Evzen, part 4

Evzen

   The lock was sticking again. Evzen turned the key with both hands and pushed the door open. The light from the stairs dribbled weakly in, and he turned the kitchen light on before closing the door. He dropped his jacket on the hook behind the door and walked to the refrigerator, pulling the door open and pulling out the gallon of milk. As he turned to the cabinet for a mug he realized something: He was not in the room alone. He pulled the mug down from the shelf and set it on the counter, wondering who lurked. He sighed a bit and turned into the bedroom part of his tiny apartment.
   There was a thin young woman lounging on his bed. She was wearing tight black jeans and a dark green bikini top and heavy boots. Her short black hair stuck up as though she had just woken up. She smiled at Evzen.
   “You live in a dump.”
   “Hello Quinn. Just passin through, or you need a place to hide from the sun’s burnin rays?”
   “You aren’t funny, Ev. God, I have never met someone as afraid of women as you are.”
   She ran skinny fingers through her hair, making sure it hadn’t flattened or anything. She had pale skin and dark eyes. Evzen turned on the bedroom light and her eyes reflected the light, dark blue and glimmering. She crossed her legs and ran a hand down one thigh.
   “But seriously, this place is really squalid. It, like, is totally empty. Barren. How can you live like this?” She shuddered melodramatically.
   “Because I’m only stayin here for a little while fore I move on.”
   He was getting angry at having his privacy intruded on, especially by someone he didn’t care for. Quinn gloated quietly and shifted on the bed.
   “When are you leaving?”
   “What, can’t wait for me to go?”
   “Oh, be nice! Be nice, or I’ll tell Daddy…”
   She sucked on one finger and looked at him coyly.
   “Be my guest. I really don’t care if Amet knows I don’t like his new fuck-monkey. It won’t affect our relationship inna least.”
   Quinn sulked briefly at not getting her way and thought quickly. Evzen wasn’t responding to her the way most people did. He didn’t seem phased by her claims on Amet, the danger inherent in running afoul of her. But then, he had his own, slightly more intimate relationship with the man. Family ties and all that. He also wasn’t phased by her overt sexuality. He either hated women or himself. She wondered which. She winked at Evzen.
   “What if I told daddy dearest that his fuck monkey is getting propositioned by you? I don’t think he’d like that. What do you think?”
   Evzen shrugged lazily.
   “He might wanta share. He wants ta share everthing else with me… money, connections, empires, cars.”
   Quinn blanched.
   “Or, he might consider the fact that I would'n go for a cunt like you, and know you was lyin. I don’t think ‘daddy dearest’ would like that, either. What’d’you think?” He turned and poured himself a mug of milk.
   “You are so fucking smug! You know, you ain’t even his kid. He just feels guilty because…” She trailed off, not wanting to give too much away.
   “Guilty? Whyever for? Abandonin’ the kids he took in as his own? Bein’ the direct cause of death of his wife? Nevah bein’ there for any’ve us? That’s a lot ta feel guilty for, don’tcha think?”
   He shrugged.
   “I can’t help what Amet feels. I don’t try ta play off it, either. I got other things in my life than him ‘n his business.”
   “You hate him, don’t you.”
   Evzen shook his head and drank his milk, looking at Quinn over the rim of the mug. She was sitting upright on the bed, eyes angry, her fists clenched at her sides. Evzen shook his head.
   “I don’t hate’im, either. He never hadta take us in. He did it ta make Mama happy, even though it didn’t suit him none. He was a good Dad when he was around, which is more’n I can say about certain othah people in my life.”
   Quinn narrowed her eyes.
   “You lie. You lie a lot. I don’t know why, or what you’re trying to hide, but you lie.”
   Evzen shrugged and took another drink.
   “I’m not lyin, and I don’t know what to say ta make you think otherwise. I don’t really care, anyway. Now, you min’ tellin’ me what y’are doin in my bed?”
   Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes and sat cross-legged on his bed. She leaned against the wall, the tips of her spiky hair touching the sloping ceiling, and held his pillow in her lap. She looked to her left, staring at the little round window. She didn’t look at him.
