Thinner Than Thou

by Kit Reed

  Fair’s fair: she whispered back, “So have you.”

  We tiptoed over to a soft place and stood trembling, listening for enemies approaching, tense and excited and crazy with desire to complete the act.

  Her voice was electric in the hush. “Is it OK? Is everything OK?”

  “Yes,” I said at last and we fell down together on blankets in the shelter of the slanting hides.

  My darling showed me everything she had.

  Panting and tremulous, we began.

  Forgive me, she’d brought an entire Black Forest cake.

  13

  Independence Pass is even worse than it looked as Dave’s Saturn chugged up the first incline. They are heading for the highest notch on the arching spine of the Rockies. In Leadville, she could hardly breathe. How is she going to survive at twelve thousand feet? In real life Betz is fearless, but she’s been scared of heights ever since she was a little girl. Gripping the seat as the front end of the car ratchets up another notch, Betz closes her eyes and wishes she knew the words to some prayer, but all that stuff went south before she was ever born. Now I lay me, she thinks, didn’t I read that in some book? What is she supposed to be saying now, what charm or incantation to make herself think somebody up there is taking care of her, should she try “nose job” or “breast reduction,” or “perfect hair?” She is scared shit here and reaching for it, her heart is stretched to the limit but all she can come up with is the Reverend Earl’s patented mantra that Mom mumbles all the time when she thinks they don’t hear. In extremis, Betz hears “thinner than thou” rattling out of her on such a false note that neither of the boys picks up on it.

  Pray yourself thin.

  This sends her into a fit of sober reflection, Mom’s so smart but she prayed and prayed and never lost an ounce, was she doing it wrong or praying for the wrong thing? Mom, she realizes, has had a long, sad life trying to be beautiful, when any fool can see at a dead run that beautiful was nothing she was ever going to be, not even in the pictures when she was a lot thinner and almost as young as Betz. What can Mom hope for now, when her life is over because she is, like, north of forty and therefore officially old? So what is it with you, Mom, isn’t it enough to be smart, which is the best thing about you? Why do you have to suck in your belly every time you see me coming, and perk up like a tenth-grader with that automatic smile that somebody told you smooths out the wrinkles in your face? Interesting, the things you think about when you’re on the side of a steep mountain on a narrow road with. no guardrails and death waiting for you to go over the edge. All this time I’ve spent on my skin, she thinks. My skin and my fucking hair, and Annie, she thinks with a ripple of envy because easy as Betz is in her own slim body, her sister Annie’s hip bones stick out glamorously and she personally can starve herself for a million years and never, ever walk with Annie’s gorgeous, emaciated slouch, look what she’s done to herself because she actually believes that between now and the endgame it really matters how you look.

  The Saturn’s engine is grinding in the background but Betz doesn’t come back to herself until she hears Dave’s voice: “Shit!”

  God, oh God. Just when she thought the car couldn’t ratchet up another degree without upending, it noses to an angle so sharp that gravity presses them back into their seats like astronauts at liftoff. Oh God, she thinks, but it isn’t exactly praying, it’s what you think when you don’t know what else to think.

  Danny isn’t exactly praying either, he is going, “Gooooo, Saturn.”

  “Shut up,” Dave says through teeth tighter than a bear trap. He strains uphill as though he can push the Saturn on to the top through sheer force of will.

  By the time the car makes it up the last rise Betz is sobbing with relief.

  Going down is worse. On the worst curves she can see all the way to the bottom. The car is going faster than it should. Dave is leaning back as sharply as he leaned forward on the upgrade, grimly riding the brake. Somewhere too close to Betz, melting rubber sends up fumes. She wants to die, she’s scared she’s going to die, she’d rather be dead right now, but only for a little while. Mind you, she loves her sister but, oh my. She’s never been up this high. When she peeks through clenched eyes and knotted lashes the drop is stupendous.

  They are up so high that it’s hard to breathe. Before he locked his teeth and stopped talking Dave sounded like he’d just inhaled helium and Danny’s husky voice comes out on one long syllable, thinner than a string: “Wooooooooo.”

