Night in the Lonesome October

by Richard Laymon

  ‘It’s two different things,’ I said.

  ‘A left and a right?’

  ‘Knock it off.’ I sat in the armchair. ‘She’ll be out in a minute. She’s changing clothes.’

  ‘Oh, pity.’

  ‘When she does come out, how about ... ?’

  ‘I’ll be an angel,’ he said. ‘For you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I would believe it when I saw it.

  We sat there for a few minutes and didn’t talk much. Every so often, I glanced toward the hallway.

  ‘She doesn’t appear to be appearing,’ Kirkus said.

  ‘I’d better see what’s going on.’

  Chapter Fifty

  I went down the hallway to my bedroom. The door was shut. I knocked softly, but Eileen didn’t respond so I eased it open. The light was on.

  Eileen, still in her gown, was lying on my bed, snoring. Her arms were limp by her sides, her legs hanging off the edge of the mattress, her feet not quite touching the floor. Her left leg, free of the slit in her skirt, was bare all the way up to her hip.

  I took a step toward her, then changed my mind. Leaving the lamp on, I stepped into the hallway and silently shut the door.

  When I entered the living room, Kirkus raised his eyebrows.

  ‘She’s out,’ I said

  ‘Out?’

  ‘Asleep.’

  ‘Passed out, you mean.’

  ‘I don’t know. Anyway, I decided not to wake her up.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Shrugging, I said, ‘So I guess that’s about it. Thanks for coming over, Rudy. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.’

  ‘But the night is young.’

  ‘Well, I’m a little tired myself. I’ll probably take a nap, then try to hit the books for a while.’

  Instead of getting up, Kirkus smiled and spread out his arms along the back of the sofa. ‘I really shouldn’t leave without properly thanking the hostess.’

  ‘You can thank her tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, that would never do. I’ll stay. She’s bound to wake up sooner or later.’

  ‘Kirkus.’

  ‘Be nice, Eddie. I am, after all, your guest.’

  ‘The party’s over, okay? Time to go.’

  ‘Now, now. You don’t want to ruin a beautiful evening by turning surly at the end, do you? Why don’t you offer me another drink? Those Hooches are certainly tasty. We’ll both partake of another while we have ourselves a nice chat, and then I’ll be on my way.’

  I was about to protest.

  ‘Pleeeease,’ he said, and batted his eyelids.

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘One more itsy-bitsy drink. For the road.’

  ‘Then you’ll go?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’ With an outstretched forefinger, he grandly crossed his heart.

  ‘All right.’ I started toward the kitchen. ‘We’ll have one more drink, then you’ll leave. No ifs, ands or buts.’

  ‘I shall hightail my tail out the door.’

  ‘Okay.’

  In the kitchen, I took our glasses off the table and put ice into them. I didn’t want another drink, myself. I’d had more than enough already, and was afraid that one more might knock me off my feet

  I had plans for those feet.

  But I couldn’t figure an easy way to fake the look of a Hoocha, so I went ahead and made two real ones. I carried them into the living room.

  Kirkus patted the sofa beside him. ‘Sit here.’

  ‘Thanks anyway,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not a leper, old boy.’

  ‘I know.’

  Keeping the coffee table between us, I set down his glass.

  ‘Please.’ Again, he patted the cushion by his hip. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t molest you.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ I took my own drink back to the armchair and sat down.

  He smirked slightly. ‘You’re afraid of me.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

  ‘Then sit with me.’

  ‘I’m fine here.’ I took a small sip of my drink, then put it down on the lamp table.

  ‘Actually,’ Kirkus said, ‘though I’ve often assailed you for various aspects of your rather unfortunate personality, I never dreamed you were a homophobe.’

  ‘A homophobe? Is that something like a xylophone?’

  ‘I’m not amused.’

  ‘Neither am I, as a matter of fact. All of a sudden, you’re calling me names.’

  ‘If the shoe fits ...’

  ‘I would really expect a more original figure of speech, Kirkus, from someone of your erudition.’

