The Woman. Part 15

"I'll just take some fries and mayo, thanks."

"One trip to Europe and you're eatin' like a frog?"

"Ribbet."

He called in the order.

"Your little charges giving you heartaches again? You're frowning, my dear. Bad form in a bar."

She hadn't been aware of it.

"They're not so bad."

"Boys still checking out that cute b.u.t.t of yours?"

"I took a shot at dressing more or less like a nun. But nothing seems to work."

"You should be glad it doesn't. Keeps them interested."

"Right. But interested in what?"

"They have my complete and utter sympathy. I guarantee I wouldn't be able to tell a triangle from a square if I was a kid and you were bending over your daily lesson plan."

"Sweet, Andrew. You think if I told them which way I swing it would dampen things down a bit?"

"Honey, that'd only make it worse. What's with the paper?"

She hadn't been aware of fingering the note in front of her either.

"A phone number. Parents of one of my students. I'm pretty positive this girl is pregnant."

"Ouch. So you're telling the parents?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"That's a toughy, Genevieve. Could make things worse for her."

"You think so?"

"I'd say that nine times out of ten if they don't know already and some outsider does does know she's gonna have h.e.l.l to pay at the family hearth and home." know she's gonna have h.e.l.l to pay at the family hearth and home."

"But it's going to be very obvious very soon."

He shrugged. "Hey, it's your call. My dad always told me not to try and change a woman's mind once she's set on something. Think I'll heed the old man on this one."

Down the bar Ginger held up her empty winegla.s.s and he moved away.

She sipped her scotch and considered.

She'd left her cell phone in her desk at school again. Maybe that was a sign.

And maybe not.

Andrew was right, she knew, to think this might be a mistake. It amounted to interfering. But she wished back then and still did that somebody had interfered with Dorothy, a gifted pianist and her first lover - their brief high school affair an experiment for both of them. Dorothy had gone off to college with a double major in music and psychology only to get herself pregnant by her music teacher, who then got scared of f.u.c.king a student and dumped her.

Dorothy was just then showing according to what she heard, when they found her naked, face-up on the floor of her dormitory bathroom.

Her wrists slashed the right right way. way.

She heard the ding ding of the call bell behind her and knew that would be her french fries but by then she was already on the move toward the pay phone by the rest rooms in back, paper in hand. of the call bell behind her and knew that would be her french fries but by then she was already on the move toward the pay phone by the rest rooms in back, paper in hand.

"Ah, h.e.l.l," her father said. "Never fails at dinnertime. Peg, you want to go see who that is?"

She got up from her chair and walked down the hall to the phone and waited for the answering machine to kick in.

h.e.l.lo, was what she heard. was what she heard. This is Genevieve Raton and this message is for Mr. or Mrs. Cleek. Peggy is a student in my geometry cl... This is Genevieve Raton and this message is for Mr. or Mrs. Cleek. Peggy is a student in my geometry cl...

She cut off the message. Deleted it. Erased the number from caller ID.

Good G.o.d.

She walked back to the kitchen and sat down in front of her salad.

"Wrong number," she said.

Genevieve hung up the phone and wondered if she should try again. She'd heard the message on the machine - it was the father's voice. Somebody had heard hers too. Somebody had hung up on her.

She was still wondering when she returned to the bar and her french fries.

Andrew set a fresh Dewars rocks in front of her.

"You're up to your buy-back," he said.

"Thanks."

He leaned toward her and c.o.c.ked his head.

"Well?"

"No answer."

He just looked at her for a moment, expressionless.

"I should let it lay, right?"

He shrugged.

"I should."

Below the phone number was the Cleek address, written in her neat loopy script. No, No, she thought. she thought. Not a good idea. Not a good idea.

She crumpled up the sc.r.a.p of paper in her fist. Andrew smiled. She pushed it away toward him across the bar.

Then she thought about Dorothy again. And something told her she should close no doors on this. Not yet.

So that when his back was turned to her she retrieved the ball of paper and slipped it into her purse.

PART THREE.

TWENTY-ONE.

Cleek could not have said later what got him out of bed that night and saw him padding down the stairs in his boxers and t-shirt and slippers. It could have been any number of things which woke him. A dog barking. A tree branch sc.r.a.ping the window in a gust of summer breeze. It could have been anything that kept him awake. Concern that she'd escaped somehow or hurt herself trying. The urge to see her once again in that Mennonite dress. To touch her wooly hair. Anything.

Belle knew what woke her. Cleek did. A creak on the stairs and an empty s.p.a.ce beside her on the bed. She listened. Heard the front door open and close again. Felt her eyes pool with angry tears. The silence of the house deafening until filled with her own wracking sobs against the feather pillow.

