THE OLD ICE DOWN 

THE BACK STUNT

By Patricia Abbott

     The day it happened, they were all together—just like always. It was December 21st, the last day of school before Christmas vacation. It had snowed more than eight inches the night before, and the sidewalks were still snow-covered. Nat fell for the fourth time about a block from Ray's house. He was so loosey-goosy, he never even bruised.

      "Jeez, Nat " Ray yelled over the gusting wind, "Do those shoes have silk soles?"  Nat groaned loudly in response and when Polly ran over to give him a hand up, he lifted his shoulders high enough to stuff an ice ball down her jacket. She shook it loose immediately and began walking away, her shoulders hunching.

        "Ah, come on, Pol," Nat yelled into the wind. "I didn't even get any skin. Stop pruding out!"

      “I’m not playing that game. I didn't like it when I was nine and I don't like it now. Cop a feel off someone else! Isn't that what you do when you hook up at the mall?"

      "Okay, okay," Nat pleaded. "You can stuff snow down my pants if you want.” He held out the waistband of his jeans invitingly, raising and lowering his eyebrows. Although Ray and Craig sniggered obligingly, Polly frowned and stepped away again. 

      "Come on, you guys," Ray said. "Why do you want to fight on the day before vacation? It's too fucking cold to waste good breath!" He took off then, Craig at his heels. After giving Nat a severe look, Polly followed. She could still keep up with them. They all skidded to an abrupt stop at Ray’s door where he worked the key into the half-frozen lock, his teeth chattering. The door gave way suddenly and they nearly fell inside in a heap.

      One of Santa's elves had set up shop in Ray's house. Every horizontal surface boasted a snowman, a Santa, or some kind of Christmas bauble. Boughs of artificial greens festooned the mantle, the railings, and the doorways. Red velvet swagged every window. Bells jingled each time a door closed. Ray laughed when he saw them gawking.

      "Mom's a little off over Christmas," he explained, fingering the antlers on one of the golden reindeer guarding the fireplace. “Don’t you remember?” He picked up the reindeer, and honking the music from Psycho, chased Craig around the table. 

      "I think she's horny for things with horns," Nat said, sinking onto the couch.

       Ray pulled four Pepsis from the fridge and dragged a large bag of chips out of the cabinet. The four of them slumped in front of the TV, mindlessly surfing till they ended up with Jerry Springer. They watched silently as one of his typical situations played out. The show concluded with a melee, followed by a moralistic summary from Springer. 

      "Springer’s a little too real," Craig said, finishing up the last of the chips. “His show could be any holiday at my house.” They exchanged glances as he got up and walked back to the kitchen where he began rooting around in the fridge. "Got any pizza," he yelled over Springer’s parting words. “Never mind, I found it." He yanked a Tombstone box out of the freezer and began sucking on an icy piece.

      "You eat it frozen?" Ray asked. "You’re a sick shit, aren’t you?"

      "It’s like a popsicle. A pepperoni and cheese popsicle. What could be better than that?"

      "Is it really too much trouble to put it in the microwave for a few minutes?" Nat asked.

      "Not everyone has a microwave, asshole," Craig replied. "It takes a lot longer in an oven and I don't usually have time. Some of us work! Some of us fix our own meals!” The other three looked at each other uneasily. “Anyway,” he continued, seeing their worried faces, “I'm only funning you. The Trpovski’s do have a microwave. Some Dad-of–the-month ripped it off someone last year. Got himself a lot of brownie points from the Momster, too." He opened the door of the Russo's microwave, tossed in the pizza, and punched up a few minutes. He watched the pie rotate for a second and then he stepped outside, lighting a butt. His friends watched the smoke float on the frigid air.

      "Am I crazy or what was that about?" Nat asked, looking at the other two. Ray raised his eyebrows and Polly shrugged. They tried a few more channels on TV, but all they could find was “Menstrating Women” on Lifetime. The skinny redhead and big blonde were bitching as usual.

      “Like there’s not a jillion shows about men on TV,” Polly had scolded Nat when he named it. “And you’re not even saying the word right. It’s menstruating.” 

      Nat shuddered. “Just keep it away from me! I don’t know how you stand it. Running down your legs all the time.”