   “Your dad sent me to talk to you.”
   “Did he... What about?” He drained the last of his milk, head tipped back, and rinsed out the mug.
   “He wanted me to check out your place and see if it was any good.”
   “And?”
   “And to see if you wanted to come stay with him.”
   “Why would I want to do that?”
   “Fuck should I know?” She sounded angry, thumping the pillow for emphasis.
   “Maybe to foster a sense of family? Maybe so he can get to know you? Maybe so he can use you? Or let you use him? I don’t know.”
   “Mm.” He leaned against the sink and watched her.
   “Has he talked to Damek yet? Or sent you to talk ta him?”
   “Damek’s already told him in no uncertain terms to fuck himself. You haven’t made your feelings clear. I think Amet hopes he has a chance with you, still.”
   “A chance to do what?”
   “Again, fuck should I know? Jesus, you’re a suspicious bastard. It’s not like I’m a clearing house for his every hope and dream either, you know.”
   “So now you gonna go back and tell him what?”
   “I’m going back to tell him that you live practically in squalor and don’t seem overly receptive to his plan.”
   “Live practically in squalor? I do not live practically in squalor.”
   “She looked around his sparse room.
   “You do! You don’t have anything here! You haven’t even got any cereal! And I bet you have roaches here.”
   “I bet you’re right. This Louisiana, after all. Roaches sizea your hand here.”
   Quinn shuddered. “That’s repulsive! You’re disgusting.”
   “I speak the truth, tha’s all. And when you talk to dad, you can tell him this place is a definite step up from the last time I was livin with him.”
   He smiled a little as he said that, and Quinn looked at him curiously.
   “That was when he and Dji...Djidjo were together, wasn’t it?” She stumbled over the woman’s name.
   “Oh, he talks bout her? Yeah. They moved out there right fore me an’ Damek came along.”
   “What was it like? He doesn’t.... you know... talk about his past much.”
   Evzen shrugged.
   “It was a box divided inta four rooms. Mamma and Daddy’s room, a kitchen, Tetica’s room, and me’n Damek’s room. They was an outhouse out back.”
   “Jesus, that’s a cracker way to live.”
   “Yeah, we had a hand pump out back to wash up in. Mamma took Daddy’s laundry a mile to town each week, to wash at the laundermat.”
   “How could you... how could HE... live like that?”
   “You may not’ve noticed this yet, but Amet has a lot of anger at the world. I guess they used to have a huge house, and he got convinced that people were taking advantage of him. This was right around the time Kate, Maggie, Ricki, Boyd, and Cam all left. The falling out... All that was left him was Mamma and Tetica. So, he burned the house—his past—down. Mamma was angry at him for that: one of only maybe five times I ever seen her angry at him.”
   Quinn listened with wide eyes to Amet’s past, and the story of the wife he rarely mentioned.
   “Yeah, I can see why she’d be angry—he burnt all her stuff up.”
   Evzen lounged against the counter, not entering the other room, not getting any closer to Quinn.
   “Nah. Mamma lived like me. She didn’t have much. She got angry because she just found out Amet’d slept with Kate a few times after his marriage. She was real angry bout that, and accused hima tryin to kill her while she slept. This was total crap. I mean, there wan’t nobody in the house, but he got the point a how much he’d hurt her, and never fucked anybody but her till they split up.”
   Quinn looked thoughtful.
“Why did they split up, anyway? I mean, everything I’ve heard said Dji... your mother was totally in love with Amet and let him walk all over her. Amet’s not stupid. He knows a good deal when he’s fucking it. Why let that go? What happened?”
   Evzen shrugged and closed his eyes. He didn’t move or speak for a full minute. Quinn shifted uncomfortably in the stretching silence.
   “My Mamma never let him “walk all over her.” She tried ta treat him with respect an’ love, emotions totally foreign ta you.”
   “Woah, back down there, pilgrim. It’s not like anyone ever talks about her or anything, you know? I’m just trying to find out about her.”
   “Why?”
   She shifted again, and her dark eyes would not meet his.
   “Just... you know... because. It’s a part of Amet’s life.”
