Read Online Zigzagging Down a Wild Trail by Bobbie Ann Mason - Free Book Online Page A

Third Kind
played by a full-blown orchestra, complete with flashing lights. The Western motif, with boots, guns, and wagon wheels imprinted on the carpeting, was homey. She pictured herself—wisecracking and flamboyant—in a flouncy skirt and boots with spurs.
    But today as she wandered through the place, getting her bearings, Peyton trailed her like a hunter, disturbing her concentration. After the first mad rush, she liked to go slowly. Sometimes she preferred to stand in a line for a while, to slow herself down. She liked the suspense of the games—the way they seemed like life-and-death struggles while they were happening. She couldn’t bear uncertainty in everyday life, but at the casinos the sudden emotional turns were like a car chase in the movies. The random surprises of playing the slots made her feel she could revamp her life. At times, being married to Peyton was just sitting in chairs compared with this exhilaration. But at other times, being married to him was more volatile and frightening than any gambling action. It was like being knocked backwards by a thug bursting through a door.
    A girl in a skimpy black satin-and-lace costume offered her a free rum Coke from a tray. She looked too young for the job, Liz thought. She wore a black knee brace, which seemed to complement her outfit. “Rollerblading?” the server-girl explained in a nasal accent. Peyton was playing a slot next to Liz. As he pulled the arm, a memory flashed through her mind—Peyton grabbing the handle of the fuse box in the basement after a fuse blew. She had been ironing and making toast while he was watching his tape of
Die Hard with a Vengeance.
He often replayed the most violent scenes in his favorite movies. He had a Top Ten list of best wipe-out scenes. “How can you watch all that?” she had asked him. “It’s not
my
life,” he said with a satisfied smile. “No skin off my butt.” She wondered increasingly if she should be afraid, although in his obsession he ignored her, as if he was somewhere in the movie and she didn’t exist. But now he was stalking her. She wondered if she had been making excuses for him unconsciously. He had his good side—the way he cooked pancakes on Sundays, his habit of making up funny songs to amuse her. She didn’t draw conclusions easily about people. But even before he went to jail, her friends had said: Dump him. You’ll end up shooting him. Or he’ll shoot you. The rum was opening up her head, and she imagined that she was having deep thoughts.
    In the afternoon Liz drank another rum Coke, and her luck improved. As she collected a fanfare of coins from a machine’s maw, Peyton appeared with a sack of barbecue and Cokes. Carrying her coin bucket, she followed him outside into the hazy, muggy air. They crossed a small bridge to a bench by the brook—the moat that ostensibly allowed the casino to float. Liz thought of the sump pump in her basement. When it rained, water seeped in, and the basement smelled like a drainage ditch.
    â€œI’m moving up to the Double Jackpot Haywire,” Liz said. “I’m going to put in fifty bucks all at once—in quarters—and then I’m going to hit the MAX button until it gives me back something good.”
    Her head buzzed. She had forgotten about her stitches, and when she ran her hand through her hair she almost yanked out a stitch, thinking it was a tick.
    Peyton handed her a sandwich. She stared at it while he peeled a straw and stuck it in one of the Cokes for her. They sat on the bench and gazed at the picturesque stream, choked with blooming lilies. Peyton was unusually quiet.
    â€œWhy don’t you call and find out how your mother is?” Liz said.
    â€œI’ll know sooner or later. There’s nothing I can do, anyway.”
    Liz felt a new wave of grief for Daisy—poor, fat Daisy with her mannish cigarette voice and absurd pink pantsuits. Liz