Flesh

CHAPTER EIGHT

“So maybe I was wrong,” Helen said.

“Huh?” Alison asked.

“You haven’t given King Lear a glance in the past half hour, just been staring at the phone.”

“I thought he might call,” she said.

“So did I. Maybe we misjudged him. I figured he’d make a grand play for you, but…”

“I think his grand play is to ignore me.”

Celia, lying on the sofa, pulled the stereo headphones off her ears and said, “Am I missing something?”

“Alison’s getting anxious.”

“So call the guy,” she advised.

“I can’t do that.”

“She can’t do that,” Helen repeated. “She’s laid down the terms. The next move is up to Evan.”

Groaning, Celia eased her feet off the sofa and sat up.

“You don’t want to just sit around all day hoping he’ll call,” she told Alison. “You need to do something to take your mind off him. I need to get out, myself.”

“Try going to your two o’clock,” Helen said.

“That seminar’s the shits. Besides, it’s been three weeks since my last cut. I need a break. Especially after yesterday.”

“We told you you’d be sorry,” Helen said, “signing up for a Friday afternoon class.”

“Take a hike.” She looked at Alison. “How about we go over to the mall?”

Alison liked the idea. “Are you up to something like that?”

“A walk’ll do me good, get the kinks out.”

“How about it, Helen?” Alison asked. “Want to come along?”

“Nah.”

“Come on,” Alison urged her. “You’re turning into a hermit.”

“I had three damn classes this morning. How does that make me a hermit?” She got up and went to the window. “Anyway, it’s going to rain.”

“What’s a little rain,” Alison said.

“Besides, I’d have to change back into something.”

“Aw, go as you are,” Celia told her.

Helen turned around and looked down at herself as if considering Celia’s suggestion. She was wearing a housedress that looked like an old tablecloth, complete with food stains. She fastened a snap that had come loose between her heavy breasts. “I guess, if I keep my raincoat on…”

“Get serious,” Celia said.

“I’ll just stay here.”

“No, come on,” Alison said. “You don’t want to spend all afternoon cooped up in the house. If you wear your raincoat, nobody’ll know what you’ve got on. The dress isn’t so bad, anyway.”

Helen looked at Celia.

“I don’t care. Wear whatever you want. Let’s just get going.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Alison said.

As she headed for the hallway, she heard Celia say, “For godsake, at least put on some underpants. You fall on your ass, you’ll be flashing beaver.”

Helen’s response, if any, was inaudible.

Smiling, Alison began to climb the stairs to her attic room. The staircase had barely enough light to see the steps, so she ran her hand along the banister as she hurried to the top. Her room was not much brighter than the staircase. Not bothering with a lamp, she stepped over to the single window and looked out.

Pretty gloomy out there, all right. A storm was certainly on the way, but she guessed that it might hold off for a while.

It’ll probably start up, she thought, just in time to catch me walking to Gabby’s.

She could get a ride from Evan. He’d be glad to…

She remembered. The hollow ache came back.

What have I done?

It’s okay, she told herself. It’s okay. If he’s through with me over something like this, fine.

She crossed the small room to her dresser and took out her blue jumpsuit. The one-piece, velour outfit would feel soft and cozy, perfect for this kind of weather. Getting into it would be the problem. She had turned the heater off before leaving for her morning classes, and the room was chilly.

As fast as she could, she jerked her flannel shirt over her head, flipped off her slippers, tugged her jeans down her legs, kicked the jeans away, stepped into the jumpsuit and pulled it up. Shivering, she thrust her arms into its sleeves. She raised the zipper to her neck, and sighed with relief as the chill was shut out.

Quickly, she put on a pair of wool socks and stepped into her sneakers. Then, she snatched her windbreaker from the closet, grabbed the strap of her shoulder bag, and hurried downstairs.

Helen, waiting in her sou’wester and boots, looked ready for a typhoon.

“Ahoy,” Alison said.

