Illuminated only by the dim glow of dashboard gauges, Lyle ripped his gloves and coat off, then peeled the bandanna from his beard and the stocking cap from his sweat-matted hair. When he pulled his feet out of his wet boots they made a sucking sound like he was pulling them out of a mud bog. After he stripped his waterlogged socks from his feet, he lay down on the front bench seat to shimmy his way out of his coveralls, leaving him wearing only his faded old Wrangler jeans, worn on the rear and inseam from the saddle, along with the flannel shirt Maricruz had bought for him at the farm supply store last Christmas. He put his face just an inch or two from a vent, and moaned almost with ecstasy as the hot air thawed his face like the late morning sun melting frost from grass. Lyle heard the strike of a cigarette lighter and looked back into the void of the back seat to see only the cherry of a cigarette pulsing with heat as the woman inhaled her first drag. The car filled with smoke as she exhaled, instantly taking on the smell of a bowling alley or bar.
"Don't suppose I could have one of my cigarettes, could I?" For a moment he thought she was ignoring him, but then a cigarette and the lighter landed softly on the seat beside him. He lit it and cracked the window an inch or so to let out some of the smoke. Ever since he was sixteen, he'd always held his cigarettes with his pointer finger and thumb, more like someone taking a toke off a joint, instead of between his middle and pointer fingers like his grandmothers and his mom always had. All he could hear in the car for a few minutes was the sound of one deep breath after another until the breathing in the front seat seemed to line up with the breathing in the back like some sort of guided nicotine meditation. Breathe out emptiness. Breathe in fullness.
The woman rolled down the back window slightly and dropped the butt out, and then Lyle heard the cap turn as she opened the bottle before taking a swig. She coughed from the burn, and he thought she might throw it back up. What an amateur. He felt the presence of her hand holding out the open bottle to him, not far from his face. The distilled oaky sweetness filled his nostrils. No one would ever know if he had just a taste, being out in the middle of nowhere with someone he'll probably never see again. He deserved it after all he'd been through that night. Plus it would help him relax, maybe even get a little sleep to pass the time until help could arrive in the morning. How many times had he sat on the tailgate of his truck over the years out at the riverbed or in the middle of a field at the oil pumps, drinking and dancing with a few friends, nothing but laughter, the fresh night air, and maybe a little action before the night was over? Breathe out emptiness. Lyle pulled another drag from his cigarette. Breathe in fullness. He exhaled, and then hoped she couldn't tell that his hand was trembling as he gently pushed the bottle away. "Nah, don't drink anymore."
The woman in the back seat laughed. "What the hell are you doing carrying around a bottle of whiskey in the middle of a blizzard then?"
"Hey, it helped me get in your car didn't it?" Lyle dried some melting snow from his beard with his shirt sleeve.
"That didn't have a damn thing to do with me letting you in here. I took it just because I could."
Lyle turned to face the back seat. "Then why did you let me in?"
"Was all that crap true? What you said about your girlfriend and her son and your little girl?"
Lyle tried his hardest to make out what the woman looked like, but all he could see was her shadowy form reclining across the car's back seat. "Every damn word of it."
"But why was it so important for you to get to them tonight?"
"That's kind of a long story." He dropped his cigarette butt out the window and rolled it up. "I wouldn't even know where to start."
"Well, neither one of us is going anywhere for a while."
He took a deep breath. "First of all, the name's Lyle. What's yours?" He slowly reached his hand toward the back seat. When she never shook it or responded, he pulled it back and began, "Well, I guess I could start by saying I've worked cattle or farmed wheat ever since I was just a kid."
"So you really are a cowboy? Like a real cowboy? I didn't even know that still existed anymore."
"Yeah, and I've been a drunk cowboy since I was about seventeen. I spent up every paycheck at bars and liquor stores and spent most nights trying to get some cowgirl out of her Rocky Jeans. Then I moved up here coming up on two years ago and got on as a hand out at the Crazy Snake Ranch." He held one of his socks up to the heater vent. "A little over a year ago, I met Maricruz when she was waiting tables at her folks' Mexican joint. She does the books there too. She's sharp as hell." He turned his sock to dry the other side. "We started seeing each other and I got to spending a lot of time with her little boy, Benny. You know, taking him fishing and teaching him to ride a horse. He's a good kid, a real good kid. And Maricruz is a helluva woman, a helluva woman. I figured I was coming up on thirty-five so it was time for me to finally get my shit together so I wouldn't lose her... and Benny. Then out of the freaking blue I got a letter from Osage County back in Oklahoma. That's how I found out about Savannah. A letter from the county! So I had even more reason to cut down on my drinking, and I did, to you know, maybe just a few Jack-and-Cokes in the evenings."
"That's cutting down?" the woman in the back seat asked. "You really are a drunk, aren't you?"
