Nether Regions

by Nat Burns

  “Yeah. Must be strange. Are you handling it okay? What about Louie? Are you finally gonna cut the rat bastard loose?”

  Delora laughed helplessly. “Rat bastard. That’s a new one. I guess so, Bucky. I’m just in wait-and-see mode. Nothing’s really happened yet…”

  “You’re kidding! It’s been a while.”

  Delora sighed. “I know. I just can’t seem to get there. Afraid, I guess. When she kisses me, though…well, it’s pretty powerful stuff.”

  “That’s probably what scares you. How good it is.”

  “True. It sure is good.” Louie’s heavy step sounded from the kitchen adjacent the porch and Delora started guiltily. “Gotta go, Louie’s coming. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “What are you doing?” Louie said just on the other side of the screen door. His head was cocked to one side and Delora knew he was using his keen sense of hearing to find out who she was talking with.

  “Just Nita May, Louie,” Delora responded, her voice sullen.

  “Umm hmm. I bet it’s that damn Hinchey Barlowe again.”

  Delora moved the broom with such furious intensity that her taped finger smarted. “Get on with you, Louie. I’m busy.”

  He stood listening to her for a long time, long enough to make the hair on the back of her sweaty neck crawl. Finally he moved inside and Delora breathed a sigh of relief.

  Chapter Forty

  “I’ve been dreaming about leaving Redstar,” Hinchey told Delora Wednesday morning.

  Blossom’s was quiet that morning. Johnny Pellen was there, sullen over coffee and eggs as there was no one to talk to, save Hinchey, and he was at the other end of the counter with Delora.

  Hinchey seemed morose as well, lingering over coffee and a half-eaten bear claw pastry.

  “Aren’t you going to be late for work, Hinchey?” Delora asked. She was filling sugar dispensers in a dreamy mood. Righteous’s condition had stabilized and she was thinking about Sophie, about the way her skin looked in the dappled sunlight of the bayou.

  “Don’t you want to know what the dream was like?”

  “Sure. What was it like? Where did you go?”

  “Over to Texas. It was different from here. There was lots of open land and almost no trees. I dreamed I was on horseback and you know what?”

  She looked up with a questioning glance.

  “You were with me. Right there on a horse beside me.”

  “Oh really.” She screwed three caps on, one right after another. “And what were we doing there in Texas?”

  “Nothing. Just being together. You and me. We just packed up and took off.”

  “And what was Louie doing during this little jaunt of ours? What was your mama saying about it?”

  “I swear, Delora. There is no romance in your soul.” He shook his head and gulped his tepid coffee.

  Delora, stung by the remark, moved to refresh his coffee. “My romance deals with reality, Hinchey, that’s all. It’s a nice fantasy to think about running off somewhere, but you and me both know it ain’t gonna happen.”

  “It could, Delora. If you and me was brave enough. There’s nothing we couldn’t do together.”

  Delora fell silent and let her mind play with the idea. It didn’t have to be Texas. It could be over in Florida, over on the coast. She could forget about Louie, about Rosalie, but not about Sophie and Clary. She’d miss them. Her mind relived Sophie’s hot hands on her skin and she knew she’d never leave her.

  “My life is here, Hinchey. I know…”

  The harsh jangle of the phone silenced her, and she walked around the corner to answer it. Tommy Jay watched her in silence, his eyes sad and his mouth working a stalk of celery, probably filched from an impromptu bloody Mary he’d mixed in the back. Delora ignored him.

  “Delora, Phyllis got sick again, and I need to go be with her. I’m gonna leave Louie off at the park and you need to pick him up.”

  “Who? Your sister?” She hated the staccato way Rosalie talked to her. She always sounded like a dog barking.

  “Yes, how many Phyllis’s do you know, Delora?” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “She’s sick so you have to fetch Louie home.”

  “When?”

  “Just after the lunch rush. What’s that? About one, two?”

  “More like two.”

  “He’ll be fine till then. I’m sending him with a packed lunch and plenty of sweet tea. Make sure you fetch his lunch pail and bring it back home with y’all.”

  “Okay, but I may be…” The phone clicked in her ear; Rosalie had hung up.

