Ugly Girls by Hunter Lindsay

Author:Hunter, Lindsay [Hunter, Lindsay]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Literary, Psychological, Fiction
ISBN: 9780374710125
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-11-04T08:00:00+00:00

JIM CLOCKED OUT, drove home in the yellow morning. Walked through the front door like he was dragging chains. For a moment, even though he knew better, he saw Perry’s shut door and thought she might be just beyond it, lying in bed or fixing to go out her window. Then he remembered: he’d need to check the cereal box on top of the fridge for money, need to call down to the courthouse to see if bail had been set. His body felt pummeled, like he’d been worked over and only now, hours after the beating, could his muscles relax into their ache.

The night before, he’d gotten a call asking him to fill in. One of the newer guards up and quit, said he couldn’t come in no more. Jim hadn’t blamed him. If he ever found something better himself, he might make the very same call. And it had been a relief, having somewhere to go. Not having to watch Myra drink herself silly while Perry slept in a jail cell. Myra was already three beers in by the time he’d left for his shift. He’d put his hand on the top of her head, in the same gentle way he remembered his father doing to him. “We got to do something about her,” he’d said.

“She’ll be fine,” Myra had answered. Cheersed him. It used to be he could see through these spells Myra had, these bouts of harshness, see right through them to the pain she was feeling. Now he didn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t all that worried, and maybe he should quit worrying, too. Or pretending to worry. Doing his duty as a stepfather.

But she was drinking, right there in front of him. That counted for something. He’d kept his hand there on her head, leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he’d told her.

It made him feel better, anyway, saying it out loud. “Okay,” she’d said.

The shift had gone by as they all did, some hours blurring into the next and some hours like listening to the second hand of a clock. Each time he’d looked in on Herman he’d tried to put on a friendly face, but the man never met his eye. Stayed hunched at his desk or curled facing the wall on his cot. It couldn’t be helped, Jim decided. And at least now the prisoner knew just how far he’d be allowed to take it.

He’d eaten a cold sandwich at about three in the morning. Washed it down with inky coffee. The rest of his shift, the mixture burbled in his throat, bloomed into his mouth in hot, wet blasts. The desk guard and the other walker had just shrugged when he asked after Tums. He’d driven home as the sun was rising, thinking how he could breathe fire, wasn’t that something.

Now he just wanted a shower. And there was Myra, flat on her back in the bathroom, a towel rolled up under her head. He’d

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