Brian had never slept at all. So that when he heard his father's footsteps in the hall and then on the stairs and heard the sounds of his mother's m.u.f.fled crying it took no leap of logic to determine that his father had not gone downstairs for a drink of water or a late-night snack but for other reasons entirely and when he heard him open and close the door his intuitions were confirmed. Lighter on his feet than his father - and quieter - he followed.

The two girls slept. Peg's sleep mercifully dreamless at the moment though that would change by morning as now it always did. Darlin's sleep filled with children. Children who liked her. Children who wanted to be kissed.

TWENTY-TWO.

Now that he's here he knows exactly why why he's here. It's no mystery to him at all and shouldn't have been from the start. He flips on the light and sees that she's wide awake and staring at him in that watchful cautious way of hers. He sees her in that dress. He loves that dress. Belle did a fine job there. he's here. It's no mystery to him at all and shouldn't have been from the start. He flips on the light and sees that she's wide awake and staring at him in that watchful cautious way of hers. He sees her in that dress. He loves that dress. Belle did a fine job there. d.a.m.n d.a.m.n fine job. Mennonite, Mormon - what's the difference? They're all good to their menfolk right? fine job. Mennonite, Mormon - what's the difference? They're all good to their menfolk right?

Respectful.

Not like some.

Some women, all they think about is fi-nances. fi-nances. Don't know the bold strokes. Worry that financial stuff like a dog worries a bone. Can't see the forest for the trees. Don't know the wheel from the deal. Don't know the bold strokes. Worry that financial stuff like a dog worries a bone. Can't see the forest for the trees. Don't know the wheel from the deal.

He doesn't remember doing it - he's been stuck in his own mind here for a second or two he guesses - but he's practically on top of her now. Close enough to reach out and touch. She doesn't look all too worried about that. Could be she'd like to be touched. Seemed to like it this afternoon. That pat on the head.

But he's thinking that maybe it's not his hand she wants this time.

He's thinking it's c.o.c.k. c.o.c.k-co-c.o.c.k-co-c.o.c.k-co-c.o.c.k. c.o.c.kadoodledoo. Anyc.o.c.k'lldo. c.o.c.k-co-c.o.c.k-co-c.o.c.k-co-c.o.c.k. c.o.c.kadoodledoo. Anyc.o.c.k'lldo.

s.l.u.t, he thinks.

You bit my f.u.c.king finger off.

Brian sees it all through his peephole. His father, the lawyer, upstanding citizen, Christopher f.u.c.king Cleek, PTA, Rotary and Kiwanis, with his hand on the woman's collarbone, stroking stroking her collarbone and then moving down to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the woman and his father standing eye to eye - though while her eyes are on his face his father is looking elsewhere, over toward the wall. Weird. It strikes him that his father's chickens.h.i.t. That he can't look her in the eyes. He hadn't expected that. her collarbone and then moving down to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the woman and his father standing eye to eye - though while her eyes are on his face his father is looking elsewhere, over toward the wall. Weird. It strikes him that his father's chickens.h.i.t. That he can't look her in the eyes. He hadn't expected that.

Then he's unb.u.t.toning the side of her dress.

He's aware that his mouth has gone dry and is hanging open - he's mouth-breathing again, which he hasn't done since the second grade - and that he's clutching the wad of dirty gum so hard it's gone soft again.

His father pulls the dress up and drapes it over the woman's shoulder.

He can see everything now. Her bush. No - her c.u.n.t. c.u.n.t. Everything. Everything.

His father drops trou.

And something else hasn't gone soft on either of them.

It is the way of the world and she has expected this. There is a time to dominate and attack and a time to submit and this is just another submission in a series she has lately suffered at his hands. He now spits on one of those hands and strokes her c.u.n.t and spits again and strokes his c.o.c.k, takes her a.s.s in the other hand - she smiles to herself, the wounded hand the wounded hand and lifts her, enters her and begins to work. And it is work because she is dry inside, has been dry since the death of First Stolen who filled her as this one never could, whose teeth marks remain on her shoulder to this day. and lifts her, enters her and begins to work. And it is work because she is dry inside, has been dry since the death of First Stolen who filled her as this one never could, whose teeth marks remain on her shoulder to this day.

She thinks of First Stolen and his teeth and his c.o.c.k and hands and thus makes it easier for the man, makes her c.u.n.t slicker. She does this as she focuses on the hole in the cellar door. A small hole but one she hasn't missed. Behind the small hole there is an eye which watches in the dark. In that eye she has recognized the same cruelty as in the man.

Only younger. And sweeter to the taste.

She nods to the eye and smiles.

Jesus! Brian flinches away from the peephole as though she'd poked him in the eye. She sees him! She knows he's there! How the h.e.l.l can she know that? He hasn't made a sound.

And this is the second time she's caught him.

His c.o.c.k retreats into his hand.

But then he thinks. Who cares what she knows? She can't tell anybody. No speaka da English No speaka da English. His eye returns to the peephole again. f.u.c.k what she knows or doesn't know.