  “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?” Hinchey stood nearby but on the other side of the counter.

  “I finally got my car in to Jerry to have the muffler worked on, and I gotta pick Louie up at two today.

  “Well, where’s it at?”

  “Over at Jerry’s.”

  Tommy Jay was still staring, and she had an overwhelming urge to stick out her tongue at him. She didn’t but had to turn and face Hinchey to avoid bad behavior.

  “Hell, girl, that could take all day. You need a ride to the garage anyway. I’ll come by and take you over. If it’s not ready, I’ll take you to pick him up.”

  “Not a good idea, Hinchey. You know how he gets.”

  “I ain’t afraid of Louie, never have been. I got the whole day off except for delivering a truck over to the Shermans, something I was supposed to do yesterday. I’d be happy to drop back by here after.”

  Delora thought it over. It was a nice gesture, but she’d have hell to pay later with Louie’s mouth spouting on about it. She started to tell him no but realized suddenly that Louie’s wrath would be worse if he was kept waiting until five o’clock. Reluctantly she agreed and thanked him. He left with a smile and she moved to clear away his dishes.

  The afternoon moved slow and Delora was glad to see Hinchey’s car pull up outside. Marina had come in for the expected lunch rush, but it had proved nonexistent and she was glad to leave the boredom of the diner.

  Worried because Hinchey was later than expected, she waved goodbye to Marina and slid onto the seat next to Hinchey. She was glad to see he’d brought the bigger car—a sedan. He obviously realized that Louie might have trouble climbing into the truck.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late. The man didn’t pick me up when he said after I dropped that truck off.”

  “That’s okay, Hinchey. Louie’s just gonna have to understand people can’t always jump when he says jump.”

  Hinchey was watching Delora. His gaze felt like strangler fig.

  “What?” she said. “Say what’s on your mind, Hinchey.”

  “Nothin’, just wondering how life woulda been different if we’d gotten together in high school. You wouldn’t have had to go through what happened. It woulda been nice.”

  Delora combed her hair with her fingers, a fast, nervous gesture. “Yeah. Water under the bridge, Hinchey.” She sighed. “I’ve kinda stopped thinking that way. I just try to look forward and get on with it. Know what I mean?”

  “I do.” He nodded.

  They approached Manahassanaugh Park. Louie was waiting for them, pacing angrily back and forth in front of the concrete bathrooms. He lumbered along, pivoting on his cane. There was no goodwill in his scarred face.

  “Uh-oh,” Delora muttered as she hurried from the car.

  “Delora!” Louie said as she approached.

  “Yes, Louie. It’s me. Come on and let’s get you home.” She tried to offer her arm.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” His voice rumbled like faraway thunder. “It’s like an oven out here.”

  Delora cringed. “I was working, Louie. Come on now.”

  Hinchey approached. “It’s my fault, Lou. I was held up delivering a truck over in Goshen.”

  Louie’s head tilted when he heard Hinchey’s voice. “Oh ho, so that’s the way of it. You sorry dog. I shoulda known you’d be hittin’ that thing if you got a chance.”

  “No, Lou, you got it all
wrong. I just gave Delora a ride. Her car’s over at Jerry’s. That’s all.”

  Louie leaned his head back and jutted his chin at Hinchey. “She’s damaged goods, you know. Burned.”

  “Yeah, I know, Louie. Maybe we should…”

  Louie crowed, victorious. “You know? Fuck, you know. Rose says you can’t see nothin’ outside her clothes, so just how is it ‘you know’?”

  “Louie, you are getting on my last nerve. Here this man is, doin’ you a favor and you act all stupid to him. You know that ain’t right.”

  Louie’s head tilted toward Delora. “You know better than to sass me, woman. Don’t get me riled.”

  Delora sighed loudly and offered her arm by touching his so he’d know where to hold. “Let’s go home, Louie, get you some cold tea and some dinner. I’m sorry we were late, but it happens sometimes.”

  Louie took her arm and squeezed it.

  Delora grimaced and fell to her knees.

  “Whoa, hold up now, Lou. Delora ain’t done nothing, I told you it was my fault.” Hinchey took one step closer, arm extended helplessly.

