Jim Thompson - Pop. 1280

I had to pass Myra's bedroom on the way downstairs, and she had her door open to catch the breeze, and without realizing that I was doing it, I stopped and looked in. Then I went in and looked at her some more. And then leased toward the bed on tippy-toe and stood looking down at her, kind of licking my lips and feeling itchy.

I'll tell you something about me. I'll tell you for true. That's one thing I never had no shortage of. I was hardly out of my shift-just a barefooted kid with my first pair of boughten britches-when the gals started flinging it at me. And the older I got, the more of 'em there were. I'd say to myself sometimes, "Nick," I'd say, "Nick Corey, you'd better do something about these gals. You better start carrying you a switch and whip 'em off of you, or they'll do you to death." But I never did do nothing like that, because I just never could bear to hurt a gal. A gal cries at me a little, and right away I'm giving in to her.

Well, though, to get back to the subject, I never had no shortage of women and they were all real generous with me. Which maybe don't seem to add up, the way! was staring at my wife, Myra. Licking my lips and feeling itchy all over. Because Myra was quite a bit older than I was and she looked every bit as mean as she was. And believe me, she was one danged mean woman. But the way it is with me, I'm kind of singleminded, I get to thinking about something, and I can't think of anything else. And maybe I wasn't suffering any shortage, but you know how that is. I mean, it's kind of like eating popcorn. The more you have the more you want.

She didn't have a nightdress on, it being summer, and she'd kicked the sheet off. And she was kind of lying on her stomach, so that I couldn't see her face, which made her look a lot better.

So I stood there, staring and steaming and itching, and finally I couldn't stand it no longer and I started unbuttoning my shirt. "After all, Nick," I says to myself, "after all, Nick Corey, this here woman is your wife, and you got certain rights."

Well, I guess you know what happened. Or I guess you don't know either. Because you don't know Myra, which makes you about as lucky as a person can get. Anyways, she turned over on her back all of a sudden, and opened her eyes.

"And just what," she said, "do you think you're doing?"

I told her I was getting ready to take a trip over to the county where Ken Lacey was sheriff. I'd probably be gone until late that night,! said, and we'd probably get real lonesome for each other, so maybe we ought to get together first.

"Huh!" she said, almost spitting the word at me. "Do you think I'd want you, even if I was of a mind to have relations with a man?"

"Well," I said. "I kind of thought maybe you might. I mean, I kind of hoped so. I mean, after all, why not?"

"Because I can hardly stand the sight of you, that's why! Because you're stupid!"

"Well," I said. "I ain't sure I can agree with you, Myra. I mean, I ain't saying you're wrong but I ain't saying you're right, either. Anyways, even if I am stupid, you can't hardly fault me for it. They's lots of stupid people in the world."

"You're not only stupid but you're spineless," she said. "You're about the poorest excuse for nothing I ever laid eyes on!"

"Well, looky," I said. "If you feel that way, why for did you marry me?"

"Listen to him! Listen to the beast!" she said. "As if he didn't know why! As if he didn't know that I had to marry him after he raped me!"

Well, that made me kind of sore, you know. She was always saying I'd raped her, and it always made me kind of sore. I couldn't really argue about her saying! was stupid and spineless, because! probably ain't real smart-who wants a smart sheriff?-and I figure it's a lot nicer to turn your back on trouble than it is to look at it. I mean, what the heck, we all got trouble enough of our own without butting in on other people's.

But when she said I was a rapist, that was something else. I mean, there just wasn't a word of truth in it. Because it just didn't make sense.

Why for would a fella like me rape a woman, when he had so many generous gals chasing him?

"Well, I'll tell you about this rape business," I said, getting kind of red in the face as I rebuttoned my shirt. "I ain't saying you're a liar, because that wouldn't be polite. But I'll tell you this, ma'am. If! loved liars, I'd hug you to death."

Well, that really started her off. She started blubbering and bawling like a calf in a hail storm. And of course that woke up her half-witted brother, Lennie. So he came rushing in, blubbering and rolling his eyes and slobbering all over his chin.

"What you done to Myra?" he says, spraying spit for about twenty feet. "What you gone an' done to her, Nick?"

I didn't say anything, being busy dodging the spit. He went stumbling over to Myra, and she took him into her arms, glaring at me.

"You beast! Now look what you've done!"

I said, what the heck, I hadn't done nothing. Far as I could see, Lennie was pretty near always bawling and slobbering. "About the only time he ain't," I said, "is when he's sneaking around town, peeking into some woman's window."