by Sarah Willis
Nothing is left uneaten.
“Someone needs to go to the grocery store,” Will says, looking around the table as if casting his next lead.
“I’ll go,” Frank Tucker says. “I’d like to get the newspaper.”
“In that case, I’m going too,” Jimmy McGovern says. “Someone will need to get real food.”
“Like more baked beans, McGovern?” Frank says. “Please spare us.”
“Hey, Tucker, eat this,” Jimmy says, giving him the finger.
“I’ll come too,” Lars says quickly. “You two will need a referee.” This is followed by suggestions for a number of different food items. Beer is mentioned several times. Everything gets written down on a napkin.
“And what will we be using for cash?” Frank asks.
Silence.
“There may be a check in the mail today,” Will says. “It should be here by now. I’ll go look.”
Beth jumps up. “No, Dad, I’ll go.” She takes off running down the lane. When she comes back, she’s holding a small brown box.
“No check, Dad. Just my brush Deb mailed me.” She runs into the house.
“I’ll get the tab on this one, Will. But you’ll owe me,” Frank says, wagging his finger at Will.
“Thank you, Frank,” Will says, not very graciously.
Lars, Jimmy, and Frank make their exit and drive off.
In the bathroom, Beth opens the brown box and finds her brush, underwear, and a box of Jujubes. Carefully she pours the contents of the Jujubes box onto a white towel that she has laid on the floor. Eating one green Jujube, she puts the rest back into the box, leaving the yellow Valium just as they fell. She counts them. Ten. She almost picks one up to place in her mouth; she can feel the pull of the White Rabbit calling her. No. These are for a purpose. She has to make some decisions.
Can she do this? Should she? She’s suddenly glad that Deb didn’t get the acid. She would never really have the nerve to spike her mom’s drink with acid. It’s kind of scary, what she’s just thinking about doing with the Valium. She’s all tingly and nervous, and her heart is beating fast. It’s exciting, and kind of powerful. And this way she can get back at her mom for doing whatever she’s doing with Ben Walton, and get Greg Henry a little loose … And really, Valium’s just going to make them tired or silly. No one’s going to really know it was her.
Okay, she’s convinced herself. Now to get on with it. Beth sets three pills aside and labels them “Mom” in her head.
Next, Beth wants to get Greg Henry relaxed enough to go into the woods with her. She puts two aside for him. Finally, she needs to knock Norton out. Norton’s so stuck on playing nurse, she won’t be able to get Greg into the woods alone without getting rid of Norton. Four go in his pile. Which leaves one. She picks it up, sticks it into her mouth, and drinks it down with some water from the faucet. She really needs to calm her nerves. She’s pretty shaky right now.
Now, how to get the pills into these people? And when? Her dad’s given everyone the rest of the afternoon off. It’ll have to be now. She’d never dare to do this during a rehearsal.
Greg will be easy. He’s been taking pills for days now. She can just hand them to him and say “Here,” and he’ll down them. Norton will be trickier. Especially since there’s no food in the house to slip them into. She will have to grind them up and pour them into his drink. She could do the same for her mother, but her mother doesn’t drink much between meals—except, it seems, when she goes off into the woods. Then Beth remembers seeing an oatmeal raisin cookie on the ground under the picnic table. If Shakes hasn’t eaten it …
Beth sticks the Jujubes into the cupboard and pockets the Valium. As she leaves the bathroom, Nate Johnson’s standing outside, waiting. “Oh, sorry,” she says.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he replies, then slips into the bathroom and closes the door. A moment of panic grips Beth, and she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the yellow pills, counting them. Nine? Oh, right, she took one. Okay. Now she’s ready.
Outside, under the table, there’s no cookie. Not even crumbs. Damn that dog, Beth thinks. Now what? She goes inside the house and opens the fridge. There’s nothing but jars of jelly, some butter, and ketchup.
Mac walks into the kitchen. He’s chewing something.
“What are you eating?” Beth says.
“Taffy,” Mac says, stepping back like she might take it right out of his mouth.
“Where did you find taffy?”