  He chuckled softly, shook his head, and took a drink. ‘Sit where you like,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks for the permission.’

  Slumped on the sofa, he took another drink. Then he stared at me. Then he sighed. ‘Eduardo, Eduardo.’

  ‘Rudolph, Rudolph.’

  ‘What must you think of me?’

  ‘Right now, I just wish you’d leave so I can take a nap.’

  ‘I’m rather sleepy, myself.’ He yawned elaborately and patted his mouth. ‘And I’ve such a long walk home. Perhaps I should take a brief nap here before I leave.’

  ‘Yeah. sure.’

  ‘We’ll both nap.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘My God, man, what are you afraid of?’

  There was no answer that wouldn’t either offend Kirkus or cause him to mock me, so I simply shrugged.

  ‘You’re afraid I’ll molest you while you snooze,’ he said.

  Bingo.

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ I said.

  ‘I would never do such a thing.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  His eyes suddenly twinkled. ‘Shall we give it a try?’

  ‘No.’

  He laughed. ‘Coward.’

  ‘Gimme a break.’

  ‘No,’ he said, frowning. ‘You give me a break. Don’t automatically think the worst of me. What have I ever done to make you suspect I would molest you in your sleep?’

  ‘Nothing I can think of at the moment,’ I admitted.

  ‘And I would never do it.’ Breaking into a smile, he said, ‘Tempted though I might be.’

  ‘Well, I aim to save you from the temptation. Drink up, okay?’

  ‘You’re a hard man, Eduardo.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Of course, I adore hard men.’ With that, he raised his glass as if toasting me, then drank the rest of his Hoocha de Los Muertos.

  I stood up and went to the door and opened it.

  ‘So it’s the bum’s rush, is it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it that way. Party’s over, that’s all. Time to fold your tent like the Arab and silently steal away.’

  ‘How poetic,’ he muttered.

  ‘Knew you’d like it.’

  He struggled off the sofa, stretched and yawned, then came to the door and stopped in front of me. He bobbed up and down a couple of times on the balls of his feet. Then he said, ‘Well, old man, it’s been a slice.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Please inform Sleeping Beauty that I adored the repast and her cocktails were marvelous.’

  ‘I’ll tell her.’

  He stuck out his hand. I shook it. When I tried to let go, he held on.

  ‘Until next time at my place,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll see.’

  He released my hand. Backing into the hallway, he said, ‘Still mates?’

  ‘Mates?’

  ‘Friends, laddie.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Jolly!’ He twirled away and strolled down the hallway.

  I shut my door.

  ‘All right!’ I whispered.

  Though glad to be rid of him, I also felt slightly ashamed of myself. I’d treated him badly. He’d brought it on himself, but that didn’t make me feel any better about it.

  I carried our glasses out to the kitchen. His was empty, but mi
ne was nearly full. I poured the remains of my drink into the sink. Then I cleared off the table and started to do the dishes.

  For a long time, I couldn’t take my mind off Kirkus. In some ways, I felt sorry for him. He’d had some tough times in his life. There was no excuse for the way kids had abused him in school ... and the tattoo! The last thing he needed was me adding to his grief.

  I should really be nicer to him, I thought. I ought to be his friend.

  Then I thought, How can I be his friend when he acts like a total asshole half the time?

  For a while, I wondered why he was such an asshole.

  He really isn’t one, I thought. It’s an act. A very obvious act.

  Which made it even more strange. Why would he or anyone else put on an elaborate performance designed to annoy people? Did he want everyone to despise him?

  Apparently.

  Some sort of self-destructive thing?

  Maybe it’s to keep people at a distance so he doesn’t get attached to them. Get attached, and they can hurt you.

  Dump you.

  Like my good old friend, Holly, hurt me.

  As I scrubbed the skillet in which Eileen had prepared the fajitas, I wondered what Holly was doing at the moment. I glanced at my wristwatch. A quarter till eight. Maybe on her way to the movies with Jay-Jay the Wonder Boy.

