by Hixon, Wayne
“Anything interesting happen in Lynchville this week?” she asked.
“Does it ever?” her mother replied. She looked up from her paper, over her tortoise shell reading glasses. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“Could that skirt be any shorter?”
“That’s how all the kids wear them these days.”
“I guess. It’s a good time to be a boy. No wonder they’re getting dumber all the time. They probably have trouble concentrating.”
Autumn poured herself a cup of coffee, dumping a generous amount of milk and sugar into it. She leaned back against the counter. “So I might go over to Charlotte’s after school today.”
“By that you mean you won’t be home after school.”
“Right.”
“Be careful. Call if you’re going to be late or staying overnight.”
“When’s Dad getting back?”
“I don’t know. Monday, I think.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“He called last night. Having a wonderful time, I’m sure.”
“I think there’s a hint of sarcasm there. Are you implying that lecturing about postmodern pedagogy in North Dakota could be anything other than entertaining?”
“That’s exactly what I’m implying. Sometimes I think he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.”
“I think he’s trying to figure it out.”
David Jackson was the head of the English Department at the college in Bryton. Currently, he was hopping off to various remote and relatively dull areas of the United States, preaching about the integration of technology into the education system. Autumn had tried to read his lecture. It had nearly put her to sleep. He seemed to take a very basic concept and infuse it with lengthy arcane words and wild abstractions. Whatever made him happy, she figured.
“I might go to the bookstore after school. Anything you want me to look for?”
“No. I think I’m okay. Besides, you would probably just ridicule me for my tastes.”
“Why would I do something like that? Everyone needs more Nicholas Sparks in their diet.”
“Now I haven’t read one of his books in a very long time.”
“That’s right. You’ve graduated to the college of Oprah.”
“Some of those books are good. You even read that one.”
“That’s different. That was Cormac McCarthy. It had cannibals in it.”
“And that guy who works in there, what’s his name, Mr. Stump?”
“Stoop.”
“Whatever. He gives me the creeps.”
“I think he wants to give people the creeps. And he doesn’t just work there, he owns it. And the coffeeshop next to it.”
“So he’s an entrepreneurial creep.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“So was Ted Bundy.”
Autumn downed her coffee and put her cup in the sink.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” her mother asked.
“Mom, if we’re going to wear skirts this short then we’re not allowed to eat.”
“That’s right. I forgot that anorexia was cool.”
“I’m hardly anorexic.”
“Not yet. Just wait until your hair starts falling out.”
“I’ll have a big lunch. I promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Have I ever lied to you before?”
Her mother raised her eyebrows and went back to reading her paper. “You and Charlotte have a good time tonight. Call me if you’re out too late.”
“You already said that.”
“Did I?”
“Yep.”
“Jeez. I guess hot flashes are probably right around the corner.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“You have your phone?”
“Of course.”
“Make sure it’s turned on in case I need to get hold of you.”
“You’re so protective.”
“I just like to keep tabs on you so you don’t end up strung out and pregnant.”
“Don’t worry, I have plans other than abortions and rehab.”
“It’s good to have goals.”
“I’m leaving now,” Autumn said, realizing she and her mother could banter like this all morning.
“Fine,” her mother said. “Be gone with you then.”
In the living room, Autumn pulled her black wool coat from the coat rack in case she needed it and said goodbye to her sister.
When she walked out the door, into the refreshing sunlight, she still had that weird feeling all around her. She didn’t take it very seriously. She had these feelings all the time and nothing ever came of them.
Her Honda was parked out on the curb. She still had to swing by her friend’s house. Gretchen Smith was one of the only other high school kids who lived on her block and she didn’t have her license yet. Last year they had been close friends but Gretchen had found a boyfriend, total scum, and now the only time they ever really talked was in the car on the way to and from school. Usually, Gretchen ended up getting a ride home with the aforementioned scum.
Pulling into the other girl’s driveway, Autumn honked her horn and Gretchen came bouncing out. The high school was not in town. It was out in the middle of a cornfield and neither of the girls said much.
“You’re quiet,” Gretchen said.
“Yeah. I have this strange feeling.”
“Maybe you’re getting your period.”
“No, I don’t think it’s that time yet.”
“Well, maybe not for some of us.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ll get yours,” Gretchen said.
“Yes, I suppose I will. I had this strange dream last night. I barely even remember it now. But I just... have this feeling something bad is going to happen.”
“Well,” Gretchen said. “How much good can happen? This is Lynchville.”
And the girls left it at that. The name of their town hanging between them like some black splotch of malignant cancer.
Fourteen
Charlotte muddled through the school day. Waking up too early after staying up too late. She regretted taking a shower because it washed the smell of Zack from her skin. She regretted brushing her teeth because it took the taste of him from her mouth.
