Cruddy - Lynda Barry [26]
“Where?” said Vicky. “Where’s a cop?” She was looking in every direction.
I said, “He just left. He just went down the alley after the Turtle. The car that just left. That was a cop.”
“What car?” said Vicky. “I can’t believe how you lie.” She picked up the Turtle’s stash box and wiggled it. “We got it.” She dropped it into her purse and then pulled out a mirror to check her face.
“Roberta, I have a question I really want to ask you but it’s personal to me, OK? But you have to tell me the truth, because I really want a truthful answer. Swear to god, OK? Swear to Jesus?”
“OK,” I said.
She pointed to her missing eyebrow. She said, “Roberta, is this noticeable?”
The first lie I ever told her was right then.
Chapter 14
ND BEHIND the Poky Dot Lounge a train came roaring, coal cars filled and packed down into rooftop shapes that can survive the wind. A Northern Pacific, at least a mile long. And I was standing by the car watching it and the father was around the other side taking a pee and then he came up very quiet behind me and he put his arms around me and squeezed me to him and said, “You like trains, little girl?”
And then he screamed, “SON OF A BITCH!” and tried to grab me but I was two steps out of his reach. He clutched at his forearm and shook it, looking at it and then coming at me so fast I couldn’t think to run. He delivered such a slam I saw blue light streaking. I was on the ground and he kicked me.
You remember I mentioned my biting problem.
“GODDAMNED CLEAR TO THE BONE!” He kicked me again. The blood from his arm splattered across the dirt and I was thinking it was adding its molecules, the father’s blood was adding its molecules to the composition of the dirt, I was concentrating on the molecules because I have learned that concentrating on the smallest things can proved a distraction, an escape hole to disappear down. I was concentrating on the molecules and particles and atoms while he kicked me, the spaces between the molecules can be demonstrated by taking a gallon of water and a gallon of rubbing alcohol and pouring them into a two-gallon container and you will see that it will not make two gallons, it will not reach the two-gallon line because—“YOU BIT ME! YOU FUCKING BIT ME!”
Human bites are ferocious with bacteria. They can give you kinds of infections that are hideous, very dangerous, every meat man knows about the danger of bacteria introduced deeply into open wounds and there was only one bottle of Old Skull Popper left and the father was very angry about having to waste the precious drops on sanitizing. I heard him making ow, ow noises as he poured it on.
“What the hell got into you, Clyde?” His voice was calmer. I rolled myself up and felt the stabbing pains in my side. “I could have killed you right then. Don’t put a man in that state, ever. He can’t be held responsible.”
He dripped the clear harsh liquid on the shell-shaped wound. “If it was just one inch over that way I’d be ripping your guts out for a tourniquet. What in the hell got into you?”
I was not able to reveal the true answer. The train wound away into the distance.
“Was it that little squeeze I gave you? You think I want something from you? What the hell do you have that could interest me? You ain’t even female to me.”
But he had said “little girl.” The train was a pinpoint on the horizon that vanished away. I thought that’s what he said but I didn’t feel sure. Ears played tricks. Eyes played tricks. Fingers and hands played all kinds of tricks.
It was true I like trains. I have had a certain problem around trains since I was very little. I have been very attracted to them stopped or moving but especially moving. I have never been able to get close enough to them and while trying I have done things