The Dark House (23 page)

Rollins watched Marj's eyes, which were bright with the reflected image of the
Today
show. “It is hard to believe.” He thought of Tina's hands on him, from his dream.

Marj clicked off the TV again, and slapped the control down on the countertop. “Have you thought about why?”

“It's what you were saying last night. Sloane must think I've been following him.” He hesitated a moment, his eyes downcast.

“What?”

“You were right. I remembered something. I'm pretty sure I saw Sloane about a month ago.” He explained about the Land Cruiser being parked in by the Caprice he was following. “It was about a week after I'd been in Londonderry.”

“That's just what I was talking about! He thinks you're following him.”

“But why?”

“Because he murdered your cousin. It's gotta be.”

“Now he's a murderer?” Rollins asked. He'd been puzzling about this ever since he heard the Caprice tape. “What's the motive?”

“Maybe her money.”

“But she hardly had any at that point. Seven hundred fifty thousand, tops.”

Marj looked at him. “Well, how much does it take?”

Rollins didn't like the direction the conversation was going. “What I mean is, the real money came later,
after
she disappeared. But he was never going to get it, anyway. That money goes to her beneficiaries.”

Marj shrugged. “Well, maybe he's one of them.”

“I doubt it. It's more likely she'd name me.”

“Well?”

“And she didn't. I'd have been contacted by now.”

“So maybe they were lovers, and she dumped him and he got mad.”

“She's not interested in men, remember?”

“Simple. He wanted sex, she didn't, and he killed her.”

“I don't know, Marj.”

“There's got to be
some
explanation.” Marj retreated to the bed, and dropped down onto her back. She lay there for a few moments. “So, what do we do now, Rolo? Any bright ideas about that?” Marj kicked off her running shoes and sat down on the bed with her feet up straight out in front of her, like a child on a swing. Rollins was standing by the bureau. He noticed that, where he'd draped his hand, he left behind a foggy imprint of his fingertips on the bureau's shiny top.

“It's a nice big bed, at least.” Marj's voice was quieter, as though she
were closer to him, physically, than she actually was. Marj slid her hand out across the mattress. “Want to try it?”

Rollins felt his stomach tighten.

“Maybe we could relax a little?” Marj scooted farther back onto the bed. “Come on, sit down.” Rollins did as he was told. The mattress lurched, and he felt her hand on his shoulder. Her thumbs pressed deep into the flesh about his collarbone, the fingers reaching, fanning out to his shoulders. “Feel good?” She gave off a light, soapy sweetness, with just a hint of sweat, as she worked the muscles in his neck with her hand. “God, you're so tight. All through here.” She reached under his shirt collar with her fingertips. “Hot, too, feels like.”

“It's been quite a morning,” Rollins said.

“We're safe now. You said so yourself.”

“For a little while.”

A slender hand reached around to pop the buttons of his shirt. A nail scratched him, where it dug underneath.

“You won't need this,” Marj said. She came around, and deftly loosened the buttons all the way down.

 

Neely had taken off his clothes. Late one night after she'd taken him to the movies. He lay on the bed, pretending to be asleep. He felt the clothes slide off him, one by one. So cool, his skin then, before the wrinkled pajamas came on. So warm, her touch.

 

Marj's tongue protruded slightly from her tightened lips as she undid the rest of his buttons. Finally, his shirt parted in front of him. Marj slid her hands inside and up, slipped the shirt off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. “Better?” she asked.

“Marj, I—” He felt nervous, vulnerable without his shirt.

Marj pressed a finger to his lips. “Sssh. It's better if you don't talk.”

She moved around beside him. “You can relax a little.” Marj kissed a shoulder, then nuzzled his neck. The ends of her hair were on him, and her light hands, dropping lower and lower, down his sides. She removed her hands for a moment. Then a rustling sound of what could only have been her pulling off her own clothes. But he didn't dare turn to look.

“There,” Marj said. “Lay back down, Rolo. Close your eyes. Just keep breathing, real easy.”

Rollins did as he was told, and he could feel his pants sliding off him, then his underwear, too. He was conscious of the rough cloth under him, and nothing above. He reached for Marj's head, to bring her close to him, but she was out of reach.

“Hey,” she said from the foot of the bed. “Uncircumcised. Cool.”

Rollins looked up: She was naked, too. Slender, with smallish, up-curving breasts, a narrowing slimness that gave way to a slight swelling at her waistline, then a scraggly triangle of dark fur below.

