Shiloh and Other Stories - Bobbie Ann Mason [65]
“You must be an expert,” says Georgeann, looking at him skeptically.
“You catch on after a while.”
The man says he is a trucker. He wears a yellow billed cap and a denim jacket lined with fleece. He says, “You’re good. Get a load of them fingers.”
“I play the piano.”
“Are you with them church people?”
“Unh-huh.”
“You don’t look like a church lady.”
Georgeann plugs in another quarter. “This could be an expensive habit,” she says idly. It has just occurred to her how good-looking the man is. He has curly sideburns that seem to match the fleece inside his jacket.
“I’m into Space Invaders myself,” the trucker says. “See, in Galaxians you’re attacking from behind. It’s a kind of cowardly way to go at things.”
“Well, they turn around and get you,” says Georgeann. “And they never stop coming. There’s always more of them.”
The man takes off his cap and tugs at his hair, then puts his cap back on. “I’d ask you out for a beer, but I don’t want to get in trouble with the church.” He laughs. “Do you want a Coke? I’ll buy you a Co-Cola.”
Georgeann shakes her head no. She starts the new game. The aliens are flying in formation. She begins the chase. When the game ends—her best yet—she turns to look for the man, but he has left.
Georgeann spends most of the rest of the retreat in the basement, playing Galaxians. She doesn’t see the trucker again. Eventually, Shelby finds her in the basement. She has lost track of time, and she has spent all their reserve cash. Shelby is treating her like a mental case. When she tries to explain to him how it feels to play the game, he looks at her indulgently, the way he looks at shut-ins when he takes them baskets of fruit. “You forget everything but who you are,” Georgeann tells him. “Your mind leaves your body.” Shelby looks depressed.
As they drive home, he says, “What can I do to make you happy?”
Georgeann doesn’t answer at first. She’s still blasting aliens off a screen in her mind. “I’ll tell you when I can get it figured out,” she says slowly. “Just let me work on it.”
Shelby lets her alone. They drive home in silence. As they turn off the main highway toward the house, she says suddenly, “I was happy when I was playing that game.”
“We’re not children,” says Shelby. “What do you want—toys?”
At home, the grass needs cutting. The brick house looks small and shabby, like something abandoned. In the mailbox, Shelby finds his reassignment letter. He has been switched to the Deep Springs church, sixty miles away. They will probably have to move. Shelby folds up the letter and puts it back in the envelope, then goes to his study. The children are not home yet, and Georgeann wanders around the house, pulling up the shades, looking for things that have changed in her absence. A short while later, she goes to Shelby’s study, knocking first. One of his little rules. She says, “I can’t go to Deep Springs. I’m not going with you.”
Shelby stands up, blocking the light from the windows. “I don’t want to move either,” he says. “But it’s too awful far to commute.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want to go at all. I want to stay here by myself so I can think straight.”
“What’s got into you lately, girl? Have you gone crazy?” Shelby draws the blind on the window so the sun doesn’t glare in. He says, “You’ve got me so confused. Here I am in this big crisis and you’re not standing by me.”
“I don’t know how.”
Shelby snaps his fingers. “We can go to a counselor.”
“I went to that marriage workshop and it was a lot of hooey.”
Shelby’s face has a pallor, Georgeann notices. He is distractedly thumbing through some papers, his notes from the conference. Georgeann realizes that Shelby is going to compose a sermon directed