  Or are they in bed?

  I pictured Holly on her back, a handsome strange boy on top of her, plunging into her ... and I felt no jealousy, no bittersweet longing for Holly, no pain, no anger, not much of anything at all.

  I didn’t really care what Holly was doing. Didn’t care at all.

  As I dried the skillet with a dish towel, I wondered what Casey might be doing at the moment. Not even eight o’clock yet. Was she in a house somewhere? Her own, or someone else’s? Or was she outside, roaming the dark streets?

  If I went out now, would I have any luck finding her?

  I can’t go out now, I reminded myself; Eileen’s here.

  She’s asleep.

  Is she?

  I finished the dishes, then went down the hall to my bedroom. Gently pushing open the door, I saw that the lamp was still on. I opened the door wider and saw Eileen. She was still crooked on my bed, her legs hanging off. She didn’t look as if she’d moved at all since the last time I’d seen her.

  Dead to the world, but snoring up a storm.

  She’s so out of it, I thought, she probably won’t wake up for hours. If left alone, she might sleep through the entire night and halfway through tomorrow morning.

  She’ll never know I’m gone.

  I can’t just go off and leave her, I told myself. It wouldn’t be fair. She came over to be with me. She made those great drinks and the dinner. She loves me. I can’t just abandon her.

  She’s asleep.

  But what if she wakes up later? She might. And then she’ll know I went away.

  Leave her a note.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Sneaking around the bedroom, I gathered my blue jeans, chamois shirt, sneakers, knife and flashlight while Eileen continued to snore.

  I carried them into the hall and set them down. Standing in the doorway, I watched Eileen for a while. Especially the skin revealed by the plunging top of her gown. And her left leg outside the slit.

  Exposed to the hip, and no sign of panties.

  Isn’t she wearing any?

  I could find out ... simply sneak over to the bed and ease my hand through the slit.

  She isn’t.

  But if she does have panties on, I thought, she would be glad to have me take them off.

  Except she’s asleep.

  Asleep.

  Staring at Eileen, I remembered being in the bed with Casey last night. The feel of her warm breath on my face as she slept. The feel of her breast. And how I had furtively explored her ...

  I suddenly ached to be with Casey.

  No matter that Eileen loved me, that Eileen was sprawled on my bed, that Eileen’s body was almost within sight and touch beneath her gown. No matter that she was beautiful and passionate and smart and wonderful. No matter any of it; I needed to be with Casey.

  I was tempted to turn off the bedroom light. In the dark, Eileen would probably sleep longer. Again, however, I feared that a sudden absence of light might wake her. So I left it on and silently shut the door.

  In the living room, I changed into my dark clothes and slipped the knife and flashlight into my pockets. Then I went into the kitchen to write my note.

  It wasn’t easy. The first version had so many words and entire sentences scratched out that I finally threw it in the wastebasket and started over again.

  Come on! I thought. She’ll wake up and I’ll never get out of here.

  Finally, it was done.

  Dear Eileen,

  Your dinner was great! Kirkus loved it, too, and he thanks you profusely. (I finally got him to leave.)

  Hope you had a good sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I left you as-is.

  I’m feeling a little restless, myself, and am going for a walk. The walk is why I’m not here, in case you’re wondering.

  Please don’t leave. You’re welcome to stay all night. I’m counting on finding you here when I return. Tomorrow’s Saturday. No classes. We can sleep in. Maybe I’ll bring us back some donuts for breakfast.

  Done except for the closing.

  It required, ‘Love, Ed,’ but I was reluctant.

  Go ahead, I told myself.

  I could just sign it, ‘Me.’

  She’ll hate it if she doesn’t find ‘love’ at the bottom of the note.

  But what if I don’t love her? Should I write it anyway?

  Not writing it would be like a blatant denial that I love her. I don’t want that.

  Why not?

  Maybe I do love her.

  Then why am I sneaking out to find Casey?

