Homesick for Another World(38)

“I like the wallpaper in your bathroom,” she said. “And the old sink.” She sat down again. Jeb had placed a photo on top of the pile for her to see. It showed a skinny woman in a sun hat and a bikini sitting in a beach chair by a pool. “Who’s she?” the girl asked.

“My wife, may she rest in peace.”

“She’s very pretty,” the girl said politely. She leaned over to the end table and poured herself another tumblerful of Kenny May.

“She had a chipped tooth,” Jeb said. “But she was pretty enough. A strange gal. Never could tell what she was thinking. Had strange habits, as do we all. And strange obsessions. She liked to buy all sorts of fancy things. Lace and silk stuff, you know? Lingerie. Tell you what,” Jeb said, smiling now. “She left drawers full of that stuff upstairs. I’d be happy to show you. It’s all very nice.”

The girl put her glass down.

“Strange woman,” Jeb continued. “Kept a diary every day of her life, made me swear I’d never touch it. When she passed, bless her dear heart”—he put his hand on his chest, sucked in air at a stutter for a moment, looked up at the ceiling—“I found the diary and I read it, and it was all about bowling. Bowling this and bowling that. Had me laughing and crying at once. That’s love.” He put his hand on the girl’s knee, then looked out the window. The storm raged and clattered. The lights flickered, but they didn’t go out. The pale, swollen, spotted hand on the girl’s knee was inert, like a fat, sleeping lizard that could at any moment awaken and claw up her soft thigh.

“Get your nasty paw off my leg,” the girl said flatly. She picked up his pinkie finger and craned his hand up and to the side. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said under her breath, letting go.

Jeb ignored her. He swayed his head in painful reverie. “Oh, my sweet Betty Ann. She left a closet full of clothes, too. Great dresser,” he said. “Real style. And you know me, so sentimental, I couldn’t part with those nice dresses. I always thought maybe one day someone would have a use for them. Like you, for instance. Hey!” In a comic pantomime, he exhaled as though struck by lightning, sticking his arms out in front of him and letting his head loll and his tongue dangle from his mouth. “Here’s an idea,” he said. His face brightened. “Do you like old things? Vintage, as they say? I’ve got skirts, tops, and the dresses. Shoes too. You’re welcome to try anything on. Just up the stairs.” The fleshy wrinkles around his mouth deepened as he grinned.

The girl looked at her drink. “If the kid isn’t coming, I should just go home.”

“But you’ve only just arrived.” Jeb opened his hands, flittered his fingers. He reached across her lap for the Kenny May, filled both glasses, although neither was empty. Outside, the storm paused for a minute. They sat listening, waiting to see if it was really over. Then the rain started up again.

“I don’t believe you ever had a wife,” the girl said after a while. “And this whiskey tastes funny.” She set her glass on the coaster. “It tastes cheap,” she said.

“Lie down for a bit,” Jeb said, not getting up off the couch. “Take a load off. Stretch out if you like. Mi casa es su casa. I know a drop of Spanish. And French. Voulez-vous? Comment ?a va?”

The girl yawned and shook her head. “I’m not lying down with you,” she said.

“But these dresses,” Jeb said. “They’d fit you perfectly. Let me bring one down so you can see it. My wife was quite the fashion plate. And just your size. Shall I bring one down? It’d be such a pity to throw them all away. You can come up and look through them yourself, if you like.”

“No, thanks,” the girl said. She was only pretending to be bored, it seemed, fingering the lid of Jeb’s cigar box.

“It’s all just sitting there, waiting to be revived,” Jeb said. “Take whatever you want. It doesn’t matter to me.” A bolt of lightning flooded the room with pale blue light.

“If I wanted to be fooled into your bedroom, you wouldn’t have to ask twice,” the girl replied. “I already told you, I see your game.”

Jeb looked up at the ceiling. The loose, spotted skin of his throat flapped as he ground his jaws. “So you’re not interested,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’ve gone and changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind?”

“I was only trying to be courteous, neighborly. And here you come, wanting to be comforted.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” the girl said sarcastically. Her mismatched eyes crinkled in derision, Jeb thought.

“You’re lucky I’m not a creep,” he continued. “I could do anything I wanted to you, you know. A young girl, drunk on my couch. You should be more careful. My wife—” Jeb gasped suddenly, dabbing pretentiously at invisible tears. “God bless her soul. She was a good woman. An honest woman. No tease or hussy like you find nowadays.” He stared down at the girl’s bare feet on the hardwood floor and licked his lips. Still the girl did not get up.

“I’m not feeling well,” Jeb said, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. The girl turned and moved closer. The scent of coconut made him queasy. The hand she placed on Jeb’s bony shoulder was warm and damp through his thin T-shirt. He froze. He felt her weight shift on the couch, heard the springs whine, and then she was on him, straddling him,her breasts shoved up against his chin. Jeb could barely breathe.