Pistol Poets

“Professor?”

“It’s me, Gi

Shuffling on the other side, scratching. “Professor?” Dazed.

“It’s Professor Morgan.”

He heard the lock work. He pushed at the door. It opened an inch then stopped. He looked in. Gi

“Gi

Her head flopped. She reached, draped her arms around the toilet bowl, pulled herself out of the way.

Morgan went in, knelt next to her. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He took her in his arms, eased her down onto the tile. Her faced turned to his.

Morgan’s eyes grew wide. He stifled a gasp. Both her eyes were swollen and purple. Dried blood from her nose and the corners of her mouth.

“Professor…”

“I’m here. It’ll be okay.” Dear God. Morgan’s eyes misted. He forced his voice not to choke. “I’ve got you.”

“I think I need some… a doctor.”

“Yes. I’ll take care of it.”

Gi

“Don’t talk, Gi

“He said he knew about the… drugs…” She tried to pick her head up, neck limp, eyes unfocused.

“Take it easy. Just be still.”

Morgan ran to the bedside phone. He had to dial three times with shaking hands before he got the 911 operator.

The paramedics seemed to take forever but finally found them in the bathroom, Morgan cradling Gi

By the time Morgan got to the hospital, they’d already taken Gi

He paced.

Finally, a nurse came and told him that Gi

She thinks I did that to her. Morgan felt sick in the pit of his belly. This must happen all the time. Violent parents, abusive spouses. He fell down the stairs. She ran into a doorknob. Isn’t that how it is in TV movies?

Morgan went to the men’s room, splashed water on his cheeks and in his eyes. The memory of Gi

He went back to the nurses’ station, tried to appear benign. “Will I be able to see her soon?”

“It will be a while yet.” The nurse was tight-lipped, didn’t look at him. Shuffled papers into charts as she spoke. “I’ll notify you if she wants visitors.”

Morgan noted the if.

He sat at the end of a line of hard, molded plastic chairs. The sick and injured passed before him, two hours dragging his eyelids down into a doze.

“Mr. Morgan.”

His head jerked up, eyes focusing on the nurse.

She said, “You can go back and see her, but she’s still a little groggy. The doctor gave her a mild sedative.”

“Thank you.”

He followed the nurse back, and she pointed behind a plastic curtain. Gi

Her eyes flickered open. “Professor?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice flat, eyes dark.

Morgan couldn’t imagine what she was sorry about. “How are you?” The dumbest question in the world.

She told him, her voice small, each word precise like she was reading the ingredients to a complex recipe. They’d x-rayed her skull, nothing busted. No concussion. One cracked rib. Two stitches below her left ear. One tooth knocked loose. An orthodontist would have to be called in, but no complications were expected.

“What happened?”

She shook her head.

“You don’t have to talk. Rest.”

“He was looking for you,” Gi

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He was crazy, asking about drugs and A

A chill crept over Morgan. “What else?”

“I thought he’d ask about the peach orchard, but he never did. He thought we had some drugs, I think. Maybe hidden. I couldn’t figure out what he wanted. I’d have told him anything, but I just couldn’t understand what he wanted to know.”

Tears welled in Gi

Now she would only be scared all the time. Like him.

“Did he… did he make you…” The words eluded him. No will to speak them.

“He tried to,” she said. “He couldn’t get hard. He already had his belt in his hand, so he used it to whip me. When he bent down I kicked him in the… down there.”

Morgan felt a ghost pang in his balls, winced.

“I got away and locked myself in the bathroom,” she said. “He tried to get in, but I kept screaming. He must’ve worried about the noise and the neighbors and went away.”

Morgan couldn’t look at her, couldn’t stand it. He wished he’d never come to Oklahoma, wished he hadn’t been a teacher, that he didn’t have to see this young girl have the love of life beat out of her. He taught poetry. What the hell was that? What the fuck good did poetry do anybody?

He said, “I’ll take you home. You can stay with me for a while.”

“No.”

He opened his mouth to object, shut it again.

“I had the nurse call my parents,” Gi

“Oh, I didn’t think- Okay.”

“You’ve got to be careful.”

He blinked. Did she mean about her parents?

She said, “It’s not me he’s after, Professor. He wants you. I just happened to be there.”

He nodded, bit his lower lip. Of course. He hadn’t thought beyond what to do with Gi

“Professor, I think I need to sleep now.”

“Do you want me to wait until-”

“My parents will be here soon.”

“Okay.” Morgan swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Gi

But she was already asleep.

twenty-eight

Morgan left the hospital numb and scared. He drove his car, automatically heading back to his little house. Halfway there he thought, I can’t stay at home. That guy’ll come back.

He turned the car around, headed for the Best Western at the edge of town. Halfway to the motel he turned around again. He hadn’t any luggage, not even a toothbrush. He’d have to risk his house for twenty minutes, long enough to grab some clothes and his toilet kit.

His thoughts tumbled, wouldn’t line up straight. He couldn’t hide out at the Best Western the rest of the semester. Another thought. If the guy knew where he lived, he’d probably be able to track Morgan to his campus office. A night at a motel wouldn’t solve anything.

Fuck it.

One night at a time. That was all he could manage.

He parked in front of his house and ran up to the porch. The front door still stood open. He looked in, crept around the house, searching for intruders. Empty.

He ran to the bedroom, yanked a gym bag out of the closet. Two shirts, three pairs of boxer shorts, a fistful of socks. Into the bathroom next. He couldn’t find his leather toilet bag, so he swept his toothbrush and razor off the sink and into the gym bag. He already wore his coat. What else? He always forgot something.