Beginners

by Raymond Carver

  “You boys come back now, you hear? Take it easy.”

  Back on the highway Jerry opened it up some—little spurts of eighty-five and ninety—but there were other cars, people returning from the parks and the mountains, and he mostly had to be satisfied with a quick pass now and then, and then a slow creeping along at fifty with the rest.

  They’d just passed an old pickup loaded with furniture when they saw two girls on bicycles.

  “Look at that!” Jerry said, slowing. “I could do for some of that.”

  He drove on by, but both of them looked back. The girls saw them and laughed, kept pedaling along the shoulder of the road.

  Jerry drove another mile and then pulled off the road at a wide place. “Let’s go back. Let’s try it.”

  “Jesus. Well, I don’t know, man. We should be getting back. That stuff’s too young anyway. Huh?”

  “Old enough to bleed, old enough to…You know that saying.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know.”

  “Christ sake. We’ll just have some fun with ’em, give ’em a bad time.”

  “All right. Sure.” He glanced at his watch and then at the sky. “You do the talking.”

  “Me! I’m driving. You do the talking. Besides, they’ll be on your side.”

  “I don’t know, man, I’m rusty.”

  Jerry hooted as he whipped the car around, started back the way they’d come.

  He slowed when he came nearly even with the girls, pulled onto the shoulder across the road from them. “Hey, where you going? Want a lift?”

  The girls looked at each other and laughed, but kept riding. The girl on the inside, nearest the road, was seventeen or eighteen, dark-haired, tall and willowy as she leaned over her bicycle. The other girl was the same age, but smaller and with light hair. They both wore shorts and halters.

  “Bitches,” Jerry said. “We’ll get ’em, though.” He was waiting for the cars to pass so he could pull a U. “I’ll take the brunette, you take the little one. Okay?”

  Bill moved his back against the front seat and touched the bridge of his dark glasses. “Hell, we’re wasting our time anyway—they’re not going to do anything.”

  “Christ, man! Jesus, don’t go in there already defeated.”

  Bill lighted a cigarette.

  Jerry pulled across the road, and in a minute or two drove up behind the girls. “Okay, do your stuff,” he said to Bill. “Turn on your charms now. Hustle ’em in for us.”

  “Hi,” Bill said as they drove slowly alongside the girls. “My name’s Bill.”

  “That’s nice,” the brunette said. The other girl laughed, and then the brunette laughed too.

  “Where are you going?”

  The girls didn’t answer. The little one tittered. They kept riding and Jerry drove along slowly beside them.

  “Oh, come on now. Where you going?”

  “No place,” the little one answered.

  “Where’s no place?”

  “Just no place.”

  “I told you my name. What’s yours? This is Jerry.”

  The girls looked at each other and laughed again. They kept riding.

  A car came up from behind, and the driver leaned on the horn.

  “Ah, cram it!” Jerry said. He pulled off a little farther onto the shoulder, though; and after a minute, seeing his chance, the driver of the other car shot around them.

  They pulled up alongside the girls again.

  “Let us give you a lift,” Bill said. “We’ll take you wherever you want to go. That’s a promise. You must be tired riding those bicycles. You look tired. Too much exercise isn’t good for you, you know.”

  The girls laughed.

  “Come on now, tell us your names.”

  “My name’s Barbara, hers is Sharon,” the little one said. She laughed again.

  “Now we’re getting someplace,” Jerry said to Bill. “Ask ’em again where they’re going.”

  “Where you girls going? Barbara,…where you going, Barb?”

  She laughed. “No place,” she said, “just down the road.”

  “Where down the road?”

  “D’you want me to tell them?” she said to the other girl.

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t make any difference; I’m not going to go anyplace with them anyway.”

  “Well, I’m not either,” she said. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Christ sake,” Jerry said.

  “Where you going?” Bill asked again. “Are you going to Painted Rocks?”

  The girls began laughing.

