Flesh

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alison didn’t know why she was here. She had left the house after lunch and started walking with no destination in mind, just the desire to be alone and to be outside.

The wandering had taken her down Summer Street, to within sight of Evan’s apartment. She was finished with him, but she gazed across the street at his building as if to punish herself. She saw two windows on the second story that belonged to his rooms. The shades were open. Was he inside? Was Tracy Morgan with him? Was he alone and would he see her passing by and come after her?

He didn’t come after her.

Alison had walked on, feeling empty.

Not knowing why, she’d ended up here—in the woods above Clinton Creek. The creek was swollen and rushing. It washed around islands of rock. Occasionally, it carried along tree limbs, casualties of last night’s storm.

Alison made her way carefully down the steep embankment. At the water’s edge, she noticed a familiar, flat-topped rock. During her years in Clinton, especially when she’d been a freshman and an emotional wreck, she had spent a lot of time on this very rock. Standing on it, sitting on it, sometimes with her bare feet in the water. She used to think of it as Solitary Rock. It was where she always came to be alone when she was feeling low.

She had forgotten about it. She had been down here several times over the past few months, had probably seen Solitary Rock and maybe even stood on it without remembering that it used to be so special.

Now she remembered. She stepped onto it and sat down, drawing her knees up and hugging them against her body.

This is nice, she thought. No wonder I used to come here all the time.

She heard a car cross the bridge, a sound much like that of the rushing water. She looked toward the bridge, but it was hidden by trees beyond the bend in the stream. She looked the other way and saw only the stream sluicing around a rocky curve. The slopes on both sides were heavy with bushes and trees. She saw no one, but wondered if there were couples concealed in nooks among the foliage or rocks, making love.

It was just around that bend where she and Evan…

It was a secluded, sunlit pocket with waist-high rocks on both sides and the stream at one end. A dense bramble at the other end sheltered them from anyone who might be looking down the slope. They could’ve been seen from the opposite embankment, but nobody ever went over there. They sat on the blanket that Evan always kept in the trunk of his car. They ate sharp cheddar on crackers and drank white wine from Alison’s bota, squeezing the bag to squirt it into their mouths, into each other’s mouths, laughing when they missed. When her blouse was soaked, she took it off and lay back on the blanket. Evan, kneeling between her legs, spurted the cool wine onto her neck and chest and breasts. It trickled down her skin, tickling. The laughter had stopped. He aimed at her nipples, the thin stream of wine hitting and splashing off one, then the other. Then he licked her. He made a puddle of wine in the hollow of her navel, and as he lapped at that he opened her jeans.

That had been Sunday afternoon. A week ago, tomorrow.

How could things have gone wrong so fast?

Don’t idealize it, she told herself. It had been great—fun and thrilling and then incredible. But not quite right. You only planned on a picnic by the stream. You never intended to have sex with him, not there where anyone could show up and find you at it. But when he soaked your blouse with wine, you knew what he wanted and you went along with it. For Evan, not for yourself. Because you didn’t want to disappoint him. And that is not the best of all possible reasons.

Hell, she thought, it sure didn’t bother you much at the time.

Shortly afterward, though.

If there are regrets, they start in fast, before you even have time to get your clothes back on. If there aren’t regrets, you know that, too. There had been times when Alison felt right afterward. Not recently, though. Not with Evan. Maybe not since Jimmy, the summer after high school graduation.

Jimmy. It was missing him, more than anything else, that had brought her so often to Solitary Rock during her freshman year. Especially after the letter that began, “I will always cherish the memories of what we shared together, but…” But she was eight hundred miles from Jimmy and he’d fallen for Cynthia Younger in his world civ class.

Sitting on Solitary Rock with the sun warm on her head and back, Alison didn’t feel the loss of Jimmy. She had finished with the pain and bitterness a long time ago. Instead, she inspected the memories of Jimmy and the way her life had gone since then.

The guys she had dated. The guys she had been serious about. The ones she had slept with.

Four of those, she thought, but only three if you don’t count Tom and you shouldn’t count Tom because that was only once and we were drunk. So three after Jimmy—Dave, Larry, and Evan. And it hadn’t been really right with any of them.

Good, but not right. Not wonderful. Not without those regrets sneaking in.

