“Come on, stand up,” he said. When she did, he urged her out of her clothes, waiting impatiently, and when the clothes were strewn at her feet, he ran his hands down her sides, grinning a little, not at the thought of her but at the thought of her mother. “Be sure you got them overalls under you,” he said, when he helped her up on the table.
In a moment he was above her and Jacy pressed her hands against the hard muscles of his arms, not sure of anything. Then he moved and she was sure again, sure it was hurting, sure he was too much. She stretched her arms above her head and caught her fingers in the corner pockets, sucking in her breath. She wanted to tell him to quit but he was ignoring her, and before she could tell him it changed; she was no longer hurting but she was still ignored. He was just going on, absorbed in himself, moving, nudging, thrusting—she was no more than an object. She wanted to protest that, but before she could she began to lose sight of herself, lose hold of herself. She was rolled this way and that, into feelings she hadn’t known, hadn’t expected, couldn’t avoid. She lost all thought of doing anything, she was completely lost to herself. He played her out as recklessly as he had played the final ball, and when he did she scattered as the red balls had scattered when the white one struck them so hard. She spread out, diffused, almost unconscious. Abilene said nothing. Jacy didn’t know anything until she realized he had left the table and was not touching her anymore.
In a minute she got up too and tried to find something of herself. It was all new, and it was going to be wonderful. Abilene was going to be in love with her, and he counted for more than Bobby Sheen or any of the boys at the club. The only thing that worried her was that he kept ignoring her. He didn’t even help her find her clothes. But it was such a romantic situation, screwing in a poolhall, that surely being in love would follow. When they got back in the Mercury she tried to make him say something to her.
“What a night,” she said. “I never thought anything like this would happen.”
“Yeah,” Abilene said. They pulled into the Farrow driveway and he glanced at her. She leaned over and kissed him but he turned his face away. Jacy got out, very puzzled, and walked across the yard. When she was halfway across, Abilene raced his motor and made his mufflers roar, so that anyone in the neighborhood who was awake would know what car was in the driveway. Then he backed out and left.
It was not until she stepped in the back door that Jacy realized her mother was home and would have heard the mufflers.
Lois did hear them—she was in the den in her bathrobe and slip, having a light drink and watching a Spencer Tracy movie on the Late Show. When she heard Abilene’s car she got up and went to the kitchen, wondering what he wanted at that time of night. She had not even realized that Jacy was out until they met in the kitchen. Jacy’s hair was tangled and she was barefooted, her slippers in her hand. She looked scared and very confused, and in a moment a couple of tears leaked out of her eyes—she had just realized that Abilene wasn’t going to be in love with her at all. It was a terrible disappointment. She was too upset to keep quiet.
“Oh, he’s awful,” she said. “Why do you fool with him, Mama? Daddy’s a nicer man than him, isn’t he?”
Lois could only shake her head. She sat her glass down and with a Kleenex ruefully wiped Jacy’s wet face. “He sure is, honey,” she said. “Your daddy’s a very nice man. I ought to have given Abilene hell, instead of him.”
At that moment she didn’t feel capable of giving anyone hell, or anything else, either. What Abilene had done hit hard, and her legs felt weak. She freshened her drink and went back to the den to sit down, but the movie was just a blur. For a minute she felt like crying, but she felt too insignificant to cry, too valueless. When she went back in to get another drink, Jacy was sitting morosely at the cabinet reading an article on lipsticks in an old fashion magazine.
“Go to bed, honey,” Lois said. “Or come and watch television with me. Brooding’s no good.”
Jacy didn’t feel like going to bed, so she obediently followed her mother into the den and they looked at Spencer Tracy for a while. In a few minutes Jacy began to cry again. She was sitting on the floor and she moved back against Lois’ legs and put her face in her mother’s lap. Lois stroked her hair.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Jacy said, looking up. “What do you do about it, Mama? Life just isn’t the way it’s supposed to be at all.”
