by Nancy Canyon
Alice gripped the door handle. “Slow down. Who needs Rod when you’ve got Sunstar?”
Gena turned to Alice, eyebrows raised and mouth open to speak.
“Look out,” Alice screamed.
Gena slammed on the breaks, barely avoiding the fox that darted across the road. The car skidded sideways through the gravel, coming to a stop in the ditch. Gena bounced forward, her arms knocking against the horn, honking obscenely into the naked silence. She leaned back, rubbing her forearm vigorously.
Alice shook out her hands where she’d braced herself against the dashboard. She asked Gena, “You alright?”
“I’m shaking, see?” she said, holding out a fluttering hand.
“Me too. You saw it this time, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, your red fox nearly killed us.”
“My stomach feels woozy,” Alice said. She rested back against the tilted seat, picturing the patrol car stopped out in front of her house; her father storming across the brown lawn into the house; her mother pacing and slamming cupboard doors, fuming because her husband hadn’t come home last night. He’d yell about the mistake they’d made letting Alice move out on her own. Her mother would accuse him of what Alice had told her. He’d scream about Alice’s twisted imagination and pick up the phone to call for a psychiatric evaluation. Alice opened the door, leaned over the ditch, and vomited.
Gena sat up. “Ah, that’s not a good sign. Guess I’d better get you home.”
Alice closed the door, collapsing back against the seat. She shielded her eyes against the burning sun, looking past Gena toward the river, hoping to spot the fox.
“Here we go,” Gena said, gunning the engine, spinning the back tires, throwing up gravel and clouds of dust. As the tires caught, the car bolted out of the ditch.
Alice stepped through the front door, banging her toe against Rod’s dusty helmet. “Shit,” she yelled, slipping her foot out of the flip flop, nursing her toe as Gena caught up the spinning helmet. Straightening, Alice looked at her friend.
Gena’s eyes went wide. “It’s too quiet in here,” she whispered.
Alice nodded. “Hello, Mom?”
The stairs creaked. Rod stepped out from the shadows. “Yes, dear?”
“What are you doing here? Where’s my mother?”
“Who knows?” He wiped his palm across his sweaty forehead. His shirt hung loose over his dusty jeans; his tousled brown hair topped a drunken smirk on his face. “Looks like your friend’s going first.” He nodded at Gena holding his helmet.
Gena lurched forward, shoving the red globe at him. He stumbled against the wall. “Hey, what gives?
“Where’s her sister?”
“Fixing up her new room. Came to see you, Red. Could have told me you moved.”
Gena shouted. “You’re full of shit! You’re not here to see Alice. You’re hustling Christie. Jeez Louise, and I trusted you.”
Rod lifted his hands. “Just wait a minute! No harm in getting a tour. Next stop, Alice’s new place. Hell, I’ll even give Red a lift there.”
“Stop calling me Red.”
“I think you’d better leave now,” Gena said.
Christie bolted down the stairs, her cheeks flushed, mousey-brown hair tangled into a rat’s nest. “What are you doing here, Stupid?”
“You okay?”
Christie pushed her hair aside. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Alice turned to Rod. “She’s only fourteen, you know?”
“I would have guessed her older than you.”
“Get out,” Alice hissed, “before I call the police.”
Rod crossed his arms over his chest, planting himself defensively before Alice. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She shoved him. “I said get out!”
“Bitch!” he yelled, as he stepped out onto the front porch, hocked and spat into the bushes.
“Forget about calling me,” Gena shouted. “Who’d ever want to date a pervert like you anyway?”
“A slut like you!”
Alice was about to slam the door when Christie darted in front of her. “Call me,” she yelled and just as quickly wheeled about, slamming her fist into Alice’s shoulder. “Take that, Stupid.”
Gasping, Alice grabbed her arm. “What did you do that for?”
“You ruin everything. And now you got Gena ruining things too. You’re both stupid.”
“That hickey on your neck will piss Dad off.”
