Chapter 3
When Bernie finally opened his eyes, the sun was pouring in through the half-drawn drapes and he knew by its brightness that the day was well under way. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was probably close to noon. He wasn't even up yet and already it was time to start thinking about going to work.
He glanced at the sleeping form beside him. He studied the outline of her face and the long expanse of her neck and her skin, coarse from the sun and already creased with the first wrinkles of age. He leaned forward till his mouth was very close to hers and looked at the thin line of her mouth. He thought about kissing her, but didn't do it. He looked at the shoulders that curved down from her throat in softer, lighter colored mounds. He thought about placing his hands on them. He looked at her breasts that were exposed among the tangle of bedspread. He frowned.
He moved away carefully so as not to wake her and eased himself up from the bed. He dressed quickly, then looked out at the patio through the large picture window beside the front door of Jan's apartment. He saw Madge on one of the patio chairs, sunning herself.
Bernie frowned. He was hoping to slip away quietly, but he knew he would have to talk with Madge when he passed her. He thought about waiting, but suddenly was in a hurry to get home. Even another minute was too long to wait.
"Hi," he said to Madge as he approached her. "Good morning," she said. "Nice day for a tan."
Madge smiled slightly and adjusted the top half of her suit. She'd pulled it down low so the sun could even out the color of her skin, but adjusted it when Bernie approached her.
"Jan still out?"
Bernie nodded.
Madge picked up her bottle of suntan lotion and handed it to Bernie, then turned onto her stomach. Bernie sat on the edge of the deck chair and began spreading the lotion over her skin. He tried to forget he was in a hurry.
"Feel good?"
"Uh-huh!" She groaned with pleasure. After a while she stopped groaning and Bernie thought she might have dozed off. But she hadn't, because suddenly she spoke.
"Mike and Sarah ready for the trip?"
"Tomorrow."
"I'll bet you're gonna miss him."
"I suppose."
Madge turned over again and Bernie handed the bottle back to her, watching-while she applied lotion to her neck and shoulders. He was aware she was much prettier than Jan. She was also younger.
Actually Bernie had known Madge longer than he'd known Jan. He'd frequented the Pancake House downtown ever since he'd first moved to Phoenix a year ago. It was through Madge that Bernie had met Jan when she became Madge's neighbor across the patio. Jan had taken to Bernie right away. But for some reason Madge and Bernie had never hit it off. It seemed all they did was fight.
"Are you going to take Jan back to the Post to pick up her car?" Madge said finally.
"I don't know," Bernie said. "I don't know how long she's going to sleep. I should really be getting home. It's almost time to start getting ready for work."
"So why drive all the way to your place? You can have lunch here. It's past noon already."
"I suppose I could."
"Why don't you go see if you can wake Jan up? I got some lunch meat and junk in the refrigerator."
Bernie started across the patio. Then he stopped. He turned back to Madge.
"Hey, you can drop Jan there, can't you?" Madge looked at him, but didn't answer. "I really have to get home. I have to stop at the store."
"Suit yourself," Madge gave him a look of disgust, then scooped up her lotion bottle and headed toward her apartment.
"Well, can you?" Bernie said.
"Sure I can," Madge said, turning at the doorway. "See you around."
"Well, what are you mad about?"
"Nothing," Madge said.
"Bull!"
"Look, Bernie, I don't have to take any crap from you! I said I'd take Jan to her car and I'll see you later. Okay?"
"If you've got something on your mind, why don't you just say it?"
"I have nothing to say," she replied.
"Listen!" Bernie tried to control his anger, but it showed as his face reddened. He followed Madge into the apartment, pushing the door shut. "I told you right at the beginning, I don't want to answer to anyone. I don't have to. I told you that right from the start. Jan is your friend-"
"Big deal!"
"I never-"
"Bull-oney, Madge! You know as well as I do. I like Jan. You know that. But we have an-understanding."
"You're screwing her, aren't you?"
"Oh, for God's sake!"
"Well, aren't you? Or what is it you do over there, play checkers?"
"So what?" He felt growing disgust.
"So, like I said, she's my friend. And she's got lots of friends. But she's no whore. She turns it down like you turn down drinks. But with you it's different and you know damn well it is. Maybe I been pushing it. Maybe I figured you could do something for each other. But if that's all you're gonna do, then goddammit get off the pot!"
"I don't think it's any of your business."
"The hell it isn't!" Madge's voice began to tremble as her anger increased. "Jan is a great person. I never met anyone before in this town I could even talk to. I been going nuts in this phony town with these phony bastards I have to kiss-ass with every day. I thought you were different. Maybe I was wrong. So, to hell with you!"
"I'll just disappear. Dammit, I'll just disappear!"
"Well, why don't you?" she screamed. She covered her face with the towel, trying to check the sobs, mumbling almost under her breath, "You son-of-a-bitch."
"Aw, Madge, come on," Bernie said harshly.