“You’re right,” Lois said, smoothing back the hair on her daughter’s temples. “It isn’t the way it’s supposed to be at all, but what I’ve done about it hasn’t worked very well. Maybe we better work out something different for you.”
Twenty-One
HER DISAPPOINTMENT WITH ABILENE LEFT JACY VERY depressed. It was only the middle of July and she couldn’t leave for college for six weeks, but she just couldn’t stand the idea of staying in Thalia that much longer. She had slept with two of the most interesting men in the whole area, and neither one of them had fallen in love with her or even shown any particular interest in sleeping with her again. Screwing in the poolhall had been wild while it lasted, but it was hardly going to keep her from rotting with boredom for the rest of the summer. It would have helped if she could have told somebody about it—if the story got out that she had slept with Abilene on a snooker table she would have been a legend in Thalia forever, but she couldn’t think of any way to publicize it. Neither Abilene nor her mother were going to, that was for sure, so the whole thing was just wasted. It was disgusting.
The more she thought about matters the more annoyed she was at Duane for leaving town so soon. Things would not have looked quite so dull if he had stayed around. She was not about to start up again with Lester.
One morning while she and Lois were eating a listless breakfast, Jacy gave vent to her irritation.
“I’ll be so glad to get to Dallas,” she said, “I don’t see how people keep livin’ in this town. There’s not one thing to do.”
“Well, there is one thing to do,” Lois said, chewing a section of orange. “The problem is finding a man to do it with who isn’t either dull or obnoxious. Right now I guess Ruth Popper’s got about as good a setup as anybody.”
Jacy was amazed. “Ruth Popper,” she said. “You mean you would like to do that with the coach, Mama? Why I think he’s the most horrible man around here. He’s even worse than Abilene.”
“I didn’t say anything about him,” Lois said spitting the orange seeds into her hand. “I wouldn’t let that tub of guts come within fifteen feet of me. Ruth’s been sleeping with Sonny Crawford for about six months now, didn’t you know? I don’t know Sonny very well but he’s reasonably good looking and he’s young. If I didn’t have anything better than Herman Popper, Sonny would look awfully good.”
“What?” Jacy said. “Are you kidding me? Sonny sleeping with Mrs. Popper? Why that’s the silliest thing I ever heard of. She’s forty years old.”
“So am I honey,” Lois said. “It’s kind of an itchy age. You want the rest of this orange?”
Jacy was just flabbergasted—life was crazy. She didn’t want the orange, and she didn’t like the idea of Sonny sleeping with Mrs. Popper. That wouldn’t do at all. She had always considered Mrs. Popper mousy, and besides Sonny had always wanted to go with her, not with someone forty years old. It was unflattering of him to sleep with Mrs. Popper.
It did end her boredom, though. She decided then and there that she would stop that romance and stop it good. She would go with Sonny for the rest of the summer, and he would never give Mrs. Popper another thought. He was reasonably good looking, like her mother said, and going with him wouldn’t be too unpleasant. It would make August pass a lot quicker. Necking with him might even be fun, but she made up her mind right away that she wasn’t going to let him screw her. She had had quite enough of that for one summer—it didn’t really work out. She was nostalgic for the days when boys necked with her and wanted her desperately and didn’t get her. That was better than actually screwing, someho
w. When she got to college she could start screwing again and there it would probably be altogether great. Fraternity boys were gentlemen and would fall right in love with her when she let them screw her.
That very evening Jacy called Sonny and told him she was bored and lonesome; why didn’t they go to Wichita and eat Mexican food? Sonny was eager, and the very thought of someone eager perked Jacy up. She took a long bath, shaved her legs and armpits, perfumed herself, and did her hair in an Italian way that made it look casually disarrayed. She wore a sleeveless dress and a sexy bra that left the tops of her breasts uncovered.
When Sonny went to pick her up he was not sure exactly what might happen. Jacy was relaxed and at ease and chattered away about one thing and another. They left Sonny’s pickup in the Farrows’ driveway and went in the convertible. One of Jacy’s arms was stretched out on the top of the seat, almost touching Sonny’s shoulder. Before they got to Wichita she scooted over next to him, close enough that he could smell her perfume. The wind whipped a few strands of her hair against his neck. On the way back, after the meal, she rested her arm lightly against his shoulder.
