Ларри Макмертри - The Last Picture Show

In a moment he was above her and Jacy pressed her hands against the hard muscles of his arms, not sure of anything. Then he moved and she was sure again, sure it was hurting, sure he was too much. She stretched her arms above her head and caught her fingers in the corner pockets, sucking in her breath. She wanted to tell him to quit but he was ignoring her, and before she could tell him it changed; she was no longer hurting but she was still ignored. He was just going on, absorbed in himself, moving, nudging, thrusting—she was no more than an object. She wanted to protest that, but before she could she began to lose sight of herself, lose hold of herself. She was rolled this way and that, into feelings she hadn't known, hadn't expected, couldn't avoid. She lost all thought of doing anything, she was completely lost to herself. He played her out as recklessly as he had played the final ball, and when he did she scattered as the red balls had scattered when the white one struck them so hard. She spread out, diffused, almost unconscious. Abilene said nothing. Jacy didn't know anything until she realized he had left the table and was not touching her anymore.

In a minute she got up too and tried to find something of herself. It was all new, and it was going to be wonderful. Abilene was going to be in love with her, and he counted for more than Bobby Sheen or any of the boys at the club. The only thing that worried her was that he kept ignoring her. He didn't even help her find her clothes. But it was such a romantic situation, screwing in a poolhall, that surely being in love would follow. When they got back in the Mercury she tried to make him say something to her.

"What a night," she said. "I never thought anything like this would happen."

"Yeah," Abilene said. They pulled into the Farrow driveway and he glanced at her. She leaned over and kissed him but he turned his face away. Jacy got out, very puzzled, and walked across the yard. When she was halfway across, Abilene raced his motor and made his mufflers roar, so that anyone in the neighborhood who was awake would know what car was in the driveway. Then he backed out and left.

It was not until she stepped in the back door that Jacy realized her mother was home and would have heard the mufflers.

Lois did hear them—she was in the den in her bathrobe and slip, having a light drink and watching a Spencer Tracy movie on the Late Show. When she heard Abilene's car she got up and went to the kitchen, wondering what he wanted at that time of night. She had not even realized that Jacy was out until they met in the kitchen. Jacy's hair was tangled and she was barefooted, her slippers in her hand. She looked scared and very confused, and in a moment a couple of tears leaked out of her eyes—she had just realized that Abilene wasn't going to be in love with her at all. It was a terrible disappointment. She was too upset to keep quiet.

"Oh, he's awful," she said. "Why do you fool with him, Mama? Daddy's a nicer man than him, isn't he?"

Lois could only shake her head. She sat her glass down and with a Kleenex ruefully wiped Jacy's wet face. "He sure is, honey," she said. "Your Daddy's a very nice man. I ought to have given Abilene hell, instead of him."

At that moment she didn't feel capable of giving anyone hell, or anything else, either. What Abilene had done hit hard, and her legs felt weak. She freshened her drink and went back to the den to sit down, but the movie was just a blur. For a minute she felt like crying, but she felt too insignificant to cry, too valueless. When she went back in to get another drink, Jacy was sitting morosely at the cabinet reading an article on lipsticks in an old fashion magazine.

"Go to bed, honey," Lois said. "Or come and watch television with me. Brooding's no good."

Jacy didn't feel like going to bed, so she obediently followed her mother into the den and they looked at Spencer Tracy for a while. In a few minutes Jacy began to cry again. She was sitting on the floor and she moved back against Lois' legs and put her face in her mother's lap. Lois stroked her hair.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Jacy said, looking up. "What do you do about it, Mama? Life just isn't the way it's supposed to be at all."

"You're right," Lois said, smoothing back the hair on her daughter's temples. "It isn't the way it's supposed to be at all, but what I've done about it hasn't worked very well. Maybe we better work out something different for you."

chapter twenty-one

Her, disappointment with Abilene left Jacy very depressed. It was only the middle of July and she couldn't leave for college for six weeks, but she just couldn't stand the idea of staying in Thalia that much longer. She had slept with two of the most interesting men in the whole area, and neither one of them had fallen in love with her or even shown any particular interest in sleeping with her again. Screwing in the poolhall had been wild while it lasted, but it was hardly going to keep her from rotting with boredom for the rest of the summer. It would have helped if she could have told somebody about it-if the story got out that she had slept with Abilene on a snooker table she would have been a legend in Thalia forever, but she couldn't think of any way to publicize it. Neither Abilene nor her mother were going to, that was for sure, so the whole thing was just wasted. It was disgusting.

The more she thought about matters the more annoyed she was at Duane for leaving town so soon. Things would not have looked quite so dull if he had stayed around. She was not about to start up again with Lester.

One morning while she and Lois were eating a listless breakfast, Jacy gave vent to her irritation.

"I'll be so glad to get to Dallas," she said. "I don't see how people keep livin' in this town. There's not one thing to do."

"Well, there is one thing to do," Lois said, chewing a section of orange. "The problem is finding a man to do it with who isn't either dull or obnoxious. Right now I guess Ruth Popper's got about as good a setup as anybody."

Jacy was amazed. "Ruth Popper," she said. "You mean you would like to do that with the coach, Mama? Why I think he's the most horrible man around here. He's even worse than Abilene."

"I didn't say anything about him," Lois said, spitting the orange seeds into her hand. "I wouldn't let that tub of guts come within fifteen feet of me. Ruth's been sleeping with Sonny Crawford for about six months now, didn't you know? I don't know Sonny very well but he's reasonably good looking and he's young. If I didn't have anything better than Herman Popper, Sonny would look awfully good."

"What?" Jacy said, "Are you kidding me? Sonny sleeping with Mrs. Popper? Why that's the silliest thing I ever heard of. She's forty years old."

"So am I, honey," Lois said. "It's kind of an itchy age. You want the rest of this orange?"

Jacy was just flabbergasted—life was crazy. She didn't want the orange, and she didn't like the idea of Sonny sleeping with Mrs. Popper. That wouldn't do at all. She had always considered Mrs. Popper mousy, and besides Sonny had always wanted to go with her, not with someone forty years old. It was unflattering of him to sleep with Mrs. Popper.

It did end her boredom, though. She decided then and there that she would stop that romance and stop it good. She would go with Sonny for the rest of the summer, and he would never give Mrs. Popper another thought. He was reasonably good looking, like her mother said, and going with him wouldn't be too unpleasant. It would make August pass a lot quicker. Necking with him might even be fun, but she made up her mind right away that she wasn't going to let him screw her. She had had quite enough of that for one summer—it didn't really work out. She was nostalgic for the days when boys necked with her and wanted her desperately and didn't get her. That was better than actually screwing, somehow. When she got to college she could start screwing again and there it would probably be altogether great. Fraternity boys were gentlemen and would fall right in love with her when she let them screw her.