Thalia

by Larry McMurtry

  Then in the midst of it all the heifer finally broke loose and went dashing across the lot with one of the freshmen hanging furiously to her tail. Sonny was just as glad. Somehow it wasn’t as exciting as it had been when he was a freshman.

  “Look at ol’ Billy takin’ that in,” Leroy said. “What we ought to do is buy him a piece. We could get the carhop for a dollar, if it was just Billy.”

  “Hell, if she’s that cheap we ought to gone to her ourselves,” Duane said. “I heard she was a five-dollar whore.”

  “Naw,” Leroy said. “Anybody with five dollars can do better than Jimmie Sue. That heifer’s got prettier legs than she has. She’d be okay for Billy, though. I’ve heard that idiots die when they’re fifteen or sixteen—we oughtn’t to sit around and let Billy die a virgin.”

  “I don’t know if we ought to try anything like that,” Sonny said. “What if it upset Billy and Sam the Lion found out about it? I’d just as soon not get crosswise with Sam.”

  “Aw don’t be a chickenshit, Crawford,” Leroy said. “It might do Billy good to get a little.”

  “Not if he gets it from Jimmie Sue it wouldn’t,” Sonny said, very ill at ease.

  “You don’t have to chip in if you’re so stingy,” Duane said. “Let’s go on and get her.”

  Sonny quit arguing—he really didn’t know how to argue against a whole crowd. He never had even wanted to before. They piled back in the pickup and he drove to the back entrance of the town’s one little hotel. Leroy and Duane went up to make arrangements with Jimmie Sue Jones, the available girl, and Sonny sat in the cab with Billy, who was still sucking on the empty Coke bottle. It was almost the first time in Sonny’s life that he had not been willing to go on and do whatever the crowd was doing. Before, it had always seemed like fun, whether it was getting drunk or screwing heifers, but he didn’t think it would be any fun at all to make Billy do it with Jimmie Sue. Billy was in a perfectly peaceful mood, sucking on the bottle and glad to be along with all the boys, and it seemed a pity to disturb him.

  In a minute the boys came out with Jimmie Sue, who was a sort of drive-in version of Penny, only dirtier. She had been car-hopping in Thalia for nine years and everyone in town was tired of her. She had been married once, to a mechanic with rat-tail sideburns, but he soon left her and went back to Bossier City, Louisiana, where he came from. The drive-in paid Jimmie Sue next to nothing and she seldom got tips, so she had to peddle herself when she could to make ends meet. She dyed her hair red and had no eyebrows except those she painted on in the morning, and she was so absentminded that sometimes she only painted on one eyebrow and went around like that all day. For Billy she didn’t bother to paint on even one. When she got in the cab it immediately began to smell so oniony that Sonny had to roll his windows down. Jimmie Sue looked at Billy disgustedly.

  “Why that thing’s just a kid,” she said. “You all oughtn’t to woke me up for a thing like that. I ought to get at least two dollars.”

  “Hell no, you said a dollar and a half,” Duane reminded her.

  “Well, I’d just as soon it was an idiot as not,” Jimmie Sue said, unpeeling a stick of chewing gum. “The only thing I draw the line at is Mixicans and niggers. I guess I told you about the time that nigger man in high heels stole my suitcase right out of the bus station, that time I went to Los Angeles. . . .”

  It had been Jimmie Sue’s one adventure. She saved her money and went to Los Angeles to work, but the very hour she arrived in the Los Angeles bus station a black man wearing high heels stole her suitcase and all her possessions. Jimmie Sue had never been so disappointed in all her life as she was with Los Angeles. She couldn’t get a job and had to turn around and hitchhike back to Thalia, to keep from starving. Hitchhiking across the desert without any eyebrows proved a slow business, too. If it hadn’t been for a carful of horny Mexicans she never would have got out of Needles, California, and bad as that was, Lordsburg, New Mexico was worse. Tired of eating dust, she let a Negro pick her up. By the time she got back to Thalia she had nothing good to say about minority groups.

  Billy looked at her with mild curiosity, but was obviously neither disturbed nor excited by her presence in the cab. Sonny drove back over the narrow, one-vehicle road that cut through the mesquite to the stockpens.

