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Story by Guy Hogan
Pittsburgh (1980)
The warm summer night waited outside. It was Saturday night.
Inside, these two sat in the air conditioned low lighting near
the dance floor. She attended the University of Pittsburgh, and
now sat looking down at her hands holding the tall glass of crushed
ice and mixed fruit juice on the table top. Several couples were
dancing on the raised dance floor.
She said, "I've never had a stranger ask me to come home
with him."
He said, "I've seen you around."
"I've seen you around, too."
"We have one thing in common."
She looked up. He nodded at their drinks.
She said, "I hate the taste of alcohol."
"I don't, but that's another story. How old are you?"
"Twenty one."
"No boyfriend?"
"We broke up."
She took a swallow of her drink, watching him over the glass.
Six steps lead up to the dance floor. Colored lights flash under
the dancers' feet. A DJ played the music.
She said, "Any more questions?"
"Ask me some."
"Are you married?"
"No."
"Children?"
"I'm thirty three but no children. At least none that I
know of."
"Everyone here seems to know you. Is that what you do? Come
here to pick up college girls?"
"I don't do one night stands anymore."
"Oh," she said. "You're looking for something
steady."
"Sure. Aren't you?"
"Well," she said, "I don't know you and I'm definitely
not in love with you."
"Have you ever been in love?"
"Once," she said.
"And?"
"He couldn't pass up any freebies."
"How old was he?"
"At the time, twenty. We were both juniors."
"Well, you can't expect--"
"Why not? Why is it so difficult for you men to keep your
cocks in your pants?"
He took a drink, putting the glass back down gently.
She said, "I like you a lot less."
She got up, picked up her drink and walked away. She walked in
between the nearly empty tables, down the two steps and across
the aisle to sit on a high stool at the bar. He got up with his
drink, went up the six stairs, through the gyrating dancers,
down the six stairs to sit on a high stool at the bar on the
other side. Some people he knew came in. He sat with them at
the tables. By ten o'clock the place was crowded. He danced.
He was a good dancer. By last call he was ready to go home...
Forbes Avenue was full of students, walking and driving. His
car was in the shop and he didn't have the money to get it out;
but he started a new job Monday. It wasn't much of a job but
he was sure he could keep this one. He had a two year plan to
get back on his feet. He was at the corner when someone called,
"Wait up!" He turned and she came running up to him.
She didn't look straight at him. She tried to catch her breath.
She said, "If I agree to stay with you tonight do we have
to do anything?"
He thought a moment. Then he said, "I wouldn't get any sleep."
"Does it have to be all your way? Don't I get any of what
I want?"
"What do you want?"
"To be with someone. To know someone's there. Just to have
somebody..." She looked away and wiped at her eyes.
Students kept walking past. Students in cars made the avenue
a flowing river of lights.
He said, "What's your name?"
"Janet. Janet Mitchell."
A little later that night he was in his briefs on his back on
the bed in the dark. She was on her stomach in her bra and panties
with his arms around her and her head resting on his chest. They
ignored the bulge in his briefs.
She said, "Did you actually kill anyone?"
"In artillery you don't want to be close enough to see them."
"Women and children, too?"
"Sometimes we wasted villages."
"How old were you?"
"Nineteen."
"Do you think about it?"
"Sometimes I dream about it."
She said, "I could never kill anyone."
"You'd be surprised."
"No, I could never."
"You'd let them kill you?"
No answer.
He stared at the faint shadows playing on the dark ceiling. It
was Sunday morning. A comforting breeze blew through the window
screen.
"Did you have a girlfriend over there?"
"We didn't call them girlfriends."
She stayed motionless against him. The heat of her body was starting
to make him uncomfortable.
He said, "When I got back I broke up with my fiancee."
She raised her head. "Why?"
"She wanted to live in her nice safe world with all of her
nice safe possessions."
"So?"
He didn't answer.
"Didn't you love her?"
"Yes, I loved her. I was crazy about her. I just couldn't
live with her."
After a moment, she lowered her head back down on his chest.
They stayed motionless. He closed his eyes. Maybe he could get
some sleep...He caught himself falling. He stared at the faint
shadows playing on the dark ceiling...
She eased out of his arms, stood beside the bed and then removed
her bra and panties.
"Hush," she said.
Guy Hogan is a Vietnam
Veteran. He received his MFA in fiction writing from the University
of Pittsburgh in 2006. He lives and writes in Pittsburgh. His
homepage is Flash Fiction Tips & Short Stories About Pittsburgh
(www.flashfictionnow.blogspot.com).
For more from Guy read his
December short story.
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