  “That’s where they’re going,” Jerry said. “Painted Rocks.” He picked up a little speed then and pulled off onto the shoulder ahead of the girls so that they had to come by on his side of the car to get around.

  “Don’t be that way,” Jerry said. “Come on, get in. We’re all introduced. What’s the matter anyway?”

  The girls just laughed as they rode by, and laughed even more when Jerry said, “Come on, we won’t bite.”

  “How do we know?” the little one called back over her shoulder.

  “Take my word for it, sister,” Jerry said under his breath.

  The brunette glanced back, caught Jerry’s eyes, and looked away with a frown.

  Jerry pulled back onto the highway, dirt and rocks spurting from under the rear tires. “We’ll be seeing you,” Bill called as they sped by.

  “It’s in the bag,” Jerry said. “See the look that bitch gave me? I tell you, we got it made.”

  “I don’t know,” Bill said. “Maybe we should cut for home.”

  “No, no, we got it made! Just take my word for it.”

  He pulled off the road under some trees when they came to Painted Rocks. The highway forked here, one road going on to Yakima, the other, the main highway, heading for Naches, Enumclaw, the Chinook Pass, Seattle. A hundred yards off the road was a high sloping black mound of rock, part of a low range of hills honeycombed with footpaths and small caves with a sprinkling of Indian sign-painting here and there on several of the cave walls. The cliff side of the rock, facing the highway, carried announcements and warnings like NACHES 67—GLEED WILDCATS—Jesus Saves—Beat Yakima, flat irregular letters for the most part, in red or white paint.

  They sat in the car smoking cigarettes, watching the highway and listening to the intermittent tat-tat of a woodpecker back in the trees. A few mosquitoes flew into the car and hovered over their hands and arms.

  Jerry tried to pick up something on the radio and rapped the dashboard sharply. “Wish we had another beer now! Damn, I could sure go for a beer.”

  “Yeah,” Bill said. He looked at his watch. “Almost six, Jerry. How much longer we going to wait?”

  “Christ, they’ll be along any minute. They’ll have to stop when they get where they’re going, won’t they? I’ll bet three bucks, all I got, they’ll be here in two or three minutes.” He grinned at Bill and bumped his knee. Then he began to tap the head of the gear shift.

  When the girls came into view, they were on the opposite side of the highway, facing the traffic.

  Jerry and Bill got out of the car and leaned against the front fender, waiting.

  When the girls turned off the shoulder into the trees, they saw the men and began to pedal faster. The little one was laughing as she raised up from the seat to push harder.

  “Remember,” Jerry said, starting away from the car, “I’ll take the brunette, you take the little one.”

  Bill stopped. “What’re we going to do? Man, we’d better be careful.”

  “Hell, we’re just having some fun. We’ll get ’em to stop and talk awhile, that’s all. Who cares? They aren’t going to say anything; they’re having fun. They like to be paid attention to.”

  They began sauntering over to the cliff. The girls dropped their bicycles and commenced running up one of the paths. They disappeared around a corner and then reappeared again, a little higher up, where they stopped and looked down.

  “What’re yo
u guys following us for?” the brunette called down. “Huh? What d’you want?”

  Jerry didn’t answer, just started up the path.

  “Let’s run,” Barbara said, still laughing and a little out of breath. “Come on.”

  They turned and started going up the path at a trot.

  Jerry and Bill climbed at a walking pace. Bill was smoking a cigarette, stopping every ten feet or so to get a good inhale. He was beginning to wish he were home. It was still warm and clear, but shadows from the overhead rocks and trees were starting to lengthen out over the trail in front of them. Just as the path turned, he looked back and caught a last glimpse of the car. He hadn’t realized they were so high.

  “Come on,” Jerry snapped. “Can’t you keep up?”

  “I’m coming,” Bill said.

  “You go right, I’ll go straight on. We’ll cut ’em off.”

