I'd Know You Anywhere Page 0,5

of his ignorance.

“Average,” he said.

“Well someone has to be average,” said Claude, who was tall, but skinny and kind of pink all over—splotchy skin, pale, pale red hair, watery eyes that were permanently narrowed from years of staring at the hair that lay across his barber scissors. Everyone was always trying to put Walter in his place, keep him down, stop him from being what he might be. Even women, girls, seemed to be part of the conspiracy. Because, despite Walter’s good looks, he could not find a woman who wanted to go with him, not even on a single date. He couldn’t figure it out. Things would start out okay, he could get a conversation going. He read things, he knew things, he kept an interesting store of facts at his disposal. Claude’s Chuck Norris story, for example, became one of his anecdotes, although he added his own flourish, holding his thumb and forefinger out to show just how itty-bitty Chuck Norris was. That usually got a laugh, or at least a smile.

But then something would happen, he could never put his finger on what, and the girl’s face would close to him. It was a small town, and it soon seemed there wasn’t a girl in it who would consider going out with Walter Bowman. And on the rare occasion when a new family moved in, one with daughters, someone must have told them something, because they didn’t want to go with him either.

Then, one day, on an errand for his father, he saw a girl walking down the road just outside Martinsburg. It was hot, and she wore shorts over a lavender bathing suit, a one-piece. He liked that she wore a one-piece. Modest. He offered her a ride.

She hesitated.

“Wherever you’re going,” Walter added. “Door-to-door service. Truck’s air-conditioning is so cold, you’ll need a sweater.”

It was cold. He saw what it did to her breasts when she got in. They were large for such a short girl, not that he let his eyes linger. He looked only once.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“The Rite Aid,” she said. “I want to buy some makeup, but my mother says I can’t. It’s my money, isn’t it?”

“You don’t need makeup.” He meant it as a compliment, yet she flushed, balled up her fists as if to fight him. “I mean, you’re lucky, you look good without it, but you’re right. It’s your money, you should be able to do with it what you want.” He couldn’t quite stop himself. Maybe that was the problem, that he just couldn’t stop talking soon enough. “Although you shouldn’t buy anything illegal with it, drugs or whatever. Just say no.”

She rolled her eyes. She was a girl, not as old as he had thought when he first picked her up. Maybe no more than fifteen, but she clearly considered herself more sophisticated than Walter. Was that it? Was that why girls like this were forever eeling away from him? There were some girls—plain, slow witted—who didn’t mind his company, but Walter couldn’t get interested in just anybody. He was good-looking. He should be with someone as good-looking or better-looking. Everyone knew that was how it worked. A beautiful woman could go with the ugliest man on the planet, but a man had to date above himself, or be shamed. He deserved someone special.

“I smoke pot,” this girl announced.

He didn’t believe her. “You like it?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard, as if that wasn’t the point, liking it or not liking it. “Yeah,” she said, as if it were a guess. She probably didn’t know the difference between average or median either, although Walter did now. He had looked it up. He always looked things up when he didn’t know them. No one had to be stupid. Stupid was a choice. He was forever learning things. He knew all the US state capitals and he was working on world capitals.

“What’s it like?” he asked.

“You don’t know?”

“No, it’s not something I’ve gotten around to.”

“You wanna find out? I got some in my purse.”

He didn’t, actually, but he wanted to stay in this girl’s company a while longer.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Kelly. With a y, but I’m thinking of changing it to an i. There are three Kellys in my class at school. What’s your name?”

“Walt.” He had never called himself that, but why not try it out, change his luck. Within the hour, they were in a little cove off the river, and she was