Driving Blind Read Online Free PDF Page A

realized. Her hand grabbed his, tightly. “Go on,” she said.
    “Well …” Chris wound his story up on a spool,getting it ready in his mind. “Well, once upon a time—”
    “Oh, we heard
that
one before!” they all laughed. The laughter came back from the unseen wall of the room. Chris cleared his throat and started again.
    “Well, once upon a time there was a black castle in the woods—”
    He had his audience immediately. A castle was a darn nice thing to start with. It wasn’t a bad story he had in mind, and he would have told it all the way through, taking fifteen minutes or more to hang it out on a line in the dark bedroom air. But Vivian’s fingers were like an impatient spider inside his palm, and as the story progressed he became more aware of her than of the story people.
    “—an old witch lived in this black castle—”
    Vivian’s lips kissed him on the cheek. It was like all her kisses. It was like kisses before bodies were invented. Bodies are invented around about the age of twelve or thirteen. Before that there are only sweet lips and sweet kisses. There is a sweet something about such kisses you never find again after someone puts a body under your head.
    Chris didn’t have a body yet. Just his face. And, like every time Vivian had ever kissed him, he responded. After all, it was fun and it was as good as eating and sleeping and playing all kinds of games. Her lips were like a subtle sugar, and nothing else. For the past four years since he was eight, every time he met Vivian and that was usually once every month, because she livedon the far side of town, there would be ghost stories and kisses and subtle sugar.
    “—well, this witch in this castle—”
    She kissed him on the lips, momentarily crumbling the castle. About ten seconds later he had to build it up again.
    “—this witch in this castle had a beautiful young daughter named Helga. Helga lived in a dungeon and was treated very poorly by her evil old mother. She was very pretty and—”
    The lips returned. This time for a longer stay.
    “Go on with the story,” said Leo.
    “Yeah, hurry up,” said Shirley, perturbed.
    “—Ah,” said Chris, breaking away a little, his breath a bit funny. “—One day the girl escaped from the dungeon and ran out into the woods, and the witch shouted after her—”
    From there on the story got slower and slower, and wandered off in aimless, vague, and blundering directions. Vivian pressed close to him, kissing and breathing on his cheek as he told the halting tale. Then, very slowly, and with an architect’s wonderful ability, she began to build his body for him! The Lord said ribs and there were ribs. The Lord said stomach and there was stomach! The Lord said legs and there were legs! The Lord said something else and there was something else!
    It was funny finding his body under him so suddenly. For twelve years it had never been there. It was a pendulum under a clock, that body, and now Vivianwas setting it in motion, touching, urging, rocking it to and fro, until it swung in dizzy warm arcs under the machinery of the head. The clock was now running. A clock cannot run until the pendulum moves. The clock can be whole, ready, and intact and healthy, but until that pendulum is thrust into motion there is nothing but machinery without use.
    “—and the girl ran out into the woods—”
    “Hurry up, hurry up, Chris!” criticized Leo.
    It was like the story of the thing coming up the stairs, one by one, one by one. This whole evening, here, now, in the dark. But—different.
    Vivian’s fingers deftly plucked at the belt buckle and drew the metal tongue out, loosening it open.
    Now she’s at the first button.
    Now she’s at the second button.
    So
like
that old story. But this was a
real
story.
    “—so this girl ran into the woods—”
    “You said that before, Chris,” said Leo.
    Now she’s at the third button.
    Now she’s moved down to the fourth button, oh God, and now to the