“Same difference,” he said.
“You know it’s not,” I said.
He said my name then. He might have said it before but this is the first time I heard it.
“Marjorie,” he said, “what kind of car did your daddy drive?”
“My mom used to drive a Toronado,” I said. “Now she drives a boat-tail Riviera. My dad drove a Continental.”
“There’s a good-sized car,” he said, like I’d passed a test, and I knew I had him. I could do anything with him I wanted to.
He was going to drop me off, but Garlyn and Joy weren’t home yet, so I invited him in. The dishes were like an earthquake around the sink. I set my purse on the kitchen table. The pint was right in the box of peas where I’d left it. I reached in to get it, and he held me from behind. The freezer let off steam. His hands ran up my front. The bottle stuck to my fingers.
“We don’t need that,” he said.
“It’s not for we,” I said, and broke the seal on it. I tipped it up and he kissed me on the throat. “You want some?” I said, and when he didn’t look, I knocked the heel of it soft against his temple.
He opened his eyes, then shook his head and kept going down.
“More for me,” I said, and took a sweet, hot swig.
He picked me up with his arms around the backs of my thighs. I slapped the freezer shut before he carried me out of the room.
“Where are we going?” I said.
“How ’bout right here?” he said by the couch.
“Nope,” I said.
I made him carry me around until he found my room.
I turned on the smallest light. It was almost Halloween, and Garlyn had bought candy. On the floor beside my mattress was a mess of Reese’s Cup wrappers and empty Pixie Sticks. The closet door was propped open by a pile of dirty clothes. I turned the light off and pushed him onto my bed and took a slug before joining him.
We were in the middle of it when I heard the back door close. I’d forgotten that Joy and Garlyn would be getting home. I was on top, still sipping that last precious inch. I couldn’t reach the door to close it, so I said, “Hang on,” and popped off him.
“No,” he said, and when I got back he was useless. The air was cold on me. We both said some unnecessary things.
We didn’t go anywhere though. Garlyn and Joy were banging around the kitchen, trying to make something. We just started talking. It wasn’t uncomfortable. I had a stash of Reese’s cups keeping cold on the windowsill, and we laid there eating them, holding hands and watching the headlights cross the wall. I had a picture of my dad in the winner’s circle with Unlikely Guide, a big blanket of roses over him. Lamont got up out of bed and looked at it. The headlights made his back white as a statue, his skinny hips.
“Come here,” I said.
He turned to me and pointed at the picture. “Is this him?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Now come here.”
And that was the real first time. It wasn’t great, it was only okay, but it meant something. I could tell it meant something, and back then not much did.
24
My sexual fantasies. Do you mean now or back then?
Now it would be having Lamont again, just for a night together, to hold him against me. That’s the worst thing about the Row, you never touch anyone. In general population there’s some relief. It’s cruel and unusual, Darcy says.
I guess I’d have him every way I could and in between we’d talk. We’d sleep. He was nice and warm in bed. If you were freezing, all he’d have to do was get in and you’d warm right up. It was just his metabolism. In the middle of the night, he’d have to throw the blankets off his side, and in the summer, forget it.
Or driving, we were always happy driving. We’d be flying down the interstate and all of a sudden he’d pull off. Not into a rest area, just by the side of the road, and we’d climb into the backseat. When the semis came by, the whole car would shake.
But the best was on speed. Your whole skin was just ready. And Lamont knew that. He’d take his time, going lightly over all of me. The shivers would just rip through you. That’s probably it, the one I’d choose. Make it take forever.
Those aren’t really fantasies, but I don’t have anything else. All that whipped cream and leather stuff seems silly to me.
There were a few things Lamont’s old girlfriend Alison wouldn’t do that I would. I liked doing them for him. He was always grateful, and always kind. We had a rule—everything was okay as long as no one got hurt.
Lamont liked lingerie—the black satin bras with holes cut in them, the garters. I was happy to wear stuff like that for him but it never did anything for me. Later I cut all of that stuff up right in front of him. But I’m sure we’ll get into that later.
Once I rented hip boots for a costume party, the kind with spike heels. I was going as Vampirella, remember her? He liked them so much that I never took them back. I’d surprise him with them sometimes. I’d pretend like I was getting up to go to the bathroom and come back with them on.