Sonny was in a quandary. He didn’t know if he was still honor-bound to treat Jacy as Duane’s girl, or if he could treat her as if she were free. Duane might decide to come back any time, but of course there was no guarantee that Jacy would go with him if he did. It was confusing, and having her so close to him made Sonny feel a little bit disloyal.
“Let’s go to the lake,” Jacy suggested, when they were back in Thalia. “I haven’t been there in a long time.”
It was exactly what Sonny wanted to do, but as he drove there his uneasiness increased. The thought of Ruth popped into his mind—they had seen each other that very afternoon, and had had an ardent, sweaty, good time. It was more sweaty than was usual because the Poppers’ air conditioner had broken down and the coach had gone off fishing without fixing it. After their lovemaking Ruth and he had showered together, to cool off. He had stood behind her and watched the streams of water sluice off her shoulders, her back, her small hips. Driving to the lake, it occurred to him that in a way he was bound to Ruth, but with Jacy sitting close beside him, light-voiced, her hair fragrant, her arm cool, it was hard to keep Ruth in mind. He had wanted Jacy for years, and had fantasized just the sort of situation he was approaching. The lake was very still, but the crickets were singing and bullfrogs croaked loudly in the south channel, where the water was shallow.
For a moment, after stopping, Sonny sat still. Any move would put Jacy in his arms and involve him in two disloyalties, but Jacy was very close to him, so close that he could hear her breath, and soon he was unable to think about anything but her. When he turned, Jacy closed her eyes and they kissed for a long time. She was delighted. It was thrilling to bestow oneself upon someone young and worshipful. It made her feel like a generous, experienced, worldly woman, and feeling that way did something for her that Abilene and Bobby couldn’t do. It was the way life was supposed to be, and because it was so nice she rewarded Sonny with all the little amorous flourishes she could think of, nibbling his lower lip and now and then slipping her tongue into his mouth. She could not really believe all those stories about Mrs. Popper—he seemed too hesitant and inexperienced. She would be the one to teach him about love and passion. That thought excited her even more, and when his hand touched her bare throat she sat back and with a wanton shrug undid the front of her dress. She rested her head against the back of the seat and smiled at him when he lifted her breasts out of the shallow cups of the bra. To Sonny it seemed a little incredible that he was holding those particular soft breasts in his hands at last. He held them and fondled them for quite some time, and not only that night but almost every night for the following two weeks. Jacy’s breasts were his, her mouth was his, indeed almost all of her was his. She shivered, smiled, kissed his fingers, nibbled at his throat, even let him touch her panties on occasion, but when he grew bold and began to want to go all the way, she diverted him with her mouth or her breasts and told him it wouldn’t do.
“Not here,” she said huskily. “I’m too old for screwing in cars. I like beds.”
Sonny was surprised at her language, but encouraged. He suggested they go to Wichita and get a motel room, but Jacy quickly thought her way out of that.
“I would, but I’m afraid to right now,” she said. “I think my folks are watchin’ us. They know I don’t want to go to college and they think we’re goin’ to run off and get married.” Sonny was surprised, but not entirely persuaded and Jacy nuzzled at his ear. “We’ll do it when it’s safe,” she said. “I don’t like to be in a hurry.”
Until that night it had never occurred to Sonny that he could marry Jacy, but the idea was not long in taking hold of him. He began to think about it practically all the time.
Nothing at all was said about Ruth. Jacy never let on that she knew anything about him and Ruth, and Sonny didn’t mention it. After the first date with Jacy he did not once go back to Ruth’s. He could not have faced her. At times he missed her, and he often missed making love to her, but he did not go back. Sometimes in the middle of the night he would wake up and feel nervous and ashamed. Late at night he could not help facing the fact that he had treated Ruth shamefully and probably hurt her very much. He didn’t understand it, but he knew Ruth loved him. It was unreasonable, but she did; she had put herself at his disposal, and he had left her. It wasn’t right and it made him feel terrible, but at the same time he knew he wasn’t going to quit going with Jacy. He was being unfair to Ruth, but what he felt for Jacy was beyond fairness. He had a chance to have something he had always wanted, and he wasn’t going to pass the chance up.
