Mad Girls In Love (15 page)

Jeb passed by and gave me a look that said You ain't fooling me. I just sighed. In the week that I'd suffered with hiccups, I hadn't been able to eat a bite, and my jean skirt was starting to feel loose. It was a damn pitiful way to lose weight. As soon as the hiccups went away, I was going to order a pepperoni pizza and eat the whole damn thing.

I heard giggles and glanced over my shoulder. From a booth, three girls were staring at me and whispering. With a jolt, I recognized them. They were known as the Three Sarahs—best friends, all with the same first name, set apart only by their looks—two blondes and a redhead—and their middle names: Beth, Lou, and Jill. After high school, they began working for the telephone company. It was amazing that they'd kept their jobs, because they had the kind of voices that escalated into hoots and shrieks, as if they were being tortured.

I could hear their whispering. A few phrases drifted over,
kidnapping, attempted manslaughter, lost custody.
I slid off the barstool and worked my way through the gloom, sipping my drink. I sidestepped the waitress, who looked old and tired, and I wondered if I myself would still be working at the Green Parrot when I was that age. Maybe it was time to move on, apply to a community college, learn a skill. But I'd been trapped by my own stupid choices, all of them made at age nineteen. I walked up to Violet's table. The funny-looking guy grinned. “She's beating me,” he explained.

“That's why I don't play with her,” I said in a cheery voice. Finally I was starting to feel the effects of the rum.

“That's not why.” Violet turned her face up and smiled at her friend. “You know what, Danny? The real reason Bitsy won't play backgammon is she can't multiply. She adds everything on a cocktail napkin.”

I wanted to hit her, but I was afraid I'd spill my drink, and I knew Jeb wouldn't give me another. “Stop picking on me.”

“Relax, Ditsy. Have a seat,” said the weird guy, and Violet emitted a shrill giggle, causing the Three Sarahs to lean out of their booth and stare.

“Ditsy?” I said. It was amazing how a consonant changed everything. The same for vowels. A while back, when I was studying the Ls in Violet's big
Merriam-Webster,
I'd come across labial and labile. I would hate to mix up those two words. Violet just loved to twist a person's name. She called me things like Itsy and Bitchy, resorting to Bessie when she was peeved. I fought back. “Calm down, Violent,” I would say. “Don't get your panties in a wad, Violin.”

A half hour later, we lurched out of the bar into warm air that smelled faintly of cedar. The sky was dusky blue, except for a swirl of burning pink clouds in the west. In minutes it would be dark. Danny stood in the doorway, backlit by smoky yellow light. “Y'all shouldn't drive,” he called, sticking his hands under his armpits. He glanced up at the sky. “It's dangerous.”

“We've done it a million times,” Violet said, walking backward, grinning at him. Her jeans were tight, outlining her narrow hips. Her belt was studded with turquoise and silver, a souvenir from a trip to New Mexico back when Aunt Clancy had lived there. Several strands of dark hair had fallen from her upsweep, and she pushed them away. She had no idea that she was beautiful.

Danny frowned and rubbed his chin, brushing one hand over his hair, smoothing the cowlick for an instant before it popped back up. “It's still not safe. You just never know what's out there.”

“Like what?” Violet lifted one eyebrow at Danny in a meaningful way.

“The cops,” I said, eyeing my Mustang. “You know, he's right. Maybe we should call your mother.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Violet shoved me toward the car. “We don't have far to go. We'll be fine.”

“You drive,” I called to Violet, holding up the keys. On the ring was a miniature rubber ducky, and it actually floated.

“No, you.” Violet leaned against the Mustang and tilted back her head, looking up at the sky. It was getting darker by the second, and stars began to appear over the mountains.

“Hey!” somebody called from inside the bar. “Close the fucking door, man. All the air's blowing out!”

“Just be careful,” Danny called. In slow-motion, he stepped back into the building and closed the door behind him, but I could see him looking out through its square window, his fingers spread on the glass.

“He seems fond of you,” I said.

“No, he's just weird,” Violet said. “He believes in little green men.”

“Leprechauns?”

“Hell no, space men. Aliens.”

“Seriously?” I glanced back at the bar. I could see Danny peering through the little window.

