Black Silk (27 page)

Darla wished she herself were wearing jeans so she could feel the seam run roughshod over her clit as she shifted her weight
again and again and again. Without thinking she sat on the barstool behind her and crossed her legs.

Dusty sank two more balls before Shelley got a chance to have her way with the table. She put up a fight, but in the end it
was Dusty’s table again.

Darla squeezed her legs together one more time then peeled her damp legs off the vinyl stool when she thought no one was looking.

“You must be Darlene?” Dusty approached her, just as she stood upright.

“I am. You can call me Darla though but only if you go easy on me.” She put out her hand. “I’m still learning. You don’t learn
if you don’t try.”

Dusty nodded again as she took Darla’s hand in both of hers. “Pleasure, Darla. Would you give me a minute though?”

“Sure.” Darla sounded chipper. She hadn’t thought about quarters and went to the bar for change. Shelley was talking to the
euchre women. Darla wondered what about as she got her quarters and headed back to the table.

Between the backward letters that from the outside spelled
PAT’S BAR & NO GRILL
on the window next to the door, Darla made out Dusty’s outline as she replaced the receiver of the pay phone. Darla was arranging
the balls in the triangle when Dusty reentered, her boots sounding purposeful as they came through the door.

“Someone special?” Darla inquired in what she wanted to be perceived as a knowing way.

“Yeah. She’s someone special.” Dusty had revelation in her voice. “I’ve got a thirteen-year-old daughter at home. She’s got
a friend spending the night.”

Darla paused, surprised at the answer—envious and awestruck.

This woman’s got a daughter. I want one.

This woman is someone’s mother. I want one,
Darla thought to herself in waves of emotion, no words.

I’d like to live inside your belly make your brain my summer home…
Darla recalled the words of the performer from earlier in the evening.

“Wow, she’s a lucky girl.” Darla dropped the eight-ball into place with the slide of the triangle like Shelley had shown her.

“I don’t know if she sees it that way, but thank you.”

“She will someday.” Darla was sure of it.

“Humph.” Dusty responded in a quick burst of air that said
I hope you’re right.

“Now break up those balls in that way that you do and let’s play.” Dusty got three balls in on the break.

“See. Now how did you do that?” Darla made a production out of being impressed and overwhelmed. Tonight had been a night of
two large impressions—almost to the point of revelry. Revelry is far too rare.

“It’s just geometry.” Dusty laughed.

“No, it is not.” Darla had heard this line before but had never begged to differ. “It involves speed and weight and a third
dimension. It’s physics, I tell you. Physics.” Darla let the rubber bottom of her cue stick drop to the floor. The exclamation
point to her declaration.

“You know you’re right.” Dusty paused, their eyes conversing in a language foreign to both of them. “But I guess if you think
too much about all those things instead of just playing and letting your body flow with the game, it can mess you up.”

Onlookers gave up on watching their game and wandered to nether regions. The two players were oblivious. Together they were
a country with a culture, a language, a land all their own.