“What?” Christie grabbed her neck and leapt for the mirror.
“Just kidding. Now who’s stupid?”
Christie’s face turned scarlet. “I hate you. I hate you both!”
“Just dump the asshole," Gena said. “He’s using you.”
“No, he’s not! We’re in love.”
Alice looked at Gena. “Just watch. She’ll end up like Belle.”
“Will not. Just shut up!” Christie turned and ran up the stairs.
Alice called after her. “Where’s Mom?”
Christie yelled back, “Who do you think’s running the store?”
“That’s it—onion rings,” Gena mumbled.
“What?” Alice said.
“Nothing. Let’s go. I’ll drop you at the store.”
The Mustang flew down South Hill Road, squealed around the corner at the drive-in and screeched to a stop on Lewis Road.
“Slow down. You nearly killed us once already today.”
“Sorry, I’m pissed.” Gena slowed, turning onto Main Street. “I can’t believe it, the two-timing bastard.”
“I can’t believe they were making out!”
“Doing it is more like it.”
“Gross! In my bed?”
“It’s no longer your bed. Your bed squeaks and gets stuffed behind double doors in the morning, remember?”
“It’s creepy. I’d be too scared to be alone with a guy?”
“I like being alone with guys.”
“Makes me nervous. Especially now.”
“Don’t be. It’s exciting. You remember the Fourth we shot off firecrackers with my cousins?” Gena asked.
“And Officer Wise showed up. How could I forget? That was the summer I got the scourge.”
Gena smiled. “Tommy was the bad boy of the family. He taught me how to French.”
“Didn’t your mother ever warn you about inbreeding?”
“We only kissed, unlike your sister. He was my first crush. Sunstar sort of reminds me of Tommy. They’re both teases, you know.”
“When Mom finds out Christie had a boy over, she’ll have a fit and fall in it.”
Gena squealed to a stop in front of the hardware store. “Don’t forget, Trent Cafe at noon.”
“Right, chocolate sodas. See you then.” Alice jumped out. She stepped away from the car as Gena speed off. A police car pulled out from the Town Tavern parking lot, lights flashing.
The screen door banged shut behind her, clanging the overhead bell and causing her mother to look up from the green ledger. She snubbed out her cigarette in an overflowing ashtray and strode around the counter, eyes flashing like lightning.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Don’t hi me. It’s a damn wonder you’d show your face around here.”
“I came to tell you what happened,” Alice said, crossing to where her frazzled mother leaned against the counter, her gray pedal-pushers and orange sleeveless shirt dirt smudged, her hair limp with heat.
Alice pulled up a metal stool and sat watching her mother stare back at her like a carrion crow.
“Make it good,” she said, lighting another Viceroy.
“Looks like I’m already guilty.”
“How could you call the police on your own father? Dammit, Alice! The town worships him. This will ruin our business.”
“I thought you were on my side.”
Her mother took a deep draw off her cigarette, flicked ash onto the floor. “You’re the most selfish girl I know,” she said, smoke seeping from her nostrils. “Would it kill you to con
sider the rest of us once in a while?”
Alice rocked her hips off the tenderness of her injured bottom. She imagined being pummeled by the backwash at Carl’s Crossing, tossed against the cement pilings until her body went limp and floated off.
“Judy Wise is the town gossip. Your dad’s name is as good as mud.”
Alice threw her arms over her chest, feeling like a child about to throw a tantrum. Her hand drifted to the cross she had found in exposed river sludge. “He cracked the glass in my door. He would have been inside jerking me around in no time.”
Alice’s mother raised one eyebrow. “Maybe if you’d invited him in, you would have saved us all some heartache. Ever think of that? He’s your father, for heaven’s sake!”
Alice’s voice caught on the knot in her throat as she spoke. “You said you believed me. Why are you acting like this?”
“Blubbering won’t do you any good. Imagine my shock, worried half-to-death all night and then getting a call from Officer Wise. I’m mad as hell! And so is your father. To think you had a boy over.”
