by Ray Garton
He’d made it through the night without having a drink, without driving down to Handi-Spot and buying a bottle. It had not been easy.
At first, he’d fallen asleep only to find himself in a dream of Victoria – a vivid dream from which he’d awakened suddenly with a ragged gasp, still smelling her perfume, his heart drumming against his ribs. He’d been in bed then. He’d tried to go back to sleep two more times, maybe three or four, but the same thing had happened again and again.
Around four in the morning, he’d come out to the living room and stretched out on the couch. He’d turned on the TV, tuned it to the Cartoon Network. Something that would shut his mind down and not require any thought. Pretty soon the cartoons had blurred, the colors had bled together, and he’d finally drifted off into a deep sleep.
He swung around and sat up on the edge of the couch, put his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with both hands. He looked down and saw Conan curled up on the floor beside the couch. The dog lifted his head and looked at him, then stood and stretched. Reznick sat up straight and looked at the clock on the wall, focused. It was eight thirty-three. He could easily go back to sleep, but it was time to get up.
“Hey, buddy,” Reznick said, and Conan hopped up onto the couch beside him. He petted the dog, roughed him up a little. “Need to go outside, I bet.” Reznick stood and went to the door, opened it, opened the screen, and said, “Go ahead, boy.”
Conan dashed outside.
Reznick went to the kitchen and got the coffee maker started. By the time he was done with that, Conan was back inside. Reznick closed the screen door and locked it, then turned on the swamp cooler. He fed Conan, went into the bathroom and took a shower, and by the time he got out, the coffee was ready. He put on a pair of jeans, poured a cup of coffee, then took it outside, shirtless and barefoot. Conan followed him. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, and the thermometer on the wall beside his door read a hundred and four. There was no breeze – the morning was still. Country music played loudly from one of the trailers.
Reznick opened his mouth for a long, luxurious yawn, then turned to go back inside, but stopped. He heard a rhythmic slapping sound. He turned around and faced the road, turned toward Anna Dunfy’s trailer.
A multi-colored ball bounced on the pavement from the front of the Dunfy trailer. A moment later, Kendra appeared.
“Hello,” Reznick said.
Startled, she missed the ball and gasped, turning to him. The ball bounced away from her and she chased after it, snatched it from the air, then turned to him again.
“Huh-hello, Mr. Reznick,” she said. She looked at him with her mouth open.
“You can call me Marc,” he said.
“Mommy likes me to call grownups by Mr. and Mrs.”
“I see. Well, I’m more comfortable with Marc.”
“Okay.”
Conan hurried over to Kendra and pawed at her bare shins. She hunkered down, put the ball on the ground, and petted him with both hands, saying, “Oh, you’re just such a sweet little doggy, you know that, Conan? You’re a sweet little doggy.”
While she played with and talked to Conan, Reznick took her in.
She wore a short sleeve red plaid shirt open over a bikini bra, and a pair of black shorts, flip-flops on her feet. Her legs were long, her sizeable breasts round and firm. Her long, honey-colored hair fell down on both sides of her face as she bent and played with the dog.
Reznick realized his breathing had increased in speed. His heart was beating faster. His palms were sweaty, and it had nothing to do with the heat. He could not remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so badly, so deeply, the last time he’d felt a physical hunger for the touch of a woman’s flesh, for the sensation of her lips on his.
He remembered the night before on the roof of Anna’s trailer – he’d noticed something odd about Kendra. What had it been? He’d been unable to put his finger on it then, and he couldn’t identify it now, either.
He sipped his coffee, but it tasted bitter, awful. He tossed the coffee out on the small patch of grass in front of his trailer.
“How old are you, Kendra?” he said.
“I’m sixteen,” she said. “I’ll be seventeen in November. Mommy said she’s going to be buy me a big cake for my seventeenth birthday. German chocolate’s my favorite. What’s your favorite kind of cake, Mr. Rez – uh… Marc?”
Mommy, he thought. How many sixteen-year-olds call their mother “Mommy”?
“I guess my favorite would be chocolate,” he said, frowning now, trying to put his finger on it. “You like Conan, huh?”
