Family Thang

Ruth Ann got up and went into the bathroom. Eric kicked off his sandals, hopped out of his baggy short pants and snatched off his V-neck T-shirt. He lay on the bed stark naked, his erection pointing north.

Ruth Ann stepped out, drying her face with a washcloth. She glanced at Eric, then sat down in the chair next to the bed.

“C’mon, baby,” Eric said, patting the bed. “I’ll make you feel better, all tingly inside.”

“Eric, you’re not listening. I can’t do this anymore. My sister, your son’s mother—I can’t do this anymore, not in good conscience. It’s wrong. It was wrong from the start. This should not have happened. I can’t do this anymore.”

Eric sat up. “Okay. I’ll start using a damn rubber.”

“No. Listen to what I’m saying. I cannot do this anymore. You hear me? I cannot do this anymore! Shirley’s my sister and technically she’s your wife. We can still be friends, but the hanky-panky is over. We were lucky no one got hurt. No longer we have to worry about Shirley or Lester finding out about us. You see what I’m saying? No more guilt feelings. We can live a moral life. You see what I’m saying?”

Eric wasn’t listening, watching his erection shrink slowly but surely.

He stood up directly in front of her. “One for the road, okay? Just once more, and then we’ll start being friends.” He was on the rise again. “Come on, baby.”

Ruth Ann shook her head.

“C’mon, Ruth Ann, one more time. Look, he’s all excited.” Ruth Ann closed her eyes. Damn… double damn! She was so close. “Ruth Ann, look at me.”

Shaking her head emphatically: “No, Eric!”

He moved closer and brushed himself against the side of her face.

“No, Eric!” and pushed him. He fell onto the bed. “It’s over, Eric.” Starting for the door: “It’s best you understand that.”

Eric jumped to his feet, ran to the door and pressed his back against it. “Hold on, Ruth Ann, just hold on. Let’s talk, okay? Don’t leave me like this!”

Pulling on the doorknob: “I’ve got to go, Eric. I told Lester I’d be back in thirty minutes. I’ve been gone an hour.”

“Fuck Lester!”

“Let me out, please!”

“Ruth Ann, wait a minute. You can’t leave me like this. I…” He swallowed. “I-I love you, Ruth Ann. I really do!” That was hard, incredibly hard. His father had warned him never to tell a woman those three words unless he planned to marry and take care of her. Until now he’d obeyed the edict. “Honest, Ruth Ann. Cross my heart. I swear!”

Ruth Ann paused, stared him straight in the eye for a beat. Is she giving in? He could only hope. So he told her those three awful words again and again.

“Ruth Ann, I love you more than…” Than what? This was shaky ground; if he named something he treasured, she might want him to fork it over.

“I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” That seemed safe. “Don’t end our love like this. Please, baby, not like this.” He hugged her and she didn’t resist. “I love you so much.” Kissed her ear, eye, nose, neck. “Too much, really.” Urged her toward the bed. “I love you, Ruth Ann.”

She stopped at the bed. “Do you have a prophylactic?”

“A what?”

“A rubber.”

“Oh, yeah. I got one right here.” He picked up his pants, fished inside the pocket and pulled out a small red package. “Here it is.”

Ruth Ann took it. “Lie down. I’ll do it.”

Eric practically dove onto the bed.

“Close your eyes,” she told him.

This was new, yet he was more than willing to play along. He heard the package open—she’s using her mouth? She was so skilled with her mouth. And then he felt her hands on him.

“Say arrivederci,” Ruth Ann said.

“Arrivederci.”

He waited, anxiously, eyes squinched tight. He started to tell her to go ’head and do it when he heard the door opening. “Get back here!”

Ruth Ann closed the door behind her. Eric gave chase. She was walking casually down the walkway toward the end of the motel when he ran out.

She looked back, saw him running toward her, shrieked and started sprinting. Eric caught her just as she turned the corner.

“Ruth Ann, come back inside.” He pulled her by her wrist.

“Let me go, Eric. Let me go! Stop it now!”

“We have to talk… inside the motel room… like normal people. C’mon, stop acting silly.”

“No, Eric! I said stop. If you don’t stop I’ll scream.”

“C’mon, Ruth Ann. You gonna make people think I’m doing something to you.” He said this calmly, rationally, as if they were on a stroll in a public park instead of him stark naked and her resisting being pulled by the wrist.

Ruth Ann screamed and collapsed into a ball on the pavement. The door directly behind them, room number two, opened and a tall white man wearing only boxers and alligator-skinned boots stepped out.

“Pardon me, young fellow,” he said just as Eric was attempting to lift Ruth Ann into a fireman’s carry. Louder: “Pardon me!”

Eric turned and looked up. The blinking red lights made it impossible to discern the man’s face.

“There’s a western showing on the tube, cowboy. This here ain’t your business.” He returned his attention to Ruth Ann and tried to lift her, but couldn’t get a good hold. “C’mon, Ruth Ann. Stop this nonsense!”

All he had to do was pick her up and carry her the short distance to the motel room. Yeah, he thought as he kneeled to get a better grip, get her back inside, talk to her, bang her real good, and everyone would be happy.

Ruth Ann, arms wrapped around her legs, fingers interlocked, head tucked between her knees, screamed.

“Excuse me young fellow,” the man said again.

“Didn’t I tell you get some business, Roy Rogers?”

“Ma’am, is this fellow bothering you?”

“Yes, he is!”

“Step away from the lady, young fellow. Now!”

“Make me!” He moved to lift Ruth Ann in a jerk-and-roll maneuver when he heard a metallic clip-clap. He froze.

“I’m mighty tired of repeating myself. Step away from the lady, boy!”

Eric swallowed. He knew what he would see before turning—the transition from young fellow to boy was too quick for the man not to have a gun—and when he did, sure enough the cowboy was aiming a weapon at him. Not a gun, uh-uh; not an old rusty revolver, what you would’ve expected from a galoot like him, but a shotgun.

Eric felt his heart in his throat. He raised both hands as he stood up. Where on earth had the man concealed the damn thing?

“You’re moving too slow to my liking, boy,” gesturing with the shotgun.

Eric, moving his head left and right, not liking at all the shotgun shadowing him, said, “Sir, is there a problem?”

“Shut your pie hole, boy. Hey, Ebb, get out here.”

Another cowboy, this one shorter, rounder in the middle, in a pink bathrobe, stepped out of the motel room. “Yes, Harold,” he said.

“Ebb, help the lady to her feet.”

Ebb moved to assist Ruth Ann, but she stood on her own. “I’ll guess I’ll be going now,” she said.