“Well, there you go,” he said. “I had a great time. You’re a very sexy lady, but you never know how these things are going to work out.”
He found it very disconcerting that she continued to ignore the blood that dripped from her nose. It trickled slowly down her torso toward her pubic patch. It was eerie that someone could so totally disregard an injury to herself.
“I tell you what,” she said, “since you don’t know how to use that thing of yours, you don’t really need it, do you?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you just leave it behind here with me. You’ll be better off without it. That way you won’t be making any more promises you can’t keep.”
Edgar thought he might very well leave without his shoe. She was getting weirder by the moment.
“What are you talking about?”
“You said you were going to take good care of me,” she said. “You promised.”
“Hey, I tried. You happen to have a little problem there.”
“You disappointed me,” she said. “Everyone is always disappointing me, and frankly. I’m getting just a little tired of it.”
She lifted her right hand to waist height. The thumb and forefinger were clasped around something.
“Come here, sweetie.” she said. “We’re going to relieve you of that thing that’s causing you all that trouble, and then you can run home to your mother.”
Edgar peered at her hand. She held a razor blade between her fingers.
“I told you to come here,” she said, her voice suddenly stem. “Do as you’re told. This instant.”
Dee took a step toward him and Edgar kicked out in panic, aiming for her crotch. His toes struck her in the abdomen and she tumbled forward. The razor blade fell from her fingers and Edgar picked it up off the carpet. She was on all fours, gasping for breath. He had half a mind to slash her on her exposed back just to show her how it would feel.
“You’re crazy!” he yelled at her. “You’re out of your mind!”
She muttered something he did not understand. He leaned over her, his mouth close to her ear.
“You’re crazy! You ought to be locked up!”
Her head hung down like a defeated animal and the blood dripped from her nose directly onto the carpet.
She muttered something again. Edgar bent closer, holding the razor blade as a weapon in case the crazy bitch tried to bite him or something else insane.
“What?”
She caught her breath.
“You think I’m crazy?” she said. She tilted her head up to look him in the face. She sounded amused. The blood ran over her lips, but she still did not seem to notice.
“I know you’re crazy,” he said.
He grabbed the door and yanked it open. The huge man from the restaurant whom he had seen trudging along the highway sat on the stoop in front of the door like a dog awaiting its master.
“You think I’m crazy?” she said.
The man stood up, blocking Edgar’s way.
Edgar looked from the man to Dee, who had rolled into a sitting position. He wanted to suggest that things had gone far enough, that he had meant no harm, that there was no need to carry things farther. Edgar tried to grin at her, to demonstrate his good will, his certainty that she bore him no real hard feelings.
Dee looked at him and smiled beatifically. The blood was smudged across her stomach where he had kicked her and the entire lower half of her face now seemed to have been painted red. When she spoke her teeth were smeared.
“He hurt me. Ash,” she said.
Ash grabbed Edgar by the throat and squeezed. Edgar managed to slash at him once with the razor blade before his body was hurled against the wall.
After Ash put the man in the trunk of his car he returned to the room to clean up the mess. Dee was curled up on the bed, still naked, her knees pressed to her chest, her face to the wall.
“We have to go, Dee,” he said. He put all of her clothes into the suitcase, folding them carefully as she had taught him.
“I just want to sleep,” she said. Her voice was so sad that Ash wanted to cry for her.
He put his extra shirt atop her clothes, then went to the bathroom to add their toiletries to the suitcase.
“We have to go before they come,” Ash said.
“I just want to sleep.” Her voice was low and fading, as if she were already deep in slumber. He knew she would be like this for several days, immobilized by lethargy, too depressed to even dress or feed herself. He had to get her away from the motel before she sank too deeply to be roused.
He checked her purse and made sure that her pills and his were still there. He tried to remember how many capsules had been in her vial the last time he checked, but he could not. She must not have taken any in several days, he knew that much. There was no point in trying to make her take one now. He knew from experience he would have to trick one into her somehow, but not when she was this low, and not when she was too high, either. She was too clever then. It was only when she would come out of this depression of her own accord, when she was on the way up but not yet high, and ravenously hungry after days of starvation, that he could slip one of the capsules into her food. After that she would take them herself. For a while. Never for long enough, but at least for a while.
Until she did come out of her depression enough to find them a place to stay, they would have to live in the car. Ash could never check into a motel by himself, he knew that. They would all surely know about him immediately. They would be able to tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he was not competent, that he was not to be trusted. They would laugh at him, or worse, send for the authorities to take care of him.
So he would have to wait until Dee could take care of both of them. He would find a rest stop on the highway where he could get food from the vending machines and water from the toilet facilities, and he would stay there and protect her. It wouldn’t matter to Dee where they were when she was in the worst of it. Any place with shelter would do until she returned to herself to take care of him.
Getting a washcloth to clean the blood from the carpet and the wall, he saw his reflection in the mirror and stared, surprised, at the cut that ran from his cheekbone to his jawline. It was shallow and hairline-thin, and the blood had already dried. He wasn’t aware that the Lyle had cut him. He hadn’t felt a thing.
He only managed to spread the smear on the wall, and the carpet seemed to have absorbed Dee’s blood like a sponge. Ash looked at the washcloth. His blood from the wall and Dee’s from the floor were mixed together into a brownish stain on the cloth. He liked the idea that their blood was mingled.
“We’re packed. Dee,” he said, approaching the bed with the washcloth rinsed and wet again. He rolled her over and began to dab at the blood that had dried on her face. Ash tried not to look at her naked body. It aroused him and it also embarrassed him.
With a sob. Dee threw her arms around his neck and pulled him onto her.
She nipped his ear with her teeth and then whispered directly into it so that Ash felt the effect in his groin, as if her warm breath was traveling all the way through him.
“Come on. Ash,” she whispered. “Come on.”
One hand held his neck and the other was already reaching between their bodies, fumbling with his belt.
Ash squeezed his eyes closed. He was so grateful. First that she was not as far gone as he had feared- although he knew it was just a matter of time-and second that she wanted him again. It was so seldom these days; there had been such a long succession of Lyles since last she had needed Ash.
He did not resist her in any way, but let her use him as she desired. It was the way she preferred it, and he preferred whatever she wanted.
With his eyes shut he imagined her as a bird, a large and beautiful and dangerous bird, graceful and effortless in flight, remorseless in pursuit. Lethal and lovely. She was an eagle.
