Richard Ford - The Ultimate Good Luck

Bernhardt shook his head and smiled, then looked at Rae. “In the morning we will go to the prison with your wife,” he said. “Don’t worry.” He inched off into the traffic leaving Quinn alone on the street.

AT THE BUNGALOW he went straight to the money. The tiles were in place, and the grouting was firmed. It seemed too obvious a trick to pull, though he wasn’t exactly sure, here, if he could recognize the obvious. But the tiles made him feel like he could trust Bernhardt, since if Bernhardt had wanted the money this would’ve been the easy way.

Rae sat on the davenport in the dark. He turned off the bathroom light and stood in the doorway where he could see out the window down the hill. The place he had been was straight off, beyond the Centro lights, below the distinguishable dark of Monte Albán. It was a place that didn’t exist now.

“Did you think somebody was going to steal your money?” she said. She was calm, as though things were all happening to somebody else.

“There’s that chance,” he said.

“Are you worried?” Rae said. She shifted her weight on the davenport.

“Not yet,” he said. There wasn’t any reason to think anything but that Bernhardt was getting Sonny out of the joint. Sonny either got out or he didn’t. Quinn wondered what Deats was doing, what was happening to him at that very moment.

“Is Bernhardt worried?” she said.

“He’s not a worrier,” Quinn said.

“It scares me,” Rae said, though her voice sounded encouraged. “I don’t want it to. I don’t want to be scared. Isn’t that ridiculous? I just got here.” She got off the davenport and came and put her arms around him in the dark. “Do I look desperate?” she said.

He could feel her staring back into the darkness of the bedroom, her breathing shallow. “Not right now,” he said.

“One of those boys in town asked me if I wanted to fuck him,” she said sadly. “I told him no. But it made me feel lonely. Isn’t that strange? I wasn’t even mad at him. And then it made me feel scary.” Her hair smelled sweet and thick.

“That’s how you know you’re grown up,” Quinn said. “What used to make you mad makes you lonely. You find out you can’t change anything.” She wanted something, he knew, to make her feel better. “He was probably in love with you and couldn’t find the right way to say it.”

She put her cool hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t like that,” she said softly. “It’s not funny.” She was quiet a minute while she held him. It made him feel safe. “I didn’t know if you’d come down here for me,” she said. “I was afraid to call you. I’m sorry it’s awful.”

“It’s gotten better.” He put his arms around her. The measure of her ribs seemed almost too delicate and insubstantial to be actual.

“I’ll tell you my secrets,” she said, close to him. “Do you want to know? I’ve never told you.”

“Some other time,” he said. He put his fingers up in her hair where it was warm.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she said. His eyes wandered in the night sky. He didn’t think he had a secret now. “I hate it,” she said. “Nothing’s worse than secrets to me.”

He didn’t want to think about that. He shut his eyes. His father used to say you didn’t have to tell everyone everything, secrets were just ancient history. And he believed that. He thought there were a lot worse things to keep than secrets.

THE VISITATION SMELLED like it had been scrubbed with piss. It was prisoners’ work, and the prisoners liked tricks. Half the ceiling lights had been turned off, and the cafeteria was cool and damp and crowded with American visitors, hippies whispering and smirking over the metal tables and the rest moms and dads in bright clothes, sitting erect, being cheerful and not noticing the smell while they chatted. It was the day for people without connections. Extra guards were at either end. Rae kept taking deep breaths.

They had waited an hour in an anteroom while Bernhardt entered the document of release and paid the alcaide two hundred dollars to keep his mouth shut until the judge could be paid. Rae had been searched, and when she came out of the room her mouth was closed tight, and she kept blinking as if the light was bright.

“My college degree isn’t much good to me here, is it Harry?” she said to him, her hands tightly clasped on the metal table while they waited. She had brought two copies of the Sporting News . She kept her hands weighted on them.

“Try to smile,” he said.

“Am I supposed to lead cheers?” she said. She had put on her tinted glasses and her hair looked darker in the bad light. No one was paying attention to them.

The Sporting News had a color picture of Hank Aaron holding a lot of bats. The values were all too harsh. It wasn’t like life. “He’ll be fucked up,” Quinn said. “Just tell him not to do that. We don’t want him hospitalized.”

Sonny was let in the yellow door at the end of the room, searched, then released. His expression was different. It was as if he was thinner. Something wasn’t quite right.

Rae began smiling when she saw him and kept smiling. When Sonny got close she reached across the table and tried to touch his hands, but he hid his hands in his pockets. “I’m fucking cut,” he said and sat down.

“Oh Jesus,” Rae said, leaning on the table still trying to touch him.

“Fucking shit, man.” Sonny jerked his head angrily so his pony-tail jerked.

“Just a second now,” Quinn said. Sonny wasn’t popped. His eyes were small and pencil-pointed. “Just wait a second.” He was trying to put some ideas in front of Sonny to keep him calm. Rae looked as if someone had hit her face. She seemed to want to speak but couldn’t. Quinn wanted her out, but there wasn’t any way for it now. “How bad are you?” he said. He wanted to see a cut to be sure. This was something not to happen. He glanced at the picture of Hank Aaron with his arms surrounding the bats, smiling. It pronounced a malediction on everything.

“I’m all right,” Sonny said in a soft voice. “I didn’t go upstairs with it.”

“Who did it?” He wished Bernhardt were there and Rae was gone. He could hear her breathing too hard.

“A fucking spic grease-ball. Cut me with a Sidra bottle,” Sonny said, staring down. He was furious and terrified.

“Where?” Rae said. She had begun to sweat on her hairline.

“My thigh,” Sonny said. He swallowed. He was scared but he wouldn’t panic yet. He would panic later, but not now.

“Did you fuck with him?” Quinn said.

Sonny looked up fiercely. “I don’t fuck with anybody in here, man. I’m getting out, so I don’t fuck with anybody.” He looked at Rae as if he wanted something to hurt her feelings.

“It’s filthy in here,” she said and looked urgent.

Quinn still wasn’t sure if he should believe it, but he didn’t have any visible choice. “Can it keep?” he said.

“Maybe,” Sonny said.

“Was it anybody you knew?”

Sonny shook his head. “Forastero,” he said. “You know?” He looked at both of them blankly. He meant Deats.

“Just forget that now,” Quinn said. “Just forget that.” Sonny looked at him coldly with an expression of betrayal. It was an expression he had seen on Rae’s face, but on Sonny it meant nothing to him. Americans at another table stood up and began embracing the skinny kid who had foot-fucked the Mexican girl. He still had on his “Try God” T-shirt, and his mother was crying and people were staring at her. Sonny glanced at her a moment and then looked back, uninterested. “Can you stay in one place?” Quinn said.