I spit on your graves (8 page)

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Authors: 1920-1959 Boris Vian

Tags: #Racism, #Revenge, #Women, #Murder, #African Americans

BOOK: I spit on your graves
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I Spit on Your Graves

the place.

"Come on, Lee," he said. "This is it."

"I'm coming."

There was a rosebush in front of the house, just one, but its perfume was enough to mitigate the unpleasantness of the garbage that was lying about on all sides. Dex hopped up the two steps leading into the house on the side. A fat colored woman answered when he rang. She turned around without a word and Dex followed. I shut the door behind me.

On the first floor she stood aside to let us pass. We went into a little room with a couch, a bottle and a couple of glasses, and two little girls about eleven or twelve years old. One of them was a red-head, chubby and very freckled. The other a colored girl, a little . older than the other, it seemed to me.

They were sitting very properly on the couch, both dressed in a blouse and a very short skirt.

"Here are some gentlemen who will give you some money," said the colored woman. "Be very nice to them."

She shut the door, leaving us alone. I looked at Dexter.

"Take your clothes off, Lee," he said, "it's very hot in here."

He turned to the red-head.

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"Come and help me, Jo."

"My name's Polly," the child said. "Are you going to give me some dollars?"

"Sure, sure," Dex said.

He took a crumpled ten out of his pocket and gave it to the girl.

"Come and help me take my pants off."

I hadn't even moved. I watched the red-head get up. She must have been a little bit over twelve years old. Her can was nicely rounded under her too short skirt. I knew that Dex was looking at me.

"I'll take the red-head," he said.

"You know that they're jail bait, don't you?"

"Maybe it's the dark meat that's bothering you!" he said harshly.

So that's what he was driving at. He was still looking at me, with his damn lock of hair hanging down over his eye. He was just waiting for me to say or do something. I think I didn't show anything. The two kids just sat there, a bit terrified.

"Come on, Polly," Dex finally said. "How about a little drink."

"No please, thank you,' she said. "I can help you without drinking."

In less than a minute he had his clothes off and had taken the child on his knees and

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lifted up her skirt. His face had become flushed, and he was breathing harder.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" she said.

"You keep quiet," Dexter repHed, "Or you don't get any money."

He pushed his hands between her legs and she began to cry.

"Shut up!" he cried, "Or I'll make Anna beat you."

He turned his head toward me. I still hadn't moved.

"Is it the dark meat that's bothering you," he said again. "Would you rather have this one?"

"No, it's alright this way,' I said.

I looked at the other girl. She was scratching her head, quite indifferent to what was going on. Her body had already taken the shape of a woman.

"Come over here," I said to her.

"You can let yourself go, Lee. They're clean," he said to me. Then, to the girl: "You stop that whimpering!"

Polly stopped crying and just sniffled for a while.

"You're too big for me," she said, "That hurts!"

"You keep quiet," Dex said, "And I'll -81-

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give you another five dollars."

He was panting like a dog on a hot day. He grabbed her by the thighs and moved rhythmically on the chair.

Polly's tears rolled down without a sound. The little colored girl looked at me.

"Take your clothes off," I said to her, "and lie down on the couch."

I took my jacket off, and loosened my belt. She uttered a slight cry when I went into her. She was as hot as an oven.

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XI

Saturday came, and I hadn't seen Dexter again all week. I decided to take my Nash and go as far as his place with it. If he was going too, I'd leave it in his garage. Otherwise I'd use my own car.

He was as sick as a dog when I left him that evening. He must have been a lot drunker than I thought, cause he started pulling some funny tricks. Little Polly would probably always have a scar on her left breast because the hound had gotten it into his head to bite a chunk out of her. He thought his money would be able to calm her down, but when the colored woman Anna ran back in, she threatened to never let him come again. I was sure it wasn't the first time he'd come to that place. He didn't want to let Polly go-I think the smell of her freckled skin had a special effect on him. Anna put a sort of bandage on her, and gave her a sleeping pill, but she had to leave her with Dex, who tongued her from top to bottom, uttering some strange sounds from his throat.

I could guess what he felt like, since, as far as I was concerned, I could hardly get myself to get out of that little black girl. Still, I tried not to hurt her in any way, and she didn't

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complain even once. She just closed her eyes.

That was why I wondered whether Dexter would be back in shape by Saturday for the trip to the Asquiths. I myself was not quite myself when I got up after that night. I went to Ricardo's to recover: at nine in the morning he served me a double Zombie and that's enough to put anybody back in shape. I'd never done much drinking before I came to Buckton, and I now realized what a mistake that had been. All you've got to do is drink enough, - there's nothing that'll straighten out your head as well as that. That morning everything went fine, and when I stopped in front of Dex's house, I was in rare form.

Contrary to my expectations, he was all ready for me, freshly shaven, dressed in a light gabardine suit, and a swank, sharpy shirt.

"Did you eat yet, Lee? I hate stopping on the road, so I'd prefer to get that over with now."

In some ways. Dexter was as simple, clear and innocent as a kid. But maybe a kid who knew too much for his years. His eyes showed it.

"I wouldn't mind some ham and eggs, and maybe some bread and jam," I replied.

The butler served me well. I hate to have a man stick his hands on everything I eat,

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but it seemed quite natural to Dexter.

We left right after I'd eaten. I carried my things from the Nash to the Packard, and Dexter got in on the right.

"You drive, Lee. That's a good idea."

He gave me a side glance. That was his only reference to that night. The rest of the way he was in excellent good humor and told me a lot of stories about Mr. and Mrs. Asquith, a fine pair of crooks who had inherited a lot of money, which is alright, but they used it to exploit people whose only crime is that they have a different color skin than theirs. They owned a flock of sugar-cane plantations in the West Indies and, according to Dex, all they ever drank in their place was rum.

