Joe Lansdale - A Fine Dark Line

I banged my shoulder against the door, and I started to yell Callie’s name.

I did this two or three times, then the door opened quickly, and James grabbed me and pulled me in and shut the door.

“Shut up. You’ll disturb everyone. I ought to knock the shit out of you.”

I looked and saw the projector clicking away, its little light glowing blue in there, and in the blueness of it I saw Callie against the wall. The front of her blouse had two buttons snapped off. I saw then that James had marks down his face. They ran from just below his eye to the bottom of his chin.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“You’re too young to know,” he said.

Callie hustled toward me. When she got to the door, she said to him, “Don’t ever come near me. You hear? My daddy finds this out. And he will. He’ll break every bone in your body.”

James moved closer, laughed a little. “It probably wouldn’t have been any good anyway. Some cross-the-tracks stuff. Drive-in trash. You little tramp. You’re nothing but a tease.”

Callie slapped him and stomped on his foot. He bent down and tried to say “bitch,” but it didn’t come out right.

Callie grabbed my arm and we went out and down and into the lobby, her holding the top of her blouse against her.

As we went by the concession, the girl there said, “Hey, girlie. He likes it rough, don’t he? And let me tell you something. He gets it once, he doesn’t want it twice. I know.”

The Coke was still on the counter. Callie picked it up, flung it in the girl’s face. “It doesn’t surprise me you know,” Callie said, and we went out into the sunshine.

We walked to the car, and when she was behind the steering wheel, she put her head on it and began to cry and shake.

“Did he hurt you, Callie?”

“He put his hand inside my blouse, the bastard. I scratched his face and I kicked him in his things. What hurts, Stan, is he thought I would let him. He always thought that, from the first time he saw me. I guess I did lead him on, teasing like that. But I didn’t tease about . . . Well, you know. I just flirted. I . . . Oh, Stan. I don’t know what I did.”

“Whatever it was,” I said, touching her arm, “he didn’t have cause to do that.”

She sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand and drove home.

———

BACK AT THE HOUSE, in the drive, Callie collected herself.

“Are you going to tell Daddy?” I said.

“I don’t think I should. I don’t want him to know I was—”

“You weren’t doing anything. He offered to show you how the projector worked.”

“I don’t care how a projector works. I wanted to be with him . . . Not that way . . . He’s older and cute, and I thought, well . . . I don’t know what I thought. Oh, Drew isn’t going to like this either. I like Drew. I shouldn’t have been playing around like that. I wanted to prove to you I could get the information you wanted. But I don’t know I really meant to do that. I was . . . I feel so . . . cheap.”

“You’re not cheap. You fought him, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Did it surprise him when you fought back?”

“Sure did. He tried to kiss me and I didn’t let him. Lots of guys try to kiss me, so that was nothing, and I wasn’t mean about it. I just said something like, ‘Uh uh.’ Then he put his hands on me and I slapped him. He didn’t like that. He slapped me and I clawed his face. He grabbed my shirt, tore the buttons, said he’d do what he wanted. But I kicked him, and he went to his knees. He just got up when you came. I was ready to fight some more, but I’m glad you came and I didn’t have to. It was near soundproof up there. That’s why he took me up there. That way if I yelled, wasn’t a thing anyone could do about it. They wouldn’t hear me unless they were standing right outside the door. I’m glad you came, Stanley. I’m really glad.”

“Me too.”

Callie took a tissue from the glove box and worked on the makeup that had run from her eyes. She wiped her smudged lipstick off. She put on fresh makeup and pulled her blouse together where the buttons had come loose.

“I never knew things were like this,” she said.

“Me neither.”

“I look okay?”

“Except for the blouse . . . And you look a little hangdog. I was you, I’d go straight for my room.”

“That’s what I plan.”

———

INSIDE, Rosy was on the couch reading a magazine. She stood up when we came in, realized she was caught not working. She smiled, then her smile went downhill. She studied Callie.

“What happened to you, Miss Callie?”

“Happened?” Callie said. “Oh, nothing. You mean my blouse? I caught it myself. With my hand. Stupid thing. I—”

“Miss Callie, you lyin’ to me.”

“Rosy. How dare you.”

“Some man done had his hands on you.”

“What are you talking about, Rosy? I can’t believe—”

“I know, ’cause I been there enough I can tell. I can tell jes’ the way you hold yo’self. You ain’t at yourself, and I can tell.”

“Rosy, you’re being foolish.”

Rosy stepped forward and lightly slapped Callie on the side of her face.

Callie looked up in astonishment, put her hand to her cheek.

“I don’t mean to do more of what’s already done, but I’m doin’ it for your own good. You don’t be keepin’ this to yo’self. Don’t do what I done. Man don’t need to be puttin’ his hands on you. You ask yo’ mama. Yo’ daddy don’t treat her that way. Was it that Drew?”

Callie suddenly burst into tears. “No,” she said.

“He hit you?” Rosy said, taking Callie in her arms.

“It wasn’t him,” I said. “It was James Stilwind.”

Rosy nodded, guided Callie to the couch. Daddy came into the room, looked at me standing by the door, Callie on the couch with Rosy. Rosy was holding Callie, rocking her, saying, “It gonna be all right, girl.”

“What in hell happened?” Daddy said.

No one answered.

Mom came into the room. “Why is Callie crying? Callie?”

Mom went over and sat on the couch so that Callie was between her and Rosy. Callie came loose of Rosy and hugged Mom.

Mom said, “Tell me, Callie.”

“Listen to your mother,” Daddy said. “Tell her . . . Who ripped your shirt? Callie?”

“Leave her alone, Mr. Stanley,” Rosy said. “She got to take her time.”

Daddy looked at me. “What happened, Stanley? You damn well better tell me. One of you better.”

“Mr. Stanley, you go on and leave the room,” Rosy said.

“What?” Daddy said. “Are you talkin’ to me?”

“I’m lookin’ at you, ain’t I?” Rosy said.

“Now, Rosy—”

“Now, you listen to me. I’m grateful for all you done for me. But am I part of this family, or ain’t I?”

Daddy groped for words, didn’t find any.

Callie said between tears, “You are, Rosy. You are.”

“She is,” Mom said.

“Well . . . yeah,” Daddy said.

“Then I got a say that matters, don’t I?” Rosy said.

“Sure,” Daddy said, “but—”

“No buts. You don’t need to be in this business yet. This is for the women. Then, we’ll tell you when you need to know.”

“If someone has hurt my little girl, I need to know,” Daddy said.

“You gonna find out soon enough,” Rosy said. “Now go on and leave.”

Daddy looked at me, said, “What about him?”

“He knows already,” Rosy said. “Now go on.”

Daddy, perplexed, turned and left the room. I heard him go outside on the veranda.

“Callie?” Mom said. “Can we have the story now? What could be the matter?”

Callie told her.

When she finished, Mom said, “If we tell your father, and we must, you know what’s going to happen.”