Flesh

“Probably,” she admitted.

“So what I did…it wasn’t exactly bad, the timing was just off. If it’d happened before last Thursday or after tonight, it wouldn’t even be an issue.”

“Murder isn’t a fucking issue if you put a bullet through someone’s head a minute after he’s already dead.”

“What the hell does murder have to do with anything?”

“I’m just making a point. About timing.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, Alison. I’ve explained that it was a misunderstanding. I thought you were awake.”

“Did I start to undress you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Wouldn’t that be the standard procedure if I’d been a participant in your little grab-fest?”

“I thought you were just relaxed and enjoying it. Like the way you just relaxed and did nothing while I was giving you the massage.”

“Sure,” she said. She felt so tired.

“I just want you to understand. I want you to come back with me. Everything was going great, Alison. We owe it to ourselves to give it another try.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly from side to side. “It’s over. It’s done.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, all right?”

“Good night, Evan.” She pushed herself away from the car door, staggered backward a few steps, and rubbed her face.

“Tomorrow,” Evan said.

“Get out of here,” she muttered.

He drove away slowly.

Alison stood in the street for a while. Finally, she willed herself to move. She shuffled her feet along the pavement and managed to step over the curb. She was still several blocks from home. She felt drained. Instead of continuing down the sidewalk, she wandered onto the grass. Soon, the cool dew soaked through her shoes. She wanted to lie down, to shut her eyes and forget, but not on the wet grass. She went to a concrete bench that surrounded the trunk of an oak near Bennet Hall.

At the far side, where she couldn’t be seen from the road, she lay down on the bench. She folded her hands beneath her head and let her legs hang off the edge of the circular seat. She closed her eyes.

This is fine, she thought. If Evan comes around again looking for me, he’ll never spot me over here.

The concrete hurt the backs of her hands and her shoulder blades, so she used her purse for a pillow and folded her hands on her belly. That was much better.

Something skittered noisily among the leaves overhead. Squirrels, she thought.

She wished she had a sweater. A blanket would be better. If she had a blanket, maybe she would just stay here all night.

Evan’s got one in the trunk of his car. His make-out blanket. Shit, he got a lot of use out of it with me.

Never again.

Thought I was awake. Sure he did.

The chill of the concrete seeped through the back of her blouse and shorts and seemed to seep into her skin. She felt a cool breeze sliding over her bare arms and legs. It stirred her hair. It smelled moist and fresh.

Her attic room would be hot.

Another good reason not to move.

I couldn’t move if I wanted to, Alison thought. And I don’t want to.

Fuck it all. Fuck everything.

Okay, not the squirrels unless one lands on my face. And not Mom and Dad. And not Celia and Helen. And not pizza. Or John D. MacDonald or Ronald McDonald.

That shit didn’t even get my joke.

Fuck him. Fuck Evan Forbes. And fuck Roland Whatever and how about Professor Blaine because they both look like they want to rip my clothes off? And who else? How about all of them? How about every man everywhere? Helen’s right, they’re nothing but walking cocks looking for a tight hole.

Okay, just most of them.

Alison realized she was gritting her teeth and shivering. She wrapped her arms across her chest.

Stick around here, she thought, and they’ll find you in the morning like the frozen leopard on Kilimanjaro. They’ll stand around you in awe and say, “What’s she doing here?” And some asshole will probably stick his hand in your blouse. Can’t let a little thing like rigor mortis stand in the way of a cheap feel.

You’re going nuts, Alison.

She rubbed her face. With her arms no longer hugging her chest, the breeze slid over her and stole the warmth from the skin beneath her blouse.

Her attic would be warm, her bed soft.

Enough of this.

She got to her feet and started for home.

The second story windows were dark, but the light at the top of the stairway had been left on. Alison, still shivering, hurried up the stairs and unlocked the door. She stepped inside. The warmth felt wonderful.

Helen must’ve been burning incense. In spite of the breeze coming in through the open windows, a faint pine odor still hung in the air.

No light came from the crack beneath Helen’s bedroom door.

Alison had expected Helen to be waiting up, eager for an account of the night’s events. It must be after eleven, though. With an eight o’clock class in the morning, she had probably decided to forget her curiosity and turn in.

By the dim light from the windows, Alison made her way into the corridor and entered the bathroom. She washed her face. She brushed her teeth. She used the toilet.

Standing in the bathroom doorway for a moment, she got her bearings then switched off the light and angled across the dark hall to the staircase. She climbed the stairs slowly, gliding a hand up the banister.

Her room at the top, illuminated by a gray glow from its single window, seemed almost bright after the blackness of the staircase. Its open curtains trembled slightly in the breeze.

At this distance, Alison couldn’t feel the breeze at all. The room felt stifling, even worse than she had expected.

No middle ground, she thought. You’re either shivering or sweating.

She lowered her purse to the floor, out of the way so she wouldn’t trip over it if she needed to make a late trip to the toilet.

Then she took off her blouse and dropped it to the floor. She unfastened her shorts. She drew them down, along with her panties, and stepped out of them.

The room was still uncomfortably hot, but she could feel a hint of the breeze on her bare skin.

With a glance over her shoulder, she stepped backward to the door of her closet and leaned against it. The door banged shut. She flinched and caught her breath, shocked as much by the support giving way behind her as by the sharp noise.

She took a deep, trembling breath.

She bumped the door with her buttocks. Now it was shut all the way.

The smooth, painted wood felt cool on her skin. Braced against it, she raised one leg and pulled off her shoe and sock. Then the other.

At the dresser, she opened a drawer and moved her hand across the clothing. Her fingers slipped over the filmy fabric of the new negligee. It was lighter than the others, and would feel fine on a night such as this. She took it out, carried it past the end of her bed, and stood in front of the window.

The faint breeze drifted in, roaming her skin. Not long ago, the cool air had chilled her to the bone. Now, it felt wonderful. It curled around Alison’s thighs, slipped between her legs, caressed her belly, slid over her breasts and beneath her arms. She dropped the negligee. She placed her hands high on the window frame and spread her legs and closed her eyes.