Prom Night in Purgatory (Slow Dance in P)

~16~

A Time to Gather Stones Together





The end of the school year was three weeks away, and Johnny was failing English. He’d flirted with Miss Barker all year -- just enough so she cut him some slack here and there. But she had decided to get some backbone and was insisting he read some book and take a test on it in order to get a final grade. He had never read an entire book in his life, and he didn’t plan to now. He was smart enough that he usually managed to listen in class and get the gist of whatever they were reading and studying, and he had always squeaked by. But he had missed class a time too many, missed one too many assignments, and was now between a rock and a hard spot. He knew if Miss Barker gave him a test on A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, he would never pass. Cheating was beneath him. Sweet persuasion wasn’t, but looking on another kid’s paper or stealing the answers just wasn’t in him. It rankled when others did it, and he wouldn’t do it himself. Maybe because it was what people expected of Johnny Kinross, or maybe it was his own warped moral code, but he did have one, and he didn’t cheat.

So here he was, sitting in Miss Barker’s class after school, watching the poor little brown bird, as he secretly called her, blush and flutter and hating school and himself with a passion. He felt a little sick as he smiled at her, giving her a full taste of “the devil’s charm” as his momma liked to call his dimpled grin. She stuttered and seemed to forget what she was saying. Johnny stood and walked to where she was standing by her desk. She bowed her head a little, almost shyly, and he looked down at the surprisingly crooked part that divided the sides of her head into almost equal halves. She always parted her hair in the middle, pulled it back severely, and secured it at her nape. She wore it like this every day. Johnny always wondered why. It was as if she tried to be as unattractive as possible. If he could mix his momma with Miss Barker, he would probably get a good balance - as it was, each woman could probably benefit by spending some time with the other.

He crowded her a little, knowing that he made her nervous in a very non-teacher/student way.

“What if you just tell me about this book, and I’ll listen very attentively, take the test, and we’ll call it good,” Johnny suggested oh-so-helpfully.

Miss Barker looked as if she might give in, and her eyes fell for a moment on his lips. Then her gaze shot up to his, and there was a look in her eyes that caused him to take a step back. There was hope in her eyes. The expression on her face reminded him of the way Maggie had looked at him when he’d kissed her on the beach -- the moment he’d felt the very thing she had been trying to explain to him. That kiss had rocked his world. Her sweet mouth, her arms locked around his neck, her slim form pushed up against his, the love that he had felt as soon as his lips touched hers.

For a moment he forgot where he was, the memory hung around him like he was there all over again, and Maggie was looking at him like maybe they had a chance. Then Miss Barker spoke, her voice an unwelcome reminder that he hadn’t seen Maggie in two weeks, and would likely never see her again. He steeled himself against the memory. He’d had fun before her, he’d have fun after. He looked down into Miss Barker’s expectant face, and his heart tripped up again. Damn.

He could do it! It would take one little kiss on that sad little mouth, and she’d talk him right through the book, and he’d be home free. He could do it. Just don’t think about it, Johnny, he told himself. Miss Barker was a very nice lady-- maybe only four years older than he was himself. And she wanted him to! He could see it written all over her homely face. Damn! He could do this!

He couldn’t do it. The thought of Maggie, her face shining with hope, filled him with a self-disgust that he couldn’t swallow and he didn’t want to live with. Maggie wouldn’t like him kissing other girls, as if her kisses had meant nothing to him. She wouldn’t want him to treat Miss Barker that way, either. Hell, he didn’t want to treat Miss Barker that way. Damn it! He pushed away from the teacher’s desk and walked several steps away.

“Give me the book,” he said curtly, holding out his hand before he changed his mind. “I’ll do the best I can. Will you give me a week?”

Miss Barker’s mouth had dropped open, and she seemed at a loss for a minute. Then she closed her mouth, squared her shoulders, and nodded primly. She walked to where he stood, hand outstretched, and placed the book in his open palm.

“Absolutely. You’ll do fine. It really is a wonderful book.” She didn’t even stutter or blush when she spoke, and Johnny wondered for the first time if she had really wanted him to kiss her after all. Maybe she was afraid of him. Maybe that had been it all along -- not attraction, but intimidation. The thought made him uncomfortable, and he resolved to read the book and do well on the test as a sort of penance. His own words to Maggie rang in his head. “Behind every bad man is a woman who can’t resist him.” He didn’t want to be a bad man. He would read the book. The thought that Maggie would be proud lingered somewhere in the back of his mind. He shoved it away and walked out of the room, letting poor Miss Barker be.