“We’re waiting for you, Celia!” Helen called from somewhere inside her rain gear.

“Patience,” Celia called from her room. “I’m a crip, remember?” A few moments passed, and she came out clutching a snap-brim cap in her teeth while she adjusted her sling. She had changed into a bulky, cable-knit pullover that she’d bought on a trip to Ireland. Her pants were loose-fitting corduroys with deep pockets, cuffs tucked into snakeskin boots.

“You look smashing,” Alison told her.

“Smashed up is more like it,” she said, taking the cap from her teeth and flipping it onto her head at a rakish angle.

“Where’s your raincoat?” Helen asked.

“My raincoat is a poncho. I’m not gonna fool with it.”

“You’ll get soaked.”

“If it rains, which I doubt, you’ll stay dry enough for the three of us.”

A cool wind hit Alison when she opened the door. She fastened the snaps of her jacket. Halfway down the stairs, she looked back. Celia was using her good hand to keep the cap on her head. “Are you going to be warm enough?”

“You kidding? This is an Aran sweater.”

“Whatever you say.”

Helen, higher on the stairs, turned up the broad brim of her rain hat. Her face appeared, and she smiled as if pleasantly surprised to find herself in the company of others.

Three steps from the bottom, Alison leaped. Her bent knees absorbed the impact.

“Gimme a break,” Celia called.

Grinning, Alison walked backward. “This is neat weather,” she said. “Invig—”

“L’gout, now.”

Something prodded her spine.

Celia started to laugh.

Whirling around, Alison found a knotty cane leveled at her belly. At the cane’s other end stood Dr. Teal, a grocery bag in his free hand. He swung the cane back, resting it on his shoulder. As he looked at the three, his eyebrows lifted, crinkling his brow. “Setting out, I see. A fine day for an excursion.”

“A blustery day,” Alison told him. He was a man who appreciated allusions.

“Keep a sharp eye out for Eeyore’s tail,” he said.

“Want a hand with the groceries?” Alison asked.

“Thanks for the offer, but I must not keep you from your expedition. Proceed!” He stepped off the cobblestones into the wind-bent grass, and made a sweeping gesture with his cane.

Alison stepped past him and turned around. Celia tipped her cap to the professor.

“You, my dear, have looked better.”

“I got a little banged up.”

“I’m very sorry to hear it.”

“You oughta see the other guy.”

Shaking his head, the old professor patted her gently on the shoulder as she stepped by.

“Say-hay,” Helen greeted him.

“Say-hay.” He leaned close to her and said something Alison couldn’t hear. Then he walked around the stairway, stopped at his side door, and propped his cane against the wall.

Alison walked a little farther, then waited for the others to catch up. “What’d he say?” she asked Helen.

“I don’t know, some nonsense. That guy’s battier every time I see him.”

“But what did he say?” Alison persisted.

“‘Let the albatross live.’ Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“I think,” said Alison, “he was saying he liked your outfit.”

As she reached the sidewalk, she saw a man on the next block. He was leaning into the wind, clutching his tan jacket shut. He had light brown hair like Evan. Alison felt her heart quicken. She squinted, trying to see him better.

They’ll just have to go on without me, she thought. They’ll understand.

He’s come back to me. In spite of my ultimatum.

She’d almost given up hoping, but Evan must’ve decided to try the new arrangement.

She was glad she was wearing the jumpsuit. Of all her outfits, it was Evan’s favorite. The zipper down the front drove him wild.

As she walked toward him, she popped open the snaps of her windbreaker and lowered the jumpsuit zipper a few inches.

She could take him to the house. It would be warm and cozy, and they would have the place all to themselves until Celia and Helen got back.

Not such a great idea, she thought. It’d be asking for trouble.

On the other hand, it would be a good test. If Evan, could resist temptation under those circumstances…

The man was closer, now.

He didn’t look so much like Evan, anymore.

He turned away at the corner, and his profile was all wrong—his nose too long, his chin too weak.