Marj was looking down at herself, cupping one breast, then the other. “What do you think—my boobs okay? I sometimes think they should be bigger.”

“They're, ah—they're fine like that. I mean, they're perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Rollins' mind was going too fast. “Really.” He reached for Marj again. He placed a hand softly between her breasts, closed his eyes again to try to calm his thoughts, and stroked her downward along her belly, grateful for her cool solidity, her Marjness.

“Careful.”

Rollins withdrew his hand.

She gave a little purring laugh. “Just joking, Rolo.” She crouched down by the bed. “Come on, relax.” He could feel her hands caressing his feet. Gradually, slowly, she drew her hands up between his legs, releasing a torrent of fiery sensation. “Feel good?”

His eyes shut tight, Rollins inhaled sharply through his nose.

“That all you can say?” Marj spoke teasingly, her voice nearly all breath as she reached over, pushed a hand between his legs, and slowly drew it forward. Rollins felt one breast surrounding his shoulder as she leaned against him. Rollins' thoughts contracted to the scalloped line of her nails advancing towards his privates.

Rollins' eyes roamed to a reproduction of a gaudy Renoir over the head of the bed. He thought of Tina, his dream. Thought of Neely and what he'd seen so many years ago, and all the horrors that had led to. Thought about the scene at the Overnighter. Thought of Stephanie, floating. His brain pulsed: too many jarring visions flashed before his
eyes. He watched himself watching. Marj's electric touch was on him, now, the very base and center of him, slithering lightly over his testicles. He glanced up at her, and her face suddenly loomed huge as she trained her eyes on his groin, of all places. Then she was pulling the foreskin back, lightly, as if she were removing a tiny sock. It was the most tender, most beautiful moment of his life, but instead of pleasure, Rollins felt something closer to pain, as if he were being scratched where he did not itch. His prick remained limp, wounded.

Marj played with him lightly, stroking him. “We can fix this,” she said finally. Then she ducked her head down toward his middle. She had just started to kiss him, right there, an act of such generosity it nearly brought tears. But, knowing the whole thing was hopeless, he nonetheless eased her away.

“Oh, it's like that, is it?” Marj asked. The bed quaked for a moment as she lifted off it, just long enough to jerk the bedcovers up over her front.

“It's not what you think.”

“Can I ask you a question?” She was staring at him again, he could feel it. “Are you one of those guys that just watches, like that's all you can do?”

“No.”

“Don't you do it with
anyone
? Not even, like, small children or something?”

Rollins almost slapped her. He yanked the sheet over himself and curled into a ball.

“Well, I just can't figure you, then. God knows, I tried. I thought, Maybe if I just close my eyes and fuck him. Maybe he'd turn, like, normal.” She was talking as if Rollins weren't even there. “What an idiot. What a total fucking idiot.” Still covering herself, she groped on the floor for her bra. Rollins heaved himself around to face the wall while she hooked it on. His vision had started to blur, and he needed a chance to clear his eyes.

She'd just finished pulling on her clothes when there was a knock at the door. Rollins rolled off the bed and slipped into a bathrobe while
Marj answered the door. The bellhop had returned with Marj's VCR. “There was one down there after all,” Rafael announced, as he came in with a big electronic box in his hands. He looked at the rumpled sheets, then at Marj and Rollins. “If you're still interested.”

“Sure,” Marj said.

As the bellhop busied himself plugging in all the various wires, Rollins stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. There was a bathtub inside, a large, handsome one that, even if it lacked claw feet, seemed to be fully in keeping with Rollins family standards. He opened the taps up full and a torrent of water poured out. Rollins watched the waters rise for a moment, then went to the window. Through the trees, he could just make out the swan boats paddling about the pond. He'd taken a ride on one with Stephanie a few weeks before she died. His mother had let him hold her briefly, even though he was occupying the outside seat, just inches from the open water. Stephanie had given out squeals of joy and clapped her hands when Rollins pointed out the ducks that swam toward the boat. Possibly, Stephanie was the only one in the family who had ever been happy. Rollins looked down below to the street, watched a Wagoneer pass by the Ritz and disappear down Arlington Street. Then he pulled the shade.

