I laid my bike in the grass and walked over to the swing set, oblivious to anything or anyone else around me, until someone called my name. I looked up, completely startled to see Mr. Banks sitting on a bench with Mattie’s stroller in front of him. He tilted his head to the side and stared at me straight on, as if trying to figure me out, as if seeing all the confusion that was muddling my mind. Then he smiled and motioned me over to him.
I sauntered his way like a pouty child.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I said back, sitting beside him.
I smiled at Mattie, put my foot on the front of the stroller, and pushed it back and forth.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.
I forced a laugh. “They’d cost you a lot more than a penny.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “It’s the best I can do.”
I looked away, staring down the street.
“No takers?” he said.
I didn’t answer.
“You did really well at tryouts,” he told me.
I felt myself grin, kind of small and embarrassed.
“Really well,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He held the five-dollar bill in front of me. “I can’t interest you?”
“I’m okay,” I said.
He took the bill, rolled it up, then reached his arm behind the bench and tucked the bill into my shorts pocket. “What happened to the bright-eyed Thespian I saw last night?”
I startled at first and thought about giving his money back to him, but shrugged my shoulders instead. “I don’t know.”
“Where are your friends?”
“Off somewhere. I saw them earlier. I’m supposed to be working.”
“You work for your dad?”
“Yeah. I was out making a delivery.”
“Taking a breather?”
“Guess so.”
“I’m a good listener.” His arm was still over the back of the bench, but it didn’t feel weird. It felt nice, and I thought maybe he was a good listener, that maybe he cared a little bit about how I was feeling, only I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, other than confused.
“I’ll tell you what. I have to get Mattie home. I’ll be up at the high school this afternoon getting some things ready for the play. Stop by if you change your mind and want to talk.” He leaned his head forward, trying to get me to make eye contact. “Okay?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. He stood to go.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” He looked at me for a few seconds more as if making sure I was okay, then pushed the stroller in front of him and turned toward the road.
Lights, Action!
I finished up at Daddy’s shop early, sometime around three. I could have found Evie and Mary Jordan or ridden my bike back to the house or gone over to the grocery store and bought one of the books I’d been reading, but instead I rode my bike to the high school. Maybe I wanted to talk to Mr. Banks, or maybe I just wanted that feeling again of someone older and wiser, someone who noticed when something was wrong. I couldn’t remember the last time my parents had done that. They’d talk and maybe listen if I went to them and said I needed to talk, but this was different. This was someone noticing me, kind of like a soft mattress you can sink into when you’re not feeling very good. And maybe it was more than that, too. Mr. Banks was probably the best-looking man who had ever spoken more than two words to me. It was thrilling, pure and simple.
As I rode up the driveway to the school, I saw his car out front. No one else was there. I left my bike in the rack at the edge of the parking lot and headed up the steps. The door was unlocked. The auditorium was through the commons area. The squeaking of my sneakers against the slick floor seemed to echo, the building was so quiet, and I thought how quickly that would change in a couple more months.
Inside the auditorium, the stage lights were on, but I didn’t see Mr. Banks. I walked toward the front row and sat down, wondering for the first time if I should have come.
“Lucy.” He’d been off to the side of the stage, his bare feet almost silent against the wood floor. “I’ve been sorting through some of the props,” he told me.
He jumped off the edge of the stage, then walked over and sat beside me, planting his feet in front of him so that his knees squared off to the sides, lightly touching mine. I didn’t pull away.
“I wasn’t sure you’d stop by,” he said. “Decided to talk after all?”
I remained quiet, not sure what to say.
“You know, I was a teenager once.”
He was trying to be funny. I laughed a little.
“Really,” he said, bumping his knee against mine.
I laughed a little more.
He sat up straighter.
“So I was wondering, you think I’ll fit in here?” he asked.
I was surprised by his question. “Sure. Why wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Small town and all.”
“Do you like it here?” I asked.
He nodded his head slowly, as if he was thinking. “I especially like some of the people.”
His face turned toward mine. I was staring forward at the stage. For a moment I thought he was flirting, but I told myself he couldn’t be flirting. He was a teacher. He was just being nice.
“So what was on your mind today?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Hasty recovery?” he said.
“I guess so.”
He reached for my hand and stood. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
I felt honored and devious all at the same time, a sensation of warmth and curiosity as his fingers held mine.
We climbed onto the stage, him still holding my hand.
“Over here,” he said.
I followed him offstage to a large room where the high school kept its costumes and props.
“Looks like they performed Cleopatra at one time,” he said, lifting our hands toward a black wig with thickly cropped bangs on a Styrofoam head. “Or The Princess Bride,” he said. He let go of my hand and reached for a headdress with a long silk veil the color of icy pink. He placed the headdress on my head and lifted the veil away from my face.
“You’ll make a beautiful Hermia,” he said.
