“This is a hell of a way to spend a day,” Eddie Belt remarked, though he seemed quite happy to be spending his so pleasantly.
“Duane’s getting touchy,” Jenny remarked to the crowd. “I can’t open my mouth anymore without hurting his feelings.”
“It serves him right, he’s hurt my feelings a million times,” Bobby Lee said.
Duane thought he saw a familiar car approaching at a high speed from the east. Scarcely a minute later Karla edged her BMW through the crowd and stopped right under the banner. Her spirits seemed to have improved.
“Momma’s on a tear,” she said, looking up at Duane. “I guess I better go out there for a few days and see if I can quiet her down.”
Karla’s mother lived in Pecos, Texas, far to the west.
“She’s been on a tear ever since I’ve known the family,” Duane said. “What’d she do now? Murder, arson, rape or what?”
“Very funny, Duane,” Karla said, taking off her sunglasses. “If you stop to wonder why I’m not around the house anymore, just remind yourself of jokes like that.
“What are you doing up there, anyway?” she asked.
“Right now I’m just sitting,” he said. “I might become a stepladder sitter. What’d your momma really do?”
The crowd, indifferent to their domestic discussion, began to drift off. Only Bobby Lee, Eddie and Jenny hung around.
“She ran Casey off,” Karla said. Casey was her mother’s long-suffering boyfriend.
“Uh-oh,” Duane said.
“That’s right,” Karla said. “If I don’t get out there and patch things up she might decide she wants to move in with us. I don’t think we want that to happen.”
“You’re not there, why would you care?” Duane asked.
Karla laughed. “You miss having a slave around, don’t you?” she said.
Duane laughed too.
“If I ever had a slave I’m sure I’d miss it if it left,” he said. “I just wouldn’t know what a slave looked like.”
“Men don’t understand the slavery issue,” Jenny said. It was clear to Duane that she had been dying to chime in.
“They don’t realize how much they get out of us in a normal day,” she added. “Just casually. They don’t even need to ask. We do things for them as if it was their right.”
“Yeah, things like slipping poison in the iced tea, things like spending all the money we work our asses off to make,” Bobby Lee said. “Things like leaving hairs in the bathtub.”
Karla looked at him and grinned.
“My goodness, you’re a sensitive little thing,” she said. “Do hairs in the bathtub upset you?”
“They sure do, it makes me want to puke to see a bunch of wet hairs in the bathtub,” Bobby Lee said.
“Is it just pussy hairs that bother you or any kind of hair?” Karla asked. “This is Karla asking.”
“It’s just hairs,” Bobby Lee said. “Ugly old hairs.”
“Where’d you get the black eye?” she asked.
Bobby Lee, who had seemed on the verge of having a fit, calmed down and resumed his reasonable tone of voice.
“You probably won’t believe this, but a big slimy bullfrog jumped out of a tree and landed right in my eye,” he said.
Karla laughed.
“You’re quick on your feet, aren’t you?” she said.
“Survival of the fittest,” Bobby Lee said.
Eddie Belt laughed caustically at the notion that Bobby Lee was the fittest.
Ruth began to jerk the banner up and down.
“Let’s finish this job and go make ourselves useful elsewhere,” she said.
“It really just needs to be a little higher,” Jenny Marlow said, surveying the banner’s droop.
Karla looked up at Duane. “’Bye, Duane,” she said.
“’Bye, Karla, have a nice trip,” Duane said.
“Don’t you get in a lot of trouble that won’t be good for you while I’m gone,” Karla said.
“I may just sit here on this stepladder the whole time,” Duane said. “It’s peaceful up here and I can watch the drought spread.”
Karla blew him a little kiss with her fingers. Duane made a smooching sound. A minute later the BMW was out of sight to the west.
CHAPTER 52
SONNY HAD RUSHED TO THE HOSPITAL TO GET THE ambulance but on the way had forgotten why he needed the ambulance. He was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, looking embarrassed, when Lester and Janine walked in. As soon as she got Lester settled in the quiet room, Janine came back and reported this fact to Duane, who had exerted himself in the meanwhile, pulling the banner so tight that it showed not the slightest sign of droop.