  “You all just get that thing out while I get ready,” Jimmie Sue said. “This ain’t the ideal dressin’ room.”

  Billy was happy to get out: he wondered if they were going to sit on the fence and watch the boys chase the cow again. To his surprise, no sooner was he out than six or seven of the boys grabbed him and unceremoniously threw him down on the cold hard ground. They took off his shoes, pants, and underwear. Groups of boys were always taking his pants off, and that alone wouldn’t have bothered him. It was having them off so late at night and at the stockpens that puzzled him. Also his legs were cold.

  “All right,” Jimmie Sue said. “Let the stupid little thing in.”

  “Wait a minute,” Duane said. “There’s a flashlight there in the glove compartment. We want to show him where to go.”

  He got the flashlight and flashed it over Jimmie Sue, who was laying back in the pickup seat, as spraddle-legged as the narrow pickup would permit her to be. All the boys looked, and for a moment, paused in amazement. None of them had realized quite how fat Jimmy Sue was until the flashlight played over her huge hams and flabby stomach; nor had they considered how unappetizing the female anatomy could be when presented in its most unappealing light. They were all quiet for a moment, staring. It was only after they had looked for a while that they began to feel a little stirred up. Jimmie Sue was so ugly it was almost exciting—it was as if they were finally being shown the nasty things parents and preachers had always whispered about. It wasn’t exactly what they had expected, because they persisted in thinking about it in terms of pretty girls, movie stars like Elizabeth Taylor, but it was precisely what they had been taught to expect, and after the shock wore off it was exciting.

  “Shove that thing in here with me,” Jimmie Sue said. “I never hired out for no peep show.”

  The boys shoved Billy in, more or less between Jimmie Sue’s legs, and tried to shut the door. They couldn’t get it completely shut but there were so many of them there was not much chance it would come open.

  Billy grunted with surprise and tried to back out, but he was trapped.

  “Why this is the dumbest thing I ever saw,” Jimmie Sue said. “It don’t even know what to do.”

  The boys flashed the light long enough to see that Jimmie Sue had managed to catch Billy with her legs, but she yelled at them to turn it off and they did. Apparently Billy got close enough to the object of it all that he caught on, because he stopped pushing backward and in a moment the pickup began to rock a little from side to side. Everybody yelled encouragement.

  “Quit that yellin’ and get hold of this thing,” Jimmie Sue said irritably. “He ain’t in.”

  The flashlight was brought into play again and it was discovered that Billy, cramped as he was had completely missed his natural target and was poking energetically at a deep wrinkle in the folds of Jimmie Sue’s stomach. Duane and Leroy laughed until they could barely stand up, but the younger kids were more fascinated than amused. None of them had ever seen so strange a sight, and they made no effort to correct Billy’s aim. Jimmie Sue was getting madder by the minute.

  Sonny stood by the rear end of the pickup, determined not to look. It wasn’t that he thought Billy would mind him looking—it was just that he didn’t really want to look. Jimmie Sue was uglier than Charlene, and the pickup would smell like onions for weeks.

  “Why goddamn you, you little thing!” Jimmie Sue yelled furiously. “Now look what a mess you made!”

  Sonny knew from the tone of her voice that it was time to get Billy out, so he hurried around to the door. The boys still had the flashlight on and were cackling and giggling: Billy had reached the end of his journey while still in the wrinkle, and Jimmie Sue was poundin
g at his face, trying to back him out of the pickup. Sonny managed to scatter the crowd enough to get the door open and help Billy out, but calming him down was something else. He was scared and confused and shivering, and Jimmie Sue had bloodied his nose. Sonny helped him get dressed and even found the empty Coke bottle for him, but Billy no longer wanted it.

  “Well, now I know idiots is just as bad as Mixicans,” Jimmie Sue said. “Don’t you wake me up for that crazy thing no more. I wouldn’t mess with him agin for less than three-and-a-half.”