Mac takes another step back. “In the car.”
She should have thought about looking in the car. “Great!”
There are about a dozen pieces in an old plastic bag from God knows when. She takes them out of the bag and sticks them into her other pocket. Her shorts are tight, and it looks like she’s got some funky growth on her hip. Back inside the house, she finds a spoon, a bowl, and some tin foil. Ben walks into the kitchen.
“Hey, Beth, what’s happening?”
Beth holds the stuff behind her back. “Nothing much.” She backs up toward the living room. “Just need to go upstairs,” she says. “Bye.” She walks backward until he’s out of sight, then turns and runs up the stairs. The bathroom door is shut.
“Anyone in there?” Beth says.
“I am.” It’s Nate’s voice. He’s still in there?
“Are you going to take a shower?” Beth says.
“I was considering doing just that,” Nate says through the door. “Any problem?”
“Ahh, no, that’s okay.”
Beth looks at her room. The door’s open and Greg’s not there, but he could come upstairs at any moment to lie down. Norton’s door is closed, but she knows he’s not in there because she just saw him in the backyard setting up two lawn chairs. But he could come back up, too, and how would she explain being in his room? Maybe her parents’ room? The door is shut. She knocks.
“Yes?” It’s Melinda’s voice. Damn.
“Never mind,” Beth says.
“Beth?” Melinda says. “Is that you? Come in. I want to show you something.”
Shit. “Okay.” She has to be nice to Melinda now, because of the camera.
“Hey, Beth,” Melinda says.
Beth stops, the door half open, the doorknob tight in her hand. Melinda’s sitting on the bed, her dress pulled up around her waist. She’s not wearing underwear and her legs are spread partway open. A bush of curly brown pubic hair is right there, between her legs, like an animal taking a nap. In the split-second that Beth looks at the apparition before she lowers her eyes, she’s sure that Melinda has more pubic hair than anyone in the world.
“Come here, Beth,” Melinda says. “Sit down.”
“Ahhh, thanks, but I better go,” Beth says to the carpet.
“No, really, it’s important, and I don’t think your mom’s going to teach you this. They should teach it in junior high, but I don’t think we’ll break that barrier for a while. Sit down.”
Beth inches over to the bed, hoping someone will call her name before she gets there. No such luck. She sits as far away from Melinda as possible, right on her mom’s pillow. Melinda produces a white plastic case and opens it up.
“This is a diaphragm.”
Beth thinks she will die. The only reason she doesn’t is because the Valium must be coming on. Beth sticks her hand into her pocket and pinches a pill between her fingers, thinking, I might need another one. She looks at Melinda but not right at her.
“Oh, yeah?” Beth says, trying to sound casual, like she’s sat on dozens of beds with half-naked ladies showing her diaphragms.
“I was just about to put it in. Let me explain how it works.” Out of a little homemade denim bag, Melinda pulls a white tube. Beth doesn’t look close enough to see what the tube says. She’s trying pretty hard to blur her vision. “You have to spread the spermicide around the edge of the cup, and put some all over the inside. You don’t want to miss any spots. Sperms are tricky little guys. They’re determined to reproduce.”
Melinda squirts the goo into the diaphragm, which is a flesh-colored rubber-cup thing, then uses a finger to rub it all around. Beth knows her mouth is hanging open and shuts it.
“It folds up. See?” Melinda bends the diaphragm, and it kind of snaps closed. “This way you can fit it in, and when you get it in the right place, it opens up and covers your cervix. That’s the thing inside you that feels like the end of your nose. You should feel for it first, so you know where it is.”
Beth must have made some kind of noise, because Melinda stops talking for a second and looks right at Beth and nods. “I know. It sounds pretty strange, but you mustn’t be afraid of your body. There are IUDs and the Pill, but personally I think they’re too invasive. The diaphragm’s not hard to use. It just takes some practice, which is why you should try it before you need it. Condoms break. A condom and a diaphragm are best. I carry condoms too. You can’t count on a guy. Would you like to see how I insert it?”