  By the time they make it into the valley (valley! They’re at ten thousand feet!) the Saturn is gasping too. Something awful happens underneath and the car grinds to a stop. This doesn’t exactly happen in a place. Instead they are on the road between Independence Pass and Aspen, nothing in sight. They are alone in a woods where the rocks hug the ground like living creatures and heart-shaped aspen leaves turn restlessly in the strong sunlight even though there is no wind. If you were into nature, Betz supposes, this would be the place, but she isn’t, really, she doesn’t want to live on roots and go around in deerskin outfits and bark-soled shoes which, if something doesn’t happen for them, is what they’re going to have to do. At least, she thinks, she’d be doing it with Dave but that’s no good because they haven’t had the scene where he sees her and Annie together and realizes that it’s Betz and not Annie that he loves.

  Dave is doubled over the front end of the Saturn, trying to figure out what’s going on inside while Danny punches numbers into his cell phone. Betz winces when he throws it into the bushes and gives him hers. He tries a few combinations on an inert keypad and when he can’t make it work he starts shaking it like a monkey trying to get a sourball out of a jar. They are stuck in a remote pocket in which cell phones seem to die and even if one of theirs was working, who would they call?

  Dave says, “Try and start the motor.”

  Danny does as told, but nothing happens. “What are we gonna do?”

  When you’re in love with a boy you think he can do anything. Betz says, “Don’t worry, Dave’s fixing it.”

  Dave shakes his head. “I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  “So, what are we gonna do?”

  Dave says the obvious. “Wait.”

  When you have car trouble and you see somebody coming you really don’t care what he looks like. Even a ragged, dreadlocked stranger on a bicycle looks good to you, especially one on a bike with a toolbox strapped to the back. So what if the snakes of blond hair haven’t been washed in so long that they look oiled, and what if his eyes are so big that you can see rings of white all the way around the irises when he stares at you? It could all be Aspen ski bum affectation, and when he assesses the three of you and the car you came in with an odd, knowing grin, you’re so glad to see help has arrived that you silence your warning systems and grin back at him as nicely as you can manage, saying, “Boy, are we glad to see you!”

  The raunchy-looking stranger says to Dave, who is clearly the driver here, “Car trouble?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Hell, this always happens on Independence Pass.”

  “What does?”

  “You’ve got engine trouble, right?”

  “Think so.”

  “Cool. Can I take a look?”

  “Wish you would.”

  The old hippie doubles over the lip of the Saturn to look down its throat. It doesn’t take as long as it might. He straightens with that same grin. “I can fix this.”

  “How?”

  “Stuff I’ve got.”

  “You really think you can do this?”

  “It’ll cost ya.”

  “No money.” Dave spreads empty hands.

  “Don’t need money,” he says, “I’ll settle for a ride.”

  “A ride.” Dave squints, weighing the transaction. What they need, what they will be expected to give, what the dreadlocked stranger really wants. He doesn’t agree right away. Instead he says carefully, “I’m Dave Berman and this is my friend Dan
ny and that’s Betz.” The pause that follows implies, and you are?

  “That’s cool.”

  “Danny Abercrombie. And you are … ?”

  The eyes widen even more and narrow with a little click. “Bo’s good.” He might as well have a headline rushing across his forehead in italics: not his real name.

  “Where are you from?”

  He shrugs. The answer is studiedly vague. “Out east. Where are you guys heading?”

  “Not sure.”

  Betz jabs Danny with her elbow, shut up! and says, “Snowmass.”

  “Yeah right, just Snowmass.”

  Dave picks up on it. “Yep. That’s as far as we go.”

  “That’ll do,” Bo says with a vulpine grin. “For now.” He is weighing the transaction too. “If you don’t mind one more person in the car.”

  “Who, us? I guess.”

  “I mean, if you want your car fixed.”

  “Of course,” Dave says.

  He is like the vampire waiting to be invited into the house so he can cross the sill and feed on whatever is inside. “You’re sure you’re OK with it?”