She wondered how she would feel about Nick Winston, the guy she’d met last night at Wally’s. Thinking about Nick, she felt no eagerness to see him again. Probably a nice guy, but…

Her rump was starting to hurt. She changed positions, lowering her legs and crossing them. Leaning back, she pressed her palms against the rock and braced herself up. She lifted her face into the sunlight. The heat felt wonderful. She imagined going now to the secluded place where she had been with Evan, taking off her clothes, and feeling the sun all over her body.

No way, she thought.

But she leaned forward and pulled her skirt up high on her legs. She unbuttoned her blouse, lifted its front, and tied it around her ribs. Then she leaned back again, bracing herself on stiff arms. That was better—feeling the sun on her chest and belly and thighs. The sun, and the mild breeze.

So I’ve struck out a few times in the man department, she thought. It’s not the end of the world. I’m twenty-one, not bad to look at. No reason to let this stuff get me down. I’m better off without Evan, better off alone than getting stuck with a guy who isn’t exactly right. Hold out for the one who is right and don’t lie to myself when one isn’t. That’s the main thing.

Later, when Alison left, she didn’t return to Summer Street. She felt peaceful, and had no need to tease or punish herself by walking past Evan’s apartment. She walked the length of the wooded park, saw a few strolling couples. She spotted lovers leaning against a tree deep in the shadows, and felt only a moment of sorrow.

At the house, she found Celia asleep on the sofa with her headphones on. The quiet tapping of a typewriter came from beyond the closed door of Helen’s room. Alison stepped to the door and knocked. “Yo,” Helen said.

She opened it. Helen scooted her chair back, turned it around, and looked at Alison from under a transparent green visor.

“Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

“Just Celia bitching about her aches and pains, though I don’t believe I would call that exciting.”

“Any calls?” she asked. Why do I care? she wondered. I don’t. But she felt a letdown when Helen shook her head.

“Nary a one. Your public must be otherwise occupied.”

“Just as well.”

“I thought you were finished with Evan.”

“I am. I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Celia got a call from Danny Gard, wanted to go out romping with her tonight. You should’ve heard her pissing and moaning.” Helen scrunched her face. “‘No, I can’t. No, I wasn’t just fine last night, I was in aaaagony. Maybe next week. Maybe next month. No, it’s not you, it’s meeee. I’m in pain. I can hardly moooove.’”

“Celia isn’t really going to stay home on a Saturday night,” Alison said.

“Nah. She’s just waiting for a better offer. I guess she didn’t have a great time with him last night.”

“He’s a gross character. Last time I saw him, he was at Wally’s engaged in a belching contest with Lisa Ball.”

“He’s a Sig,” Helen said, as if that explained it.

Alison nodded. “His idea of a high time is lighting farts.”

Grinning, Helen asked, “You know that from personal experience?”

“I’ve heard him pontificate on—” The sudden jangle of the telephone stopped her words. She felt herself go tight. “I’ll get it,” she muttered, and hurried into the living room.

Don’t let it be Evan, she thought.

Her hand trembled as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Celia?”

Thank God. “Just a moment, please,” she said. Celia, still on the sofa, had her eyes closed. The music from the headset had probably covered the blare of the ringing phone. Alison wondered if she was asleep.

Helen appeared in the doorway of her room. She raised her bushy eyebrows.

Alison covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “It’s for Celia.”

“A guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Find out who it is.”

“Who may I tell her is calling?” Alison asked.

“This is Jason Banning.”

“Thank you. Just a moment.” She covered the mouthpiece again. “Jason, the actor, that scuzzball’s roommate.”

“The freshman.”

Nodding, Alison set down the phone and hurried to the sofa. She nudged Celia’s shoulder. The girl frowned and mumbled and kept her eyes shut. Alison lifted one of the mufflike speakers off her ear. “Hey, snoozy, you got a wakeup call.”

“Huh?”

“You got an admirer on the phone.”

A single eyelid struggled upward. “Huh? Who is…?”

“Jason.”

She raised her other eyelid. Her gaze slid sideways to Alison. “Jason? Jason Banning?”

“That’s the one.”

“Be damn,” she mumbled.

“Want me to tell him you can’t come to the phone?”

“Eat my shorts.” She pulled the headset off and slowly sat up, groaning. “God, I’m death warmed over.”

Alison brought the phone closer. She placed it on the coffee table and handed the receiver to Celia.

“Hi, Jason,” Celia said. She sounded cheerful and friendly and in tip-top shape.

Alison looked at Helen. Helen shook her head and chuckled.

