Mac lay down. “I heard at the cafe that you had quit your job. I also heard why. Good move, Cory.”
“You might not think so,” she said as she walked to the bathroom, “when my money runs out and I make you buy all the pizzas.”
There were no bath linens. Cory turned the tap and reddish water exploded out before settling into a clear stream. “At least the plumbing’s working,” she called. She returned to the other room and sat next to Mac on the bed. A smile was evident under the hand that he held pressed against his face.
“This is my very first time in a motel room with a girl. So romantic.”
“I hear violins. Lift your head a minute.” He obeyed, and she pulled out the pillow and removed the crisp white case. “I’ll use this.”
He repositioned the pillow and set his head back down. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I was so glad to see you drive into that park. I was getting scared.” She kissed a clear spot on his cheek.
When she returned with the wet pillowcase he was sitting up. He was stripped to the waist. “Don’t panic. The sleeve was kind of wet and sticky. That’s why I took it off.”
“Like you’re really attractive now, anyway.” He lowered his hand from the wound and Cory swooned again. She wanted to cry.
Blood bubbled slowly from a line above his left eyebrow. More blood, congealed and dried, was smeared across his face and streaked down his neck. Cory took a breath to steady her stomach and began wiping away the mess. Mac closed his eyes and relaxed.
“I think you’re right,” she said after she wiped the forehead. “It’s not that deep and the bleeding has slowed.” She finished cleaning his face and started on his neck. “This needs to be rinsed off. Just a minute.” When she returned she handed the cloth to Mac. “You do the rest.”
While he wiped his neck and chest she sat and looked at a painting on the near wall. Children picking yellow flowers under a blue sky, mothers with teacups in the background.
“What a lousy day,” she said. “Do you know what happened? Mike kicked Rob out, then left to spend the night at his son’s. Mac, I don’t have anyone to go home to. It’s empty.”
His hand dropped onto her shoulder and began gently massaging. “I hate to see you like this,” he said.
“You’re the one who’s a pulpy mess.”
He drew up his knees and draped the cloth over them. The blood had stained it in abstract patterns of varying shades of red. “I should dry this and frame it,” he said. “Give it one of those artsy ironic titles, like Spring Spearing.”
“Throw it away. And that shoulder rub felt good.”
He resumed the massage. “Last winter when I moved to Summer and started school, within two hours of first walking into the building I knew who Cory Knutson was.”
“How did that happen?”
“There was an assembly that morning. You represented the student council when it presented all those dirty books to the school library.”
“Not dirty books. They had been banned in other schools, and we thought Summer High should own them all.”
“You were really funny. That’s how I knew who you were. Then I’d see you in the halls or in the lunchroom, and it was like you were the happiest person in the world. Always. When you showed up at the powwow it blew me away. I couldn’t believe it: Cory Knutson, School Star, hanging out with Indians. I just had to talk to you.”
She shifted so she was facing him. She pulled up her right leg and let the knee rest on his chest. “Did I ever tell you that I was forced to go that night?”
“Many times, Cory. Many times.” He stroked her knee with his thumb and it jerked.
“That’s kind of a ticklish spot, Mac.” He did it again, and she clamped his hand down with her own. “Not funny.”
“Ticklish anywhere else?”
“You’ll have to find out.”
“I just wish you weren’t so sad.” They both knew there was no answer to his wish. Mac reached out and turned off the bedside lamp. Cory lay down beside him. She kissed his bare shoulder.
A chorus of bleating car horns startled them. The noise crescendoed as a succession of vehicles roared past the hotel on the highway, accompanied by an undercurrent of screams and laughter. As the last car passed, an isolated and triumphant yell emerged from the discord: “Spear a redskin tonight!” The shouting and honking moved into the distance.
“I’m glad,” Mac said, “that I’m not on the street.” Cory kissed him again, and he shifted to pull her closer.
“I’m alone with my boyfriend in a motel room,” said Cory. “What happens next?”
