I spit on your graves

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I spit on your graves Page 10

by Vian, Boris, 1920-1959


  "But Lou is just a kid."

  "Sure, sure. All you've got to see is the way she dresses. And the perfumes she uses show how innocent she is. I say you've got to tell Lou. You've got to have somebody to be able to keep in touch with your parents indirectly."

  -135-

  Boris Vian

  "I'd rather nobody knew about it."

  I laughed sarcastically.

  "You're not so proud of the guy you hooked, eh?"

  Her mouth began to tremble and I thought she was going to cry. She got up.

  "Why are you so mean to me? Does it give you pleasure to hurt me? I don't want anybody to know because I'm afraid."

  "Afraid of what?"

  "Afraid you'd leave me before we got married."

  I shrugged.

  "Do you think being married would stop me if I wanted to leave you."

  "If we had a baby it would."

  "If we had a baby I wouldn't be able to get a divorce so easy, that's all. But that wouldn't stop me from leaving you if I felt that way."

  She finally broke into tears. She fell back into her chair and lowered her head, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. I saw that I was going a bit too fast, so I went over to her. I put my hand on the back of her neck and caressed it softly.

  "Oh, Lee!" she cried, "Everything is so different from what I expected it to be. I thought you'd be happy to have me all for

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  I Spit on Your Graves

  yourself."

  I said something silly, and then she began to vomit. I didn't have anything around and I had to run to the back room to get a rag that the cleaning woman used to dust the place with. I wondered if it was the baby that made her sick. When she'd stopped heaving, I wiped her face with her handkerchief. Her eyes were clear and shiny with tears, and she breathed with difficulty. She'd gotten her shoes dirty, and I wiped them with a piece of paper. The smell bothered me, but I bent over her and kissed her. She crushed me to her and poured out a torrent of words of endearment. I had never had any luck with her. Always sick, either from having drunk too much or screwed too much.

  "You'd better leave," I said. "Go home. Take care of yourself. Then, get your things together and take off. I'll come to you next Monday. I've already got the ring."

  This surprise cheered her up again, and she smiled incredulously.

  "Lee, do you mean it?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Oh, Lee, I'm crazy about you. I know we're going to be very happy."

  She didn't have a trace of bitterness. Most girls aren't that easy. 1 stood her up and

  -137-

  Boris Vian

  caressed her breasts through her dress. She became tense and arched herself. She wanted me to keep it up. I wanted to air out the place, but she held me tight and with one handun-buttoned my pants. I lifted her dress and put her on the long counter where my customers left the books they'd looked at. She closed her eyes and looked dead. When I felt her relax I kept it up until she began to moan. I went off on her dress, and then she sat up suddenly lifting her hand to her mouth, and vomited again.

  And then I put her on her feet again and buttoned her coat. I carried her almost up to her car, going through the store's side entrance and I set her down behind the wheel. She looked deathly sick, but she still had strength enough to bite my lower lip till the blood came. I didn't complain. I then watched her drive off. I think her car knew the road, and it was lucky for her.

  Right after that I went upstairs to my room and took a bath to get rid of the smell.

  -138-

  I Spit on Your Graves

  XVII

  Until that minute I hadn't thought of all the complications my plan to kill both of the girls would bring about. For a moment I felt like dropping the whole business and go on just selling my books and earning a good living. But I had to do something for the kid, and for Tom, and for my own sake too. I know some men more or less like me who try to forget their blood and who go over to the side of the whites for all purposes, not even having the decency to refrain from knocking the colored race when the occasion demands it. I could kill men like that with a lot of pleasure, but I had to do things in the proper order.

  First the Asquith girls. I'd had plenty of chances to knock off the others : the kids I fooled around with, Judy, Jicky, Bill and Betty, but they didn't interest me too much. They weren't important enough. The Asquiths would be my first test-case. Then after I'd gotten that over with, I thought I'd go after something really big. Maybe a senator, or something like that. I'd have to have plenty to keep myself calm. But I had to think things over a little about how I'd get away with it, once I had those two dead females on my hands.

  -139-

  Boris Vian

  The best thing to do would be to make it look like an auto accident. People would wonder what they were doing all the way down there near the border, but they'd stop wondering after the autopsy, when they'd find out that Jean was pregnant. Lou they'd figure, had just gone along with her sister. And me, I wouldn't be anywhere around. Except that when the whole business was over, I expected to let their parents in on it. They'd know that their darling daughter had got it from a "nigger." Then I would have to find a new stamping grounds and start in all over again. A crazy plan, but the craziest are the ones that usually work out, I was sure that Lou could be made to come down there with us. I had a lot of power over her. Then an auto ride with her sister. Jean driving, and then a fainting-spell. What could be more natural? I'd have plenty of time to jump out. I shouldn't have any trouble finding a spot where it would work out in the kind of country we were going to. Lou'd be up front with her sister, and me in back. Lou first, and if Jean saw it and let go the wheel, that's all I'd need.

  Except that I wasn't too enthusiastic about this auto business. First of all, it's an old gag. And besides, it would be too quick. I wanted to have time to tell them why, and I

  -140-

  I Spit on Your Graves

  wanted them to know I had them, to know in advance what was coming to them.

