The Damn Fool

by George Eliot

herself.

  "Woo-a-woo-oh."

 

 

  "Wow," Lance said as he gently placed the pad on the table. "You got me."

  "Really?" Toni's eyes were sparkling and her countenance glowed. "Did the ending

  surprise you?" She dried and put away the last dish.

  "I'll say. I have Goosebumps all over me."

  "That's the Noxzema."

  "I don't think so."

  "Did you really like it, Lance? Be honest. What can I do to make it better?"

  "I wouldn't change a word. There's just one thing wrong."

  She frowned as she sat at the table. "Tell me."

  "Now I will be bugging you to let me read all of your stories."

  She laughed. "I'm afraid they're not yet ready for prime time."

  Chapter Four

 

  The next four weeks were the most physically challenging of Lance's life. For

  days, the sunburn tormented him. Following the shade helped, but even the

  morning sunlight set off excruciating pain and the burned skin blistered and

  then began to peel. Toni applied Noxzema every few hours every day, and that,

  plus his determination to avoid a computer nerd label, kept Lance going.

  Lance and Toni developed a daily routine. She woke him every morning and

  prepared breakfast while he dressed. They worked together on the cabin, pausing

  at noon to have lunch at the Danbury diner. Every morning, Toni brought a change

  of clothes and at the end of each workday she showered and changed in the RV.

  After Lance showered and changed, they ate supper together. Sometimes Toni

  cooked, occasionally they drove to Winston-Salem and ate in one of the many

  restaurants, but most often, they ate at the Danbury Diner where Toni enjoyed

  friendly conversation with the other diners and Lance was all but ignored.

  As they worked together, they talked. Lance felt as if he told his complete life

  story a dozen times, but he was certain Toni left gaps in the recounting of her

  personal history.

  It took less than a week to remove the chinking from the cabin. The dried mud

  broke away easily. Sanding off the remains of plaster from the upstairs rooms

  was more difficult. At the end of the first day, Lance felt as if his arms were

  too weak to lift a pencil. The electric sander was not that heavy, but after

  holding it for thirty minutes, its weight seemed to increase dramatically. Even

  Toni complained.

  Buddy and his crew, whom Lance now trusted thoroughly, completed the plumbing,

  rebuilt the front porch, installed a new plastic paste compound between the

  logs, shored up the foundation, installed the made-to-order windows, installed

  new doors, cut a door from the kitchen to the rear deck and refinished the

  downstairs hardwood floors.

  On the third Saturday, Lance declared that God was much smarter than Buddy Mabe

  and pronounced Sundays to be days of much needed rest. There were no complaints

  from the pool hall crew.

  On the first Sunday of freedom, Toni agreed to show Lance his farm. They drove

  over logging roads and through open fields. The amount of land he owned amazed

  Lance, and the unused acreage that once grew towering tobacco plants appalled

  him.

  He was disappointed that Buddy was not at home when they reached the tenant

  house his contractor rented. Lance wanted to see the inside, but respected

  Buddy's privacy too much to enter uninvited. The outside of the house looked

  nice, but old appliances and pieces of cars cluttered the yard. It reminded

  Vance of a junkyard.

  "When are we going to eat that picnic lunch you promised me?" Lance asked as

  they drove away from Buddy's house.

  "We've seen as much of the farm as I can show you from the car," Toni replied.

  "Now we're going to my � your spring. We'll eat there."

  Toni drove back almost to the log cabin before taking a car-width trail cut into

  the woods.

  "This does not look like one of the logging roads," Lance said.

  She laughed. "It isn't. Buddy and I hacked this trail ourselves when we were

  just kids. It leads directly to the spring." Her face glowed as the clearing

  came into view.

  Toni grabbed his hand when they emerged from her car and led him to the bubbling

  water.

  "Isn't it beautiful, Lance?" she said, squeezing his hand a little.

  He returned the pressure as he looked at the moss covered bank surrounding the

  pool of crystal clear water. "There is only one other sight that is more

  beautiful," he conceded.

