Looking for Julie

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Looking for Julie Page 9

by Jackie Calhoun


  Claire was sideways across the queen-size bed, which was where Edie wanted her. The tailboard would have made it impossible to slide off the bed onto the carpet as she had done at Claire’s and as she did now after kissing and tasting her way down Claire’s slender body. Claire was shaking when Edie spread her legs. She came quickly.

  Edie climbed back on the bed and would have kissed Claire’s mouth if Claire hadn’t turned her head. Instead, when her breathing slowed, Claire put a hand on Edie’s breast and said, “Wow.”

  Edie laughed, even though she felt big and awkward again and only wanted to put on her clothes.

  Claire went right to the source. She did not use her tongue, but Edie was so turned on from her own efforts that she came quickly. When it was over, she said, “Shall we get dressed and go now? I have a room reserved.”

  They did not talk much on the drive north. The headlights made a pathway through the dark. Snowy banks and tall pines and alders flashed by as Edie’s Focus parted the night. Claire had put the Escape in the garage, even though it had more room. Edie’s and Claire’s skis were bagged and tarp-hooked to the roof rack.

  “Tell me about your job,” Edie said.

  Claire talked a little about the library branch where she worked. “There’s not much to tell. I check in books, I check out books, I sometimes stack books, I work the reference desk when needed. Did you always want to be a writer?”

  “Yes, actually. I lucked into a publisher and that sort of set my course.” Now that the interstate had narrowed to two lanes, the headlights of passing vehicles flashed across their faces.

  She glanced at Claire, who was staring straight ahead. She had not met her eyes since they’d left Edie’s bed.

  “Are you hungry?” Edie asked, because she was. “We could stop at Jacobi’s.”

  “Sure.”

  Claire asked for a table in the far corner of the restaurant and sat with her back to the room. She ordered a glass of white wine.

  Edie studied her quietly.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Claire asked.

  “Because you’re across the table from me?” Edie was drinking water. She was afraid wine would put her to sleep. In her peripheral vision she was surprised to see Jennifer Gottschalk get up from a table of four. She hadn’t noticed her when they were seated. She was always comforted by Jennifer’s size, because there were few women as tall and big-boned as Edie.

  “Hey, I must have missed your e-mail,” she said with a smile as she approached. “Hello, Claire.”

  Edie glanced at Claire and thought, who would not remember her? “Sorry. This was sort of a spur-of-the-moment trip. Where are you skiing tomorrow?”

  “Winter Park.” Edie looked at Claire as if silently asking was this okay, but Claire would not meet her gaze. “And you?”

  “The same.” Jennifer had a warm smile, one that never failed to make Edie feel as if she were special. “You’re doing the Birkie, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “How about you, Claire?”

  “I’m not a great skier,” Claire said with a slight frown.

  “You don’t have to be. We’ve had first-year skiers take on the Kortelopet, which is a lot shorter and geared more toward recreational skiers.”

  “You could come and watch,” Edie suggested mildly. “It’s an event as much as a race.”

  “Really?” Claire’s smile was strained.

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow on the trails,” Jennifer said and returned to her table.

  “The American Birkebeiner is the largest, most exciting cross country ski race in North America, and it’s in northern Wisconsin.”

  “I know,” Claire said as if bored.

  Of course she knew, Edie thought, but she loved the Birkie. Over eight thousand skiers ranging from beginners to pros, from several states and countries would gather in the Hayward–Cable area along with some twenty thousand spectators. The Birkie was held in late February, and there was something for everyone. The fifty-four kilometer classic, the fifty kilometer freestyle, in which she would ski, the twenty-three kilometer Kortelopet for those not ready to tackle the longer races. There was even a separate race for kids.

  Claire ate half her steak and was nursing another glass of wine before Edie was halfway through her shrimp scampi. Edie felt greedy and rushed and ended up asking for a doggy bag. The food would stay cold in the car.

  “Ready?” she asked Claire, who jumped to her feet and pulled on her jacket.

