She nodded.
We kissed for hours every day. Now that school was out, we had even more time for kissing. Generally I took her into the shadows under the bridge, but now it was getting dark, nobody around, so we kissed and kissed in the open, in front of the trees, the river, God, and everybody. You learn to kiss by doing and doing it. She puts her whole mouth into you, you put your mouth into her, the world narrows down to this hot jumping junction of mouths, the maximum sloppy sensation of feeling each other up with your tongues.
If sex is a whole lot better than this, I thought, I will die.
When Arnita touched me, I got hard as a big rock candy mountain — sometimes she brushed my leg and I thought my skull might explode. When we made out, she pretended not to notice that big old thing rambling against her thigh, but a few times I could have sworn she pushed back against it.
So here was I, weeks later, still standing there by the river kissing the hell out of her. She liked the way I did it. By that time I was the virgin of a thousand handjobs, the readiest, horniest virgin on earth, a walking throbbing pillar of unquenchable readiness. But the idea of actually doing it with a real girl — my delicious strawberry candy– tasting girl as opposed to the parade of gorgeous fevered girls in my head — that still scared me. As much as I was dying to try it. I had to watch out or the next kiss might spin out of control, getting hotter and wilder each second, a little whimper —
I broke it off. “God! Cut that out!”
She chuckled. “You are kinda sparky today. Can I call you Sparky?”
She was crazy. Not just brain-damaged, but pure sexy crazy. She had caused me to lose all interest in normal girls. Dianne Frillinger had been like kissing a refrigerator. Give me hot-blooded crazy Arnita any day, confusing my lips, driving my fingers to the brink of insanity.
We were not getting much homework done.
“Whoa, slow down,” she said, coming up for air.
“Mm, that feels good.”
“Take your hand off there, mister!”
That made me laugh. “Mister?”
“Mister Bad Guy, that’s you.” She tried to slide her arm through mine.
I pulled away and walked out in front to let my problem subside.
Headlights flashed over us. My neck hairs stood up — you didn’t see many fastback Mustangs in this park after sunset.
Red Martin parked by the swing sets. He got out and walked a straight line toward us.
He wore his Titan jersey, number 42. A fresh crew cut made his head appear even pinker in the gloom. “Hello Five Spot, how you doin’, ol’ pal?”
I ducked the hand snaking out toward my face. “Well, if it ain’t Dudley Ronald Martin.”
He smirked at my boldness. “Arnita, looking good. I dig the short hair.”
“My name is Linda,” she said.
“Yeah? Since when?”
She caught my warning glance. “No, you’re right, I am Arnita,” she said. “Sometimes I get it mixed up. Do I know you?”
“I sure as hell think so. You’ve only got me arrested twice now,” said Red. “We heard you might be a little bit —” He drew a circle around his ear with one finger. “More than a little, I’d say. I can’t wait to tell my lawyer you didn’t even recognize me. Five Spot, you’re a witness to that.”
“You’re Red Martin,” she said. “I know who you are. But you shaved off all your hair.”
I stood up straighter. “What are you doing here, Red?”
“Hey, if y’all gonna do the interracial love thang in a public park, you can’t act surprised when word gets out. Or did you forget you’re still in Mis’sippi?”
“Oh so you’ve joined the Klan?”
“Ha ha, so funny. I came to talk to her.”
“What about?” said Arnita.
He glanced over his shoulder, then back to her. “Look, this is serious shit you started. The district attorney would like to drop the charges, but your mother won’t let him. She calls him two or three times a week. It’s bullshit, Arnita, and you know it. I didn’t hurt you. It wasn’t me. No matter what the hell you think you remember.”
“Sure it was.” She eyed him. “You knocked me off my bike and drove off.”
“When I drove off, you were okay,” said Red. “You were mad, you were cussing me, remember? I came back around the block to see if you were all right — that’s when I saw you laid out on the ground. And the cops pulled me over.”
“That’s not how it happened,” she said.
“But you don’t remember exactly? You don’t know for sure.” His voice was dead calm. “Look at me. Do I seem dangerous to you?”
Arnita looked him over. “Not at the moment.”
I edged between them. I wasn’t exactly helpless, but Red was big enough to toss me in the river if he wanted to.
“Look, Arnita, you’re gonna mess up my life and yours too,” he said. “You were kinda drunk that night, you mighta fell off that bike on your own. If you press charges, it’ll all have to come out. Understand? The drinking, the white boyfriends, the pot you were smoking at Charlene’s that night — everything would have to come out in court. Is that what you want?”
I saw a glimmer of fear in Arnita’s eyes.
Red said, “That brain damage must be worse than I heard, you down here making out with ol’ Five Spot. I mean, come on, if you want a white boy, you can have me. I am offering you a chance to be smart here.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I told her. “He’s not supposed to even talk to you, much less threaten you. They can put him in jail just for that.”
“Down, Spot,” he said. “I ain’t threatening anybody.”
Arnita blinked her deep brown eyes at me. “You don’t believe anything he says, do you?”
“No. And neither should you.”
She glanced at Red, then me. “Do you think — is it possible I could be wrong about that night?”