      “Like you don’t have that thing hanging…”

      "What is it with you people today?" Ray said now, jumping up. "Why the fuck do you all want to get into it every five seconds when it's Christmas? This is the single greatest moment, too. We have two full weeks ahead of us.” He walked out to the kitchen, pulled a bag of ice out of the freezer and quickly stuck a cube down Craig's shirt as he walked in the kitchen door. "Cool off, man.” Then he wrinkled his nose, “Man, you stinkkkk!  My old lady’s gonna think we were smoking in here.”

      Craig yanked his shirt out of his pants, shaking the cube loose. In one quick motion, the piece of frozen pizza still sitting on the counter went down Ray's shirt. 

      "Shit," Ray yelled. "That's even colder than ice. Did anyone take chemistry? Is it possible to be colder than ice?" None of them had taken chemistry. “It makes some kinda sense to me that tomato sauce could freeze colder than water.”

      "That's what comes from us all taking ‘Chemistry in Our World,’" Nat said. "Someone should sign up for the geek courses to help out in times like this. Collecting leaves for a scrapbook isn’t gonna get us very far in life. How are we ever gonna answer the big questions?" No one was listening by the end of Nat’s speech; they were, in fact, watching Ray, who had pulled the entire bag of ice out of the freezer. He took a tarnished silver ice cream scoop out of the drawer and began hammering off pieces. 

      "Just what are you planning to do with that?" Polly asked. He turned and flashed her his goofy grin, tossing her a hunk of ice that she let fall in front of her. She got up and began looking around for her book bag. “If you guys think….” she began and then shut her mouth like a cartoon character.

      In what seemed like a choreographed move, Nat and Craig moved toward the two doors, neither of them saying a word. Only the faint sounds of “Designing Women” broke the silence. Polly looked around a little wildly and made the desperate choice of attempting to run through Craig, the smaller of the boys. Though tall for a girl, she was far too slender to knock him down. He stopped her in one motion, grabbing both her arms. 

      "God, Polly, you're damned uptight today," Nat whispered in her ear as he moved past her head to grab her feet. "We're just playing with you." 

      With Polly captured, the two boys swung her back and forth until the three of them were laughing. Only Ray kept a straight face. He was still standing with the bag of ice at the sink, barely watching them, intent on his task.

      "When did you grow this long, Poll?" Nat asked. "You didn't used to sag in the middle." Polly laughed but continued her struggle to get loose. The boys were not done with her yet. Back and forth. Back and forth.

      “Your butt is cleaning the floor better than a mop,” Craig observed. “Boy, have I got a kitchen floor for you!” She managed to get one leg free and neatly clipped Nat in the knee. “Ouch,” he said, his smile fading for a second. He recaptured her leg, his grip firmer this time.

      “You’re pinching, Craig,” she complained, struggling again. “What the hell…”

      Ray continued to stand at the counter silently pounding out ice. His little piles totaled twenty or more. He dropped the bag in the sink and turned.

      "This reminds me of how you used to stockpile snowballs when we built forts," Nat told him. "Nobody was ever better prepared for battle. I'd always start throwing too soon, remember? I'd run out of ammo in seconds and you'd still be firing away. Remember, Polly?"

      “How bout letting me down now?” Polly said quietly, working hard to get her tone right.

 "Seems a shame to waste good ice," Ray said. He snatched one chunk up, and reaching out, shoved it down Nat's back. Nat half-dropped Polly as he squirmed with the cold. Ray fired off a short volley in their direction, the pieces landing harmlessly around them.

      "Think of something new to do with it," Craig suggested quietly, his voice a little hoarse. Ray scratched his head playfully as Craig and Nat began to pick up the pace. Polly swung out into the room, her blouse loose now, one of her socks coming off in Craig’s hand. He tossed it aside, giving her bare foot a tickle.

      "That's enough," she said. "I'm getting dizzy. I’m tir…" She struggled to free a hand to tuck in her blouse. “Look, it’s starting to burn, guys.” Her voice sounded pathetic despite her best efforts. Weak.

      Ray kneeled down on the floor and, almost tenderly, rubbed the ice across her face. "That any better?" he asked, in a croon. She looked up, confused. This was a voice she hadn't heard before. It was how you talked to…to…she didn’t know what?

      "Not my face, stupid!” she finally said, trying to kick loose. “It’s my wrists. Let me go. It's not funny anymore." One leg swung loose wildly, but Nat recovered it, smiling at her as if she’d approve. 