The book wasn’t half bad. In fact, he actually even liked it. By the end he was riveted on the tale of the underdog who became the hero. He even imagined himself in the shoes of Sydney Carton, the character who gave his life to save another man, a man he knew was a better man that he. He had willingly gone to the guillotine. Man, that would be a scary way to go, Johnny shuddered, contemplating it. But it would be quick -- and probably painless. Could he do it? Could he give up his life for someone else?

Johnny thought about it long and hard when he finished the book, gripping the novel between his hands, the final pages long since read. He had always been the man of the house, and men protected their families. The original John Kinross -- his father -- had long since gone. No one knew where, and Johnny could barely remember him, so he didn’t ever miss him. In fact, he’d wondered before if Billy was John Kinross’s son at all. Dolly called both her sons by the Kinross name, the name she kept herself, and it was good enough for Johnny. Billy was his, whether or not their fathers were the same. Yeah, he’d die for Billy if he had to.

And for Maggie? A little voice inside of him questioned, much to his disgust. He growled in frustration, making Billy stir in his sleep, lying in the narrow bed alongside his. He threw the book across the room and watched as it collided with the wall hard enough to break the binding of the book. Billy sat up like he’d been slapped and then lay back down as if nothing had happened, falling carelessly back into sleep. Johnny had to smile at the rumpled hair and sleepy face of his younger brother. When Billy had his glasses off he reminded Johnny of the way he had looked when he was really little. It made Johnny hurt a little inside, the way a parent does when they realize the child they loved has morphed into a whole new creature.

Johnny felt a helplessness descend on him, and it wasn’t just the melancholy of time passing. It was Maggie. Maggie who had disappeared without a trace. Maggie with no phone number and no address. Maggie, who he had been unable to get out of his head. He dreamed about her, laughing up at him, her long dark hair swinging around her, her movements confident and smooth, matching his as they danced around the gymnasium, into the starlit night, and out onto the beach, where his dream always ended short of kissing her again.

Chief Bailey had talked to Lizzie Honeycutt. She had been vague in the way that kids are vague -- telling him something seemingly helpful, only to contradict it in the next sentence. The only thing that was clear was that she did know Maggie, she had helped her take the car, and she didn’t know where she was now.

Chief Bailey had also talked to Mr. Andrew Russell and his wife, as well as their daughters Cathy and Shirley. They had not had any family visiting recently, nor were they related to anyone by the name of Maggie. It appeared that Maggie had concocted the story on the spot. The discovery almost made Johnny feel better. The mystery of her disappearance was equalled by the mystery of her identity, making him believe she had vanished deliberately and was not the victim of something nefarious.

There were no missing person alerts for young girls in the whole state of Texas, not to mention girls matching her description. Texas was apparently a great place for young ladies ages 15-20, because every one of them had stayed put in the time frame Maggie went missing. Chief Bailey said he had filed a report and tucked it away, but there wasn’t anything else he could do. He had said it was like looking for a ghost.





Graduation came and went. He made it. Johnny got his diploma, and he had actually earned it...well, mostly. He had flirted his way through some of it, but he scored an A on the final test for A Tale of Two Cities, which should count for something. And in so many ways it was “the best of times and the worst of times.” He was free. No more school, no more teachers, no more Principal Marshall breathing down his neck. He could work full time at Gene’s shop, spending time doing what he loved most. “Fixing cars and hitting bars,” Carter had said when they’d done the man-hug thing after graduation. Carter was whoopin’ and hollerin’-- and for a minute, Johnny saw himself doing just that, fixing cars and going to bars and getting old. And he panicked.

Johnny wasn’t sure that was all he wanted anymore. He definitely had to hang around until Billy was out of school. He needed to make sure Momma didn’t fall in love with the wrong guy and get herself in trouble, too. But then what? Maybe there was a much bigger world out there. A world where Maggie existed somewhere beyond the confines of his own little life. He had felt desolate all of a sudden and ended up leaving the after-graduation party early, heading out to the reservoir to skip rocks and sleep on the sand. He’d spent many a summer night out at the rez. Now here it was, halfway through the summer, with August breathing down on him with her hot breath and her short temper, and he found himself there again. He had driven out after he got off work, threw off his shoes and jumped fully clothed into the drink just to escape her. Then he had laid out on the beach and wished like hell he was dancing with Maggie.