  She smiled at him and he thought his knees might buckle. "I agree there is one

  sight more beautiful, but I'll bet we are not talking about the same thing.

  Window Falls by lantern light is the one place I find more breathtaking." She

  grinned. "What were you thinking?"

  "You."

  Their eyes locked. His hands moved to her cheeks. His lips brushed hers. Holding

  her close he whispered, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

  "If you must kiss me, get it over with," she said quietly.

  He nibbled at her upper lip, her lower lip and, surprised at the opportunity,

  slipped his tongue gently between her slightly parted lips. His hands traveled

  south.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and did not complain when his hands

  tenderly caressed her hips. She plunged her tongue into his eager mouth and

  moaned as their bodies meshed. Then the tears came and she pulled away.

  She placed her hands on his ears as he pulled her back to him and looked deeply

  into his turquoise eyes. "Please don't let me do things like that, Lance."

  Her body was trembling. "Toni, I don't understand. I'm crazy about you. You have

  to know that."

  She nodded, pulled away and knelt beside the bubbling pool. "I like you too,

  Lance. You have to know that."

  "Then what's the problem?"

  She cupped her hands in the water and sipped the cool liquid as he knelt beside

  her. "We have the same problem my mom and your dad faced. I'm a country girl and

  you're a city boy. It just wouldn't work."

  "You don't know that, Toni. We can make it work."

  "I'm a high school grad and you have a college degree."

  "True, but you write beautifully and I can't string words together in a proper

  sentence, let alone a paragraph. In many respects you are far better educated

  than I am, if that's what's bothering you."

  She dipped her cupped hands again and held them as he sucked the delicious cool

  water into his mouth. "Do you like country music, Lance? Do you like to square

  dance?"

  "If that's all it takes, I'll learn to like country music and I'll learn to

  square dance."

  She looked deeply into his eyes. "You would, wouldn't you?"

  He nodded, his eyes pleading with hers.

  She jumped up, placed her hands on her hips and laughed. "Then we'd really be

  incompatible. I hate country music."

  Toni dashed back to the car, leaving a totally confused and frustrated Lance

  staring after her.

  She returned with the picnic basket. They spread a tablecloth on the moss and

  reclined, eating Toni fried chicken and potato salad and drinking water from the

  spring in the tumblers
Toni supplied.

  Other than to compliment her cooking, Lance did not know what to say. He

  devoured her beauty as well as the chicken in silence.

  They packed away the dishes, but he could stand it no longer. When Toni knelt to

  fold the tablecloth, causing her golf shirt to gape open and reveal a hint of

  her cleavage, he grasped her arms and pulled her erect. He crushed her to his

  chest, forced his tongue into her mouth and let his hands explore her body. He

  used his superior strength to keep her from pulling away. He felt her melt

  against him, yielding to his desire and the eager caresses of the off-limit

  areas of her anatomy.

  He tugged the golf shirt from her cutoff jeans and slowly inched it upwards. She

  raised her arms in submission.

  As the white underside of her breasts appeared she said, "I'm not on the pill,

  but do what you must, Lance."

  He yanked the cloth back down and turned his back to her. "I can't," he muttered

  bitterly.

  She pressed against his back, wrapped her arms around him and placed her right

  hand firmly between his legs. "Yes, you can," she assured him.

  He turned and folded her in his arms. Their cheeks met. "No, I can't," he

  whispered softly. "What I want to do is find a way to make you love me as much

  as I love you."

  He felt her body sag into him. "Don't use that word, Lance."

  "Love?"

  He felt her head nodding against his cheek. "You may love my body, but you don't

  love me." She pushed her pubic bone against his erection. "I'll give you the

  relief you want, but don't pretend you love me."

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length. "I'm not the

  one who is pretending. You want me as much as I want you. You may not love me,

  but you're close � very close. If I just wanted to use you as a sex toy, you'd

  be naked right now, on your back with your legs in the air and me between them.