  Bill angled to the right. He kept climbing. He stopped once and sat down to catch his breath. He couldn’t see the car, nor the highway. Over on his left he could see a strip of the Naches River, the size of a ribbon, sparkling beside a stand of miniature white spruce. To the right he could look down the valley and see the apple and pear orchards neatly laid out against the ridge and on down the sides of the ridge into the valley, with here and there a house, or the sun-gleam of an automobile moving on one of the little roads. It was very still and quiet. After a minute he got up, wiped his hands on his pants, and began following the trail again.

  He went higher, and then the path began to drop, turning left, toward the valley. When he came around a bend he saw the two girls crouched behind an outcrop of rock, looking down over another path. He stopped, tried casually to light a cigarette, but noticed with a little shock his trembling fingers, and then began to walk toward the girls as nonchalantly as he could.

  When they heard a rock turn under his foot, they jerked around, saw him, and jumped up, the little one squealing.

  “Come on, wait a minute! Let’s sit down and talk this over. I’m tired of walking. Hey!”

  Jerry, hearing the voices, came jogging up the path into sight. “Wait, goddamn it!” He tried to cut them off and they broke in another direction, the little one squealing and laughing, both of them running barefoot across the shale and dirt in front of Bill.

  Bill wondered where they’d left their shoes. He moved to the right.

  The little one turned sharply and cut up the hill; the brunette whirled, paused, and then took off down a path that led toward the valley, along the side of the hill. Jerry went after her.

  Bill looked at his watch and then sat down on a rock, took off his dark glasses and looked again at the sky.

  —

  The brunette kept running, hopping, until she came to one of the caves, a large overhang of rock with the interior hidden in the shadows. She climbed in as far as she could, sat down and dropped her head, breathing hard.

  In a minute or two she heard him coming down the path. He stopped when he came to the overhang. She held her breath. He picked up a piece of shale, sailed it back into the dark. It whacked against the wall just over her head.

  “Hey, what d’you want to do—put my eye out? Quit throwing rocks, you damn jerk.”

  “Thought you might be hiding out in there. Come out with your hands up, or I’m coming in for you.”

  “Wait a minute,” she said.

  He jumped up onto a little ledge under the rock and peered into the dark.

  “What d’you want?” she said. “Why don’t you leave us alone?”

  “Well,” he said, looking at her, letting his eyes move slowly over her body, “why don’t you stop running, and we will.”

  She came up close to him, and then with a darting movement tried to slip by, but he put his hand out to the wall, blocking her way. He grinned.

  She grinned, then bit her lip and tried to go by on the other side.

  “You know you’re cute when you smile.” He tried to grab her around the waist but she turned, slipped away from him.

  “Come on! Stop it! Let me out of here.”

  He moved in front of her again, touched her breast with his fingers. She slapped his hand down, and he grabbed her breast, hard.

  “Oh,” she said. “You’re hurting me. Please, please, you’re hurting me.”

  He relaxed his grip, but didn’t let go. “All right,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Then he let go.

  She pushed him off balance and jumped past onto the path, running downhill.

  “Goddamn you,” he yelled, “come back here!”

  She took a path to the right that began to climb again. He slipped on some bunchgrass, fell, scrambled up and started running again. Then she turned into a narrow defile, a hundred feet long, with light and a view of the valley at the other end. She ran, her bare feet smacking the rock and echoing to him above his own hoarse breathing. At the end she turned and yelled, “Leave me alone!” her voice breaking.

  He saved his breath. She turned and ducked out of sight. When he got to the end he looked up over his shoulder and saw her climbing steadily on her hands and knees. They were on the valley side, and she was climbing towards the top of a knoll. He knew if she made it he’d prob ably lose her; he couldn’t go much farther. He put everything he had into it, scrabbling up the side, using rocks and bushes for handholds, his heart pounding and his breath coming in sharp cutting gasps.

  Just as she reached the top he grabbed her ankle and they crawled onto the little plateau at the same time.

  “Damn you,” he sobbed. He still had her ankle when she kicked him as hard as she could in the head with her other foot, jarred him so that his ear rang and lights flashed behind his eyes.

