Mattiny set it on top of the lamp, on a little attachment that held things that were to be heated. Then Biloxi closed her eyes and began waving her hands.
Outside, a board creaked in the hall. I opened my mouth to tell them to watch out, somebody was out there, probably the whole damned boarding house. But Mattiny went over and listened, so they knew about it.
I must have gone Under again, because next thing I knew a chill was going up my back like cold feathers had tickled it, from a sound in the room you’ll never forget if you hear it once, and in that God-awful country you hear it often: the rattle of a rattlesnake. It’s dry, like the rustle of old leaves, but it gets louder, and all of a sudden it’s going right into your belly, or wherever you keep your guts. I opened my eyes, and across the ring of light on the ceiling something was waving. I looked toward the lamp, and Morina’s face was right over it, white, and screwed up hard. The pot I couldn’t see and her hands I couldn’t see, but then came a hiss and the bang of a pot lid, and for three seconds the roar of all hell boiling. Then it was quiet, and her face relaxed, and she nodded. Mattiny came into the light beside her, and lifted off the pot.
“Roger.”
“Yes, Morina.”
“This is going to hurt.”
“Then send them away, Biloxi and the others. I can’t stand much more. If I bawl or something, I don’t mind if it’s only you, but I don’t want anybody else to see it.”
“There’s nobody here but me.”
“Then go ahead.”
“It has to go on hot.”
“If that’s all, I’ll be all right.”
“Boiling hot.”
“I won’t mind.”
I almost hit the ceiling when she put it on, a whole big gob of it in the middle of the cloth, but I clenched my teeth and didn’t holler. When it was bound on tight it got worse, and she held my head to her breast, and I could feel her tears falling down over my cheek. After it had been on a few minutes it had to be changed, and each time was worse than the last, and each time she held me to her was sweeter than the last, and I could feel it stronger, the way she loved me. And then one time after she bound on some more of it, my hand gave three or four throbs, like a knife had been stuck in it and I told her I thought something had happened. She took off the bandage and washed off the salve, and looked. Then she told me to double up my hand as far as I could. Before I half moved my fingers it squirted across and hit the wall. “That’s it, Roger! That’s what it wanted!”
“Christ, but it stinks.”
“Never mind the stink, let it come!”
She bathed it and squeezed it and pulled strings out of it all that day. And then around sundown the pain, the fever, and the fear were all gone, and I sank down in a deep, wonderful sleep.
Around dawn I was thirsty, and reached out to pour myself a drink of ice water from the pitcher she had set on a little bench beside the bed. She came over and did it, and held the glass while I drank, and sat down and felt my head. “You slept nine hours.”
“I feel so much better.”
“Your hand hurt?”
“None any more. It’s better. I can feel it.”
“Later on I’ll bandage it.”
“Tough on you.”
“Oh, I’m all right. I caught some sleep in the chair, and Biloxi’s feeding me wonderful. Your breakfast’ll be along directly.”
“What do you call this dress?”
“Gingham.”
“Never saw you in that before.”
“I’ve been working.”
“Makes you look like a young girl.”
She smoothed my pillow and patted my cheek and gave me a little kiss on the forehead. I put my arm around her and half pulled her down beside me. We lay that way a long time, she running her fingers through my hair, me touching her and smelling her and feeling how warm and soft she was. I kissed her on the cheek, just a little brush of a kiss. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t come closer either. I kissed her again, a little nearer the mouth.
Outside, a board creaked in the hall. I opened my mouth to tell them to watch out, somebody was out there, probably the whole damned boarding house. But Mattiny went over and listened, so they knew about it.
I must have gone Under again, because next thing I knew a chill was going up my back like cold feathers had tickled it, from a sound in the room you’ll never forget if you hear it once, and in that God-awful country you hear it often: the rattle of a rattlesnake. It’s dry, like the rustle of old leaves, but it gets louder, and all of a sudden it’s going right into your belly, or wherever you keep your guts. I opened my eyes, and across the ring of light on the ceiling something was waving. I looked toward the lamp, and Morina’s face was right over it, white, and screwed up hard. The pot I couldn’t see and her hands I couldn’t see, but then came a hiss and the bang of a pot lid, and for three seconds the roar of all hell boiling. Then it was quiet, and her face relaxed, and she nodded. Mattiny came into the light beside her, and lifted off the pot.
“Roger.”
“Yes, Morina.”
“This is going to hurt.”
“Then send them away, Biloxi and the others. I can’t stand much more. If I bawl or something, I don’t mind if it’s only you, but I don’t want anybody else to see it.”
“There’s nobody here but me.”
“Then go ahead.”
“It has to go on hot.”
“If that’s all, I’ll be all right.”
“Boiling hot.”
“I won’t mind.”
I almost hit the ceiling when she put it on, a whole big gob of it in the middle of the cloth, but I clenched my teeth and didn’t holler. When it was bound on tight it got worse, and she held my head to her breast, and I could feel her tears falling down over my cheek. After it had been on a few minutes it had to be changed, and each time was worse than the last, and each time she held me to her was sweeter than the last, and I could feel it stronger, the way she loved me. And then one time after she bound on some more of it, my hand gave three or four throbs, like a knife had been stuck in it and I told her I thought something had happened. She took off the bandage and washed off the salve, and looked. Then she told me to double up my hand as far as I could. Before I half moved my fingers it squirted across and hit the wall. “That’s it, Roger! That’s what it wanted!”
“Christ, but it stinks.”
“Never mind the stink, let it come!”
She bathed it and squeezed it and pulled strings out of it all that day. And then around sundown the pain, the fever, and the fear were all gone, and I sank down in a deep, wonderful sleep.
Around dawn I was thirsty, and reached out to pour myself a drink of ice water from the pitcher she had set on a little bench beside the bed. She came over and did it, and held the glass while I drank, and sat down and felt my head. “You slept nine hours.”
“I feel so much better.”
“Your hand hurt?”
“None any more. It’s better. I can feel it.”
“Later on I’ll bandage it.”
“Tough on you.”
“Oh, I’m all right. I caught some sleep in the chair, and Biloxi’s feeding me wonderful. Your breakfast’ll be along directly.”
“What do you call this dress?”
“Gingham.”
“Never saw you in that before.”
“I’ve been working.”
“Makes you look like a young girl.”
She smoothed my pillow and patted my cheek and gave me a little kiss on the forehead. I put my arm around her and half pulled her down beside me. We lay that way a long time, she running her fingers through my hair, me touching her and smelling her and feeling how warm and soft she was. I kissed her on the cheek, just a little brush of a kiss. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t come closer either. I kissed her again, a little nearer the mouth.
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