Tenth of December Read Free Page A

she’d be. He’d had her in mind since the baptism of what’s-his-name. Sergei’s kid. At the Russian church. She’d been standing in her yard, her dad or some such taking her picture.
    He’d been like, Hello, Betty.
    Kenny had been like, Little young, bro.
    He’d been like, For you, grandpa.
    When you studied history, the history of cultures, you saw your own individual time as hidebound. There were various theories of acquiescence. In Bible days a king might ride through a field and go: That one. And she would be brought unto him. And they would duly be betrothed and if she gave birth unto a son, super, bring out the streamers, she was a keeper. Was she, that first night, digging it? Probably not. Was she shaking like a leaf? Didn’t matter. What matteredwas offspring and the furtherance of the lineage. Plus the exaltation of the king, which resulted in righteous kingly power.
    Here was the creek.
    He marched her through.
    The following bullet points remained in the decision matrix: take to side van door, shove in, follow in, tape wrists/mouth, hook to chain, make speech. He had the speech down cold. Had practiced it both in his head and on the recorder: Calm your heart, darling, I know you’re scared because you don’t know me yet and didn’t expect this today but give me a chance and you will see we will fly high. See I am putting the knife right over here and I don’t expect I’ll have to use it, right?
    If she wouldn’t get in the van, punch hard in gut. Then pick up, carry to side van door, throw in, tape wrists/mouth, hook to chain, make speech, etc., etc.
    Stop, pause, he said.
    Gal stopped.
    Fucksake. Side door of the van was locked. How undisciplined was that. Ensuring that the door was unlocked was clearly indicated on the pre-mission matrix. Melvin appeared in his mind. On Melvin’s face was the look of hot disappointment that had always preceded an ass whooping, which had always preceded the other thing. Put up your hands, Melvin said, defend yourself.
    True, true. Little error there. Should have double-checked the pre-mission matrix.
    No biggie.
    Joy not fear.
    Melvin was dead fifteen years. Mom dead twelve.
    Little bitch was turned around now, looking back at the house. That willfulness wouldn’t stand. That was going to get nipped in the bud. He’d have to remember to hurt her early, establish a baseline.
    Turn the fuck around, he said.
    She turned around.
    He unlocked the door, swung it open. Moment of truth. If she got in, let him use the tape, they were home free. He’d picked out a place in Sackett, big-ass cornfield, dirt road leading in. If fuckwise it went good they’d pick up the freeway from there. Basically steal the van. It was Kenny’s van. He’d borrowed it for the day. Screw Kenny. Kenny had once called him stupid. Too bad, Kenny, that remark just cost you one van. If fuckwise it went bad, she didn’t properly arouse him, he’d abort the activity, truncate the subject, heave the thing out, clean van as necessary, go buy corn, return van to Kenny, say, Hey, bro, here’s a shitload of corn, thanks for the van, I never could’ve bought a suitable quantity of corn in my car. Then lay low, watch the papers like he’d done with the nonarousing redhead out in—
    Gal gave him an imploring look, like, Please don’t.
    Was this a good time? To give her one in the gut, knock the wind out of her sails?
    It was.
    He did.

    The geode was beautiful. What a beautiful geode. What made it beautiful? What were the principal characteristics of a beautiful geode? Come on, think. Come on, concentrate.
    She’ll recover in time, Beloved Only.
    None of our affair, Scout.
    We’re amazed by your good judgment, Beloved Only.
    Dimly he noted that Alison had been punched. Eyes on the geode, he heard the little oof .
    His heart dropped at the thought of what he was letting happen. They’d used goldfish snacks as coins. They’d made bridges out of rocks. Down by the creek. Back in the day. Oh God.