WhereAreYouGoing,WhereHaveYouBeen"byJoyceCarolOates(1966)
forBobDylan
HernamewasConnie. Shewasfifteenandshehadaquick,nervousgigglinghabitofcraninghernecktoglanceintomirrorsorcheckingotherpeople'sfacestomakesureherownwasallright.Hermother,whonoticedeverythingandkneweverythingandwhohadn'tmuchreasonanylongertolookatherownface,alwaysscoldedConnieaboutit."Stopgawkingatyourself.Whoareyou?Youthinkyou'resopretty?"shewouldsay.Conniewouldraisehereyebrowsatthesefamiliaroldcomplaintsandlookrightthroughhermother,intoashadowyvisionofherselfasshewasrightatthatmoment:sheknewshewasprettyandthatwaseverything.Hermotherhadbeenprettyoncetoo,ifyoucouldbelievethoseoldsnapshotsinthealbum,butnowherlooksweregoneandthatwaswhyshewasalwaysafterConnie.
"Whydon'tyoukeepyourroomcleanlikeyoursister?How'veyougotyourhairfixed—whatthehellstinks?Hairspray?Youdon'tseeyoursisterusingthatjunk."
HersisterJunewastwenty-fourandstilllivedathome.ShewasasecretaryinthehighschoolConnieattended,andifthatwasn'tbadenough—withherinthesamebuilding—shewassoplainandchunkyandsteadythatConniehadtohearherpraisedallthetimebyhermotherandhermother'ssisters.Junedidthis,Junedidthat,shesavedmoneyandhelpedcleanthehouseandcookedandConniecouldn'tdoathing,hermindwasallfilledwithtrashydaydreams.Theirfatherwasawayatworkmostofthetimeandwhenhecamehomehewantedsupperandhereadthenewspaperatsupperandaftersupperhewenttobed.Hedidn'tbothertalkingmuchtothem,butaroundhisbentheadConnie'smotherkeptpickingatheruntilConniewishedhermotherwasdeadandsheherselfwasdeadanditwasallover."Shemakesmewanttothrowupsometimes,"shecomplainedtoherfriends.Shehadahigh,breathless,amusedvoicethatmadeeverythingshesaidsoundalittleforced,whetheritwassincereornot.
Therewasonegoodthing:Junewentplaceswithgirlfriendsofhers,girlswhowerejustasplainandsteadyasshe,andsowhenConniewantedtodothathermotherhadnoobjections.ThefatherofConnie'sbestgirlfrienddrovethegirlsthethreemilestotownandleftthematashoppingplazasotheycouldwalkthroughthestoresorgotoamovie,andwhenhecametopickthemupagainatelevenheneverbotheredtoaskwhattheyhaddone.
Theymusthavebeenfamiliarsights,walkingaroundtheshoppingplazaintheirshortsandflatballerinaslippersthatalways scuffedthesidewalk,withcharmbraceletsjinglingontheirthinwrists;theywouldleantogethertowhisperandlaughsecretlyifsomeonepassedwhoamusedorinterestedthem.Conniehadlongdarkblondhairthatdrewanyone'seyetoit,andsheworepart ofitpulleduponherheadandpuffedoutandtherestofitsheletfalldownherback.Sheworeapull-overjerseyblousethatlookedonewaywhenshewasathomeandanotherwaywhenshewasawayfromhome.Everythingaboutherhadtwosidestoit,oneforhomeandoneforanywherethatwasnothome:herwalk,whichcouldbechildlikeandbobbing,orlanguidenoughtomakeanyonethinkshewashearingmusicinherhead;hermouth,whichwaspaleandsmirkingmostofthetime,butbrightandpinkontheseeveningsout;herlaugh,whichwascynicalanddrawlingathome—"Ha,ha,veryfunny,"—buthighpitchedandnervousanywhereelse,likethejinglingofthecharmsonherbracelet.
Sometimestheydidgoshoppingortoamovie,butsometimestheywentacrossthehighway,duckingfastacrossthebusyroad,to adrive-inrestaurantwhereolderkidshungout.Therestaurantwasshapedlikeabigbottle,thoughsquatterthanarealbottle,andonitscapwasarevolvingfigureofagrinningboyholdingahamburgeraloft.Onenightinmidsummertheyranacross,breathlesswithdaring,andrightawaysomeoneleanedoutacarwindowandinvitedthemover,butitwasjustaboyfromhighschoolthey didn'tlike.Itmadethemfeelgoodtobeabletoignorehim.Theywentupthroughthemazeofparkedandcruisingcarstothebright-lit,fly-infestedrestaurant,theirfacespleasedandexpectantasiftheywereenteringasacredbuildingthatloomedupoutofthenighttogivethemwhathavenandblessingtheyyearnedfor.Theysatatthecounterandcrossedtheirlegsattheankles,theirthinshouldersrigidwithexcitement,andlistenedtothemusicthatmadeeverythingsogood:themusicwasalwaysinthebackground,likemusicatachurchservice;itwassomethingtodependupon.