  When they reached the motel, Edie took the ski bag off the roof and carried it and her backpack to the main desk, while Claire hung back, studying the brochures. She started down the hall, and Claire followed. The door swung open when she slid the card through the slot. The room was identical to the one she’d stayed in when she met Claire and Pam while skiing.

  Claire slipped past her and shut the door and slid the deadbolt in place. Edie tossed her backpack next to Claire’s on one of the queen-size beds. Claire looked at it and said, “I sleep better alone.”

  “Okay.” She threw her backpack on the other bed, too tired to even wonder at what she considered Claire’s strange behavior. It was so contradictory.

  They took turns in the bathroom and climbed into separate beds. Edie sighed at the feel of clean sheets. She was drifting off to the sound of snowmobiles when she thought Claire said something. “What?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I know something that would help.”

  “Really. What’s that?” Edie asked, although she knew and wondered who provided this service when she wasn’t around.

  “You know how to make me relax.”

  She lay quietly for a few moments, letting the tension grow. Then she gathered herself up and closed the narrow space between them, her heart thudding with anger and desire. She wondered at the two emotions, so disparate, flowing through her, and the excitement that accompanied them.

  When she lay down next to her, Claire whispered, “Cover me.” When she kissed her, Claire murmured, “I still have my nightshirt on.” Normally, the instructions would have turned her off, but for some reason, they had the opposite effect. She slowly worked her way down Claire’s body as she had before, brushing her smooth skin with her lips, tasting it with her tongue. She paused. Claire was already moving, and Edie looked up to see her head thrown back, her neck exposed. She reversed directions and Claire grew still under her. When she kissed her neck and tried to kiss her mouth, Claire turned her head away.

  In a grainy voice, she said, “Finish. Please.” And so Edie did, her knees on the floor, her arms around Claire’s legs, holding her as she jerked in response. When it was over, she pulled the covers over Claire and climbed into her own bed and slept.

  When the morning light awoke her, Edie brought coffee and doughnuts back from the lobby. Claire was sitting up in bed and after eating, she said quietly, “It’s better to do it before we shower. We won’t be sticky then.” Edie would have laughed if she hadn’t been slightly appalled at the desire that immediately consumed her. They left the motel around ten.

  Edie put on her boots and stepped into her bindings in the bright, cold morning. The snow was nearly flat in this expanse, and she dug in with her edges as she skate skied toward the beginning trail, pushing with her poles. Before she entered the woods, she realized that Claire was struggling to keep up. She paused and waited for her, knowing she was bigger and stronger. She did this several times, and while she was waiting at a juncture that led to the more advanced trails, Jennifer passed her, calling out, “Passing on the right, Edie.”

  Antsy to catch up with her, Edie took off, lengthening her stride, momentarily forgetting Claire. The sun’s rays streaked through the trees, temporarily blinding her, and she was far along on the expert trial when she finally stopped to wait for Claire.

  Snow-covered and furious, Claire caught up. “You could slow down for me,” she snapped. “Don’t just take off again.
This is too advanced for me.”

  “Sorry. I got carried away.” Moving kept her warm.

  “Let’s go back to the motel. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Look, I’ll get you off this trail and you can go back to the warming house. I have to ski if I’m going to do the Birkie.”

  She led the way to a crossover trail and told Claire to take it and follow the signs. She would deal with the anger later.

  They ordered a pizza that night, because Claire was too tired to go out. Edie guessed she was furious, because Edie hadn’t gotten back to the warming house until around four. She’d said nothing on the drive back to the motel and was sulking on the bed when Edie came back with the pizza.

  Edie set the food on the small table. “Hungry?” she asked and when Claire remained quiet said, “Well, I am,” and tore the greasy paper off the pizza.

  “I don’t want to sit in the warming house for hours tomorrow, waiting for you.” Claire’s voice was tight and low.

  “Then ski with me. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  “You can ski with Jennifer What’s-Her-Name next weekend. I don’t want to waste my time trying to catch up with you.”

