Whispering, Idaho

by Nancy Canyon

  “Stop it, Gena.”

  “You brought it up.” Gena studied her red polished fingernails. “That’s why you want to move out, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Where’s your cross?”

  “Lost it. I’ll tag along if we can check out Sunstar’s vacant apartment.”

  “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You could use a little fixing up.”

  Alice eased herself off the stool. "Just need to comb my hair,” she said, and shuffled toward the stairs.

  “What happened to your finger?”

  “Butcher knife slipped.”

  “Let’s see.”

  Alice turned back. She stood quietly while Gena removed the rag.

  “Geez! So much blood. I think I’m going to faint.”

  Alice helped her friend onto the stool. “You’d make a lousy nurse,” she said, replacing the rag.

  Gena cradled her head in her hands. “I think you need stitches, Alice. That cut is deep.”

  “I’m okay, really. How about you?”

  “Fine,” she nodded, and then squinted at Alice’s painting.

  “That’s my blood next to the red paint,” Alice said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I use a butcher knife to scrap down my paint pallet. I was handing it to Dad. He was going to take it to work to sharpen. It accidentally slipped from my hand and cut my finger.” Shaking, Alice laughed. “Can you believe it? Sort of like Van Gogh, I guess, only he cut off his ear. Blood everywhere.”

  “Alice, you're scaring me.”

  “Van Gogh went crazy, you know. Maybe I am too,” she said, hearing her voice crack like winter ice. She turned away from her friend to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Spreading blood on the canvas is weird, but not crazy.”

  “It was a really big fight this time,” Alice said, tears streaming down her face. Her mind drifted to his lunging hips. She heard the fox rustling through the brush toward the barbwire fence. “He hurt me really bad this time.”

  Gena grabbed Alice’s good hand. “You’re going to talk to my Mom. We can check out Sunstar’s place another time.”

  “No,” Alice said. She pulled away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Take me to Sunstar’s, but stop at the river first.”

  “You can go to the river anytime. You’d better talk to my mom. She’s good at figuring out family stuff. He shouldn’t be hitting you. That’s dangerous.”

  Alice hurried across the basement to the stairs. “I need the river. If you don’t take me, I'll walk there.”

  “It’s too hot to walk. Come on.”

  The entranceway smelled like Lily of the Valley toilet water and dirty tennis shoes. Barefoot, Christie stood sideways before the hall mirror. Her baggy pink T-shirt hung loosely over white short-shorts. Her hands rested over her extended stomach.

  “What are you doing?” Alice asked.

  “Pretending I'm PG. Wouldn't it be fun?

  Gena nudged Alice's shoulder. “Now that’s crazy.

  “Yeah, and stupid. Who said you could wear my perfume?”

  “I did,” Christie said.

  “Stay out of my room.”

  “You’re selfish and ugly. Look at all that crazy red hair of yours. It’s weird.”

  “Brunettes are a dime a dozen. You’d be fortunate to have hair as unique as mine.”

  Christie made an ugly face. Turning away, Alice hobbled up the stairs to the bathroom. As she bandaged her sliced finger and combed her hair, she eavesdropped on Christie’s babbling.

  “Belle says newborn fingernails look like bug wings.”

  Gena said, “You see the chicks from the Wayward Girls’ Home? They got tons of zits from scarfing up Mars bars all day long. And their ankles are thick as elephant legs. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with a kid at fourteen. Your life would be ruined.”

  “I can’t wait to nurse a baby. Mom says nursing me was the sweetest thing she's ever done. She didn't nurse Alice, you know.”

  Alice rolled her eyes at her reflection and yelled, “Grow up, Christie.”

  “I already am grownup. Way more than you think, Alice.”

  “Right,” Alice mumbled. She grabbed her drawing book from under her mattress and walked down the stairs, catching Christie standing sideways before the mirror again.

  “What’s a Wayward-Girl Home, anyway?”

  “It’s where they hide embarrassing unwed pregnant girls,” Alice said. “Society doesn’t want that kind of thing public. Come on, Gena.”

