Cuts (20 page)

FORTY-THREE

THE CALL

The ringing became part of Janet’s dream.

Excuse me while I get the phone, she said to the man in her dream.

Not until we’re done, he said, and selected a long-bladed scalpel from a tray beside the operating table.

No! Janet cried out. You
can’t
take my baby out yet. It’s not nine months and by then the phone won’t be ringing anymore.

If you don’t want me to take it out, he said, how about if I stick this
in?

NO!!!

Janet suddenly woke up, gasping and drenched with sweat, and found herself in bed. Though the window curtains were open, the
room was gloomy with gray light.

The phone jangled, making her flinch.

My God, Janet thought, it
is
ringing!

She rolled onto her side. As she reached out, her hand knocked a drinking glass off the nightstand.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Is this Janet Arthur?”

“Yes.” She suddenly felt alert, excited.

“I’m Hazel Green from the Grand Beach Unified School District offices. Will you be available for substituting today?”

“I sure will!”

Sitting up, Janet turned on the lamp. She took a note pad from the table.

“The classes we’d like you to take will be Mrs. Bonner’s eleventh- and twelfth-grade English.”

“Fine.”

“Do you know how to get to the high school?”

“Yes. I’ve driven past it. I know right where it is.”

“Very good. You’ll need to report to the high school’s main office before eight o’clock this morning to pick up your schedule
and lesson plans.”

“I’ll be there.”

“They’ll be expecting you. Good-bye, now.”

“Good-bye,” she said. “Thank you for calling.”

She hung up the phone, leaped off the bed, clapped her hands together once so hard they hurt, and yelled, “A-WWW- RIGHT, LET’S
HEAR IT FOR BIG JANET!!!
WHOO-EEE!!! YESSSS!!!
”

Then she remembered Dave. Tonight, she had to see him. Otherwise, he would probably cause more trouble—maybe put the make
on Meg again…

She sank back down on the edge of the bed and muttered, “Terrific.”

Suddenly, she had an urge to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over her head and stay there.

Can’t do that, she told herself. Gotta get cleaned up and ready to go.

My first substituting job!

High school, eleventh- and twelfth-grade English.

They might be reading someone really good.

Feeling better, she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

FORTY-FOUR

ALBERT PLANS AHEAD

There was a pool of warmth in the middle of the bed. Albert curled inside it. Whenever he moved, his body touched its cold
shore. Trying to stay inside the warmth started to make him feel cramped, however, so he finally gave up. He rolled through
a plain of cold sheets and got out of bed.

He rushed to the bathroom, leaned over the tub and turned on the hot-water faucet. The water came out cold. While he waited
for it to warm up, he urinated.

When the water was hot, he stoppered the drain. He stepped into the tub, adjusted the heat and stood as the water climbed
his ankles. Then he stretched. The muscles of his legs and back and shoulders and neck were stiff and it was a luxury to stretch
them. When he was finished, he sat in the hot water. He let it rise higher and higher. Then he turned off the faucets.

He lay back until only his knees and head remained above the surface. The heat of the water seemed to penetrate his skin,
softening his muscles until he felt that he would never be able to move again.

But he would have to move. And soon.

He had taken a big chance, coming to a motel like this. What if the gal at the front desk had recognized him from the news
drawings or photos?

Well, she hadn’t done that or the cops would’ve grabbed him by now.

But he’d better not try this again. From now on, he should only stay at houses. Taking houses seemed to work fine.

Even
that’s
risky, he reminded himself.

He’d been lucky back at Charlene’s place that nobody from her school or from her father’s store…or even from her mother’s
bridge group…had gotten too curious. Three people can’t just drop out of their lives for very long without someone noticing.

Especially not on
weekdays
, Albert thought. Too much goes on during the week.

Next time, he should take over a house on a Friday night. That way, he could spend a couple of days without having to worry
about anyone being missed from a job or school.

Today’s
Friday!

And Albert knew exactly which house to hit.

He even had a key.

May Beth had talked about living with her mother. Maybe the mother would be there. If she looked half as good as May Beth,
he might end up having a pretty good time with her.

Albert unwrapped a slim bar of soap and began to wash his face.

FORTY-FIVE

GOING HOME

“Blessed Virgin College. May I help you?”

“Rhonda, this is Lester.”