  By the time they got back to the poolhall the front of Billy’s shirt was all covered with blood. Sonny couldn’t get the nosebleed completely stopped. He knew Sam the Lion was going to be furious, and he didn’t blame him: it was no way to treat Billy. He wished he had known how to stop the whole business, but the only possible way would have been to offer to fight if they didn’t let Billy alone, and he couldn’t very well offer to fight when his own best buddy was one of the crowd. If Lester and Jacy hadn’t run off to the swimming party none of it would have ever happened.

  As soon as the pickup stopped Billy jumped out and ran in the poolhall. It was officially closed, but they could all see Sam the Lion inside, reading a newspaper he had spread out on one of the tables. All he was really doing was waiting for Billy to come in. They lived in a plain little three-room apartment above the poolhall, and Sam never went to bed until Billy was in safe.

  Billy ran right on past him, up the stairs, and Sam left his paper and followed him. The boys waited nervously outside, wondering if they would be able to narrate the episode in such a way that Sam the Lion would see the humor in it. Sonny knew they couldn’t and waited miserably for Sam to come down, but the boys who thought they might strutted around on the sidewalk talking with great bravado. Duane was sleepy and lay down in the cab of the pickup and went to sleep. The boys could have left, but none of them really wanted to go home until Sam the Lion came down and bawled them out. His bawling them out would relieve their minds of whatever minor guilt feelings they had about Billy, and would leave them free to enjoy the celebrity of having participated in such an event.

  Finally the light went out in the upstairs apartment and Sam the Lion came down. He opened the door and stood quietly a minute, looking at the boys. Sam the Lion was not the type who yelled and cussed about the pranks boys pulled. They could not see his face, but the light from the poolhall touched his white mane of hair.

  “Who’s got his underwear?” he asked, after a minute.

  Sonny had them, and it put him on a terrible spot. He had been so anxious to get Billy back in his pants that he had forgotten to put the underwear on him—he picked them up later and stuffed them in his pocket. For a moment he was tempted to say nothing and pretend the underwear was lost—if he pulled them out and handed them over it would make him seem more of a participant than he had been. Sam didn’t withdraw the question and the other boys began to look at Sonny nervously, so he took the underwear out of his pocket and awkwardly handed them over.

  “When I was helpin’ get his pants on I couldn’t find them,” he said. “I just forgot to hand them to him.”

  “Who went and bloodied his nose?”

  “Jimmie Sue Jones,” Leroy said. “We thought he was getting tired of being a virgin so we chipped in and bought him a piece. Jimmie Sue got mad about somethin’ and gave him that nosebleed.”

  “Jimmie Sue?” Sam said, startled. “You what?” He had supposed it was just a simple case of the boys taking Billy’s pants off, something that happened all the time. When he realized what Leroy said he was stunned, and sat down in the doorway of the poolhall.

  Sonny became really worried. “Is Billy all right?” he asked. “We’re sorry, Sam.”

  “He went to sleep,” Sam said, a little absently. “Did he want to go with Jimmie Sue?”

  “Not hardly,” Leroy said. “He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do.”

  Sam scratched his ankles for a minute and then stood up again. He didn’t look particularly mad, just tired and discouraged.

  “Boys, get on home,” he said. “I’m done with all of you. I don’t want to associate with you anymore and I don’t want Billy to, either. Scaring an unfortunate creature like Billy when there ain’t no reason to scare him is just plain trashy behavior. I’ve seen a lifetime of it and I’m tired of putting up with it. You can just stay out of this poolhall and out of my picture show and café too.”

  With that he closed and locked the door and went upstairs to bed. The boys were thunderstruck. They had been prepared for Sam to rage and storm and instead he had simply closed the door and locked them out. No one knew what to say. They stood on the cold sidewalk a minute, confused.

  “We’re his best customers,” Leroy said. “He can’t run us off, can he?”

  Sonny and the other boys knew very well he could. It made Sonny feel a little sick. They all crawled back into the pickup and Sonny delivered them to their homes. Duane didn’t fully wake up until they were back at the rooming house, and when Sonny told him what Sam the Lion had done he though it was hilariously funny. Since he had been lying down and Sam had not seen him it was clear to Duane that he was not included in the banishment.

  “Good thing I went to sleep when I did,” he said. “I’d hate to have to eat at that drive-in all the time.”