  “Belle’s parents are happy for her. They'd never send her away.”

  “Just wait.” Alice’s stomach flipped at the thought of sleeping on a cot in a room smelling of sweating, swollen bodies.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “None of your business. If Mom gets back before I do, tell her I'm with Gena.”

  “Ooh! You’re going to the river. I’m telling,” Christie said, wheeling about on her stick-thin legs. She turned and leapt up the stairs two at a time.

  Gena leaned close to Alice. “All she talks about is babies. I feel sorry for you. I’m glad I’m an only child.”

  Alice nodded. As she walked to the door, the sting between her legs reminded her that in just nine months, she too could be carrying around a diaper bag and pushing a stroller. Her stomach rolled over like a log in swift current. “Let’s get out of here.”

  A few minutes later the black Mustang was breezing down South Hill Road. At the bottom of the hill, Gena turned abruptly into the Red Barn Store parking lot and switched off the ignition.

  “Why are we stopping?” Alice asked.

  “I’m hot. I’ll buy us Cokes to take to the beach.” She took out a coin purse and dumped change into her palm. “You want anything else?”

  “No thanks. I’ll wait here.”

  Alice looked up at the peeling mural painted above the entrance: an innocent couple sitting arm in arm, bare legs dangling from the hayloft, forever smiling and sharing an apple. The sun flashed off the snake of silver shopping carts, momentarily blinding Alice. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and saw Rod Sweeney straddling his red motorcycle at the corner of the building.

  Alice dropped her hand and said to Gena, “You stopped because of him, didn’t you? I’ll see you at the river.” She opened the car door to slowly climb out.

  “It’ll only take a minute. You’ll heatstroke out there; besides, Rod always hangs out here,” Gena said, and tugged the “V” of her halter-top a little lower. She looked at Alice and smiled. “It’s a coincidence.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” Alice got her sketchbook and closed the car door. She stepped into the shade a stunted bull pine cast. Her father’s face surfaced from the twisted shadows. Light-headed, she crouched to the ground. “No! Stop!”

  Gena hurried to her side. “Alice?”

  Alice stood, half expecting Gena to drag her across the parking lot to the air conditioned store, but instead, her friend reached out a hand, tucking Alice’s hair behind her ear.

  “Your cheek’s a little pink is all, like you sat in the sun too long. Cheer up. No one will notice.”

  Alice flicked a halfhearted smile. She looked past Gena to Rod, who was grinning and flipping the peace sign. Alice shuddered. There was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. “He’s spotted us,” she said.

  Gena handed Alice some coins. “You buy us Cokes. I’ll say hello to Rod, then we’ll go to the river.”

  “Make it fast or I’m walking.”

  “Fast as a mouse, promise,” Gena said, and dashed off.

  Alice shuffled across the dusty parking lot, her sketchbook tucked beneath her arm. She stopped at the row of shopping carts and watched Gena flirting with Motorcycle Rod.

  “Hey, Alice,” Rod said. “Where’s your sister?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Curious is all. You’re next, ya know.” He kick-started t
he bike. Gena climbed on behind him. “Hang on,” he yelled over the rumbling engine. The two of them roared off in a cloud of dust.

  Alice shaded her eyes from the blazing sun and watched the bike disappear around the corner.

  “I hate him!” Alice stomped through the whirring automatic doors, nearly colliding with the group of pregnant teens gathered around the candy stand.

  “Watch it,” a grossly pregnant girl snapped.

  “Sorry,” Alice said, staring down at her ballooning belly that stretched out a stained, oversized T-shirt.

  The girl pushed her stringy black hair out of her face and snarled, “Take a picture, why don't ya!”

  “Sorry,” Alice said and dropped her eyes to the girl’s swollen ankles. Wheeling about, she hurried down the side aisle, knocking into a hairbrush display, clattering brushes across the floor. Ignoring the mess, she kept going until she’d rounded the corner at the pop cooler. She leaned against its cold surface to catch her breath. Tears welled in her eyes.