"Son-of-a-bitch, I don't wanna talk to you. Just get out of here. I don't know you."
"Madge?"
He reached a hand toward her, but Madge pushed it away. She got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door after her. Bernie went to the bathroom door and stood for a moment. He listened to her crying. Moisture had been accumulating behind his own eyes, and finally it spilled over. Damn! He was glad she didn't see him. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't stop it.
"Hey, Madge? I'm sorry."
"I said, get out of here, you son-of-a-bitch!" He heard the sharp sound of glass shattering from the other side of the door, and after it the sharp scream of her voice. "You goddamn, queer son-of-a-bitch!"
"That's not true," Bernie said, but he said it under his breath. "Not true!"
He left the apartment and headed home. As he drove he thought about Mike and under his breath he said, "Not true!" But even as he said it his foot pressed harder on the accelerator, because he knew he was in a hurry to get home....
Madge sat down on the edge of the bathtub and stared down at the broken lotion bottle. She watched the little rivulet of yellow lotion crawl along the bottom of the tub, moving like a bloated caterpillar toward the drain. She picked up a piece of the broken glass and dropped it into the trash basket under the sink.
What a waste, she thought. What a goddamn waste!
She studied her reflection in the pier-glass that was part of the bathroom door. She cursed at the eyes that stared back at her from the mirror. She was furious at them because of her outburst. She remembered his pained look and his desperation and she scowled at the thought of him reaching toward her, pleading with her, trying to make everything seem all right when everything was all wrong.
God, how she would like to understand! How she would like to say, okay, see you later, and say hello to Mike for me! How she would like to be able to smile at him and joke and spend a night with him and let it go at that! How she would like to feel his hands on her skin without the suntan lotion as an excuse! She smiled and then she laughed and left the mirror.
Let's face it. She moved back into the living room. She stared absently through the window at the empty patio. Let's face it, she thought, it wasn't Jan she'd been arguing for, it wasn't Jan she was crying for. It never had been.
Bernie had been right. He and Jan had an understanding. She frowned in disgust. Jan had never really cared. She might have if she wanted to, but she never allowed it in herself. She'd been hurt too many times. That's the way she explained it. She would never allow herself to be hurt that way again.
Or, if she did care, she kept it to herself. If she did cry, she did it like Madge-in the bathroom with the door locked.
Poor pretty dumb bitch Madge! Why couldn't she be like her neighbor across the patio? Why couldn't she just reach out and grab? Why couldn't Madge grab anyone-like everyone grabbed Madge? Sure, Madge was easy. Any guy who came into the Pancake House could find that out. Practically anyone who made a pass could score with Madge. Why couldn't Madge be the same? Why couldn't she grab at something she wanted?
No wonder she was easy! No wonder she couldn't say no! She was learning from them all. She was nodding so she could hear the next question and memorize it and promise herself to practice it. Next time ... next time ... she was a student learning through practice. Next time she would try out what she had learned.
Next time. But each time he got further away. Even the thing between him and Jan was starting to fade. She had pushed them together when she'd seen Jan's spark of interest. How else could she have kept him coming around? But even that was fading. Even that was giving way to something else....
Madge felt her face redden as she thought of herself in the patio chair. What a perverted mind! My God, what a twisted broad! Waiting in the patio chair that he would have to pass in order to escape her neighbor's bed. Pushing him into that bed on the strength of a cheap drunk because she didn't have what it took to pull him into her own. Using her neighbor as a battering ram to break down his fibre and then waiting around, hoping for seconds.
"Oh, mother I"
Using her neighbor with her ridiculous flat boobs and mannish laugh to sway his taste from a hard belly to a soft one.
"I've got to get hold of myself...."
Covering her own full breasts when she saw him coming-covering them and turning over so he couldn't see them because they might frighten him away.
I'm losing-my-mind!
Madge felt her face sting. She folded her arms in front of her as though she were ashamed of her beautiful body. She dropped onto the couch, pushing her knees tightly together. She pressed her hands down over her groin, as if to find something there that might miraculously have blossomed, and she shook her head. Suddenly she laughed.
It's not fair!
She knew the anguish of physical fulfillment. Many times and in the dark the pain was always the same. She'd fought and demanded and lain many times with the warm contentment of hard flesh enveloping her, making her aware that she was beautiful, that she was alive. And every time it was good.
It wasn't fair that she should be saddled with this-hunger. Like a child-like a high-school child's infatuations, as though expecting to find something for the first time, something new and exciting and wonderful. It wasn't fair that it was always good-but never good enough.
Maybe he would disappear. It would be better if he just went away, the son-of-a-bitch. The useless son-of-a-bitch! What good was a person like that? Like a cardboard cutout. Pretty to look at, a perfect reproduction of a man, but, inside-nothing I Why the hell was she so worked up about Bernie Evans anyway? Who the hell was Bernie Evans? The phony bastard-to hell with him! Worse than that, why didn't he just die?
Why couldn't he just be dead!