Benediction

23

WHEN FRANK WAS FIFTEEN and Lorraine eighteen and they were both attending Holt County Union High School, he came into her bedroom late one night. She was in her winter pajamas reading, listening to the radio turned down low. He stood in the doorway looking at her. What’s wrong? she said. He came in and shut the door. Come over here, she said. He went to her bed and stood there. Tell me.

They did it again, he said.

Oh no. What was it this time?

He told her. After football practice that afternoon some seniors and a couple juniors jumped him when he came out of the shower and held him down on the floor in the corner while he was still wet and naked and rolled him over and slapped him hard on the butt and the back of the head, laughing and calling him what they always called him, and then turned him faceup and one of the naked boys sat on him. Look at him. He likes that. One of the boys grabbed at his dick and hit it back and forth, cursing him, while the others pinched and gouged at him. One boy had an arm pressed against his throat and he could hardly breathe.

Then the coach finally heard the shouting and noise and came down the hallway. What in the goddamn hell? You boys get the hell out of here. Go on now. Goddamn it, get out of here.

They jumped up and grabbed their clothes from the metal lockers and put them on and ran out. He was still wet and naked, where they’d left him in the corner. He got up and stood shivering, shaking uncontrollably, turned sideways away from the coach, hiding himself.

What was all that? the coach said. What in damn’s name is going on here?

He wouldn’t speak. He stood shaking, burning all over.

The coach looked at him for a long time.

You better go on home. I don’t like this. Go on now.

I’m going.

What did you do to them? You must of done something.

I didn’t do a goddamn thing to those sons of bitches.

Well. I don’t know. You think you’re all right? Are you hurt?

I’m all right.

Get dressed then. Go on now. The coach watched him a while longer and shook his head and turned and went back to his office down the hallway.

He went into the toilet stall and blew his nose on the paper and washed his face at one of the sinks and got dressed and left.

I’m never going back, he told his sister now. I’m done. I’m quitting them all. I don’t care.

You don’t have to go back. You shouldn’t go back.

The goddamn assholes. He began to cry, his shoulders shaking.

She got up and drew him down on the bed and they sat together with her arm close around him. It’s all right now. It’s okay. Oh, Frankie.

He cried for a time and then stopped.

Are you going to tell Dad and Mom? she said.

No.

Then I’ll tell them.

No. Don’t say anything about this.

They’ll know something’s wrong if you come home early from school. And if you’re not suited up for the games.

I’ll tell them. I’ll make something up.

He began to cry again and she held him tighter.

Those sons of bitches.

Don’t, she said. They’re not worth it. Not one of them is worth it. You’re here. It’s okay now.

No, it isn’t, he said.

She held him as close as she could and pulled the blanket over them both. Later in the night he went back across the hall to his own bed.