“Then I brought the pills back here.”
“Here? Where? Where are they?”
“I split them up into cellophane ten-packs.”
“Where have you hidden them?”
“I took them into town and sold them retail.”
“Oh Jesus. Oh my God. What have you gotten into? What’s wrong with you?”
“I paid five thousand bucks for the dope and sold it for fifteen thousand.”
“Huh?”
“That’s ten thousand clear. Now, if I can make that much profit every day for one month, I can get enough money together to buy a clipper ship and smuggle tons of opium from the Orient.”
He opened his eyes.
She was red-faced.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” she demanded.
“Call Mrs. Larkin,” he said. “She’ll probably still be there.”
“Who is Mrs. Larkin?”
“The librarian. She’ll tell you where I was all day.”
Weezy stared at him for a moment, then went into the kitchen to use the telephone. He couldn’t believe it. She actually called the library. He was humiliated.
When she came back to the living room, she said, “You were at the library all day.”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“‘Cause I like the library.”
“I mean, why’d you make up that story about buying pills down at the beach?”
“I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.”
“I suppose you think it’s funny.”
“Kind of funny.”
“Well, it’s not.”
She sat down in an armchair.
“All the conversations I’ve had with you during the past week-haven’t any of them sunk in?”
“Every word,” he said.
“I’ve told you that if you want to be trusted, you’ve got to earn that trust. If you want to be treated like an adult, you’ve got to behave like one. You seem to listen, and I let myself hope we’re getting somewhere, and then you pull a silly stunt like this. Do you understand what that does to me?”
“I think I do.”
“This childish thing you did, making up this story about buying pills down at the beach… it just makes me distrust you all the more.”
For a while neither of them spoke.
At last Colin broke the silence. “Are you eating at home tonight?”
“I can‘t, Skipper. I’ve got-”
“-a business engagement.”
“That’s right. But I’ll make your supper before I go.”
“Don’t bother.”
“I don’t want you eating junk.”
“I’ll make a cheese sandwich,” he said. “That’s as good as anything.”
“Have a glass of milk with it.”
“Okay.”
“What are your plans for the evening?”
“Oh, I guess maybe I’ll go to the movies,” he said, purposefully failing to mention Heather.
“Which theater?”
“The Baronet.”
“What’s playing?”
“A horror flick.”
“I wish you’d outgrow that sort of trash.”
He said nothing.
She said, “You’d better not forget your curfew.”
“I’m going to the early show,” Colin said. “It lets out by eight o‘clock, so I’ll be home before dark.”
“I’ll check on you.”
“I know.”
She sighed and stood up. “I’d better shower and change.” She walked to the hallway, then turned and looked at him again. “If you’d behaved differently a little while ago, maybe I wouldn’t find it necessary to check on you.”
“Sorry,” he said. And when he was alone, he said, “Bullshit.”
32
Colin’s first date with Heather was wonderful. Although the horror movie was not as good as he had hoped it would be, the last half hour was very scary; Heather was more frightened than he was, and she leaned toward him, held his hand in the dark, seeking reassurance and security. Colin felt uncharacteristically strong and brave. Sitting in the cool theater, in the velveteen shadows, in the pale, flickering light cast back by the screen, holding his girl’s hand, he thought he knew what heaven must be like.
After the movie, as the sun settled toward the Pacific, Colin walked her home. The air from the ocean was sweet. Overhead, the palms swayed and whispered.
Two blocks from the theater, Heather tripped on a hoved-up piece of the sidewalk. She didn’t fall or even come close to losing her balance, but she said, “Damnit!” She blushed. “I’m so damned clumsy.”
“They shouldn’t let the sidewalk deteriorate like that,” Colin said. “Someone could get hurt.”
“Even if they made it perfectly straight and smooth, I’d probably trip on it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m such a klutz.”
“No, you aren‘t,” he said.
“Yes, I am.” They started to walk again, and she said, “I’d give anything to be just half as graceful as my mother.”
“You are graceful.”
“I’m a klutz. You should see my mother. She doesn’t walk-she
For a minute they walked in silence.
Then Heather sighed and said, “I’m a disappointment to her.”.
“Who?”
“My mother.”
“Why?”
“I don’t measure up.”
“Up to what?”
“To her,” Heather said. “Did you know that my mother was Miss California?”
“You mean like in a beauty contest?”
“Yeah. She won. She won a lot of other contests, too.”
“When was this?”
“She was Miss California seventeen years ago, when she was nineteen.”
