For Now, Not Always The sun on top of the mountain speared orange shadows through the spruce trees. The orange shadows flashed through the window into the yellow walls like a will-o-the-wisp. Tirza scraped her fingernails down the screen. Goose bumps prickled her skin. She gritted her teeth and flopped down on the bed. Her slip clung to her legs and slid up around her thighs. She slugged the pillow and laid her head on it. She could smell the cleanness of the pillow case and the staleness of the feathers. She licked her dry lips and dropped her hands over her head. She grabbed the rungs on the headboard. Her ring clanked against the cold metal. "Oh hell," she muttered. She looked at her watch that lay on the chair by the bed. "Twenty to seven," she read. She picked up the watch and put it on. She sat up and looked at the room. The yellow pipes dripped grey water on the maroon carpet, leaving black splotches. The grey concrete showed through the carpet where cigarettes had burned. She looked at the painted black chest with the gold handles. It was the only thing in the room that wasn't spattered with cigarette burns. She glanced at the vanity. She snickered as she stared at the fancy whisky bottles that decorated it. "Whisky bottles, whisky bottles," she said, "everywhere you look." She stood up and walked over to the closet. She snatched her blue robe off a nail and put it on. She did up the buttons as she opened the door and walked out. Her bare feet flapped on the concrete as she walked down the hall. The lights hung stiffly on their link chains and dropped circles of yellow on the floor. She pushed the triangular flap on the garbage can as she walked past. She could hear it swinging as she turned and went down the stairs. The black phone hung on the wall in the landing between the two staircases. She flipped the spiral cord as she stepped up. It snapped against the wall and shimmied. Tirza looked at the poster on Barry's door. "Ketchum Wagon Days September 12-16," red letters announced. "Big deal," she thought and walked over to the next door. She slapped it. The buckled paint cracked and fell on the floor. "Gene, you awake?" she shouted as she slapped the door again. She leaned closer to the door and listened. She could hear herself breathing. She grabbed the knob and turned it. The lock clicked, and she peeked inside. Gene lay on the top bunk. His feet hung over the end. 8 His black hair squashed in the pillow. Wiry ends sprouted out on top. Tirza walked over and stood by the bed. His long black lashes stretched down from his eyelids and lay on the white skin that stretched smoothly over his features. His bushy eyebrows matted together at the bridge of his nose. His full lips were drawn tightly closed as though he had been pouting. "Gene," she whispered as she laid her hand on his bare chest. His eyes fluttered and opened. "God," he muttered, "Is it that time already?" "'Fraid so," she answered. "Hand me my glasses," he said. She reached down to the bottom bunk and picked up the black sun glasses. She slid them up his nose and hooked them across his ears. "C'mon," she said. "We're going to be late." "I don't give a damn," he blared. "I'm sick of picking up the dirty linen and cleaning the damn powder rooms." "So am I," she said. "But we gotta have the money." "I don't," he mumbled. "I know it," she said. "But I do. I gotta go to college, and if you don't lift the linen barrels and haul the cots, I'll have to. So come on. Anyway, who'd I talk to if you weren't there?" "Mattey," he chuckled "The loneliness may be killing me, but I'm not that hard up. You at least have an intelligent thought once in a while." "I'm flattered," he said and looked at her. She reached down on the bunk and picked up a pack of cigarettes and matches. "Have a smoke," she said, as she shook out a cigarette. "Maybe you'd feel better." "Thought you didn't like smoking," he commented as he lit it and blew smoke in her face. "I don't," she said. "But you do." He stared at her green eyes. His hand reached over and stroked her blonde hair. She flushed, but didn't move. "You've always got an answer," he said, "haven't you?" "For any of your questions!" she mimicked. He laughed and touched her cheek. "Are you going into town tonight?" "No," she said. "Do you want to go?" "I don't drink," she stammered. "I know, but would ya like to go?" "Yes." "O.K.," he said. "I get off at 10:00. We'll go as soon as we've changed. Isn't it your day off tomorrow, too?" he asked as he dragged on his cigarette. "Yes." "Good. We can live it up then," he said. "What time is it?" "Three minutes to seven," she said. 9