Authors: Brock Cole
The Goats (9 page)
“Yes. Yes, I know. You're probably right.”
She thought of what that horrible man Wells had saidâthat Laura and the boy might not mind making them worry a bit. She had been so angry that he would suggest such a thing. Now she hoped it was true. It seemed, finally, fair. Lately she had been willing only to let Laura annoy her. There is not much of an investment in annoyance, and no great return. But terror is something else. You find out exactly how much you love someone when you're terrified.
She leaned back against the headboard of the bed. It was covered in quilted satin. When she touched it with her cheek, it felt cool.
“Do you think,” she asked, “do you think I should try to take the boy back to the city with us?”
“I don't know about that, Mrs. Golden,” said Margo. “I doubt if the camp would be able to surrender custody, just like that.”
“No, of course not.” Maddy knew that Margo was right. There would be rules and procedures that Laura and the boy couldn't appreciate.
“It would probably be best if they were separated, anyway,” Margo continued. “They're feeling very close now, but it's an abnormal situation. They might be
developing a dependency which would interfere with their resocialization later.”
developing a dependency which would interfere with their resocialization later.”
She sounded like a textbook on child psychology that Maddy had once read. Reasonable, and yet somehow wrong. Maddy's own intuition was that if you found someone you liked and trusted, you held on for dear life.
Margo was adjusting her jacket in the motel mirror, getting ready to leave. The phone call seemed to have restored her confidence.
“And really, Mrs. Golden,” she said. “I don't think you'd want responsibility for both of them. You have your job, and well, we don't know what they've been up to. They'll need supervision.”
Maddy didn't answer. She was thinking of the boy's voice. It had been attractive, even compelling. Laura had listened. It might not be as easy to pull them apart as Margo imagined.
FROM WHERE they were squatting among the trees they could see a man loading suitcases into his car. He kept twitching up the cuffs of his dark-blue suit to look at his shoes. He was angry because he was getting mud on them.
“This is really ridiculous, you know,” said the boy. “We're never going to get away with it.”
“Shut up. We're not sleeping in the woods unless we have to. You're sick, anyway.”
That was true. It was just a cold, but it was getting worse. He shouldn't have gone roaming around the cabins the night before. He wiped his nose on his sleeve when he thought she wasn't looking. It was disgusting, but he couldn't go around with snot hanging
out of his nose. He wondered if they could use part of the money that Tiwanda had lent them to buy some Kleenex.
out of his nose. He wondered if they could use part of the money that Tiwanda had lent them to buy some Kleenex.
When the man had finished loading his car, he went back inside the motel room and turned off the light. He appeared again, leaning against the doorjamb and wiping his shoes off with a towel. He wadded the towel up and threw it back in the room and closed the door. He was dressed very neatly to be doing things like that. He got in his car and drove away.
“There. You see?” said the girl. “He didn't stop at the office. It's one of those places where you pay when you check in. You just leave your key in your room when you leave.”
The boy cocked his head thoughtfully. “They always close the door,” he said. “They leave the key inside, but they always close the door.”
“Yeah. Well. The next one?”
The boy gave a little shiver. “Okay,” he said, and started to stand up.
The girl pushed him down again. “You wait here. I'll do it. I look innocent.”
He watched her slide off through the trees. Didn't he look innocent anymore? He thought he must look pretty innocent. Still, she was not as grubby. He sighed and settled back on his haunches among the shadowy green leaves. He felt very content. In no hurry. No hurry at all.
A tiny green bird fluttered close to his head. It knew he was there, but it wasn't afraid. It must be because
he was sitting so quietly. Or maybe he was losing his human smell. That was an interesting idea. He thought if he sat long enough there among the trees he might just become a part of the woods. He would not mind that. He would like simply to sit and watch for a long time. The bird, the green leaves, even the back of the motel. It was all very absorbing.
he was sitting so quietly. Or maybe he was losing his human smell. That was an interesting idea. He thought if he sat long enough there among the trees he might just become a part of the woods. He would not mind that. He would like simply to sit and watch for a long time. The bird, the green leaves, even the back of the motel. It was all very absorbing.