But for me, I guess I don’t get too excited about that stuff anymore, not after Natalie. It’s fun but it’s not what you really need. In here, you think about that—what you need and what you can do without. You can do without a lot of things. Fantasies might be one of them.
When I was a kid, I used to have fantasies about sex, but not like fantasies fantasies, more like guesses at what sex was.
I once saw my mom and dad having sex. It was a Saturday and it was raining, so my dad didn’t have to go in to the track. I didn’t know that. All I knew is that I wanted someone to put my cartoons on. I had my bunny and my blanky, all I needed was the TV on, so I went into their room to ask.
My mom’s wrists were tied to the bedposts with belts, and her ankles, and there was a pillowcase over her head with holes for her eyes and mouth. My dad was standing above her on the bed. He had a belt on, and something metal on his thing. He balanced a hand on the wall, lifted one foot and stuck his big toe in her mouth.
“Tell me you like it,” he said, and she tried to, but just grunted.
“Tell me you want it,” he said, and she grunted.
“Where do you want it?”
She jerked and struggled against the belts, lifting herself off the bed.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
He knelt on her shoulders, and I couldn’t see her head anymore. I went into the living room and sat on the couch across from the TV.
“Hey, pumpkin!” my dad said later, when he came out in his bathrobe. “Why didn’t you come get us?”
I used to wonder if every boy had a metal thing on his thing, and if I’d have to wear a pillowcase. In the bathtub, I scrubbed my toes good, and sometimes late at night I’d bend my foot up to my mouth, cover my eyes with my pillow and take a guilty lick. I decided it was like the sip of beer my father offered me at dinner. There was no reason to worry about it. Right now it made me sick but when I was older I’d probably get to like it.
And it was true, you know. I did.
25
I moved in with Lamont on November 15th, 1984. Garlyn and Joy helped us move my stuff. They were sorry to see me go but glad to have the room back. They said they wouldn’t tell my mom or Rico where I was. I cried a little; I’m not good at saying goodbye.
Lamont’s place was in a complex off East Edwards where there were a lot of college students—Casa Mia. It was loud, but you could get anything you wanted any time of night. Lamont had his own parking spot. Every night he stretched a cover over the 442.
It was a one-bedroom with a big living room and a kitchenette, a balcony with dusty lawn chairs on it. The bathroom was too small for two people, but we got along. He had a big TV and a VCR, and every night when we got home we’d watch a movie and have fun on the couch. He loved Sugarland Express, and Badlands, and he loved Paul Newman in Winning. The Blues Brothers, Dirty Mary Crazy Larry—all the great car movies. He even taped episodes of “Route 66.” I knew them all from when I was a kid.
It was great.
Describe it. I don’t know what you want. The walls were off-white, that spray-stucco stuff. Off-white wall-to-wall carpet. Fake wood cabinets in the kitchen. A dishwasher that never worked.
The balcony had a view of the old elementary school parking lot; that was always busy.
Not a lot of furniture. A gold crushed-velvet couch and two matching chairs. His water bed and dresser were a matching set too, in dark wood. The water bed had these drawers underneath but they weren’t really big enough for anything. It had a mirror in the headboard we both liked.
No plants. Nothing on the walls. His old girlfriend Alison had taken all of that stuff and he’d never replaced it. There were still nails in the walls. In the bathroom he had a J. C. Whitney catalogue. The Home of Chrome, the cover said, and inside he’d circled everything he wanted—valve covers and traction bars, Hooker headers. The sink leaked, you could hear it in the middle of the night. Someone had stuck a Budweiser label to the corner of the mirror, and someone else had peeled half of it off.
Our buzzer was always broken and one night the door of our mailbox was kicked in. The vestibule was full of leaves and red dust, and the sod on the lawn was dead. A sign by the sidewalk said efficiencies were available.
What I remember most about it though is the two of us eating dinner in, or wasting the morning reading the paper. Just us lying on the carpet, the whole place quiet, just the air conditioner going. Casa Mia had great air conditioning.
The quiet during the day, that was the best thing. Sometimes we’d stop reading and look up at each other. In the first week we made love in every room in that place, even the kitchenette.