AboynamedEddiecameintotalkwiththem.Hesatbackwardsonhisstool,turninghimselfjerkilyaroundinsemicirclesandthenstoppingandturningbackagain,andafterawhileheaskedConnieifshewouldlikesomethingtoeat.Shesaidshewouldandsoshetappedherfriend'sarmonherwayout—herfriendpulledherfaceupintoabrave,drolllook—andConniesaidshewouldmeetherateleven,acrosstheway."Ijusthatetoleaveherlikethat,"Conniesaidearnestly,buttheboysaidthatshewouldn'tbealoneforlong.Sotheywentouttohiscar,andonthewayConniecouldn'thelpbutlethereyeswanderoverthewindshieldsandfacesallaroundher,herfacegleamingwithajoythathadnothingtodowithEddieoreventhisplace;itmighthavebeenthemusic.Shedrewhershouldersupandsuckedinherbreathwiththepurepleasureofbeingalive,andjustatthatmomentshehappenedtoglanceatafacejustafewfeetfromhers.Itwasaboywithshaggyblackhair,inaconvertiblejalopypaintedgold.Hestaredatherandthenhislipswidenedintoagrin.Connieslithereyesathimandturnedaway,butshecouldn'thelpglancingbackandtherehewas,stillwatchingher.Hewaggedafingerandlaughedandsaid,"Gonnagetyou,baby,"andConnieturnedawayagainwithout
Eddienoticinganything.
Shespentthreehourswithhim,attherestaurantwheretheyatehamburgersanddrankCokesinwaxcupsthatwerealwayssweating,andthendownanalleyamileorsoaway,andwhenheleftheroffatfivetoelevenonlythemoviehousewasstillopenattheplaza.Hergirlfriendwasthere,talkingwithaboy.WhenConniecameup,thetwogirlssmiledateachotherandConniesaid,"Howwasthemovie?"andthegirlsaid,'Youshouldknow."Theyrodeoffwiththegirl'sfather,sleepyandpleased,andConniecouldn'thelpbutlookbackatthedarkenedshoppingplazawithitsbigemptyparkinglotanditssignsthatwerefadedandghostlynow,andoveratthedrive-inrestaurantwherecarswerestillcirclingtirelessly.Shecouldn'thearthemusicatthisdistance.
NextmorningJuneaskedherhowthemoviewasandConniesaid,"So-so."
Sheandthatgirlandoccasionallyanothergirlwentoutseveraltimesaweek,andtherestofthetimeConniespentaroundthehouse—itwassummervacation—gettinginhermotherswayandthinking,dreamingabouttheboysshemet.Butalltheboysfellbackanddissolvedintoasinglefacethatwasnotevenafacebutanidea,afeeling,mixedupwiththeurgentinsistentpoundingofthemusicandthehumidnightairofJuly.Connie'smotherkeptdraggingherbacktothedaylightbyfindingthingsforhertodoorsayingsuddenly,'What'sthisaboutthePettingergirl?"
AndConniewouldsaynervously,"Oh,her.Thatdope."Shealwaysdrewthickclearlinesbetweenherselfandsuchgirls,andhermotherwassimpleandkindenoughtobelieveit.Hermotherwassosimple,Conniethought,thatitwasmaybecrueltofoolhersomuch.Hermotherwentscufflingaroundthehouseinoldbedroomslippersandcomplainedoverthetelephonetoonesisterabouttheother,thentheothercalledupandthetwoofthemcomplainedaboutthethirdone.IfJune'snamewasmentionedhermother'stonewasapproving,andifConnie'snamewasmentioneditwasdisapproving.ThisdidnotreallymeanshedislikedConnie,andactuallyConniethoughtthathermotherpreferredhertoJunejustbecauseshewasprettier,butthetwoofthemkeptupapretenseofexasperation,asensethattheyweretuggingandstrugglingoversomethingoflittlevaluetoeitherofthem.Sometimes,overcoffee,theywerealmostfriends,butsomethingwouldcomeup—somevexationthatwaslikeaflybuzzingsuddenlyaroundtheirheads—andtheirfaceswenthardwithcontempt.
OneSundayConniegotupateleven—noneofthembotheredwithchurch—andwashedherhairsothatitcoulddryalldaylonginthesun.Herparentsandsisterweregoingtoabarbecueatanaunt'shouseandConniesaidno,shewasn'tinterested,rollinghereyestolethermotherknowjustwhatshethoughtofit."Stayhomealonethen,"hermothersaidsharply.Conniesatoutbackinalawnchairandwatchedthemdriveaway,herfatherquietandbald,hunchedaroundsothathecouldbackthecarout,hermotherwithalookthatwasstillangryandnotatallsoftenedthroughthewindshield,andinthebackseatpooroldJune,alldressedupasifshedidn'tknowwhatabarbecuewas,withalltherunningyellingkidsandtheflies.Conniesatwithhereyesclosedinthesun,dreaminganddazedwiththewarmthaboutherasifthiswereakindoflove,thecaressesoflove,andhermindslippedoverontothoughtsoftheboyshehadbeenwiththenightbeforeandhownicehehadbeen,howsweetitalwayswas,notthewaysomeonelikeJunewouldsupposebutsweet,gentle,thewayitwasinmoviesandpromisedinsongs;andwhensheopenedhereyesshehardlyknewwhereshewas,thebackyardranoffintoweedsandafence-likelineoftreesandbehindittheskywasperfectlyblueandstill.Theasbestosranchhousethatwasnowthreeyearsoldstartledher—itlookedsmall.Sheshookherheadasiftogetawake.
