We hooked up with Meatnose in junior high. Billy felt sorry for him because he didn’t have any friends and I had such a bad crush on Billy I’d befriend the devil himself, if it meant hanging out with the curly haired hunk of my dreams. Like a spin-off of the three Musketeers, we bonded, acquiring an unspoken motto: all for Meatnose and Meatnose for Meatnose.
Meatnose was a rich kid raised by the domestic help. One day, he invited us over for supper. We found the snoring cook cuddled up with her booze on the floor in the pantry so Meatnose baked us a frozen pizza. He divvied it up at the kitchen table serving our share on a paper towel. “One for Billy, one for Darla, and the rest for me,” he said, eating off the pan.
After supper, he led us to the laundry room and pulled a bottle of vodka out from behind the washer. “It’s Cook’s emergency stash,” he announced.
We passed it around until we got featherbrained. Afterwards, Meatnose replaced what we drank with water.
Lured by the temptation of snacks, drink and no adult supervision, Billy and I practically lived at Meatnose’s. We had our good times but as they say: nothing comes for free. We regularly paid our dues by babysitting a wasted Meatnose and getting him tucked into bed before his dad finished operating on brains for the day. Needless to say, Billy and I found ourselves not so disappointed when his dad got hired at Mayo Clinic. They moved away in our senior year and life, as we knew it, would never be the same.
Billy and I jumped off the platonic plateau we’d been tiptoeing around on. I was pregnant when we got married. We bought a cabin on Lake Superior, raised a wonderful son, Mark, and were happily approaching our twenty-fifth anniversary when Meatnose came back to town flaunting a young bride.
An arctic blast whisked past the snow covered couple as Billy invited them into our cabin. Meatnose, already reeking of booze, set down a jug of rum and a twelve pack of Coke on the kitchen table. He slipped off his chook. His hairline had slunk to the back of his head enhancing his bulbous snout Crows feet crowded around his red eyes. His wife brushed off her slim figure and stomped the snow off her boots onto the hardwood floor. She unwound her head wrap and a swarthy mane fell over her shoulders.
“Darla and Billy, I’d like you to meet Lydia,” Meatnose said, grabbing her butt. “Is she a hottie or what, guys?”
Lydia slapped his hand. Her creamy complexion gave way to angry wind-burnt cheeks. “Cut that out, you big perv,” she screeched.
“She’s a spit-fire and I love her for it,” Meatnose said. Bear-hugging her, he plucked her off the floor.
“Put me down you freakin’ lug.”
“Put her down, Meatnose,” Billy said. “I’ll take your coats and Darla will make drinks. How’s that sound?”
He dropped her like a hot potato. She slipped in a puddle of melted snow and fell. Clasping onto her ankle, she rocked and moaned. “I think it’s broken,” she said.
“Got a glass, Darla?” Meatnose asked, directing his attention to the rum on the table.
“Got any compassion, Meatnose?” I said.
Billy and I pulled Lydia to her feet. “Owie!” she moaned.
Billy scooped her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. He untied her boot and examined the ankle. It had swelled up like a balloon. “It hurts so much,” she said. “Would you take me to the emergency room, Billy?”
“I’m your husband, dammit. I’ll take you,” Meatnose said.
“You’re not driving anywhere in your condition,” Billy told him.
“Up your’s, Billy. I’ll do what the hell I want.”
“You can come with us, Meatnose, but you’re not driving,” Billy said.
“Oh, the hell with you two. I’ll stay here and do some catching up with Darla.”
Billy whisked Lydia out the door before Meatnose had a chance to change his mind.
Meatnose began pounding the rum and Cokes. “I betcha Billy’ll try to get into her pants just to get back at me,” he said, with a goofy smirk.
I hadn’t drunk liquor in years but suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to get plastered. I mixed myself a dandy and choked on the first swallow.
“Is everything always about you, Meatnose? And – what the hell you talking about, anyways?”
“You could’ve floored me with a feather when I heard you two got hitched,” he said. “I would’ve never screwed you, Darla, if I knew. I thought Billy was giving me a sign when he left the party that night.”
“A sign?” I cringed as the dark memory, of what I had fought so hard to erase, started slithering back.
“Yeah. Approval – to get my little going-away-to Minnestosa-present from you.”
“He got sick on that crap you two were smoking, you idiot! If he ever knew what happened you’d be a dead man right now.”
I took another swig from my glass. The heat racing down my throat chased the blood bubbling through my veins. My mind swirled back to that ugly morning a quarter of a century ago, to the pounding head pain caused by the drug he must have slipped into my drink, to waking up and finding myself laying naked next to his stinking body.
Just thinking about it, sent my heart into a pounding frenzy. My lungs felt heavy – I couldn’t breathe. I got up and ran to the patio doors. Sliding the glass open, I burst through the snow rushing in at me. Gasping, I trudged towards the sound of the angry water crashing into a nearby precipice. The wind pricked at my skin like icy wool but I didn’t care. Air. I needed wide open air. Nearing the edge of the cliff, a gust blew me backwards. I lost my footing. Only a few feet of snow covered ground stood between me and eternity. Trembling and wheezing, I got myself up.
Meatnose came up from behind waving something in my face. It was a framed picture of Mark, wearing his white coat. “The kid’s a doctor?” he asked, swaying like the pines.
I jerked it out of his hand. “In…tern.”
“You never knew my mother, Darla. He has her eyes,” he said. “Maybe I oughta meet him.”
“Hell…you…will!”
I pictured Billy cradling Mark in his arms in the delivery room and the two with their heads together designing their car for the local soapbox derby. I pictured them rough housing with a basketball in the driveway and the proud look on Billy’s face when Mark announced his acceptance to med school. An eerie calm lifted the weight off my chest. Air—beautiful air--rushed into every nook and cranny of my body. Suddenly, my hands sprung into Meatnose’s heartless chest, shoving him into the raging night. He screamed bloody murder as he plummeted out of our lives, into the icy jaws of Lake Superior.
Like a rotten piece of meat, she spit him out in the spring.
Copyright ©2005, Diane Dahlstrom All Rights Reserved