  Louie took advantage of Delora’s lowered position and twisted her arm up and behind her, mercilessly. She gasped in pain even as anger swelled in her.

  “Don’t worry, Hinchey,” she spat out. “He can’t help himself. Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

  Louie, as easy as breathing, lifted one booted foot and slammed it into Delora’s flank. She flew to one side, landing on the soft grass outside the concrete flooring.

  “No!” Hinchey roared as he charged Louie. Delora raised up in time to see Hinchey tackle Louie in a takedown as pretty as his high school football heyday. Louie’s breath expelled in a loud whoosh as Hinchey’s smaller body hit him dead center. Both men went down in a heap of flying limbs.

  Delora saw then that Louie wasn’t moving. Hinchey realized it too and lifted himself. Both understood in that instant that Louie’s head had slammed into the heavy concrete and iron waste bin that the city had installed next to the bathrooms.

  “Lou?” Hinchey queried.

  Delora scrambled to her feet and made her way painfully across the concrete. “Louie? You okay?”

  There was an eerie silence as Delora and Hinchey both unconsciously held their breath. There was no movement from Louie’s twisted form. His back was not rising and falling.

  “He’s just winded,” Hinchey said finally, his voice quavering. “Come on, Lou.” He nudged him with his foot. His body rocked but did not move.

  It was then Delora noticed the unnatural angle of his head. The harsh smell of urine rose to their nostrils as his bladder released.

  “No,” Delora said, horror washing across her. “Hinchey, I think he’s dead.”

  She moved to touch his neck along the side, searching for a pulse. There was none and she could see one open eye staring toward the sky. She backed away.

  “Delora, he’s okay, right?”

  Delora shook her head from side to side. “No. He’s not all right. He must have died right away.”

  Hinchey crossed his arms across his chest, a protective gesture. One low wail escaped him.

  Chapter Forty-One

  They stared at the body in silence. Delora’s thoughts turned slow but came out in a rush. Who had seen? She glanced about, first wildly, then more furtively as she saw no one. She stood still, mouth agape.

  “Delora? Lora? You with me?” Hinchey moved closer and took her arm in a firm grasp. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I swear. It just...just...happened. I don’t know how.”

  “I...I know, Hinchey. I know. Wait just a minute and let me see what to do now.”

  What did someone do in a situation like this? Did one call the police as advised in every movie she’d seen or…?

  Louie lay motionless, his body twisted abnormally. Blood was pooling about the one ear pressed into the tan concrete. Oddly enough, she felt no sorrow at his death, no pity for the blow he’d suffered. A great well of release swelled low in her belly and an unbidden sigh brought the relief into being. Horrified at her reaction, she whirled away from the body and strode purposefully toward Hinchey’s car. Hinchey ran after her.

  “Lora? Lora? What are you gonna do? I swear I didn’t mean it.”

  Reaching the car, Delora clambered into the driver’s seat and sat very still, the only movement the muscles in her jaw as she gnawed the skin around her thumbnail. Hinchey slid into the passenger seat and waited, his breathing harsh and fast. They watched Louie’s body through the windshield.

  “I guess I’d better turn myself in,” he said finally, hanging his head in shame and sorrow.

  She thought a good while before speaking. Life at its simplest is a series of images. She would never forget Hinchey’s stunned face; the image of him standing there watching Louie’s prone body had been burned into her memory forever.

  “I guess you could, Hinchey, but what would be the use? Louie would still be dead and then your life’d be ruined too. Louie brought this on himself by never acting right and kind.” She was studying the scene with intense interest.

  Hinchey wrapped his arms about his waist, a self-comforting hug. He rocked back and forth, keening softly under his breath. “But someone’s gotta pay. I killed him dead, Delora. Plain and simple. The law’s gotta know.”

  Delora sat a little straighter and took her hands from her mouth. She twisted the key and the big car purred to life. She backed it out like a crazy woman, spinning and spewing gravel onto the grass. The car swerved and heaved into alignment and then she pressed the gas hard, leaping forward onto the asphalt of Appletree Road. Once there she jerked the car into park and turned to Hinchey.