Along the balcony which gave access to the second story of the motel a short fat woman appeared, pushing a laundry cart. She was old, with thin, pinkish hair. Her dress was too short, and she was wearing yellow tennis shoes. They must be careful about her, he thought, and promptly forgot.
Another door on the ground floor opened and a woman and a little girl came out. They walked together toward the passage which led to the front of the complex. The little girl was carrying a Cabbage Patch doll, and her mother was smiling at her.
At the entrance to the passage was a Coke machine and an ice dispenser. They stopped in front of the Coke machine, and the mother held the doll while the little girl stood on tiptoe to put some coins in the slot. Her mother dangled the doll by one leg until the little girl looked at her, and then she cradled it in her arms.
A man came out of their motel room carrying a stroller. He unlocked the rear door of a station wagon and put the stroller inside.
The woman and the little girl were walking back to the car now. The little girl was carrying a bright-red
can of soda. She held it up for her father to see, and he made a face as if he'd never seen anything so wonderful.
can of soda. She held it up for her father to see, and he made a face as if he'd never seen anything so wonderful.
They never looked up toward the woods. They might have seen him if they had looked, but he knew they never would. They didn't care, probably. There might be all kinds of things watching from the woods, but they wouldn't know because they didn't care.
The girl came around the corner of the building. She had put on her pink sweater and was swinging a plastic trash-can liner. He wondered where she had found it and what she was going to do. She walked directly toward the man, who was now putting two suitcases into the car. The boy sniffed, tilted his head back so that his eyes were almost closed, and settled down to watch.
Â
“Mr. Carlson?”
The man closed the tailgate of the station wagon and looked at her blankly.
“Hendricks,” he said.
“Oh. Wrong party, I'm afraid. Are you just leaving? I hope you had a pleasant stay.” The girl stood in the open doorway of their room, smiling as brightly as she could. She smiled at the man and at the woman, who was strapping the little girl into a safety seat in the rear of the car.
“Oh yeah. Very nice,” said the man. “Thanks.”
The girl went into the room. It smelled of cigarette
smoke and damp plaster. She became aware that the man had returned and was standing in the doorway behind her. She emptied the wastepaper basket beside the television set into her plastic bag and then looked at him.
smoke and damp plaster. She became aware that the man had returned and was standing in the doorway behind her. She emptied the wastepaper basket beside the television set into her plastic bag and then looked at him.
“Just checking to see if we forgot anything,” he said apologetically.
“Sure. Have a safe trip.”
“Yeah. Thanks again.”
When he was gone she looked around for the key. She couldn't see it. It was possible, she supposed, that he had left it in the office, but she couldn't think when he might have done that. She went back outside. The man had just started the car. He rolled down the window as she approached. He looked a little annoyed.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Hendricks. Did you forget to leave your key?”
“Clifford!” said the man's wife. She leaned forward so the girl could see her roll her eyes at her husband. The girl tried to smile. She didn't like standing there in the open. She had seen the cleaning lady but didn't know where she was now.
The man was fumbling in his pockets. His seat belt was in the way, and it seemed to take forever. Finally he flushed and passed out through the window a key with a heavy plastic tab.
“Sorry about that,” he said, and winked at her. “I bet you came around just to make sure I didn't forget.”
“That's right, Mr. Hendricks,” said the girl, and winked back. She was proud of doing that. She had never been able to wink before.
“Have a nice day.”
From the woods the boy watched her wave to the couple with the little girl and then go into the room. As she closed the door she looked up into the woods where he was hiding. He couldn't tell whether she had seen him. He stayed where he was until the car had driven out of the parking lot. Then he went quietly down from the woods.
She opened the door as soon as he tapped.
“Come in, come in.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room. “I'm afraid the cleaning lady will see.” Her eyes looked very bright.
