Head Like a Hole: a novel of horror by Van Wey Andrew

Author:Van Wey, Andrew
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greywood Bay
Published: 2022-10-07T00:00:00+00:00

chapter thirty-eight

In the cantina, Dennis and Sal’s great debate was shifting from cinema to sports. They hardly noticed that their dates were leaving until their jackets were on and June dropped a twenty on the table. By then it was too late, but that was okay. In the grand scheme of things, there would be other dinners, other dates, and other one-sided discussions. They had their whole lives ahead of them; they all seemed to know it.

June didn’t remember to lower the Saab’s top on the drive back to campus. She had told Cindy she’d dropped a ring in the sink, had gotten her hand stuck in the drain trying to retrieve it. Cindy didn’t buy it, but she pretended to, and June was grateful for that small mercy.

The sharp beaks.

Those puckering suckers.

That mariachi player with his empty left eye.

June white-knuckled the steering wheel. Why was it all falling apart these past several weeks?

Cindy tuned the radio to a disco station and bobbed her shoulders, trying to lighten the mood. She said, “Anyways, don’t trip. They were a pair of scrubs, weren’t they?”

June shrugged. “Dennis seemed nice.”

“Nice by proximity, but I need a larger sample size. God, Sal… Could you imagine hooking up? He’d probably keep a log and critique it.”

“He’d probably wear his scarf.”

“That ratty thing swaying around like an old elephant trunk while he’s all naked and thrusting? There’s an image.” She raised her nose and took on Sal’s inflection. “Mmm, yes, missionary, a most rudimentary position. I much prefer the Gutenberg pile driver.”

“The Gutenberg pile driver?”

Cindy shrugged and held her hand out the window, making little wave motions in the cool air. June felt the laughter building between them. Then she was dabbing her eyes, trying to steer while wiping that mental image from her mind. Perhaps, in another life, that was how her night with Sal was proceeding. No wonder some of the sisters preferred much older guys.

Back at the house, June locked the front door. Cindy called out from the dining room, “Hey! Thanks for coming. Sorry it was such a bummer.”

June shook her head. “I’m just having an off night.”

“Well, if you get bored, I’ll be in the rec room. Maybe we can watch a movie and change our majors to film.”

June smiled. “Actually, I’ve got an old friend coming by. If you hear a knock at the door—”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll let them in.”

June wanted to say more, to offer her younger sister some encouragement, some words to help her keep pushing forward. Words she had craved but were rarely offered. Yet she sensed Cindy didn’t need them. She was already taking advantage of the house’s emptiness, sliding into the kitchen and retrieving a tub of ice cream from the industrial freezer.

“Good night, Cindy.”

“Night, sis.”

Upstairs, June turned on her light and closed the door. She knew she didn’t have to lock it, but her mind drifted back to those Saturday nights in Tenbury common rooms, the TV and the rented horror videos, the nervous giggles and screams.

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