New Stories From the South 2010: The Year's Best

by Amy Hempel

  If I had a camera, we would take that picture, said Sue, the cook.

  Once the lights were out Marcus reached into his clothes, where he had hidden the panties, and they were still there. He brought them out as carefully as he would a baby animal. Each time he took them out Marcus liked to pretend it was the first time he had found them. He hadn’t even told Lolly about the panties. Lolly was the mudman’s name. He was lean, with a network of veins that wrapped all around his arms and went up his neck, even to his temples, where they pulsed softly when he ate or thought.

  Lolly did the exact same things at the exact same times every day. But they had changed a little after he met Marcus. For instance, he had drawn his boat up next to Marcus’s and they had started to talk at night.

  It aint hard to figure out, Lolly said. He said this every night and repeated it seven or eight times in the way other people brushed their teeth or gargled. Lolly never slept. He did something else in which he talked to people who weren’t there, and Marcus smelled his sweat and saw the flash of his arms gesturing in the dark.

  If I hadn’t of went to drinking, he said. Don’t never go to drinking, Marcus.

  Too late, said Marcus.

  Lolly’s wife had been going out on him for years and he never said a word about it until one afternoon he went over to the man’s house and emptied a .357 into his chest. The man had been mowing his yard. Everybody understood the simplicity. But to Lolly it was of the complexity of a cut jewel. He held it up and turned it around so different lights and colors formed and chanted to it. At first Marcus tried to answer back to his questions because he thought Lolly wanted a way out, but gradually he saw that the jewel was impenetrable and precious to Lolly and that he wanted to kill the man more now than he had been able to kill him before. He was keeping Marcus awake. Marcus had become almost sorry he had a friend, because life had been so much easier without one, and he just wanted to be alone with the undiscovered panties. Zoomer slept, and the others without friends slept, dreaming no doubt of titties and checkbooks. Lolly pushed and reached and shaped with his hands and arms with great strength as if he were mixing mud, but no matter how hard he mixed it would always come out to the same consistency.

  Tonight Marcus had an idea.

  Just lie, he said.

  Huh? said Lolly.

  In the blue light Marcus saw the same look out of Lolly’s eyes that he had seen in the dogs before the needle went in. Huh, said Lolly.

  Why don’t you just tell a damn lie.

  Lolly sat up on his boat.

  If I hadn’t of went to drinking, he said.

  Marcus turned over. He could see his own breath, but he could see it in a new way, such that it came out of his mouth or nose and wavered around and stayed in the air a long time. He was afraid the panties would lose their feeling. If he kept them out too long, they did, like bubblegum. But they would always regenerate. He could put them up and take them back out later. Probably it was the depth of the cold. Everybody was buried in big army coats. The sheriff had brought them in, a pile of them so big they couldn’t even see who he was until he dumped them on the concrete table in the dayroom.

  May hurt the rhubarb tonight, said the sheriff. Think the frost will hurt the rhubarb, Mr. Brabson?

  He was talking to Lolly. The sheriff called him Mr. Brabson.

  Think it will do it good, Sheriff, said Lolly.

  The sheriff began to size them up. You need you a big one, he said to Sykes. Sykes looked as if he had taken offense. He was big and round and soft with black-rimmed plastic glasses. Sykes always took offense. He lived to fight. When he couldn’t fight a person he fought air. He called fighting taking it to the road. By God, he would say, we’ll take it to the road. Early on Marcus thought he was the only one Sykes had chosen to hate. By God what are you looking at? was the first thing he said to Marcus. By God I asked you a question. You by God answer me. But Marcus saw that he threatened everybody. It is on, he said. It is by God on right now, big boy. Marcus had figured he was in jail for killing somebody, or several people, but it was only for felony failure to appear.

  I remember, said the sheriff. I remember how sometimes I didn’t have no winter coat when I was a boy. We was lucky if we even had wood cut.

