So I knock on the door of the little shack, right? And I feel all funny and nervous; kinda like I did the first time I ever let a boy touch my cooter. But I just tell myself it’s ’cause I ain’t knocked on someone’s door for so damn long that it reminds me of how everything used to be.
Twinklebottom answers after two or three more knocks and his eyes are all red like maybe I woke him up. He ain’t got no shirt on and for a moment I just stood there, lookin’ at him but not really sayin’ anything. I reckon I hadn’t thought far enough into this to really know what I was gonna do, so I just kinda smiled at him, ya know?
If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t let it show. Just looked at me real sad like.
“Ain’t got no food.” he says.
“Don’t matter none.” I tell ’im. “You can pay me later if’n ya want.”
And there it was. I done went and broke the cardinal rule: don’t ever give nothin’ away for free that you can sell. But right then and there, with the sun beatin’ down on the back of my neck and the birds singin’ in the trees, I didn’t pay it no mind.
He stepped off to the side a little bit and closed the door behind me.
So, afterwards, we’re just kinda layin’ there on his bedroll, lettin’ the sweat cool our skin; and I’m just a’lookin’ around at everything and thinkin’ about how I would just about take a dirty sanchez for a cigarette. I knew I should probably just put my clothes back on and be on my way, but there’s this part of me that weren’t quite ready yet. For some reason I liked that dark little shack, the sound of him breathin’ beside me, and that little tickle when my hip brushed up against his thigh. So I’m takin’ in the milk crate off to the side that has a picture of a woman and a little girl propped up in front of it. The mostly melted candle and the pile of clothes layin’ at our feet like a faithful dog. And I’m just babblin’ away, chatterin’ about nothin’ and everything all at the same time.
“So Granny Foster told me that I was named Jamie after the bionic woman. Only her last name was spelled with an O, not a U like mine is. She said my mommy just knew I was gonna grow up to do great things and that she had this idea that if she gave me the right name then that would just make sure of it.”
Twinklebottom rolled over onto his side and looked at me, but he really didn’t say nothin’. Of course he weren’t tellin’ me to get out neither, which I reckoned had to mean somethin’. So I just kinda stretch like a cat in a patch of sunlight and decide to come right out and ask him.
“Anyhows,” I said, “that’s where I got my name.”
I swallowed hard and watched this fly crawlin’ across the ceiling so I wouldn’t hafta look at him when I said it.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Why…. why do you always want me to call you Twinklebottom?”
It was so quiet in that shack that I could hear the wind that had kicked up whistlin’ through the planks on the wall. And suddenly I get real scared, right? Like maybe I’d done pissed him off so bad that he wouldn’t never so much look at me again. So I steal this glance outta the corner of my eye and he’s layin’ on his back now with his hands pressed into his eyes.
And I just wanna hold him in my arms, to tell him it’s okay, I don’t really wanna know, and then maybe throw in a blow job or somethin’ to make him forget I ever asked. But there’s another part of me that does wanna know. And it’s tellin’ me to keep my fool mouth shut.
After what seems like forever, he starts talkin’ and his voice sounds so small and tiny. It’s got this little waver in it that makes me think he might be cryin’ again behind those hands. But I’m afraid if I touch him that he’ll shut up so I kinda lay there twirlin’ my hair around my finger and listenin’.
“My wife… she used to call me that.”
The fly is buzzin’ around the room now and I’m holdin’ my breath cause I don’t even wanna breathe. I just want him to talk, to hear the sound of his voice….
“When we first got married,” he says real slow like, “I thought maybe we should try something a little… different. So we got all these books, these fuzzy little handcuffs and stuff. Only it didn’t work out quite like we thought it would.”
He had this sad little laugh and I remember thinkin’ how I would face down a pack of freshies right then and there if there was anyway I could put just a bit of joy back into that voice. But I still stayed real quiet, ’cause it was almost like he wasn’t really talkin’ to me. Almost like he was just speakin’ to hear the sound of his own voice and I didn’t wanna remind him that I was listening.
“Monica said I was about as forceful as a kitten with a ball of yarn. We kinda gave up on the whole bondage thing after a while. But, after that, she always kinda playfully teased me, ya know? Yes, Master Twinklebottom… what’s your bidding, Master Twinklebottom?”
He really was cryin’ now. I could feel his chest heavin’ beside me and his pain was so intense it was almost like this force that was pressin’ down on me, makin’ it hard to breathe and shit. I felt my eyes all cloudin’ up too and I just kinda reached out and touched his arm real light like. Only he grabbed onto my hand so fast and hard I kinda jumped a little, like it scared me or something.
“Fuckin’ rotters… they got… they broke through the….”
I pulled him real close to me, let him just lay his head on my chest and cry as I held on. I didn’t even care that he was snottin’ all over my tits or leavin’ these sticky little smears everywhere. I just held this poor man and stroked his other head for a change, lettin’ him cry it out like Wanda Polowski used to say.
Now, he’d cried in front of me plenty of times. Just damn near every time we did it the waterworks would turn on at one point or another. This time was different, though. Afterwards, when he was wipin’ his eyes on this dirty ’ole t-shirt, it almost seemed like he was embarassed.
Couldn’t look me in the eyes and just kept mumblin’ about how sorry he was, how I didn’t need to see that and all. But even then there was somethin’ different between us. It was like there was this little silver cord connectin’ our souls and when I went to hug him he only resisted for a second before squeezin’ me back.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” I told him. “A friend of mine. Not far from here.”
He just kinda nodded and started puttin’ on his clothes, not really sayin’ anything at all. But I got the felling that I coulda told him we were gonna walk to China and he woulda been okay with it.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not sayin’ that he fell head over heels in love with me just ’cause I let him cry and listened to ’im talk about his old life. But, somehow, that did make us connected. I’m sure of it… even if I can’t explain why that would be.
So anyways, we’re walkin’ toward the factory where Gin was hangin’ out and inside I’m feelin’ like the cat that just got the cream. I just can’t wait to see the look in her eyes when the two of us walk up to her and I got this little speech prepared in my mind. How I’m gonna say that me and John were just talkin’ ’bout the old days and it got me to thinkin’ about her. By the time it was all over, she’d been eatin’ her words more than that squirrel she had her eye on.
Only we got to the factory and there weren’t nobody around. It’s quiet most of the time these days. There ain’t no planes roarin’ overhead or cars hissin’ by, no radios thumpin’ out that damn hippity-hop as Granny Foster used to say. But the silence surrounding that factory?