Part 38 (1/2)
”This ought to make you feel more human,” I said, carrying a load of horse blankets with the girlie magazine on top.
When Shane saw the floozy his eyes sparked with the old flame.
”Nothing in all nature compares to the woman's breast,” he said. ”The combination of beauty and nutrition is unrivaled.”
”Only a pervert would call those things beautiful. They're nothing but hanging pumpkins.”
Shane examined me, then the magazine cover, then me again. ”Do I detect a note of jealousy, little missy?”
”You better dry fast, you're getting delirious.”
The horse blankets were fairly high quality to have been abandoned to mice-mostly plaid Baker blankets and coolers with a couple of Australian rugs. I spread the Australians on the floor.
Shane asked, ”Have you ever considered implants?”
”I gave birth to two children with this pair and they work fine. Now, take off those wet clothes, Lloyd'll kill me if you die on us.”
He stared at my blood-encrusted b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Up to then I'd been too busy for self-consciousness about the hanging t.i.ts thing, but now I crossed my arms. ”Off with the clothes.”
Shane started unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt. ”You just want to see my phallus.”
I covered his shoulders with a blanket and rubbed his hair. ”I've seen your phallus, you should consider an implant.”
Shane started to laugh and went into a gag. His whole body was s.h.i.+vering. He tried to work out of his pants but couldn't manage it. I straightened his legs to help with the process, and together we got him naked. Touching his legs was like handling firewood.
”Is there any chance of you answering a question honestly?” I asked.
”I am always honest.”
I'd turned out the overhead lights and moved Shane back from the open doors, out of the wind and rifle range, but I could still see the front door and the light up in Armand's room. ”When you stopped drinking, did your social life suffer?”
I had Shane's middle wrapped like a mummy, but he still shook. ”You mean did I get laid less?”
”I'm thinking seriously about quitting alcohol, but I'm afraid interesting men won't like me anymore.”
”To be strictly frank, women have always found me irresistible. However, after I stopped drinking, the quality of woman who did so rose several meaningful notches.”
”I wonder if I could find higher-quality men.”
”My child, you could search the world over and never find lower-quality men than the ones you've chosen recently.”
The bedroom light went off. Armand was probably up there at the window, with his rifle, waiting for us to leave the barn. Let him wait-we had nowhere to go, and he was losing blood too fast to stay.
”Armand was nice at first. How was I to know he was a paranoid, s.a.d.i.s.tic psychopath?” I asked.
”If you'd been sober, you would have known.”
As I knelt on the concrete to dry Shane's feet, the adrenaline high suddenly crashed and everything that had happened the last few weeks came down on me at once. Dothan, Auburn, Lloyd, Shane, Yukon Jack-the weight was unbearable.
I started to whimper. ”Shane, life isn't turning out right.”
He touched the top of my head. ”It never does.”
”I try to keep going and act happy, but nothing I do works. I'm helpless.”
”You are only helpless if you refuse to ask for help.”
”Jesus”-I rested my head on his knees-”another b.u.mper snicker to live by.”
I cried while Shane ran his fingers through my hair. Shane's touch brought back a feeling of Dad when I was real little. Had Dad ever brushed hair out of my face while I cried in his lap, or is that one of those memories you want so much you make it real?
”Why did you come back?” I asked.
”You are worth saving.”
”Oh.” I felt the horse blanket on my face. It reminded me of Frostbite and the ranch.
”I don't think I'll listen to Paul Harvey anymore,” I said.
Shane did his chuckle sound where all three chins seem to contract at once. ”The postcards to Papa have to go, too,” he said.
”They do?”
”Let him die, Maurey.”
We were both quiet a long time, until Shane exhaled one of his freight-train snores. He slid down on his back, and I was afraid he would fall out of the chair, so I eased him onto the Australian rug pallet. His face seemed waxy and melting, like a red candle in an oven.
I thought about what he'd said about asking for help. Life must be pretty desperate for me to be listening to Shane Rinesfoos's advice, but, let's face it, my life had been pretty desperate lately. At the moment, I had more faith in other people's judgment than my own. Which is a frightening moment to find yourself in. The time had come to stop d.i.c.king around and admit the way I'd done things so far didn't work.
I seized on the idea of changing every element of my life. I would start over at the last point where I'd liked myself, which was before I lost my virginity and before I took my first drink. Then I would do every single detail differently; I'd get up on the other side of the bed, brush my teeth sideways instead of up and down, only sleep with nice guys who liked me-that would be a switch-stay sober, and stay on the ranch.
Armand's truck sputtered and kicked on. In my new-life rapture I'd forgotten to watch the front door. It was just dumb luck he didn't crawl in the barn doors and shoot us both dead. When he s.h.i.+fted into first, the truck jerked forward and died. The engine rumbled again, and, delicately, Armand turned it around and headed up the hill.
Shane came awake with a wheeze. ”Tell him to clutch with his heel, not his toes.”
”He'll learn,” I said.
”Holy Hannah, I'm freezing.” He was in bad shape, s.h.i.+vering and coughing. His face felt clammy cold and hot at the same time.
I talked as I wrapped blankets around his arms. ”Shane, I've decided to start all over at the beginning.”
”I wish I could do that.”
”I'll stop drinking by pretending I never started. I'll stay home on the ranch and won't go to college. I'll wear too much makeup instead of none, I'll die my hair blond. If I'm blond, I won't have to drink to attract men.”