W Is for Wasted

levels had left me logy and longing for sleep. In an attempt to make conversation, I said, “How’d you two end up on the street? That can’t be much fun.”
    Felix leaned forward on the seat, inserting himself between the two of us like the family dog on an outing. “More fun than you’d think. I run off when I was fifteen and went to live with my dad.”
    Pearl smiled at him. “This guy’s epileptic. Had a brain injury, didn’t you?”
    “Yep. My mom come after me with a ballpeen hammer. Soft-faced instead of hard, which she said was a lucky break for me. She give me such a whack she knocked me out cold. When I come to I was seeing stars and didn’t have a clue where I was at. Didn’t bleed much, but my head hurt bad. After that, I started having fits—ten to fifteen a day.”
    “She claimed he only did it to embarrass her,” Pearl said.
    “That’s right. She didn’t take me to the doctor for two years. Said the fits was phoney-baloney I came up with just to bug the shit out of her. Couldn’t prove it by me. I’d be fine and then I’d be down on the ground pissin’ myself.”
    Pearl said, “By the time she took him for help, the seizures damaged his brain.”
    “She said I didn’t have much brains to begin with, so no big loss,” he said. “I’m fine as long as I take my pills.”
    “That’s right. And don’t you forget,” she said, and pointed a finger at him.
    He smiled, happily, grungy braces glinting on his teeth. “She’s tough. Her and Dandy watch out for me.”
    “Better than your mom did, that’s for sure.”
    I caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Who paid for your braces?”
    “My dad.”
    “What happened to him?”
    “He got tired of me, I guess. One day he went off and didn’t come back. After that, I was on my own.”
    “What about you, Pearl?”
    “I was afraid you’d get around to asking. I’m chronically unemployed. Never had a job my whole life. None of my family did. I take that back. Once my daddy was hired on a construction crew for two weeks and two days. He said it was way more work than it paid. He maintained it was just one more way to take advantage of the poor. After that, the state took care of us,” she said. “How about yourself? The business you’re in, what do you do all day?”
    “It varies. Process serving, paper searches at the courthouse. Background checks. Sometimes I sit surveillance. Once a case is wrapped up, I write reports and send out invoices so I can pay my bills.”
    “Now see, right there. That’s dumb. I don’t have bills. I don’t owe anyone a dime, so in that respect, I’m better off than you.”
    I stared at her briefly, thinking she was pulling my leg.
    “Up here is fine,” she said, indicating the intersection where Cabana Boulevard met State Street.
    I pulled over to the curb across the street from the public parking lot near the wharf. “You have a place to sleep?”
    “As long as the cops don’t hassle us,” she said.
    I was skeptical, though in truth the only alternative I could think of was an invitation to stay at my place, and how would that play out? The two of them on my sofa bed? Felix on the sofa and Pearl in bed with me? “I can give you a few bucks for a motel,” I said.
    “We don’t take handouts. Boggarts do that,” she said.
    “Sorry. My mistake,” I said.
    Felix said, “That’s all right. You didn’t know. Thanks for dinner. It was a treat. I kept me a couple packets of ketchup in case I get hungry later.”
    The two of them got out, Pearl toting the backpack while Felix carried the duffel in his arms like a dog.
    “Thanks for the help,” she said, holding up the backpack.
    “You two better keep an eye out,” I said. “Those guys will be cruising to get even.”
    “Doesn’t scare me,” she said. “Bunch of bozos.”
    As I pulled away, I kept an eye on them in the side-view mirror. They waited patiently, clearly unwilling to move while I still had them in my sights. Wherever they intended to hole up for the night, they didn’t want me to know. What a pair: Pearl, round as a beach ball, and Felix, with his gummed-up braces and his white-boy dreads. Why did the sight of them make me want to weep?
    •   •   •
    Wednesday morning, having worked my way through my usual routine, I went into the office, where I put on a pot of coffee and opened the mail from the day before. Despite the fact that business was nonexistent, I’m happier at my desk than just about