Mac’s hand stroked her arm. He kissed her again. “I know what I want.”
Cory leaned forward and tugged the edge of the spread that lay folded across the foot of the bed. She pulled it over them, then resettled in his arms. “What do you want?” she said softly, eyes closed, mind at peace, heart beating at double time.
“An aspirin. My head really hurts.”
Cory sat up. Her heart resumed a normal pace. “I don’t have any, but I’ll take you home.”
“Not yet. I’d just get a million questions from the girls. Let’s at least wait until Barb and Jeff have put them to bed.” He pulled her back. “It’s nice here; it feels safe.”
Cory didn’t feel safe at all. Tucked under his arm, she sensed a peeling away of all resolve and reason. If his hand moved across her chest, or his lips touched hers, she knew everything else would give way. She held still. It would be his move.
Mac giggled. Cory’s spell broke. “What’s the joke?” she said.
“I’m thinking about Tony and Sasha. No way they’d believe that we could be in a motel room for twenty minutes and…” He pulled his arm from her and dropped it on his lap.
“And still have our pants on?”
“Exactly.”
“So it won’t happen tonight?”
“You want to? I always thought…you’ve said…”
“A minute ago I wanted to. It passed. It’s okay, Mac. It’s smart.”
“Cory, don’t get me wrong. There have been lots of times when I feel like I want to. Ten minutes ago, when you were wiping off the blood, I felt it. And most evenings after we say good night, I sure as hell feel like it. Feel like blowing a hole in my pants, to be precise.”
“Don’t be crude, Mac.”
A tangle of angry shouts and sharp laughter rose from the parking lot outside the door. They listened until the voices had moved around to the front of the building.
“I can’t risk it, Cory. At this point in my life I can’t risk what might happen to you, or us. I want to, believe me, but right now if I let go—”
“It’s okay, Mac. Please don’t make me feel like I was begging for it.”
“Sorry. Mostly, I’m trying to convince myself.”
“You convinced me. Now, hush.” She shifted until she was holding him, her arm draped around his shoulders, her fingers resting on his arms. She closed her eyes and tipped her head against his. It was good enough.
12
Voices collected outside the door, and Cory rose out of a dream.
A lock clicked, and Cory opened her eyes.
Cold air rushed through the doorway, and she sat up.
The light went on, and she looked straight at Mr. Bartleby. “Damn,” she whispered.
“What the hell?” he said. “Cory Knutson, what the hell are you doing in this motel room?” He was accompanied by three men. One of them laughed and pointed at the bed.
“That’s what she’s doing.”
Mac sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “Time to go, Cory.”
“Good idea, Mac.”
Mr. Bartleby was breathing heavily. His entire chest rose and dropped as he collected air to speak. “I bring these gentlemen up here to show them the only room not taken, and I find you here with your boyfriend.”
“Are my shoes over there, Mac?”
“Yes. Catch. Do you see my sweatshirt?”
“Right here.”
Mr. Bartleby moved into the room. His companions followed, engrossed and smiling. “Did you do this often, Cory? Is that why you would forget the keys, so you could sneak back with this boy?”
“I’m ready, Mac.”
“Me too.”
“Cory Knutson, I oughta call the sheriff and get you charged with trespassing. I oughta, I oughta do that.”
Cory put on her jacket and pulled the key ring out of a pocket. “I really wish I hadn’t quit this afternoon, Mr. Bartleby.”
“Too late. I won’t accept—”
“Because then I could quit now.” She let go of the ring and it dropped with a noisy clatter onto his shoe.
Cory was certain a thousand people stood in the parking lot and watched as she and Mac exited the motel, descended the steps, and walked toward the park and her car. Mac counted seven.
They didn’t speak until they were in the car. “Was that funny?” Mac said. “I think maybe that was funny. I wish I’d been awake to see his face when the light went on.”