Itwastoohot.Shewentinsidethehouseandturnedontheradiotodrownoutthequiet.Shesatontheedgeofherbed,barefoot,andlistenedforanhourandahalftoaprogramcalledXYZSundayJamboree,recordafterrecordofhard,fast,shriekingsongsshesangalongwith,interspersedbyexclamationsfrom"BobbyKing":"An'lookhere,yougirlsatNapoleon's—SonandCharleywantyoutopayrealcloseattentiontothissongcomingup!"
AndConniepaidcloseattentionherself,bathedinaglowofslow-pulsedjoythatseemedtorisemysteriouslyoutofthemusicitselfandlaylanguidlyabouttheairlesslittleroom,breathedinandbreathedoutwitheachgentleriseandfallofherchest.
Afterawhilesheheardacarcomingupthedrive.Shesatupatonce,startled,becauseitcouldn'tbeherfathersosoon.Thegravelkeptcrunchingallthewayinfromtheroad—thedrivewaywaslong—andConnierantothewindow.Itwasacarshedidn'tknow.Itwasanopenjalopy,paintedabrightgoldthatcaughtthesunlightopaquely.Herheartbegantopoundandherfingerssnatchedatherhair,checkingit,andshewhispered,"Christ.Christ,"wonderinghowbadshelooked.Thecarcametoastopatthesidedoorandthehornsoundedfourshorttaps,asifthiswereasignalConnieknew.
Shewentintothekitchenandapproachedthedoorslowly,thenhungoutthescreendoor,herbaretoescurlingdownoffthestep.Thereweretwoboysinthecarandnowsherecognizedthedriver:hehadshaggy,shabbyblackhairthatlookedcrazyasawigandhewasgrinningather.
"Iain'tlate,amI?"hesaid.
"Whothehelldoyouthinkyouare?"Conniesaid.
"ToldjaI'dbeout,didn'tI?"
"Idon'tevenknowwhoyouare."
Shespokesullenly,carefultoshownointerestorpleasure,andhespokeinafast,brightmonotone.Connielookedpasthimtotheotherboy,takinghertime.Hehadfairbrownhair,withalockthatfellontohisforehead.Hissideburnsgavehimafierce,embarrassedlook,butsofarhehadn'tevenbotheredtoglanceather.Bothboysworesunglasses.Thedriver'sglassesweremetallicandmirroredeverythinginminiature.
"Youwantacomeforaride?"hesaid.
Conniesmirkedandletherhairfalllooseoveroneshoulder."Don'tchalikemycar?Newpaintjob,"hesaid."Hey.""What?"
"You'recute."
Shepretendedtofidget,chasingfliesawayfromthedoor."Don'tchabelieveme,orwhat?"hesaid.
"Look,Idon'tevenknowwhoyouare,"Conniesaidindisgust.
"Hey,Ellie'sgotaradio,see.Minebrokedown."Heliftedhisfriend'sarmandshowedherthelittletransistorradiotheboywasholding,andnowConniebegantohearthemusic.Itwasthesameprogramthatwasplayinginsidethehouse.
"BobbyKing?"shesaid.
"Ilistentohimallthetime.Ithinkhe'sgreat.""He'skindofgreat,"Conniesaidreluctantly.
"Listen,thatguy'sgreat.Heknowswheretheactionis."
Connieblushedalittle,becausetheglassesmadeitimpossibleforhertoseejustwhatthisboywaslookingat.Shecouldn'tdecideifshelikedhimorifhewasjustajerk,andsoshedawdledinthedoorwayandwouldn'tcomedownorgobackinside.Shesaid,"What'sallthatstuffpaintedonyourcar?"
"Can'tchareadit?"Heopenedthedoorverycarefully,asifhewereafraiditmightfalloff.Heslidoutjustascarefully,plantinghisfeetfirmlyontheground,thetinymetallicworldinhisglassesslowingdownlikegelatinehardening,andinthemidstofitConnie'sbrightgreenblouse."Thishereismyname,tobeginwith,hesaid.ARNOLDFRIENDwaswrittenintarlikeblacklettersontheside,withadrawingofaround,grinningfacethatremindedConnieofapumpkin,exceptitworesunglasses."Iwantaintroducemyself,I'mArnoldFriendandthat'smyrealnameandI'mgonnabeyourfriend,honey,andinsidethecar'sEllieOscar,he'skindashy."Elliebroughthistransistorradiouptohisshoulderandbalanceditthere."Now,thesenumbersareasecretcode,honey,"ArnoldFriendexplained.Hereadoffthenumbers33,19,17andraisedhiseyebrowsathertoseewhatshethoughtofthat,butshedidn'tthinkmuchofit.Theleftrearfenderhadbeensmashedandarounditwaswritten,onthegleaminggoldbackground:DONEBYCRAZYWOMANDRIVER.Conniehadtolaughatthat.ArnoldFriendwaspleasedatherlaughterandlookedupather."Aroundtheotherside'salotmore—youwantacomeandseethem?"