  That's not what I want."

  The tears came again. "I can't love you, Lance. I � I can't explain."

  "There's someone else?"

  She looked at him, her eyes searching his, and suddenly yanked the tablecloth

  from the ground. "Grab the basket," she said as she dashed towards her car.

  In silence they drove past the log cabin, down the dirt road and turned on the

  rutted driveway that led to her house. With deliberation, she marched to her

  door, Lance following close behind. She went straight to her desk, searched

  through the stack of yellow pads until she found the one she was seeking, and

  tossed it to him.

  Bewildered, he watched her stalk from the room, sat on the dilapidated sofa and

  listened to her sobbing in some other part of the house. He sighed and let his

  eyes fall on the first page of the legal pad.

 

  Rosie

 

  Normally I have a bowl of cereal and coffee for breakfast and a simple

  sandwich for lunch, but I try to eat a balanced meal every night. The

  Macmillan Cafeteria is my favorite spot because the food is good, the

  selection is highly varied and the price is right. I am a little sensitive

  about dining alone. I have found that if I go to dinner early or very late,

  the cafeteria has few customers and, therefore, there are fewer chances of

  embarrassment.

  I am a free lance computer programmer. On this particular day I concentrated

  so hard on a little programming problem that I forgot to eat lunch, so, once

  the hurdle was successfully negotiated, I headed for the cafeteria, although

  it was not yet five o'clock. I loaded my tray with roast beef, mashed

  potatoes with gravy, lima beans, a tossed salad with house dressing, two

  yeast rolls with butter, iced tea, and a huge slab of chocolate pie. I knew

  I should have passed on the potatoes and pie, but I've been fat all my life

  and girls don't exactly beat a path to my door anyway.

  I went to my usual booth at the rear of the dining area and unloaded my

  plates onto the table. A black girl wearing an apron, nametag and a broad

  smile revealing perfect white teeth appeared out of nowhere and took the

  empty tray from my hand.

  "May I get anything for you?" she asked.

  "No thank you," I smiled back as I dug into my pocket for change. I slipped

  two quarters into her expectant hand and slid into the booth. I added salt

  and pepper to everything except the bread, tea and pie. I know I should

  taste the food first, but I never do.

  I cut and ate a piece of the roast beef. It was delicious. As I continued to

  eat, I felt as if someone was staring at me. I glanced around the room.

  There were few diners present, and none of them seemed to have any interest

  in me, but a lone lady sitting at a table perhaps twenty feet away caught my

  attention.

  Her salt and pepper hair led me to believe she was several years older than

  me, but she was fairly attractive. Her body, mostly hidden from me by the

  table, seemed to be slender and not particularly well endowed in the chest

  area. It was the sad expression on her face that held my attention � that

  and the fact that she looked a little like Rosie Jefferson.

  The woman glanced in my direction and I jerked my eyes back to the plate of

  roast beef. I tried to steal another look out of my peripheral vision. She

  was still looking at me with that sad, sad countenance. Was she interested

  in me? A lot of good that would do, and yet there was a warm feeling growing

  inside me. I wanted to hold her in my arms, stroke her hair and assure her

  that everything would be all right. She really did look like Rosie

  Jefferson, but that was impossible. Rosie disappeared from my life twenty

  years ago and three hundred miles away when we were both only fifteen years

  old.

  Not a day has gone by during those twenty years that I have not prayed for

  Rosie's happiness and forgiveness. How can I expect Rosie to forgive me when

  I can't forgive myself?

  As a roly-poly kid wearing thick glasses, I was not popular in high school.

  The kids avoided me and I avoided them. I don't know why I went on that

  school picnic to Hanging Rock State Park. I think my mother may have

  insisted, but I'm not certain of that.

