Denis Johnson - Tree of Smoke

service?” “Yep. The army or the Marines. I guess you’re gonna let me kiss you

now, ain’t you?” She laughed. “You’re funny.” He kissed her a long time and then she said, “That’s what I like about

you. You’re funny when you’re happy. And you’re good-looking—that’s one thing too,” and they spent a while kissing, until a commercial came on the radio, and he spent some time with the dial.

“Hmmm,” she said. “What is it, Stevie?”

“Fm trying to think, does this man kiss like the army, or like the Marines? Hmmmm,” she said while kissing him. She broke away. “Maybe the U.S. Air Force.”

He kissed her and very gently touched her arms, her cheeks, her neck. He knew better than to put his hands where he wanted to. Tve got one warm beer left,” he said.

“Go ahead. Fm not thirsty.”

He sat against the driver’s door, and she against hers. He was glad the sun was setting so he didn’t have to worry what he looked like. Sometimes he wasn’t sure the expression on his face made any sense.

Now he had to burp. He just went ahead and did it loudly and said, “Greetings from the interior.”

Stevie said, “Your dad’s in prison, isn’t he?”

“Where’d you get that one?”

“Is he?”

“No, that’s more my stepdad,” James said. “Just some guy, really. He’s my mother’s fault, not mine.” “And your real dad’s in the service, huh?” James draped his arms over the wheel and rested his chin on them,

staring out… So now she suddenly thought they should tell their worst secrets to each other.

He got out and went behind some scrub and took a leak. The sun had dropped behind Camelback Mountain southwest of them. The sky was still pure blue above and then at the horizon tinted some other color, a rosy yellow that went away when you looked at it.

Beside her again in the truck he said, “Well, I just made up my mind: I’m joining the army infantry.”

“Really? The infantry, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Then what? Specialize in something?”

“I’m going to get over there to Vietnam.”

“And then what?”

“I’m going to fuck up a whole lot of people.”

“God,” she said. “You’re not with the guys here, you know. I’m a female.”

“Sorry about that, chief.”

She put her hand on the back of his neck and touched his hair ten

derly with her fingers. To stop her doing it, he sat up straight. “That’s an awful thing to say, James.” “What.” “What you said.” “It just came out. I didn’t mean it, I don’t think.” “Then don’t say it.” “Shit. Do you think I’m that evil?” “Everybody’s got a mean side. Just don’t feed it till it grows.” They kissed some more. “Well, anyhow,” he said, “what do you feel like doing at the mo

ment?” “What… I don’t know. Do we have gas?” “Yep.” It thrilled him she’d said “we.” “Let’s drive around and see what’s going on.” “Let’s take the long way.” That meant he’d make a serious pass at her. “Okay.” That meant she wouldn’t mind.

James stood out front of the house in the dark as his mother came home from work in Tom Mooney’s convertible Chevy, staring out of the passenger side with her mouth lagging open, her face hidden by a ragged straw hat, a bandanna protecting her neck. Mooney waved to James, and James dropped his cigarette butt to the earth and stomped it out and waved. By then the Chevy had gone.

She went on inside without a word for her son, this silence both unusual and welcome.

It lasted until he followed her into the kitchen. “If you don’t think that ranch has about wore me out, just come feel the muscle a-quivering on this arm. If I heat a can of soup, you better eat it. Don’t make me fuss and then just sit there dreaming your dreams.” She turned on the kitchen light and stood under it looking small and spent. “I’ve got baloney and I’ve got tomaters. Do you want a sandwich? Sit down, and I’ll make us soup and sandwiches. Where’s Burris?”

“Who?” “He’ll be around. He’s always hungry. I lost weight while I carried him to term. I started out one-nineteen, and in my ninth month I was

down to one-eleven. He fed on me from the inside.” Wiping at her face,

she smeared it with dirt from her hand. “Mom. Wash up before you cook.” “Oh, Lord,” she said. “I’m just so tired I forget I’m alive. Open the

can for me, hon.” They ate peanut butter and jelly and Campbell’s soup. “I’ll cut up this tomater.” “I just ate. I don’t want it.” “You’ve got to have vegetables.” “There’s vegetables in the soup. That’s why it’s Vegetable Soup.’ ” “Don’t run away. I mean to talk to you. When is your school done for

the summer?” “It finished up today.” “Come to work at the ranch, then.” “I don’t know about that.” “What don’t you know? Do you know a dollar when you don’t see

one? Because J don’t see one.” “I was thinking about the military. Maybe the army.” “When? Now?” “I’m seventeen.” “Seventeen and crazy.” “Bill Junior was seventeen. You signed for him.” “It didn’t hurt him, I suppose.” “He called today.” “He called? What did he say?” “Nothing. He’s in Honolulu.” “I’ve never seen a dime from him. Not that I’d ever ask it.” “If I get in the army, I’ll send you some.” “Once or twice he sent some money. Not regular. He hasn’t lately.

And I can’t ask him because my pride strangles me.” “I’ll send some every payday. I swear,” James said. “You decide that on your own.” “Does that mean you’d sign for me?” She didn’t answer. He picked up a fork and started eating sliced tomato. “You send me

the envelope every month, I’ll send you some money back inside it.” “Did you talk to the recruiters yet?”

“I will.” “When?” “I will.” “Will when?” “Monday.” “If you have the papers Monday night, and you can show me some

good reasons for the service, I might sign. But if you’re just dreaming, then Tuesday you better wake up and get over to the ranch with me. I’ve got the phone back on, but the rent is waiting on the Lord to move. Where’s Burris?”

“He’ll come when he’s hungry.” “He’s always hungry,” she said, and began to say all over again the same things she’d just told him, because she was unable not to say them.

His mother was unable to be quiet. She read the Bible all the time. She was too old to be his mother, too worn out and stupid to be his mother.

Bil l Houston thoroughly enjoyed beer, but there came a point where it started to stick in his throat. This tavern must face west, because the burning sun poured through the open door. No air-conditioning, but he was used to that in the places he drank in. It was a dive, all right.

He returned from the toilet, and Kinney was still interrogating the

beach bum: “What did you do? Tell me exactly what you did.” “Nothing. Fuck it.” Bill Houston sat down and said, “I got nothing against you boys. Got

a little brother wants to go in the Marines.” The ex-marine was drunk. “That ain’t nothing. I’ve seen some things.” “He’s talking like he did something to some woman over there,” Kin

ney said. “Where?” Houston said. “Vietnam, goddamn it,” Kinney said. “Aren’t you listening?” “I’ve seen some things,” the boy said. “What it was, they held this

woman down and this one guy cut her pussy out. That stuff happens there all the time.”

“Jesus God. No shit?” “I did some of it too.” “You did it?” “I was there.” Houston said, “You really” —He couldn’t quite repeat it—”you really

did that?” Kinney said, “You cut up some bitch’s cunt?” “I was right there when it happened. Right nearby, right in the