Read Online The Coldest Night by Robert Olmstead - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Olmstead
Ads: Link
few miles came to a little gas station and grocery store. Mercy banged on the door until a light went on and an old man shuffled from a backroom, dragging his suspenders onto his shoulders. She bought gas and oil and a sealing mixture to pour in the radiator. She bought a salve that promised to relieve the pain of scalding burns.
Shirtless, Henry lay back in the passenger’s seat and she spread the salve on his face and chest. However hard she tried to hide her concern, he could tell by her face that he was badly burned, but for the moment he was soothed.
This time he slowly uncapped the radiator under a clutch of rags. It was not so fierce as before, but its heat was terrifying. He poured in the sealing mixture and more water. He replaced the cap and slammed shut the hood.
“You need to see a doctor,” she said. “It is what you are supposed to do.”
“We can go now,” he said. She hesitated until he said, “Now, God damn it,” and so she drove while he navigated.
Hours later, they chugged into the outskirts of New Orleans and the headlights raised up shacks and shotgun houses. The houses were small and well tended and inside each was a darkness more black than the night itself. The automobile was breaking down again, becoming noisy and recalcitrant and soon would be of no use to them.
“Henry,” she said. “I know where I am. We’re almost there, baby.”
It was then he began to cry silently. It filled his throat and caught there. Inside him there came thousands of breakings and tightenings. Inside him, a noose cinched taut and he felt for breath.
When he awoke they were parked and she was in the backseat sleeping beside him. He put his arm around her and she curled and folded inside his hands.
“Are you ready for again?” she said, her stirring at his side making his burns go hot.
He made a laughing sound and gathered her ardent turning body in his arms, the touch of her burning him, and hove up on his knees as if to pray, as if he were the last man in the land and she were this woman under him, the last female of his kind and half of him was on fire again. He wanted to be so good when he felt so black inside.
She lifted her dress up over her hips.
The soon-to-be light was still off in the east and inside his hands he held her ribs, the swoop of her white spine. She reached back between her legs to where they fit and sighed and said his name again and again.
Their skin was greasy, his stung and boiled, and he was pulsing and breathing and his heart pumping blood. Turning inside him was something like greatness. It shivered down his arms and the whole of him was on fire. He set off inside her and he thought maybe that was the one and maybe with that they would be together forever.
She returned herself to his side and closed her eyes and passed into something like sleep, but he was left raw and burned and awake. He thought how much he must be hated by her father and he hated him back. He had come along with her, both of them leaving their families behind. He did not know how bound she was to hers or even if she was bound to them at all. Sometimes he thought she’d found him so that he would take her away. That was fine with him.
She whispered, “You opened my body and took out all my bones starting with the small ones.”
She lay against him, the scant light rising on her neck, her body rigid.
“Did it happen yet?” he asked, and was no more than a gasping whisper as his hand floated before his good eye and settled between her legs.
“Oh, yes. I have a feeling,” she said. “I believe that was the one that made a new little baby.”
“Do you think a boy or a girl?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It has not decided yet. You know they take a little while to decide and even then they can change their minds.”
The light was coming on and there were new shadow lines and he could make out streets canopied in trees.
“This is the place?” he said, and he thought how greasy their skin
Shirtless, Henry lay back in the passenger’s seat and she spread the salve on his face and chest. However hard she tried to hide her concern, he could tell by her face that he was badly burned, but for the moment he was soothed.
This time he slowly uncapped the radiator under a clutch of rags. It was not so fierce as before, but its heat was terrifying. He poured in the sealing mixture and more water. He replaced the cap and slammed shut the hood.
“You need to see a doctor,” she said. “It is what you are supposed to do.”
“We can go now,” he said. She hesitated until he said, “Now, God damn it,” and so she drove while he navigated.
Hours later, they chugged into the outskirts of New Orleans and the headlights raised up shacks and shotgun houses. The houses were small and well tended and inside each was a darkness more black than the night itself. The automobile was breaking down again, becoming noisy and recalcitrant and soon would be of no use to them.
“Henry,” she said. “I know where I am. We’re almost there, baby.”
It was then he began to cry silently. It filled his throat and caught there. Inside him there came thousands of breakings and tightenings. Inside him, a noose cinched taut and he felt for breath.
When he awoke they were parked and she was in the backseat sleeping beside him. He put his arm around her and she curled and folded inside his hands.
“Are you ready for again?” she said, her stirring at his side making his burns go hot.
He made a laughing sound and gathered her ardent turning body in his arms, the touch of her burning him, and hove up on his knees as if to pray, as if he were the last man in the land and she were this woman under him, the last female of his kind and half of him was on fire again. He wanted to be so good when he felt so black inside.
She lifted her dress up over her hips.
The soon-to-be light was still off in the east and inside his hands he held her ribs, the swoop of her white spine. She reached back between her legs to where they fit and sighed and said his name again and again.
Their skin was greasy, his stung and boiled, and he was pulsing and breathing and his heart pumping blood. Turning inside him was something like greatness. It shivered down his arms and the whole of him was on fire. He set off inside her and he thought maybe that was the one and maybe with that they would be together forever.
She returned herself to his side and closed her eyes and passed into something like sleep, but he was left raw and burned and awake. He thought how much he must be hated by her father and he hated him back. He had come along with her, both of them leaving their families behind. He did not know how bound she was to hers or even if she was bound to them at all. Sometimes he thought she’d found him so that he would take her away. That was fine with him.
She whispered, “You opened my body and took out all my bones starting with the small ones.”
She lay against him, the scant light rising on her neck, her body rigid.
“Did it happen yet?” he asked, and was no more than a gasping whisper as his hand floated before his good eye and settled between her legs.
“Oh, yes. I have a feeling,” she said. “I believe that was the one that made a new little baby.”
“Do you think a boy or a girl?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It has not decided yet. You know they take a little while to decide and even then they can change their minds.”
The light was coming on and there were new shadow lines and he could make out streets canopied in trees.
“This is the place?” he said, and he thought how greasy their skin
Similar Books