Beth stands. “No thanks.” She inches back to the door, which is still open. If Nate Johnson comes out of the bathroom and looks in here, Beth will die, Valium or no Valium.
“Well, I wanted to offer, you know. You’re getting to that age. Just keep your mind open, Beth. Don’t make judgments. And remember, you’re responsible for your actions. A baby is a wonderful gift, if you’re ready, but until then, protect yourself.”
“Okay. Thanks, Melinda. Bye. Really, thanks, but I gotta go now. Bye.” Beth steps out of her mom’s room and closes the door. She makes sure it clicks shut. If she had a key, she’d lock it.
The bathroom door is still shut. The shower is running. She has to grind up these pills. She can’t very well do it on the kitchen table. She’ll have to chance Norton’s room. She knocks on his door. No answer. She opens it a crack. The cat dashes out, brushing by Beth’s leg. Beth gasps. Her own house is like the funhouse at the fair. God knows what she’ll find behind the next door. She peeks into Norton’s room. No one. Quickly she closes the door behind her, sitting on the floor with her back against the door. She spreads out the tin foil, puts the four Valiums for Norton in the bowl, and presses against them with the back of the spoon. They crumble into pieces, then into powder. With the spoon she scrapes the yellow powder onto the tin foil, then folds it so she can easily open it. There’s some residue on the bowl, so she wipes it off with her finger and licks her finger clean. It tastes terrible. Beth hopes Norton is drinking something besides water. Vodka would be nice.
On the stairs, Beth hears Ben and her mom talking in the kitchen, which reminds Beth that she forgot to put the Valium in the taffy. She tiptoes down the steps, so she can listen. Her mother says something about the woods. Beth steps on a squeaky step, and the voices stop. The kitchen door opens and shuts. By the time Beth gets to the kitchen, they’re gone.
She puts the bowl and spoon in the sink, then walks out the door and around to the back of the house. Norton and Greg are in the lawn chairs. On a crate between them are two open beer cans. Greg’s eyes are shut.
“Shhh!” Norton says as Beth gets closer. “Greg’s sleeping.”
“Oh, okay,” Beth whispers. “But by mistake I let your cat out of your room when I went to get Mac something. She’s in the living room, I think.”
“Oh,” Norton whispers. “I guess that’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”
“But she might get outside,” Beth says a little more loudly.
Norton frowns at her. “Well, she was all right last night. Came right up to the door and meowed to get back in.”
“Oh, okay,” Beth says with a shrug, then, “You know, the McCrearys’ cat got carried away by an owl just last summer. Mrs. McCreary said she could hear her cat howling from two hundred feet up, until the owl broke its neck.”
Norton gets up out of the lawn chair. “I better get Betsy back in the room. Thank you.” He goes into the house.
Beth looks over at Greg. He’s asleep with his mouth hanging open. She unfolds the tin foil, pouring the powder into Norton’s beer. Some sticks to the foil. She licks it off. Picking up the beer, Beth swivels it around to mix it up. It’s about half full. She takes a small sip to see how it tastes. Awful, like beer.
Looking at Greg, Beth thinks getting him relaxed might not be a problem. Just waking him up might be the difficult part. She’ll save his two Valiums for an emergency.
Now for her mom. Beth goes back into the house to get a sharp knife to split open the taffy, then goes out behind the barn. Voices come from inside—her father, Chip, and Victor Peters—but she can’t make out the words. She sits down on the ground, takes out a piece of pink taffy, carefully peels open the wrapper, sticks the knife in the taffy, takes one Valium out of her pocket and shoves it into the slit, then squeezes it shut. You can hardly tell. She repeats this with two more pieces of taffy, both pink, and lays them down on the ground when she’s done. Then she pulls all the taffy out of her pocket and, finding only one more pink piece, eats it. She doesn’t know how she’s going to get her mom to eat three pieces of pink taffy, but she’ll figure that out later. She’s kind of tired right now. She’ll rest a few minutes, then go find her mother. By then, Norton will be asleep, and she’ll wake Greg Henry. She hopes he has a condom. Maybe she should have asked Melinda for one.