26
Not much. We ate out a lot, just because of where we worked, and what hours.
Diet Pepsi in cans, for the car, and in the two-liter bottle for there. Oranges for vitamin C. Cold cuts, usually hard salami and provolone cheese. Wheat bread.
Later when Lamont was dealing, he kept everything in the freezer. I showed him how to turn a Ben & Jerry’s carton into a safe. You take a full one and run hot water around it and the ice cream comes out like a plug. Then you cut the bottom half off. You take one of those little I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter tubs, put your stash in it and put the ice cream on top of it. When we’d get an ounce, we’d buy two or three flavors.
The usual stuff in the door, ketchup and stuff, tartar sauce. A gallon jar of pickle chips I’d steal from the Village Inn when I worked there. When I was at the Catfish Cabin I’d steal boxes of their steak fries. Sometimes we’d eat them when we watched our movies. On the side of the box it said Large French Fries, and Lamont would always say, “I’m about ready for some Large French Fries, how about you?”
Eggs, bacon, butter. Milk. Frozen juice. Pink lemonade in the summer.
Beer. Lamont loved his beer. Miller High Life. Not Lite and not Bud, and forget about Coors. We wouldn’t even go to Mazzio’s Pizza because they didn’t have Miller. We’d get a suitcase every Thursday.
Actually we ate more stuff out of the cupboard. Tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. Cereal, lots of cereal. Lamont had a thing for Cap’n Crunch. No crunchberries though.
I had to clean it even though it was his. I put in a box of Arm & Hammer every month or two. You forget them and they turn into a brick.
I hope that’s enough. It’s a weird question. Why do you have to know that anyway?
27
A typical day back then.
We were both on swing, so we’d sleep in. We’d get up around ten, get showered, get dressed. I’d make breakfast and Lamont would go down and get the paper. He liked strawberries cut up on his Cap’n Crunch. We’d listen to the radio while we ate, then lounge around in the living room, moving around the rug with the sun. He liked to look at the classifieds.
This was right when he was getting ready to sell the 442 and buy the Roadrunner. The 442 reminded him of Alison, so it started reminding me of Alison, and it had to go. He was almost done with it, he just had a little detailing to do. He was going to use the money to buy five pounds of sinsemilla he could sell in half pounds around the college. That way he could restore the Roadrunner and still have some money in the bank.
He’d read the classics and sports cars to me.
“Fairlane,” he’d say, “Falcon, Goat, Goat, Goat.”
“Come on,” I said, “cut to the Mopar stuff.”
For a while it looked like we might buy a Hemi ‘Cuda, but when we went to test it, the wheel wells were full of Bondo. They said it was a Texas car.
“Texas, Maine maybe,” Lamont said.
We went back to the classifieds.
“Who wants a Mustang,” he’d say, “or a Vette. That’s a car for someone with no imagination.”
“You want that little Rambler Scrambler,” I said.
“There you go,” he’d say. “’70 AMX.”
We’d do that until lunch, then we’d make sandwiches or go out to Chloe’s Onion Fried or Taco Tico or Smoklahoma. Mach 6 was always good. Lamont always knew when I didn’t want to cook.
After lunch we’d do all the little things we had to do. Go to the laundromat, food-shop, get gas. You could show us at the post office, it was right about that time. I was trying to stop drinking so much, and Lamont wanted to go everywhere with me, just to make sure. He’d drop me off at the Conoco and come in to make sure I punched in. I didn’t like it at first, but after a while it was nice.
I paid Ronny the day guy to buy me a pint every day. He’d leave it under a Bazooka bubble gum bucket under the counter. I remember one day he was sick and I looked under the bucket and it wasn’t there. And there’s nothing you can do then, you just sit there in the booth and wait it out.
I’d drink the pint like I was drinking a quart and I’d be done by seven and feeling pretty good. Then I’d call across the street to China Express or the Red Barn and someone would run something over. El Chico was over there too, but their dinner rush was too crazy to spare anyone. My favorite was the Barnbuster. After a pint, I just loved saying, “I’ll have a Barnbuster, please.” A lot of things are funnier over the phone when you’re drunk.
