Joe couldn't believe his good fortune. Here was a luscious, soft, willing girl all his own -- every young man's dream. And yet, something did not feel quite right. Forget about it. You're imagining things. Why shouldn't she love you? Nothing wrong with you. Relax. Enjoy it. And enjoy it he did, night after night, sometimes in the afternoon, down by the railroad trestle, on the riverbank, in the back seat of his car, in the soft grass under the big oak tree.
But afterwards, he always felt empty. With Mary, he had wanted to empty himself, all of himself, into her. With Demondra, he just felt empty.
Joe's mother knew something was wrong. She was dying to question Joe about it, but uncharacteristically held back.
Joe had to think. He went to the place he always went when he needed to clear away the dust; make his soul clean. He went to his grandfather's little fish pond.
He drove far out into the country and turned off at the dirt road just past the old grocery store, now converted into a modern gas station/convenience store. After a big field of cotton came a large stand of corn. Joe turned into the narrow dirt track with two ruts and grass growing in between. He drove through the rickety gate and around the field into the clump of trees where the fields end and the atmosphere is cooler and darker. Trees, bushes all around; then up a slight rise to the opening with the turnaround and room to park. The land slopes gently down from the parking area to the pond. Joe went and sat on the log that was their fishing bench.
When you throw your cork into the water, circles start small and get bigger, bigger. The summer haze, the bright reflection of the sun off the water makes your eyelids heavy. "Gonna work them finny tribe, old Good Boy," grandpa would tell him. Joe would daydream and watch islets of pond moss float by. Grandpa knew everything about fishing and everything else that was important. Grandpa would know what to do now. Joe tried to clear his mind and float back to the days with Grandpa. But now the haze was in his mind.
Joe finally gave up and went back home. He went to his room. It was no good there, either. He knew what he had to do. He had to see her.
Joe found himself knocking on the door to Polly's house. She opened.
"I came to see Mary," Joe said.
"Mary, lover boy is here," Polly called.
"Do you mind if I see her alone?" Joe asked.
"Sure. Gotta go to work anyway. SOMEbody has to earn the bread." Polly left.
A bedraggled-looking Mary came to the door. "What do you want?" she asked.
"I need to see you. Need to talk to you."
"What is there to say?"
"I don't know. I just had to see you."
"Well, come on in."
Joe came in and sat down on the couch. Mary sat down on the chair opposite. After a long silence, Mary said, "Well, what is it?"
"I don't know where to start. I...she... she just appeared."
"I don't want to talk about her," Mary said.
"I don't know what came over me. I just feel empty."
"You've got everything you want, seems to me."
"But I don't. I...I want you."
"You had me. We had each other. Remember? You're the one who left."
"I know. I know."
"You didn't just want me. You want sex. You wonder why you can't have me. You think about all the other men who have had me -- all my Mom's 'friends.' You wonder why you can't have me like they did. Is that what you want? Have me like they had me?"
Mary suddenly jumped out of her chair and threw off her nightgown. She stood there naked, staring at him through streaming eyes. "There. Is this what you want?"
Joe dropped his head.
"Can't bear to look? I'm not as pretty as her, right? Don't have her knockers, her long blonde hair, her blue eyes. Well, this is me."
"I...I'm sorry," Joe mumbled. He slowly turned, went to the door, down the steps and back to his car. Mary ran into her room, sobbing.
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