  Suddenly, she was eleven again, her mother grabbing her by the arm and yanking her around the corner of the meat case. “Stop staring at those awful girls. I better not ever find you in trouble like that. Do you understand?”

  Alice wiped away the tears on the back of her freckled arm. Snatching two icy bottles from the clanking cooler, she started for the front of the store, remembering Gena’s patient explanation of the facts of life to her a few days after the incident. It was her first real knowledge of how girls got pregnant.

  Heading for the last checkout stand, she avoided the clump of wayward girls. She dropped the coins onto the counter and hurried out into the blinding sun.

  “Alice! Alice!” Gena shouted and waved out the window of her black Mustang.

  Rod straddled his bike next to Gena’s car. He waved at Alice, kick-started the cycle and spun out, spraying dirt and gravel off the back tire as he raced away.

  Coughing, Alice opened the car door and handed Gena the icy bottles to uncap with the church key that she kept on her keychain. Alice climbed into the car and arranged her drawing book across her lap.

  “Jeez, I’ve never felt so free. It was like we were birds or something. You should try it. It would definitely change your life, Alice Sharp. Maybe you’d quite being such a sour-ass all the time.”

  “I’m not a sour-ass,” Alice said, snatching the cold pop from her friend and gulping it down. She lowered the bottle and nodded. “Better take a look in the mirror.”

  Gena turned the rearview mirror to face herself. Laughing, she drew her fingers through her snarled hair. “It was worth every snarl. And I’m never washing this wrist again,” she said, shoving it in Alice’s face. “British Sterling!”

  Alice nodded. “I don't trust him. It’s his eyes, I think. He only opens them halfway.”

  “Unlike you, I trust people. And I have a ton of fun, too.”

  “They’ll all hurt you sooner or later.”

  Gena pulled out of the parking lot and sped off down South Hill Road. “Keep it up and you’ll end up a bitter old maid.”

  “At least I’ll have my self-respect,” Alice said, feeling a trickle of sweat slide between her breasts. She pressed the cold bottle against her stinging cheek. She wished she could do the same for down there.

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a guy. It’s natural.”

  “Seems hard-up to me.”

  Gena laughed. “Thank God I’m not an Ice Queen like you.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  As the black Mustang barreled down River Road, the silence in the car swamped Alice. She squinted out the open window at blurring willows, browning bull pines and dry wheat-colored grass as the car pitched from one pothole to another. To ease the pressure against her backside, she slumped lower in the seat. At last, Gena pulled onto the shoulder and killed the engine.

  “What’s the matter with you? You haven’t spoken a word since we left the store.”

  “I’m the Ice Queen, remember?” Alice grabbed her sketchbook and shuffled from the Mustang.

  Gena came around the car and shoved her wrist under Alice’s nose. “Smell this. Don’t you get it?”

  Alice batted her wrist away. “Stop it. Leave me alone.”

  “British Sterling, Alice Sharp. Come on, congratulate me. It’s more than a date for the celebration now. We’ll be going together in no time.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes at her friend. “What about Sunstar? I thought the two of you were dating.”

  “What about him?” Gena said, pushing past her friend to the river path.

  “You guys seemed to be hitting it off.”

  “Just forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Alice watched Gena descend the path; her toughened heels slipping in and out of leather huaraches, little puffs of dust rising behind each snap of her shoes.

  Alice followed Gena down the path, startling crows into a flapping round of complaints. How could she speak of what her father had done to her? It was too embarrassing to even think about it, let alone talk about it, besides he’d threatened to hurt Stephen if she did. She stepped out of the trail onto the rocky beach just as her friend untied her halter top and dropped it to the rocks.

  “What are you doing?” Alice asked.

  “Going in,” Gena said. “Take off your dress. No one’s around.”

  Alice averted her eyes. “I don’t think so.” She dropped to the ground in a patch of shade.

  “I thought you wanted the river. Don’t tell me you’re going to sketch instead?”

  Alice pulled a half-buried pinecone out of the sand and opened her drawing book. “I don’t feel well. Go without me.”

  Gena slipped off her shorts. “Whatever.”