"No."
"Whynot?""WhyshouldI?"
"Don'tchawantaseewhat'sonthecar?Don'tchawantagoforaride?""Idon'tknow."
"Whynot?"
"Igotthingstodo.""Likewhat?""Things."
Helaughedasifshehadsaidsomethingfunny.Heslappedhisthighs.Hewasstandinginastrangeway,leaningbackagainstthecarasifhewerebalancinghimself.Hewasn'ttall,onlyaninchorsotallerthanshewouldbeifshecamedowntohim.Connielikedthewayhewasdressed,whichwasthewayallofthemdressed:tightfadedjeansstuffedintoblack,scuffedboots,abeltthat pulledhiswaistinandshowedhowleanhewas,andawhitepull-overshirtthatwasalittlesoiledandshowedthehardsmallmusclesofhisarmsandshoulders.Helookedasifheprobablydidhardwork,liftingandcarryingthings.Evenhisnecklookedmuscular.Andhisfacewasafamiliarface,somehow:thejawandchinandcheeksslightlydarkenedbecausehehadn'tshavedforadayortwo,andthenoselongandhawklike,sniffingasifshewereatreathewasgoingtogobbleupanditwasallajoke.
"Connie,youain'ttellingthetruth.Thisisyourdaysetasideforaridewithmeandyouknowit,"hesaid,stilllaughing.Thewayhestraightenedandrecoveredfromhisfitoflaughingshowedthatithadbeenallfake.
"Howdoyouknowwhatmynameis?"shesaidsuspiciously."It'sConnie."
"Maybeandmaybenot."
"IknowmyConnie,"hesaid,wagginghisfinger.Nowsherememberedhimevenbetter,backattherestaurant,andhercheekswarmedatthethoughtofhowshehadsuckedinherbreathjustatthemomentshepassedhim—howshemusthavelookedtohim.Andhehadrememberedher."EllieandIcomeouthereespeciallyforyou,"hesaid."Elliecansitinback.Howaboutit?"
"Where?""Wherewhat?"
"Where'rewegoing?"
Helookedather.Hetookoffthesunglassesandshesawhowpaletheskinaroundhiseyeswas,likeholesthatwerenotinshadowbutinsteadinlight.Hiseyeswerelikechipsofbrokenglassthatcatchthelightinanamiableway.Hesmiled.Itwasasiftheideaofgoingforaridesomewhere,tosomeplace,wasanewideatohim.
"Justforaride,Conniesweetheart."
"IneversaidmynamewasConnie,"shesaid.
"ButIknowwhatitis.Iknowyournameandallaboutyou,lotsofthings,"ArnoldFriendsaid.Hehadnotmovedyetbutstoodstillleaningbackagainstthesideofhisjalopy."Itookaspecialinterestinyou,suchaprettygirl,andfoundoutallaboutyou—likeIknowyourparentsandsisteraregonesomewheresandIknowwhereandhowlongthey'regoingtobegone,andIknowwhoyouwerewithlastnight,andyourbestgirlfriend'snameisBetty.Right?"
Hespokeinasimpleliltingvoice,exactlyasifhewererecitingthewordstoasong.Hissmileassuredherthateverythingwasfine.InthecarEllieturnedupthevolumeonhisradioanddidnotbothertolookaroundatthem.
"Elliecansitinthebackseat,"ArnoldFriendsaid.Heindicatedhisfriendwithacasualjerkofhischin,asifElliedidnotcountandsheshouldnotbotherwithhim.
"How'dyoufindoutallthatstuff?"Conniesaid.
"Listen:BettySchultzandTonyFitchandJimmyPettingerandNancyPettinger,"hesaidinachant."RaymondStanleyandBobHutter—"
"Doyouknowallthosekids?""Iknoweverybody."
"Look,you'rekidding.You'renotfromaroundhere."
"Sure."
"But—howcomeweneversawyoubefore?"
"Sureyousawmebefore,"hesaid.Helookeddownathisboots,asifhewerealittleoffended."Youjustdon'tremember.""IguessI'drememberyou,"Conniesaid.
"Yeah?"Helookedupatthis,beaming.Hewaspleased.HebegantomarktimewiththemusicfromEllie'sradio,tappinghisfistslightlytogether.Connielookedawayfromhissmiletothecar,whichwaspaintedsobrightitalmosthurthereyestolookatit.Shelookedatthatname,ARNOLDFRIEND.Andupatthefrontfenderwasanexpressionthatwasfamiliar—MANTHEFLYINGSAUCERS.Itwasanexpressionkidshadusedtheyearbeforebutdidn'tusethisyear.Shelookedatitforawhileasifthewordsmeantsomethingtoherthatshedidnotyetknow.