He had his car radio cranked up just like he’d done the night of the prom. He listened as the same old announcer spun out some of the very same songs, and he laughed at himself for being such an old woman. Here he was, Johnny Kinross, who could have any girl he wanted, sitting by himself, mooning over a girl he had met only once.

“And here’s a brand new one coming out to you across the airwaves, folks. It’s a beauty...tell your friends you heard it here first. The Platters singing ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.’” The announcer’s practiced voice introduced the next song with all the enthusiasm and vigor of a true music lover, and Johnny sat up abruptly as the opening bars bled out across the sand. He listened, growing more and more baffled. He had never heard this song before, he would have remembered it for the title alone.

It was her song. The song Maggie told him was her favorite. How could it be her favorite song when it hadn’t even been released yet? She’d said it was an oldie but still the best love song she’d ever heard. An oldie? The announcer said it was brand new....

“What the hell, Maggie?” Johnny yelled out, his voice echoing angrily across the water, only to yell right back. “None of it makes any damn sense! Where are you?!” He stood and chucked the rock in his hand as hard as he could throw it. He felt like crying and was suddenly mad as hell and clueless as heaven, and done sitting at the rez, talking to the water. He grabbed his boots and shoved his feet inside and marched to his car, flipping the radio off and gunning the engine. He spun out and headed back into town, the hot summer air whooshing through the windows and merging with the frustrated heat inside his chest.

Johnny pulled in to The Malt and sighed. He wasn’t fit for company, and he wasn’t dressed for it either. His clothes had dried in the August night, but they were stiff and sandy, and his hair was probably a mess. He ran his hands through it, tugging his comb from his back pocked to put it to rights. He may not be fit for company, but he needed it, and The Malt was as good a place as any to find it, plus he could check on his momma.

His mother had told him it was over with the mayor. Mayor Carlton, Roger’s dad, was as slick and handsome as his son, without the mean streak. Dolly Kinross said he was nice to her, and she said he was lonely and miserable, and “it really wasn’t like that, Johnny!” she had huffed at him, her hands on her hips in mock outrage.

“Good, Momma. Then you won’t mind tellin’ Mayor Carlton that he can solve his loneliness problem by gettin’ off his ass and doing the job the people of Honeyville elected him to do. You end it, Momma, or I will!” Johnny had said. “Billy isn’t complaining, but I think Roger Carlton’s been making his life difficult. I wouldn’t be surprised if it has something to do with his daddy spending time with you.”

“Roger?” Dolly Kinross had squeaked out, and she got a funny look on her face. “He’s been giving Billy a hard time?”

Johnny just looked at her hard, folding his arms and waiting.

“I’ll tell the mayor we can’t be friends anymore, Johnny. I promise.” Dolly looked sincere. “Roger scares me a little. I didn’t know he was bothering Billy.”

That was a week ago, and so far so good. Momma had been coming home right after work, and Billy even saw her talking to Chief Bailey yesterday on her lunch shift.

Johnny walked inside The Malt, and a few friends called out his name. Carter and Peggy had been inseparable since the prom, and they sat at a table in the back, a few other friends surrounding them. Carter had his arm slung around Peggy’s shoulders, and she kept looking at him like he wasn’t a tall, skinny, yellow-haired scarecrow but something special. She was too pretty for him, but they looked good together, and they complemented each other in a way that surprised Johnny. He chatted with them for a minute and looked around, expecting to see his mother waiting tables.

“Hey Carter, you see my momma tonight? Was she here?”

“She was, but she hustled on outta here just before you came.” Carter lowered his voice and leaned in to his friend, speaking directly in to his ear. “Roger Carlton was in here. He got a little hot under the collar. He was being a complete nosebleed, if you ask me. Anyway, she dumped a drink over his head to cool him down some, I guess. She apologized, but Val sent her home.”

Roger Carlton again. He was really gonna have to do something about the kid. He had let things go so far because he’d felt like maybe his mother had been the cause, but Roger just wouldn’t go away. Johnny grabbed a burger and a Coke and headed for the door.