“He’s just not the same old Sonny,” Janine said.
“What if he forgets the Gettysburg Address?” Jenny said. “It could ruin the whole pageant.”
Duane knew he ought to go do something about Sonny, but he felt resistant. He didn’t know what to do about Sonny, and he didn’t want to be the one who had to do anything about him.
To his surprise, Ruth Popper came to his aid.
“Never mind, Duane,” she said. “There’s no reason you should have to do everything in this town. Go on and have a nice day.”
Just at that point they all noticed a struggle on the court-house lawn. The beardless Joe Coombs had stopped to make a call from the pay phone on the corner. Bobby Lee and Eddie Belt, who exhibited no interest in going to work, decided to put the new ducking law into effect on the spot. They rushed Joe and attempted to throw him in the horse trough where beardless males were to be ducked.
But Joe Coombs proved to be a scrapper. Though beardless, he was far from muscleless. It soon became clear that Bobby and Eddie would be lucky to get him ducked.
A few roughnecks, passing through town, stopped to watch.
“See, the banner’s up,” Duane said to the roughnecks. He was proud of his handiwork, but the roughnecks ignored the banner and sat watching the fight.
“Help us, Duane,” Bobby Lee yelled. “This man don’t want to obey the law.”
Joe Coombs held Eddie Belt down with his foot and pitched Bobby Lee into the horse trough. Then he picked Eddie up and threw him in as well. The roughnecks applauded and honked their horns. Joe walked over and made his call.
“That little Joe Coombs is a strong one,” Janine said, a cheerful light in her eye.
Bobby and Eddie crawled out of the horse trough looking thoroughly mortified.
“He don’t obey the rules,” Bobby Lee said. “He was supposed to be the duckee, not the ducker.”
“Whose idea was it to make a law that you had to duck people?” Eddie said. “We’ll never live this down. We might as well move to Lubbock.”
“I am moving to Lubbock,” Bobby Lee said. “I’m gonna start packing right now.”
“If it’s not asking too big a favor, check by the rig on your way west,” Duane said.
The two men drove off without making any promises.
Duane went to his rig and worked all day. It was hot, but he found that he preferred being out of town to being in town.
The pageant rehearsal that night was listless compared to the first rehearsal. The new had worn off so quickly that only about half as many people showed up.
Jenny had made a few script changes. Duane, in his role as George Washington, no longer had to throw a silver dollar across the arena. That had been scratched because of the danger that the silver dollar might hit somebody. Instead, Duane was to cross the icy Delaware in a boat.
Duane pointed out that the dusty rodeo arena did not look much like an icy river.
“And if it did, how would I get across it?” he asked.
“Oh, Duane, you can just be in a motorboat,” Jenny said. “Somebody can pull it around the arena behind a pickup. Don’t be literal. Use your imagination a little.”
“I am using it,” Duane assured her. “I’m using it to imagine how damn silly I’ll look being pulled around the arena in
a motorboat.”
“Stop complaining, Duane,” Jacy said. “I’ve had to do sillier things than that in a movie.”
She had come in right on time, bringing his dog and his children. She sat on the grass studying a hymnal. Barbette wiggled and kicked on a blanket at her feet. Little Mike indulged in an orgy of climbing, going over the fence and then climbing right back over.
“You don’t look too cheerful, honey pie,” Jacy said, when Duane sat down beside her. “Come to supper after the rehearsal. Nellie’s making pasta. We’ll watch a movie or something.”
Duane felt grateful for the invitation. Going home to an empty house and listening to Junior Nolan practice his coyote calls was not enticing. Still, thinking about going to Jacy’s house made him feel hesitant. He didn’t answer right away. Jacy continued to leaf through the hymnbook, occasionally humming to herself. When she looked at him again she seemed amused.
