An Hour in the Darkness by Michael Bailey Page B

was frost on the ground as well. I swear there was. God, I wanted to cry more than anything if they’d only just let me, okay?
    Anyway, after Ronnie finished work she walked towards the bus stop opposite the market and I sort of waltzed up to her. I think I traversed up to her, if you really want to know. I could tell by the look of her face that she was real surprised to see me. She sure looked pretty though. Her face was white and pinched with cold, and I thought I was going to be sick. There was anguish near my heart and all that kind of thing. It looked for a second or two like Ronnie was going to scream and so I told her, quickly, that I’d been waiting for five hours. Ronnie said I looked like I was dying and I said that was funny really because that was how I felt.
    Then I handed her a big line.
    â€œCan I walk you home, little girl?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “Go away.”
    Ronnie lowered her head and marched away, brushing past me into the bargain, if you don’t mind. She left me standing on the pavement feeling like a right lemon. Anyway, I ran after her, I really did. I sort of trailed at her side while she was walking; that fast kind of walk that is almost a run. I was dead cute, I admit it. My hands were clasped behind my back, and I was bowing and stooping like I was her goddamn butler or something. Christ, I sure was laying it on the line for her. Ronnie was worth it though.
    â€œI went to Old John a while back,” I said.
    It was an ice-breaker, that’s all.
    â€œI don’t care. Leave me alone.”
    â€œI met God. He looked a hell of a lot like Michael Caine. We chewed the fat for a while and then I got away from him. I ran down that slippery mountain they call home. I saw a girl with a red balloon. She reminded me a lot of Jenny. Listen, Ronnie, you’re not going to believe this, I swear, but old God never even broke a sweat when that kid’s balloon floated off in the sky. Boy, you sure shouldn’t have to see a thing like that, you know. It made me feel pretty depressed afterwards, I can tell you.”
    I was gasping like a marathon runner or something. Old Ronnie was walking so damn fast, she was almost sprinting, and I was struggling to keep up and talk to her at the same time.
    â€œI’ve got to get my bus. I’m late as it is. That market’s so fucking busy.”
    I sure didn’t like to hear old Ronnie swearing like that. Listen, I knew I wanted to marry Ronnie – and pretty soon – and so I knew I would have to tell her that I didn’t like women swearing. Jenny swore once and Dad just about hit the roof. She just giggled afterwards though, like it was all very amusing, and everything. She used the
F word, for Chrissake. Jenny didn’t even know what the word meant, for crying out loud; she’d just heard some kids at school shouting it. That’s the problem. You can protect your kid all you want – you know, making it magical – but as soon as you let them out the door someone is going to teach them the F word.
    I swear I wanted Jenny to stay at home for the rest of her life, just the two of us. But it can’t be like that, can it? And I understand that now, of course I do. You can’t lock kids up for ever so that no one will ever teach them a swear word. And you can’t follow them down the streets for about a million miles trying to keep your hands over their goddamn ears so they don’t hear terrible things. Believe me, I’ve tried.
    â€œHey listen, Ronnie, don’t swear, okay?” I said.
    â€œYou make anybody swear. I haven’t met anyone like you.”
    â€œIs that good?” I said.
    â€œNo, it’s not good, it’s really not good.”
    â€œIt sounds good. It sounds like I’m sort of different, you know.”
    â€œIt’s not good. Please leave me alone.”
    It was time to play the big hand. I knew that. I should have warned her, I suppose,