“Sunstar came over to watch the storm with Gena and me. He left right after the fiasco. Ask Gena.” Alice wiped tears from her cheeks. “Wake up, Mom. Dad’s the bad guy here, not me. He should be in jail for molestation, not drunk and disorderly.”
“Lower your voice. Someone might hear.”
Anger jumped from Alice’s belly. “Nobody’s shutting me up any longer! I wish the store was full of people right now. I’d tell them all what he did.”
“He didn’t do anything. You’re the one inviting boys in without a chaperone.”
“That’s more Christie’s style. Before I came here, I stopped by the house. Rod was in her bedroom when I got there.”
Alice’s mother gasped. “Now you’re just being ridiculous!” She jammed her hands onto her hips and strode around the counter. “You had to have led him on!”
Alice bit her thumbnail until it bled.
“Don’t bite your nails.”
She dropped her hand. “The first time he touched me was right back there in the storage room. I was only six.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Swear on a stack of bibles.”
The screen door squeaked; the bell jangled. Alice’s mother looked past Alice, eyes flashing like she was about to wring someone’s neck. “It’s that woman!”
Alice looked around to see Miss Green slouching across the store, dressed in the same saggy green dress she always wore. She turned quickly back. “That’s my neighbor,” she whispered.
“Where are the fans, Vi?” Miss Green snapped.
Alice’s mother pointed with her cigarette to the side wall. “There, Stella.”
“You know her?”
“She’s a trouble maker. You stay away from her.”
“I can’t avoid her. She lives next door.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Whatever. I’d better go. I’m meeting Gena for lunch. What’re you going to do now?”
“Hold down the fort until your father’s out of jail. When you come in tomorrow, take down those hoses and sprinklers; wash the shelves with ammonia water.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
A stack of lawn chairs crashed to the floor. “Goddamn! Not now, Alice. I’m busy.”
“Fine. I don’t work here anymore. Tell Dad to get someone else to sweep up after him.” Alice wheeled about and stomped out.
Outside the store, Alice leaned against the vegetable rack, calming herself. She half-hoped if she turned to look, her mother would be standing on the other side of the screen; she would call Alice back apologetically and offer her a plan to save her from her abusive father. She listened to the fading bell, but no other sounds emerged.
The day was heating up. She drew her fingers across her upper lip, wishing she’d worn shorts. She was about to step out into the hot sun when she turned to look for her mother again. But she was alone, her own angry reflection staring back from the dusty store window. Her heart swam with tears of loneliness.
Blustering, she bolted out from between the plant shelves, running head-on into Stephen.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hey, what’s the big hurry?” he asked.
“Oh, hi. I’m meeting Gena for lunch.”
He held her at arm’s length. “You’re crying?”
Alice looked at the ground. “There’s dust in my eyes. That’s why I didn’t see you. The sun’s too bright today.”
Stephen’s hands felt soft against her shoulders. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Looking down, she focused on Stephen’s overly white tennis shoes. Almost immediately, Alice got the giggles; Stephen was wearing Converse tennis shoes with black slacks.
“What’s so funny?”
“Kind of sporty shoes for slacks, don’t you think?”
“Too offensive for me to join you?”
Alice laughed. “It’s okay. Come on.”
Dropping his hands from her shoulders, Stephen stuffed them into his pockets. She swore he was blushing from embarrassment rather than red-cheeked from the heat.
“You on duty?”
“House calls.”
“It’s too hot for long pants. Thought the rain would have cooled it down some today, but it’s another scorcher.”
Stephen grabbed open the door to the café. “After you, Miss Sharp.”
As she entered the café, she brushed against him. The heat threatened to come into her cheeks once again. She faced the floor fan to avoid being found out.
“Sit anywhere,” Angie called from behind the counter. She bobbed the metal milkshake cup around the whirring mixer, and then filled a tall glass.
“That one,” Stephen said, brushing hair off his forehead. “Where the fan breeze hits.”