“That guy looked a little like Evan,” Celia said.

Alison shrugged. She felt cheated and empty. “Evan can take a flying leap,” she muttered.

The warmth of the enclosed shopping mall felt good. Alison’s windbreaker was light enough so that she wasn’t bothered by keeping it on, but she pitied Helen. The poor gal had to feel stifled under the heavy raincoat.

Don’t feel too sorry for her, Alison thought. She could’ve put on decent clothes if she hadn’t been so lazy.

The three wandered along the concourse, close to the left side. While Celia and Helen looked into shops, Alison scanned the other shoppers. Many of them were students. One of them might be Evan.

At Contempo Casuals, Celia stopped and gazed at the mannequins near the entrance. “I want to check it out,” she said, and they entered.

Helen took off her huge, floppy hat. Her round face looked moist and florid. She opened the top buckle of her coat.

“Better stop there,” Celia warned. “They’ll sound the slob alarm.”

“Eat it,” Helen said. But she left the lower buckles alone.

They followed Celia to the rear of the store, where she began looking at negligees.

“You’re not getting another,” Helen said.

“Oh no?”

“What’ve you got, twenty of them? And at the rate you go through guys, none of them gets a chance to see more than one, anyway.”

“Jealous?”

Helen just shook her head.

Celia took her time studying the selection, lifting various garments on their hangers and inspecting them, pondering, putting them back. She went about the task one-handed, so after a while Alison began to help by returning the rejected garments to the crowded racks. At last, Celia found one she seemed to like. She turned to Alison, holding it up. “What do you think?”

It was a backless nightie, very short, of glossy royal blue. It had spaghetti straps which tied at the back of the neck, and an open, plunging front. The cups were wisps of blue gauze.

“Figures you’d pick a thing like that,” Helen said.

“Looks fine to me.” Alison wondered if there was another one just like it. If Evan saw her in something like that…Forget him.

“I wouldn’t get it,” Helen said.

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

With one side of her lip curled up, Helen flicked the sheer gauze. “You don’t want that. And I’m not talking modesty here. I realize you’re far beyond such things.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“That color. It’ll make your titties look sick. You want to look like you’ve got blue boobs and purple nips?”

Celia raised her eyebrows. She looked at Alison.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Alison admitted.

“See if they’ve got the same thing in black,” Helen suggested.

“Good idea.” She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Though, if you ask me, you’d be better off putting your money in potato chips.”

Alison held the blue nightie until Celia, searching the rack, came up with a black one in the same style. “Great,” Celia said. “Perfect.”

Alison hooked the hanger over the rail, then unhooked it and looked again at the garment. The blue was deep, bright, and shiny. She caressed the fabric. It felt slick, and clung to her hand. She wondered how it would feel on her, how it would look. She had never owned anything like this. She raised her eyes. Celia and Helen were both staring at her. She grinned.

“Blue boobs,” Helen warned.

“I can live with it,” she said.

Celia grinned. “A little something just in case Evan comes through?”

“What happened to your vow of chastity?” Helen asked.

“This has nothing to do with it,” Alison said.

“Oh, no?”

As they left the shop with their purchases, Alison offered to carry Celia’s bag.

“Yeah,” Helen said. “Take it off her hands. Something like that, it must weigh a ton.”

“Maybe you should’ve bought one,” Celia told her.

“Ready to go?” Helen asked, ignoring the remark.

“We just got here.”

She curled her upper lip. There were sparkles of sweat above it. She had to be suffering, Alison thought, trapped inside that heavy raincoat.

“Maybe we should go,” Alison said.

“I just want to be fair to you guys,” Celia explained. “Poor Helen needs to ogle the puppies and hit the doughnut shop, and you want to check out the bookstore, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alison told her. “I think one of us is melting.”

“I’m all right,” Helen said, though clearly she wasn’t.

