Jenny
was a pretty girl. Like a movie star from the forties. Susan Hayward. Myrna
Loy. That kind of pretty. Her boyfriend, Don, had a face that would make a mother cry. But he had money, and he spent it, freely, on Jenny.
Jenny
grew up in foster homes. A turbulent childhood, to say the least. It scarred
her; beautiful as she was on the outside, inside, she was a mess. Like a swirling hole that never
stopped and nothing could ever fill.
Don
thought he could fill that hole. He bought her clothes and jewelry. He bought
her a black Miata. What Jenny wanted, Jenny got. Maybe Don had a hole, as
well; if she said, jump, Don would say, how high.
He
wasn’t much to look at, but he was a charmer, and he had money. Don used to
hang around the clubs, and around the bands, for the girls, of course. The
girls would hang around Don for the same reason the band members did. Don was
in what you might call “sales.” Whatever you were looking for, he either had it
or he could get it.
He
was a busy man, enterprising, some would say, and Don had a different girl
every night of the week. Until he met Jenny, that is.
She
was very, very pretty, and Don was crazy about her. His time and attention all went to Jenny, and it poured through her
like a sieve.
One
night we were at Falco’s, Jenny and Don came up to the table. We’re getting
married, they told us. Don said, Honey, show ‘em your ring, and Jenny looked at him and sighed. Don talked
about wedding plans; Jenny yawned and said, “let’s go.”
They left, and we shook our heads. We gave it a month. Maybe two at the most.
The economy’s getting better, they say. That’s news if you live around here. A straight-line storm came through our town. Left homes and lives in splinters. You
do whatever you can, sometimes. Sometimes, whatever you have to.
Jenny and Don are still together. I saw them the other day, I was at Sweeney’s, in the drive-through. There’s a motel across the street. A by-the-hour place.
A man
knocked at one of the rooms. Jenny answered, barely dressed. They chatted for a moment. She waved him in and nodded before she closed the door.
Don was outside on his phone. He checked his watch and nodded back. Still in “sales”, still
the go-to guy.
I wondered now when he said jump, if she would say, how high, and I smiled and
thought, poor Jenny.
Maybe
I have a hole, as well.