“Someday I'm going to live in a place where the temperature never goes above seventy degrees.” Violet fanned herself.

I started to say me, too, then I held my breath, one hand rising to my throat.

“What's wrong?” Violet asked.

“I stopped hiccupping.”

“See? I told you it worked.” Violet flashed a triumphant smile. She ran one slender hand along her slicked-back hair, looking more and more Audrey-ish. “Where to next? The Tap Room? Or what about the Sheraton?”

“Let's go home and order a pizza, extra sausage and pepperoni. I'm starved.”

As soon as I started the engine, I felt the full force of those mai tais. I peered through the windshield, and the road swayed. Gripping the wheel, I steered cautiously out of the lot, but I still managed to roll over a concrete curb. The car rocked violently, tossing Violet in the bucket seat.

“Hey watch out!” She reached for the dash.

“I
asked
you to drive.” I tapped the brake and the car lurched to a stop. “You want to take over?”

“I'm more pie-eyed than you. Just get us home, Bessie.”

“Then don't backseat drive, Violence,” I shot back. Whenever I got scared, my voice climbed higher and higher; I was already petrified at the prospect of navigating over the bridge that spanned the Cumberland River. I had visions of plunging through the spindly green railing. Violet and I would break every bone in our bodies—if the crash didn't kill us outright, like it had done to Alice Ann's mother. I squinched up my forehead, wondering how that child was tormenting Eunice and Odell, or if they'd sent her to that school in Arkansas.

“Maybe if I shut my eyes,” Violet was saying.

I hit the gas, and the tires spit gravel.

“Holy mother of God.” Violet crossed herself; she wasn't even Catholic, she was nothing.

“I really think we should go back inside and call Aunt Clancy,” I said.

“We're not calling anybody.” Violet flipped one hand at the road. “Now drive the goddamn car or I'm going to pull out every bleached hair on your head.”

“It is
not
bleached.”

“Liar. I saw a Summer Blonde box in the trash.”

“I'm not the only blonde in the house.” I eased my foot onto the gas pedal and wondered if Danny was still watching. My Mustang had kicked up so much dust that the Hut's crazy Christmas lights were barely visible. I made a wide turn onto the gravel road, riding the brake. The car inched forward. There were no other cars, thank God, because I couldn't have handled the distraction. When I was drunk, I needed the road to myself. By the time I'd passed by the raspberry field, it was twilight, and the moon was hovering over the trees. The road forked, and I hit the brake. While the engine idled, I considered the options. I could turn left and be home in ten minutes, but I'd have to cross that damn bridge. Also, police cars liked to wait on the other side of the river. If they pulled me over, I would get a ticket or even thrown in jail—and the Wentworths would cut off my visitations with Jennifer, just as swiftly as they'd started them. If I turned right, I could avoid the police, but it was a dangerous route that hugged the river and crossed over not one but three dilapidated bridges. But that road was desolate and I could drive as slow as I pleased.

“What's the holdup?” Violet asked irritably.

“I'm trying to decide which way to turn.”

“Jesus Christ, it's a road, not an entree at Howard Johnson's. Just pick one.”

I hesitated a second more, then turned right. The road was so narrow that Queen Anne's lace brushed against the sides of the car, making a whuffling noise. Bugs hit the windshield.

“Dammit, I should've gone to the restroom before we left.” Violet groaned. “I've got to pee something awful.”

“Let me find a place to pull over.” I pushed my face toward the wind-shield, but all I saw were weeds and potholes.

“I'm not going in the damn bushes. I might get chigger bites. So I'm just going to stick my little butt out the window and piss.”

“Violet!” I drew back, horrified. “Men p-i-s-s. Girls tee-tee.”

“Oh, don't be stupid. I've peed out of moving cars before.”

“Not with me, you haven't.”

“I've done it in Knoxville. All the coeds do it. Even the cheerleaders. It's more faddish than streaking.”

“It's gross. What if you dribble some tee-tee on my car? Or
inside
my car. Just let me stop, okay?”

“Come on, loosen up. Be a part of the younger generation.”

“I
am
.”

“No, Bessie, you're stuck in the early sixties.”

