brown Army Blanket. A large button pinned to the sun visor on the passenger side
says: I WANT IT EVERY DAY. There is a rusty starter assembly on the back seat; if
it ever stops raining he will clean it, he thinks, and maybe put it into the Dodge. Or maybe not The Buick smells musty and his own starter grinds a long time before the
Buick starts up.
‘Is it your battery?’ she asks.
‘Just the goddam rain, I guess.’ He backs out onto the road, flicking on the
windshield wipers and pausing for a moment to look at the house. It is a completely
unappetizing aqua colour. The shed sticks off from it at a ragtag, double-jointed angle, tarpaper and peeled -looking shingles.
The radio comes on with a blare and Chico shuts it off at once. There is the
beginning of a Sunday afternoon headache behind his forehead. They ride past the
Grange hall and the Volunteer Fire Department and Brownie’s Store. Sally Morrison’s
T-Bird is parked by Brownie’s hi-test pump, and Chico raises a hand to her as he turns off onto the old Lewiston road.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Sally Morrison.’
‘Pretty lady.’ Very neutral.
He feels for his cigarettes. ‘She’s been married twice and divorced twice. Now
she’s the town pump, if you believe half the talk that goes on in this shitass little
town.’
‘She looks young.’
‘She is.’
‘Have you ever -‘
He slides his hand up her leg and smiles. ‘No,’ he says. ‘My brother, maybe,
but not me. I like Sally, though. She’s got her alimony and her big white Bird, and she doesn’t care what people say about her.’
It starts to seem like a long drive. The Androscoggin, off to the right, is slaty
and sullen.
The ice is all out of it now. Jane has grown quiet and thoughtful. The only
sound is the steady snap of the windshield wipers. When the car rolls through the dips in the road there is groundfog, waiting for evening when it will creep out of these
pockets and take over the whole River Road.
They cross into Auburn and Chico drives the cutoff and swings onto Minot
Avenue. The four lanes are nearly deserted, and all the suburban homes look
packaged. They see one little boy in a yellow plastic raincoat walking up the sidewalk, carefully stepping in all the puddles.
‘Go, man,’ Chico says softly.
‘What?’Jane asks.
‘Nothing, babe. Go back to sleep.’
She laughs a little doubtfully.
Chico turns up Keston Street and into the driveway of one of the packaged
houses. He doesn’t turn off the ignition. ‘Come in and I’ll give you cookies,’ she says.
He shakes his head. ‘I have to get back.’.
‘I know.’ She puts her arms around him and kisses him. “Thank you for the
most wonderful time of my life.’
He smiles suddenly. His face shines. It is nearly magical. ‘I’ll see you Monday,
Janey-Jane. Still friends, right?’
‘You know we are,’ she says, and kisses him again… but when he cups a breast
through her jumper, she pulls away. ‘Don’t. My father might see.’
He lets her go, only a little of the smile left. She gets out of the car quickly and
runs through the rain to the back door. A second later she’s gone. Chico pauses for a
moment to light a cigarette and then he backs out of the driveway. The Buick stalls
and the starter seems to grind forever before the engine manages to catch. It is a long ride home. When he gets there, Dad’s station wagon is parked in the driveway. He
pulls in beside it and lets the engine die. For a moment he sits inside silently, listening to the rain. It is like being inside a steel drum.
Inside, Billy is watching Carl Stormer and his Country Buckaroos on the TV
set When Chico comes in, Billy jumps up, excited. ‘Eddie, hey Eddie, you know what
Uncle Pete said? He said him and a whole mess of other guys sank a Kraut sub in the
war! Will you take me to the show next Saturday?’
‘I don’t know,’ Chico says, grinning. ‘Maybe if you kiss my shoes every night