Momma wasn’t home, though. Neither was Billy. Johnny sat and waited for a while. He showered the reservoir sand and grit off his skin and got ready for bed, revisiting some of his favorite parts in his now favorite book. He was just dozing off when Billy came in. His face was flushed, and he was wearing a pair of sweats and a tee shirt and sneakers. The kid wasn’t exactly an athlete, and he avoided sweating at all costs, but it looked like he was taking up running or something. Billy was always neat as a pin and careful about his appearance. He didn’t look at Johnny as he started to undress, and then he paused, gathered up his clothes and went into the bathroom. Johnny raised his eyebrows at his brother’s retreating back and decided it must be a puberty thing. Billy getting shy about changing in front of him almost made him laugh out loud.

It was 2 a.m. before his mother came in. Johnny jerked awake and listened, hearing her walk down the narrow hallway between the bedrooms. She flipped on her light and shut her door softly. Johnny eased out from under the covers and opened his bedroom door, wincing as it squeaked loudly. Billy didn’t stir. Johnny tapped on his mother’s door to warn her he was coming in, but didn’t wait for her to give permission. He didn’t want to give her any time to compose herself. Two a.m. meant she had been up to no good, and he was tired of worrying about her.

She screamed a little and tried to say she was undressing, not to come in, but Johnny didn’t listen. She was fully dressed and sitting on her bed, hands in her lap. She stood and turned quickly, hiding her face from him, but not quickly enough.

“Ah, shit! Momma!” Johnny flew across the room and spun his mother to face him, sucking in his breath as his eyes landed on her bruised and swollen right eye. Her bottom lip was puffy too, and it was split down the center.

“Who did this!” he roared, not caring anymore about being gentle or quiet.

“It was a misunderstanding,” his mother started, folding her arms against his anger.

“Bullshit, Momma!” He groaned, turning from her and locking his hands behind his head in frustration. “No one smacks a woman in the face, more than once by the looks of it, without understanding exactly what he’s doing.”

“Johnny Kinross!” his mother hissed, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her once more. “I am a grown woman, and you are my son, and you will watch your mouth around me. I may make mistakes, but you won’t talk to me that way!” Her lips trembled and her eyes fought against the tears that she had probably been holding in for a while.

“Momma,” Johnny sighed, more softly now. “Me respecting you is not the problem here. You don’t respect yourself.”

“That’s not it!” Dolly Kinross started up, but Johnny wouldn’t let her continue.

“Yeah, Momma. It is. You think you deserve to be slapped around and treated like garbage, so you do things you know you shouldn’t do so that when you are mistreated you can justify it. But if you think I’m gonna stand by and allow someone -- the mayor or anyone else -- to put a mark on my mother, then you don’t know me very well.”

“It’s over, Johnny. It’s done. I’m not seeing the mayor anymore. I promise.” His mother called out behind him as he turned to leave her room. “Please don’t do anything! Just let it go!”

Billy stood in the hallway between the bedrooms. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his face was creased with sleep. He didn’t just look tired. He looked weary, and Johnny paused a moment, looking into his younger brother’s face.

“Is she okay?” Billy blurted out before Johnny could say a word.

“She’s fine,” Johnny soothed instinctively. “She’s just been hanging around the wrong kinds of people in the wrong places, and it caught up with her.” Johnny put his arm around his brother’s shoulders and led him back into their room. “I don’t want you to worry, Billy. I’ll take care of you, and Momma too, if she’ll let me.”

“She said for you not to do anything, Johnny! What are you going to do?” Billy grabbed Johnny’s arm. “You’re not going anywhere are you? The mayor could throw you in jail if you go after him, Johnny! I don’t want anything to happen to you!” Billy looked as if he were going to burst into tears, and Johnny pushed the anger away temporarily, for the sake of his younger brother who could obviously tell Johnny had revenge on his mind.

“I’m not going anywhere tonight. Let’s go back to bed. Come on.” Johnny pushed his brother gently back to his narrow bed and then climbed into his own, pulling the thin blanket around his shoulders and closing his eyes to Billy’s worried gaze.

“You promise you aren’t just waiting until I fall asleep?” Billy’s voice wavered, unconvinced.

“I promise I will be here all night long, and I’ll still be here when you wake up,” Johnny said calmly, fighting the impulse that wanted to send him raging through town, throwing bricks through the windows of certain distinguished citizens’ homes. He lay there silently, perfectly still, until Billy finally fell asleep and the tiny, dumpy house on Julian Street was hushed and still. Johnny would be true to his word; he would be there when Billy woke up, but he hadn’t abandoned his need for revenge, and the mayor was going to pay.