … I mean, I heard them in Rosie’s and they were saying you could get a million bucks or something crazy. And you want to stay here.”

He looked behind at the house, for so long it was like he could see something she could not. “My great-grandfather built this house. This town, Cape Haven, when Walk drove me in I was glad I still knew parts of it. It’s not just the vacationers that changed, it’s …” He paused like he did not know what to say. “I didn’t think I was all bad, back then. When I see it, when I look back that far I see someone that wasn’t all bad.”

“And now?”

“Prison has a way of turning the light out. And this house it’s … a small flame maybe, but it’s still burning. If I let it go, if I let that last light go, then it’s all dark, and I won’t be able to see it anymore.”

“See what?”

“You ever think people look at you but don’t really see you?”

She let that sit. Fussed with her bow, tucked her lace into her sneaker. “What happened to Sissy?”

He stopped again, this time sat back, one arm in the sun, eyes squint to her. “Your mother didn’t tell you?”

“I want you to tell me.”

“I took my brother’s car out.”

“Where was he?”

“He went to war. You know about Vietnam?”

“Yes.”

“I wanted to impress a girl so I took her out in the car.”

She knew who the girl was.

“After I dropped her home I drove Cabrillo—you know the bend by the town sign?”

“Yes.”

He spoke quiet. “I didn’t know I’d hit her. I didn’t even slow.”

“Why was she out?”

“She was looking for her sister. Your grandfather, he worked nights sometimes, that factory, Tallow Construction. That still there?”

She shrugged. “Just about.”

“So he slept the days off. Star was in charge of her.”

“But Star wasn’t there.”

“I called her. We had a couple beers. Us, and Walk and Martha May. You know her?”

“No.”

“I lost track of time. She’d left Sissy in front of the television set.” His voice had no depth. The rote recital that made her wonder what was left of him.

“How did they find you?”

“I think Walk was a cop even back then. He came to my place that same night. Saw the car, the damage.”

They worked on in silence. She grit her teeth and smoothed the wood, so hard her shoulder pained.

“You need to look out for yourself,” he said. “I know that kind. Darke. I saw men like that, something in the eyes, not right.”

“I’m not scared. I’m tough.”

“I know.”

“You don’t.”

“You have a brother to look out for. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I lock our bedroom door so he doesn’t see nothing. And anything he hears he chalks to bad dreams.”

“You lock him inside, is that safe?”

“Safer than what’s outside.”

She watched him then, his mind far, like he was weighing something heavy.

A while before he finally met her eye. “You’re an outlaw?”

“I am.”

“Then give me a minute. I’ve got something for you.”

She watched him go, into the house, and she wondered about absolution. She knew reprieve was a temporary notion, so fleeting when she saw him return it was like watching a dead man walking.

8

“SOMETIMES I THINK SHE HATES me.”

Walk glanced at Star but she did not look back. There was a calm to her that morning, he knew it would not last.

“She’s a teenager.”

“You really believe that’s all it is, Walk? I don’t need bullshit, not from you.”

As they passed Brandon Rock’s place Walk saw the drapes move, and then Brandon was out. He fought the limp, mouth tight as he crossed the yard. Walk stalled a little and Star sighed.

“Morning.” Brandon smiled at Star.

“You woke half the street again, Brandon. You best fix that engine or Duchess will come out and do it for you.”

“That’s a 1967—”

“I know what car it is.Your father’s car, same car you’ve been working on for the past twenty years. I even saw you talking about the fucking thing in the local newspaper.”

The spread had been crude, a local lives spot buried near the classifieds. Brandon talked pistons for half a page then lay across the hood, hair feathered, pouting lips. Duchess had defaced their copy with a marker then taped it to Brandon’s front gate.

“It’ll be fixed up in time for July 4th. So I was wondering if you wanted to head up to Clearwater Cove. I could make us a picnic. Twinkies, right. You like Twinkies. Pineapple chicken. I even got a fondue pot.” He carried his dumbbell, curling, the veins in his right arm popping.

“I don’t want to date you, Brandon. You’ve been asking me out since high school and it’s getting tired.”

“You know one of these days I’ll just give up on you, Star.”

“Can I have that in writing?”

She took Walk’s arm, strolled on.

“He still thinks we’re in high school,” Star said.

“And he’s still sore about losing you to Vincent.”

When they reached the end of Ivy Ranch Road he looked back, and saw Brandon Rock still standing there, staring after them.

They walked, a weekly ritual that had gone on near a decade. Walk stopped by on a Monday morning and made sure Star got out of the house and talked. It wasn’t much, but sometimes he thought that routine was good for her. If she wouldn’t talk to a shrink, she could talk to him.

“So, how is he?”

“He’s alright.”

She squinted. “What the fuck does that mean, Walk? Alright. Give me something.”

“I heard. About what happened the other night.”

“My hero, right. I had it under control. I don’t need Vincent fucking King showing up to fight my battles.”

“He used to fight all of our battles. Remember when the Johnson boy thought I stole his bike.”

Star laughed. “Like you’d steal anything.”

“He was big.”

“Not big enough to take Vincent. I liked that about him. He was tough, but only we saw beneath it. Sissy used to love him. We’d be on the couch and she’d come and jam in between us. He spent time with her, you know. Took her drawings home and kept them.”

“I remember.”

“You remember everything, Walk.”

“Why’d you let him round? Darke. He’s not right.”

“It’s nothing, not what you think. I got pissed with him. I started it. It’s forgotten. I’m pulling a shift at the club tonight.”

At the corner of Sunset he stalled a little, and she glanced past him at the King house. He let her lead, and she led them away and down toward the beach. Cars passed, then an SUV. He saw it was Ed Tallow, raised a hand but Ed’s eyes didn’t stray from Star as he passed.

Walk loosened his tie as Star kicked off her sandals and stepped onto the hot sand. He followed, his shoes filling as she raced toward the water, heels kicking up as they burned. She stopped ankle deep and laughed as he plodded his way to her.

They strolled the line.

“I know I’m failing, Walk.”

“You’re not—”

“I know I’m fucking up the one thing I’m supposed to be good at.”

“Duchess loves you. She’s a handful, but I see the way she looks out for you. And Robin—”