  The first piece of pizza was halfway to her mouth, and she sighed. “I think it was you who suggested we go skiing together.” She took a bite out of the slice and it tasted so good that she kept eating till half the pizza was gone. “Come on over, Claire.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Claire said, fury evident in every word.

  “You gotta be kidding. You must be starving. Try some of this. It’s good.”

  Claire sat up and looked at her. “You have to eat because you’re so big.”

  She flushed. “Thanks for pointing that out. Why are we here anyway? Why did you call me?”

  “I don’t know. I won’t bother you again. Let’s go back.”

  “We’ll go back in the morning. I’m not driving in the dark. I’m too tired.” She stalked to the bathroom to wash her hands and when she came out, Claire was at the table.

  She ate two pieces before going to the bathroom and back to bed, while Edie pretended to read.

  “Come over here,” Claire said.

  Edie looked at her, trying to retain her anger. “Why?”

  “Because I want you.”

  Of course, she went.

  Chapter Seven

  Sam and Jamie were walking home from Chili Verde after midnight. When Jamie’s hair had changed from violet to blond, Bruce hired him. Nita had gone with Carmen to her place, and Karen was at the dorm studying for a test. A fierce wind tunneled toward them down the dimly lit street. Jamie stepped off the pavement to make a snowball, and a black truck pulled onto the sidewalk and blocked their progress.

  The window on the passenger side slid down and the driver asked, “Want a ride? It’s damn cold out there.”

  Jamie threw the snowball at the open window and nailed the white face leaning toward them. They froze as the door opened on the driver’s side.

  Jamie yelled, “Run!” They did, but Sam’s jacket caught on the high bumper.

  She heard it tear and paused to free it. The man’s arms closed around her, and his hand clapped over her mouth. “Don’t scream,” he said in her ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Paralyzed with fear, she wouldn’t have been able to yell if her life depended on it, and she figured it did. She saw Jamie skid to a stop and run back toward them. The man let go of her mouth and shoved an elbow in Jamie’s face and Jamie went down on the slippery sidewalk.

  That’s when Sam managed to scream. The man slapped her and her head snapped to the side. She couldn’t believe this was happening, to her, to them. Her cheek burned.

  “Git in the truck. Come on.” He pushed her, holding her up at the same time, shoving her toward the passenger door.

  Jamie scrambled to his feet and threw himself at the man, who kicked him in the shins, knocking his legs out from under him. When he was down, the man kicked him in the gut until Jamie curled into a ball on the icy sidewalk.

  Sam looked wildly around for someone to rescue them, but the street was deserted. Her captor smelled of sweat despite the cold. He had to let go of her with one hand to open the door. She fought fiercely, finally spinning out of his clutch, and dashed toward Jamie, who was again on his feet. “Run, run, run…” she shrieked.

  They dashed along the sidewalk away from Sam’s apartment. The man in the truck followed them. He called out the open window. “Scaredy cats. You can run all you want, but I’ll get you sooner or later.”

  When they came to an intersection, they sprinted toward a car idling at a red light. Out of control, Sam shouted, “Help, help, help.”

  The car was full of young guys in parkas, probably students. The windows rolled down and someone said, “Hey, what’s happening?”

  “Let us in,” Jamie yelled, pulling on the back door. “He’s gonna kill us.”

  “Hey, cool it,” one of them said. Another asked, “Why are you freaking out?” The person in the backseat next to the window opened the door. “Get in. The girl can sit on your lap.”

  The one in the middle leaned over and said to Jamie, “Somebody kick you in the face?”

  “Yes, the guy in the black truck.” There were five of them in the backseat now.

  “What black truck?”

  It was about eighty degrees in the small vehicle, but Sam was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. The truck was gone, but she was sure it was just around the corner. “It’s there, it’s there,” she said.

  “Hey, get it under control. Who’s gonna kill you?” the passenger up front asked.

