Shiloh and Other Stories - Bobbie Ann Mason [64]
A fat woman in a pink dress says, “God made man so that he can’t resist a woman’s adoration. She should treat him as a priceless treasure, for man is the highest form of creation. A man is born of God—and just think, you get to live with him.”
“That’s so exciting I can hardly stand it,” says a young woman, giggling, then looking around innocently with an expansive smile.
“Christians are such beautiful people,” says the fat woman. “And we have such nice-looking young people. We’re not dowdy at all.”
“People just get that idea,” someone says.
A tall woman with curly hair stands up and says, “The world has become so filled with the false, the artificial—we have gotten so phony that we think the First Lady doesn’t have smelly feet. Or the Pope doesn’t go to the bathroom.”
“Leave the Pope out of this,” says the fat woman in pink. “He can’t get married.” Everyone laughs.
Georgeann stands up and asks a question. “What do you do if the man you’re married to—this is just a hypothetical question—say he’s the cream of creation and all, and he’s sweet as can be, but he turns out to be the wrong one for you? What do you do if you’re just simply mismatched?”
Everyone looks at her.
—
Shelby stays busy with the workshops and lectures, and Georgeann wanders in and out of them, as though she is visiting someone else’s dreams. She and Shelby pass each other casually on the path, hurrying along between the lodge and the conference building. They wave hello like friendly acquaintances. In bed she tells him, “Christella Simmons told me I looked like Mindy on Mork and Mindy. Do you think I do?”
Shelby laughs. “Don’t be silly,” he says. When he reaches for her, she turns away.
Georgeann walks by the lake. She watches seagulls flying over the water. It amazes her that seagulls have flown this far inland, as though they were looking for something, the source of all that water. They are above the water, flying away from her. She expects them to return, like hurled boomerangs. The sky changes as she watches, puffy clouds thinning out into threads, a jet contrail intersecting them and spreading, like something melting: an icicle. The sun pops out. Georgeann walks past a family of picnickers. The family is having an argument over who gets to use an inner tube first. The father says threateningly, “I’m going to get me a switch!” Georgeann feels a stiffening inside her. Instead of letting go, loosening up, relaxing, she is tightening up. But this means she is growing stronger.
Georgeann goes to the basement of the lodge to buy a Coke from a machine, but she finds herself drawn to the electronic games along the wall. She puts a quarter in one of the machines, the Galaxian. She is a Galaxian, with a rocket ship something like the “Enterprise” on Star Trek, firing at a convoy of fleeing, multicolored aliens. When her missiles hit them, they make satisfying little bursts of color. Suddenly, as she is firing away, three of them—two red ships and one yellow ship—zoom down the screen and blow up her ship. She loses her three ships one right after the other and the game is over. Georgeann runs upstairs to the desk and gets change for a dollar. She puts another quarter in the machine and begins firing. She likes the sound of the firing and the siren wail of the diving formation. She is beginning to get the hang of it. The hardest thing is controlling the left and right movements of her rocket ship with her left hand as she tries to aim or to dodge the formation. The aliens keep returning and she keeps on firing and firing until she goes through all her quarters.
After supper, Georgeann removes her name badge and escapes to the basement again. Shelby has gone to the evening service, but she told him she had a headache. She has five dollars’ worth of quarters, and she loses two of them before she can regain her control. Her game improves and she scores 3,660. The high score of the day, according to the machine, is 28,480. The situation is dangerous