“Don’t strain your brain, sweetie,” she said. “If you’re not up to social life tonight, just forget it.”
“No, I want to come,” he said quickly.
“I guess I make you nervous, don’t I?” she said.
“Well, I got in the habit of feeling I shouldn’t intrude,” he said.
“A person who’s invited isn’t intruding,” Jacy pointed out. “Besides, it’s mostly your own family you’d be intruding on. You’re being a touch too sensitive. We’re just gonna eat pasta and watch a movie.”
“I didn’t think it was possible to be too sensitive,” Duane said. “When’s dinner, then?”
“I don’t know, Duane, now I feel like I’ve pressured you,” Jacy said. “If you’d just said yes right away it would have been fine, but now I’m getting nervous. Maybe you would be intruding.”
Duane felt annoyed with himself. He had finicked around, for no reason, and complicated a simple invitation. Or at least it should have been simple, but in fact it involved Jacy and he didn’t have a simple feeling about her. He wasn’t in love with her, but not being in love and having a simple feeling were different things.
“I guess we’ll have to work up to this a little longer,” Jacy said, looking a little depressed.
“No, we don’t really,” he said. “When you asked me it just made me feel shy for a minute. It’s silly. I’d like to come and eat.
“I guess it’s partly that you’re doing better with my family than I’ve ever done,” he added. “I feel like I should keep my fingers crossed and stay out of the way.”
“It’s easy to do things with other people’s children,” Jacy said. “You aren’t responsible for them, so you can relax.”
She looked at him quizzically for a moment.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Let’s pretend this conversation was just a rehearsal. We’ve just been rehearsing getting to know one another again, after thirty years.”
She looked at him and shut the hymnal.
“Take two,” she said. “You don’t look too cheerful, honey pie. Come to dinner. Nellie’s making pasta. We’ll watch a movie or something.”
“Fine,” Duane said. “I’ll help you set the table.”
CHAPTER 53
SHORTY RODE TO LOS DOLORES WITH HIM FOR OLD times’ sake. But instead of lolling in the seat, licking himself, Shorty stood up with his paws on the dashboard. He watched the Mercedes just ahead. Part of the road to Los Dolores was dirt, and when they turned off the pavement the Mercedes disappeared into the dust. Shorty immediately began to whimper.
Julie had ridden with him too. When Shorty began to whimper she pounded him on the head.
“Shut up, you slop dog,” she said. She pounded him some more, but Shorty continued to whimper.
“Honk, so I can ride with them,” Julie said. “I hate riding with a slop dog.”
“Don’t be so impatient,” Duane said, relieved to see that Julie had not become a total angel under Jacy’s tutelage.
“I suppose you’re a big-time chef now, like your sister,” he said.
“I am not,” Julie said. “Jack and I are cutting a record.”
“Cutting a record?” Duane said. “Where?”
“Right in the house,” Julie said. “There’s all sorts of equipment.”
“What song is it you’re recording?” Duane asked, intrigued.
“Just a song,” Julie said.
“Punk or country-and-western?” he asked.
Julie snickered. “Punk,” she said. “Jack and I wrote it.”
“That’s great news,” Duane said. “Maybe you two will become rich songwriters pretty soon. You can take care of me in my old age.”
Julie managed to push Shorty into the floorboards. She held him down with her feet.
“Sing me the song,” Duane suggested.
“No, it might shock you,” Julie said.
“Up until a few days ago I lived with you and Jack and Nellie and your mother,” he said. “Nothing could possibly shock me.”
“The song’s called ‘Vaseline,’” Julie said. “It’s about getting off.”
“Julie, you found the one combination that could shock me,” Duane said.
“I warned you,” Julie said.
“Who have you been getting off with?” Duane asked. “That’s the aspect that shocks me.”
“Oh, Daddy, it’s just about masturbation,” Julie said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“That’s a relief,” Duane said.
By the time they reached Los Dolores Duane’s sense of hesitancy had returned. He felt strangely reluctant to go into the house. It felt as if he were entering a world where he didn’t belong.
