Chapter 4
"Shut up!"
Jim felt his voice carrying him away, and he had to use it. "Shut up, Arlene! Maria, don't listen to her. She's nuts... crazy!"
Jim heard himself roaring, and his voice reverberated back at him from the mirrors and the stacked glasses. He could hear Arlene's quick, ripping comment, but he couldn't force himself to look at her.
"Okay, Jim, who's crazy? Who's really crazy?"
Jim felt himself slam the counter. "You arranged this whole business, Arlene. You think I'm blind? You had to get right back in your old saddle again, didn't you? You had to get back to her..."
Arlene's voice went icy cold. "Go on, Jim. Go on and tell her, tell her all about me. But what about you? You and your dirty pictures!"
Jim clamped his mouth shut. It was a lie-he didn't care about the pictures-maybe he never had-Maybe, on the other hand, she did. And with Arlene's set-up with that frequent young stuff in the house so fully displayed, what did he need of stupid photographs? But Arlene lied. She always lied.
It seemed years ago that he had first learned his wife lied. She did it constantly, and if he said anything about it, she only made it worse. To Arlene, there was no such thing as truth in the world, yet there was no lying for her, there was only her enormous unsatisfied hunger.
He had supported his wife, stuck up for her often enough. He had excused her many times, but when it came now to being squarely in front of Maria and then hearing Arlene lie, it became too much. Of course, he had roared like a bull and had felt foolish doing it, and now he couldn't start in all over again.
He had somehow to control the situation. He had to keep pushing back the lines of that triangle of which he was a key part, so that the steel walls of the thing would not crush and destroy them all. But how could he do it?
Maria's face and lips glowed with a pale light. Her eyes seemed very blue, almost splinter-like, and her lower lip trembled slightly at the right corner as it used to when she was scared or something. Arlene's face showed nothing. Her eyes held a deep and expressionless look, but Jim knew his wife too well.
She hung poised on a slim, thin edge of explosion. One thin blue vein close to her hairline in her forehead jutted out too prominently. Arlene, when she got that angry, could kill. She never had, but Jim had felt the vicious animal ferocity that would claw and rip savagely into any opponent and stop at nothing.
"Maria," he said softly trying to avoid Arlene's impending explosion, "I'm sorry we came. I don't want to see you hurt again."
Maria tensed up and shouted at him. "Me hurt! But, Jim, it's you who's been hurt. Look at you! You're no longer a man! She's ruined you! Look at you..." Maria's voice dropped off, and her eyes slicked over with a wet film.
Almost tottering, she still stood in front of him, and under the soft blonde waves of her hair, he knew she was trying to control her face. An expression of revulsion and pain flooded into it. He couldn't stand to see that soft slickness of her lips or her teeth, white and pure under the pale line of lipstick.
Arlene spoke before he did. "You tell him, Maria. Go on and tell him he's a castrated old horse. No guts! No nothing!" Arlene laughed again wildly, and to that moment, if he had tried, Jim might have caught his anger, and held it back, but it boiled over.
He turned towards Arlene, yelled at her, "You lesbian! What have you ever been but a damn lesbian? You and your little girls-you and your stupid hunger. Shut up and leave us alone..."
He tried, but he didn't keep track of the argument after that. Something else had happened. He simply followed his words as they worked their way through Maria's eyes. He had lashed out at Arlene, but he had missed her. He had struck Maria instead. He had cut her to the quick.
He had yelled lesbian at Arlene, but Maria had been hurt! Like a little girl, Maria Wyzerk stood there and trembled as if struck by a savage lash.
What could he say? It would have been kinder, better, to say nothing. But he spoke blindly, trying somehow to ease her pain. "Maria, please don't cry."...
Maria listened to her former husband, and his statement stung her like yellowjackets routed from their home beneath an old board. She was torn apart. She listened to Jim-to them-and she wanted only to get out of there. Outside in the hot July sunshine, she could escape and disappear. Her life had been settled, peaceful, and now suddenly, out of nowhere, these people had come and fractured it into jagged, raw splinters.
She kept staring at Arlene, wondering why she was there. What possible twist of chance could have brought her there? Or was it something else? Did the witch have the power of finding her even in Hollyhock-even under the false name of Sue Belden? She wanted to kill her, but she had no possible way. She could imagine herself holding a gun, maybe, but Arlene was stronger than any of her attempts to kill...
Yet she had to do something. She had to try. She had to put a stop to this growing, grotesque nonsense which was destroying her life. She began yelling, "Get out, you damn bitch. Get out of here!" Her words rose with frightful intensity. "Stay out of my life, Please! You've killed me, and you've killed Jim. Isn't that enough for you? What more do you want? Get out!"
Arlene smiled softly, raised her hand as if she were holding a fragile object in her palm. "Don't be nasty, Maria. I'm not going. I like it here, and besides, you two are my little pets. My precious, darling, little pets. And you know what, Maria? I've got you... I've got both of you just like two little flies, in your little stinking houses, in your little stinking rooms."
"No, damn you, I don't believe it. You couldn't have found me!"