  So Dave has to force him a little bit, sealing the deal. “Damn straight.”

  Betz makes a smile. “Absolutely.”

  “You bet.”

  “OK then, let’s do this and let’s go.”

  Don’t ask what he did. Only advanced car mechanics know how to get a car running and keep it running. The lanky stranger is trotting back and forth between the car and the battered tin box strapped to the back of his bicycle for a very long time, while Dave and the twins sit without talking, somewhere between this spot by the road and the zone you enter when you’re stuck in the middle of pretty much nowhere, with nothing going on.

  After a while Bo says, “I’m done.”

  Whatever he did, when he says, “Turn on the motor” and Dave does, the engine to the Saturn kicks right in.

  “That’s great!”

  “Am I cool or what?”

  Betz says with an effort, “You are extremely cool.”

  “Now, about that ride.”

  Dave studies the bicycle. “We’ll have to figure out how to deal with this. Lash it to the back, maybe, unless you can take off a wheel?”

  Bo already has the door open. “Fuck that, let’s go.”

  “But what about your bike?”

  “Oh, I won’t be needing it,” he says from the backseat. “Now that you’re here.” He pats the seat beside him. “C’mon, girly. Get in.”

  Betz and Danny exchange looks. They are twins after all, and therefore bonded. “Thanks,” Danny says, sliding in before he can object. “My sister always rides shotgun.”

  Bo doesn’t smell as bad as they expected, for a guy who looks like he doesn’t wash. He’s content to ride along without talking, which is a plus. He is still an extra person in the car, and a stranger. They have no idea what he’s about. He could be anything, Betz realizes. He could do anything. For the first few miles he sits back quietly and hums under his breath which is OK, but in time the hum escalates into a drone, a constant mmmmmmmm, and when the drone strikes certain vibrations, he begins rocking in his seat. Ride along with that kind of thing in a closed space for long enough and it can get on your nerves. To stop the droning or at least interrupt it, Betz makes a half-turn in the passenger’s seat and tries to start a conversation.

  “Where are you going?”

  Something about the question makes Bo drone louder. His legs have begun jogging without reference to him and he is keyboarding on bare knees exposed by his ancient, fraying jeans. He taps away while Danny stares out the window, aggressively pretending nothing’s going on.

  She has to yell to get his attention. “I said, where are you going?”

  At the sound, Bo starts and his hands fly up. He says, too loud. “I’m going down into Arizona to kill the Reverend Earl.”

  Danny turns. “The Reverend Earl’s in Arizona?”

  “He’s everywhere.”

  “You’re going to … kill him?” Swiveling so she can see into the back, Betz looks Bo directly in the eyes, looking for signs. It has become important to know if he is crazy.

  “Damn straight.”

  “Why do you want to kill him?” Dave asks.

  “He took my sister.”

  “You mean she’s one of his angels?”

  Bo doesn’t explain this, he just says, “Not exactly.”

  All Mom ever wanted was to look like one of the Reverend Earl’s angels, and Mom has a PhD. People pay for the privilege. Betz says, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  The drone escalates. MmmMMMMMM …

  By this time she has made a complete 180 in the seat. What one twin thinks, the other knows, and Danny gives her a nod. Bo is fixed on his own problems and he doesn’t see Danny mouthing, wait. Without a word spoken, she agrees to create a diversion while he and Dave figure out what to do. “What do you mean, not exactly?”

  “I mean, nothing is what you think.”

  “You mean she’s not an angel but you don’t know what she is?” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Danny catch Dave’s eye in the rearview mirror. They are exchanging signals. Fine, they’re on the case she thinks, things are looking up.

  “I mean, nothing is what you think.” Just then the mysterious Bo-who-may-or-may-not-be-crazy chills Betz Abercrombie and sets her mind on a dark, winding path. “For instance, do you know where your sister is?”

  She jumps. How do you know I have a sister? “Not exactly.” God this is hard.

  “My point. That’s why I have to kill him,” Bo says.