"What'reyouthinkingabout?Huh?"ArnoldFrienddemanded."Notworriedaboutyourhairblowingaroundinthecar,areyou?""No."
"ThinkImaybecan'tdrivegood?""HowdoIknow?"
"You'reahardgirltohandle.Howcome?"hesaid."Don'tyouknowI'myourfriend?Didn'tyouseemeputmysignintheairwhenyouwalkedby?"
"Whatsign?"
"Mysign."AndhedrewanXintheair,leaningouttowardher.Theyweremaybetenfeetapart.AfterhishandfellbacktohissidetheXwasstillintheair,almostvisible.Connieletthescreendoorcloseandstoodperfectlystillinsideit,listeningtothemusicfromherradioandtheboy'sblendtogether.ShestaredatArnoldFriend.Hestoodtheresostifflyrelaxed,pretendingtoberelaxed,withonehandidlyonthedoorhandleasifhewerekeepinghimselfupthatwayandhadnointentionofevermovingagain.Sherecognizedmostthingsabouthim,thetightjeansthatshowedhisthighsandbuttocksandthegreasyleatherbootsandthetightshirt,andeventhatslipperyfriendlysmileofhis,thatsleepydreamysmilethatalltheboysusedtogetacrossideastheydidn'twanttoputintowords.Sherecognizedallthisandalsothesingsongwayhetalked,slightlymocking,kidding,butseriousandalittlemelancholy,andsherecognizedthewayhetappedonefistagainsttheotherinhomagetotheperpetualmusicbehindhim.Butallthesethingsdidnotcometogether.
Shesaidsuddenly,"Hey,howoldareyou?"
Hissmiledfaded.Shecouldseethenthathewasn'takid,hewasmucholder—thirty,maybemore.Atthisknowledgeherheartbegantopoundfaster.
"That'sacrazythingtoask.Can'tchaseeI'myourownage?""Likehellyouare."
"Ormaybeacoupleyearsolder.I'meighteen.""Eighteen?"shesaiddoubtfully.
Hegrinnedtoreassureherandlinesappearedatthecornersofhismouth.Histeethwerebigandwhite.Hegrinnedsobroadlyhiseyesbecameslitsandshesawhowthickthelasheswere,thickandblackasifpaintedwithablacktarlikematerial.Then,abruptly,heseemedtobecomeembarrassedandlookedoverhisshoulderatEllie."Him,he'scrazy,"hesaid."Ain'theariot?He'sanut,arealcharacter."Elliewasstilllisteningtothemusic.Hissunglassestoldnothingaboutwhathewasthinking.Heworeabrightorangeshirtunbuttonedhalfwaytoshowhischest,whichwasapale,bluishchestandnotmuscularlikeArnoldFriend's.Hisshirtcollarwasturnedupallaroundandtheverytipsofthecollarpointedoutpasthischinasiftheywereprotectinghim.Hewaspressingthetransistorradioupagainsthisearandsatthereinakindofdaze,rightinthesun.
"He'skindastrange,"Conniesaid.
"Hey,shesaysyou'rekindastrange!Kindastrange!"ArnoldFriendcried.HepoundedonthecartogetEllie'sattention.EllieturnedforthefirsttimeandConniesawwithshockthathewasn'takideither—hehadafair,hairlessface,cheeksreddenedslightlyasif theveinsgrewtooclosetothesurfaceofhisskin,thefaceofaforty-year-oldbaby.Conniefeltawaveofdizzinessriseinherat
thissightandshestaredathimasifwaitingforsomethingtochangetheshockofthemoment,makeitallrightagain.Ellie'slipskeptshapingwords,mumblingalongwiththewordsblastinginhisear.
"Maybeyoutwobettergoaway,"Conniesaidfaintly.
"What?Howcome?"ArnoldFriendcried."Wecomeoutheretotakeyouforaride.It'sSunday."Hehadthevoiceofthemanontheradionow.Itwasthesamevoice,Conniethought."Don'tchaknowit'sSundayallday?Andhoney,nomatterwhoyouwerewithlastnight,todayyou'rewithArnoldFriendanddon'tyouforgetit!Maybeyoubetterstepouthere,"hesaid,andthislastwasina differentvoice.Itwasalittleflatter,asiftheheatwasfinallygettingtohim.
"No.Igotthingstodo.""Hey."
"Youtwobetterleave."
"Weain'tleavinguntilyoucomewithus.""LikehellIam—"
"Connie,don'tfoolaroundwithme.Imean—Imean,don'tfoolaround,"hesaid,shakinghishead.Helaughedincredulously.Heplacedhissunglassesontopofhishead,carefully,asifhewereindeedwearingawig,andbroughtthestemsdownbehindhis ears.Conniestaredathim,anotherwaveofdizzinessandfearrisinginhersothatforamomenthewasn'teveninfocusbutwasjustablurstandingthereagainsthisgoldcar,andshehadtheideathathehaddrivenupthedrivewayallrightbuthadcomefromnowherebeforethatandbelongednowhereandthateverythingabouthimandevenaboutthemusicthatwassofamiliartoherwasonlyhalfreal.
