The ad in the newspaper gave me an idea. For days I had been trying to figure out how to coax Hank from the apartment. I had suggested going to the local pool, where we could dip our feet in the shallow end of the water and drink beer.
‘I can drink beer here,’ Hank had grunted, sweat trailing down his face.
‘How about a walk down to the lake?’ I offered further. ‘We could sit in the shade and feed the ducks.’
‘I got enough trouble feeding myself!’ he bellowed. ‘I ain’t giving my bread to the goddamn ducks. Screw them.’
I became obsessed with getting him outside. The heat was intolerable and I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it. I was also worried about Hank. When I arrived at his apartment I was always relieved to find him hot, sweaty and cranky, sprawled in his chair in a bad mood rather than lying dead on the floor.
I began to think that maybe Benji was right, that Hank was hiding something in his past so terrible that to go outside would expose him. I scolded myself for buying into Benji’s wild fantasies. I told myself Hank was just a lonely old man, cast aside by an uncaring and indifferent world. He had lost interest in life, was content with his wine and cigars and old movies from Blockbuster. There was no one to push him out of his complacency, no one to tell him there were better ways to spend your twilight years. I hoped that if I ever got to that stage someone would help me, reach down into the dark pit and pull me out with both hands. God knows I had come close to being there before.
The advertisement in the newspaper was exactly what I had been looking for. I pulled a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer and cut around the edges. Lynette gave a startled yell as she stirred her coffee. It was one of those rare Saturday mornings when she was home, and not at the gym or some fundraising benefit.
‘How about you ask before you start cutting into the weekend paper?’ she said, looking at me over the edge of her glasses. ‘There are two people living in this house you know.’
‘So you keep reminding me.’
She drank her coffee. ‘What are you going to do today?’
‘Just hang out with Benji.’
‘Well perhaps you should be spending less time with him.’
‘Since when have you cared who I hang out with?’
‘Since your attitude started to stink.’ She put her arms on the bench and turned away, not looking at me. ‘I’ve tried so hard to make things comfortable for you and half the time you act like you don’t even want to be here. You’re always racing off to Benji’s place. Maybe you should just go and live with the Connors. That seems to be what you want.’
‘Don’t speak for me. You don’t know a thing about me.’
‘It’s not like I haven’t asked! Every day I ask how you are and you barely tell me anything. What the hell do you and Benji get up to anyway?’
To my surprise Lynette had tears in her eyes. I had never seen her cry before, wasn’t even sure she had the capacity to. Even at my mother’s funeral she had been stony-faced, coordinating the event as if it were a military operation. She asked the priest if she could ‘sample’ the sandwiches the church provided before passing them on to guests. She even told off the gravediggers for leaving a spade near the headstone, claiming it was ‘unsightly’. What was unsightly was my mother’s body after the truck tore through it. Who the hell cared about a fucking shovel? But to Lynette it was a symbol of disorder in her neatly organised world, just like I was. Like a trial she’d lost, the fact that Mom was gone sentenced Lynette to life with a kid without parole. It was like a death sentence. I closed the newspaper and put the clipping in my pocket. Lynette came over and sat beside me, her face grave.
‘We can’t go on like this much longer.’
‘Don’t worry. Next year I’ll be out of here.’
‘Don’t say that.’ She put her hand on mine. ‘I’m not going to let this relationship deteriorate any further than it already has. We are going to resolve this situation and move forward.’
‘Give me a break, Lynette. I’m not a client.’
‘Does Benji speak to his mother like that?’
‘Benji’s mother lets him do what he wants. She leaves him alone.’
‘One minute I’m not paying attention, the next you want me to leave you alone. You are being totally irrational. If you want me to be interested you need to give me consistent messages.’
‘If I want you to be interested?’
‘I am interested.’
‘Really? Okay. You want to know what I do all day? Fine. Benji and I visit houses where people have been murdered. We take photos and try to imagine what it was like to be bludgeoned to death.’
‘Hilda—’
‘And I’m having a relationship with an old wino in Echo Park. We’d have sex only I think he’s too old to get it up.’
Lynette looked at me like I was insane. ‘I think I need to take you to a doctor.’
‘Why? Because you feel obliged to look after me?’
‘Obliged? You really think that’s how I feel? Well Hilda, you may feel I know nothing about your life, but it would appear you know just as little about me.’
She took her coffee and left the room. I read the front page of the newspaper. A female serial killer in Russia was claiming she was much more ambitious than other female killers who were content to drown their own babies at home. I want to be as famous as the men, she was quoted as saying. I will continue to fight for equality.
A few minutes later Lynette emerged from her bedroom in gym shorts and a tight singlet, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
‘I’m going to the gym,’ she announced.
I didn’t say anything. I had my own places to retreat to.
‘Guess what,’ I said, arriving at Hank’s later that evening. The sun was going down and I could tell he was surprised to see me so late.
‘Didn’t know you were coming,’ he grunted as he turned around and went back inside. He collapsed in his chair, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I stepped in and closed the door behind me, barely containing my excitement.
‘We’re going out,’ I announced.
‘No we ain’t.’
‘Here.’
I pulled the newspaper clipping from my pocket and thrust it in his hand. Reluctantly he started to read. When he’d finished he folded the clipping and passed it back to me, looking disgusted.
‘That’s sick,’ he said. ‘I don’t wanna get involved in your sick death shit.’
‘What are you talking about? It’s really popular. Loads of people go.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘It’s true. It’s kind of a hip thing to do.’
‘People go to the cemetery to watch movies?’
‘Absolutely! Last summer Benji and I saw The Shining. It was a blast!’
‘I ain’t interested.’
Hank put his feet on the table and stared at the football game on the television. I leant over and switched it off.
‘What the hell?’ he yelled.
‘It’s Sunset Boulevard, Hank. With Gloria Swanson. Are you telling me you don’t wanna see that on the big screen? Under the stars?’
I stood and opened the curtains, pointed outside at the sun going down.
‘Look, soon it will be totally dark. No one will see you.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘I’m just saying, there’s no reason to be nervous.’
‘I told ya, I ain’t nervous about going outside!’
‘Then do it!’
‘I will!’
Hank stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. I heard drawers opening and cupboards slamming. A moment later the door swung open and there was Hank, dressed in a white shirt and old beige suit pants, a pair of leather shoes in his hand. He looked at me uncertainly.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘What?’
He gestured down. ‘Is this what people wear to movies at the cemetery these days?’
‘You look great Hank,’ I said, and he grunted his appreciation.
‘I gotta take a shit,’ he said, disappearing into the bathroom. When he emerged his hair was slicked back and I could smell cologne.
‘This is bullshit,’ he said, and headed for the door like a cannonball. ‘I can’t believe you talked me into this.’
‘Wait—we need something.’
‘What?’
I raced into his bedroom, ripped the pillows from the bed. ‘To sit on,’ I explained. ‘Is it okay to use these?’
‘Whatever.’
I went to the fridge and grabbed a six pack of beer. ‘Okay. We’re ready.’
‘Fine. Let’s get this over with.’
Leaving the apartment was an ordeal. With every footstep Hank was looking over his shoulder. He didn’t relax until we hailed a cab on Sunset. As we pulled out from the curb he sank down into the backseat, looking as if he expected someone was going to open fire on us at any second. We left Echo Park and made our way towards Hollywood, watching the suburbs rolling past us, and I looked for any kind of expression of excitement on Hank’s face, but saw only fear. I began to wonder whether this was a good idea after all.