Will asks Chip and Victor for their opinion about his idea of inviting the rest of the actors to come up here for the last two weeks before the season starts, to do theatre games and rehearse some one-acts. Chip says it sounds good. Victor doesn’t. Will’s already imagined it happening and finds it hard to let go of the idea. He decides to ask Myra and get the ball rolling. He heads for the house.
Ben’s in the kitchen.
“Hey, Ben,” Will says. “Where’s Myra?” As soon as he says this, it bothers him. Why would Ben know?
“She said she was going for a walk.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re kidding!” A vein begins to throb in his left temple.
“No. She left maybe ten minutes ago. Everything all right?”
“Yes, yes. Fine.” What the hell. Why even ask Myra, if she’s not going to be around anyway? “I’m going to make some phone calls.”
“Need me for anything, Will?”
“No. I’m fine.” He walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, but before he picks up the phone, he hesitates. He has this speech all worked out, to convince Myra. He needs to say it, have it agreed to. He turns back to Ben. “Where’s Melinda?”
“Upstairs, I think,” Ben says. “You sure you don’t need me for something?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Ben.” He doesn’t want Ben’s view on this one. Some part of Will tells him Ben might disagree. That same part tells him Ben hasn’t been a team player recently, or a good friend. That part of him says all this so quietly, Will can ignore it for now. He scratches his ear where a bug must have bit him and goes upstairs.
Ben gives himself one more chance to back out but fails. He tried. Will doesn’t need him. If Will had said, Yes, help me on something here, Ben, Ben might have stayed in the house. Then again, that too is debatable.
Ben goes out the kitchen door and walks around the front of the house, past the fallen tree and across the lawn, the shortest distance to the woods. It’s not the same direction Myra went, but he knows where she will be, and in the cover of the trees, he follows the curve of the field and heads toward the open woods on the hill. She took a blanket. He carries nothing but doubts overshadowed by desire. With each step he tosses his worries out behind him like pebbles in his pocket until they’re mostly gone. What’s left is a whisper, a Sorry, Will.
Beth opens her eyes. Her nap has taken only a few minutes, but she feels better. As she walks around the side of the barn, ready to find her mom and offer her the taffy, she sees Ben Walton by the edge of the woods. He looks back at the house—obviously to see if anyone has noticed him. Quickly she steps behind the barn, before he sees her. When she peeks around the corner, he’s just disappearing into the woods. As soon as he is out of sig
ht, Beth runs to the house. She’s got a better idea.
Myra tries to sing as she walks through the woods, but her voice breaks. She’s singing from her throat; the rest of her body, lower down, is too nervous to draw a deep breath.
She made love in the woods once before, in a national park, near the top of a mountain, in a flat area that was hidden from fellow hikers by large jutting rocks. It had been warm and sunny, and she believed she was in love. She told him so. He didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. The rest of the camping trip was very awkward. Only one man had told her he loved her. Will. He said it full of drama and meaning. (He was currently playing Romeo, and that may have had something to do with his exquisite presentation.) She had said it back, I love you too. Neither of them said it often after that. He did, though, say I love you more during the time he had his affair than anytime before or since.
At the top of the ridge, Myra finds the place where she first kissed Ben. She spreads out the blanket and sits down, facing the direction he will come from, hoping he will say he loves her, and so afraid that he might.
For days, Norton has hemmed and hawed, back and forth, from fantasy to reality, from impossible to possible, his whole body reaching out, only to be called back in with a mental whoa! firm enough to stop a bolting team of horses. But now, after placing Betsy back in his room and drinking a second beer, Norton gives up his internal battle. So what if he makes a move and gets brushed off? No one will know. Greg Henry is a good person, not one that would be cruel enough to talk about it. It’s the sweet Greg that attracts Norton, the happy-go-lucky smile, the good-natured brown eyes. So if Greg says no thanks, it won’t be the end of the world. Norton will still be an actor, and alone, and Greg Henry will move on and forget him, having brushed off many other men in his day. (Hopefully the boy is not completely indiscriminate.)