He and Ruth would soon have had to quit anyway, he told himself. She was old. Her brown hair was not free of gray. Seeing Jacy at close range had made him realize how old Ruth really was. Ruth’s thighs were a little thin, and when she sat up her breasts sagged, not much but some, enough to notice. It didn’t make much difference, and yet it did. Jacy’s body was fresher and smoother, and it even smelled a little better.
All the same, he hated being the cause of Ruth’s suffering. The only way he knew how to handle it was just not to go near her, or to say anything to her, or to try to justify what he had done.
To Ruth, his absence spoke very clearly. She knew at once what it meant. Three days after he quit coming a neighbor of hers named Fanny Franklin mentioned that she had seen Sonny with Jacy Farrow. “They better get that girl off to school before she marries one of these roughnecks,” Fanny said happily. She knew all about Ruth and Sonny, though she had never mentioned it, and it gave her a good bit of satisfaction to break such news to Ruth.
For a day or two Ruth spent much of her time sitting listlessly in front of the television set, not crying, just sitting. She didn’t despair. Sonny had always wanted the Farrow girl—it was natural he would go with her if he got the chance. Still, she thought he might continue to come and see her once in a while, if only for sex. Even if he only did that it would be okay. She just needed to be with him a little while, from time to time.
When he had not come for two weeks, Ruth was forced to conclude that sex with her did not mean that much to him, and then she did despair. She knew he would never come, not ever again. If she saw him at all it would be on the street, and he would do his best to avoid her. She looked in the mirror often, and it told her more plainly than ever that she was old. She hated being old and despised Jacy Farrow for being young. Before long she began to despise Sonny too. The afternoons were long and hot and unrelieved and she would have forgiven him in a minute if he had come through the door. She could not do anything in the afternoons for wondering if he would come, and she could barely handle her disappointment when he didn’t. At first she didn’t cry, but later she cried a great deal and it only made her look older and uglier.
All the neighborhood women began to come to see her, friendly and smug, but she herself scarcely ever went out—she only went to the grocery s
tore. At times she felt dizzy and almost feverish. She discovered that she missed Sonny sexually, as well as in other ways. From time to time she tried playing with herself, but it didn’t work very well. One night in a moment of bitterness she grasped Herman and tried to get him to play with her, but he jerked himself angrily away and she didn’t try again. If Sonny was not coming back, there was no point in her wanting sex anymore. It was a door she might just as well close.
The nadir came one day in the grocery store, when she bumped into Jacy. Ruth was in an old dress, her hair was dry, and she had not bothered to put on makeup. Jacy was in shorts, tight at the thighs. Her legs were tanned and her hair shone. They passed one another in front of the pork and beans. Jacy had on sunglasses, but she took them off when she met Ruth.
“Why hello, Mrs. Popper,” she said, grinning with delight. “Haven’t seen you in the longest time. I thought you must have left town for the summer.”
When Ruth got home she began to tremble. She carried the blue quilt across the hot yard and stuffed it in the garbage can. She could think of no reason why anyone should desire her or want to know her or touch her, and she did not expect to touch or make love to anyone she cared about as long as she lived. It was a terrible feeling, knowing she would never really touch anyone again. She lay on the bed all afternoon staring dully at the wallpaper and wishing there were some simple way to die. She tried to remember herself when she was young, tried to recall one time in her life when she had been as attractive as Jacy, but she couldn’t think of one. It seemed to her she had always been old. There was no relief in blaming Sonny, because what was there to blame him for? Jacy was exactly the type of girl with whom boys were supposed to fall in love. She herself was just the football coach’s wife.
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