"That's as good as Ricardo's Zombies any day, Lee."

"Well then I'll have no kick to make," I replied.

And I pressed even harder on the gas pedal.

It didn't take that car much more than an hour to make the hundred miles to Prixville, and Dexter directed me once we got there. It was a little town, not as big as Buckton, but the houses were swankier and their grounds bigger. There are towns like that, where everybody seems to be in the upper

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brackets.

The big gate to the grounds was open and I went up the driveway to the garage in second, but with no complaint from the motor as when Dex was driving. I pulled the Clipper in behind two other cars.

"Some of the other customers are here already," I said.

"No," Dex informed me. "They belong to the Asquiths. I think we're the first ones. Besides us there'll just be some local people. They take turns inviting each other, because they get bored to death in their own houses. They try to get away from them as much as possible."

"Yeah," I said dryly, "they must have a rough time."

He laughed and got out. We both grabbed our bags and turned around to find ourselves face to face with Jean Asquith. She was carrying a tennis racket. She had on white shorts and also an azure blue pullover which I guess she'd put on after her last set. It was a very tight fit and she stuck out to a startling degree.

"Oh, so here you are," she said.

She seemed to be delighted to see us.

"Come on and have some refresments."

I looked at Dex, and he looked at me,

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and we both nodded approvingly in concert.

"Where's Lou?" Dex asked.

"She went up already. She's got to change."

"Oh," I said, suspiciously. "You dress for bridge here?"

Jean burst into laughter.

"I meant she had to change shorts. You can go put on something more comfortable than that and then come down again. I'll have somebody show you to your rooms."

"I hope you're going to change shorts too," I kidded her. You must have those on for at least an hour."

She gave me a swift cut across my fingers with the racket.

"I don't sweat like her!" Jean asserted. . "I'm too old for that."

"And I suppose you lost the match, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh!"

She laughed again. She knew she looked good when she laughed.

"In that case," said Dex, "Maybe I can take a chance and ask you to play a set with me. Not right away, of course. Tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing," Jean said.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I think she

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would have been gladder if it were me.

"O.K.," I said. "If there are two courts, I'll play a set with Lou and the two losers will take each other on. Make sure you lose, and then we'll be able to play together."

"O.K.," Jean said.

"Well," Dex concluded, "If everybody is going to cheat, I'm sure to lose."

We all broke into a laugh. It wasn't funny; but the situation had become forced, and it had to be smoothed out. Dex and I then followed Jean to the house, where a colored chambermaid, very slender and with a little starched white bonnet took us over.

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I Spit on Your Graves

XII

I changed up in my room, and then went down to Dex and the others. There were two other fellows and two girls, evenly paired off, and Jean was playing bridge with one of the girls and the two boys. Lou was there too. I left the other girl to Dex and I turned the radio on to find a bit of dance-music. I got a Stan Kenton program and left it there. It was better than nothing. Lou had used a new perfume, one I liked better than that of the other time, but I wanted to tease her.

"New perfume, Lou?"

"Yes. Don't like it?"

"It's all right. But I suppose you know that that just isn't done."

"What?"

"You're not supposed to change perfumes. A true lady will always remain faithful to one perfume."

"Where'd you learn that?"

"Oh, everybody knows that. It's an old French rule."

"But we aren't in France."

"Then why do you use French pefume?"

"Because they're the best."

"Of course, but if you follow one rule,

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you've got to follow them all."

"Well, now, will you please inform me, Mr. Lee Anderson, just where you dug up all that twaddle?"

"Oh, I learned that during my formal education."

"What college did you go to?"

"None that you're acquainted with."

"Such as..."

"I studied in England and in Ireland, before coming back to the States."

"Why do you keep that job of yours? You could earn more money."

"I earn enough for what I want to do," I said.

"Tell me about your family."

"I had two brothers."

"And..."

"The younger died. In an accident."

"And the other."

"He's still living. He's in New York."

"I'd like to know him," she said.

She seemed to have lost the coldness she had displayed at Dexter's place and at Jicky's, and she also seemed to have forgotten what I'd done to her then.

"I'd rather you didn't know him," I said.

And I really meant it. I was wrong however, in thinking that she had forgotten :

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"You've got a funny bunch of friends," she said, suddenly changing the subject.

We were still dancing since there was hardly any break between numbers. I avoided answering her.

"What did you do to Jean then," she asked. "She's completely changed."

"I didn't do anything to her. I just helped sober her up. In a special way I know."

"I can't make up my mind whether you're kidding me or not. It's hard to tell, with you."

"Oh, but I assure you I'm not hiding anything."

It was her turn not to say anything and for several minutes she just concentrated on dancing. She was completely relaxed in my arms, and didn't seem to be thinking about anything.

"I wish I had been there," she finally said.

"Too bad you weren't," I said. "You'd be quite calm now."

Just saying that brought a warm flush behind my ears. I thought of Jean's body. Have both of them and then wipe them both out together, after having told them. That was too much to ask for.

"I don't think you really mean what you

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say."

"I don't know what to say to make you believe I mean it."

She protested vigorously, called me a pedant and said I sounded like a Viennese psychiatrist. That was a bit too much.

"I mean," I explained, "just at what moments do you think I am telling the truth."

"I like it best when you say nothing."

"And when I do nothing too?"

I held her a bit closer to me. She must have realized what I meant, for she lowered her eyes. But I wasn't going to give up that easy. Besides, she said :

"That depends on just what you do."

"You don't approve of everything I do?"

"I don't think it's at all nice if you do it to everybody."

I thought I must be getting there. She was almost ripe. A little bit more effort. Yet I wanted to make sure.

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