“I'm not the one with a Holly Golightly bun.”

“It's a French twist, Bessie, not a bun.”

“Don't call me that! And I don't want my car to smell like pee.”

“It won't. I promise. Look, I know how to do this.” Violet unbuckled her belt and peeled down her jeans. My cousin's buttocks were firm and round, and quite a bit slimmer than my own, even with my recent starvation.

“Quit staring.
Drive,
” Violet ordered. She sat up on her knees and swiveled her nakedness toward the window. Gripping the roof of the car, she raised herself from her seat and leaned out, butt first.

“Now speed up,” she said, her hair blowing out of the Audrey bun. “Hurry, unless you want piss everywhere.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, tapping my foot on the brake. Even when Violet was sober, it was difficult to reason with her. Once she made up her mind, that was it.

“You better pray this road stays empty,” I added. “Oncoming traffic could lop off half your behind.”

“Not unless it's going in the wrong direction.” Violet was precariously balanced—her head and shoulders leaning into the car, her bottom jutting out, knees bent, her cork shoes pressing down on the armrest, denting the vinyl. Both hands clutched the roof of the car. She squinched her eyes shut, and two lines appeared on her forehead. Then she drew back her lips, showing small, crooked teeth. Individual droplets of urine blew out into the night air, pale yellow against the darkness.

“Ahhhh,” she exhaled, and her mouth went slack with pleasure. Then she squealed. “Viva le fuck! Faster, Bitsy! I can feel piss blowing on my legs.”

“Okay, okay!” I pressed my foot against the accelerator and the car shot ahead, the headlights carving out two tunnels of light.

“Perfect, just
per-fact
!” Violet whooped, then she pushed her butt farther out the window. “I'm just gonna air dry. God, this feels good.”

I sighed with relief, thankful it was over. I looked away from the road and started to tell Violet to get back in, but before I could speak, the front tires hit a deep pothole. The force lifted me out of my seat, and the top of my head smacked into the car's padded roof. Then my body slammed down roughly, dropping me back into the seat. The headlights shone on the road—straight ahead were a dozen more huge potholes, and I was headed straight toward them.

Violet was still holding on to the roof of the car. She hadn't screamed, even though her mouth was open wide. I clenched the wheel. Then both tires plunged into another crater. Violet lost her balance and fell out of the window, arms and legs wheeling. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I leaned across the seat, trying to grab my cousin's ankles, but I was too late. Violet rolled off into the darkness. Stop the car, I thought. Find Violet, get help—in that order. I meant to hit the brake but the mai tais had disordered my brain, and I hit the accelerator. The car lurched ahead, veering away from the road, the headlights picking out weeds and saplings. Oak branches battered the windshield, and dried cornstalks crunched beneath the tires. I stomped against the brake. The car stopped abruptly, causing me to rise from my seat again, straight into the wind-shield. My forehead hit something cold and hard and then everything went black.

 

The headlights burned into the dark, shining through a curtain of oak leaves. I rose up, feeling dozy. Then I remembered. Violet was somewhere in the darkness. And I had to find her. My head throbbed as I scrambled out of the car, weaving back and forth in the tall grass. My legs felt rubbery, and it wasn't because of the Candies. The road was knotty, and I kept tripping into potholes. Twice I fell down and skinned my knees.

“Violet?” I called, then strained to listen. Nothing but the katydids beckoning from the weeds, harsh mating calls:
ch-ch-ch
. I heard the buzz of crickets, the deep, piglike grunt of a swamp frog. I had learned to identify them when Aunt Clancy and I were going to teach Jennifer about nature. I heard other, stranger sounds and I wondered what was out there in the dark.

“Violet?” I called again. A whippoorwill answered, the faint notes hanging in the air.

I heard a moan and whirled around, trying to sense the direction, but everything was black. “Over here,” Violet cried weakly. “In the g-goddamn ditch.”

“Keep talking so I can find you,” I called. Despite the heat, I was shaking all over, and I could barely see where I was going. I staggered in the general direction of Violet's voice. I found her sprawled in a ditch. The remnants of her Audrey bun were hanging to one side. I didn't see any blood, but it was very dark.