Hick - Andrea Portes [60]
Then Beau stands up and Eddie moves fast to get him out the door. But Beau’s not quite ready. He takes his time on the steps, looking back. Eddie keeps making small talk but Beau’s not listening. Finally he looks back though the doorway and says, “You take care of yourself, Luli.”
Eddie closes the door quick, before I can think what to say to get Beau back.
“Shit. Fuck. Shit.”
I yawn, leaning down into the covers and making pretend I’m just too tired, too tired for any of it. I fake close my eyes and peek out at Eddie fumbling around, up to something. He’s getting up, sitting down, getting up again. He’s talking to himself, busy, busy. He locks the door, goes to the table and starts cutting up something white. He’s got that bag out on the table and he’s gonna make a dent. He likes that white bag cause he keeps getting back to it and getting back to it again. I bury my head in the pillow and start thinking of ways to get to Las Vegas.
“Eddie, where are we?” I say it sweet and sleepy, pretend drifting off.
“Nevada.”
“Yeah, but where?” Say it drifty, say it halfway to dreamland.
“I dunno. Somewhere between Elko and Jackpot.”
I nod soft, faking, trying to make a map in my head, tacking it up, putting in the pins, straightening up the paper. You-are-here and this is where you want to be, put a pin there and a pin there, too. Plot it out step-by-step.
Two hours later I open my eyes. Eddie is sitting right beside the bed in the green plaid chair, staring me down. He’s got the ropes back on. He’s got the ropes back on, and now he’s getting up, sniffing back, walking round the room. He’s got the ropes back on, but now he’s got an idea and he’s moving them. He’s moving them out the way cause he’s got other stuff to do. He’s got other stuff to do now. He’s got other stuff to do, close your eyes. He’s got plans for you. Big plans.
THIRTY–ONE
You can count the days by watching the sun make triangles slimmer and slimmer across the ceiling. You can memorize the spider web all the way up top to the left, from the ceiling to the rafters. You can raise your eyebrows when you make the discovery, early morning, that that there spider has caught itself a fly. You can fix your eye on that trapped little speck of black and then, when Eddie comes in and starts waxing poetic about my little angel and sweetheart and darlin and spreads your legs open and gets on top of you and starts making the bed go squeak squeak squeak, you can keep your eyes fixed on that stuck little fly and then throw yourself across the room and next thing you know you’re that trapped little thing, looking down at some roped-up little China doll going squeak squeak squeak and getting moved up and down, up and down, and you don’t have to stay down there. You don’t.
You just throw yourself up into the corner and watch the day burn itself down and watch that pink little hunk of flesh getting moved up down up down and used up, over and over with, and then left alone, all alone, until the next night or the next afternoon or the next set of darlins, when words come out of Eddie sweet, but you don’t have to care about that ever again, cause you can throw yourself across the room and never come back.
You get all day and night to watch yourself from across the room and daydream and nightdream and daydream some more. Today I got a daydream about rafters and Halloween and candy leftovers.
My mama, at first, took a shine to Halloween. She tried to participate. she’d buy something, some kind of Sweet-Tarts or Pixy-Stix or whatever was on sale last minute. she’d dress up like a witch with a black dress and pointy hat and paint dark-purple circles under her eyes. she’d sit around like that for hours, next to the candy bowl, ready and set. she’d practice her little witch routine, making up scary voices and different maniacal laughs. Ha ha ha! she’d sit and wait and practice. Hee hee hee! she’d click her nails and re-check