  Muttering, ‘Screw it,’ I signed, ‘Love, Ed.’

  I gave the note a final, quick proof-reading, then folded it in half and stood it up like a tent in the middle of the kitchen table. On my way to the door, I was tempted to look in on Eileen again to make sure she was still asleep.

  If she’s awake, I’ll call it off. I’ll stay. We’ll make love and ...

  Forget it, I thought. If she is awake, I don’t want to know it.

  I stepped out into the hall, eased my door shut, made sure it was locked, then headed for the stairway. My heart was beating fast. My legs felt shaky.

  How can I do this to her?

  Easy, I told myself.

  But it wasn’t easy, not really. I knew it was wrong to sneak out, leaving Eileen on her own. Especially wrong because I was abandoning her to go on a quest for Casey.

  I’m stabbing her in the back

  No, I’m not, I thought. More than likely, she’ll be asleep the whole time I’m gone.

  Is she less stabbed in the back, I wondered, if she doesn’t know about it?

  Probably not. I’ve done the deed whether Eileen’s aware of it or not. I’m just as much of a bastard either way.

  No better than Holly.

  So don’t go, I told myself.

  I started making my way slowly, quietly down the stairs.

  Go on back, I told myself. Destroy the note ...

  I can’t.

  I can’t give up Casey. Maybe it won’t work out, anyway, but I have to see it through and find out. Can’t just quit on her when we’ve only just gotten started. Not out of some stupid loyalty to Eileen.

  What did I really owe to Eileen, anyway? I’d no sooner been dumped by Holly than Eileen had jumped all over me.

  I’m not her lover, I’m her prey.

  With those thoughts racing through my mind, I felt justified and liberated and rotten as I hurried down the final stairs and heard voices from the Fishers’ room.

  One voice belonged to Mrs Fisher.

  The other came from Kirkus.

  Yellow light was spilling onto the carpet runner in
front of the Fishers’ doorway.

  I stopped.

  My chances of sneaking past the door without being seen were pretty much zip.

  Just great, I thought.

  Maybe it’s a sign; I’m not meant to leave the building. I’m not meant to go out and see Casey tonight. I’m meant, instead, to return to my apartment and be with Eileen.

  ‘Fuck what’s meant,’ I muttered.

  I strode forward. My heart pounded faster. The voices from inside the room grew louder, more distinct.

  ‘... sure it will be splendid,’ Kirkus said.

  ‘Well, come on by tomorrow and I’ll ...’

  I walked past the doorway. In my perpheral vision, I glimpsed the back of Kirkus. He seemed to be well inside the room.

  ‘There goes young Logan, now,’ said Mrs Fisher.

  Shit.

  ‘Where’s he off to?’ inquired Kirkus.

  I kept moving, faster than before.

  I rounded the comer, then rushed across the foyer to the building’s front door. As I pulled it open, Kirkus called out, ‘Eduardo!’

  Caught!

  Briefly, I considered bolting.

  Play it cool!

  Holding the door wide open, I looked around and smiled at Kirkus. ‘I’m just on my way out,’ I said. ‘You coming?’

  He nodded and hurried toward me. I held the door for him, then followed him outside.

  ‘Waylaid by the landlady?’ I asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Kirkus. ‘Agnes is a dear. We’ve been having a marvelous time, and it appears that I’ll shortly be your neighbor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They have a vacancy upstairs, a mere two doors away from you.’

  ‘And you’re thinking about moving in?’

  ‘It’s very nearly a done deal, old boy.’ He slapped me on the back. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘Wonderful.’ I tried not to sound aghast.

  ‘I’m so thrilled.’

  At the sidewalk in front of the building, I stopped and faced him. ‘We can talk about it tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I have to get going.’

  ‘Decided against the nap, did we?’

  ‘I felt like getting some fresh air.’

  ‘Well, allow me to accompany you. Together, we’ll drink deep of the brisk October night.’

  ‘I was hoping for some peace and quiet.’