  He cocked one skinny lean leg up on the concrete bench at the table. I always did look forward to thrashing time too. They had this big old machine that come around that done the thrashing. Daddy always had wheat. I looked forward to that because it meant I’d get me a new bed pillow. I’d get a new bed pillow and a new straw tick. That always did feel good to me. Get in them coats, boys. I done told you how cold it is going to be.

  Everybody had put on a coat except Purkey and the sleeper. Purkey didn’t want a coat. But he did have on a shirt, which was unusual for Purkey. The sheriff threw a coat over the sleeper. Marcus didn’t know who the sleeper was because he slept all the time. After the sheriff left, Marcus lay on his boat. The lights went out but the blue light of the snow was brighter than the yellow light of the lights had been.

  Your coat has got more fucking pockets, said Sykes, standing over Marcus’s boat.

  Take my fucking coat then, said Marcus, making as if he would take it off.

  This was how you dealt with Sykes.

  Take my fucking coat right, Marcus kept saying.

  I don’t want it now, said Sykes. They done give it to you, big boy. It has done got all your shit on it.

  He shut up for a second, but then he said, But all’s I don’t understand is how come they give you one with more pockets.

  Because he is special, said Zoomer.

  He will be special, said Sykes, too softly. At the road he will. Mine is ripped, too.

  But he hushed. If you talked too much, the cold got into your mouth and slurred the tongue and hurt the teeth. It was as if it had already frozen the concrete, and it was coming up through the boat and its mat directly into Marcus’s side and his limbs. It was hardening his face. Marcus tried to cover up. He imagined that he was on a straw tick, whatever that was. And he had straw for his pillow. That had to be awful scratchy. He held the panties against his face and imagined that it was not his warmth in them but hers. He smelled the fabric, trying to differentiate it from the jail’s cabbagy smell of years of prisoner habitation. He felt its weave, which smelled of the dryer and slightly of cigarettes but of something else too, something more marvelous. In his mind Marcus ran through seeing the girl again, and when he came to the end he would rewind and run it again with the softness and warmth of the panties on his cheek. This was the way, exactly the way, they had felt on her own skin. From the panties Marcus thought he could tell what she washed with and ate and how her voice sounded when she thought nobody could hear the sound of her voice. He could remember how she walked. She had a kind of float to her as if her hipbones were filled with a lighter substance.

  When something woke him up he was sure it was daylight. The light was bright, coming through the slot windows, and several men were standing around him. But it was still only the blue light of the snow that had brightened as the night went on. It was bright enough to see that one of them had the panties. Lolly was talking even more persuasively.

  What are you doing? Marcus asked.

  At first they didn’t say anything. Then Zoomer said, Having us a party.

  Marcus started to get up and realized his feet were numb from cold. His ears were numb too. A few of them started pitching the panties around in such a way that made Marcus feel as if his heart had been pulled out. Zoomer started screaming. Marcus had heard Zoomer scream before and it was awful. It rang against the walls. Marcus was certain the jailers would hear it and be in there in a second, but they stopped pitching and Zoomer calmed down. He had the panties and was smoothing them carefully on the table.

  Respect, said Zoomer. Have a little.

  But he didn’t even know the first thing about handling panties. Marcus wished he could kill Zoomer and kill everybody in the room and have the pant
ies back. He was trembling on top of his shivering, but it was best not to let on. Everybody else, except Lolly, was in a festive mood. The whole dayroom was filled with mirth and moonlight. They were stomping and squeezing themselves and if they passed in front of a slot window a lingering smoke came out of their nostrils.

  Is it always this cold? Marcus asked.

  I aint never seen it like this, Lolly said.

  Zoomer was passing out the cups. He had worked hard on them. It had taken effort to amount up nine plastic cups from the kitchen. The cups were an attractive golden plastic. Zoomer distributed one to each. Kimsey was sitting on the table dangling his legs and holding his cup out, and Purkey was going from man to man pushing the way football players used to do before a game in high school. Marcus wished he never had quit football or high school. Zoomer brought out his container, which he had patched together out of various containers, and it was bigger than Marcus had heard. It was full too. Each prisoner, including Marcus and Lolly, held out his cup, and Zoomer poured and everybody bitched about somebody else getting more and Zoomer shushed everybody.

