She looked at me with her eyes so wide I could see the red lining them. “
“Mr. Petersen. Louise, your father’s obviously upset, so maybe we should just—”
“My
Petersen’s smile was a wound in his face that wouldn’t heal. “I love you, Louise. I still love you.”
“He’s my
He said, “But you shouldn’t have been bad.”
“He lied to you! He knew I’d never come back if I knew it was
“I’m getting you out of here,” I said, and took her by the hand, as Seth said, “I’ll always love you, Louise,” and a big black pistol came out from behind his back and blew a hole through her.
She swung in my arm like a rag doll, flung back by the impact. It pulled me down with her, my ears ringing from the gunshot; hit my head on the edge of a bench.
I wasn’t out long but when I looked up Seth hovered over me, and her; I didn’t have my gun, but I’m not sure I’d have had the presence of mind to use it if I had.
No matter. I looked up and Seth receded above me, his legs miles long, his head a tiny thing he was pointing the gun at, an old Army .45 revolver it must’ve been, and the muzzle flashed orange and my ears rang and his tiny head came apart in a red burst; then he fell like a tree, away from us, leaving a scarlet mist in the air where he’d stood.
I heard screaming. Not Louise’s. She had a blossom of red below the white collar of her new yellow dress, and lay silent, staring. It was the mother under the nearby tree doing the screaming, on her feet now, holding her little boy to her, shielding her little boy from the sight, but not able to keep her own eyes off it. The terrier was yapping.
I was just sitting there, spattered with their blood, the dead girl’s hand in mine.
Just sitting right there beside her for a long time, looking at her. Her eyes staring up at the sky. Her eyes. As big and brown as ever; so wide-set you almost had to look at them one at a time. But they weren’t beautiful anymore. I didn’t want to dive in there anymore. She was no longer in them.
So I closed them for her.
V
IEW FROM
S
ALLY
R
AND’S SUITE
V
IEW FROM
S
ALLY
R
AND’S SUITE
42
When I got to her suite, she was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb in white lounging pajamas, a cigarette in one too-casual hand. Her light brown hair was marcelled, her mouth startlingly red, her eyes startlingly blue under those long, long lashes.
“Hi, stranger,” Sally said.
“Hello, Helen,” I said sheepishly.
“I was beginning to think you’d never call.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”
She unstruck her pose and gestured with a red-nailed hand. “Come in and set a spell.”
“Thanks.” I took off my hat and went in, still feeling sheepish somehow. She closed the door behind me.
We sat on the sofa in her white living room; she kept her distance, but reached over and put her hand on my hand. I sat there looking ahead blankly. I couldn’t remember how to talk to her. I couldn’t remember how to talk to anybody.
“You look lousy,” she said.
“I feel lousy.”
“There could be a connection.”
I tried to smile; my lips couldn’t quite make it.
She said, “When’s the last time you slept?”
“I been sleeping a lot, really.”
“You mean you been passing out a lot.”