"Ifmyfathercomesandseesyou—""Heain'tcoming.He'satabarbecue.""Howdoyouknowthat?"
"AuntTillie's.Rightnowthey'reuh—they'redrinking.Sittingaround,"hesaidvaguely,squintingasifhewerestaringallthewaytotownandovertoAuntTillie'sbackyard.Thenthevisionseemedtogetclearandhenoddedenergetically."Yeah.Sittingaround.There'syoursisterinabluedress,huh?Andhighheels,thepoorsadbitch—nothinglikeyou,sweetheart!Andyourmother'shelpingsomefatwomanwiththecorn,they'recleaningthecorn—huskingthecorn—"
"Whatfatwoman?"Conniecried.
"HowdoIknowwhatfatwoman,Idon'tknoweverygoddamnfatwomanintheworld!"ArnoldFriendlaughed.
"Oh,that'sMrs.Hornsby....Whoinvitedher?"Conniesaid.Shefeltalittlelightheaded.Herbreathwascomingquickly.
"She'stoofat.Idon'tlikethemfat.Ilikethemthewayyouare,honey,"hesaid,smilingsleepilyather.Theystaredateachotherforawhilethroughthescreendoor.Hesaidsoftly,"Now,whatyou'regoingtodoisthis:you'regoingtocomeoutthatdoor.YouregoingtositupfrontwithmeandEllie'sgoingtositintheback,thehellwithEllie,right?Thisisn'tEllie'sdate.You'remydate.I'myourlover,honey."
"What?You'recrazy—"
"Yes,I'myourlover.Youdon'tknowwhatthatisbutyouwill,"hesaid."Iknowthattoo.Iknowallaboutyou.Butlook:it'srealniceandyoucouldn'taskfornobodybetterthanme,ormorepolite.Ialwayskeepmyword.I'lltellyouhowitis,I'malwaysniceatfirst,thefirsttime.I'llholdyousotightyouwon'tthinkyouhavetotrytogetawayorpretendanythingbecauseyou'llknowyoucan't.AndI'llcomeinsideyouwhereit'sallsecretandyou'llgiveintomeandyou'llloveme"
"Shutup!You'recrazy!"Conniesaid.Shebackedawayfromthedoor.Sheputherhandsupagainstherearsasifshe'dheardsomethingterrible,somethingnotmeantforher."Peopledon'ttalklikethat,you'recrazy,"shemuttered.Herheartwasalmosttoobignowforherchestanditspumpingmadesweatbreakoutalloverher.ShelookedouttoseeArnoldFriendpauseandthentakeasteptowardtheporch,lurching.Healmostfell.But,likeacleverdrunkenman,hemanagedtocatchhisbalance.Hewobbledinhishighbootsandgrabbedholdofoneoftheporchposts.
"Honey?"hesaid."Youstilllistening?"
"Getthehelloutofhere!""Benice,honey.Listen."
"I'mgoingtocallthepolice—"
Hewobbledagainandoutofthesideofhismouthcameafastspatcurse,anasidenotmeantforhertohear.Buteventhis"Christ!"soundedforced.Thenhebegantosmileagain.Shewatchedthissmilecome,awkwardasifheweresmilingfrominsideamask.Hiswholefacewasamask,shethoughtwildly,tanneddowntohisthroatbutthenrunningoutasifhehadplasteredmake-uponhisfacebuthadforgottenabouthisthroat.
"Honey—?Listen,here'showitis.IalwaystellthetruthandIpromiseyouthis:Iain'tcominginthathouseafteryou.""Youbetternot!I'mgoingtocallthepoliceifyou—ifyoudon't—"
"Honey,"hesaid,talkingrightthroughhervoice,"honey,Imnotcomingintherebutyouarecomingouthere.Youknowwhy?"
Shewaspanting.Thekitchenlookedlikeaplaceshehadneverseenbefore,someroomshehadruninsidebutthatwasn'tgoodenough,wasn'tgoingtohelpher.Thekitchenwindowhadneverhadacurtain,afterthreeyears,andthereweredishesinthesinkforhertodo—probably—andifyouranyourhandacrossthetableyou'dprobablyfeelsomethingstickythere.
"Youlistening,honey?Hey?""—goingtocallthepolice—"
"SoonasyoutouchthephoneIdon'tneedtokeepmypromiseandcancomeinside.Youwon'twantthat."
Sherushedforwardandtriedtolockthedoor.Herfingerswereshaking."Butwhylockit,"ArnoldFriendsaidgently,talkingright intoherface."It'sjustascreendoor.It'sjustnothing."Oneofhisbootswasatastrangeangle,asifhisfootwasn'tinit.Itpointedouttotheleft,bentattheankle."Imean,anybodycanbreakthroughascreendoorandglassandwoodandironoranythingelseifheneedsto,anybodyatall,andspeciallyArnoldFriend.Iftheplacegotlitupwithafire,honey,you'dcomerunnin'outintomyarms,rightintomyarmsan'safeathome—likeyouknewIwasyourloverand'dstoppedfoolingaround.Idon'tmindaniceshygirlbutIdon'tlikenofoolingaround."Partofthosewordswerespokenwithaslightrhythmiclilt,andConniesomehowrecognizedthem—theechoofasongfromlastyear,aboutagirlrushingintoherboyfriend'sarmsandcominghomeagain—
Conniestoodbarefootonthelinoleumfloor,staringathim."Whatdoyouwant?"shewhispered."Iwantyou,"hesaid.