“Oh, yes! He’s such a cute little doggy.”
“Don’t you have any pets?”
She stood up then, and a frown created lines between her eyebrows and on her unblemished forehead. She tilted her head to one side, mouth open slightly. “No, I don’t. I’ve never had a pet. I’m gonna ask Mommy if I can have a doggy.”
“You go to school, Kendra?”
“Not during the summer. But yes, I go to school.” She frowned again. “Some kids, they make fun of me, because I ride on the short bus.”
Mommy. Doggy. The short bus.
Oh, my God, Reznick thought. She’s retarded.
“I’m gonna tell Mommy I want a doggy.” She took a few steps until she was standing right in front of him. She spoke in a whisper. “When you see Mommy, will you tell her you think it would be a good idea if I got a doggy?”
She was so close to him he could almost feel her heat. Her eyes were the blue of denim. She wore no lipstick, but her lush lips were rosy.
“Well,” he said, “I… I suppose I could put a word in.”
“Oh, thank you!” she said. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him.
Reznick’s heart stopped as he felt her breasts crush against him, felt her warmth against his body. He did not return her embrace because he was afraid that if he did, he would not let go, he would be unable to let go until his mouth was on hers and their tongues were together and his hand was on her breast, and he thought, Whoa, buddy, as his heart seemed to beat against his ribs like some kind of animal locked in a small cage desperate to get out. He smelled the shampoo she’d used to wash her hair, smelled the toothpaste she’d used to brush her teeth, and felt her breasts, still pressing against him. It seemed to go on and on, and he felt perspiration dribble down his sides, down his back, and he hardened against her, he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t stop it, his erection pressed against her and she pressed against it, and her embrace seemed to last and last and -
“I’m gonna go tell Mommy I want a doggy right now,” she said as she pulled away. “And if she don’t agree with me, maybe she’ll agree with you.” She turned and picked up the ball, tucked it under an arm. She bent down to pet Conan one more time. “Bye-bye, Conan.” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder and said, “Bye-bye. Marc.”
“Bye,” he said, but it came out a broken whisper.
Kendra disappeared around the front of her trailer.
Reznick turned and went inside before someone saw him standing there with a hard-on.
* * * *
Anna leaned out the door of the trailer and said, “Kendra? Breakfast is ready.”
“Okay,” Kendra said, coming from the front end of the trailer holding a ball.
Anna noticed what she was wearing and said, “Hey, if you want to wear that shirt, you’ll wear it buttoned up, understand me?”
“But it’s cooler this way.”
“Then put on a cooler shirt you can button up. You’re not going around like that, Kendra.”
Anna stepped back as Kendra came up the steps and entered the trailer.
“You don’t think it looks good?” Kendra said.
“That’s not the point. I don’t want you walking around dressed like that, and I think you know why. Don’t you?”
“But what about when we go to Brandy Creek and I swim in the lake? I’m wearing a lot less then.”
; “Well, that’s different. We’re not at Brandy Creek right now. Sit down, now, I’ve got pancakes.”
“Oh, goody!”
Kendra went to the small table in the kitchen and sat down.
Anna put a plate of pancakes and some banana slices in front of Kendra. There was already margarine and syrup on the table.
Anna’s parents had been crazy people. They had been abusive and unloving. But they had given her something she had always appreciated – they had seen to it that the family had always eaten their meals together at the dining room table. Well, they had eaten breakfast and dinner there, anyway. In the morning, they’d gathered at the table and, when the yelling subsided, they talked about the day ahead, and their plans for it. At dinner, they’d talked about the day that had passed and what had become of their morning plans. It was a good memory she had of growing up – one of the few – and she wanted to pass it onto Kendra. It would be nice if Kendra could pass it onto her children. But that wasn’t going to happen.
“Mommy, when are you going to let me stay here by myself when you go out?” Kendra asked.
“I don’t know, honey.”
“I’m old enough. I’m sixteen.”
“I know, sweetheart, but we’ve talked about this. You’re sixteen, but… you’re not like other sixteen-year-olds.”
