Michael Martone - Alive and Dead in Indiana

Everybody’s sitting in the dark. Up there in the ceiling they got the little lights that are supposed to be stars. Palm trees in pots up there on the sides of the stage. Ushers in monkey suits by the fire doors. It’s like in Mooresville at the Friends with everybody sitting and waiting for somebody to get up and talk. I could stand up here and tell them a story. Mrs. Mint is the only one who knows, and she’s worried about getting back to Romania, thanks to the house she ran in Gary.

She treats me square. No trouble when I stay with Patty. And Patty, still married to the cop, doesn’t have a clue.

Thanks me every time she smiles because I’m the one who got her teeth fixed for her.

Smiling at me in the dark.

Jimmie , she says, when you going to take off those sunglasses. You can’t see the movie . She likes a man who carries a gun, but she can’t say why.

The girls down where Patty works all tell her I look like him. I just laugh, buy her a diamond, tell her I work for the Board of Trade.

There’s a guy named Ralph Alsman’s arrested all the time because he looks like him. The story’s in the papers. How he keeps robbing banks.

There’s nothing better to do. Rob a bank, go to a movie, buy a paper. It’s all the same.

I read the paper all the time, and I start out thinking I don’t know the man. Then I think that could be me.

You have to keep your mind busy or you go nuts. Think of Homer beating it by tying string to flies he caught while he stood time on the mats in Pendleton. You go nuts without something to do. You buy a little time out of the heat.

I bet the girls wouldn’t know what to do if I was him. Wouldn’t want me to really be him. It only gives them something to talk about without no customers while Patty’s putting on her hat and I’m leaning in the doorway waiting for her to blow.

I like Patty good enough, with her smile and all. She is nice and heavy leaning on my arm when we walk on the street. My hand will be in my pocket on the gun, and I’ll tap her leg with it through the clothes. She’ll smile. Our secret. My husband , she says, only has the revolver they gave him .

I like Patty. She’ll do for now. But she’s not Terry.

Sometimes, I think I see Terry in the Loop when I’m down there with a bag of corn feeding pigeons. Out of the house pretending I’m working. I’ll be looking at the birds and her legs will walk by and I’ll follow them up and something will go wrong.

I want to ask the doll where she got those legs from, but they just clip along through the crowd of strutting pigeons.

It’s like that with a day to kill downtown. Her hand waving for a cab. And in the store windows, I see all the things I could buy that she would like. And all the other women, their hair thrown off their forehead just like hers, tilting their heads and thinking that the stuff they see will make them look like Terry. I can’t go and get her. South Bend wasn’t enough, and they’ve hidden her in some county jail. For harboring.

There has been a fire on a boat that had a party going on it. A little boy in a sailor hat is crying behind a glass window. It’s beginning to fill with smoke in there, and you can’t hear him cry. People are jumping off the ship. The railings are giving out, and people are falling into the water. There is a priest swimming with the boys. And then it is night, and the moon is shining, and the burning ship is shining on the water. Along the shore bodies are washing up, and people and police are looking through them .

So, you’re out , Pete is saying as we drive south out of Lima. They’ll go up to the farm while we’ll go down to Cincinnati .

You’re out , I say. I hadn’t seen them since I got parole. I was in Lima by the time they broke Michigan City. Dumb. I see you got my message , I say.

We’re laughing. There he was standing at the dayroom door. Too many pistols. Too many shots had been fired. Terry would be at the house.

Thanks .

Mac is reading off directions. Left here, right, right here. Something they learned from Baron Lamm’s gang. In the dark. Clark is sucking on his fingers. He shot himself. Kind of rusty , he is saying, his finger in his mouth. The sheriff didn’t look too good.

We told him , Pete said, that we were Indiana state parole officers . Mac laughs. He didn’t believe us . They laugh. Nervous.

You’re out. You’re out , I say.

You should’ve not locked up the sheriff’s wife , Mac says. Right here .

I tell you he’ll be all right , Pete says.

It’s going to be tough watching him die from across the room and behind bars , Mac says.

It’s not that bad. He’ll be okay .

He’d been square with me. The food is good .

There’s just no going back , somebody says in the dark.

The sun is just getting into people’s eyes. The light going all one color on the store windows. Mothers yanking the kids on trolleys to get them home in time to make supper. It takes longer for the men to get off and on the Toledo scales by the door. Harder to think. Almost time to go home. Not enough time to start something new. The tellers begin stacking the coins, and the hack’s in the basement looking for work.

When we were together around a kitchen table planning a job, drinking beers but no hard stuff, and it would come that time of day, why, we’d all know it. And someone goes to the window and looks out, another stretches out on the davenport, reads the morning papers again. Not working.

After getting out of the pen we’d show up at the bank, 2:45 on medot. The bank was closed. Closed from Roosevelt’s holiday and never opened. We’d stand there, heavy in the vests and the guns. Looking through the bars and then looking real quick to see if anyone has seen us. Time thrown all off by something that happened years ago when we weren’t in the world.

I hear in Mexico they go to sleep all the afternoon.

It’s too hot for anything, even robbing the banks.

Then there are just two pair of hands. Blackie’s throwing dice, shuffling cards, and counting poker chips. Jim’s writing, turning pages in a book, and accepting a law degree. Then just Blackie’s hands, his fingers tapping on a felt-covered table, waiting for the cards to be dealt. Then Blackie spreading the cards in his hand, looking them over and getting ready to bet .

Somewhere in the Wisconsin countryside and Pete saying, That’s it . I’m feeling pretty good. We could be anywhere now. The fields all gleaned. Some shocks still standing. It’s a big Buick, and the cold wind is blowing through it since we’ve taken out the windows.

We’re going to take them to the hideout , says Mac, kidding.

Meaning the two citizens we have.

Can you cook? I am asking the lady without smiling.

She’s wearing Pete’s coat. The fellow’s got on Pete’s hat.

Pete’s not even cold.

After a fashion , says the lady.

So we go along watching the phone wires. Down to two and then one. Birds all puffed up on them. Then no wires at all, just the fields and the white sky.

Pete runs them out into a turned field. Mac changes the plates. Pete turns them away, back to the wind. The three of them out in the big field. Pete ties their hands and then he comes back half the way, stops and goes back to get his hat and coat.

After Greencastle, we could kick back. It had been Homecoming weekend at the college, and the stores were making big deposits. Pete feeling grand. I say to him, Why don’t we move in with you two and share a place? He says, Sure , without asking the girls. At the Clarendon, we carried the bags with the guns while the boy took the rest. Margaret set out right away to bake the new money. Crumbling the bills as we made fists, then smoothing them out. All the time we talked about what to do next. Not thinking about it at all. It takes time for new money to get old. But it all fell apart when Terry didn’t do her bit. She sat and made up for hours though we weren’t going anywhere. One day there was no breakfast on the table. What gives?