She couldn’t describe it. She felt out of sync with her day. Like the day wanted to pull her one place and she was trying to run in another direction entirely.
She dozed off for a few seconds in her first period Economics class and spent English exchanging knowing glances with Autumn Jackson. What was it they knew? They knew the teacher was a windbag. They knew that, just because the teacher understood Shakespeare and had had a poem published while she was in college, she thought it made her an authority on Literature. The capital letter was how the English teacher, Ms. Gaffney, always said it. The way she said it, you could feel that capital. Third period was History and while she usually found this interesting it just seemed dreadfully boring today. Lunch was next and she needed to go to the restroom before going into the cafeteria where she would try and cook up some plans with Autumn for this evening. Autumn usually had good ideas for what they could do. If it wasn’t for Autumn and her plans then Charlotte would choose to sit at home and wait for Zack to mysteriously appear and wonder just what the hell or who the hell he was.
Swinging the bathroom door open, she was glad to see she was the only girl in there. Maybe she could splash some water on her face, wake herself up, without anyone really noticing or asking if something was wrong. She didn’t want anyone asking that because she didn’t really know the answer. Something could be wrong. Something could most definitely be wrong. What, exactly, she wasn’t sure. She just felt like it was entirely possible she was in way over her head. Previous affairs had been with simple-minded high school boys who wanted her for all the obvious reasons. And while she had acquiesced to their wants on a number of occasions, she had never really felt anything for
them. She had never really fallen for one of them. They bored her. The sex was okay at best. Mostly she thought she liked the idea of the act, the idea that it was doing something she wasn’t really supposed to be doing, more than the physical feeling of the act itself. With Zack, she liked all of it. It left her shivering and it left her wanting more.
The lights in the bathroom seemed too harsh, as though they had to be extra bright to compensate for the lack of windows. One of them buzzed loudly overhead, that irritating buzz of fluorescent lights she never noticed until it was completely quiet. And the bathroom, cut off from the noise of the cafeteria and the halls, was indeed completely quiet.
She looked at herself in the row of dirty mirrors on the far side of the bathroom. She looked gaunt—too pale, dark circles under her eyes. Her dress seemed to accompany this feeling. It was a long black hippie dress, reaching nearly down to her ankles, worn low on her hips. She wore a tight button-down shirt, a flash of white skin visible between the shirt and the dress. If not for that inappropriate bit of skin, she could have been dressed for a funeral.
Turning to her right, she threw open the far stall.
Startled, she exhaled air that seemed like it was held in precisely for this moment at the sight of Zack, standing in the women’s stall.
She nearly laughed with her reaction to it all.
She smiled, holding her hand to her pale chest.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything.
“Are you okay?”
He leaned into her, whispering into her ear.
“Get on your knees.”
So this was what he wanted. At first she didn’t want to. It seemed filthy, here in the bathroom, and there was the chance of being caught. She didn’t think any of the students would say anything, probably wouldn’t pay any attention, but what if a teacher came in to see one pair of feet on the ground and one set of knees.
“Do it, Charlotte,” Zack said.
She liked the sound of her name coming from his mouth. She met his gaze. If this was what he wanted... If this was what it would take to bring him back then she was going to give it to him. And she was going to make it worth his while. She hoped her eyes told him this.
Slowly, rubbing her hands down his arms, she slid down onto her knees and looked up at him.
He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then he pulled down the front of his underwear, as black as his clothes, and his penis sprang out. She rubbed her lips against the tip of it, smelling herself from last night. It didn’t matter if she liked the scent or not. There wasn’t anything she could do about it.
He grabbed the back of her head, forcing his penis against her lips. She took it into her mouth. He forced the entire length in and she gagged. He continued to thrust against her mouth.
Then he brought her head away from him. She licked her lips and wiped saliva from her chin. She rose to kiss him.
He kissed her forcefully, quickly, and turned her so she was bent over the toilet.
Not wanting to, she gripped the cool reservoir, trying to stare at the wall rather than the bowl.
He yanked her dress and underwear down to her knees. Pulled her hips up so she was exposed to him.
“Play with yourself,” he said.
“Zack...”
“Do it.”
“What if...”
“Do it.”
Tentatively, she reached between her legs with her right hand, bracing her weight on her left. She heard Zack slide his belt from his pants.
She moved her hand faster, feeling the growing moisture on her fingertips. If they got caught, she wouldn’t care. This was so crazy it was worth it.
He brought the belt down on her ass.
She came. That sudden. The shock sent her sex into spasms, gripping against her fingertips as Zack lashed her again and again.
“Oh, God,” she said, still coming.
Her legs were shaking.
Now Zack was behind her, jerking himself off.
