Heading out of town he rested on a bench that overlooked the river. Closed his eyes and took in the sun like a snake. Drifted about in a light nap till the sound of voices stirred him and he peeled his lids open.
A group of boys sat huddled under the bridge below him, circled around like men squatting at a fire. Rigby watched them a moment. One of the boys held the magazine out and the folded page of a centerfold girl fell open. A hushed roar spread through the boys. They punched each other’s arms. Rigby stood and made his way to a narrow footpath. The grass was waist high and grasshoppers sprung from everywhere. The boys were taken with their prize and did not see Rigby approaching. When Rigby spoke they all startled. The one holding the magazine snapped it behind his back. He was maybe fourteen years old with short blond hair.
Whatch yeh got there behind yeh? Rigby asked.
Each face was flushed in color and their eyes wide. They wore white T-shirts tucked into blue jeans rolled at the cuffs.
Nothin mister, said the one.
Bullshit, said Rigby. Hand me that magazine.
I can’t. It ain’t mine to give.
Then yeh shouldn’t have it in the first place, yeh little shit. Give it here now. Ain’t goin a ask it again.
The boy sat on the magazine. It’s my brother’s, he said. I can’t let you have it.
Patience ran out of Rigby and he stepped into the circle of boys and reached behind the one and took his thin wrist in his hand. The other boys scooted away like rippled water.
Yeh give me that goddamn magazine boy.
Snatched the magazine from the boy’s hand and glanced at the cover. A curvy redhead lay naked on her stomach across a bed with a foot kicked into the air. A charming little grin. Emerald eyes. The boy protested, and when he stood to retrieve the magazine, Rigby hit him in the mouth with an open hand, sending the boy to sit in the dirt. The others stayed seated.
This is filth, said Rigby. Ain’t fer boys.
He folded the magazine and stuck it in his back pocket. Turned and walked out onto the path again. The hit boy called something after him but Rigby didn’t hear it and he didn’t turn around.
That night, with the sound of rain on the roof and thunder in the hills, Rigby searched the magazine for the picture he liked best. When he found it he laid the spine open on the table for studying and went to his doll. He chose a picture of the auburn cover girl lying in bed with a silk sheet draped about her hips, just covering the nipple of her breast. He laid the doll on the mattress and flung the blanket over her rigid hip then stood back and cut his eyes between the picture and the doll. He arranged the blanket in several ways. It never looked right. Frustration got the better of him and he took up the magazine and opened the stove door and pitched the magazine in. A thin tongue of green fire caught the page’s edge and began to lick its way down. He could see the fire’s light shifting on the glossy image of the woman’s body through the open door. Changed his mind and reached into the fire and hauled the burning magazine from it. He let it drop to the floor where he stomped out the flame. Blackened pieces of ash wheeled like paper bats.
He chose another picture and tried the doll against that but finally went back to the original. Pulled down a sheet at the window to drape over her hip and turned down the wick in the oil lamp and resolved that it looked pretty good. He had a box of wigs near the bed and he fished through it till he found a red one and he put that on her. The centerfold’s name was Mary Belle. Spoke that name quietly as he looked at the burned photograph. Got undressed and for the first time said her name.