Lyle switched and held the other sock up to the vent. "Well, I was managing it okay for the most part. But then one night all the hands were going out to raise hell for somebody's birthday. I can't even remember whose it was. We got kicked out of the bar in town after some dumbass kicked a bar stool out from under a townie and was about to kick his ass for no reason. So we ended up stumbling over to Maricruz's folks' restaurant. I was already wasted, but I still knew enough to try to talk them into going someplace else. They wouldn't listen, though, and the pricks I was with got all loud and ended up chasing off all the customers. They kept putting shots in front of me and I did what I always did; I kept drinking them. Finally Maricruz's brothers and uncle cut us off and the other guys I was with just started tearing shit up, kicking over chairs and breaking plates. I tried to stop them but I couldn't. Maricruz was crying and told me to get the hell out, and when we heard the cops coming we finally took off."
"You didn't stick around anyway? What an asshole."
"I was in no shape for that. I should have gone home but a couple hours later I climbed up the stairs to Maricruz's apartment door and started banging on it, wanting to say I was sorry. She wouldn't open the door, though, so I kept pounding on it. She finally opened it just a crack and told me to get lost or she'd call the cops again. Benny came out of his room while we were yelling at each other and she tried to calm him down, but she was crying too, and I kept telling her to let me in so I could talk to him. It got to a point where all she kept asking me over and over again was, 'Is this really who you are Lyle? Is it?'"
"Did you hit her?"
"Hell no. I never laid a hand on her or any woman in my life. I've never been a mean drunk like my daddy was, just a stupid one. But I did try to push my way in the door. I just wanted to be with her and to talk to Benny. But she slammed it in right in my face. Busted my nose. I stumbled back and my boot heel must have caught the top step because I ended up falling down all twenty-three of 'em."
The woman in the backseat snickered. "Karma's a bitch ain't it, Cowboy?"
"Damn straight. When I woke up in the hospital, sore as hell and shaking, I looked around for Maricruz but she wasn't there. I didn't blame her, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. Instead there was some guy sitting in the chair by my bed reading a book. It turns out after the ambulance came and picked my broken ass up, she'd called some professor from over at the community college in Pueblo who'd been a drunk too. Rick. Hell of a guy. Probably my only friend in the world right now. That day in the the hospital room he told me, 'Maricruz and Benny deserve better than this, and I won't let you screw up their lives.' I guess since he'd been in my place before, though, he'd talked her into giving me another chance if I stayed sober and went to ninety AA meetings in ninety days. He said he'd help me, but I couldn't see Maricruz or Benny or even call them for those three months. All I could do was write.
"I don't know why Rick's done all he's done for me. My own family don't give two shits about me, but tonight was my ninetieth meeting, my ninetieth day dry. That's why I was in Pueblo tonight. Rick was willing to go out in the weather to meet me at the church. I wanted that coin so bad, that coin that says "90 Days" on it, so I could show it to Maricruz and show it to Benny and eventually show it to my little girl. That's why I was so hellbent on getting home tonight. That's why I needed in this car so bad."
"Can I see it?" the woman asked. "The coin?"
Lyle dug it out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her. Without thinking, he reached up and turned on the dome light so she could see the coin. For the first time, the woman lying on the backseat came into focus. All she had on was a tube top with frayed seams and what looked like blood stains on it, along with a fake leather miniskirt. Her feet were bare and there was a pair of worn out old high heels on the floorboard. She had stringy peroxide hair with enough makeup on her face for three circus clowns, but still not enough to cover her black-eye and busted, swollen lip. She kind of reminded Lyle of some of the pretty girls from the trailer park on the edge of town that he'd known in high school, the ones who always seemed to get knocked up before junior prom. In one hand she held the coin but with the other she grabbed the .38 off the back dash and pointed it at Lyle. "Turn it off now!"
He followed her instructions, and they sat silently. "What the hell happened to you?" Lyle finally asked. An anger he hadn't felt in a long time began to well up inside him when he thought about what her answer might be.
"Just keep telling your story, Lyle," she said. "You don't want to hear mine, and even if you do, I don't want to tell it." As she handed him his coin back she added, "I've been through way too much for only being sixteen."
He took a deep breath. "First of all, the name's Lyle. What's yours?" He slowly reached his hand toward the back seat. When she never shook it or responded, he pulled it back and began, "Well, I guess I could start by saying I've worked cattle or farmed wheat ever since I was just a kid."
"So you really are a cowboy? Like a real cowboy? I didn't even know that still existed anymore."