He was obviously the only one who felt that way, though. Dickie’s pickup was there, and Dickie himself was in the large kitchen, rolling a joint. Little Mike wandered around, crooning in his own language. Jacy put Barbette on the kitchen table. She kicked her feet and looked solemnly at her uncle.
“Look around, Duane,” Jacy said. “I’ll help Nellie get dinner started.”
Duane wandered through the house, amazed at the number of books it contained. Room after room had bookshelves filled with books from floor to ceiling. The halls were also lined with books—thousands of them. Duane had never supposed that any one person would want, or own, so many books.
He found Minerva in a den with a large TV and thousands more books. Minerva was watching a baseball game. A picture of a youthful Steve McQueen sat on the TV—perhaps the rumor about him passing through Thalia had been true after all. Several other framed photographs sat on a desk. They were all of beautiful women who looked vaguely familiar.
“This is quite a house,” he said.
“Yeah, you get real good reception down here,” Minerva said.
“And when you get tired of TV you could always find something to read,” Duane said.
“I’d hate to have to read all these books,” Minerva said. “That much reading could put your eyes out.”
Duane wandered down a long book-lined hall. He heard music, partially muffled, coming from behind a door. He knocked, and Jack opened the door. Jack wore dark glasses with rhinestone frames, and very heavy headphones of a sort once associated with test pilots. Now that the door was opened, the music was no longer muffled. The room was full of expensive-looking sound equipment, plus several guitars and a small piano.
Julie was dancing around with a singer’s mike in one hand.
“What’s up? We’re working,” Jack said.
“I don’t think anything is up, unless dinner’s ready,” Duane said.
“I hope it’s ready, I’m starving,” Jack said, and shut the door in his face.
Duane wandered outside. There was a nice patio and a large pool. He had not lost his sense of awkwardness. He was there, but he felt left out. He started to go back into the kitchen but happened to pass the kitchen window. Jacy and Dickie were sitting at the table, finishing the joint. Dickie was talking with some animation, and Jacy seemed to be listening. Nellie worked at the stove, and Minerva was slicing tomat
oes.
Such a scene would have been unimaginable to him a few weeks, even a few days, earlier. Now it was both imaginable and visible. What he wasn’t able to imagine was himself in the midst of it.
After a while, Nellie came out and set the table.
“Mrs. d’Olonne wants to eat out here,” she said. “Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Duane said.
Nellie came back with the pasta, and Minerva brought the tomatoes before going back to her ball game. The twins appeared and immediately filled their plates. Dickie came out, filled a plate and disappeared into the house with it. Then Jacy came out, bringing a bottle of wine. She stopped behind Duane’s chair, put a hand on his shoulder and filled his wineglass.
“Have a little vino,” she said. “Maybe you won’t be so nervous.”
“He’s always nervous,” Jack remarked, expertly twirling pasta around his fork.
“Who can blame him with a child like you under his roof,” Jacy said. “A child who steals vaseline.”
Jack flashed her a brilliant grin, as if proud to be labeled a vaseline thief.
“He steals vaseline?” Duane asked. “Why?”
“As an aid to autoerotic practices, one assumes,” Jacy said.
“Oh,” Duane said.
“You knew that,” Julie said. “I told you about our song.”
“I guess I was hoping you were kidding,” Duane said, looking at Jacy.
“Eat your fettucine, Duane,” Jacy said. “Let Aunt Jacy worry about these kids.”
She reached over and ruffled Jack’s hair.
“What’s a little vaseline between friends?” she said.
“I’ll pay you back if our song gets on the charts,” Jack said.
“I’m thinking of taking these kids to Italy with me when I go back,” Jacy said. “I might make them into little Romans. They don’t have far to go as it is. I’ll get them Hondas and turn them loose in a piazza.”
“I hope you’re not going back before the centennial,” Duane said.
“Why, would Adam miss his Eve?” Jacy asked.