Cory started the car. The headlights revealed shadowy figures milling in front of Unit 26. “It wasn’t funny at all. I’d like to kill someone. Anyone.”
“Maybe I’ll walk home.”
Cory wrenched the stick shift into position and pounded the gas pedal. The car lurched back and the engine died. She restarted the car, shifted smoothly, and made a careful exit from the park.
In Barb’s driveway they parked under the spotlight. A curtain moved slightly and then fell back in place. After a moment the spotlight went off.
Cory smiled. “Does that mean they like me?”
“They like you a lot.” He reached for her hand. “How long were we asleep?”
Cory checked the digital time display on the dash. “Maybe an hour. It’s not that late.”
“Would you like to come in?”
“No.” She slouched down in the seat. “Oh, man,” she said in a low, slow moan.
“You’re making animal noises. What’s wrong?”
“School will be awful on Monday. Everyone will know Bartleby caught us.”
“Caught us doing nothing.”
“That won’t be part of the story.” She kissed his hand. “You are a fun date, Harvey MacNamara.”
“Good night, Cory K.”
*
The ringing phone pierced Cory’s sleep. She opened her eyes, established her whereabouts, stumbled out of bed, and walked to the hall phone. She covered her eyes to shield them from sunlight streaming in through a curtainless window.
It was Elaine. “Rob’s in jail,” she said immediately. Cory woke completely and imagined the worst: he had lied about the blanks and had shot someone. “What happened?”
“He’s so stupid. Why did I have to love a stupid guy?”
“What happened, Elaine?”
“A few of the protesters, including our favorite hothead, broke through the rope. When the deputies arrested them and dragged them away, they saw Rob’s gun.”
“He told me it just had blanks.”
“It did, but it’s still a concealed weapon. And in Wisconsin, that’s a no-no. My dad is down there arranging to get him out. He’s actually proud of Rob.”
“And you’re not, obviously. Poor Rob—the women in his life have deserted him.”
“A gun, he thought a gun was a good idea.” Cory could hear Elaine pounding on the table. “I do love him, Cory, but I’m so angry.”
“Things will cool down. Things will be okay.”
“As long as he doesn’t have to go to jail for a lifetime.”
“I think marriage to Rob would be easier if he were in jail.”
“There’s something else that makes it a little complicated. I’m pregnant.”
“Elaine, that’s great! No, it’s awful. Rob a dad. Am I awake? Is this a bad dream?”
“Thanks for the support and comfort.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes. I made the mistake of telling him just before he left yesterday. I thought maybe it would cool him off, get him to think things through. It did just the opposite. He was so pumped up when he left for the landing.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. Rob should be a happy guy. He’s going to be a father and now he’s famous. It’s been all over the radio and in the paper.”
“Your pregnancy?”
“Very funny. His arrest. He’ll like the publicity. Did you see the article in the paper?”
“I just got up.”
“It could have been worse, I keep telling myself that. He might have actually shot someone. Wait—I think I hear them pulling into the driveway.”
“Tell Rob I say he’s stupid, I love him, and to call me. And congratulations on the baby.”
Rob didn’t call but nearly everyone else did, wanting to know more about his arrest. Cory explained to each that she knew little and didn’t know when she would hear more. With each call she hesitated before answering, expecting to be confronted by someone with questions about what happened in Unit 26. She knew it was just a matter of time. Mr. Bartleby had been practice-talking his whole life, she decided, in preparation for a story this good.
Mac called. “How are you doing?”
“Waiting for the world to collapse. Heard about Rob?”
“Yeah. If it were anyone but your brother I wish they’d lock him up for a long time. I’m sorry, Cory. I guess I’m just starting to get angry now.”
“How’s your cut?”
“Fine. Roxanne came by earlier and checked it out. I don’t know if I should tell you this, but she had already heard about us and the motel.”
“Damn.”
“I had to make a few corrections to her story. We weren’t naked, were we?”
“Why did you call and tell me this?”
