Part 6 (1/2)
Then we sat, the three of us, in the parlor. Jack was silent, taking shots of vodka straight from the bottle and staring at us, his green eyes hostile and intense. I rubbed my arms where he had grabbed them.
Kevin broke the silence. ”Josie. Didn't you want to show me something upstairs?”
”I'll meet you up there,” I said.
He nodded and left. Jack and I sat and stared.
”You hurt me,” I said.
Jack took a long pull at the bottle.
”He's waiting,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Kevin and I were in my bed under the covers, naked and fumbling. The things he did were clumsy and well intentioned. I think it was the first time he'd ever been naked with a girl. I didn't ask. Jack was playing Tristan and Isolde at top volume in his room. The floor of my bedroom shook with each crescendo.
I thought of Jack. I thought of his strong hands and his green eyes; I thought of him fuming and rage-filled in his bedroom on the other side of the wall. If he was hurting, I was glad.
When Kevin fell back panting and sweaty, we lay without speaking for a few minutes. It was nice to lie together. Some of my fury dissipated. But the s.p.a.ce that was left was filled with feelings that I liked even less.
”Something's wrong, isn't it?” Kevin said.
”Something is, yes.'
After a small silence, he said, ”I don't think I'd better come up here for a while.”
I s.h.i.+fted so that I could put my ear against his chest. I said nothing for a minute. I could hear his heartbeat hidden under the music like a secret message.
”We've lived here for so long,” I said. ”Just me and him.”
He nodded. A drop of sweat traced its way down my back. We didn't say anything else. Isolde wailed in the next room.
Kevin got up and began to put his clothes on. I watched him from the bed.
”I'll walk you down,” I said when he was done, standing up. I didn't bother to cover myself. I was s.h.i.+vering and sticky and I didn't care.
At the front door, Kevin turned to me. ”There's a bonfire Friday. It's a pep rally sort of thing. Come with me.” His words were rushed, as if he were trying to get them all out before he changed his mind.
”All right,” I said. He kissed me and left.
I went back upstairs and crawled into my clammy bed. I expected Jack, but instead I heard the music cut off, the front door slam, and the truck engine start up outside.
Jack returned hours later and woke me. He brought a bottle of wine and gave me the first sip. I'd been dreaming. I was still half asleep. He never said he was sorry for anything, and I never asked him to.
3.
FRIDAY WAS COLD. Jack and I had been up all night so I slept most of the day. Around three I shook myself awake, left Jack-who was still sleeping-and went downstairs to make some coffee. For a long time I sat on the front porch and watched the clouds move.
At five I went back upstairs. Jack was awake now, but still in bed, smoking a cigarette and throwing darts at the dartboard that hung from his bookcase. His room was hot. When he saw me standing in the doorway, he moved his legs to make room for me at the foot of his bed.
”Open a window,” I said. ”It stinks in here.”
Jack dropped the darts on his pillow and reached for the window. The sheets had been bunched under him and had left dull red lines on his back. ”Raeburn home?” he said, handing me his cigarette.
”Not yet,” I answered, and we smoked in silence for a few minutes. His blond hair was thick with grease and stuck up at weird angles from his head. He looked like a rumpled lion.
”Can I borrow your leather jacket tonight?” I asked eventually.
”Why?”
”Because it's cold.”
”You have a coat.” He threw his blanket onto the floor and stood up, rooting through a pile of clothes on the floor until he found a pair of jeans.
”Mine smells like wine.”
”So wear a lot of perfume.”
”Just let me borrow it, okay?”
”To go to that bonfire thing?”
I nodded.
”No,” he said, pulling on a sweater.
”Why not?”
Jack took a drag from his cigarette. ”Maybe I don't want Kevin McNerny's monkey hands all over it.” He sat down in the old armchair we'd dragged down from the attic and watched me. His eyes were steady and their full force was formidable.
Finally he spoke. ”You know, Raeburn left those quadratic equations that I was supposed to do.”
”So?”
”When's he getting home?”
”I guess six. Like always.”
”Time's it now?”
”Five.”
My brother had a roundabout way of making a point.
”Those equations are weighing on my mind. Maybe if they were done, I'd be able to think about whether or not I wanted to let you take my jacket.” Jack picked up a half-full coffee mug, sniffed at it, and took a drink.
”How many problems are there?”