"Yeah, and I've been a drunk cowboy since I was about seventeen. I spent up every paycheck at bars and liquor stores and spent most nights trying to get some cowgirl out of her Rocky Jeans. Then I moved up here coming up on two years ago and got on as a hand out at the Crazy Snake Ranch." He held one of his socks up to the heater vent. "A little over a year ago, I met Maricruz when she was waiting tables at her folks' Mexican joint. She does the books there too. She's sharp as hell." He turned his sock to dry the other side. "We started seeing each other and I got to spending a lot of time with her little boy, Benny. You know, taking him fishing and teaching him to ride a horse. He's a good kid, a real good kid. And Maricruz is a helluva woman, a helluva woman. I figured I was coming up on thirty-five so it was time for me to finally get my shit together so I wouldn't lose her... and Benny. Then out of the freaking blue I got a letter from Osage County back in Oklahoma. That's how I found out about Savannah. A letter from the county! So I had even more reason to cut down on my drinking, and I did, to you know, maybe just a few Jack-and-Cokes in the evenings."
"That's cutting down?" the woman in the back seat asked. "You really are a drunk, aren't you?"
Lyle switched and held the other sock up to the vent. "Well, I was managing it okay for the most part. But then one night all the hands were going out to raise hell for somebody's birthday. I can't even remember whose it was. We got kicked out of the bar in town after some dumbass kicked a bar stool out from under a townie and was about to kick his ass for no reason. So we ended up stumbling over to Maricruz's folks' restaurant. I was already wasted, but I still knew enough to try to talk them into going someplace else. They wouldn't listen, though, and the pricks I was with got all loud and ended up chasing off all the customers. They kept putting shots in front of me and I did what I always did; I kept drinking them. Finally Maricruz's brothers and uncle cut us off and the other guys I was with just started tearing shit up, kicking over chairs and breaking plates. I tried to stop them but I couldn't. Maricruz was crying and told me to get the hell out, and when we heard the cops coming we finally took off."
"You didn't stick around anyway? What an asshole."
"I was in no shape for that. I should have gone home but a couple hours later I climbed up the stairs to Maricruz's apartment door and started banging on it, wanting to say I was sorry. She wouldn't open the door, though, so I kept pounding on it. She finally opened it just a crack and told me to get lost or she'd call the cops again. Benny came out of his room while we were yelling at each other and she tried to calm him down, but she was crying too, and I kept telling her to let me in so I could talk to him. It got to a point where all she kept asking me over and over again was, 'Is this really who you are Lyle? Is it?'"
"Did you hit her?"
"Hell no. I never laid a hand on her or any woman in my life. I've never been a mean drunk like my daddy was, just a stupid one. But I did try to push my way in the door. I just wanted to be with her and to talk to Benny. But she slammed it in right in my face. Busted my nose. I stumbled back and my boot heel must have caught the top step because I ended up falling down all twenty-three of 'em."
The woman in the backseat snickered. "Karma's a bitch ain't it, Cowboy?"
"Damn straight. When I woke up in the hospital, sore as hell and shaking, I looked around for Maricruz but she wasn't there. I didn't blame her, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. Instead there was some guy sitting in the chair by my bed reading a book. It turns out after the ambulance came and picked my broken ass up, she'd called some professor from over at the community college in Pueblo who'd been a drunk too. Rick. Hell of a guy. Probably my only friend in the world right now. That day in the the hospital room he told me, 'Maricruz and Benny deserve better than this, and I won't let you screw up their lives.' I guess since he'd been in my place before, though, he'd talked her into giving me another chance if I stayed sober and went to ninety AA meetings in ninety days. He said he'd help me, but I couldn't see Maricruz or Benny or even call them for those three months. All I could do was write.
"I don't know why Rick's done all he's done for me. My own family don't give two shits about me, but tonight was my ninetieth meeting, my ninetieth day dry. That's why I was in Pueblo tonight. Rick was willing to go out in the weather to meet me at the church. I wanted that coin so bad, that coin that says "90 Days" on it, so I could show it to Maricruz and show it to Benny and eventually show it to my little girl. That's why I was so hellbent on getting home tonight. That's why I needed in this car so bad."
"Can I see it?" the woman asked. "The coin?"
Lyle dug it out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her. Without thinking, he reached up and turned on the dome light so she could see the coin. For the first time, the woman lying on the backseat came into focus. All she had on was a tube top with frayed seams and what looked like blood stains on it, along with a fake leather miniskirt. Her feet were bare and there was a pair of worn out old high heels on the floorboard. She had stringy peroxide hair with enough makeup on her face for three circus clowns, but still not enough to cover her black-eye and busted, swollen lip. She kind of reminded Lyle of some of the pretty girls from the trailer park on the edge of town that he'd known in high school, the ones who always seemed to get knocked up before junior prom. In one hand she held the coin but with the other she grabbed the .38 off the back dash and pointed it at Lyle. "Turn it off now!"
He followed her instructions, and they sat silently. "What the hell happened to you?" Lyle finally asked. An anger he hadn't felt in a long time began to well up inside him when he thought about what her answer might be.
"Just keep telling your story, Lyle," she said. "You don't want to hear mine, and even if you do, I don't want to tell it." As she handed him his coin back she added, "I've been through way too much for only being sixteen."