“Shall we just grab some blankets and run?” he asked. That had been the original plan. It was what he still wanted to do in a way. He didn't like the motel room. It smelled of other people and felt small and enclosed.
“No. I want to try it. Here.” She pushed a plastic DO NOT DISTURB sign into his hands. “Put this on the door. I have to think a minute.”
She was studying the telephone when he closed the door again. She was holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth and her stomach was sticking out a little. She looked very serious.
“You don't have to do this, you know. We can just run,” he said again.
She grimaced and bounced up and down on her heels.
“Yeah, I know. It probably won't work anyway, but I want to try. Don't look at me. Go stand someplace else.”
He turned away. The couple had left the room in a mess. Did everyone do that? Both beds had been torn up, and a wet towel was hanging on one of the chairs.
He went into the bathroom. It was still warm and steamy. He blew his nose with some tissue and dropped the tissue in the toilet.
The mirror over the sink was cloudy with steam, and he wiped it off and looked at himself. His hair was very bushy and curling down around his ears. There was a small sticky green leaf caught in it. That pleased him and he left it where it was. He wished he didn't have to wear glasses. He took them off and smiled at the foggy reflection. Perhaps if he stayed in the woods long enough, his eyes would get better. His ophthalmologist had told him that they would just get worse and worse until he was about twenty, but perhaps he didn't know about the woods.
When he heard the girl pick up the telephone, he leaned his head against the doorjamb and listened.
“This is Mrs. Hendricks in room 47,” she said with authority. “We would like to stay on for another night. Is that possible? Yes. Our car broke down. My husband has to leave it at the garage.”
The boy felt himself going jittery. She was talking in her regular voice, not trying to make it deep or anything. This is never going to work, he thought. He went over to one of the beds and started freeing one of the blankets from the tangle. They would have to run for it, after all.
“Yes,” she was saying. “That would be fine. Goodbye. Thank you very much.”
He started to turn around, but she was already on top of him, knocking him over on the bed.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
She grabbed his wrists and tried to pin his arms back.
“Beating you up,” she said through her teeth.
He tried to push her off, but she was too strong and heavy. He was surprised at how strong she was.
“Cut it out. You're making me cough. What did they say, anyway?” He could hardly talk, she was squishing him so.
“âJust stop by the office before you leave.'”
He was so astounded that he stopped struggling. “Really? Is that really what they said?”
“Really. I'm brilliant, don't you think?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
Her face was close to his. He could smell her breath. It didn't smell like flowers or anything familiar. It was a new kind of smell, and it was both pleasant and alarming. He decided he liked it. He
was surprised, too, at how warm she was. When you don't touch people very often you forget that they are really warm.
was surprised, too, at how warm she was. When you don't touch people very often you forget that they are really warm.
“You're brilliant.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and then she rolled off him. “We better get out of here before the cleaning lady shows up,” she said.
She was right, but neither of them felt like moving.
“Where did you get the plastic bag?” he asked after a moment, staring at the ceiling.
“Out of a trash can. I thought I would look like a cleaning lady.”
He thought of the old woman with pink hair and smiled.
“I wonder if she'll change the sheets,” he said. “I mean the real cleaning lady.”
He wished he hadn't said that, because the girl sat up abruptly, wrinkling her nose at the bedclothes with distaste.
“Boy, I hope so. Isn't she supposed to? Even if you stay more than one day?”
“I don't know. We could always sleep in the kid's bed. That wouldn't be so bad.”
“How would you know? Which one was hers, I mean.”
“Smell them, I guess.”
“Oh, my God. You are really very very gross. Come on. Let's get out of here. If we don't leave she won't even get a chance to change the sheets.”
At the door the boy paused, stuffing the key with its lumpy tag into his pocket and looking around the darkened room.
“Have you got your bag?” he asked.
The girl showed him the paper bag with her underwear and toothbrush. The bag was getting soft and fuzzy from being carried around.
“Let's go,” she said. “What's wrong?”
“I don't know. I keep thinking that we're forgetting something.”
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