Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (71 page)

“But Randy, I was just suggesting a meaningless roll in the hay."

“That may be what you thought you were suggesting, but it isn't. You like me more than you have admitted to yourself, and I like you a hell of a lot more than I want to. Mama Jo, you scare the hell out of me, but I'm willing to try if you are."

“Try what?"

“A relationship between you and me."

“Are you talking about a business relationship or a personal one?"

He steered her by the elbow back to the porch before answering. As they brushed the snow off each other he said, “Both. But Jo, please don't rush me into sex."

As she passed through the front door he held open for her she asked, “Does your doll have a brother?"

They were both aware they had made a commitment to each other, but neither was certain of the details. As they stood by the fire, warming themselves and drying out their clothes, Jo said, “This is a little awkward."

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How long do you think it will be before the roads are passable?"

“Days,” he replied. “I've been told there are no snow plows in Dot, but sometimes a farmer will get his tractor out and drag some of the roads."

She nodded.

“Is there somewhere you want to go? I could call Billy Frank at the Dot Super Save and get him to bring out some snow chains."

“I was just thinking that maybe I should find an apartment or something."

“No!” he shouted and then blushed. “I mean, no,” he said more quietly. “There's no need for you to move out. Not now, anyway."

“How about the two rooms you said were upstairs? Are they heated?"

“To tell you the truth, I don't know,” he answered.

“How do we get there?” she asked. “I haven't seen any stairs."

Randy laughed. “I think that originally those rooms were just a part of a big attic. There is a pull-down staircase in the hall. When they added the finished rooms, they didn't bother to put in permanent steps. Come on, I'll show you."

Randy drew down the folded staircase and led Jo up to the attic rooms. “Doesn't look like much, does it?” he asked. He pulled the chain on the single naked light bulb ceiling fixture and was a little surprised when the bulb began to glow.

“I love the aroma,” she commented after exhaling a deep breath, and the two of them silently studied the rooms. The walls and floor were made of unfinished pine slabs that provided the pleasant odor. The ceiling was made of some kind of off-white drop-in material. There were ample electrical outlets and a double window at the extremity of each room. A simple doorway divided the rooms themselves. The door was made of pine slabs, tied together with three crosspieces. There were closed hot air ducts in each room along with cold air returns. Randy opened one duct to make sure the heat from the oil furnace in the basement reached the attic rooms.

“This will do nicely,” Jo said at last. “I will use one room for my study and the other will be my bedroom. We can cheaply replace the ceiling fixtures with something a little nicer, and we can furnish it with the Salvation Army's second best."

“Second best?"

“Well, you said you already bought their best. There's just one problem."

“And that is?"

“You must promise that when you are angry with me—and you will be at times—you won't close up the staircase and trap me up here."

He laughed, turned off the light and started back down the steps. She noticed that he made no promises.

“Little Mama,” he called up to her when she did not follow, “we ate breakfast so late that we skipped lunch. I am starving! I'm going to pop a couple of frozen dinners in the oven. Which kind do you want?"

“I don't care,” she called back, “but those things are so skimpy you're going to have to fix two for me.” She walked back through the two rooms, mentally placing furniture. She felt the rock chimney that formed part of the dividing wall. It was very warm from the fire below. I hope this place is not a firetrap, she thought. She examined all sides of the chimney as carefully as she could. There did not seem to be any holes.

Mack McGee stood in front of the toilet bowl and began to relieve himself, the first step of his nightly bedtime ritual.

“How's your new secretary working out?” Mary Lou asked as she began to remove her clothes in the adjoining bedroom.

“She's okay. I think she sounds presentable enough over the telephone, and there is so little for her to do, typing speed is not a concern.” He pulled up the pants of his pajamas, tightened and tied the drawstring and flushed the commode. He stuck his head out the door and saw his nude wife slipping a nightgown over her head. “What did you say? I couldn't hear you over the noise of the toilet."

“I said,” Mary Lou answered, pulling the flimsy garment over her modest breasts, “she may sound okay, but she sure as hell doesn't look like a preacher's secretary. Have you talked with her about the way she dresses?"