Hermia was the biggest part in the play, and he thought I’d be right for the role? I hadn’t even wanted to try out for the play. Part of me was happy. Part of me said I was somewhere I shouldn’t be, and yet another part of me didn’t want to leave, like when you know something is bad, but you want to see just how close to the bad thing you can get because you’re not completely sure it’s bad.
“I should probably go,” I finally said. I removed the headdress and handed it to him.
“Hold on, I’ll walk out with you.” He set the headdress on the shelf. “Why don’t you get the stage lights. I’ll close things up in here.”
I left the prop room and went to find the light switches, guessing they must be somewhere behind the curtains. I was right. I flicked each one off, only to find myself standing in total darkness. My own house had never felt so dark. So dark, I didn’t see him approach me, didn’t notice his hand reaching for my chin, never even felt the air change. One second I was thinking how dark everything was, and in another second his fingers were touching my chin. I gasped, pulled back. “What are you doing?”
Just as I was about to say I had to get going, just as I was about to turn away, I felt the heat of his body move closer to mine. I knew I should step away or scream or something, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t move, either. Instead, I let him move closer, my mind telling me one thing, and my southern region telling me another. No matter how much I tried to tell my body to stop feeling so good, it went right on feeling the way it wanted. And all the while my mind and body were conversing, Mr. Banks kept moving closer, pressing himself into me, touching my hips with his fingers, the
n sliding his fingers into the back pockets of my shorts. I couldn’t see his face, but before I knew it, his lips were touching mine, as light as a feather at first. One kiss, then another. And the third kiss a little harder, more urgent, his tongue searching for mine. I knew if I didn’t get out of there, I would surely collapse.
“I gotta go,” I said, using every bit of strength I had to muster those words out of me.
He drew slowly away, reached for my hand, held my limp fingers. I didn’t resist. My body felt like a rag. I was aroused and horrified all at the same time, swimming around in one big mess in my head, swimming and swimming and needing to come up for air.
He led me onto the stage and toward the steps. By now my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I pulled my hand away from his, descended the stairs, and walked up the aisle, running my fingers alongside the seats to steer me in the right direction, to keep my feet steady. He walked behind me.
As we entered the commons area, he said, “Do you need a ride?” his voice just as calm and casual as if nothing had happened.
I looked toward the front doors, stared through the glass. I didn’t see a living soul. “No. I rode my bike.”
We walked outside, the afternoon air thick. A mosquito instantly glued itself to my leg. I rubbed it off, smearing blood down my calf.
“I’m glad you decided to stop by,” he said. “I’ll see you later tonight.” He started down the steps toward the parking lot.
At first I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Play rehearsals were on Tuesday and Thursday nights. This was a Friday. I had that feeling a person can get when staring at something until the eyes no longer focus and everything becomes a blur. My mind was a blur. My vision was a blur, and somewhere behind all that blur Mattie and Savannah began to appear. I was supposed to babysit that night. In less than three hours, I was supposed to be at his house, and I had no earthly idea what I was going to do.
Germany
As I rode my bike home I felt like a stranger in my own skin. There was this awful, thick feeling strapped across my heart that I couldn’t get rid of. I didn’t want to claim it. But there was also something else stirring around inside me. I had liked kissing Mr. Banks. And that sensation made me feel like a stranger even more.
When I walked into the house, Mama was teaching piano lessons. I knew Daddy was still at the shop and would be playing golf after work. I went straight to my room and lay on the bed. A giant movie reel seemed to be playing in my head from beginning to end and back again, and I was the third party watching the whole thing in slow motion, watching the way Mr. Banks’s fingers had reached for me, watching the way he had pulled my body toward his. I shut my eyes, as if I shouldn’t watch, like a bad part in a movie that you know your parents don’t want you to see, but you look anyway. And then when it’s over, you feel guilty, but you also feel grown up. That’s when it hit me like a stab wound. Lying on my back, I drew my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs, and held myself, trying with all my might to keep a part of myself from slipping away, that lanky little girl perhaps, who had believed in flying reindeer and guardian angels. The part of me that didn’t want to grow up.
I’m not sure how long I held myself like that. Maybe a half hour. When I looked at the clock, it was almost five-thirty. I thought about calling the Bankses to tell them I couldn’t make it, and yet something inside me wouldn’t let me. I wanted to see him. Then I tried calling Evie, but she wasn’t home, so I left a message with her mom telling her where I’d be. I knew Mary Jordan was still in Beaufort at Doug’s baseball tournament.
I picked out some clean clothes from my dresser and went down the hallway to the bathroom. I filled the tub almost full, eased my body into the hot water, and slid my spine down the porcelain till the warm suds touched my chin. I stayed there until the water turned cool. Mama was now moving around in the kitchen. I realized almost seven hours had passed without my thinking of her and Mr. Savoi once.