After I ate I’d straighten up. We sold a lot of milk at night. I Windexed the doors. I’d go through a hardpack of Marbs and a valu-pak of Care Free peppermint before Mister Fred Fred showed up. I told you he’d come back, didn’t I? This isn’t the real place he comes back, but still.
He didn’t have a car, Mister Fred Fred. He’d just come walking across Broadway with his notebook like My Favorite Martian or someone. He was always early because he wore two watches, one on each arm. They were the exact same, like he’d gotten a deal on them. At first I thought maybe one was five minutes fast and the other was ten, or they were an hour behind each other, or the time on Mister Fred Fred’s planet. When I finally looked at them, they didn’t have anywhere near the right time. They were just way off. I didn’t even ask.
He’d come in and we’d do the drawers and right on time Lamont would pull up and open the door for me. I never had to wait.
When he kissed me, I knew he was checking my breath. We’d talk about our day, anything funny we’d seen. If it was summer or it was nice, we’d go home and get cleaned up and cruise Broadway. We’d get in the shower together, and sometimes we’d just forget about cruising. I didn’t mind one way or the other. It was nice to be out with Lamont; I was proud he was mine. I liked people looking at us.
His friends hung out down around the Kettle or up by Daylight Doughnuts. I didn’t know many of them, I just knew their rides. They were pretty straight, just regular gearheads. The guy to beat was this guy named Paul with a black ’68 Charger R/T with a 440. Heavy car, all steel except the hood. Guys would come up from the city to try him. We’d all go out to Memorial, the last half mile east where it’s the access road beside the Kirkpatrick Turnpike. Only one guy came close, this guy from Moore with a ’70 Buick GS; he got the jump off the line but Paul ran him down. He had a nitrous kit, and on Saturdays he
’d take it out to the strip and run low 10s with it, then Monday he’d drive it to work. It was quick and legal too. I think that’s what finally convinced Lamont to go with the Roadrunner.
We cruised and maybe ate some cottage fries at the Kettle and then went home and got stoned and watched TV. Fooled around. Around two we’d move into the bedroom and get ready for bed. Brush our teeth, that stuff. Lamont used Listerine. He was terrified of the dentist. You had to swish it thirty seconds for it to do any good, and when you spit it out the whole bathroom smelled. I used to tease him about it.
I set the alarm and got into bed first, and then he’d stand there wearing nothing and blow his nose. That was the last thing he did before he turned out the light. I’d hold the covers open for him to get in. He was always warm, even his hands.
“Marjorie,” he’d say. “Marjorita.”
“What?” I’d say.
“You know what I love about you?”
“No.”
“Everything,” he’d say.
We’d talk after, and then he’d sleep, but something about it made me awake. I’d lie there listening to him breathe, watching his face change in his dreams. I was afraid it was love. I didn’t know what to do if it was. It had never happened to me before. It never really has since.
That was back then, in the beginning. All of that changed when Natalie came.
28
Happy. Yeah, we were very happy. We knew it too. It was probably the best time of my life.
What?
Hang on, it’s Janille again. It might be dinner.
Sure, bring it in.
I’m just kidding, I know the rules. You’re so wired tonight. Did they remember the brisket this time?
Whoa, that’s a lot. Okay, let me get this.
Sorry. I’m going to turn you off while I eat, if that’s all right. I don’t want to make a mess of the recorder. It’s almost time to flip the tape anyway. I’ll talk to you later.
SIDE B
CHECK, CHECK
Okay, I’m back. You missed some serious barbecue, I’m telling you. And I didn’t even have to pay for it. That’s Leo’s, the original over on 36th and Kelley, the real one. When you come out to do your research you should get Mr. Jefferies to take you. It’s great. The oven has these big steel doors. When they open them to get your order, the smoke rolls right into the room and just sits there under the ceiling tiles. It smells like the whole place is on fire. The key is lots of black pepper and vinegar. I know you’re from Maine, so you’ll probably want the regular sauce, not the hot. Get a pound of everything except the barbecued baloney; that’s for tourists: And don’t forget the strawberry-banana cake. It doesn’t look like much but it’s perfect to cool your mouth down after. Diet Pepsi only does so much.
The Speed Queen Page 7