Arlene laughed. Her laughter began with strange small clickings, but then it rose suddenly big and filled the room. Arlene's laugh horrified Maria. She ran away from behind the counter. She searched frantically for some way of stopping it, but she had nothing.
She went back to the register, took out a quarter and went to the juke-box. She turned the volume so high that cups and saucers vibrated on the back shelves, but even that massive noise didn't blot out Arlene's laugh. Jim sat hunched over, his eyes closed silently, and Maria felt sorry for him. He had tried to say something for her. At least he had tried to be on her side...
Maria wanted to reach over and touch him. She wanted to bring him comfort, but she stood back against the wall, clenching her hands tight over her pink apron, and knew she couldn't touch him. Arlene was in the way. Arlene would make fun of any gesture of tenderness or love. She would kill it with her laughter and her scorn.
Maria didn't touch him, and Ken Wylie, the local cabby, strolled casually in. He slammed the door in his usual way, scuffed across the floor, and his loud-colored sport coat dangled loosely over his left arm. "Hi, Sue baby," he yelled, "What's the matter, kid? Jeez, what a racket around here! What the hell's going on?"
Mornings, when he came, she smiled. She always had, but she couldn't force it, and she didn't smile now. She wanted to tell him something nice, to thank him for showing up, but she couldn't do that. Without being asked, she poured him a cup of coffee, and then she stood there staring at him.
He caught her look, and glanced up. His chubby face was concerned. "What's up, Sue? What's the matter, baby?"
"It's nothing..."
"Come on, spit it out."
She studied his face, his kind eyes. "Look, Ken, you've always wanted to do something for me. Well, here's your chance. See that woman sitting there. You can throw her out for me. She's rotten. Ken, she's..."
He shrugged his shoulders: "Don't worry, baby. It's already done."
"I'm sorry."
Ken gave her a quick, shy grin, and his stubby nose twisted at a rakish angle. She watched him swagger over to Arlene, and she was sorry she was using him in this way. It didn't seem right to her, yet she had no other out. Jim could do nothing. She could do nothing.
"Come on, sister," Ken said to Arlene, "You're moving out of here."
He stood close to Arlene, and his fat stomach almost pushed into her face, but Arlene didn't even turn.
"Come on, don't play dumb, baby! You're on your way out." Ken clapped a hand on Arlene's shoulder, and Arlene went rigid. The thin remaining laughter drained from her face, and a muscle just to the rear of her eyes, snapped tight. Her mouth snarled something Maria couldn't understand, and Maria half-expected to see Arlene's head jutting up at a showy, somehow enticing angle, as if trying to win over one more man.
Arlene didn't react that way. She whipped around and her teeth showed like those in the jaw of a mad dog. Ken looked at her, and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Sister, I've done all the talking I'm going to do. Now, either you move out peaceful like, or I'll kick you out."
"Go to hell!"
"Man, what's wrong with her?" Ken glanced back at Maria, but Maria could only gesture silently as Arlene exploded in sudden fury. She shoved her cup and saucer off the counter and twisted away from Ken's hands. She did it so violently that her green silk dress practically split across her hips. She slid roughly off the stool and grabbed the edge of the counter. Ken was trying to seize her by the shoulders, but Arlene swung back at him. She had a fork clutched in her right hand. She jabbed it viciously at Ken's face, but Ken ducked and caught her wrist in his right hand. He squeezed hard, the fork dropped.
"You bastard!" Arlene spat out. "Okay," he said quietly, "that's enough of that. You're done playing around."
Maria watched thick layers of muscle ripple under Ken's shirt, and she wondered how often he had been in fights. He almost lifted Arlene from the floor and propelled her towards the door. When he reached it, he gave it a kick open with his foot. For a moment, Arlene clawed against the door jamb, and her violence reached an insane peak. Her words didn't make sense any more, and she was spitting, and her high heels screamed hollowly against the floor.
"Come on, baby, come on! You're going out."
"I'll kill you, you little bastard. I'll kill you!"
"It'd take more than you, Sister."
"I'll get you, and I'll get you good!"
Ken struggled hard. The good-natured glow vanished from his face, and he heaved himself forward, trying to get control of Arlene's squirming body. Arlene's beautiful face turned into a mask of hate and violence, and Maria didn't want to look at it, but she had to watch what Ken was doing.
Arlene's strength seemed incredible, and Ken looked stuck there. He couldn't get her any farther. Suddenly, Arlene tore herself partly away. She brought up her left knee hard, split the hem of her skirt, then drove her other knee into Ken's lower stomach. Ken went pale and hunched over weakly, almost letting go of Arlene.
"Jeeez...!"
"I told you, I'd get you!"
Ken panted briefly, caught his strength, then shoved her out the door. He held her there for one long moment, then lifted his foot and booted her out across the sidewalk. Arlene tumbled, fell to one knee, came up screaming at him.
She didn't try to come back inside. Maria watched her walking off to the right towards the Motel, and Maria didn't dare look at Jim. Ken came struggling back to the counter. He was panting now, and his face looked white in terms of his usual ruddy complexion.
"Wow!" he panted, "You sure got nice friends. What's the matter with that babe, anyway?"