  The auto.. .I'd leave that for later, to finish up with. I thought I had it. First take them to a quiet spot. There give them the dope, and then let them have it. Then put them back in the car and stage the accident. Just as easy and a lot more satisfactory to me. I wondered if it would be so easy.

  I still thought a lot about it. I began to get nervous. Once I was going to throw the whole business out the window and decided it wouldn't come off the way I expected it to, and then I remembered the kid. And I remebered my last conversation with Lou. I'd begun to prepare the ground with her, and that made it more definite. It was worth running the risk. If I could, I'd use the car. If not, so what. The border wouldn't be too far away and they don't kill you for that in Mexico. I think I must have had that plan in my head all the time, more or less vaguely, and I was just now beginning to realize what I wanted to work out.

  I drank a lot of whiskey those days. My brain was in a fury. I got some other tools besides the bullets. I bought a pick and a shovel and some rope. I still didn't know I'd be able to work it out the way I'd just figured

  -141-

  Boris Vian

  it. If yes I'd need the bullets. If no, then the other things would be useful. Then too, the pick and shovel gave me a sense of security with respect to another little idea that had crossed my mind. I think that anybody who intends to commit a crime is wrong if he figures out all the details in advance. I think you've always got to trust to luck. But you've got to have the necessary tools on hand when luck strikes. I don't know if I was wrong not to figure it out exactly, but when I thought over all I'd heard about such auto accidents, the idea appealed to me less and less. I hadn't considered one important factor : that of time. I'd have plenty of time and didn't worry too much about that. Nobody'd know where we were going and I thought Lou wouldn't tell anybody, if our last conversation had had any effect on her. I'd know that as soon as I got there.

  And then, at the
very last minute, about an hour before I was about to start, a sort of fright came over me, and I began to wonder if I'd find Lou when I got there. That was the most horrible moment I've ever lived through. I sat at the table and drank. I don't know how many drinks, but my brain remained as clear as though Ricardo's stuff had been changed into rainwater. I also saw very clearly just

  -142-

  I Spit on Your Graves

  what I had to do, as clearly as I'd seen Tom's face when the gas-can had blown up in the kitchen. I went down to the drug-store and got in to the phone booth. I dialed the operator and asked for long distance and then for Prixville and got through right away. The chamber-maid told me Lou would be there in a second, - there she was.

  "Hello," she said.

  "This is Lee Anderson. How are you?"

  "What's the matter?"

  "Jean gone away, hasn't she?"

  "Yes."

  "You know where she went?"

  "Yes."

  "She told you?"

  I heard her laugh bitterly. "She put a pencil mark around the ad for the place in the newspaper."

  Lou wasn't a dumb one. I suspected she knew all about it from the beginning.

  "I'm coming to get you," I said.

  "You're not going to go after her?"

  "Yes, but with you."

  "I don't want to go."

  "You know perfectly well you're going.'

  She said nothing so I went on.

  "It'll be a lot easier if I take you away."

  "But why go after her?"

  -143-

  Boris Vian

  "After all we've got to tell her."

  "Tell her what?"

  It was my turn to laugh.

  "I'll remind you of that while we're riding. Now get your things ready and come along.

  "Where should I wait for you."

  "I'm just leaving. I'll be there in a couple of hours."

  "With your car?"

  "Yes. Wait in your room. I'll honk three times."

  "I'll see."

  "I'll be right over."

  I didn't wait for her to answer, and hung up. I pulled out my handkerchief to wipe my forehead. I got out of the booth. The operator called me back for overtime. I paid and went back upstairs. I'd already put my stuff in the car, and had my money on me. I'd written a letter to the main office explaining that I had to leave suddenly to see a sick brother. Tom would forgive me that. I don't know what I expected to do with that bookstore job. It didn't worry me too much. I wasn't cutting anything much off from me. Until then I'd always been able to live without any trouble, and I'd never felt insecure in any way at all, but this business was beginning to get me

  -144-

  I Spit on Your Graves

  wrought up and things weren't going as well as usual. I wished I was already down there to straighten out everything and get something else to do. I can't stand being in the middle of a job, and it was the same with this business. I looked around to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. I picked up my hat, went out and locked the door. I kept the key. My car was waiting for me a block away. I turned the ignition and took off. As soon as I was out of town, I stepped hard on the gas and let her ride.

  -145-

  Boris Vian

  XVIII

  It was damn dark on the highway, and I was glad there wasn't too much traffic. Mostly trucks, going the other way. Nobody much going my way. I let her rip. The motor roared like a tractor and the thermometer was way up around two hundred, but I pushed her all the same and she stood up.

  I just wanted to calm down. After about an hour of that racket I felt better and I slowed down to the point where I could hear some of the other noises of the chassis.

  The night was cold and somewhat damp. You could feel that winter was coming, but I left my coat in my valise. Lord, I can't remember when I ever felt warmer. I watched the road-signs, but the road wasn't complicated. Every now and then I passed a gas-station or a row of shacks, and then just the road. Sometimes an animal scooted across the road, and I passed plots of fruit trees and some wheat fields, or nothing at all.