  Sykes gave a sign that wrestlers give before a move.

  Nobody’s going to hear nothing, he said.

  Marcus looked at him. How do you know? he said.

  Because of the tragedy, said Zoomer.

  What tragedy? said Marcus.

  The sheriff’s tragedy, he said. He held up his cup. His wife is dead. Zoomer swirled his drink. She is very extremely dead.

  How come?

  Because that is often what happens, said Zoomer, when you get run over by a damn car.

  Sykes laughed. He made a move on an imaginary opponent.

  He didn’t say nothing. We just now seen him, said Marcus. He was pointing as if to prove it.

  People don’t say nothing about something like that, said Zoomer.

  He was probably crazy right then, said Purkey. I was crazy right after that woman died.

  But you killed her, said Zoomer.

  Marcus felt for the sheriff, if it was true. He thought back on it and something had been wrong with him, the way he acted about the rhubarb and the straw pillow. Once everybody had a drink Zoomer brought out the Lysol. Everybody cheered softly when he held it up. Zoomer went around and sprayed a good spray of Lysol in each cup. Marcus started to smell it and Zoomer slapped him.

  Do not smell it, Zoomer said. If you smell it you won’t drink it. Oh, God, do not smell it.

  The slap didn’t even sting, but it had popped loudly.

  I wouldn’t let him slap me like that, said Sykes.

  One thing about it, Zoomer said. They won’t be no germs in here.

  They all looked at him. All drank. After they drank there was a great deal of muttering and swearing and some choking and somebody said, God-damn Zoomer that is nasty, and then a pause before they started drinking again. Zoomer sipped and smacked his lips as if it were delicious.

  Even old mudman is having him some, said Zoomer.

  It got quiet. Everybody stared at Lolly holding his cup.

  Boys, said Lolly, you gone turn it loose. You don’t be careful you gone to.

  Everybody thought about that. It sounded like a warning, but how could it be much of a warning when Lolly had a drink in his hand too?

  I like the sound of that, said Zoomer.

  It was quiet again, as if things could go either way now.

  I thought you didn’t drink, said Marcus.

  I do in a pinch, said Zoomer.

  Is it a pinch? asked Purkey.

  It is a pinch, Purkey, said Zoomer.

  Marcus realized that Zoomer looked different because he didn’t have on his glasses. He had big watery eyes. Marcus thought that was because he spent so much time reading the books and magazines his parents brought him. Zoomer would not share his books and magazines. He would not share the candy they brought him either, except for some of the hard ones and even then no straw-berry. Zoorner’s parents thought very highly of him. He was their only child. Marcus tried to stay off to himself because he saw it had started. Marcus was young but he still knew that it didn’t matter what anybody did, because when it needed to start, it started. Even the sleeper had risen. He had not risen fully but he was far enough up to drink. The sleeper had freckles all over him. Marcus drank more. It was no time before the top of his head began to tingle and the angel hole opened up. The taste was very bad. His body began to hum. Marcus looked over at Lolly, who was sipping. The vein of his temple winked. Marcus felt the angel hole slip a little wider. It was nothing but air, an air hole. Marcus wished Lolly would do something. He realized he had been counting on Lolly to steer, but when he thought of what there was to steer he didn’t want to think of Lolly steering it.

  Everybody was lightening up. Some had even taken off their coats. Purkey got excited. When he got excited, he jumped up and down and wrung his hands as if they were wet. He did that for a few minutes and then he had to puke. He made it to the toilet and puked several times.

  It’s gone, he said, the toilet bowl magnifying his sobs. I can’t get it back.

  A lot is already in your bloodstream, said Zoomer. Besides, it aint been flushed yet.

  Purkey began to lap from the toilet like a dog, but he stopped and puked again.

  Purkey is pukey, said Zoomer. Pukey little Purkey. Have you ever read that book about the pukey little Purkey?