  “Son, son of a bitch you,” his eyes streaming water. He threw himself down over her legs and grabbed her by the arms.

  She kept trying to bring her knees up but he turned slightly, kept her pinned down.

  They lay like for a while, gasping. The girl’s eyes were large and rolling with fear. She kept turning her head from side to side and biting her lips.

  “Listen, I’ll let you go. You want me to let you go?”

  She nodded quickly.

  “Okay, I will. First I want it though. Understand? Without any trouble. Okay?”

  She lay without speaking.

  “Okay? Okay, I said?” he shook her.

  After a moment she nodded.

  “Okay. Okay.”

  He turned loose her arms and raised up, began fumbling with her shorts, trying to unzip them and slide them over her hips.

  She moved quickly and caught him on the ear with a clenched fist, rolling to the side in the same motion. He lunged after her. She was yelling now. He jumped onto her back and drove her face into the ground. He held onto the nape of her neck. In a minute, when she stopped struggling, he began slipping her shorts down.

  —

  He stood up, turned his back to her and began brushing his clothes. When he looked at her again she was sitting up, staring at the scuffed ground and rubbing a few strands of hair against her forehead.

  “You going to tell anybody?”

  She did not speak.

  He wet his lips. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  She leaned forward and began to cry, quietly, holding the back of her hand against her face.

  Jerry tried to light a cigarette but dropped the matches and started to walk off without picking them up. Then he stopped and looked back. For a minute he couldn’t understand what he was doing there, or who this girl was. He glanced uneasily across the valley, the sun just starting to sink into the hills. He felt a slight breeze against his face. The valley was being tipped in with the dark ground-covering shadows of ridges, rocks, trees. He looked at the girl again.

  “I said I wish you wouldn’t say anything. I’m…Jesus! I’m sorry, I really am.”

  “Just…go away.”

  He came closer. She started to get up. He stepped forward quickly and hit her on the side of the head with his
fist, just as she got to one knee. She fell back with a scream. When she tried to get to her feet again, he picked up a rock and slammed it into her face. He actually heard her teeth and bones crack, and blood came out between her lips. He dropped the rock. She went down heavily, and he crouched over her. When she began moving he picked up the rock and hit her again, not very hard this time, on the back of the head. Then he dropped the rock and touched her shoulder. He began to shake her, and after a minute he turned her over.

  Her eyes were open, glassy, and she began turning her head slowly from side to side, rolling her tongue thickly in her mouth as she tried to spit out blood and splinters of teeth. As she moved her head slightly from side to side, her eyes kept focusing on him, then slipping off. He got up and walked a few feet, then came back. She was trying to sit up. He knelt, put his hands on her shoulders and tried to make her lie down again. But his hands slipped to her throat, and he began to choke her. He couldn’t go through with it, though, just enough so that when he released his hands her breath came scraping hysterically up her windpipe. She sank back, and he stood up. Then he bent over and worked loose from the ground a big rock. Loose dirt fell from the bottom of the rock as he raised it up even with his eyes and then over his head. Then he dropped it on the girl’s face. It sounded like a slap. He picked up the rock again, trying not to look at her, and dropped it once more. Then he picked up the rock again.

  —

  Bill made his way through the defile. It was very late now, almost evening. He saw where somebody had gone up the hill, turned and retraced his steps to go a different, easier way.

  He’d caught up with the little one, Barbara, but that was all; he hadn’t tried to kiss her, much less anything else. He honestly just hadn’t felt like it. Anyway, he was afraid. Maybe she was willing, maybe she wasn’t, but he had too much at stake to take a chance. She was down at the bicycles now, waiting for her friend. No, he just wanted to round up Jerry, get back before it got any later. He knew he was going to catch hell from Linda, and she was probably worried sick besides. It was too late, they should have been back hours ago. He was very nervous and sprinted the last few feet up the hill, onto the little plateau.