“Yeah, some bastard ran me off the road…No, not too bad. I’m not too pretty to look at, but…Well, that’s just ’cause you haven’t seen me…Oh? Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing you either…Tonight?…No, I don’t have any plans that I can’t get out of…”

Helen, still shaking her head, swiveled her eyes upward.

“That’d be great. What time?…Okay. Great…Terrific. See you then.” She held out the phone, and Alison hung it up for her.

“Are you sure you’re up to a date?”

“He’s taking me to the Lobster Shanty, I’m up to that.”

“Decent,” Alison said. The Lobster Shanty was the finest restaurant in Clinton.

“That should be a real thrill,” Helen said, “going out with a freshman.”

“A gorgeous freshman,” Celia amended.

“Robbing the cradle.”

“Floss your butt.” She lay down again on the sofa and crossed her ankles. “Besides, he’s twenty-one, same as us.”

“Sure.”

“He is.”

“What’d he do, flunk three times?”

“He worked after high school. Modeled, did commercials, that sort of stuff.”

“What about his girlfriend?” Alison asked. “I thought you said he was going with some gal.”

“Yeah, he was. Guess he saw the error of his ways.”

“Maybe he likes to date cripples,” Helen suggested.

“Wants to use her for a base,” Alison said.

“Wants to slide in,” Helen added.

“You two are a riot.”

“We’re just jealous,” Helen told her. “We just wish we could go to the Lobster Shanty with a freshman.”

“I’ll call him back,” Celia said. “Maybe he can set up one of you guys with Roland.”

“I’m not selfish, Alison can have him.”

Celia turned her head on the cushion and smiled at Alison. “We’ll make it a double date, just like junior high.”

“Pardon me while I heave.”

“I realize Roland probably isn’t as handsome and worldly as Evan, but hey, it’s Saturday night, you don’t want to sit around alone on Saturday night, do you?”

“Besides,” Helen added, “he’s obviously got a good case of the hots for you.”

“A case of the hards,” Celia said.

“Way he was eyeing you yesterday…”

“Stripping you with his eyes…”

The talk made Alison feel squirmy. “I’d really like to double with you, Celia, but I happen to know that Roland has other plans. He’s got this ménage à trois scheduled for tonight.”

Helen snorted.

“Chortle, chortle,” Celia said.

Alison eyed Helen. “She thinks I’m joking. Don’t you find it a trifle peculiar that Jason, who has never before asked Celia out—in spite of her beauty and wit—should invite her to dinner the very day after her chance encounter at the shopping mall with his roommate, Roland?”

Helen stroked her heavy lower lip, and nodded. “’Tis passing strange.”

Celia smirked. “Tell you what, Roland shows up for dinner, I’ll give him my house key and tell him I got two horny roommates just dying for a piece of him.” She winked at Helen. “And I’ll advise him to bring chips.”

“So what do you think?” Celia asked.

Alison, on the recliner, set her yellow highlighting pen into the gutter of the Chaucer text she had been studying for the past two hours, and looked up. “Not bad.”

The bandage was gone from Celia’s brow. Tied around her head was a blue silk scarf that concealed the abrasion. The scarf was knotted over her left ear, and its ends hung almost to her shoulder. She wore big, hoop earrings.

“You look like Long John Silver,” Alison said.

“Cute, huh?”

“Matter of fact, you look great.”

“You’d never know I was damaged goods, would you?”

“Just by your reputation,” Helen said, coming in from the kitchen with a stein of beer and a can of peanuts. She held the can toward Celia.

“No thanks, I’m saving all my room for dinner.”

“Where’s your sling?” Helen asked.

“I’m not going to the Lobster Shanty with a goddamn sling on my arm.” She lifted the arm stiffly away from her side. “I’ve got a bandage on the elbow. And both knees.”

“I’m surprised you have an outfit that’ll cover them,” Helen said.

“It’s the best I could do.”

The blue gown had sleeves to her forearms and its skirt reached well below her knees, covering her bandages but not entirely hiding them. They showed, Alison noticed, because of the way the glossy fabric clung to every inch of her. She appeared to wear three bandages beneath the gown, and nothing else.

Celia looked down at herself. “I would’ve preferred something that showed a little in front,” she said, fingering the neck band at her throat.

“Cellophane might show more,” Helen said, and dropped onto the sofa. “Peanut?” She tossed one to Alison. Alison snatched it out of the air and popped it into her mouth.

