Charles Williams - Hill Girl

“Of course I didn’t fight with Lee. He’s nice. And he knows how to treat girls.”

“Well, maybe it’s me.” I went over and sat down on the bed close to her. She half turned toward me, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. “Now tell me just what’s wrong with me that we start swinging at each other the minute we get within range.”

“All right,” she said, “I’ll tell you. You’re always looking for trouble. You’re big and tough, at least on the outside, and you’re sarcastic, and you never try to be friendly, and you don’t want people to be friendly with you. You just want to be left alone, and if people don’t leave you alone you want to fight ‘em. You can say nice things to a girl if you want to, but the trouble is you never want to. Today was the only time you ever did try to be nice, and that only lasted an hour or so. The rest of the time you just make nasty remarks at me and say things that don’t make sense and try to give me the idea that you think I’m a little slut. Well, I’ve told you before it don’t make any difference to me whether you think I’m no good or not, and you haven’t got any right to set yourself up as a judge. Now, does that satisfy you?”

“Yes, that would seem to answer the question.”

“You’re stubborn and you think you’re the only one who can be right and you’re too hard-boiled for anybody to get along with and you don’t care what people think, and you go out of your way to say things that hurt because you think it’s smart to make tough remarks like that.”

Well, I asked for it, I thought, and sat there silently until she finished. Her eyes were angry and flashing and I caught myself thinking they still were beautiful even that way.

“There’s one more thing,” she said.

“Haven’t you said enough?”

“No. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t say this too. You could be nicer than anybody else if you wanted to be. There is something awfully nice about you, but you keep it covered up for fear somebody will see it. Now,” she went on, “you might as well tell me what you think of me. If it’s fair for one, it’s fair for the other. What is it about me you don’t like?”

I studied this for a minute, looking at her, while she waited with her eyes questioning.

“Well?”

“I’ll be damned if I know. Maybe it’s because most of the time you’re such a pigheaded little brat. And I was afraid of you.”

“Afraid?” she asked incredulously.

“Afraid of what you could do to Lee and Mary if you didn’t stay away from him. They’re two people I happen to like a lot and I didn’t want them to break up, and that’s exactly what would happen if she ever got wise to you. And he needs her.”

“Since when have you had to run everybody’s business for them?”

“Skip it,” I said. “What do you say we try to see if we can’t get along the rest of the day without fighting? Let’s pretend we’re a newly married couple on their honeymoon.”

“We are.”

“Let’s pretend we’re a newly married—” I started, and then caught myself and shut up. Maybe she was right, I thought. I do look for trouble. If I’d stop riding her we’d have a much better chance of getting along peaceably.

“I think I’ll have my hair cut,” she said. She had apparently decided to ignore my latest witticism. “I’ll go first thing in the morning and have it bobbed. I’ve been dying to for years, but Papa never would let me.”

“That’s silly. Your hair’s pretty. What do you want to cut it off for?”

“Do you really like it?” She swiftly pulled a few hairpins and shook her head and her hair fell about her shoulders in a cloud. “But it’s too long this way, isn’t it?”

She got up out of the chair and sat down beside me on the bed, sitting close and looking up at me. She took one of my hands and pushed it into the mass of hair and it felt cool and soft and fine. I let it run between my fingers.

“That’s better than fighting, isn’t it?” she asked. She leaned a little toward me and smiled. I shoved my face into the cascading blondeness at the side of her throat and I could feel the pulse in my temples thumping and making the same kind of noise you make hitting the big bag. One-two. One-two.

“And I’m going to get some perfume. What kind do you like? I never had any in my life.”

“You don’t need it.”

“Why not?”

“It’d be shooting the birds on the ground.”

“Who’s talking about birds?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Is somebody?” The noises out in the street were closing down now and going far away and there wasn’t anybody left in the world but the two of us and I tried taking a deep breath to see why breathing was so laborious and it just wouldn’t go down. There didn’t seem to be any room in my chest for it. She sounded a long way off and I tried to hear what she was saying. “You can be so sweet when you want to be, Bob.”

I picked her up in my arms and stood up and walked around the bed away from the window. She let her head tilt back and looked up at me quietly, her eyes wide and dark.

“You’re not so tough,” I said.

“I don’t want to be. You make me not tough.”

“You’re not very big either. Not big enough to be looking for trouble all the time. I could throw you right out the window from here.”

“Throw me out the window, Bob. Afterward.”

“Maybe I will.”

She put an arm up around my neck and drew herself up until her lips were right against my face. “Say something nice to me, Bob,” she whispered. “After a while you’ll probably say something mean, but right now something nice. Just a little nice.”

“You’re the goddamnedest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes regarded me questioningly from a distance of three inches, very soft and wide and lovely. “Is that nice?” she asked. “If it is, I like it.”

I was having a hard time talking and just nodded my head. She hit me harder than anything ever had before.

Fifteen

Something awakened me in the dark and I looked at the luminous dial of my watch. It was three o’clock. And then I felt again the thing that had brought me out of my sleep; it was a hand running softly along my arm and across the shoulder. It was a small hand and smooth and cool and its touch was caressing.

“Are you awake, Bob?” she asked softly.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry I waked you up.”

“It’s too hot to sleep anyway.”

“What time is it?”

“Three. I must have been asleep for a couple of hours. It was about eleven when we came back from getting something to eat, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know. You keep track of the time for us. But I’m real sorry about waking you up. I was feeling all the muscle in your arm. And behind your shoulder. There’s regular ropes of it. Why are you so strong?”

“Clean living. Avoiding alcohol and tobacco and loose women.”

“You always joke about everything, don’t you? Bob, have you decided yet what we’re going to do? Are you going to New Orleans today?”

“No. I don’t want to go to New Orleans now.”

“Why not? I thought you wanted to go.”

“Not now,” I said.

It was very quiet outside now, with only a lone car going by in the street now and then. We lay there in the dark without anything over us, listening to the humming of the overhead fan.

“Bob,” she said after a while.

“What?”

“I want to know why you changed your mind about going down there.”

“I don’t know why. I just lost interest in it.”

“Is it because you think you have to take care of me? You don’t have to, you know.”

“No,” I said. “That isn’t it.”

“But you don’t want me around, do you?”