He watched the descending cloth cover her pubic hair. “What am I supposed to say to her?"

“It's simple,” she grinned. “You just tell her she must quit wearing pants that stick in the cracks of her butt and vagina, and stop wearing skirts that are so short her panties show every time she bends over or sits down. And also she has to start wearing blouses or shirts that that are large enough to cover her huge boobs."

“Yeah, right,” Mack replied as he turned to the sink to begin the next bedtime chore.

Mary Lou pushed him aside and squeezed toothpaste onto her brush. “I can't understand you when you talk with the toothbrush in your mouth."

He rinsed and said, “I asked if maybe you thought I should talk with her uncle about it?"

Mary Lou removed the toothbrush, spat and said, “I don't know, Mack. Old Amos Stone might beat you to death with that cane he carries everywhere he goes."

Mack laughed. “He has a hot temper, all right. Remember how he almost ran Tim Dollar out of Dot during the first town meeting we had?"

Mary Lou lowered her voice in imitation of Amos Stone and bellowed, “No more taxes!"

“Funny,” Mack said, returning to the bedroom and fluffing his pillow. “Amos wound up saving Tim's butt that night."

“Speaking of that night, do you remember the ice storm we had?” Mary Lou asked as she returned to the bedroom and pulled down the covers on her side of the double bed.

“I sure do. I didn't expect anyone to turn out, but the church was full. That storm was about as bad as the one dumped on us a few days ago, but it didn't stay around as long."

She lay on her back and pulled the covers up to her neck. “Come on, Mack. It was not nearly as bad as this storm. There was just a coating of ice—not eight inches of snow—and it was all gone the next morning."

“How were the roads when you came home tonight?” he asked, sliding into his side of the bed, his feet protruding off the end of the mattress.

“I swear, Mack, I think you get taller every day. We must get a king-sized bed. As far as the roads go, they seemed clear tonight—just piles of gray slush on the sides of the roads.” She snapped off her bedside lamp. “How did that girl wind up on Amos’ doorstep?"

“I don't know the full story,” Mack replied, adjusting his pillow. “I think her parents live somewhere in Florida. She says she was a good athlete until her boobs grew so large that they got in the way. She left home after graduating from high school and God only knows what she did then—sowed the proverbial wild oats I guess. Anyway, she was such a handful, her parents wouldn't take her back, so she came to live with Amos."

“That's sad,” Mary Lou said sleepily. “You would think her parents would have given her a second chance."

“I expect they had already given her a bucketful of second chances."

Mary Lou yawned, sucking in air noisily. “Do you think she has settled down?"

“Amos thinks so, but I'm afraid she's a wildcat pretending to be a tame kitten.” He turned on his side and let his hand roam from her navel to her right breast.

She grabbed his wrist and jerked it away. “Not tonight, Mack. I'm just too damned tired."

Through clenched teeth he said, “That's what you said last night, and the night before, and the night before that. I could go on for thirty ‘nights before that’ without exaggerating."

“Damn,” she said throwing back the covers. She sat up abruptly, yanked off the nightgown, flopped back down and opened her legs. “There it is. Enjoy."

“If I wanted to masturbate I wouldn't need your vagina.” he said bitterly. He stomped off to the kitchen, not to get something to eat, but to cool off.

When he returned he sat on the side of the bed and placed his hand on her hip. “Honey, I'm sorry. I know you're tired, but its time you did something about it. You work at the clinic twelve hours a day, six days a week and half a day on Sunday. I know we've had this conversation before, but its time you brought in another doctor to assist you. You can't go on like this. The people in Dot have come to depend on you, its true, but what would happen to them if you become sick?"

She did not respond. He tucked the covers around her neck, slid into his side of the bed, turned off his bedside lamp and stared at the ceiling. Visions danced before his eyes—visions of the short cut, copper-colored hair, curvaceous hips, rounded buttocks and oversized breasts of his young secretary, the lovely Penny Swanson.

