Couple of Years Back

Sunlight in His Eyes

When the cop grabbed him on Tabor summit, words spilled out like falling water. Four lousy words, look at the damage. Eager refused to speak of the man on the hill again. But in his dreams, his voice couldn’t be silenced. In his dreams, Eager shouted as loud as mountains cracking open. Up from the depths clambered the big man, a shriek gushing with purple blood from his open throat. The shriek would rise like a wave and toss Eager weeping from sleep, his flesh clammy and cold, fearful of his voice in the dark. No one else ever heard. Awake, he remained silent, allowed his silence to drive the big man away. In silence, he found, the hilltop empties, the body dissolves. The awful specter of mud and blood and pouring rain washes away into nothingness.

Gone ...

... poof ...

... forever ...

Except, deep down, Eager knew it wasn’t that simple.

So a month later, two months later, as the heat died down and Charm quit watching his every move, as she got back into her own groove, sneaking off with her boss and pretending it would make their lives better, Eager took to trolling the neighborhood. He knew he had to keep a low profile, cut back on his work. He couldn’t afford to get caught with his hand in someone’s purse, or pulling a stereo out of a car. A little panhandling, that was it. The prosecutor guy, fuckwit—Jesus, Charm could crack him up sometimes—talked about using his work against him. To make him talk. Like that was gonna happen.

He didn’t suppose he could afford to get caught skipping school any more than he could afford getting caught busting the glass on some overloaded Hummer. Bullshit. What the hell did he care about the Boston Tea Party, storm formation, means and medians? But school was only six hours, plus maybe a half hour of Charm bitching about how he was gonna be held back if he didn’t start doing his homework. Rest of the time, he hit the pavement. Searching, but for what?

Hard to say. Different things. When his dreams were loudest, he looked for the man from the hill, always over his shoulder and half on edge. Awake, he knew the guy had to be miles away. Maybe in a hole. But maybe around the next corner. Eager knew it wasn’t too bright to show himself out in the world. Asking for change, skating, searching. What would Charm say? Fucking brain-dead, that’s what. He could get snatched off the street and Charm would never know what happened. Whatever.

Lu kept her head down. Looked after the baby, made nice with that slob she met at Common Grounds. Working her own deal. Couldn’t blame her for that. But she didn’t like Eager being so public, so soon. One month, two months. Too soon.

Still.

Day after day, Eager rolled along, 50th to 60th, Hawthorne to Division. Familiar ground, little different street to street. Closer to Division, the houses were smaller, maybe. Duplexes like the one he lived in were the exception, but that wasn’t the sort of thing Eager noticed. He was looking for something specific, just didn’t know what. So he skated, up and down, back and forth, dodging traffic on Lincoln, grinding retaining walls until old ladies shouted him off.

Luellen was more cautious. Sometimes he went weeks without seeing her. Look in the coffee house window, no sign of her—roll.

Halloween, that was the day. Kadash. Eager remembered a lot from his afternoon sitting at the woman cop’s desk drinking shitty cocoa and exercising his right to remain silent. Skin. Shaggy grey hair and that neck, Jesus. The ugly fuck was hauling a yellow recycling bin full of empty cans and newspapers down to the curb. Their eyes met, cop’s surprised, Eager’s not. Eager knew he’d find him, even if he hadn’t known he was looking.

He waved, put on the face he wore for adults. “Hey, Detective Kadash! This your place?”

The detective didn’t answer right away. “What are you doing here, Eager?” He set the bin down and stood up, one hand on his back. Face was screwed up in a knot like his tongue was made of lemons.

“Just skating. You know how it is. A man can’t never get enough board time.”

“I guess I can see your point.”

“Fucking hell, yeah.” Eager ollied up onto the parking strip. “I only live a few blocks away.” He waved in some direction, no matter if his house was that way or not. Skin didn’t look anyway.

“I know.”

“Your street has too many cars on it.”

“Tell me about it.”

Eager laughed. He liked the old guy’s voice, gravelly from cigarettes, tempered by amusement. “Wanna see some shreds?”

“Maybe some other time.”

Eager waved again and continued on. Didn’t look back. He could tell Skin was watching him. At the next corner, he turned toward the park. Now he knew where the cop lived, time for some serious skating. He grinned, not recognizing the relief he felt as relief. Just glad he could find the cop when he needed to.

That night, in his dreams, the man on the hill stayed quiet. Eager woke up with sunlight in his eyes.

A few days later he skated past again. Kadash’s house was different from the rest on the block, older, smaller. A bit more run down. Eager possessed no awareness of architectural nuance, couldn’t tell the difference between an Old Portland and a Craftsman. But he had an eye for nice, and Kadash’s house wasn’t nice. It was average: one story, sagging porch. The grass had been cut, but aside from that, the yard looked like a whole lot of nothing. A few box hedges under the windows beside the porch, crabgrass and moss in the lawn.

About what you’d expect for a crunchy old cop.

The houses to either side and across the street were another story. They showed off fresh coats of paint, new windows and hanging plants. Security company signs. Eager didn’t bother with house prowls, but if he had, these were the kinds of joints he’d consider. Nice, but not too nice, with a Protected By sign tucked under the azaleas next to the front steps. Eager didn’t worry about security systems. He knew the score. People set them off all the time, false alarms. But he knew a nice neighborhood full of those signs meant a lot of taxpayers with shit to protect. Police kept an eye out for such types, people with more than a jar full of change and a stack of CDs and DVDs to sell at Everyday Music. Include a cop, no matter how good or bad his house looked, and the street was everything he hoped to find. Even if he hadn’t known he was looking.

Eager made a mental note, satisfied. Skated. Later, he ran into Skin again. Jawed a little, talked about his deck, his wheels, his trucks. Eager, rarely a talker, found himself describing the transitions at Burnside and O’Bryant Square. Skin sat on the top step of his porch and listened, maybe even a little interested. Eager liked him. And the way he figured it, it was good to have a friend who was a cop. Especially once the house across the street went up for sale. Perfect house, safe house, even if Skin didn’t understand Eager’s interest. Luellen would love it, once she convinced that slob she had on the hook that he needed to buy it for her.