As I dried myself off, she called me for supper. I knew I had to hold myself together. I couldn’t let her know what had happened, and hated the thought of what she would think of me.
Mama had cooked hamburgers with salsa. We ate at the small table in the kitchen. Daddy’s plate was wrapped in cellophane on the counter.
“How was everything at the shop?” she asked.
“Good,” I said. “Evie and Mary Jordan stopped by wearing costumes they’d picked out for the play. They performed practically an entire scene right there in front of everyone.”
“I hope you joined in,” Mama said.
“No, but Ms. Pitre did.”
Mama smiled. “Maybe I should have tried out.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I suppose I didn’t want to stand in the way of your opportunity. I wanted you to have something that was your own.”
I looked at the clock. “I have to get going. I’m babysitting for the Bankses.” I was half finished with my supper, but knew I couldn’t eat any more.
“I saw them in town yesterday,” Mama said. “They make such a nice-looking couple.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt jealousy or remorse. Either way, just hearing her say Mr. Banks’s name made my stomach feel like it had catapulted itself to the northernmost region of Canada, or maybe Iceland.
The Bankses lived a little over a mile from my house, which on that particular night seemed like a couple of states away. I don’t know how it is a person’s sweat can feel like the Arctic Ocean in the sultry heat of a Louisiana summer night, but mine did.
I leaned my bike against the house and walked up to the front door. Just as I raised my hand to knock, Mr. Banks called my name from behind. I turned around as he came jogging toward me from the driveway, wearing nothing more than his running shoes and nylon shorts. Before I knew it he was standing on the steps, his hot breath on my face. He reached around me and opened the door, then followed me inside.
“Savannah and Mattie will be home in a minute,” he said.
He was still breathing heavily from his run. I glanced at him just long enough to see the beads of sweat covering his bare chest.
“You look nice,” he said.
I was wearing a pair of white shorts and a red T-shirt. I looked down at myself as if I’d forgotten what I’d put on.
“Thanks.”
“You okay?”
“Sure,” I said.
His fingers reached up and brushed lightly against my arm. “Look, this afternoon … I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was thinking about the play, and then …”
“It’s okay.” I felt an edge to my voice and was certain he had heard it.
“You’re just so damn pretty,” he said.
Suddenly, all the tenseness in my body softened, melted like warm butter.
“You want something to drink?” he asked. “I think there’s some iced tea in the fridge.”
“No, thanks.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm. “I’m going to get a shower.”
After he left the room, I sat on the sofa, wondering why he was always taking a shower every time I came over.
I heard the water turn on and wished more than anything that Savannah and Mattie would walk in. And for a split second, which I’m embarrassed to admit might have been a little longer, I thought about Mr. Banks’s body in that shower, thought about the way his body had made mine feel. Then the water stopped, and I knew Mr. Banks was drying himself off, which got my blood swimming even more.
When he walked back into the living room, he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. He sat in the chair next to the sofa, his skin smelling strongly of Irish Spring soap.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” I said.
He combed his fingers through his wet hair, tilting his head down and leaving his hand on the crown of his head.
“If you weren’t my student, Lucy, and if you were just a little older….” He shook his
head back and forth.
“It wouldn’t matter,” I said.
He looked up at me, not understanding what it was I was saying. I wasn’t sure I understood what I was saying, either.
Still looking at me, he moved over to the sofa, his legs no more than three inches away from my own. I didn’t know what it was I’d said that made him move over next to me. While I was trying to figure it out, he took my hand in his and kissed me on the cheek. It wasn’t one of those little kisses like Papa Walter always gave me. When Mr. Banks’s lips touched my skin, they lingered there for a while, sending a quiet shudder through me, and for a moment I wanted him to kiss me again as he had earlier that day, even though everything in my head and my heart knew it was wrong.
“Lucy, you’re okay.”
Then he squeezed my hand.
I didn’t know if what he said meant, “You’re okay; I want to kiss you again,” or “You’re okay; I’m going to leave you alone from now on.” And because I didn’t know exactly what it was he meant, I also had no clue what I was supposed to say or do.
Fortunately, it didn’t matter a whole lot at that particular moment, because no sooner had he kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand than the door opened and in walked Savannah with Mattie in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other.
By the time they rounded the door, Mr. Banks had already let go of my hand and was just sitting there like he didn’t have a care in the world. With all the goods Savannah was carrying, I don’t think she noticed us at all.
It wasn’t until she’d put the groceries down on the kitchen counter, and Mr. Banks had walked over and taken Mattie from her arms, that she acknowledged me.
“Why, hey, Lucy,” she said, looking at me through the doorway.
“Hey, Savannah,” I said.
“I picked up a frozen pizza and some popcorn for you.”
I didn’t feel like eating, but I didn’t tell her so.
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