Hick - Andrea Portes [56]
I grab a cigarette off the dashboard and light it, peering out into the red rocks of Mars.
“Well, then, I guess you know just about everything.”
“Just about.” Eddie sneers at me through the side of his mouth, waiting for my reply. “I know a helluva lot more than you, anyways.”
I don’t give him the benefit of an answer. I start humming to myself instead, looking out the window, trying to break through the mystery of all those red rocks beyond the darkness, casually observing us flying by in our light ship down the road. The sky has a burning to it. There’s a crispness here, like it’s fall all year round and the stars are made of glass.
I open the window and put my face into the wind, thinking about 2090 and what it’ll be like a hundred years from now with spaceships zipping by and folks never getting old and robot slaves. I think about Clement and what it takes to get skin the color of olives, glowing from underneath, like there’s a light-bulb tucked behind your earlobes.
“Close that goddamn window.”
I open it wider.
“I said close that goddamn window.”
“Why don’t you just drop me off and then you can close the window to your heart’s delight.”
“What was that?”
“I said, why don’t you just drop me off.”
“Why? So you can go back to your rich friends?”
“it’s better than being with a drunk cripple.”
Eddie slams on the brake, nearly taking off my head. I don’t know why I said that. I should not have said that. Not after drink number nine. Before I know it, he is on my side of the truck, opening the door and dragging me out. I am mustering all my courage, plotting my getaway and how far it is to the next town and if I can walk it. He grabs me by the hair and finally I don’t care anymore if I die of starvation on the red rocks of Mars. I am done with this date.
I kick him hard in the shin and start to run into the darkness, away from the headlights. He buckles over and then gives chase, limping and running, taller than me, faster. it’s black out and craggy and next thing I know, he’s coming up behind me. He grabs me by the hair and slams me to the ground.
By this point I am just kicking and clawing and scratching and kicking again, wishing I had just kept quiet, wishing I had just stayed back in Jackson, wishing Glenda would show up in a bubble, wave her magic wand and make all of this, all of this, go away.
Eddie pushes me down and pins me to the ground. I struggle and wrestle and try to squirm free, flailing my arms against him, anything. He grabs one wrist and then the other, pinning my arms above my head with one hand. I keep bucking, trying to get out from underneath him, anything, anything. I see him go for his belt buckle and start bucking harder, anything, please, anything.
He’s not even making noises now. And neither am I. Not like they do in the movies. Not like screaming and calling names. I’m just breathing hard and bucking and breathing harder. He’s straddling me but before I know it he’s got his knees between my knees. I thrash my body from side to side. He looks down at me, amused, like he’s getting off at my last-ditch effort to save myself from seeing him every night before dreaming. He shoves my legs apart with his knees.
But I’m not here anymore. I am long gone. I am back in the Motel 6 outside Devil’s Slide playing the category game with Clement. Things you can find in a hardware store. A. Ajax. B. Buzzsaw. C. Crate. D. Dustmop.
I feel a sharp pain beneath my stomach.
E. Electrical tape. F. Flooring. G. Grout.
I feel his breath on my cheek, cigarettes and whiskey, sweat.
H. Hardware. I. Insulation. J. Jack-knife.
He’s breathing hard now. His shoulder moving up and down against the night sky.
J. Jack-knife. K. Krazy Glue. L. Lumber.
He’s breathing harder.
M. Metal. N. Nails. O. Oil can.
The corner of his shoulder