Parlor Tricks

Chapter 10

Hank reluctantly slipped away after dinner. It was unusually cold for the early fall. His thoughts fell to Josie and the hope she would stay in tonight or, at the very least, dress for the cold if she went out; he suspected she would not. He dug his hands deep into his coat pockets; the pressure caused a pang from his cut, but instead of a wince, a smile graced his face. In the presence of no one, he let the smile linger. The night was tranquil being alone, with the moon having stolen the movement of the day; even the crickets were silent. It was peaceful, even so, Hank wished he were on the garden swing with Josie.

It was early enough that the yellow glow of lights came from gardens and walkways of the homes he passed, but Wendy's house was dark except for one light on the second floor. Hank barely knocked when the door opened, and she ushered him quickly inside.

There was no greeting, just a hiss; "did anyone see you?"

"I don't think so," Hank removed his hat as he spoke. She eyed him up and down before turning to head up the stairs. "Do you want me to look at your car?" He called after her.

"Don't be foolish." Her condemnation was abrasive.

"Wendy, I...."

She didn't let him finish. "You want to repent the life your daddy stole from me; this is what I want. If you have other intentions, take them elsewhere."

Her words were as sharp and quick as a stabbing knife; she had expected the moment. Hank watched her climb the stairs as he hesitated, his mind lingering in the "me" instead of an "us." He knew his feet would follow her, just as he knew the "us" had long since perished. She was correct; he intended to help ease some burden that his life was promising had inflicted on her. The differences that had grown between them didn't matter; it was an obligation he carried on behalf of his father and his former self. His feet carried him up the stairs behind her.

Hank was absent, drifting, as physiology took over. His hands looked rough and obtuse on the pink of her hips. He watched the pressure of his thumb drive the color from her skin, only to flush back quickly as he released the tension. Her body tensed with one last heave before she fell beside him. Hank laid motionless for a few moments as the crossing of limbs passed, returning them to two isolated bodies. Silently, he sat up and pulled on his pants.

"I'm heading to Hartford next week," Hank had no reply to her assertion. "I'm marrying a man there. He's a good man, a doctor," Wendy added matter-of-factly.

Hank tucked a foot into his shoe before asking, "do you love him?"

Wendy let out a cackle that made Hank's face flush. "Love is for children and interruptions. Dr. Thompson will do right by my boys and me."

Hank pulled his shirt on as he escaped her room. He welcomed the harsh air of the chilly night. He tugged on his hat before dragging on his coat and heading down the street. The thought Willie's rose and fell before it made any commitment. The cold air was biting, and home was calling him.

Hank walked around back to enter through the side door. In the moonlight's pale, he saw Josie huddled on the end of the garden swing in his old barn coat, lost in thought; peeking out were two bare feet. Annoyance stirred in him as he dropped beside her, immediately grabbing her feet in his hands. She did not startle at all, as though she had been expecting him.

"You're going to catch death with bare feet in this temperature," his voice came out as a growl as he continued to warm her feet gently in his hands.

"How will I know the temperature if I hide my feet in all those layers?" She nodded to his feet, safely tucked beneath socks and shoes.

"Maybe I should just let a couple of toes fall off," but even as he spoke, he allowed one foot to burrow beneath his thigh while the other remained tucked within his hands. Her feet were so tiny his hand could cover the length.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Hank's eyes lifted to the ghostly clouds that slowly drifted past the moon. His mind strayed back to Wendy. Love was a distraction to her; her focus was on her place and stature. Josie pulled her foot from beneath him and poked his ribs with her big toe. With no thought, he unbuttoned his coat and let her slip in both feet. He tucked his hands in his pocket and wrapped himself and her feet in the folds of the coat. His mind kept on thinking about love and stature. His mother could have picked up like Wendy, but she stayed and decayed with the house. Was she too fragile, as everyone suspected, or just permanently disrupted by love as Wendy would certainly assess?

"You're about to think Fall back to Summer over there," as Josie spoke, she wiggled her feet against his stomach.

"Sorry," he murmured as he pulled her feet in tighter.

"What's on your mind? Is it the girl that's with us?" The insertion of another woman made Hank meet Josie's eyes. "I can smell her. She smells like this entire town; diamonds and dust."

Hank swallowed back his laugh. Diamonds and dust were too accurate of a depiction of his whole life to be funny. "You ever wonder what it would be like if you lost everything you were born into?"

"I wasn't born into anything. In my mind, if it didn't happen, I'm not thinking about it." There was a bite to her typically lyrical cadence.

Hank just nodded and added her judgments to the swirl in his head. "Have you ever been in love?" His voice came soft as a child's.

There was a twinkle in Josie's eyes. "You asking Hank?"

His face flush, but the embarrassment quickly eased to a bubbling frustration. "Do you always speak in riddles?"

"Riddles are my parlor trick; it's what draws in the moths and the butterflies."

"Which am I?"

"Skin like moonlight. Love, you're a moth."

Hank thought for a moment. His mind lingered on love again; it continued to crop up like a thorn. "What's my parlor trick?"

"Oh, I wouldn't pretend to guess. You could have the trickery of an actor, the mischief of a musician, or the cunning of a storyteller. I hope you don't have the lies of a politician," her face twisted in exaggerated distaste.

"What do you do with your parlor trick?" His head was spinning from the speed of her puzzles.

"Oh, I can't tell you that; they can't hang you if they aren't sure what you did." The twinkle was still in her eyes, but her smile spread to a knowing grin.

"We should get in before we both lose a toe." As Hank spoke, the smile faded from her face. "You all right, Josie?" Hank couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes. With the slightest of a jerk, she plastered a grin back on her face and grasped his outstretched hand, but the sorrow haunted Hank as they made their way inside. "Tea?" He offered. Guilt was seeping in from the sadness he had seen in her eyes.

"No, I'm about to sleep like a horse if I don't lie down." She gave a wink as she headed down the hall. Hank watched her go before heading up himself.

Hank knew sleep would escape him, so he dropped the needle on his turntable. His thoughts muted the music as the logo spun. He knew the song playing without hearing it; the flip side of the Terry Reid album was memorized, and he knew where it would end. He watched the spinning straight to May Fly when he felt her touch on his shoulder. His body stayed steady, but the contact jarred his mind as his eyes settled on Josie.

"Dance with me, Hank," her head fell to his chest, her porcelain hand lingering in the air until Hank grasped it and pulled it to him as well.

He didn't worry about the beating of his heart this time. He hoped she could hear it, feel it, remind her he's alive.

Josie gave him two songs. A slow, mournful beginning breaking to a wilder enthusiasm he didn't know was in him. She twirled and giggled in his arms and spun his head with her laugh.

"Don't wake your momma." She scolded as she ricocheted to and from his side. Each inch away felt cold, but when she came back, the teasing enticed every sense he ever had. And then she evaporated, slipping away like a dream, leaving him alone with his Rich Kid Blues.