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He never liked looking at dead bodies, all the dead bodies over there, dead bodies in a muddy hole, on the wire, one time just sitting against a tree, a Kraut with half his head blown away, you could see the brains inside.Suppose you took the brains out of a man, what was left of him? He remembered the leaving, the train station, the straw hats the women were wearing, the long dresses, how they waved white handkerchiefs at the boys hanging out the train windows, the mothers, the sisters, the girlfriends, all those women on the platform waving at them while he had no one not even a girl because his girl had moved west with her folks, no one at the station to wave a white handkerchief at him, then the next thing he knows he's behind a machine gun at Chateau-Thierry, the sandbags all around them, him on the ground on his side with his head against a stone wall, his eyes on the sights, the other man Nunzio from Brooklyn, the blanket screen in front of them, the barrel of the gun through. That was just about all the sex I got for the rest of the week. I played with my pussy every night until I came, but I didn’t join in with Mom and Dad. They didn’t invite me, and I didn’t ask. I began to realize that whatever fun they had with other people; they compartmentalized their lives so that that kind of fun was separate from what they had together. I also felt fairly certain I would be asked to join in again, but not right away.Friday seemed to take forever to arrive. The past weekend had simply whetted my appetite for more. Bobby came over and picked me up before dinner and we went over to the mall. We had some pizza and went to the movies, then we got into his Buick (it is so unfair I don’t have a car!) and Bobby drove us out into the country. We pulled off onto a deserted road, and a couple of miles later, he pulled off into a deserted path and doused the lights. “Let’s get in back!” he suggested.Bobby was about as subtle as a rock. We got out and climbed into the back.
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