Mr Peanut - Adam Ross [93]
If Sam isn’t back at the hospital, she told herself, I’ll sleep with Dick Eberling the next chance I get.
The thought made her momentarily heady. She imagined him coming to the house next Wednesday. She’d told him to bring his swim trunks and knew he would, positive he’d do anything she said. She’d have him change in Sam’s study and let him go down to the beach and swim. Then she’d go up to the bedroom, take off all her clothes, get into bed, wait until she heard him come back in the house before softly calling him upstairs. He’d come up and be docile with her—gentle, if she told him to—and she could tell him to do anything she wanted and where to touch her, and he’d do it. And from then on, he’d always be there …
Not surprisingly, what with all the parties going on this weekend, the supermarket was crowded. Chip wanted to sit in the basket and at first she said no. He was already too big for this and it would make the cart hard to push, but her other choice was to chase him around the store, so she caved and let him climb in. And he was antsy. He grabbed items, knocking things over as they passed by, so she had to stop twice to reprimand him. Afterward, he kicked his feet, rattling the cart’s cage. She took his ankles in her hands. “Stop banging your feet, please,” she said. So he started banging her hands with his. “Chip, do you want to go sit in the car?”
He looked at her, laughed, and bent double, rubbing his forehead against the back of her hand, which made her let her guard down. “You’re not going to put me in the car,” he said.
“Oh, how do you know?”
“Because you never do.”
“Maybe this will be the first time.”
“No it won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s hot and I could die.”
“Only if I left the windows up.”
“You wouldn’t leave me even if they were down.”
“And why is that?”
“Because a bad man might take me away.”
“I think you’d drive a bad man crazy too. I think a bad man would put you right back in the car and run away.”
They looked at each other and laughed, and then Marilyn took his chin in her hand.
“Well, you’re right, and that’s why I need you to sit still.”
He thought about this, during which time she enjoyed a few efficient minutes, blacking out line after line on her list, and then Chip said, “Can’t I walk with you?”
“You can, but you’ll have to walk with me. You can’t go exploring.”
He shook his head sadly, then caught sight of something on the shelves. “Can we get pickles?”
“Yes,” she said. “Pickles are on the list.” She pulled a large jar down from the shelf.
“I want to hold them,” Chip said.
“You can hold them,” she told him, “but you can’t drop them. If you do, we’ll have to pay for them, and then there won’t be any pickles to eat.” She winced, knowing what was coming next.
“Can I eat a pickle now?” he asked.
“No, you can’t,” she said, “not until we pay for it.” She tried to take the jar, but he gripped it tightly and she relented. “Until we pay for it, they’re not our pickles.”
“But we’re going to pay for it.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But you always do,” he said. His eyes were welling up. “Don’t they trust you by now?”
“Trust has nothing to do with it, Chip.” She tried to take the pickles once more and now he hugged them like a sailor gripping a mast in a storm. “This isn’t a restaurant.”
“I’m so hungry I need a pickle.”
“No,” she said, pulling down three bags of hot dog buns, “you’re going to have to wait.”
“I’m starving.”
“You’re not starving. You’re whining.” She grabbed ten pounds of ground beef, five packs of hot dogs, three packages of bratwurst, and three whole cut-up chickens. It’s not like it’s a fancy meal.
Chip began to cry. “I’m going to starve.