Red’s eyes lit up. “Damn right it’s possible.”
“What?” I cried. “No!”
“Red knocked me down. He drove off and left me. But I do remember yelling at him as he left. Does that mean something happened after that?”
“No!” I seized her hands. “Don’t do this. He’s trying to confuse you.”
She blinked. “You know the whole thing has always been real hazy for me.”
“Don’t let him put ideas in your head.” I clasped her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, that’s fair,” Red said. “Just when she decides to start telling the truth?”
“Fair, Red?” I lashed out. “Did you just use the word fair?”
“Aw come on, Five Spot, you know all that other was kid stuff. Okay? That was all in good fun. Arnita’s right. This whole thing is just a big misunderstanding.”
“That’s not what I said.” Arnita crossed her arms. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
He loomed over her. “Drop the charges. All you have to do is tell your mother you’re not sure, and the whole thing goes away. Just like that. Everything goes back like it was.”
“Not me,” she said, with an unhappy smile. “I don’t go back like I was.”
“I guess not.” Red squared his shoulders. “Look, whatever happened, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Don’t send me to jail.”
“You don’t have to listen to this,” I said softly. “He’s just trying to save his own hide.”
She turned to study me. “Why are you so suspicious of him?”
“Why do you think? He’s devoted his life to making Tim and me miserable.”
“Aw come on, that was playing around,” Red said. “I was just having fun. You play ball with me, I guarantee I will leave you alone.”
“I think it was brave of him to come here and talk,” Arnita said.
Red preened at the word “brave.” I didn’t like the way this was headed. “He’s not brave, he’s scared,” I said. “And desperate. He’ll say anything to get
you to drop those charges.” Of course scared and desperate applied even more directly to me. I would say anything to keep Arnita from knowing that my hand grabbed the wheel of that car.
I had to protect her, even from myself. “Don’t listen to him,” I said. “Don’t listen to me either. You have to do what’s right.”
“All I’m asking,” Red said, “is for you to think it over. I’ve got your number, I’ll call you.”
“Oh, no.” I felt my blood heating up. “If you try to call her, or come anywhere near her again, I swear I will call the police.”
“Woooo. Five Spot, why so uptight? You need to get a hobby or something.”
Arnita glanced between us. “Why do you call him that?”
“Tell me you never noticed?” Red’s smirk widened into a grin. “You been spending too much time on the front of his head. Take a look around the back sometime.” He hiked up his jeans, strolled off to his Mustang.
The roar of his unmuffled engine trembled the ground. His tires shrieked as he fishtailed out of the park.
To me Red seemed ridiculous, even a little pitiful, but I could tell he had made an impression on Arnita.
“I never noticed there were five of them.” She spread her fingers to touch all the spots. “Why does he tease you like that?”
“Why don’t you ask him? You guys are so chummy. Which I really do not understand, considering he ran over you and left you for dead.” I meant this to sound casual and ironic but it came out childish, sullen.
“Daniel, are you jealous of him?”
“No. I’m worried about you. Your mother won’t be all that thrilled to hear you’re hanging out with Red Martin.”
“You are! You’re jealous!”
“Red’s dangerous. I don’t want you talking to him.”
“Hush,” she said, touching my lips. “Don’t tell me who I can talk to. Okay?”
“Okay. Wow. Excuse me,” I said.
We walked home in silence. I tried to make it light again, but her mood had changed. Maybe my sarcasm, or the subject of Prom Night. It felt like our first fight.
Mrs. Beecham sang from the porch: “Musgrove, you’re late! Where have y’all been?”
Arnita walked up the steps and threw herself down in the swing. I followed her up on the porch and stood with my arms folded, looking down at her.
“Uh-huh,” said Mrs. Beecham. “I see.” Her slow blink evolved into a stare that settled on me.
I coughed. Was I supposed to say something?
“Musgrove?” she said.
“What?”
“What is going on here?”
“Nothing!”
“Yes there is.” She drilled new holes in me with those eyes.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe there is.”
Arnita got up and went into the house. She slammed the door behind her.
Her mother lowered her voice. “What the hell is the matter with you? She’s not all right and you know it. Does she seem all right to you? Does she seem to have control of her mental faculties to you? No. But here you come, taking advantage of her. I thought you were better than that.”
“I love her, Mrs. Beecham.” I said it loud enough for Arnita to hear.
Ella Beecham winced. “Aw, shit. No you don’t, crazy boy! You might think you do, but you don’t.”
“She loves me too, I’m pretty sure.”
“Are you out of your mind? You think you can go with a colored girl? Well, just forget it. You can’t. Not with my girl.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. But now I’m just . . . I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“No, now, I ain’t having that kind of mess. Not from you.” Ella shooed me off her porch. “If that’s how it is, don’t be coming around here. No sir. You stay away.”
Panic laid a cold finger against my neck. Stay away? Was she joking? I couldn’t stay away from Arnita. Nothing could keep me away. If Ella Beecham locked the door I would climb through a window. If she locked the window I’d break it. If she boarded it up, I would go find an ax.
When I was with Arnita I was vibrating, every atom of me whizzing, sending off sparks. Riding my bike to her house, knowing I would soon taste her lips . . . it made the pedals fly under my feet.
