Part 5 (2/2)

I did not open my eyes.

”Vangie, it'll never happen again.”

I heard him move into the room then, and I figured he was going to try to kiss me or some s.h.i.+t, but then I heard him move away and go back down the stairs. When I did open my eyes, I saw why he'd come back into the room: he'd made me another bag of ice, wrapped it in a towel, and left it on the edge of the bed.

11.

I wanted to talk to June, but when I called out to the house, the telephone rang and rang. I figured she was with Luke, so I didn't try to go out there. While part of me wanted to talk to her about Del and about what was going on, I also didn't want her to know. I wouldn't know how to launch into all the things I had on my mind-I couldn't even picture myself really saying the words. So I stayed away.

That week Del and I did not talk about what had happened, but he was on his best behavior. He bought me new wiper blades for my truck and changed the oil, he put a hook on the screen door that I'd been wanting ever since we moved in, and he brushed out my hair every night when I came home from Dreisbach's stinking from grease and sweat. He was so well behaved that it was hard to even act natural with him, and I felt self-conscious and quiet. After a while, things mostly went back to the way they were before, but there was still a little place in me that was walled off from Del. I knew it would be that way for a while. Even though I could not stand having hurt feelings or being so self-conscious, I couldn't change everything I felt.

I worked the next Friday night, and a little after eleven, I saw Del waiting for me there in the hallway of Dreisbach's, next to the bread rack.

”I came to see if you'd go out with me,” he said, and just the way he said the words, I knew he'd already had a drink or two.

”I don't think so. I'm supposed to work until midnight.”

”It's not what you think,” he said. ”I won't drink anymore if you don't want me to.”

I stood looking at him a long time. He never showed up at my work like that, and I guess it touched me. Something must have showed in my face, because he took my hands and pulled them up to his chest. When he kissed me, it was exactly the kind of kiss I liked best: a little hard, a little biting, but also soft.

”Go see if you can get off early,” he said.

For whatever reason, Earl decided to be nice to me, or maybe he took one look at Del-who came to stand just outside the kitchen doorway-and thought it had to be something pressing if he was showing up for me like that.

”You serve this burger, you can go,” he said.

When I left, the last customer was eating in near darkness, because Earl had turned out nearly all the lights in the dining room. Out in the parking lot, Del made me leave my truck there and ride with him.

”Where to?” I said.

”The Ruby. Want to?”

”I'm ready.”

As soon as we got in his car, Del slipped his hand between my legs and I let him. We hadn't had s.e.x all week, and I knew Del was wondering if later I'd let him slip in that way, too. Part of me was still thinking about the bruises, and another part of me couldn't wait to push it all away from me. I could feel myself getting the s.h.i.+very feeling with just his hand outside my pantyhose and underwear.

We still weren't legal, but the Ruby would serve anyone who could reach the bar. There were a good number of people in the place when we got there, but it was not as exciting as it seemed the times I'd been there before to buy packages to take out. No one was playing the jukebox, no one was playing mini-bowling or darts. People were just drinking and talking. Del and I sat down at one of the tables, and even though no one was looking at us, I felt self-conscious about being there in my waitress uniform. At least it was a black one, and not all white like I sometimes wore.

”I wish you would have told me at home we were coming here,” I said. ”I would have brought clothes.”

”Would you have come if I asked?”

”I don't know. Maybe.”

”Maybe,” Del said. ”You hardly talked to me all week.”

”Do you blame me?”

He squirreled around in his pocket until he came up with four quarters.

”Go pick some songs.” He waited a second before he handed them over to me. ”I don't blame you,” he said.

”You want to help me pick?”

”Naw, you go ahead.” He moved his head in the direction of the bar. ”What should I get you?”

”A screwdriver.”

It took me a while to find ten songs I liked on that juke-box. By the time I got back to the table and the drink Del had waiting for me, one of his cronies from Traut's was parked at one of our extra chairs. I sat down, and though Del slipped his hand over my nyloned knee as soon as I pulled in my chair, he did not stop his talking or introduce me to the guy sitting with us.

The guy was talking to Del about hunting. Buck season was about to open, and all of Traut's had the day off from work for the opener. Like most places in Mahanaqua, including the schools, Traut's closed down for the first day of buck season because it wouldn't have paid to run the factory with so many guys taking vacation or calling in sick. The guy Del was talking to had his stand all built, his area staked out, and he could not believe Del's plans to kill a deer were not as elaborate as his own.

”I'll probably just go on out with my dad and brother,” Del said.

What the guy couldn't know, what Del didn't say, was that Del didn't hunt anymore. Not at all. He'd started hunting when he was ten, he got his first buck when he was twelve, and he puked when he had to skin that dead buck. After, his father beat him for getting sick over it. I was the only one who knew that story-along with his brother Frank and his old man, who liked to use his fists so much to decorate his boys' faces.

But I did not say anything as I sat and listened. After a long time, the guy finally seemed to understand that while Del might go strolling out in the woods with a gun over his shoulder, he had no real plans on how to kill a deer, or how to get the buck with the biggest rack, or anything like that.

”So you don't want to try to get yourself a ten-point buck?” the guy said.

”I got one already,” Del said. ”She's my ten-point buck.”

For the first time in the conversation the guy had to look over at me. Del took his hand from my thigh and slipped it around my back, touching my shoulder blades through my uniform. The guy didn't stay too long after that.

After he walked away, I said to Del, ”He doesn't know what to make of you.”

”What?”

”You just told him you like p.u.s.s.y better than hunting.”

Del did not say anything, but he narrowed his eyes, studying me.

”What if I do?” he said after a while.

”I guess it would be a first in this town.”

When we got home, the night was all about me. I knew it was still part of the be-nice-to-Vangie campaign, but I didn't care. Del was careful in how he touched me-cupping my b.r.e.a.s.t.s only and not kneading them, kissing them but not sucking. He did not try to get inside me, just used his fingers and his tongue until he made me come. He was going to do it a second time, but I stopped his hand.

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