  OK, he really is crazy, and it is her job to keep him talking until Dave and Danny decide it’s time. She repeats patiently, “You have to kill him because he has your sister.”

  “That and a couple of other things. That fucking formula.” He is getting madder and madder.

  “What formula?”

  “Don’t give me what formula,” he says angrily. “You know the one. Herbal whatever, costs a lot, supposed to make you thin.”

  “The Reverend Earl’s special formula?” There is a package on their kitchen windowsill. Mom brews it with her morning tea.

  He stabs the air. “That’s the shit, and it’s shit!”

  “Our mom takes it all the time.”

  “You think it’s good for her?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Well, do you?”

  God he sounds angry. She says mildly, “Mom thinks it’s good for her.”

  “My point.” MMmmmmmmmm … Bo’s irises haven’t exactly begun spinning, but it’s close. “You know he’s out to get the world.”

  “How can he get the world, all he is a lame-ass religion.”

  “Bulti-billion religion, if you want to call it that. What do you think he’s really doing out there? Do you have any idea?”

  “No idea.” This is so interesting that Betz is sorry Bo is crazy. She’d like to ride all the way to Arizona with him and find out where this is coming from, but now Danny and Dave are done communicating via rearview mirror, they’ve decided how to get rid of him.

  “And you think he’s out to rule the world.”

  “I didn’t say rule it,” Bo says. Mmmmmmmm. His knees are jiggling so fast that the drumming fingers on the big bones have blurred. “I said get it. That’s different.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something I don’t know?”

  “Do you know where your sister is?”

  This hits so close to what’s going on that she gulps. “Sure I do.”

  “She’s not at home, is she?”

  She doesn’t want to say.

  “Let me put it this way, does she have a weight problem?”

  “Not really,” Betz says rashly. “She’s way thin.”

  “Like that isn’t a weight problem?”

  “She’s got exactly what she wants!”

  “But your folks don’t think so.”

  “No.”

&n
bsp; “Bingo. The Dedicated Sisters. Get it? Them and the Reverend are hot linked.” He doesn’t wait for her to answer, he just assumes. “Have you ever looked at the incorporation papers for places like the Crossed Triceps or Bonanzarama or Jumbo Jigglers or The Time Has Come?”

  She says with some dignity, “That’s not the kind of thing kids get to see.”

  “Have you looked at the labels on your T-shirts lately, or your new CDs? Have you looked at the labels on your shoes?”

  Betz has just turned her ankle up in her lap to examine the maker logo on her sandals when Dave takes his foot off the accelerator. There is a lay-by ahead. She grabs Dave’s wrist, murmuring, “Dave, wait!” The touch is like a little electric shock.

  Fixed on the plan, he shakes her off.

  Bo seems not to notice that they are slowing down. “They’re all the same logo, right?”

  God, it is the same logo! “Guys,” she says, too late.

  “Later.” Danny leans across Bo and opens the door.

  Bo hums, “Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”

  “Danny, don’t!”

  “Don’t you—”

  Too late. Dave jams on the brakes and Danny shoves him out into the road.

  She cranes out the window to look back. Standing behind them in the road, Bo wigwags like a wild man. As Dave hits the accelerator, Bo’s mouth opens in an angry square. He is shouting, loud enough to reach the car. “I KNEW THAT WOULD HAPPEN.”

  In Aspen, Danny wins the jalapeño eating contest no problem, they are all tourists here so his reputation hasn’t caught up with them; they walk with free enchiladas and chiles rellenos, plus all the pie they can eat, and the prize money, in this case a hundred dollars. It seems logical to spend a little of it on the best ice cream in the Rockies, which they do, wandering the main drag until the cones are done because Dave won’t let them eat in the car. Interesting, what happens to the ski town in summer. The studiedly old-timey streets are lined with your expected bronzed Kens and Barbies, but the effect is undercut by a sprinkling of pale, portly businessmen in oversized shorts and dark polo shirts walking hand in hand with plump wives. How do they get to run loose in this cool place where everybody else is attractive and shaped right?