“Go on home now,” her mother was saying.
I climbed onto my bike. “Tell her I’ll call her tonight.”
“Don’t call,” she said. “She don’t need to hear from you.”
“I will call,” I said, “and I’ll be here tomorrow, like always.”
A furrow opened in her brow. “Musgrove, try to hang on to whatever little shred of dignity you have left. Don’t you get it? We don’t need you around here. We got no more jobs for you. You just ride on home.”
I pretended to take her advice. I rode away knowing that tomorrow I would come back and try again.
13
TIM HAD BEEN BURNING some kind of fruit incense, grape or blackberry, and he had Elton cued up on the eight-track singing “Daniel” in my honor as we drove off to Christ! rehearsal. He smacked my knee. “How’s it going with your little girlfriend?”
“You know what they say. Love is strange.” I laid my arm down the side of the car and told him about our visit from Red. I told him that Arnita was examining her memories of Prom Night, and our Lie was beginning to outgrow the original crime. “Any day now she’s gonna remember. Only now she’ll truly hate me. With good reason.”
Tim said, “Oh Skippy, don’t tell me you’re still feeling the urge to confess? I thought you had gotten over that.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes when I’m with her I think, Why not just tell her? It was an accident. She’ll forgive you. But it’s too late. I’ve been lying to her from the very beginning.”
Tim said, “For her own good, Skippy. Don’t forget that. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Stay close to her. You’ve done great so far. Don’t screw it up.”
“I have this feeling she’s gonna break up with me,” I said. “Maybe I should wait and tell her when she already hates me.”
Tim said, “You don’t think you’re actually in love with her, do you?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t lie, not about this. “Yeah, I am. Or at least I think I am. I don’t know how I feel. Did you ever feel like that?”
“You’re the one that goes around feeling everything all the time,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get rid of Red.”
“School’s out,” I said. “You mean he’s still bothering you?”
“He never stopped! He drives by our house all the time with that super-duper muffler of his, it shakes the glass in the windows. The other night he took these sacks of garbage and tore ’em open and scattered ’em all over our yard! Can you imagine how crazy that made my mother? You know what a clean freak she is!”
“You saw him do that?”
“No, but I know it was him.”
“I think you’re being paranoid,” I said. “What if it was some dogs that got ahold of your garbage? And anyway, doesn’t Red have to drive past your house to get to school? They live up on Bluff Park Drive.”
“I should have known you’d take his side,” Tim said. “Just forget it.” He put the Pinto onto I-20, heading east.
“Why do you let him get to you so bad?” I said. “He can’t do anything to us. He’s the one in trouble. I called him Dudley to his face the other day, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.”
“He’s not human,” Tim said. “He doesn’t deserve to be called a human being. If you wiped him out you would be doing the rest of mankind a favor. Like killing a mosquito, or a poisonous snake.”
“But his mama loves him,” I said, “and he’s kind to the furry little creatures of the woodlands.”
“I’m not joking,” said Tim. “I don’t joke about Red. He’s the enemy. The spawn of Satan.”
“Well he’s not exactly my best friend,” I said, “but I don’t think I’m quite as obsessed as you. He leaves me alone
more, because I tend to ignore him.”
Tim frowned in disgust. “You’re like my mother. You think the solution to any problem is to ignore it.”
“Thanks. I always did want to be more like your mother.”
“Your lips are all chapped from making out with that girl,” he said. “You ought to get a ChapStick. They only cost like fifty cents.”
I rubbed my lip, thinking, What a weird thing to say.
“Wait, shut up, what was that?” He lunged for the volume knob.
“. . . to the capital city for a very special concert,” the deejay said, “Saturday, August the eighteenth — by special arrangement with Ruffino-Vaughn Promotions — tickets on sale today — it’s our great privilege here at WDSU, Today’s Hottest Hits —”
“Come on, asshole!” Tim smacked the dashboard. “Who?”
“— live and in person, one night only, at the Mississippi Coliseum . . . Sonny and Cher!”
Tim veered off the road and back on. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Hey, don’t get us killed.”
He jammed on the gas. “We’re going to the Coliseum.”
“Now?”
“Hell yes! You got cash?”
“Like, four bucks.”
“I think I can cover both of us, as long as they’re not more than twenty apiece.”
“What about Christ!?”
“Skippy, think! What if it sells out and we can’t get tickets? Can you even imagine? We would have to die. We’d have to kill each other in some sort of ritualistic fashion.”
We sang along with Cher on her latest hit, “I Saw a Man (And He Danced With His Wife),” and before it was over we were taking the exit for the Mississippi Coliseum. Ours was the only car crossing the vast parking lot. “Obviously we’re their only real fans in this whole stupid town,” I said.
“This is truly pathetic,” Tim said. “Let’s face it, we are trapped in a time and place where we do not belong.”
I had to agree.
One box-office window was open, occupied by a lady with beehive hair, filing her nails.
Tim said, “You have tickets for Sonny and Cher?”
“Sure. How many?”
“Two, I guess. Two, Durwood? Or should we get four and take somebody?”