I looked at my watch. Eight thirty in the morning. Seemed early for beer but what do I know — maybe that’s what good sons of bitches do.
Not a lot more was said until three lawn chairs were arranged on the cement pad out front of the shop. Tal Ledbetter handed the old man a beer and me a Dr Pepper. Awright. How’d he know that? Probably just luck. All he had in the fridge.
He twisted the top off another beer and sat across from me and the old man. Looked at the old man like he was memorizing him.
“By damn, you’re looking good, man. Old but good.”
“You think I look old? You passed by a mirror lately?” They both laughed like they were the two funniest guys on the planet. I sipped my Dr Pepper and looked around at the place.
It was hard to get hold of. I mean I didn’t know what happened there. Sure there was a shop, but the big double doors were open and except for a John Deere tractor that looked about the same age as Tal and the old man, the fridge Tal had got the drinks from, and a ride-on lawn mower, there wasn’t much in there. I didn’t see the tools you expect to see in a shop, you know, all arranged on the walls, hanging on metal hooks.
In fact, what was on the walls were paintings — some of people, some of countryside, a couple of horses. And there was one big one, really big, of a bald eagle sitting on the seat of a very large motorcycle — maybe a Harley. All of the paintings had this weird sort of off-kilter feel to them. The people ones were mostly women, and the people in the paintings were all at an angle so you wanted to tilt your head when you looked at them. The countryside paintings — every one of them had a big space, a white space, like there was a hole in the painting, or he’d forgotten to finish it. The space was in a different place in each of the paintings, but they all had it. The eagle on the motorcycle was the most normal painting in the place. And it wasn’t all that normal, since it was an eagle on a motorcycle. No helmet. Not a safety conscious eagle.
If Tal was the artist, I didn’t think he was very good. I decided not to mention that to him.
“I can’t believe you’re going back,” Tal was saying to the old man.
“A lot of guys are. They’ve got tours.”
“I heard about that. Don’t believe I’ll ever go on one.”
“Okay if I walk around?” I was looking at the old man, but actually, it was Tal I was asking.
“Sure, kid, make yourself at home.”
Kid. There it was.
I picked up my Dr Pepper and wandered off toward the house. One storey, maybe two, three rooms. Big enough for one person, or maybe a couple, but only if they didn’t own much. Tal didn’t look like he owned much. I wondered if there was a Mrs. Tal.
I circled around the house to where a lot of places have a backyard. This one had a back swamp. There was a fence around the outside but not chain-link. Wooden like you see around animal corrals. And inside the fence was a body of water too small to be a lake or even a slough but too big to be a swimming pool. It wasn’t encased in concrete; it just sat there — this huge hole dug out of the ground and filled with water.
I remember reading, I think it was in a magazine or the newspaper, about water that looked “brackish.” I didn’t know what the word meant then and I still don’t, but if I was looking for a word to describe that water, I’d go with brackish. But that wasn’t all. There was a fair amount of grass around the outside of the water and also inside the fence.
And two cows. Not like a herd. And not milk cows, not the kind you see in pictures on milk containers. I figured these had to be beef cows. Who has two cows?
I climbed up on the fence and watched the cows eat grass for a while. I figured it was better than listening to two old guys telling each other how great they looked. Besides, I needed some time to think about a few things.
I was finding some things out about the old man, even if he wasn’t very good at telling me stuff about himself. Or maybe I wasn’t all that good at asking.
So what was this for? What was this about, this trip to Vietnam with a man who hadn’t been part of my life for most of it, then suddenly shows up with malaria pills and two tickets to Saigon?
I finished the Dr Pepper, watched the cows for a few more minutes, and climbed down off the fence so I could throw a few rocks into the swamp. Then I walked back around to the front yard. I figured Tal and the old man had had enough time to visit. If we were going, we should get going.
When I got back to where they were sitting, they were on their second beer and laughing like two junior high girls. Looked pretty stupid on a couple of old guys, even stupider than it does on junior high girls.
Tal looked up and said, “What do you think of my moat?”
“Moat?”
“Well, that’s what I call it.”
“It won’t be very effective keeping your enemies out. Isn’t a moat supposed to go around the whole place?”
“I figure all my enemies, being the no heart sons o’ bitches that they are, will try to sneak up behind me, so I only need a moat on that side.”
“Makes sense.” I nodded. Actually, it made no sense at all. Near as I could see, there wasn’t much about Tal Ledbetter that made any sense.
“Besides, I got tired of digging.” More laughing from the two of them. What the hell had been funny about that?
“You dug that whole thing?”
“Me and that John Deere. Took me three and a half days to get it the way I wanted.”
“For two cows.”
“I’d planned to have more. Couldn’t afford ’em.”
“Why have just two? If that’s all you can afford, then why not just go with none?”
“Because I like cows better than cats.”
Another answer that didn’t make sense.
“The water looks brackish.”
He nodded. “Yes, it does.”
“Time to mount up, Nathan.” The old man got up out of his chair.
I looked around for whatever Tal was going to drive us to the airport in. Nothing. But a taxi was pulling into his driveway. Tal and the Old Man did some more hugging while I walked over to the truck and pulled my stuff out of the back seat.
The old man did the same thing as the taxi came alongside us. The driver didn’t look happy as he popped the trunk and got out to help us load our stuff. Except he didn’t help. Or say anything. He just watched as we threw the old man’s duffle bag and my suitcase and backpack into the trunk. He kept looking from the old man to Tal and back to the old man. He wasn’t very good at hiding how much he didn’t like either of them.
Maybe he’d been mugged or something and figured these were the kind of guys to do something like that. I couldn’t totally blame him. They didn’t look like people you’d want to meet in some dark out-of-the-way place. Like where we were