  I figured on two to cover the hundred miles. As a matter of fact, it was really a hundred and eight or nine, not counting the time lost getting out of Buckton and riding around

  -146-

  I Spit on Your Graves

  their grounds when I got there. I was out at Lou's place in an hour and a half, or maybe a minute more. I'd asked the car for all it could give. I think Lou must have been ready so I slowed down almost to a stop passing the gate. I got as close to the house as possible and I pressed the horn-button three times. At first I didn't hear a thing. I couldn't see her window from where I was, but I didn't dare get out, and I didn't want to honk again lest I rouse up somebody.

  I just sat there and waited, and I saw that my hands were trembling when I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I threw it away a couple of minutes later and then I hesitated as to whether I should signal again with my horn. And then, just as I was about to get out, I felt that she was on her way, and I turned around and saw her coming up to the car.

  She had on a light coat, didn't have any hat, and carried a big leather handbag which looked as though it was going to bust, and nothing else. She got in and sat down next to me without saying a word. I closed the door bending over her, but I didn't try to kiss her. She was as cold as an icicle.

  I took off and turned around to get back on the highway. She stared at the road straight ahead of her. I looked at her out of the corner

  -147-

  Boris Vian

  of my eye and I thought that once we had gotten out of town things ought to go better. I did another hundred miles at top speed. We began to feel that we were getting there. The air was drier and the sky was brighter. I still had another five or six hundred miles to go.

  I couldn't keep on sitting beside her and just say nothing. Besides her perfume had filled the car. In a way it got me terribly excited, since it brought back to mind the picture of her standing in her bedroom with her torn panties and lynx eyes. I heaved a loud sigh so she'd notice it. She seemed to sort of wake up, to come back to life sort of, and I tried to create a more cordial atmosphere—her chilliness still bothered me.

  "Cold?"

  "No," she said.

  She shivered, and that made her even madder. I decided she was trying to put on an act of jealousy, but I was too busy driving to try to do much about it, that is by talking, especially if she continued to be so unresponsive. I let go the wheel with my right hand and bent over to the glove compartment. I dug out a bottle of whiskey and laid it in her lap. I also found a bakelite cup there. I put that in her lap next to the bottle, shut the glove compartment and then switched on the radio.

  -148-

  I Spit on Your Graves

  I should have thought of that earlier, but I was too wrought up.

  What bothered me was the thought that I still had the whole job to pull off. Fortunately she took the bottle, screwed off the cap, poured herself a shot and tossed it down. I stretched out my hand. She filled the glass again and drained it herself. Only then did she pour one for me. I didn't even taste what I was drinking and I gave her back the glass. She put everything back into the glove compartment, stretched herself out on the seat and unbuttoned the two big buttons on her coat. She was wearing a suit with a short skirt and long coat-lapels. She unbuttoned the jacket too. Underneath she had on a lemon colored sweater right on her skin and for safety's sake,^ I forced myself to look at the road.

  The car now smelt of perfume and whiskey and cigarette smoke, a combination that made my head reel. I didn't open the windows however. We maintained our silence. At least a half an hour went by. Then she opened up the glove compartment again and had a couple of more drinks. She felt hot now and took off her coat. As she did it, and came close to me, I bent over a little and kissed her neck, just below the ear. She jerked away suddenly and turned around and stared at me. And

  -149-


  Boris Vian

  then she burst into laughter. I guess the whiskey was beginning to take effect. I drove another fifty miles without saying anything, and then I decided to try again. She'd had some more drinks.

  "Don't feel right?"

  "Good enough," she said in a drawl.

  "Don't feel like going out with me, do

  you:

  ter?"

  she?"

  "Oh, don't mind."

  "Don't feel like seeing your darling sis-

  "Don't talk to me about my sister."

  "She's a nice girl."

  "Yeah, and she's good to screw, isn't

  That took my breath away. If any of the others had said that I'd hardly have noticed, Judy, B.J, or Jicky But not Lou. She saw I was startled and laughed until I thought she'd choke. You could see she'd been drinking from the way she laughed.

  "Isn't that the way you say it?"

  "Yes," I agreed. "That's it, alright."

  "And isn't that what she does?"

  "I don't know."

  She laughed again.

  "It's no use, Lee. I'm too old to believe that you get yourself a baby by kissing some

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  I Spit on Your Graves

  body on the mouth."

  "Who said anything about a baby?"

  "Jean is going to have a baby."

  "Are you sick or something?"

  "There's no sense lying to me, Lee. I know all about it."

  "I didn't sleep with your sister."

  "Yes you did."

  "I didn't. And even if I had, she isn't going to have any baby."

  "Why is she sick all the time?"

  "She was sick at Jicky's house, and after all, she didn't have a baby then. You sister's got a delicate stomach."

  "And what about the rest of her? That isn't too delicate, is it?"

  Then she suddenly unleashed on me a hail of blows with her fists. I pulled my head back into my shoulders and I stepped on the gas. She hit down at me with all her strength. It wasn't much but I felt it all the same. She didn't have much muscles, but she had the strength of her anger. And then she'd gotten plenty of build up playing tennis. When she stopped I just shook myself.

 

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