      Once again, as though the scene had been rehearsed, the two boys, working in tandem, stopped swinging Polly. Ray moved in with another chunk of ice. The music coming from the Taco Bell commercial on TV seemed to fade away as Ray stuck his hand down her blouse and rubbed a piece of ice between her breasts. 

      Polly screamed, but it was an ineffectual scream. It had neither the pitch nor the volume to bring things to a halt. And none of the boys even heard it over their own raspy breathing, over their own pounding hearts. So she sunk her teeth deep into Ray's right calf, the closest part of him. She felt him stiffen even as her teeth dug in.   

      "She fucking bit my leg!" Ray yelled. He said it a second time, surprised. "Polly fucking bit my leg!" Angry now, he stood and limped over to the counter, grabbing a bigger piece of ice. Both Nat and Craig, still holding Polly, began to talk to him.

      "Come on now, Ray!" 

      "It's just a game, Ray!" 

      "Let's do something else!" 

      "This ice thing is old!"  

      Although the swinging had stopped, although both boys had called for caution, neither released her; if anything, their hold tightened. Polly, sick with fear, felt vomit in her throat and began to choke. She was sobbing, but no one noticed. The boys’ eyes remained fixed on Ray. 

      "Hey, Polly Dolly." Kneeling again, Ray crooned the childhood nickname, his face inches from hers. Almost tenderly, he unfastened the belt on her jeans and pulled down the zipper. Reaching inside her panties, he took the piece of ice and inserted it deep inside her, deeper than she knew there was. She could feel his still warm fingers as well as the cube of ice. A violent shudder passed through her body, but Ray, looking over at Nat, at Craig, didn’t notice.

      “He shoots, he scores!” he yelled triumphantly.

      Craig and Nat felt the tremor. “Jeez, what was that?” Craig asked. Nat shook his head. Silently, they placed her on the floor and stepped away.

      Ray, misunderstanding his question, stood up and laughed. "Old Bethany , remember her, loved that little trick. She's the one who thought it up. It was our Saturday night special, though it works better in the summer." He held out a hand to Polly, but she was looking somewhere else. 

      "Geez, Ray, you scared me shitless. I was worried you were going to freak out for a minute there." Nat patted Polly on the head and began to laugh nervously. "I was scared you were going to do something a lot worse than third- date stuff." 

      "But you held onto her anyway, huh! Not knowing what I might do, you kept your head! Good ole Nat!" Ray laughed and walked over the counter. "I'd never hurt our Polly. We're buds." Using his hand, he swept the counter clean of the remaining ice, which clattered in the aluminum sink. He turned on the disposal and they listened as it ground the evidence—the weapon. “Sharpens the blades,” he told them, smiling approvingly.

      “You should put something on that bite,” Craig advised. Trying to warn him off,  Nat held a finger to his lips. But Ray’s anger had dissipated and he didn’t seem to hear him. He was looking in the fridge for another soda, something to eat. He was starving apparently.

      Polly stood up. Dully, she looked around, and spotting her book bag, took it and moved toward the door. Nobody moved to stop her this time. Hatless, gloveless, coatless, she walked out the door and down the driveway. They watched for a minute as she struggled not to fall on the ice.

      “And there she goes!” Nat whispered to himself, as she took a tumble at the very end of the drive. He started for the door, but then thought better of it. “I think she’s pissed. She looks pissed.”

      Craig, standing closest to the door, pushed it shut with his foot. "So what's she so mad about? We've been putting ice down her—back— for years." He looked at Nat and then to Ray for a response.

      "Fuck, if I know!" Ray answered. "Polly’s always been screwy. What she needs is a good lay. Someone needs to put something warmer than ice up there." They all nodded, swallowing their usual laughs.

      “It’s hard for any of us to think of her as a girlfriend though,” Craig said thoughtfully. “After all these years anyway. She’s a bud.”

      "Think she'll say anything?" Nat asked a minute later—his eyes fixed on the TV screen.

      "About what?" Ray asked, picking up the remote.

 

Copyright 2006 by Patricia Abbott

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Patricia Abbott has published stories in journals such as Fourteen Hills, Inkwell, The Potomac Review and The Portland Review. Having come over to the dark side now, forthcoming stories will appear in Shred of Evidence and SHOTS.