Arthur could feel his heart in his throat. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
Again, he tried to stand up.
Cheryl’s look of pleading went away and was replaced by an expression he’d seen on Verna’s face. Had seen it only once. About a year ago, he’d made a joke about how pretty her daughter was and maybe little Cheryl would start running around soon. It came out more vulgar than he’d meant it to.
Verna’s face had changed to this, an expression of such rage that it made the hairs on his body stand up. Before he could apologize, she pushed him off the massage table. If he hadn’t bounced onto the bed, he would have hit the floor. As it was, he had to pull himself across the old carpet by his arms to get to his canes. The fact that he was naked added to his humiliation. When he managed to stand, he tried to cover his nakedness, but keeping his balance at the same time was impossible. He made an attempt to grab his boxers but she threw them out the open door.
Completely naked, he got outside, leaned against the house to pull on his boxers, then drove home. It was seven months before he was able to persuade Verna—with flowers, candy, lavish apologies and doubling his payments—to forgive him enough to start the massages again.
Right now, young Cheryl, with her tearstained makeup, was wearing that expression—and it scared Arthur half to death.
“The people in this town think you and my mother have sex for money,” Cheryl said slowly. “You never contradict them because you like that people think you can still do it.”
Arthur sat back down. She was right. He liked being teased about what he did at the Morris house. Young men driving big pickups tugged at the brim of their caps when they saw him. Their tributes made him feel young and whole.
As he looked at Cheryl’s hard eyes, he thought of how his life would change if his secret was told. Pity instead of accolades. “I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I’ll ask.”
She stood up. “Good.” She went into the house.
Minutes later, Arthur was lying naked on the massage table that Henry Lowell had made for Verna. Her hands were glistening with oil as she gouged and dug into his flaccid leg muscles.
“So why’d you come back to Lachlan?” he asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just being friendly, that’s all.”
“You’ve never so much as asked me how my day was, much less about my life.”
“So maybe I’m curious. Is that so unusual?”
“From you, it is.”
Arthur took his time before asking again. “So I’m bored. Tell me your life story. Take my mind off my own problems.”
“I thought you believed only you had problems.”
Arthur gave a sigh. “How about that car for Cheryl? In exchange for a story?”
“The green one?”
“Sure. So tell me a story worth a car.”
“Why not? It’s not like I have a thousand friends in this town. It’s simple, really. In high school all I could think about was getting away from this backwater town. I wanted to go someplace where the muggers didn’t have four feet and teeth.”
“What you got against gators?”
“Are you going to listen or not? So anyway, the day after I graduated from high school, I went to Baltimore. I loved it! Everything was fast and they had snow. I worked as a waitress during the day and went to school at night. I became a legal secretary.”
“Good money?”
“Yes.” She paused. “But then my father died and I returned to Lachlan for the funeral and to get my mother settled in a nursing home. That was the end of my life as I knew it.”
“You look healthy to me.”
“But then, you never believe that there are things worse than your own problems. Turn over.” She waited until he was on his back. “I met a man.”
