Free The City Still Breathing by Matthew Heiti Page B

like she’s back there at centre ice in the Arena. Him skating down the wing, flashing her a mouthful of broken teeth. The whipcrack sound of one body hitting another and then the entire stadium gone silent.
    â€˜What’d they used to call him – Spider?’
    â€˜Python.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Cause he used to crush people.’
    â€˜Ooh, I like that. He looks kinda like Paul Newman.’
    â€˜Paul Newman if his face’d been run over by the zamboni. Anyway, we’re friends.’
    â€˜Friends?’ Lucy saying it like a dirty diaper. ‘Now that’s a man that can take care of you.’
    â€˜We grew up together.’
    â€˜Nice butt too.’ Lucy takes a big gulp of beer and belches, waving her hand in front of her mouth like she’s waving away the conversation. ‘You hear bout the dead guy they brought in this morning?’
    â€˜What? Where?’
    â€˜At the station. Found him out off 17. Naked, can you believe that?’ Lucy titters, The scandal, oh the scandal.
    â€˜Who is he?’
    â€˜Dunno. Nobody said yet. Gotta watch the obituaries.’ Lucy looking up as she sips her beer, that quick glance because she knows Martha already checks every day.
    A man in an overcoat reaches the top of the stairs. Tie, briefcase – government man. Smiling at someone at a far table. Not alone, not a Walter.
    â€˜So what’s he do, this Walter?’
    â€˜Uh, can’t remember, transport driver or something.’
    â€˜Huh. You shoulda stayed with that doctor.’
    â€˜I didn’t want to.’
    â€˜Why? You said there’s nothing wrong with him.’
    â€˜I know, it’s just – ’
    As Jean’s walking by with a tray full of food, Lucy pinches her sleeve and leans out in that not-to-be-a-bother way. ‘Can you bring me an eggroll, please, thanks.’ Then back to Martha. ‘Trust me, Herman’s a pain in the arse, but he’ll keep me warm this winter and it’s gonna be a cold one.’
    â€˜There’s nobody interesting left in this town.’
    â€˜Don’t be ridiculous.’
    â€˜It’s just … ’ Martha pulling out her pack with nervous fingers and lighting her second-last cigarette. ‘It’s Van.’
    Lucy puts her glass down hard. ‘Fuck’s sake, Martha.’ She puts one hand on the table and leans back to look at the ceiling.
    â€˜I know, I know.’ Martha’s puffing little gasps, hardly inhaling. ‘But I just keep thinking he’s gonna kick open that old screen door and come on in.’
    Two more men come up the stairs, looking back and forth, unsure whether to sit or wait or maybe leave. Mid-thirties – too young. Not a Walter. Not a Van.
    Lucy leans forward, here comes the crown attorney. ‘It’s been seven years.’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜Seven years!’
    â€˜I know, don’t you think I know?’
    â€˜Those weren’t the days of roses – you couldn’t agree on nothin and you bitched at each other all the time, I mean what’s to miss?’
    â€˜There was more to it than that.’
    â€˜Your memory’s goin.’ She puts her hand on top of Martha’s. ‘Look, I just want to see you happy.’ But Martha’s not sure if this is still part of the performance.
    Jean drops off the eggroll as she passes. Lucy splits the wooden chopsticks and starts rubbing them together, looking the part. Martha checks her watch, already past the hour. ‘He’s not coming.’
    â€˜That’s what I keep telling you.’
    â€˜No, this guy – Walter.’
    â€˜Give em a chance.’ She drops the eggroll three times and then just uses her fingers instead.
    â€˜Who’d they find, Lucy?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Who’d they find dead on the highway?’
    â€˜I told you – I dunno. All Louise told me is they brought him in this morning, no