  Alice looked past her naked friend. Far above Whispering, a jet left a contrail to seep into the blue sky like whitewash into a dry fence. Gena said it only took one time to get pregnant. As the vapor dissipated, her cells could be dividing. Her eyes welled with tears. “Maybe I’ll talk to your mom after all,” she said.

  “Not until we swim, Alice Sharp. Come on. You’re not getting away with this.”

  Gena grabbed Alice’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “Stop it.”

  “Come on, Alice,” Gena laughed, grabbing Alice’s dress and pulling it up around her hips.

  Unable to keep from laughing, Alice pried Gena’s tickling hands from her sundress. “No way am I going skinny dipping. I leave that to the lushes.”

  “Okay, but you’re the loser. Here, I’ll show you how to get in. There’re two ways. Fast and slow.” Gena turned around and dove into the river. After a few seconds she sprang back out of the water in a spray of sparkling crystals. “Alice,” she yelled. “Come in. The water’s great.”

  Alice tested the glacier-chilled river with her right toe and stepped between two algae-covered rocks. As the water chilled her ankles, she imagined a trout resting beneath a dark tangle of willow roots, snatching at what appeared to be dinner, but instead swallowing a lethal barbed hook. Just like the fish, she’d been yanked from the water and was gasping for life-giving air.

  “Chicken,” Gena called, pushing dripping wet hair out of her face. “I dare you to get in.”

  Alice laughed out loud. “Your mascara is smeared. You look like a raccoon.”

  Gena rubbed her eyes; Alice yearned to have her friend’s playfulness. She imagined the chilly water dousing the burn between her legs as a rage lurched from her belly, rushing toward her imaginary father. She wanted to kill him with one of his own razor-sharp butcher knives! She pulled off her clothes and jumped in.

  A cold current streamed around Alice’s shivering body. She held her breath and dunked beneath the surface, opening her eyes and watching her red hair drift downstream. Yellow-green sunbeams broke from above, flickering and undulating, then fading to the river bottom. As she adjusted to the cold, her heartbeat settled down, as did her mind. She continued to watch her swirling red hair until her imagination tur
ned red locks to menstrual blood, then into her father’s blood draining from a lethal stab wound. Desperately, she wished her father were dead. With the vision, Alice’s heart quickened and a muffled whimper escaped her throat. She clutched at sunbeams, her lungs caught fire and she burst through the surface to gulp life-giving air.

  Covered in gooseflesh, she dressed quickly and ran across the beach to where Gena sat. Shivering, she sat down next to her on the hot sand.

  “I can’t believe it,” Gena said. “You were naked. Way to go, Alice.”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” Alice said, resting back, driving the chill from the back of her legs, arms and shoulders. Once she was dry, she could brush away the grit, but she’d never get the attack out of her mind.

  “Your finger’s bleeding.”

  Alice looked at the blood seeping from beneath the loose bandage. She pinched her finger, saying, “I need a bigger bandage to cover my wound.”

  “Maybe you need stitches. I can drive you to the hospital.”

  Alice shook her head. If the doctors found out she’d been raped, they’d ask questions: Why did she let him hurt her? What kind of girl was she anyway? What was her dating history?

  A sound like wood cracking beneath a splitting mall echoed across the rocky beach.

  Alice bolted to sitting. “What’s that?”

  “There, beyond the clump of willows. It’s your boyfriend. I didn’t know he had a dog.” Gena whistled sharply.

  “What’d you do that for? I don’t want him to see me this way.”

  Gena smiled and waved. “He’s too far away. Besides, he’s busy with his dog.”

  Stephen waved and turned back to the river, flinging a stick into the current. Alice pushed a tangle of red hair out of her face, as she watched Zeke go wild, running and barking to retrieve the prize. He found it quickly, gripped it between his teeth, returning it to his master. Stephen bent to pick up the stick and toss it again.

  “Man’s best friend means more competition for us, you know.”

  “Whatever. I’m just glad he’s not coming over.”

  “I don’t get it. He’s your boyfriend.”

  “He wouldn’t want—”

  Gena shrieked, “Far out! Here he comes.”