"What?"
"Seenyouthatnightandthought,that'stheone,yessir.Ineverneededtolookanymore."
"Butmyfather'scomingback.He'scomingtogetme.Ihadtowashmyhairfirst—''Shespokeinadry,rapidvoice,hardlyraisingitforhimtohear.
"No,yourdaddyisnotcomingandyes,youhadtowashyourhairandyouwasheditforme.It'sniceandshiningandallforme.Ithankyousweetheart,"hesaidwithamockbow,butagainhealmostlosthisbalance.Hehadtobendandadjusthisboots.Evidentlyhisfeetdidnotgoallthewaydown;thebootsmusthavebeenstuffedwithsomethingsothathewouldseemtaller.ConniestaredoutathimandbehindhimatEllieinthecar,whoseemedtobelookingofftowardConnie'sright,intonothing.ThisElliesaid,pullingthewordsoutoftheaironeafteranotherasifhewerejustdiscoveringthem,"Youwantmetopulloutthephone?"
"Shutyourmouthandkeepitshut,"ArnoldFriendsaid,hisfaceredfrombendingoverormaybefromembarrassmentbecauseConniehadseenhisboots."Thisain'tnoneofyourbusiness."
"What—whatareyoudoing?Whatdoyouwant?"Conniesaid."IfIcallthepolicethey'llgetyou,they'llarrestyou—"
"Promisewasnottocomeinunlessyoutouchthatphone,andI'llkeepthatpromise,"hesaid.Heresumedhiserectpositionandtriedtoforcehisshouldersback.Hesoundedlikeaheroinamovie,declaringsomethingimportant.ButhespoketooloudlyanditwasasifhewerespeakingtosomeonebehindConnie."Iain'tmadeplansforcominginthathousewhereIdon'tbelongbutjustforyoutocomeouttome,thewayyoushould.Don'tyouknowwhoIam?"
"You'recrazy,"shewhispered.Shebackedawayfromthedoorbutdidnotwanttogointoanotherpartofthehouse,asifthiswould
givehimpermissiontocomethroughthedoor."Whatdoyou...you'recrazy,you....""Huh?What'reyousaying,honey?"
Hereyesdartedeverywhereinthekitchen.Shecouldnotrememberwhatitwas,thisroom.
"Thisishowitis,honey:youcomeoutandwe'lldriveaway,haveaniceride.Butifyoudon'tcomeoutwe'regonnawaittillyourpeoplecomehomeandthenthey'reallgoingtogetit."
"Youwantthattelephonepulledout?"Elliesaid.Heheldtheradioawayfromhisearandgrimaced,asifwithouttheradiotheairwastoomuchforhim.
"Itoldjashutup,Ellie,"ArnoldFriendsaid,"you'redeaf,getahearingaid,right?Fixyourselfup.Thislittlegirl'snotroubleand'sgonnabenicetome,soElliekeeptoyourself,thisain'tyourdateright?Don'theminonme,don'thog,don'tcrush,don'tbirddog,don'ttrailme,"hesaidinarapid,meaninglessvoice,asifhewererunningthroughalltheexpressionshe'dlearnedbutwasnolongersurewhichofthemwasinstyle,thenrushingontonewones,makingthemupwithhiseyesclosed."Don'tcrawlundermyfence,don'tsqueezeinmychipmonkhole,don'tsniffmyglue,suckmypopsicle,keepyourowngreasyfingersonyourself!"HeshadedhiseyesandpeeredinatConnie,whowasbackedagainstthekitchentable."Don'tmindhim,honey,he'sjustacreep.He'sadope.Right?I'mtheboyforyou,andlikeIsaid,youcomeoutherenicelikealadyandgivemeyourhand,andnobodyelsegetshurt,Imean,yourniceoldbald-headeddaddyandyourmummyandyoursisterinherhighheels.Becauselisten:whybringtheminthis?"
"Leavemealone,"Conniewhispered.
"Hey,youknowthatoldwomandowntheroad,theonewiththechickensandstuff—youknowher?""She'sdead!"
"Dead?What?Youknowher?"ArnoldFriendsaid."She'sdead—"
"Don'tyoulikeher?"
"She'sdead—she's—sheisn'thereanymore—"
Butdon'tyoulikeher,Imean,yougotsomethingagainsther?Somegrudgeorsomething?"Thenhisvoicedippedasifhewereconsciousofarudeness.Hetouchedthesunglassesperchedupontopofhisheadasiftomakesuretheywerestillthere."Now,youbeagoodgirl."
'Whatareyougoingtodo?"