  He went in and contentedly went back to sleep, but Sonny stayed awake and reread most of an old copy of Outdoor Life. Duane taking the news the way he had made the evening even more depressing, and it had been depressing enough as it was.

  Kissing Mrs. Popper had been the only good thing that happened all night, and Sonny had no idea what would come of that. It occurred to him that at least it would be something exciting to think about in bed, so he turned the light off and tried it. Her face and the touch of her lips were fresh in his mind and it worked pretty well, though occasionally, before he finished, a few old images of Jacy and Genevieve slipped in. Jacking off was an old game, monotonous, but a good way to get to sleep when all else failed.

  Eleven

  WHEN SONNY KISSED MRS. POPPER OUTSIDE THE LEGION Hall it seemed to him that a whole spectrum of delicious experience lay suddenly within his grasp. No kisses had ever been so exciting and so full of promise, neither for him nor for Ruth. She felt as if she were finally about to discover something she had somehow missed discovering twenty years before. Neither of them foresaw any great difficulties, just the minor difficulty of keeping it all secret.

  Both, in fact, were so excited that they longed to talk about it to someone, but that they couldn’t do. In Thalia sex was just not talked about. Even Genevieve would go to considerable lengths to keep from calling a spade a spade. Everything acknowledged the existence of sex: babies were born now and then, and things to prevent them were sold at the drugstores and one or two of the filling stations. The men told dirty jokes and talked all the time about how they wished they had more pussy, but it didn’t really seem to bother many of them so long as the football team was doing well. The kids were told as little about sex as possible and spent most of their time trying to find out more. The boys speculated a lot among themselves and got the nature of the basic act straight when they were fairly young, but some of the girls were still in the dark about it when they graduated from high school. Many girls simply refused to believe that the things the boys peed out of could have any part in the creation of babies. They knew good and well that God wouldn’t have wanted any arrangement of His to be that nasty.

  The only thing everyone agreed on was that the act itself could only be earthly bliss. Once the obstacle of virginity was done away with, mutual ecstasy would be the invariable result. One or two of the bolder girls knew differently, but they didn’t want to be thought freaks so they kept quiet about their difficulties.

  When Sonny and Ruth met again, the Tuesday after the dance, they both expected things to be simple and wonderful, and they were both disappointed. For one thing, they both felt compelled to go thro
ugh with the unnecessary trip to the doctor; both of them were nervous and tense and they rode to Olney in silence. They dusty air had given Ruth a sniffle, and Sonny could see the bluish shadows under her eyes. The wait in Olney was short, but on the way back they found themselves even more at a loss for conversation than they had been coming. Ruth could not imagine what had possessed her to think she could bring off such a thing as a love affair. They each concluded that they were not as appealing in the daylight as they had been in the dark, so they sat looking out their separate windows at their separate sides of the road. There was little in the leafless winter landscape to cheer them.

  It was only when Sonny drove the Chevrolet into the dimness of the garage, with Herman’s lawn tools and hedge shears hanging neatly on the walls, that they regained some hope. They both realized they were about to miss the chance they had been counting on. Sonny reached for Ruth’s hand and she quickly scooted over toward him and they kissed. The kiss was awkward but warm and they didn’t think of moving apart—for several minutes they let their mouths and faces touch.

  Both would have been just as happy to stay in the garage all afternoon, but they felt obligated to complete the experience, and for that they had to go in the house, where things were not so good. The wallpaper in the bedroom was light green, and blotched in places. It was the bedroom where Ruth and Herman had spent virtually all their married nights: on one wall there was a plaque Herman had been given for taking a troop of Boy Scouts to the National Jubilee. Two or three copies of High School Athletics lay on the bedside table.

  “Are you sure he won’t come?” Sonny asked. The room seemed full of the coach.

  “You know he won’t,” Ruth said. “He’s just starting basketball practice.”

  She took his hand again and they kissed standing up. Neither of them really believed what she said: as they kissed both of them kept imagining the coach walking in. They were so conscious of him they hardly felt the kiss, but Ruth was determined to go on however dangerous it was, even if Herman did walk in.