“Sure,” Alice agreed, continuing to avoid Stephen's gaze, following him to the red plastic booth, sliding in opposite him. Her mouth watered over the smell of the burnt coffee and sweet vanilla shakes. She realized she hadn’t eaten a thing since pizza the night before.
“Wonder what’s taking Gena?” She looked out the window just as Officer Wise turned down Main Street. Her father was hunched over in the back seat. She hid her face with her hand and turned quickly away.
Luckily, Stephen was watching Angie swish across the café toward them, carrying menus and glasses of water.
“How ya doing, Hon? Keeping busy at the hardware store?”
“I don’t work there any longer. You know Pastor Smith?”
“Sure do,” Angie said, winking and setting two ice waters on the table between them. “How’s it going, Pastor?”
“Good. Angie here makes a mean shake, Alice. Have one. I’m buying.”
“No thanks.”
Stephen grinned at Angie, grabbed his water, and downed it in four long gulps. He pushed his empty glass toward the waitress for a refill.
Alice felt a sudden urge to spill the slushy ice down the front of Angie’s uniform.
“Back with a fill-up,” Angie said, her red lips smiling, inviting.
“And another place setting for Gena,” Alice said, remembering those same red lips sucking Camels out in front of the café. Who did she think she was, flirting with her Stephen?
Stephen leaned across the table. “Wasn’t that your dad in the patrol car?”
Alice’s heart lurched into her throat. “I didn’t see anything.”
“You looked right at him.”
Alice shrugged. “Guess he needed a ride home.”
“In a patrol car?”
Alice bit her lip, looked at the table.
Rushing up, Angie refilled their water glasses. “What’ll it be, Hon?”
“Stop calling me Hon,” Alice snapped.
“Sorry, Sweetie.”
Alice sighed, “I’m not hungry.” She went back to looking out the window for Gena.
“I’ll have the usual,” Stephen said. “Bring her a milkshake. Chocolate.”
“You got it,
Pastor.”
The sound of Angie’s swishing dress faded. Alice leaned across the table and whispered, “She leaves dirty cigarette butts all over our sidewalk; you know, we got to keep the town nice for visitors.”
Stephen smiled in a way that Alice imagined was a reminder of some scripture that said it wasn’t nice to say mean things about people. Frowning, she looked away.
“Relax. She’s not my type. Now back to your father.”
“Okay, I lied. It was him. He spent the night in jail. Guess he’s home by now.”
“Why lie?”
“Because,” she snapped, twisting her napkin into a tight wad. “It’s stupid and embarrassing. I don’t want anyone to know.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m with you, Alice. If something’s wrong, tell me.”
Alice pulled away her hand and sipped her water. “I moved into my own apartment yesterday. Dad’s pissed about it. He got rip-roaring drunk last night and tried to break into my place. He cracked the glass in the door.”
“And?”
“And I called the cops. I didn’t know what else to do. He’s going to hurt me again, I just know it.” Alice looked into Stephen’s concerned face, making her eyes plead for understanding. He brushed back his hair, holding her eyes with his. She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, glancing down at the table. She’d have to tell him about the rape sooner or later.
“That day I caught him tugging at your necklace—was he hurting you?” he asked, curling his hands into fists, pushing his knuckles together.
“That was nothing. Last night, I think he would have killed me if he’d gotten in. I could see it in his eyes.”
“Town thinks well of him.”
“Yeah, right! Nobody knows what he’s really like. He orders me around, criticizes me, pits Christie against me, and threatens me.”
Angie brought their food. “Oops, forgot your silverware. Don’t look like your friend’s coming anyhow. Get ya anything else?”
“That’s all,” Stephen said.
“Enjoy your lunch,” she said, pulling the ticket from her apron pocket, dropping it on the table along with two peppermints.
“Thanks for the shake.” Alice leaned forward and sipped the sweet, cold drink. “I’m always sweeping up her cigarette butts. It just irks me.”