  Jamie started talking about the black truck and the driver. How he waylaid them and elbowed his face and kicked him till he couldn’t breathe and tried to force Sam into the truck. How weeks ago this same guy had broken his nose. The others listened, although Sam thought Jamie’s tale sounded jumbled as he mixed up the earlier beating and this one and the first time they’d encountered the guy in the black truck.

  The driver interrupted him. “Where do you live?”

  Sam got out with Jamie at the dorm. She and Jamie hurried inside, took the stairs two at a time, locked his door and huddled on his bed. Jamie rocked back and forth, clutching his midriff.

  “I think he broke something,” he said. “How does my face look?”

  “Terrible.” It was swollen again and already turning colors. “Now what do we do?” She held herself with both arms, trying to stop the shaking. How could they safely walk home from work at night? “I thought you gave the cops his license plate number?”

  “No, I gave it to the doctor. Truckin something.” He pulled out his phone. “What number do I call about an assault? Nine-one-one?” He posed the same question to whoever answered and then whispered to Sam, “I’m being transferred to the police department,” where he launched into a detailed description of the assault. “I don’t know what kind of truck. Hang on.” He looked at Sam and she shook her head.

  “A black four-wheel drive,” she said.

  “We can’t come to the station. How would we get there? Can you send someone here? We’ll meet them in the lobby. We’re at Sellery Hall, one of the two towers. The other is Witte.” He spelled their names.

  Sam looked at him. “I don’t want to go sit in the lobby.”

  “Why don’t you call Karen? Maybe she’s still up. She can go with us.” His pupils were huge as she supposed hers were too. “I’ll call her,” he said when she didn’t answer.

  Karen had on her pink flannel pajama pants with cats on them and a rumpled T-shirt, and smelled of sleep. “Are you all right?” she asked, hugging Sam so tight that it almost hurt.

  Sam thought of her mindless screaming, the waving of her arms in the air as she ran. “I’m okay,” she said.

  There were two officers in the lobby when they got downstairs—a young man and a woman who looked a little older. After giving them a recap of the assault, Jamie said, “Didn’t anyone do an
ything about this last time it happened? I gave the license plate to the doctor. He said he’d report it. It’s Truckin something.”

  “What was the doctor’s name?” the woman officer asked. They’d given their names and showed their badges, but the names hadn’t registered with Sam.

  “I don’t remember, but I’d know him if I saw him,” Jamie said.

  “It looks like you need some medical assistance,” the woman said.

  Jamie touched his cheek gingerly. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Call this number and give one of us the plate name or number when you find out.” Again it was the woman officer who spoke.

  Her partner tore off a copy of the sheet he’d been writing on and handed it to Jamie. He said, “Go in groups and avoid lonely streets.”

  A chill galloped across Sam’s already cold skin. She tightened her hold on herself. Karen put an arm around her.

  “Goddamn, my face hurts,” Jamie said when the officers were gone. “Good thing I kept some of those pain meds.” He’d taken a couple of Tylenols with codeine before they left the room.

  “What if your cheekbone is broken?” Karen asked. “Shouldn’t you go to UHS now?”

  “There’s probably no doctor there. I’ll be all right till tomorrow. Besides, what do they do with a broken cheekbone? Put a cast on it?” His laugh was like a little yelp.

  Sam was talking to Julie in her head. He grabbed me. I knew he’d take me somewhere and rape and murder me and maybe stuff me under leaves. He’ll come back. I know he will. She was thinking how cold and lonely and humiliating it would be sprawled in the snow, naked from the waist down, even if she was dead.

  Later, she lay in Karen’s narrow bed, listening to Karen and her roommate breathe. Karen was curled against her, spoon-like, with an arm draped over her ribs. Sam was so incredibly tired and so wide-awake.

  In the morning, while Karen showered, Sam put on yesterday’s clothes, placing Karen’s borrowed T-shirt on the bed. Karen’s roommate, Lisa, had already gone to breakfast. Sam sat on the bed till Karen returned.

 

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