  “I’m going to be a gambling woman today, Hinchey.” She took her eyes from his mystified face and studied the road in both directions. “I’m gambling that you can pull this off. We found him like that, you hear me. It looks like he fell and hit his head and that’s what we’ll let nature tell the authorities. You and me just found him that way when we come to pick him up. That’s all. Can you make it this way? In your mind, I mean?”

  Hinchey thought a moment, forehead wrinkled as if in pain. “Yeah, I guess I can, but...”

  “And I’m gambling that there was no one else there in the park today. That by the time the law gets involved there won’t be any evidence of the fight and that the people who know me, know Louie, will find no loss in his passing.”

  She paused and took a deep breath. “It’s a chance, I know, but I also know there’s nothing fair in you going to jail for helping put an old, mean-spirited dog out of his misery.”

  Hinchey sighed and stared at the countryside rolling away on the other side of the boundary fence. Delora got out of the car.

  “Now, get over here and drive out to the road where you can get a signal. You just call an ambulance and tell them Louie November is hurt at Manahassanaugh Park. Just call an ambulance, no one else. Hear me?”

  Hinchey slid across until he sat behind the wheel, his eyes, almost hopeful, met Delora’s steady gaze. “I’m sorry, Lora. I never meant to cause you any grief.”

  “Then do this one thing right.” She leaned in and pressed one palm to his cheek. “You know, no one has ever stood up for me before. That’s special and I’ll never forget it. No matter what happens with this, I’ll always know you did that for me.”

  Hinchey felt his heart constrict with love for this woman but realized with keen loss that there would never be anything more. Within seconds, he had accepted this fact and resigned himself to it.

  Delora patted the side of the car. “Go on then, and hurry. Say he’s hurt and they need to come quick.”

  After Hinchey spun away, Delora walked back to Louie. She studied the angle of the waste can and Louie’s head and decided that yes, it could have happened that way. He could have been walking along, lost his balance, fallen. Using the toe of her sneaker, she nudged his cane into a more believable position, then fell to her knees beside the body. Bracing he
rself, she turned him over fully, shuddering as his half-bloodied face turned to the sky. His burned eyes, now relaxed in death, didn’t seem so mocking and she was glad for that. If his gaze had continued to mock her even after death, she would have had them carry her away in a straitjacket. Thoughts filled her head then. It was a type of wake, a remembrance of her life with Louie. She saw no joy there and felt only sorrow for two wasted lives. By the time the ambulance lumbered in with flashing red and yellow lights, tears were bathing her cheeks. Tears not for the loss of Louie, but for the loss of her youth.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Rosalie was still with her sister so the house was unusually silent when Delora entered later that evening. Nevertheless, she moved quickly. In her bedroom, she gathered everything she owned into a pile in the middle of the bed then into two huge garbage bags she fetched from underneath the kitchen sink. Everything fit nicely into the two bags—her whole life. She left the cooler in the bottom of the closet. She left the vodka too.

  There was no sadness in leaving this house. She’d had few good times here. Now that her duty—no, bondage—to Louie was through, there was nothing to hold her here. Dropping her bags beside the front door, she moved back through the long dark hallway and into the sunlit kitchen. It looked so normal, for goodness’ sake, as if Louie wasn’t dead and Delora leaving and Rosalie alone again. It would see breakfast again, dinner tonight. Delora shuddered and moved to the laundry room door. It took mere minutes for her to shift the moveable panel of plywood and see the huge jars filled with money on shelves behind it.

  Conscience stayed her hand. This was stealing, pure and simple. Obviously, this money was important to Rosalie or she wouldn’t be hoarding it.

  Then Delora thought of working three jobs, of turning over Louie’s disability check every month. I’ve earned this, she thought harshly. Shutting down her nagging conscience, she hefted one of the gallon-plus-sized pickle jars, then lifted a second. Fetching two more garbage bags from under the sink, she carefully placed a jar in each. Dragging one in each hand, she moved through the eerily silent house and out the front door. Hinchey sat behind the wheel of the idling car as she’d asked. She didn’t want him seeing this. For some odd reason, she knew it would embarrass her if he saw how she and Louie had lived. She put the jars in the open trunk and turned back to the house.