Honeymooners A Cautionary Tale (18 page)

Good God, Lindsay said, do
my tits need a shave, too?

No, not quite yet, Jim said
as he caressed Lindsay’s breasts with his soapy hands. —Maybe
tomorrow. I just like how they feel and look all soapy and slick in
the candlelight. So, did you and Ralph ever take a bath together?
I’m just curious, mildly curi¬ous, that’s all. I don’t care what
you’ve done, you know, in the sex department, with other men. I can
forgive you for anything you’ve done with other men.

You can forgive me for
anything I’ve done with other men? Lindsay said, and tossed her
head, laughing. —Well, lucky me.

I didn’t mean it the way it
sounded. But did you, you know, take a bath with Ralph?

Not that I can immediately
recall.

Have you done it with many
other men?

It? You’ll have to be more
specific, hon. Done what exactly?

You know, taken baths. Or
showers. Those things.

A few, I suppose. I am a
very clean-cut girl. I believe in a vig-orous program of personal
hygiene.

Plus you like to wash things
before you eat them, right? Like a raccoon does.

I didn’t say that, you did.
But raccoons are pretty smart ani¬mals, you know, Lindsay
said.

The phone began to ring from
the bedroom. Lindsay didn’t make a move to get it. It rang and
rang.

Ain’t you gonna get
that?

Nope.

Why not? It might be
somebody or something important.

I don’t care. I’m happy
right where I am.

Are you afraid of who it
might be? What if it’s old Ralph?

I don’t want to speak with
Ralph right now. The only man I’m afraid of is that crazy Larry I
told you about. That nut. That nut made my life miserable. I tried
to break off with him, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. Even after I
started dating Milo he would follow me. Once he followed me to
Milo’s. There was a ter¬rible scene. He slapped poor Milo around in
his own living room. I called the police. Larry ran out screaming
it was not over yet. I’ve always been afraid crazy Larry is going
to slip back into town and cause big trouble. That nut carried
knives. He was always sharpening those knives. Larry was a very
dangerous man. I’m sorry to babble. Just before you and I got
together, I thought I spotted somebody following me around, and I
thought maybe it was him. But I was just being paranoid,
probably.

Slapping old Milo around is
no big deal in the tough-guy department. I’ve known nuts like that
Larry. You aren’t being paranoid. You can’t be too careful with
nutcases like that. Did you recognize him as the nut who was
following you around?

I couldn’t tell who was
following me. He was a stranger to me. I never got a good look,
really. Maybe he wasn’t anybody at all. Probably I simply imagined
him.

You can’t be too careful.
That older guy I pulled those armed robberies with, that guy I told
you about, Morris Hacket, he said that he planned on looking me up
again someday, if he ever got out of the can, in order to reward me
for ratting him out. I keep my eyes open. I look over my shoulder.
You don’t have to worry about that nut following you when I’m
around, whoever he was. I can take care of that Larry creep for
you. I can be a dangerous man, too.

Lindsay took Jim’s hat off
his head and placed it on her own.

Hey, I need that old
hat.

I want to be lucky for a
change.

That’s more than my lucky
hat. That’s my magic fictioneer hat. I like to wear that hat when I
write. I need it. Sort of like old Frosty the
Fictioneer.

Are you writing right
now?

You can never tell. Maybe.
Well, so how many men would you say you’ve hopped in some hot water
with? Offhand?

Does a sauna
count?

Shore. If you were, you
know, naked as the day you were born.

God. Offhand? Well, okay,
let’s see, Lindsay said, and began to count off on her fingers.
—Honey, can it be off-foot, too?

Off what?

Foot. I’ve run out of
fingers, Lindsay said. She lifted a foot from the water and began
to count on her toes.

Just forget it, Jim told
her. He took his fedora from Lindsay’s head and replaced it on his
own, where it belonged.

Oh, don’t get pouty,
Li

I ain’t gettin* pouty. I’m
just kidding around. Besides, Mis¬soula is just a small one-horse
town.

What in the world does that
mean? Missoula is the second- largest city in the state, as a
matter of fact.

It is?

Yes, but that doesn’t mean
much outside Montana, I suppose. The population of Missoula
probably isn’t much more than, oh, thirty thousand.

Thirty thousand? Thirty
fucken thousand?

Yup. What’s the
point?

There’s no point really. The
Buffalo told me you’d fucked about half the men in town. But I was
under the impression that Missoula was just a one-horse
town.

Did he say one-horse or
one-whore? You jerks. He’s such an asshole.

I’m just kidding
around.

How wonderful to hear that
my love life is such a hot topic of conversation among you bozo
boys. Don’t you boys think with anything besides your
boners?

I’m kidding around, I told
you.

Jim, it’s you I love,
Lindsay said. She took the fedora back off his head and replaced it
on her own. —See. Now all I need is a black beard, about a hundred
pounds, a hairy chest, and a peepee, and we’d be like the same
person, we are so close. And it has happened so quickly. That’s how
I feel about us. I trust in us. I trust in you, hon. I’ve never
really talked with another man about having, you know, rug-rats, as
you call them. Really, I’ve never felt this way with another
man.

I reckon we had best get
hitched, then, Jim said.

Is that a proposal, Mr.
Stark?

It ain’t no
proposition.

Wouldn’t that effectively
make you a bigamist? Isn’t that against the law, even in
California?