"Justtwothings,ormaybethree,"ArnoldFriendsaid."ButIpromiseitwon'tlastlongandyou'lllikemethewayyougettolikepeopleyou'recloseto.Youwill.It'salloverforyouhere,socomeonout.Youdon'twantyourpeopleinanytrouble,doyou?"
Sheturnedandbumpedagainstachairorsomething,hurtingherleg,butsheranintothebackroomandpickedupthetelephone.Somethingroaredinherear,atinyroaring,andshewassosickwithfearthatshecoulddonothingbutlistentoit—thetelephonewasclammyandveryheavyandherfingersgropeddowntothedialbutweretooweaktotouchit.Shebegantoscreamintothephone,intotheroaring.Shecriedout,shecriedforhermother,shefeltherbreathstartjerkingbackandforthinherlungsasifitweresomethingArnoldFriendwasstabbingherwithagainandagainwithnotenderness.Anoisysorrowfulwailingroseallaboutherandshewaslockedinsideitthewayshewaslockedinsidethishouse.
Afterawhileshecouldhearagain.Shewassittingonthefloorwithherwetbackagainstthewall.ArnoldFriendwassayingfromthedoor,"That'sagoodgirl.Putthephoneback."
Shekickedthephoneawayfromher."No,honey.Pickitup.Putitbackright."
Shepickeditupandputitback.Thedialtonestopped."That'sagoodgirl.Now,youcomeoutside."
Shewashollowwithwhathadbeenfearbutwhatwasnowjustanemptiness.Allthatscreaminghadblasteditoutofher.Shesat,onelegcrampedunderher,anddeepinsideherbrainwassomethinglikeapinpointoflightthatkeptgoingandwouldnotletherrelax.Shethought,I'mnotgoingtoseemymotheragain.Shethought,I'mnotgoingtosleepinmybedagain.Herbrightgreenblousewasallwet.
ArnoldFriendsaid,inagentle-loudvoicethatwaslikeastagevoice,"Theplacewhereyoucamefromain'tthereanymore,andwhereyouhadinmindtogoiscancelledout.Thisplaceyouarenow—insideyourdaddy'shouse—isnothingbutacardboardboxIcanknockdownanytime.Youknowthatandalwaysdidknowit.Youhearme?"
Shethought,Ihavegottothink.Ihavegottoknowwhattodo.
"We'llgoouttoanicefield,outinthecountryherewhereitsmellssoniceandit'ssunny,"ArnoldFriendsaid."I'llhavemyarmstightaroundyousoyouwon'tneedtotrytogetawayandI'llshowyouwhatloveislike,whatitdoes.Thehellwiththishouse!Itlookssolidallright,"hesaid.HeranafingernaildownthescreenandthenoisedidnotmakeConnieshiver,asitwouldhavethedaybefore."Now,putyourhandonyourheart,honey.Feelthat?Thatfeelssolidtoobutweknowbetter.Benicetome,besweetlikeyoucanbecausewhatelseisthereforagirllikeyoubuttobesweetandprettyandgivein?—andgetawaybeforeherpeoplecomeback?"
Shefeltherpoundingheart.Herhandseemedtoencloseit.Shethoughtforthefirsttimeinherlifethatitwasnothingthatwashers,thatbelongedtoher,butjustapounding,livingthinginsidethisbodythatwasn'treallyherseither.
"Youdon'twantthemtogethurt,"ArnoldFriendwenton."Now,getup,honey.Getupallbyyourself."Shestood.
"Now,turnthisway.That'sright.Comeoverheretome.—Ellie,putthataway,didn'tItellyou?Youdope.Youmiserablecreepydope,"ArnoldFriendsaid.Hiswordswerenotangrybutonlypartofanincantation.Theincantationwaskindly."Nowcomeoutthroughthekitchentome,honey,andlet'sseeasmile,tryit,youreabrave,sweetlittlegirlandnowthey'reeatingcornandhotdogscookedtoburstingoveranoutdoorfire,andtheydon'tknowonethingaboutyouandneverdidandhoney,you'rebetterthanthembecausenotaoneofthemwouldhavedonethisforyou."
Conniefeltthelinoleumunderherfeet;itwascool.Shebrushedherhairbackoutofhereyes.ArnoldFriendletgooftheposttentativelyandopenedhisarmsforher,hiselbowspointingintowardeachotherandhiswristslimp,toshowthatthiswasanembarrassedembraceandalittlemocking,hedidn'twanttomakeherself-conscious.
Sheputoutherhandagainstthescreen.Shewatchedherselfpushthedoorslowlyopenasifshewerebacksafesomewhereintheotherdoorway,watchingthisbodyandthisheadoflonghairmovingoutintothesunlightwhereArnoldFriendwaited.
"Mysweetlittleblue-eyedgirl,"hesaidinahalf-sungsighthathadnothingtodowithherbrowneyesbutwastakenupjustthesamebythevastsunlitreachesofthelandbehindhimandonallsidesofhim—somuchlandthatConniehadneverseenbeforeanddidnotrecognizeexcepttoknowthatshewasgoingtoit.