   She twisted the fabric of the pillowcase in her hands. Evzen watched her and wondered what she was trying to find out.
   “I ain’t et dinner yet. ‘Scuse me for a bit.”
   He turned his back on her and started rummaging through the cabinets. He pulled down a can of tomato soup and set it on the counter, then opened the fridge and pulled out a covered pot and most of a loaf of french bread. He set the pot on the stove and uncovered it. It was about a quarter full of rice. He opened the can of soup and dumped it into the pot, then added the can of water atop it. He stirred the soup with a fork, blending the concentrate and water and breaking up the lumps of rice. Quinn watched him. As the soup heated up, the smell drifted clumsily around the room. She swallowed convulsively at the smell, stomach growling. Evzen stood over the stove and stirred. The fork scraped metallic against the side of the pan. He flicked a long strand of hair behind his shoulder and left the soup to simmer. He turned to the counter and held the bread in one large hand and daintily stabbed off a slice. He chewed the bread contemplatively while he gave the soup a stir or two. Quinn looked at him and decided to break the silence.
   “Did, uhm, did your mom teach you to cook?”
   “Nah. Mamma died when I was six. I picked this up as I went along.”
   “Oh.”
   She couldn’t think of anything else to say, and lapsed back into silence. Evzen gave the soup another stir, and forked some of the rice up to his mouth. It was hot enough. He turned off the heat and poured some into a bowl. Quinn watched him as he dunked some of the bread into the bowl and ate.
   “Uhm, can I have some?”
   “Nope. I ain’t invited you here; you invaded me of your own accord. You wanta eat, go on home an eat.”
   “God, you’re a bastard.”
   “You want a friend, don’t go breakin’ inta my home and insultin’ me. You keep doin that, and I’ll keep on bein a bastard.”
   She flounced on the bed as he ate his dinner.
   “What do you do for a living? Do you really play guitar in the Quarter?”
   “I’m eatin dinner, Quinn, not talkin’.”
   “God, you suck!”
   “You don’ like it, go on home.”
   “Who’s Tetica? You kept mentioning her...”
   “My auntie Kathleen.”
   “Oh! Her. Doesn’t she hate Amet now? I mean, after what happened?”
   “Quinn. Dinner. Hush.”
   The sunlight was slanting pale gold through the port hole window, outlining Quinn’s face. It picked goldy glints out in her hair, halo-like, as she squinted against the light. She moved her head to the side, out of the light, and her glance fell on the folded up duffel bag.
   “You’re ready to go at any time, huh?”
   She leaned over and grabbed the duffel bag, pulling it off the shelf. Something beneath it thunked heavily to the floor.
   “What’s that?”
   She leaned down to pick it up. It turned out to be a small drawstring bag, lumpy in her hand. Evzen put his bowl down.
   “Hey, don’t touch that. Gimme it...”
   “Back off, soup-boy!”
She opened it quickly, dumping the contents onto the bed. Her fingers poked around.
   “What the hell? Jewelry and hair?”
She held up a thick black braid, coiled and tied with a blue ribbon.
   “Did I misjudge? Is this your girlfriend’s hair?”
   Evzen lunged across the room and snatched it out of her hand.
   “It’s my Mamma’s. Don’t you touch none that, it ain’t for the likes a you.”
   “The likes of me? And what, exactly, are my likes?”
   “You a whore and a slut, and you ain’t worthy a touchin’ my mamma’s things. Git out my bed fore I throw you out. I had enough playin’ for one night, git along home.”
   “I... don’t talk to me like that! I only wanted to talk to you... how dare you call me a slut? I’ll... I’ll...”
   “You’ll what, you gon’ tell Amet? Go on head, Quinn. But fore you do, maybe you can tell me somethin’. I used to shower with him when I was a kid. You tell me... he circumcised, or no?”
   “I... he... uh...”
   “Come on, Quinn, you his lover... he circumcised, or no?”
She lurched out of bed and shoved past him, out the door. His laughter chased her down the stairs, echoing in her head even when she had reached the street.
Evzen's main page

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Quinn attacks part 2!

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Evzen's brother Damek, by Dan Mathis.