“To cheer you up. I feel better.”
“I don’t. Thanks for the warning. I think I’ll run away before anyone else calls.”
She didn’t have a chance. Moments after she said good-bye to him, the phone rang again. And when she heard Karin purr hello, she knew it was too late. “Hello yourself,” she snapped.
“Guess what I heard?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I heard that Cory Knutson delivers room service at Bartleby’s Inn!”
“Did you call for a reason, Karin?”
“Nick’s older sister caught us once and it was awful, but that’s nothing like Bartleby walking in.”
“You don’t know the whole story, okay? So just keep your mouth shut about it.”
“Sneaking into a hotel room with stolen keys is pretty low. Doesn’t Mac have a tepee pitched somewhere in the woods you could use?”
Cory hung up. She grabbed her jacket, left the house, and walked down to the lake. A few skin-thin patches of ice floated on the water. She sat on a large, flat rock that had warmed slightly from the sun and leaned back against a boulder. The rock chair was a favorite spot, sheltered from the sun in summer by a canopy of leafy tree branches. Today the branches were stark spindles against a blue sky. She stretched out her legs. As a little girl she’d come to the rock to play and read and sneak forbidden snacks. Now she needed to think and wait and do a little wishing. “Things will be fine,” she said loudly, startling a small bird into flight. “Just fine.” Her wish list was short: that Rob wouldn’t go to jail again, that Mike would come home, that the motel story would die an early death, and that her mother’s soul was somehow resting in peace. “I wish, I wish, I wish,” she chanted softly. “I wish none of this were true.”
Her short night’s rest and the warm sun conspired, and Cory, nestled into the smooth hollows of the gray rock, closed her eyes and slept.
While sucked deep into the nonsensical frenzy of a dream (in which she was being chased down a never-ending water slide by a bare-chested Mr. Bartleby as he waved a bloody pillowcase), she felt a mosquito bite her shoulder and slapped it.
“Ow!”
Cory opened her eyes. Mike was crouched next to her, rubbing his hand. “Hello. I guess that means you’re glad to see me.”
“I thought you were a mosquito.”
“Too early in the season for those.”
“I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
He sat and started patting his pockets in his habitual search for cigarettes. He had quit smoking when Cory’s mother had first come home from the hospital, but his hands often still searched. He finally drew up his knees and hugged them. “I read about Rob in the paper and I wanted to get home. I’ve already stopped at Elaine’s parents’ to see him.”
“Was he still alive when you left the house?”
“I wasn’t rough on him at all. I even apologized for reacting so extremely yesterday, for throwing them out. He has other problems now and doesn’t need to be fighting with his stepfather. We’ve made a tentative peace, Cory.”
“Will they be moving back from the Crenshaws’?”
“I’ve told him they can, but Rob isn’t sure he wants to. We’re invited over for dinner tonight. We’ll eat and talk things through. It’s a start. Now tell me about your night. Did you manage to stay out of trouble?”
Cory closed her eyes and imagined she was in a car traveling in a new place. A rocky coastline, or the mountains. She’d never seen an ocean, never seen mountains.
“Cory?”
She opened her eyes and smiled at her stepfather. His concern eased a fraction. “I have to tell you something, Mike. I have to tell you before you hear it someplace else.”
He shifted. “That sounds ominous.”
“I screwed up a little bit last night and did something I shouldn’t have. Mac and I.”
“Get to it, Cory. Tell me.”
She told him about the mob at the landing and the men who harassed Mac at the cafe, told him about Mac’s cut and the blood. She told him about the strange mix of fear and wonder and anger on Mac’s face when he refused to be taken home or to the doctor. She explained why they went to the motel, what they did there, and how they had talked, then listened to the hateful noise and shouting on the street.
“We fell asleep,” she said finally. “Bartleby barged in an hour later and thought he found us having sex. Totally innocent.”
Revolutions of the Heart Page 10