She felt his come splash her burning buttocks. It felt cool and soothing. She pulled her sticky hand from between her legs.
“Pull yourself up,” he said.
She did so, conscious of the wetness spreading between her panties and her skin. She felt humiliated and small. She was in pain. She felt dirty. She loved it. She felt great.
She turned to face him and started to say something but he put a finger against her lips. Continuing to stare at him he grew fainter. Became less substantial. It took her a moment to realize what was going on. He was disappearing. He was actually disappearing right there in front of her eyes. That freaked her out even more than the things they had seen last night in the cemetery.
Once he was gone, she doubted if he was there at all. She thought she could feel his come on her bottom but she couldn’t be sure. Reaching back to feel it, she thought it could just as easily have been sweat. She almost wished someone would have been in the bathroom with her just so she could question them about it, but what would she say?
“Excuse me, did you happen to notice me down on the floor in the stall there? Yeah, on my knees, giving head to some guy that might not be real at all? Did you hear him hitting me with his belt? Did you see another set of feet or was I just blowing the air because that... boy, that would just be sad.”
No. She wouldn’t have been able to do that either. That would have been retardation. She could have written her own ticket to Signal Point after doing that. She figured, if one was to go mad, it was better to go slowly mad in one’s own mind rather than to announce that madness to the world.
Why did he always have to leave like that? With so many unanswered questions. Why did she feel like she was being used? Why did she immediately want to do it again?
She pulled up her dress and lowered her underwear once again and did what she had come to the bathroom to do in the first place. Then she went over to the sinks and the dirty wall of mirrors and splashed some cold water on her face before going to the cafeteria where she could sip a Diet Coke and talk to Autumn, neither of them eating anything.
Fifteen
Jacob woke up around noon, fully-clothed, covered in sweat, and slightly confused. He was not used to waking up next to Rachel or on the couch pulled out into a bed. He felt strange. Despite last night being the most openly traumatic evening he had experienced in nearly two years, he had slept soundly, without a single dream or nightmare.
Rachel and Rain continued to snooze, looking almost childlike, facing each other, their knees nearly touching. Jacob wanted to take a picture of them but knew they had things to do. He had shut the windows before going to bed and now the sun poured in and the apartment was hot. Crossing the room, he opened the windows, letting the fresh breeze stream in. Reaching over the couch, he tapped Rachel awake.
“Morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” she said. “What time is it?”
“Just after noon.”
“Fuck,” she said, hopping up out of bed. “I need to call my parents.”
She grabbed the phone from the nightstand and went into the other room to talk to her parents, probably to apologize for not being there when they woke up and probably to apologize in advance for not being there the rest of the day. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to tell them why she wouldn’t be able to be there.
Rain woke up while Rachel was in the other room.
“Good morning,” Jacob said.
“Morning.” She wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“Sleep well?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“Are you still coming along with us?”
“Of course. I think you guys’ll need the help.”
Jacob nodded.
“Got any plans?” she asked.
“How do you plan against something that may not exist?”
“Good point.”
“So my plan is this: As soon as Rachel gets off the phone, we three will hike down to th
e Wake Up Screaming and grab the only decent coffee this ‘burg has to offer. There, we will sit down and talk. And then we will go hunting.”
“It feels like we need supplies or something.”
“What? Like silver bullets and holy water and all that shit?”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t think it would do any good.”
“Me either. But if Bones is out there... I’m pretty sure a gun could stop him.”
“You’re probably right. Sometimes I wish I was a gun enthusiast.”
“I take it you’re not?”
“There’s not a firearm in the place.”
She looked puzzled.
“I know... Maybe Rachel told you a little bit about what happened before and you think maybe it’s stupid not to have one around but, well, first of all, what good would it do and... if she had told you the whole story then you would know.”
“She didn’t.”
“She didn’t tell you the whole story?”
“Any of it.”
“Well, then, I think we have some brunch conversation.”
Rachel came back into the living room and put the phone back on its charger.
“They’re pissed,” she said.
“Aren’t they always?”
“I’ll never quite figure them out.”
“You’re their little girl. They’re worried about you,” Jacob said.
“Sometimes I wish I had a sister.”
“I’ll be your sister,” Rain said.
Rachel let go a sinister chuckle. “You should probably meet my parents before you say things like that. You may not know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad,” Jacob answered for Rachel. “They do, however, have a soft spot for orphans.” Jacob was thinking about the weeks they had taken him in and parented him after his own parents had died, patiently, even though they were probably well aware he was fucking their daughter every time he was given the chance.
“So... plans?” Rachel said.
“Ah, yes, I thought we would retire to the Wake Up Screaming and clear our heads. Fill our new friend in on some of our glorious past.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Let us go then.”