The heavy aroma of buttermilk pancakes and coffee filled the trailer. There was a radio on the kitchen counter and Anna had it tuned to a soft rock station. She didn’t believe in having the television on during mealtime, but music was nice. Anna wore a pink T-shirt and blue shorts, feet bare.
“But I’m old enough to take care of myself while you’re gone,” Kendra said. “I promise I won’t even leave the trailer. I can even feed myself. You’ve seen me. I can make cereal and sandwiches – I can even cook eggs and bacon, you’ve seen me, and I can make a grilled cheese sandwich, too. And soup, I can make soup. I’d be fine if you weren’t here.”
Anna sighed. It was a discussion that came up frequently. Kendra wanted some independence, some control over her own life. She wanted to prove that she could take care of herself, if only for a little while.
“Okay, look,” Anna said. “We’ll see. Okay? Maybe it would be okay to leave you here for a little while sometime. But that’s not a definitive yes. We’ll see.”
“But that’s what you always say,” Kendra said. She sounded frustrated.
“Your breakfast is getting cold,” Anna said as she sat down with her own breakfast.
Kendra chewed a mouthful of pancake, gulped it down, then said, “You always say ‘we’ll see, we’ll see,’ – so when, Mommy? When do we get to see?”
Anna sighed as she poured syrup over her pancakes. How could she argue with that? Kendra was right. She said “we’ll see” a lot – Kendra had every right to be sick of hearing it. Anna had never heard that when she was a girl. Her parents were more the “shut up,” “go to your room,” and “You want me to hit you again?” type and had none of the gentility or basic good nature of a “we’ll see.” At least Kendra would never hear any of those things. If “we’ll see” was the worst thing Anna ever said to Kendra, she was doing okay.
“I’ll tell you what,” Anna said. “Next time the temp agency calls on me, I’ll seriously consider it. Okay?”
Kendra beamed. Her eyes grew wide, as did her smile.
“Thank you, Mommy!” Kendra said, her voice breathy. It was an important victory for her, and it took her a moment to absorb it. During that moment, her face held a childlike glow that almost concealed her true age. Almost. There was no concealing those breasts, those legs.
Anna noticed men staring when they went to the Safeway for groceries – not boys Kendra’s age, but middle-aged men with wives and kids. Oh, sure, other teenagers noticed her, too, but that was natural. But mostly, Anna noticed the grown men. Something came up in their eyes as they looked at her. Like some creature rising up out of the deep shadows of a moonlit forest, this thing rose up in their eyes and first widened, then narrowed them. Sometimes the men licked their lips without seeming to realize it. Maybe the jaw jutted a bit, or the chest puffed up and the gut sucked in as a deep breath was inhaled. While their heads usually remained facing front, their eyes – their darkened eyes with that new thing in them – followed Kendra. Sometimes the men were bold in watching her pass, as if they didn’t give a damn if their wives saw them do it. They all reacted a little differently – but they all had the same look on their faces, in their eyes. They were hungry animals, hungry for her daughter’s flesh. That darkness that rose up in their eyes was the malignant onyx-flash of lust. Their eyes dwelled on her breasts, her ass, her legs. Some hungered for her individual parts, others for her whole body.
Anna remembered a time when men looked at her that way, and she’d liked it. If Kendra were a normal sixteen-year-old girl, she wouldn’t be so concerned. But she was a little girl with a big handicap – that face, that body. Those parts.
Anna could almost hear the camera-click of their minds snapping pictures of Kendra, of those parts, taking mental pictures that could be pored over in their minds later.
That was why she was so wary of leaving Kendra home alone. She was so vulnerable. There were some shady people living in the Riverside Mobile Home Park. Of course, shady as they were, none of those people had ever been any trouble, and there was no reason to think they would be. She was just making excuses, she knew that.
Kendra deserved a little independence.
“Mommy, can I have a little doggy?” Kendra said.
Anna chuckled. “You’re full of demands this morning, aren’t you?”
“Demands?” Kendra said, her eyebrows rising high.
“Nothing. A little doggy?”
“Yeah, like Marc’s.”
They ate as they talked. Sometimes Anna sipped her coffee.
“You should call him Mr. Reznick.”
Kendra shrugged. “He told me to call him Marc.”
“Oh? When?”