You know what I mean. As
soon as I get divorced, let’s go on and just do it.

Well, why not? I’ve always
aspired to be some sort of hillbilly bride, barefoot and pregnant,
Lindsay said, and laughed. —Are you really a dangerous man, Jim
Stark? Lindsay said.

I can be.

Are you a fringy?

I can be.

How can you be a fringy and
teach at a place like Stanford?

Stanford has fellowships
just for fringies. I can just be a little dangerous now and then,
that’s all. I had to learn to fight when I was a kid. It was
totally against my basically sweet, cuddly-teddy- bear nature, of
course, but I had to learn. Because of those scars from the
operations, the other kids liked to make fun of me. You know how
kids are, cruel little fucks. Kids would point at me in gym showers
and make fun of me and my scars, so I learned how to kick their
asses for it.

I love my scar, Lindsay
said. —My scar made me beautiful. Not that I’ve ever really felt
beautiful a moment in my life. People just told me I was beautiful.
I was a fat girl all my life. A fat fringy. Then I had to have an
emergency appendectomy, and in what seemed like overnight I lost
twenty-five pounds. I was deathly ill, but that was okeydokey by
me. Well, afterward it was okeydokey. Suddenly I was this new thin
girl. It was like having a baby in that respect, losing all that
blubber. That is one dumb analogy. But anyway, suddenly everybody
told me I was beautiful and love was just mine for the asking.
Would you like to touch my scar for luck?

Anything for luck, Jim
said.

Here you go, Lindsay said,
and took Jim’s hand. She traced his forefinger along the small blue
scar on her lower right side. —Not much of a price to pay for
becoming beautiful overnight, huh? Now it’s my turn, Lindsay
said.

Say what?

I could use some luck, too.
You aren’t afraid I’ll laugh and make fun of your scars, are you?
I’d never do that. I don’t want to get my ass kicked, that’s for
sure.

It’s nothing like that, Jim
told her.

Lindsay smiled and softly
jabbed a finger into Jim’s stomach, whose muscles he attempted to
tighten without grunting.

You can’t really see my
scars anymore, Jim told Lindsay. —I’m too fucken hairy.

I can feel them, Lindsay
said. Lindsay slid her hand down onto Jim’s lower abdomen, the back
of her hand pressing against the back of his boner as her fingers
felt through his hair for his scars.

I think I feel them, Lindsay
said. —I really hope this will bring us luck. I want a houseful of
kids someday.

We can do that, Jim said.
—With just a little help from med¬ical science, like I told you.
How many kids? Jim said.

I’ve heard they’re cheaper
by the dozen, Lindsay said.

That’s what I’ve heard, too.
But I’d settle for a single son. I’d teach him stuff. I’d teach him
the sort of stuff a son needs to live by.

You mean manly stuff?
All-American-boy stuff? How to hunt and fish and play
football?

No. I mean really important
stuff. How to hot-wire a car. The ancient art of sucker punching.
How to case a joint. How to be cool. You know, important
stuff.

I see, Lindsay said, and
laughed. —Really important all- American-Criminal-Boy stuff,
Lindsay said, and cupped her hand under Jim’s dick, gently rubbing
her fingers over what passed as his scrotum. —Now exactly what were
those meany adults hop¬ing to find down here? Your
tonsils?

My balls. Finally they just
threw in the towel.

And you were at the Mayo
Clinic three times?

Four. I was at the
world-famous Mayo Clinic four times. For all the good it got
me.

Turn your head to one side
and cough, please, Mr. Stark.

Cough cough
cough.

Again, please.

Cough cough
cough.

Have you been eating your
beets, young man?

I recken. I clean up my
plate, Doc, ma’am.

You are an extremely good
boy. Now you continue to eat all your beets and anything else your
Mommy waves in front of your face and you will grow up with a
great, big, amazing boner. That will be fifty dollars, please. Pay
the nurse on your way out, please.

Fifty bucks was worth
this.

I can tell, young man,
Lindsay said, and squeezed Jim’s hard dick. She moved her hand
under the water between his legs and kept going. She slowly slid
her middle finger up his ass.

Holy moly, Jim said.
—Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you just stuck your finger
up my, you know, behind.

Hurt, baby?

Nope. Well, yes, but I plan
to be a very brave boy. Holy moly. What a neat maneuver, Nurse
Nancy. Do you take all the boys’ temperatures this way?

Only if they have been good.
God, I’ve found it, honey! Found what?

Whatever it was those meany
adults were always looking for. I’ve found it. I’ve struck gold,
hon.

You mean you really feel
something? Really? Jesus. What do you feel? Is it like a, you know,
lump or something?

I’m not certain, hon. But I
think it feels like . . . Yes, that’s what it feels
like.

Like a lump or something?
Jesus. Really?

No, not exactly like a lump,
exactly. It’s more like ... like ... Jesus, Lindsay, more like
what?

Like what?

Pizza poop!

Sacred Cows

1

The pool was in the center
of the motel courtyard amid a garden of palms and flowering plants.
It was kidney-shaped, with a small cabana, tiled like the pool red
and white at its larger end. At the pool's smaller end stood a
small marble statue, a pink Cupid with a thin stream of water
arching from its pursed lips into the pool. Blue and green
spotlights were arranged in the palms with their beams playing on
the pool. Here and there in the thick flowering bushes under the
palms stood brightly painted plaster-of-Paris peacocks.