“This is a problem,” Celia said, “but I don’t know what I can do about it.” She turned sideways and took a step. Her right leg, bare to the hip, came out of a slit in the gown. The knee was wrapped with a brown elastic band. “I tried taking off the bandage, but the knee really sucks without it.”

“You could try a body stocking,” Alison suggested.

“Har!” Helen blared.

“The thing is,” Alison said, “he knows you were hurt. There’s no big deal if he happens to see your bandages.”

“He’ll see them all anyway,” Helen said, “once you throw your dress on the floor.”

“She won’t throw her dress on the floor,” Alison said. “Roland’ll hang it up for her.”

“Comedians up the wazoo. What time is it?”

Helen checked her wristwatch. “Six-twenty.”

“Good. He’s picking me up at ten till seven. I think I’ll have a little—”

“I’d want to get drunk too,” Helen said, “if I was going out in public wearing that.”

“You went out in public wearing this,” Celia said, “the public should get drunk.” She grinned at Alison. “Get you something?”

“Thanks. Whatever you’re having.”

Celia went into the kitchen.

“God, she looks fabulous,” Helen whispered. “I looked ten percent as good as her…” She shook her head and sighed. “Life’s tough, then you die.”

“Let’s send out for a pizza after she’s gone.”

Helen raised her thick eyebrows. “Well, maybe life ain’t so tough.”

A few minutes later, Celia returned carrying a tray with her left hand. Two tumblers were balanced on the tray. “Double vodka gimlets,” she announced as Alison took one of the glasses.

“You’re going to be polluted before he even gets here,” Helen said.

“Just a little something for what ails me. Besides, he’s driving.” She set the tray carefully on the table, then lowered herself onto the sofa and lifted her glass.

Alison took a sip. The drink was very strong. She frowned at Celia. “Are you sure about tonight?” she asked.

Staring into her glass, Celia shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not going to call off my life just because some bastard wracked me up.”

“Maybe you need some time.”

“Sit around and think about it?”

“I think it hit you pretty hard.”

“You’re telling me?”

“Emotionally, I mean.”

“Alison’s right,” Helen said. “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. You almost got killed and that guy died. It’s pretty heavy stuff.”

“I’m handling it, okay? What’re you trying to do, ruin my appetite?” She took another drink. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll be a lot finer after a couple of drinks and a lobster dinner with a nice guy who likes me and happens to be a hunk even if he is a freshman. I appreciate your concern, but knock it off, okay? I’m fine.”

“It’s a good drink,” Alison said. “Pretty soon, we’ll both be fine.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be with a charming gorgeous man and you’ll be with Helen. Eat your heart out.”

“Hey,” Alison said, “you’re depressing me.”

A peanut bounced off her forehead and plopped into her drink. It floated on her vodka. She picked it out. Grinning, she flicked it into her mouth. The salt was gone. She fished an ice cube out of her glass and studied it.

“Hey, no,” Helen pleaded. “Come on, you could hurt somebody with that.”

“You’re right. What could I have been thinking?” She tossed it at Helen.

Squealing, Helen hunched her shoulders and twisted in her chair. She flinched when the ice dropped onto her lap. Her hand jerked. A foamy tongue of beer slurped over the edge of her stein and flopped onto her breast. “Yeee-ah!”

“Woops,” Alison said.

“Golly,” Celia said. “Maybe I’ll phone up Jason right now and call it off. I can see that it’ll be a lot more fun around here tonight.”

Helen clamped the peanut can between her knees. Scowling down, she plucked the wet fabric away from her skin. She was wearing the same faded, stained, shapeless dress that she had worn only yesterday when they went to the mall. Or a different one, Alison thought, that looked the same. She had several. They were hard to tell apart. She sniffed a fistful of the wet cloth. “A definite improvement,” she said.

“They’re gone,” Alison called from her recliner.

Helen’s bedroom door eased open and she looked around as if to make sure the coast was clear before venturing out. Satisfied, she approached Alison. “So, how was he?”

“He looks like an after-shave commercial.”

“Huh.” Helen ran the back of a hand across her nose. “He’s probably a jerk. Every guy she goes out with is a jerk, you ever noticed that?”

“I don’t know,” Alison said.

“They are. Someday, she’s going to be sorry.”

“I hope not.”

“You go out with enough jerky guys, sooner or later…”

“What kind of pizza we going to get? Salami, sausage?”

“I got some menus in my desk.”

“Get ’em.”