By now, the bathroom was filled with fog, and Rollins turned back to the tub. The water had nearly reached the level of the overflow valve. He turned off the taps, removed his bathrobe, and stepped into the steaming water. He slowly eased himself down, his skin tingling. All around him, the room had gone white, as if he had ascended into the clouds. Color, weight, solidity—they were all gone now as he floated in the whiteness, feeling only the gentle burning of his skin. Guilt, fear, desire—they were all gone, too. He felt peace, completion. He poked his legs out over the far edge of the tub and slid his torso down so that the water lapped at his ears. With each swell of the water, all sound closed off, as though life was over. Then, as the wave receded, life returned with a pop. He lay like this for a while, passing in and out of the nothingness. Then he slumped backward a little more to bring the water up to his nose. With his ears and eyes submerged, the bath
room went liquid, and the whole universe itself became only the vaguest memory. He slid his head down farther and let the water rush in his nose. A queer, burning sensation, but tolerable. He plunged his head to the floor of the tub, peered up at the silvery blur one last time, and inhaled again.

T
here was a pounding from somewhere far away, then a shout and a ruffling of water, and hands reaching down to him, seizing him under the armpits, pulling on him. Then air, and a great heaviness rising from within, and water spilling out of his mouth and down his chest, and coughing, and fists banging on him, and his name being called, over and over, by an angel. Her voice was much more beautiful than his mother's, which was the only voice he could remember. Then sight again, blessed sight, of white walls and the chrome of the fat faucet and the two sparkling little taps, and the bare flesh of a woman's arm. He clung to the arm with both hands, and stroked it with his bristly cheek. Only then did he register on the other voice, the deep one. “You think he's all right?”

Then the angel again. “Yes, seems to be. Lucky you had a key.
Jesus. You never know with some people, what they'll do. He must've fallen asleep or something.”

“You sure he's okay?”

“God, I hope so. He's breathing, anyway.”

Then the angel's voice in his ear. “Rollins, you all right?”

And his nodding, “Thank you.” He clutched her arm and shut his eyes tight, grateful for her, as never before.

The angel, loudly, “Yeah, see, he's okay.” Then, more softly, to him, “You sure you're all right? You scared the shit out of me. Jesus.”

“Yes, yes. Certainly. I'm okay. Yes. Thank you.”

“There, see? He's okay.”

“Okay, then.” There was a wind on him again as the door opened and shut, and then he reached up to draw the angel down to him. He wanted to kiss her, if he could, and he pulled on her neck, and she said, “Hey, wait a sec.” But he didn't care, because his feelings had never been so powerful, and he was pawing at her, and he was big and Neely wasn't there and Tina wasn't there and Stephanie wasn't there and his mother wasn't there, and no one was there but him and her, and he was pushing his hands into her soft parts, and she wasn't pulling away. “Oh, shit,” she was saying. “There you go again.” Then “Oh, what the hell,” and she was pulling her shirt and shorts off, too, and he was seeing absolutely all of her once more, only it was so beautiful this time, so stunningly beautiful, and she was climbing in with him, her gorgeous dark part spread open over him, and she was on him in the water, and she was giggling a little, as if she didn't mean to but couldn't help it, and then her dark part rubbed against him, and he was so big, and so hot, that he nearly burst right then, and she moved a little, sending the waves again and eased him inside her, and he slipped in so smoothly, as though he'd always belonged there, and he felt so hot all over, but particularly there, and he was gasping, drawing the still-steamy air deep into himself, and so was she, into herself, although a little less, and she was wet and slippery wherever he put his hands, and he put his hands everywhere, even on the beautiful little red pips of her breasts, even inside her gaping mouth. The water was slurping out over the tops of the tub walls, and he didn't care, and she didn't seem to care, and he
had never felt anything like this before, ever, and he shouted her name as though it were the very word for happiness. “Marj!” he shouted. “Marj! Marj!” He shouted it again and again, slapping the water with his hands, sending up spray onto the tiled walls. Her breasts wobbling, her skin glistening, Marj laughed and tipped her head back and she was giving out little squeals and saying “Oh, God. Oh, God,” as she moved her hips on him, and she looked so far away, so lost, but everything was so slithery and indecent it was hard to think, and then the feeling built up and the feeling built up and he started going absolutely stiff everywhere not just there and then he really wanted to shout, but no sound came out, no sound
could
come out, and she straightened and gave out a squeal, then two more, her neck veins swelling blue, and then she slumped down onto him, and her hair was matted and dripping and he brought his arms around her, and now, finally, the bathwater was still, and she said, “So, I guess you are alive,” and then she kissed him and he said, “Yes, I guess I am. I guess I am.”

