L Is for Lawless

the passenger seat. The two of us watched the silver ribbon of highway curl away beneath us. The lights on the dashboard threw off a soft illumination. In deference to Ray, we kept the radio turned down and confined our conversation to an occasional remark. Ray began to snore, a sputtering exsufflation punctuated by quiet, as if someone were holding his nose shut at intervals. When it was clear that nothing short of a four-car flame-out was going to wake him, we began to chat in low tones.
    "I take it you never had a chance to spend time with him," I said.
    Laura shrugged. "Not really. My mother used to make me write once a month. She was always big on taking care of those less fortunate than we were. I can remember looking around, wondering who the hell she could be talking about. Then she remarried and seemed to forget about Ray. Made me feel guilty at first 'til I forgot myself. Little kids aren't exactly famous for satisfying other people's needs."
    I said, "Actually, I think kids try to satisfy everyone. What other choice do they have? When you're dependent on someone, you better hope you keep 'em happy."
    "Said like a true neurotic. Are your parents still alive?"
    "No. They died together in an accident when I was five."
    "Yeah. Well, imagine if one of 'em suddenly showed up one day. You live your life wishing you had a father. Then suddenly you have one and you realize you don't have the vaguest idea what to do with him." She cast an uneasy look in the backseat at Ray. If he was faking sleep, he was really good at it.
    I said, "Are you close to your mother?"
    "I was until Gilbert. She doesn't like him much, but that's probably because he never paid her much attention. She's a bit of a southern belle. She likes guys who fawn."
    "What about your stepfather? What's the story on him?"
    "He and Gilbert are as thick as thieves. He never wanted to believe Gilbert's hitting me was unprovoked. It's not like he
approved.
He just always assumes there's another side to it. He's the kind who says 'Well, that's
your
story. I'm sure Gilbert would have something else to say about this.' He prides himself on being fair, not jumping to conclusions. Like a judge, you know? He wants to hear prosecution and defense arguments before he hands down his sentence. He says he doesn't want to be judgmental. What he really means is he doesn't believe a word I say. Whatever Gilbert does, I deserve, you know? He probably wishes he could take a pop at me himself."
    "What about your mother? Didn't she object to Gilbert's hitting you, or didn't she know?"
    "She says whatever Paul says. It's like an unspoken agreement. She doesn't want to rock the boat. She doesn't like conflicts or disagreements. All she wants is peace and quiet. She's just so thrilled to have someone taking care of her, she doesn't want to make waves. Paul always makes out like he's doing her such a big favor being married to her. I think she was twenty-four when they met. I was maybe five years old. So there she was, with an ex-husband in jail and no means of support. The only job she ever had was working as a drugstore clerk. She couldn't make enough to survive. She had to go on welfare, which she thought was the lowest of the low. Her big shame. What the hell. She needed help. It's not like I was illegitimate, but in her eyes, it was the worst. She never wants to have to sink to that again. Besides, with Paul, she doesn't have to work. He doesn't want her to. He wants her to keep house and cater to his every whim. Not a bad deal."
    "Yes, it is. It sounds grim."
    Laura smiled. "I guess it does, doesn't it? Anyway, when I was growing up, Paul was critical, authoritarian. He ruled the roost. He nearly broke his arm patting himself on the back for all he did for us. In his own way, he was good to her. He never gave a shit about me, but to be fair about it, I'm sure I was a pain. Probably still am, if it comes to that." She leaned her head back against the seat. "Are you married?"
    "I was." I held up two fingers.
    "You were married twice? Me too. Once to a guy with a 'substance abuse' problem," she said, using her fingers to mark the phrase with quotes.
    "Cocaine?"
    "That and heroin. Speed, grass, stuff like that.
    The other husband was a mama's boy. Jesus, he was weak. He got on my nerves because he was so insecure. He didn't know how to do anything. Plus, he needed all this reassurance. Like what do I know? I'm hardly in a position to make somebody else feel good."
    "What