midnight, and she was irritated that he was not home. She had told him, repeatedly, that he must be home before eleven thirty, but more and more, it seemed, he'd been staying out later and later. And I really don't know where he is… Or who he's with! I hardly ever see my children… Anymore. They're gone off to school before I get up, and they're out, somewhere when I come home at night. No, it's Donnie that's out, Charity's always here, at least, when she does go out on a date she's got enough sense to come home at a reasonable hour.
She let herself in the front door. Her husband was seated before the television set watching a movie re-run. He had made no move to open the door, barely glancing up when she came in and responding only with a grunt to her greeting and brush of a kiss. He took a swig from his ever-present can of beer, looked up at her, finally, as she turned to go into their bedroom that opened off the living room and said, 'Out kind of late, ain't you?'
'I had to work overtime,' Dottie lied. 'One of the girls had some car trouble… and couldn't get to work on time.'
'Oh…?' He was satisfied.
'Did you see about that job at the mobile home factory?'
'Yeah, they filled it already. No jobs available, they said…'
'And the dairy job across town…'
'Didn't make it…' Gabe growled, 'ran into a couple of buddies and drank a few beers. Swapped a few yarns…'
She went into their bathroom, musing that they didn't call her husband 'Gabby' for nothing. He was just that. When he sat in a bar with some of his old crones, the hours flew away from him as he talked and told stories. Yes, he was well-known in the town as drunken Gabby Scott, ne're do well, unable to hold a job for more than a few months, a man who was willing to let his wife support him and their two children. He was a real mess, and Dottie wondered why she continued to put up with him. If I'd had any sense I would have divorced him ten years ago…! But, here I am still married to him, slaving to keep us together as a family, and I take on men on the side, for a little extra cash, acting the whore, and trying to be respectable at the same time! Dear God, what else could I do? I guess I love him, still… I did love him, I think, when we were first married, or maybe it's just blind loyalty… loyalty to the children… because I thought they needed a father…
She turned off her thoughts about her family as she prepared for bed. She was tired, physically and emotionally. She had risen at about ten in the morning, did her housework, reported for work at two thirty in the afternoon… and afterwards the hour and a half she had spent with the salesman: that had really done her in. His sex techniques had only served to arouse her, to be left dangling, emotionally, when he had cum, the end result being frustration. Remembering the sex act, she decided she had better wash herself, even though she had insisted, in spite of his grumbling, that he use some protection. Thank God, I've been lucky so far, no disease… or pregnancy…! And to think how often I take the risk! God! Is it all worth it?
The bathroom connected with Charity's bedroom. On impulse, Dottie opened the door a crack and looked in on her firstborn, a beautiful, young girl budding into young womanhood. Charity lay in her bed, sound asleep, a sweet, serene expression on her face, her upraised arm had brought a mounding breast up from under the sheet, its contour under her thin nightgown promising a fullness that was also her mother's. Her face was framed in a glory of auburn hair, and Dottie could think of only one word to describe her daughter in peaceful sleep: innocence.
… And as she watched, a fleeting grimace crossed Charity's face. It was an expression of pain. Dottie guessed instantly. It was time for her daughter's menses to begin. She had remembered marking it, secretly, on the calendar. She didn't know why she did it, but perhaps she didn't expect the innocent to remain innocent. It was, she realized, a cynical attitude, a fear that corruption begets corruption… or simple guilt on her part, the hypocrisy of the lie she, herself, was living making her suspicious… almost paranoid concerning her daughter's chastity. She told herself that she was only being protective. Kids these days seem to have lost any sense of decency! They're reaching out for sex long before they're emotionally ready for it! Sex and drugs! It's just horrible!
She finished her bath and came out into the bedroom, a towel wrapped about her. Heading for the dresser to get a clean nightgown, she was aware that Gabe lay on the bed in his shorts, the bulge of an erection throbbing up against the fly of the thin cloth.
'Dottie, you got a ten-spot you can let me have?'
She hesitated. 'No, I'm saving to get our couch upholstered, and I've got just enough, now,' she told him. 'I've already picked out the…'
'God damn it!' he roared. 'I ask you for ten, and I get ten reasons why I can't have it!'
He came off the bed, bounding over to her, moving fast for his corpulence. 'And how about a piece of ass, or are you too tired… or too sleepy?' His hands reached to rip the towel from her body, revealing her lovely nudity to him. Instantly, he crushed her in a bear-hug, his lips seeking hers.
She turned her face aside and said. 'Please, Gabe, not tonight! I am dead tired, and…'
Crack!
His open palm caught her across the face. 'Bitch!' he growled. 'I ought to give you something to remember!' He drew back his hand to strike, again.
'P-Please, Gabe, don't hit me again…' she begged, tears welling into her eyes from the pain and humiliation. 'I–I'll go to bed w-with you, a-and you can have the ten you want…'
CHAPTER TWO
At about seven, that evening, Don Scott had dialed Marcy's number. Her voice came down the wire to him, knowing and throaty, 'Oh, Don… I was wondering if you'd call.'
'You know it… like you came on strong, this afternoon!'
'Like what…'
'Like you make the motions… send up smoke signals…'
'You curious…?' she queried.
'You know it…!'
'Curious enough to find out… for sure… Don?'
'Like groovy! Where?'
'My house,' she said. 'My parents have split!' She gave him her address, over near the college.
'I'm on my way.'
'Bring some bread, Don!'
He thought she was joking. 'You putting me on?'
'No, man! I said to bring bread… and that's it! Otherwise no party!' She hung up on him.
'CHRIST!' He spat at the dead phone. The little bitch! God damned little whore! Christ… And I thought she was interested in me!
Don looked in his wallet; he had a ten-dollar bill he was saving. He had been planning to use it for the next school dance scheduled for the following Friday. Oh, well, maybe I can earn some more before then… or sell something to get a little extra bread! Christ! I've got to see Marcy, though.
He went back into his bedroom; his search turned up another 75 cents in change. He'd have enough for a couple of packs of cigarettes. An inspiration struck him and on impulse he carried it out. Carrying the ten-dollar bill was foolish, he decided; he should have two fives, instead.
Going back through the kitchen, dining room and living room, he went into his parents' bedroom and rummaged in a drawer where he knew his mother kept some cash.
Charity was watching a television show and doing some math homework, at the same time. She saw Donnie go into the front bedroom. Curious, she got up and followed him into the room. She saw him with bills in his hand.
'Donnie! What are you doing in Mom's drawer?'
Startled, he looked up and grinned, 'Just changing a ten for two fives…'
'It looked like you were… well, taking something…' she accused.
'Stealing…?' He was incredulous. 'Not me that's not my bag!' he assured.
He put the money back in the drawer and put the two fives in his wallet.
Charity still watched him. He looked at her, hard and said, 'What's with… little sister… don't you trust