 

Damp and cozy on the big double bed, Rollins groped for Marj again, but she just patted him. “We'd better give your cock a rest or it might fall off.” She reached down and gave his penis a shake as a gesture of friendship, but this only made it spring to life once more. “Oh, God,” she said. “I just can't.” She did let him kiss both breasts, though, before she rolled over and, while he inched his hands down her vertebrae all the way down to the very bottom of her, where the soft flesh parted, she stopped talking and, with a yawn, fell still. He waited a little, staring up at the ceiling, listening to her breath come and go, then he eased himself off the bed, came around to her side, where the covers didn't quite reach. He saw how her breasts drooped sideways, how her hip bone protruded. Her nakedness seemed so tender, so trusting. Maybe she did care about him after all. Then he pulled the covers over her and, with just the softest pat on her shoulder, let her sleep.

He returned to the bathroom. The tub was still full. Some pubic hairs floated on the surface. He reached into the now-cool water and pulled the plug, then picked up the telephone by the toilet—such a strange place for it—and called room service. He ordered crabmeat
sandwiches for the two of them, plus champagne, orange juice, strawberries, and coffee. He had never been so hungry. Then he stepped back into the bedroom, enjoying the air on him.

Marj was standing by the door, eyeing him. “You should probably get dressed, you know. If the room service guy is coming.”

“I didn't want to wake you.” Rollins was conscious of the deep pile of the rug pushing up between his toes.

“It's okay. I wasn't asleep.” She went into the bathroom.

“Not at all?”

“Nope.” Rollins heard a tinkling sound, then the rattle of the toilet paper dispenser. “I don't really mind if you look at me. Actually, it's kind of flattering.”

Marj returned with her clothes from the bathroom and put them on by the bureau, then sat down beside him on the bed. “Besides, I wanted to make sure that if you were going to go swimming again, you had your life jacket.”

From where he was sitting, he could see across to the bathtub. He shifted back onto the bed, and drew his knees up to his chest. He felt cold again.

“I wasn't trying to drown myself, if that's what you mean,” he said finally.

“Then what?”

Rollins tightened his arms around his legs.

“You're thinking something, Rolo. What?” She looked into his eyes. “Look, if we're gonna fuck, we've gotta talk. It's a rule.”

“Stephanie died facedown.” To give details was to bring the scene back—the eerie stillness of it, especially. It was to open the bathroom door again. But Marj was with him now. With her at his side, perhaps he could return inside.

Marj's eyes flared. “Oh, God!” She brought her hand to her mouth. “Your sister! Oh, Rolo, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot.”

Rollins' throat hurt just below his Adam's apple. He pressed his chin down against his kneecap; the tops of his thighs pushed against his chest. He had to hold his body tight together, or it might blow apart. “I just wanted to see her again. Just once more.”

Marj angled her face toward his. “Well, did you?”

Rollins remembered the glassy sheen of the water as he stared up. “No.”

“But you stayed under, Rolo. We had to pull you out.”

Rollins spoke as if in a trance. “I saw Neely.” She had loomed over him, big as the sky. That was his last thought. Rollins let go of his own legs and reached out for Marj's shoulders. He needed to cling to her if he was going to make it through. “That's why Stephanie died, you know. Because I didn't go in.”

She wriggled slightly. “Please, Rolo. Don't hold me quite so tight.”

But Rollins barely heard her. He had to push with all his might to say what he had to say. “And I didn't go in because I'd seen Neely.”

“Rollins,
please
.” Marj finally jerked away. She reared back from him, rubbing her neck and shoulders, which were red where he'd been squeezing. “You were hurting me.”

“You didn't understand!”

“You didn't explain!” The words exploded out of her. “God!” There were tears in her eyes.

Rollins climbed off the bed, crossed the room, and stepped into his pants.

Marj reached through the air for him. “Don't go, Rolo. Talk. Please. Talk to me.”

Rollins leaned his head against the wall, glad to press against something hard and flat and unforgiving. He didn't want to hurt her, only himself.

Still, he could see Marj watching him. Her shoulders were slumped, and her cheeks glistened with tears. “What am I—your new baby-sitter?” She pounded her hand against the mattress as she spoke. “Or am I just some stupid jerk who doesn't know better than to climb into the bathtub and fuck a person to make him happy?”