  Anyway, there I was sitting some distance from the closest classmate, eating

  fried chicken and potato salad. When the meal was finished, some of the kids

  headed for the water to swim, fish, or row a boat around the large lake

  while the rest got the equipment out of the chartered bus and went laughing

  and joking to the softball diamond. To my amazement, one of them even

  invited me to join them, but I, of course, declined. Not gifted in the

  athletics department, I did not want to go through the humiliation of being

  the last one chosen for one of the two teams.

  I stayed behind to help the chaperons clean up the mess we all made. I don't

  know why, but Rosie stayed behind also. I knew her, of course. She and I

 
shared classes since grade school, and, although I frequently daydreamed

  about her, we were not really friends. Rosie was not exactly popular, but

  she wasn't an exile like me. Either group of classmates would have welcomed

  her.

  The cleanup process didn't take much time � at least not as much time as I

  would have liked. As the chaperons started walking towards the softball

  field, I knew that Rosie was expecting me to say something to her. I

  remember watching myself toe the earth as she approached. To my great

  relief, she took the initiative.

  "How's it going, Danny?" she asked.

  "Okay, I guess."

  "Have you ever hiked down to Window Falls?"

  "No."

  "The wild flowers along the trail are beautiful and the falls are

  breathtaking," she said as she walked past me.

  I watched for a minute or two as she strolled towards the trail. I realized

  she did not exactly invite me to join her, but I couldn't just stand in the

  picnic area for the next three or four hours. I jogged after her as fast as

  my fat little legs would allow and when I caught up with her I asked, "Mind

  if I join you?"

  She smiled. "I was hoping you would."

  We followed the trail into the woods. She knew the names of all the

  wildflowers we saw and I pretended to be interested. Unfortunately, empty

  bags, candy wrappers and beverage cans littered the trail. I agreed with

  Rosie that it was a shame people were so thoughtless.

  Soon I heard the sound of falling water. "Are we almost there?" I asked.

  "No," she answered. "That's a small fall off to the right that you hear.

  Window Falls is a little further down the trail."

  The trail was so twisting and narrow it seemed like a rabbit path, but we

  never did find any rabbits. What we did find was a clearing featuring huge

  boulders, four of which were propped together in such a fashion as to

  resemble a large window in which a grown man could easily stand. We climbed

  into the window and sat on the ledge. The view on the other side of the

  window was fantastic as water cascaded over the mountain from thirty feet

  above us.

  Rosie's face glowed as she pointed to first one and then another of the

  wildflowers that grew on the sides of the pool into which the water dropped,

  and she told me their names. To be honest, I was a bit uncomfortable. We

  were both quite sweaty and Rosie's tee shirt was now clinging to her

  bra-holstered breasts. I was hoping she would not notice I was aroused.

  Suddenly, two men, pointing handguns at us, appeared from the falls side of

  the window. I turned, looking for escape, but two more men were behind us.

  Whenever I recall this event, I would like to think there were forty men,

  but in reality, there were only four. Neither of us heard them approaching.

  "Don't make a sound," one of the men said menacingly as he walked up to us.

  I was so scared I couldn't have made a sound anyway. He told me to stand up.

  I did. He told me to take off my clothes. Rosie protested. One of the men

  slapped her and told her to be quiet. I took off my clothes as instructed,

  except for my jockey shorts. He wanted those off also. I obeyed, thankful

  that I was no longer aroused. Not wanting Rosie to see my tiny penis, I

  turned my back to her.

  An unarmed man marched me to the falls and made me stand in the cascading

  torrent. He did not tie me but simply told me to put my hands on top of my

  head and not move a muscle or make a sound. He rejoined the group, leaving

  me, the coward of all cowards, standing obediently in my ridiculous

  position.

  When I focused again on the window, one man was going through my pockets,

  removing the little money they contained. He even took my pocketknife. The

  others pulled Rosie to her feet. They crammed something into her mouth.

  She struggled as they dragged her next to the pool and right before my eyes

  they completely stripped Rosie. She was obviously terrified and did not

  resist. I obediently stood there with my hands on my head. She was the first