“You still under the weather?” Her voice sounded sympathetic.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, I’ll give Sister Martha a ring when she arrives, and let her know.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“You take care of yourself and get well, Lester.”

“Okay. Thanks again. Good-bye.”

He looked at the alarm clock beside Emily Jean’s bed. Almost s even-thirty. Too early to leave.

So he went down the hall to the bathroom and took a shower. He stayed under the hot spray for a long time. When he was done,
he got dressed and went downstairs. He made coffee. While it percolated, he fried bacon and eggs. He ate in the living room, watching
a cartoon show on the television.

Shortly before nine, he went out to his car.

A cramp began twisting his bowels as he drove toward home.

What if Helen’s there?

She won’t be.

Before entering his house, he checked the garage. Empty. Some of the pain went away, but not all of it.

Fairly certain that Helen was at school, he entered the house. He took two large suitcases from a storage closet. They should
hold enough to keep him going for a week or two until he could find an apartment.

Maybe he wouldn’t
need
an apartment.

Maybe he could stay on at Emily Jean’s house.

Would she let me?

Maybe. He suspected that she had fallen in love with him.

One gal’s trash is another gal’s treasure.

He carried the suitcases into the bedroom. Instead of starting to pack them, he dropped them to the floor and sat on the edge
of the bed.

Staring at the wall, he wondered whether he really wanted to live with Emily Jean.

Even if she
does
love me, I’d be stuck with someone who’s twice my age…and a little weird.

Very
weird, that stuff about pretending to be May Beth.

May Beth!

If I
do
stay at their house, May Beth will probably be there, too.

If she lives.

If she lives, she’ll come back and live at home. It’ll be the three of us…

Lester imagined himself stretched out on a bed with both of them, the mother and daughter, both naked and slim and eager,
both kissing him, stroking him, sucking him, but one so much younger and prettier and firmer and smoother, the other so much
more desperate and strange.

It’ll never happen.

When May Beth comes home, he thought, I’ll get tossed out.

Emily Jean isn’t about to let me live in the same house with her main
rival
.

Only way I get to stay on with Emily Jean is if the girl
doesn’t make it.

I sure don’t want that to happen, he told himself. It’d be so devastating to Emily…

And I’d lose any chance of…

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? I don’t even know the
girl. She probably wouldn’t even LIKE me, much less…

If she dies, Lester thought, maybe I won’t even
want
Emily Jean anymore.

What’s
that
all about?

He didn’t want to think about it.

He suddenly wanted to flop on the bed and not get up.

Not get up at all.

But he would
have
to get up sooner or later. If he stayed till mid-afternoon, Helen would probably come home.

He didn’t want to face her.

He didn’t want to face anyone.

I ought to do everyone a favor and blow my brains out, he thought.

Helen hates my guts. Emily Jean’s a pathetic loser. I don’t stand a chance with May Beth. I’ll never stand a chance with
any
woman that
I
want.

Was it Groucho?

I wouldn’t want to be in any club that’ll take me as a member.

Something like that, Lester thought.

Story of my life.

In the second drawer of his dresser, he found his Ruger .22-caliber revolver. He unsnapped the guard strap and slid it free
of its holster.

FORTY-SIX

THE LOUNGE

Janet dropped a dime into the vending machine in the faculty lounge. Stepping back, she watched a cardboard cup drop into
place. When the machine stopped its loud humming, she bent down and lifted out the cup. The coffee inside was muddy brown.
She wrinkled her nose.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” said a slim, striking woman who was sitting on the couch.

“It does look sort of disgusting.”

“The hot chocolate is much better,” the woman told her. “It’s five cents more than the coffee, but worth every penny.”

“What’ve I got to lose?” Janet dumped her coffee into the sink, found three nickles in her purse, and turned the machine’s
selection knob to Hot Chocolate. She inserted her nickles and waited.

“Is this your first time at Grand Beach High?” the woman asked.

“It’s my first time anywhere.”

“Must be quite an adventure for you, then. You have Emily Jean’s classes, don’t you?”

She picked up the cup. The hot chocolate looked fine. “Is that Mrs. Bonner?”

The woman nodded and fit a cigarette into the end of a long, silver holder. “She and I are usually the only ones in here now.
Everyone else with fourth-period preparation makes a beeline for the mixed lounge, which is an absolute madhouse.” She lit
her cigarette.