Rollins barely heard her. He was going back. He turned back to the wall again, its floral print a complete blur at that distance. What he was about to say he couldn't say to her. It was too awful. He could only say it
with
her. “After my mother put Stephanie in the bath, the phone rang.” The words came out slowly. “She told me to watch her while she
went downstairs to answer it. But I didn't watch her. I just sat on my bed.” He bumped his head lightly against the wall. He deserved the pain. “My mother was downstairs talking on the phone. I don't know who she was talking to. She shouted up to me, reminding me to check on Stephanie. But I didn't. I stayed right where I was.
I didn't think I should go in, do you understand me?
”

“Why not?”

“Because of what she'd said when she saw me with Neely. No, not what she said. I don't even really remember what she said. It was the way she said it. The hate.” Rollins closed his eyes. He saw his yellow bedspread, decorated with cowboys. “Finally, I heard Mother say good-bye to whoever she was talking to, and hang up. This time I went to the bathroom door. I listened for Stephanie's shouting, her splashing around, those funny gurgling sounds she made when she was happy. Stephanie was always happy in her bath. She always made a lot of noise. But—” He could see the dark smudges on the door's edge where he had opened it so often with his dirty hands. “But I didn't hear anything in the bathroom. Nothing. All I heard was my mother, coming up the stairs.”

“So you went in.”

Rollins hesitated. “I opened the door.”

If Marj hadn't been with him, he'd never have been able to look through that doorway again, to see the drowned Stephanie, her little head down in the water, her hair billowing around her, and then to go further, to say what he did next, to speak of the thing that, more than any other, had always tormented him.

“You went in, didn't you, Rolo?” Marj prodded.

“No.” Rollins rolled his head back and forth against the wall. “I didn't.”

“Rolo!”

“I couldn't! I was too scared. I thought if I just shut the door, it wouldn't be true. It wouldn't have happened. She'd be alive. Everything would be fine.”

“So you just shut the door?”

Silence.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Rollins was having terrible trouble with his eyes. He had to turn his head away from Marj, to stare at the corner of the room, where there was nothing to see. He draped his hands over his head again. His eyes felt wet, his nose was clogged, and he found it impossible to speak.

Then, through the blur, Marj was beside him, turning his face toward hers. “Here.” She'd brought him some tissues from the box by the bed. “Try these.” She dabbed at his eyes with Kleenex. He had trouble standing, he was quaking so, and he slumped down onto Marj. “It's all right.” She helped him back to the bed. “Lie back down here,” she told him. “Come on. It's okay.” She went to the bathroom for a wet towel and wiped his face.

“I should have been watching her.” He could feel the wetness from his eyes spilling down his face, dampening the pillow; his nose was stuffed, and his head pounded. “I should have done something.”

“Look, it was an
accident.
” Marj spoke so softly. “You were just a kid.” She leaned over him, wiping his face. Rollins curled himself around her. He wanted to make himself small again, small enough for her to pick him up and rock him in her arms. But, of course, he was too big for that. Instead, he reached up to cup her breasts through her shirt, and then he pushed the shirt up, and her bra, too, and brought his mouth to her nipples, first one, then the other. Marj took in a breath and pushed her hands into his hair. “Oh, Rolo, Rolo, Rolo. What am I ever going to do with you?”

Then there was a knock on the door. “Room service!” declared an accented voice.

“Damn!” Marj pulled her bra and shirt back down. Rollins pulled the covers up over his head. Through the sheets, he heard the door swing open. He heard the tray go down on a table in the adjoining room of the suite, then a “Sign this, please, miss,” and a clipped “Thank you.”

When the door closed again, Rollins pulled back the sheets, just in time to see Marj lift the T-shirt up over her head and toss it onto the floor. Rollins lay curled up there on the bed, and she cuddled around him. He loved feeling her soft skin on his back, smelling her sweet
breath when she bent down over him. “That's so awful, Rolo,” Marj told him. “No wonder—”

“I'm so fucked up.”

“Don't say that. That's not what I was going to say.”

“That's the truth of it. I never told anybody about this, you know. Even the crappy psychiatrist my parents sent me to, Dr. Ransome. I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't! How could I have just shut the door? Just leave her? It's so…evil.”