“What do you find so fascinating outside?” Mack asked. “I've been standing in the doorway watching you for five minutes."

Penny turned from the office window and laughed. “I've been watching that kid in the parking lot. Every day about this time he shows up and plays basketball. I haven’ seen him make a shot yet."

Mack forced his eyes above the jeans that seemed to be glued to her crotch, but his attempt to look into her green eyes was impeded by the nipples of her huge breasts poking holes in the low cut sweater she was wearing. As he approached, she turned back to the window and he admired her bottom. He placed his hands on her shoulders and peered out the window. “Oh,” he said. “That's Widow Morgan's son."

“He looks like a teenager. Shouldn't he be in school?"

“His name is Billy. He's sixteen I think—dropped out of school years ago. He's quite harmless, but strong as a professional wrestler. His mind just didn't grow up with his body. He should be in a special home, but his mother won't even discuss it. His dad died in a tractor accident shortly after he was born."

Penny let her body press back against Mack. She was pleased when he maintained his position. She could feel his erection against her buttocks. “He usually stays in the parking lot throwing the ball at the backboard for thirty minutes to an hour,” she said. “What does he do the rest of the day?"

“Like I said, he's harmless,” Mack replied. “He just wanders around town. He loves to help people when he can. We have a couple in Dot in the mail order business. They make a daily trip to the post office. If Billy is around, he helps them unload packages from their van and carries the mail out of the post office for them. I think they give him a dollar or two for helping."

“Oh, my goodness,” Penny said, “would you look at that."

Mack laughed as he saw Billy urinate at the side of the parking lot. “I guess he doesn't know any better. One day this summer I saw him sitting on the bench outside the hardware store masturbating. People who know about him don't give his actions a second thought."

Mack slid his hands from her shoulders and massaged her upper arms.

“Does he have any friends?” Penny asked as Billy again missed the backboard.

“There are not many teenagers in Dot, and you know how cruel children can be. I'm afraid Billy lives in a world of his own."

“Does his mother take good care of him?"

“She does the best she can. She cleans house for people to make a living. She's the lady who cleans the church on Saturdays. I think you've met her. Folks in town try to help look after Billy. When he gets hungry, he wanders into the Dot Diner. Dottie always feeds him a good meal."

“If his mother is Vera, I think she has a few screws loose herself."

“You may be right,” Mack agreed, moving his hands again and allowing himself to lightly massage her yielding shoulders.

“That's so sad,” Penny said, still looking at the teenager in the parking lot who was now awkwardly dribbling up and down the asphalt surface. “Mack, I'm only four years older than Billy. I'm going to be his friend."

She pulled away from Mack and started putting on her overshoes. “It's almost my lunch hour. Mind if I leave a little early?"

“Not at all,” he said, “but don't be surprised by anything Billy says or does. He means no harm."

Penny buttoned up her coat. Mack returned to the window, hoping to catch the drama he expected to unfold.

“Hi, Billy,” Penny shouted as she approached the parking lot. “May I play with you?"

“Gurls can't play basketball,” Billy replied.

“This girl can. At least I used to be pretty good."

Without warning, he fired the ball at her. She caught it easily, dribbled a couple of times and then raced towards the goal, soaring as she approached it and making a perfect, left-handed lay-up.

“Shit,” he cried. “You done that just like Mickey Jordan."

“Michael Jordan,” she corrected.

“Course,” he continued, ignoring her correction, “Mickey don't got tits and he's got black skin."

Penny laughed and tossed him the ball. “When I tell you, toss the ball back to me.” She ran towards the goal, lifted her hands and shouted, “Now.” He fired a perfect strike. She soared into the air and completed a right-handed lay-up."

“Shit,” he laughed and clapped his hands together. “We done good."

With a big grin on her face, she jogged to him with uplifted right hand. He smacked her hand with his. “Would you like to learn how to make a lay-up?” she asked.

“Gurls can't teach."

“Sure they can. Your teachers in school were girls, weren't they?"

“They didn't learn me much. Billy can't even read."

“Maybe I'm a better teacher than they are. Will you give me a chance?"