“Mixed lounge?” Janet asked and sat in an armchair.

“We have a grand total of three faculty lounges at this establishment. The men’s lounge, which is the lair of the male chauvinist
contingent. Venture in there at your own risk. Abandon all hope. Then there’s the mixed lounge, where chaos reigns. Finally,
the women’s lounge, as blissful as the eye of a hurricane. That’s us.” She blew out a stream of smoke and squinted as if inspecting
it. “By the way, I’m Dale.”

“I’m Janet.”

“Is English your field, or have they placed you in an alien subject? They seem to have a preference for that, you know.”

“I’m an English major.” Janet decided not to mention her master’s degree. She tasted the hot chocolate. “Mmm. You were right
about this.”

“Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s great.”

“I’d have one with you, but I can’t afford the calories.”

Janet stared at her chocolate. If Dale, as slinky as a
Vogue
model, couldn’t afford the calories, then Janet shouldn’t. She took another sip, anyway.

“As it is,” Dale said, “I’ll be a rather plump Ophelia.”

“A plump what?”

“Oh, I’m dressing up as Ophelia for the faculty Halloween party tonight. Ophelia of
Hamlet
? My husband, who’s much more literary than I am, insisted on dressing as the ghost of
King
Hamlet. He gave me a choice of Ophelia or Yorick.”

“I think I knew him.”

“Didn’t everyone? At any rate, I opted for Ophelia.”

“Are you going mad or sane?”

“Oh, mad, of course. Mad as a hatter.”

“A wise decision,” Janet said, nodding sagely and smiling. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, we generally do have memorable parties. Jim Harrison—the principal—came to last year’s party as a geek. You wouldn’t
believe the uproar he caused. He had a plastic garbage bag containing several plucked chickens. Deceased chickens.”

“Oh, dear.”

“At intervals throughout the night, he would pull a chicken out of the bag and bite off its head.”

“My God.”

“It was really quite zany. And ghastly. All the men, of course, thought this was the greatest thing ever. Actually bit their
heads right off! Jim’s a lovable man, but coarse…terribly coarse.” Dale puffed her cigarette and shook her head. “Poor
Emily Jean was so repulsed by his act that she tossed her cookies—retched into Ian’s swim ming pool. She was mortified, though
Ian took it remarkably well. Nothing fazes Ian.” She gazed at her smoke and grinned with one side of her mouth. “I suppose
Emily Jean won’t be making it to tonight’s festivities.”

“Suppose not,” Janet said.

“In fact, now that I think about it, maybe she called in sick today as an excuse
not
to attend tonight’s party. She was miserably embarrassed about last year’s fiasco. On second thought, she
is
on the social committee. We had a planning party a couple of weeks ago and she seemed
very
enthusiastic about attending. So I suppose she
must
be indisposed. Otherwise, she wouldn’t miss it. She hasn’t missed a faculty party in years. They
are
fabulous parties.”

“They do sound memorable,” Janet said.

They sound
awful
, she thought.

“The great trick is to avoid being the person remembered.” “I should think so.”

“If you don’t have any plans for tonight, why don’t you come to this one?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Well, then, you definitely shouldn’t pass up this opportunity. We have several men on the faculty who would be delighted
to meet you.”

“I’m not sure I want to meet
them
.”

“Oh, they’re not
all
chauvinists, geeks and cretins. Several of them are quite delightful.”

“I’m afraid I already have some other plans for tonight, but…”

But I don’t want to see Dave!

But if I don’t show up, he’ll go after Meg again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’d feel out of place, just being a substitute and not knowing anyone and…”

“No problem. Everyone loves to see a new face, especially a pretty one. You’d be welcomed with open arms— at the very least.” She twisted her cigarette out of its holder and mashed it into a wobbly ashtray that looked as if it
had been made by a student in metal-craft class. “What do you say?”

“Well, maybe. I suppose I could cancel my other plans…”

“Wonderful! The social committee provides soft drinks, ice and an assortment of edible goodies. But if you prefer the hard
stuff—as most of us do, it’s B.Y.O.B. The party starts at eight at my place. Hang on a second and I’ll find you a copy ofmymap. You’ll
have a marvelous time, just wait and see.”

“Is it a costume party?” Janet asked.

“Costumes are optional. But it’s always fun to dress up, isn’t it? And wonderful to be someone else if only for a night.”