The Night Watchman(76)

Betty looked around carefully. The cafe was full, but not crowded. They were in a corner. Nobody would hear what she said. She told Patrice what an erection was. Patrice already knew. She tried not to think of Bucky and his friends. Betty told her how to get away from men she didn’t like, who had erections. Again, that was nothing new. She told Patrice how to pretend to drop something, how to accidentally brush against a man, if she did like him and wanted to see if he liked her.

“Pretend you have something in your eye, and you can’t see where your hand goes. Or bend over to pick something up by his feet. Brush your hand against it as you stand up. Oops! Then you smile at him, if you like what you felt. He knows. But if you didn’t like what you felt, you get the hell away from him.”

“Right,” said Patrice. She thought of Bucky, now with his one crossed eye.

“Once you touch it, even by accident, they might grab you. So you have to be ready. Then if you do like it, and you want to try it, you find a private spot. In fall or early spring, out in the woods. In summer, you might get ticks. It isn’t very attractive to be pulling ticks off to have sex.”

“No.”

“So it’s better if there’s a barn or a bed or he has a car.”

“No car,” said Patrice, but Betty was oblivious, and spoke with a clinical practicality, describing positions that made Patrice drop her face into her hands, laughing.

“Don’t laugh! That’s the way to get your hoo-ha.”

“What?”

“Hoo-ha.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“It makes you feel like you’re floating off. You are a kid, my goodness.”

Betty went into such detail about the hoo-ha that Patrice’s face grew flushed and hot. Her mother hadn’t said a word about this, even in Chippewa. And button. Which button? Must be the other one, below the belly button. See, she thought, this is why I needed to talk to Betty.

“Whatever happens, I don’t want to get in a family way. How do you stop that?”

“The rubber, but they don’t like them. Or maybe you don’t have one handy and you still want to do it. You will be okay if you just have sex the week after your monthly ends. Just that week, you’re safe. It’s what me and Norbert do. And of course we have his old jalopy. We go parking on the weekends. Way out on the section roads. Who are you going to have sex with?”

“I just wanted the information in case, but I don’t have a plan.”

“That’s not what your friends think.”

“They’re so irritating.”

“All the same, sounds like you could try with either guy. The only thing is getting rid of them after, if you don’t like it.”

Patrice looked completely mystified.

“I know. It’s supposed to be you only do the deed if you are planning on forever. Getting married. But my aunt told me that if you are serious try it out first. It’s no good to have to do it with one person all your life if it isn’t any good. This is what my aunt said. Why be stuck with a dud?”

“You’re so right!”

Patrice was even more impressed with Betty. She asked if she’d like a pastry, and Betty took her up on it. They each had a maple long john. As Betty put her lips around the frosted roll to take a bite, she met Patrice’s eyes and started laughing so hard she almost choked. She put her pastry down.

“Oh my gosh, that reminded me!”

“Of? Oh . . .”

Betty was lapping the frosting off the top and sides of the pastry. Her tongue was thick and pale pink.

Patrice looked around, disturbed. What Betty seemed to imply had never occurred to her.

“And men can do it to women, too. It’s like licking jelly out of a bismarck bun, a straight shot to hoo-ha.”

“How do you know all this? Your aunt?”

“No,” said Betty modestly. “Experience.”

Patrice was a bit repelled, then completely awed.

“Now, don’t tell anyone I told you.”

“I wouldn’t tell for anything.”

Betty looked up and smiled at someone behind Patrice.

“Hi there, Hay Stack. Or I mean, sorry, Mr. Barnes.”

“Hi to you, Betty. And hello, Patrice.”

Patrice turned in her chair. Just the way Barnes said hello made her feel uncomfortable, like the air was pressing down on her. And embarrassed. What if he’d heard their conversation? And how much worse would it be if she tried him out and he was a dud?

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” she said in a neutral voice.

He took a step backward, gave a weak smile, and turned away.

After he left, a welcome refill on coffee and tea.

“The thing is,” said Betty, leaning close to Patrice, staring at her in a weird way, her mouth smeared with frosting, “men want it so bad they will pay for it. Know what I’m saying?”

“Not exactly. . . .”

“They come up here and tell women they’ll get married down in the Cities, let’s go. Then down in the Cities they ditch the woman, sell her to someone who puts them out for sex.”

“Puts them out . . . ?”

“On the street, looking for trade, getting men to pay them for sex. But then giving the money to the pimp.”

“What’s that?”