“This morning. I was talking to him outside.”
“Oh. Well, if he wants you to call him Marc, then I guess it’s okay. You like his dog, huh?”
“Oh, Conan is such an adorable little doggy! Can’t I have one, please? He’d be able to keep me company when you leave me alone here.”
Kendra laughed. “You’re very ambitious this morning.”
“Ambitious?”
“That means you’re covering a lot of ground. First you want me to leave you here alone, then you want a little dog, and somehow, you manage to successfully tie the two together. Kendra, I think you should go into advertising.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, you’d be a big hit.”
Kendra laughed, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what her mother meant.
Anna finished her breakfast. Her purse hung from the back of her chair. She reached into it and removed her cheap GNC cigarettes and a lighter, and she lit one up.
“Well, Kendra,” she said, “if you had a dog, no matter how little he was, he’d have to be fed and watered every day. He would have to get plenty of love. And you would be responsible for all that. You’d have to house train him, if he isn’t already, and you’d have to clean up after all his little accidents.”
Again, Kendra’s eyebrows rose high, this time with excitement. “Oh, I would, I would. I’d take good care of him, and I’d do everything.”
“Hm. Well, I wouldn’t mind having a little dog in the house myself. It’s been a long time since I had a pet around. I miss it.”
Kendra’s fork dropped onto her plate with a sharp clatter and she clapped her hands together rapidly a few times. “Oh, yaaay!” she said. “Thank you so much, Mommy! Can we get one today?”
“Today?” Anna said, smoke fluttering out of her mouth and nose. “Well, as far as a dog goes, we’ll – “ She stopped herself. She’d been about to say, We’ll see. “We have to run some errands today. We’ll stop by the Haven Humane Society and see if
we can find a little doggy to take home.”
Nine
Dressed in a dark blue suit with a red-and-black tie, Reznick left the trailer, locked the door, and carried his briefcase to his car. His father had always told him to wear a suit when he worked, no matter what he did. He should always look his best, the old man always said.
Reznick got in the car and started the engine. He started to back out but stepped on the brake because a white pickup truck was coming along the narrow road. It drove past him and around the loop to the other side. Reznick backed out and went around the loop. The pickup truck stopped at unit seventeen. Reznick left the trailer park.
He was in the Yellow Pages and the White Pages. He wondered if he should blow some money on advertising. Maybe in the newspaper. Things couldn’t go on like this much longer. Something had to change. He was actually putting reading material in his briefcase so he’d have something to do at the office. He had two novels in his briefcase – a Larry McMurtry and a Stephen King. He’d probably get through the McMurtry by lunch, if it was like most days. The King book was four times the size of McMurtry’s and would take more time.
On the northern end of North Street, Reznick pulled off the road into a small parking lot, and pulled up beside a tollbooth-like house with a sign on the front that read Java-Hut. It was painted pastel violet with pastel yellow trimming, like an Easter egg. He stopped with his car window just below the window in the side of the little house. The young woman who worked in there was a fresh-faced blonde with dreamy eyes and a bedroom smile that was an especially pleasant way to start the day.
“Hello, Marc,” she said.
“Good morning, Janine,” he said with a big smile. “I’ll have the usual, please.”
“Comin’ up.”
It was the only time he ever wished he drove a big pickup or an SUV – so he could be level with the window and look in there while Janine moved around making his frozen coffee drink. He imagined she wore faded denim shorts above long tan legs that looked as smooth as the coffee drinks she served. Probably a very tight, round ass. Nice, smallish breasts – those he’d glimpsed from his car as she bent forward. She looked like she had the whole world in front of her – and she was trapped in that little shack selling coffee drinks. He wondered what her dreams were, and how that job figured into them. She was twenty-two, twenty-three – where did she hope to be at thirty-three, at forty-three? Or did she think that far ahead? That was what worried Reznick about the young people he met – they seemed to go along with the flow of things, no ambitions, no particular hopes or dreams, seeking not knowledge but the next entertainment, the next diversion. He wondered if Janine was that way. And he wondered with whom she discussed those things – what lucky guy got to hear about Janine’s dreams? Or was she with a guy who didn’t care?