  Zoomer poured more for Purkey. He poured with one hand and Lysoled with the other.

  I gave you a extra spray, he said to Purkey. Everybody liked Purkey.

  Fuck you, Zoomer, said Purkey through his tears.

  Marcus had seen Purkey before they both got in jail. He was hard to miss because he rode a bicycle around all the time. Not that many people in Alexander County rode bicycles anymore, but Purkey did. He was wiry, with stringy hair. He had strangled a woman to death with her bra. It was a woman he barely knew from a plant where they both used to work until Purkey got fired. His lawyer tried to tell them that Purkey was retarded but Purkey wouldn’t have any of that. He pleaded guilty and before long he was going to Brushy, soon as they had a bed. Everybody thought a lot of Purkey. He was always doing something funny. One day they were waiting to be signed back in from work and somebody said, Old Purkey, he’s a good one, and somebody else said, You wouldn’t think he’d of done nothing like they said he done. Every-body got quiet and concerned and didn’t know what to say. Finally Zoomer spoke up. Why, he said, he was wanting that pussy. That’s how come him to do it. And everybody cheered up and agreed that must have been true.

  Marcus lay back on his boat. His feet and ears never had gone back to feeling, but now he didn’t mind. It was like springtime. He could smell the grass somebody was mowing. He could smell his baptism water again. Marcus reminded himself that the panties after all were only panties. They weren’t the girl. But he still waited for a chance to take them back. He felt funny. It was something additional to drunk. It was good, but not good enough. It was a little sad to realize that even something additional to drunk was not enough. Marcus wondered how additional he needed, and it seemed to be very very much.

  Purkey had the panties over his head. He had them such that the two leg holes were on each side of his face and his mouth was right there in the crotch. Marcus could see his lips moving through the cloth. It sickened him and he was afraid he would puke too.

  Okay, said Zoomer, pointing to Purkey’s mouth and unzipping his fly. I’m sinking it in.

  Purkey jerked the panties off and laughed as if that were the funniest thing ever and wrung his hands in the air. Zoomer had sat down on the table and was studying the Lysol can. It was a big industrial one. A radio played.

  Lysol Brand Disinfectant Spray kills viruses and bacteria on environmental surfaces in your home and in public places, read Zoomer. He had the can right up in front of his large, watery eyes, each of which seemed to look around one side of the can. It eliminates germs and odors on hard nonporous surfaces that you come in contact wi
th every day

  Zoomer paused, turned the can around, and sprayed a long spray right into his mouth. He licked his lips.

  Use Lysol Brand Disinfectant Spray in empty garbage cans, in pet areas, in sick rooms, under sinks. He paused, choking a little. Lolly stopped laughing. He had been laughing at everything Zoomer read, and even when he stopped he waited expectantly, ready to laugh some more. His laughter was disappointing to Marcus.

  Wonder what it feels like to kill somebody, said Zoomer. I wonder what the natural high is like. What is it like, Lolly?

  Lolly shook his head and laughed a little more softly

  It has to be an adrenaline rush, Zoomer said. God. What’s it like, Purkey?

  What, said Purkey.

  Killing somebody. What does it feel like? Is it a rush?

  Purkey stared at Zoomer as if he had crossed a line.

  In diaper pails, resumed Zoomer, in empty hampers, on door-knobs, around toilet areas. Fast easy effective.

  Kimsey swung down from the ceiling pipe and without looking up Zoomer said, I am not involved in that.

  What he was not involved in was the vent grate that Kimsey had removed and had been sticking back on with little things he made out of toothpaste. Kimsey would take a running start and leap up the wall and hang on a pipe and swing over to the grate. Tonight he had his light brown hair slicked back. He had a big plan and it seemed that tonight, since God had sucked all the warmth out of the world, all big plans were being put to work. Kimsey had it to the point where he could disappear into the duct with only the bottoms of his feet hanging out. He was developing a way to F Block and once he was in there, he was going to fuck every female in the jail and then run, he had told Marcus. Run so fast nobody would ever catch him.