Maria wanted to thank him, but she didn't know how to do it in front of Jim. She took a couple of doughnuts from the rear rack and placed them on a plate in front of Ken. "I'm sorry, Ken. I didn't mean to get you involved. It just happened."
"Forget it. Where'd ya run into her?"
She watched Ken sipping his coffee, and she wished she could belong to a quiet ordinary world, where everything followed normal patterns... where there were no dirty, perverted intrigues.
"Oh, I met her a long time ago. Back East."
Ken shrugged. "How'd she get out here?"
"I don't know."
"How come? Didn't she tell you?"
"No."
Maria remembered his question, and she wondered exactly how it had happened. What had brought that sex-spider back into her life? And why?
She didn't dare look at Jim, and Ken drank his coffee. He finished off his two doughnuts, then lit a cigarette. He gave her a quick look, which said lots of kind things, and then he left. After he was gone, she stood watching the door, thinking about too many things. She wanted to look at Jim. She wanted to see him, wanted to tell him things.
She couldn't understand why she still loved him, and she couldn't understand why Jim had done nothing. He had started to be for her. He had almost reacted, and then, suddenly, he'd turned into a nothing again.
"Jim, what's wrong with you?"
He didn't answer her. He sat there fiddling with his empty cup, and she watched lines in his face, which were neither hard nor soft. He seemed blank, washed out, but she remembered times when he had been all hard, all man, and she had loved him when he was like that.
He caught her look and tried to smile. It didn't work very well. "I'm sorry, Maria. I didn't know you were here in Hollyhock. If I had known..."
"You wouldn't have come back?"
"I don't know."
She felt an enormous tension pulling tight across her chest, it pulled in so tight her breasts hurt right out to the nipples, and she couldn't breathe.
"What brought you here then?"
"It was her idea - she said we would take a business trip out here to Wisconsin and upper Michigan. We do business with a couple of manufacturers out here. That's all."
She felt her face, tried to rub some feeling back into her cheeks, and her lips felt like pieces of sticky wood. "Are you sure that's all? Did she know about me?"
"I don't know."
He sketched vague, hazy movements, and Maria tried to understand him. He swung away from the counter and walked over to the jukebox. He moved nervously, as if he were controlled by some eccentric spring-motor, and he fumbled with the buttons, pretending to look for a song. It disgusted her to see him so caught in a trap which must have been partly his own doing.
"What would you like to hear?"
Her sympathy had been torn from him, but now, as he rubbed the crooked bump on the lower right side of his nose, and as he scratched the top of his red head in perplexity, she felt better. "Go on, play F-nine."
"What's that about?"
He dropped his coin, thumbed buttons.
"It's a thing called Tenderness. It's a nice song."
"I never heard it."
"They like it out here, and I like it because..."
"Because, what, Maria?"
"It makes me feel tender."
He had been walking back towards her, but he stopped dead and stared at her. Something seemed to have come into his face that hadn't been there for a long time.
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes."
She couldn't stand his look. She had to reach for a towel, and she fumbled around. Finally she picked up a glass and began polishing it. She blew on it, making it mist over, and then she worked at it so hard the glass gleamed like new diamond in her hand.
"Maria, do you still love me?"
Until that second, she had been caught in a slow-building desire, but then reality opened up for her. Jim belonged to Arlene, had belonged to her for some time. A severe constriction tightened her throat. She could hardly speak, and the music sounded raw in her ears. It was not tender. It was savage.
"Look, Jim," she said, "How come you're not going after her? She waiting for you, isn't she?"
"Maria, I thought... To hell with her! Dammit, Maria, we don't have to talk about her, do we? You know what she is. I know what she is."
He sat down, and his voice dropped to a whisper. He didn't look up. "We both know what she's done to you and me."
"You mean, you're a lesbian too?" She had never used the word before, and it shocked her so much she had to put the glass down. It had trembled in her hand like a crazy thing. Strange, sick spasms caught at her stomach, and she wanted to be alone and be sick.
"I couldn't be that and be a man."
"You know what I mean, Jim."
"I didn't realize until I saw you today that I had cheated myself. I still love you. It's crazy, but true. She couldn't destroy that. She never did destroy that."
"But, Jim, so what if you do love me?"
She didn't mean her words to sound so rough, so mechanical, but she had nothing else to communicate. She watched a spark of hope flicker in his face, flicker, then die.
He dragged his fingertips in meaningless patterns across the blue counter, and he did not look at her. "I thought we could fight her. Me and you together. We never did fight her right. Did we?"
"No."
"I'm not going back to her, Maria. I want to stay with you." His voice leaped out and pleaded with her, and she felt his eyes searching her face, looking for some ray of hope, some possibility. "Maria, don't you want me to do that? Don't you want me to come home with you tonight?"
She felt dead, lifeless, and the weight of too many, too long suppressed desires held her back. "What good would it do? She'll follow you wherever you go, and you can't get away from her no matter what you do."
She watched his right hand turn into a fist, his fist slam hard on the counter, making his coffee cup jump in its saucer. "We made a damn big mistake once, Maria. We don't have to make it again. We can be stronger than she is. We can beat her at her own game."
"Maybe, Jim. Maybe..."