Celia grinned. “That perked you up—doughnuts, maple bars, bear claws, chocolate eclairs…”

“I could sure use a soda,” she admitted.

With Helen in the lead, they headed across the concourse toward the wing of the mall where the food stands were located.

“Salutations,” someone said from behind them.

They turned around.

It was the weird kid. Though Alison didn’t know his name and had never spoken with him, she had noticed him around the campus. He was impossible not to notice, the strange clothes he wore and the way he parted his hair in the middle. Right now, he was wearing a garish sport jacket and a T-shirt with a gash spilling blood and entrails printed on its front. He was clutching a bag from Spartan Sporting Goods.

“You’re Celia Jamerson, right?” he asked. “I saw you in The Glass Menagerie. You were great.”

“Thanks,” Celia said.

“You probably don’t remember me.”

“You’re Jason’s friend, aren’t you?”

He grinned, his thin lips stretching away from big, crooked teeth. “I’m his roommate, Roland. Anyway, I was just wondering if you’re okay. What happened, were you in an accident?”

“I had a little mishap on my bike.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry.” His gaze traveled sideways to Alison and slid down her body, then returned to Celia. “I hope it wasn’t serious,” he said.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be all right. How’s Jason?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He’ll be trying out for the spring play. I know he’s hoping you’ll be in it.”

“I don’t know. Auditions are next week. I’m pretty banged up.”

“That’s awful.” He looked again at Alison. She felt an urge to pull her jacket shut. “Anyway, I’d better get going. Hope you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” Celia said. “See you around.”

He turned and walked away.

Alison realized she had been holding her breath as if afraid of inhaling a disease.

“What a dream boat,” Helen said.

“A nightmare boat,” Alison muttered. “I feel like I need a bath.”

“He sure looked us over.”

Alison hadn’t seen him looking Helen over, but she kept her mouth shut.

Celia shrugged. “It was nice of him to be concerned about me.”

“Play your cards right,” Helen told her, “maybe he’ll ask you out. How’d you like to model your new nightie for him?”

“Gimme a break.”

With Helen in the lead, they walked toward the food area. Alison still felt a little squirmy. Though there wasn’t much similarity between them, Roland somehow reminded her of Prince Charming, the crazed, filthy man she’d seen yesterday afternoon at Gabby’s.

They stopped at one of the refreshment stands. Helen ordered a drink and a hot dog. Alison and Celia each ordered sodas. They found a vacant table in the middle of the concourse and sat down.

Poking her straw through the plastic lid of her drink, Alison could almost see Roland leering at her. “What a creep,” she muttered.

“He gives new meaning,” said Helen, “to the expression ‘nasty slimy yuck.’”

Celia grinned. “Yeah, but his roomy’s not half bad.”

“He the guy who played the gentleman caller?” Alison asked.

“That’s the one.”

“If he’s so wonderful,” Helen asked, squeezing a thick trail of mustard across her hot dog, “how come you haven’t added him to your list?”

“For godsake, he’s a freshman.”

“Shouldn’t let a little thing like that stop you.”

“You kidding? I’d never live it down, it got around I was seeing a frosh. Besides, he’s already going with some gal.”

“So,” Helen said, “it’s not that he’s a freshman. Just that somebody else has dibs on him.”

“Gimme a break. He’d drop her like a hot spud if I gave him the ol’ look.”

Helen took a big bite out of her hot dog. Mustard dribbled down her chin. Wiping the mustard off with the back of a hand, she said to Alison in a muffled voice, “Don’t you just adore modesty in a person?”

“Hell,” Alison said, “she’s probably right.”

“Not that I intend to give Jason the ol’ look,” Celia pointed out. “Like I said, he’s a freshman.”

Helen licked the mustard smear off the back of her hand. “Maybe you could date him incognito. Wear Groucho glasses.”

“He’s got to have a personality defect,” Alison said, “if he pals around with that weirdo.”

Celia grinned. “Can’t judge a person by his roommates. Shit, look at mine.”