Part 1 (1/2)
Step to the Graveyard Easy.
Bill p.r.o.nzini.
For Marcia.
And the Spirit say, Go down, Death easy.
I want you to go down, Death easy.
I want you to go down, Death easy.
And bring my servant home.
Step to the graveyard easy.
I want you to step to the graveyard easy.
I want you to step to the graveyard easy.
And bring my servant home.
-”GO DOWN, DEATH”
1.
Cape was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the little redhead from Logan's Cafe when Anna came home and caught him.
He didn't see or hear her walk into the bedroom. The redhead was on top, making pleasure noises, leaning forward with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his face. Neither of them knew Anna was there until she yelled, ”You son of a b.i.t.c.h!” in a shrill tremolo.
The redhead wrenched around and off him so violently she d.a.m.n near ruptured him. Anna was standing stick straight in the doorway. White face, white fisted hands, white nurse's outfit and cap. Like a ghost except for her eyes. They burned hot, smoky at the edges, like cigarette holes in a piece of paper before it bursts into flame.
None of them said anything. Anna stared at him; the redhead, Lonnie, stared at Anna; and he didn't look straight at either one. Lonnie was scrambling into her clothes, panting in a different cadence now. He heard her start to babble.
”Oh G.o.d, Mrs. Cape, I'm sorry... he said you wouldn't be home until late... I didn't mean to... I don't know why... oh G.o.d, I'm sorry...”
”Get out of here,” Anna said. She didn't take her eyes off Cape.
”So sorry, really, I...”
”Get out of my house.”
Lonnie ran out, holding her blouse closed with one hand, her bra trailing from the other. The front door slammed.
Anna said, ”In our bed. Right here in our bed.”
Cape swung painfully off the bed, stood up. He didn't say anything.
”You're such a s.h.i.+t.”
”I guess I am.”
”Put something on,” she said, disgust in her voice. ”She s.h.i.+nes all over you like grease.”
He bent, wincing, to pick up his pants. He put them on, put on his s.h.i.+rt. The doorway was empty by then. When he went out into the living room, Anna was at the sideboard pouring Scotch. The bottle's neck chattered against the rim of the tumbler. She'd pulled off her cap; her blond hair was frizzed up on top and sides like a fright wig. He moved past her to the front window, stood looking out.
Behind him she said, ”Well?”
He didn't answer.
”No excuses? No apology?”
A kid went by on a bicycle, pumping hard, his long hair streaming out behind him.
”All right, then. Tell me this. Is she the first?”
Another kid, this one fat, working the pedals even harder and sweating in the muggy June heat. The type who would always be lagging behind, trying to catch up to the front-runners and never quite making it. The type Cape himself had always been.
”Answer me, Matthew.”
No. Not really like that kid, not any longer. He'd quit pumping hard, trying to catch up; for some time now he'd just been standing still.
”d.a.m.n you, say something!”
”Would you believe me if I said Yes, she was the first?”
”No.”
”Well, she was.”
”Liar.”
”Have it your way then.”
”Why other women? Wasn't I enough for you?”
Cape turned to face her. Hurt and anger made her eyes as round and s.h.i.+ny as grapes. ”You're woman enough for any man,” he said.
”Then why? Why f.u.c.k somebody else in our bed?”
”I did it, that's all.”
”You did it, but that's not all. Not by a long shot.”
”The only answer I can give you is that I'm not the same.”