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She picked her way through the crowd, between blankets and coolers, over legs and backpacks. She passed couples tangy with sweat and cheap wine, and groups of young men reeking with the burping ripeness of beer. Across the cooling air drifted the smoke of cigarettes and marijuana. She cursed them for their happy oblivion.
She found the river and followed it upstream toward her home. When she was back in her territory, she dove into the tall grass and rolled there, clutching herself as if to crush the pain, but her misery broke loose and she shrieked her curses at the sky. She raged at herself and the boy, and cried hot tears.
"I am beautiful!" she screamed hoarsely. "Why can't he see that?" She ripped at the grass, dug holes in the earth, and flung the soil into the night.
She didn't hear someone approaching.
"Jeez, Viv, could you make a little more noise?"
Vivian went rigid, her hands clutching the front of her shirt. One lengthening nail snicked through the cotton and pricked her chest.
Rafe sauntered around her and bent to peer in her face. "Upset?"
"Fuck you."
"Why don't you take care of him, Viv? He deserves it. You could do that - couldn't you?"
She lunged at Rafe and tried to tear off a piece of his face.
He jumped back, laughing. "Save that for your meat-boy, Viv." Then he was gone.
Vivian curled into a ball to stifle her sobs, ashamed that Rafe had seen her out of control. After a while, even her crying ceased, and she crouched in the prickling grass with her arms tight around her knees, her nose full of the dust of summer hay. Gradually she slid to her side in a crumpled rag-doll heap.
There was rustling in the grass, and this time Vivian recognized the leather and tartness that was Rafe before he reached her. She could feel him standing over her but she ignored him. He nudged her gently with his toe, then slid something long, cold, and smooth into the crook of her arm. She opened her eyes and bared her teeth at him.
"It doesn't solve anything," he said, and she was taken aback by the unaccustomed pity in his eyes. "But it makes you numb for a while." Then he left.
He had given her a bottle. She didn't even bother to read the label, but unscrewed the top and took a swig. She sputtered, losing half her mouthful in a spray. She was prepared for the second mouthful, even though every drop carved a burning path to her gut. The third gulp brought on the beginnings of the promised numbness. I owe Rafe one, she thought, and laughed bitterly. She wondered if the whole bottle would wipe out her pain, or would it kill her?
If they find me dead of alcohol poisoning in the morning, that'll serve Aiden right, she thought. He'll know it's his fault. She took another swig. Everything's his fault. And another swig. I was okay before he hurt me. And another swig. I never had a blackout before. I never woke up with blood all over me before. It's all his fault. I might have done something terrible, and it's ... all... his.. .fault.
The more she drank, the more reasons she found to hate him.
And then he flings that bitch in my face, she fumed. Kelly had been waiting for this chance all along. How long did it take her to show up on his doorstep after she found out we'd split? Vivian wondered. Not long, I bet. Dammit, if that cow had left him alone, I'd have him back. The scheming, filthy little white-fleshed grub.
I wanted to love you, she thought miserably as she held the bottle in an embrace.
The liquor didn't burn now, but was warm and comforting; thinking of Kelly and Aiden burned.
I'd like to feel my teeth in her throat, Vivian thought. I'd like to slit her gullet. But the image of a yellow police ribbon came to her unbidden, and she shook her head violently. The action left her feeling slightly sick. No, no, she thought. Bad girl. Can't do that, can I? Then an idea brought a thin smile to her lips, and made the warmth of the liquor burn brighter. But I could scare her real good.
"And where might I accomplish this delicious task?" she asked aloud. Her words slurred, and for some stupid reason this made her laugh. "Where, where ..." She laughed again. "I know where you live, Kelly." She almost sang the words.
She struggled to her feet and tottered a few steps, and when she remembered the bottle she almost fell over retrieving it.
It took Vivian twenty minutes to lope down deserted, lamplit streets to Kelly's home, and her gait became steadier as she found her rhythm. At the house she looked around to see if anyone watched, then slunk into the shadow of the hedge that bordered the side of the yard.
There was a car in the driveway of the small brick rambler, and all the windows were dark, but the lights on either side of the front door were on. It was way after midnight; was Kelly not home yet?
Vivian opened the bottle and took a drink, then leaped a white picket fence into the backyard. Her landing was more of a stagger. She could taste the liquor when she inhaled, as if she breathed its vapor instead of air.;Okay, okay." Willem got to his feet. He hesitated. "But you stand up for yourself, too, okay?"
"Yeah, sure."
Vivian walked down Lincoln Avenue toward the park. She was going to stop moping and stand up for herself, like Willem had said. There was a free concert this evening: six local bands hoping to draw new fans into the college bars up the road. The Amoeba would certainly be there, and Aiden with them. She'd been making life too easy for him; it was time to make him look at her and remember how beautiful she was; then maybe he'd realize what a fool he'd been for rejecting her.
She had brushed her tawny hair until it shone, and summer highlights made it shimmer with silver fire. Her cropped shirt revealed her flat, taut belly above her low-slung skirt. Her flesh was smooth, soft, and golden.
A sign on a telephone pole caught her eye; it was the third one she'd passed. This time she stopped to read and discovered a message from the police, warning the public to avoid any large dogs they saw running loose. She snorted with amusement. She suddenly felt better than she had for days.
