The Secret Diary Of Laura Palmer Part 9

I squeezed yet another false smile out of my face and went on, "Listen, if you all want to play tonight... and you know what I mean... then let's do it right, okay?"

One of the guys, the one with tattoos everywhere, stepped up to the chair, and kicked the h.e.l.l out of it. Five or six times. I tried not to look as mortified as I was. He bent down, greasy hair in his face, his breath like garbage. "You better watch your mouth, little hitchhiker, 'cause where I'm from, a hole like you would never dare tell a man that he ain't doin' a job that beats all other jobs."

"I didn't mean to imply that you weren't experienced. I can tell that you are, just by watching you move." G.o.d, they were all so awful. My tongue was shaking in my mouth, nervous and lying. I was so stupid!

Another of the guys, the youngest, and the only one with any concern for me at all, suggested they hear what I had to say.

I slid myself back to an upright position in the chair and looked at all of them, carefully. I thought, just go for it. It's either going to work or they're probably going to rape and kill you. You can't let people like this take your life. Just make it up as you go along, Laura.

"Okay, I am not opposed to drinking, drugs, or s.e.x, all in measured doses. I am not opposed to getting a little kinky, getting motherly, or becoming a little girl... more of a little girl, nor am I opposed to my performing a solo show, for everyone.

There were belches and nodding heads. Eight big eyes, growing wider.

"I think all of you will like my show very much Il even invent some new things for you, new touches... and if anything should come to you, about what you want to see me do, you come over and whisper in my ear. I'll play games.

"But here's the deal: I get a ride back to town, and I walk out of here the same way I walked in. No violence."

One of the guys decided he was too macho for this and said, "I'll slap you right upside the head if I get the urge, b.i.t.c.h."

I gathered my nerves enough to lean toward him and appear confident. "If you get the urge to slap me, as you said, right upside the head, I haven't done my... job." I swallowed hard. "You can call me b.i.t.c.h and whatever else, but let's just try and get along... okay?"

It took me another forty minutes after they agreed to my show to get them to stop with all of the att.i.tude and the yelling. Finally, I offered each a Valium in his beer and told them to sit on the couch, drink the beer, and I would start.

I have never been so frightened, ever. Forget nightmares, forget near-misses with a speeding car on a wet road, forget BOB even, simply because, in comparison to this, it was four to one. And each of them was big enough to eat my entire body as a snack before lunch.

All of them sat on the couch, except one, who I told to watch the door so that no one would think I was planning an escape. I pulled a chair around to the middle of the room. A wooden chair, nice high back... almost too perfect. I took a few steps to each side of the room and switched off the lights.

Slowly I began to undress, and each time I removed a piece of clothing, I memorized where I had "tossed it" so (if they did pa.s.s out like I planned) I would be able to dress quickly and get out.

I began to talk to myself. I imagined being stoned so that I could relax. I was so d.a.m.ned afraid that someone was going to jump up and say, "You're history, baby," but no one did.

I slowly began the routine of the "little girl lost in the woods"... a favorite of Leo's and Jacques's because I can become "Mommy" so fast.

I prayed that I could keep them intrigued long enough to watch their eyelids get heavy. I went to the man at the door, probably the meanest one, and I lifted his hand, which was surprisingly relaxed, onto my chest, and I talked to him softly.

It was a good fifteen minutes that he was touching me and really getting into talking back with me and I could feel him giving in, just like Jacques. One of the others got selfish and said, "Hey, what about over here!"

"Don't you worry, boys, I don't get tired. I never get bored, and it would be impossible to forget who's in this room." I had to keep all of them happy. I swung the chair around and asked the man with me to kneel down. I told him softly so that it would not appear as a threat, and began to dance. I went all around the room... and paid attention to each of them... admiring them, anything about them... lying... (None of them were pa.s.sing out!) Finally I made it back to the chair. Next began the hottest part of the whole piece... a very rowdy, raunchy sit-and-spin routine during which all of them leaned forward and looked closely at me as I played. I continued this and elaborated on it... extended it.

I did all I could think of to get them physically and emotionally intoxicated. Everyone was looking tired, but they were still managing to clap and whistle.

To be brief, this went on until three of the four guys pa.s.sed out, and I was left with one. A big, round dude with a three-day beard, and saggy eyes. He told me I mesmerized him.

He asked if I wanted to go into the other room. He said he had the key. I came up close and asked, "What about the truck? Can we do it there?"

"Sure, it's your back, baby."

So I grabbed what I could of my clothing, minus the socks and bra, and ventured out into the night, trying to think of a way to get out of this place... as soon as possible. I needed to get out. Get high. Get home.

As soon as I was able, I sat in the driver's seat and called him over with my pursed lips. He slid across the vinyl seats fast. He buried himself deep in my chest, and I thought, okay, Laura, find the bottle with your hand... there! Don't move too quickly, distract him, and SMAs.h.!.+

I whacked the guy over the head with the bottle and drew blood. He was bleeding all over. I jumped out of the truck and began running, half naked... so what! I wanted to get away from them, before they realized what I had done.

I went to Jacques's cabin, hoping he and Leo would be there, still with Ronnette.

When I got there, I was pretty haggard, pretty emotionally beaten. I burst into tears and fell to my knees on the floor. Ronnette came to me and helped get me to the couch. I couldn't stop crying! I was even ashamed that I was able to get myself out of it the way that I did... I felt like the dirtiest person ever! BOB was right, he was so right!

I grabbed ahold of Ronnette's arm, and I heard her say, "There's blood all over her, let's get her cleaned up. She's only going to stay upset with blood all over her body."

The next thing I remember was waking up in my own bed, with a note clenched in my fist.

Dear Laura - We tried to calm you down as much as possible, but you were hysterical... and just kept asking to go home. I don't think anyone heard us coming in, but if you get caught, tell them what happened. Everything is okay now. I know you were scared... Maybe we can see each other in a couple of days and talk or something, okay?

Ronnette So there's my night. You would think I'd learn, but I guess I just can't for some reason.

I've even had thoughts since waking up this morning about how I could have done a better show for those creeps! My brain actually goes over it again and again, like a skip in a record, except that I'm making it better, more relaxed... I say smarter things. I actually find myself thinking of going and looking for them!

I must be going crazy... these thoughts are all wrong! I am all wrong!

Speak to you later, Laura March 4,1988 Dear Diary, I spent yesterday with Donna, and I realized that we have nothing to say to each other anymore. Sure, we chat, and she talks, but the whole time I was there, all I could think of was getting out of her house. I could feel the pure, perfect little walls closing in on me.

She actually took me to her room and closed the door, to whisper that she and Mike are going all the way soon. They're planning the whole event... Thursday night...? I don't remember.

So she tells me this and I'm supposed to say, "Wow, Donna, are you sure you want to do that?"

So, I guess Donna is getting it pretty good from Bobby's best buddy, Mike. Remember him? The chewing-gum commercial? All I can say is that I hope he's good to Donna. I've always thought he was an a.s.shole... but I don't have to f.u.c.k him, right?

Have fun, Donna.

Laura March 10,1988 Dear Diary, I was just sitting here in my room, thinking about Bobby. Maybe I shouldn't have told him what happened with the truckers, because he hasn't talked to me since then. I told him the truth, just the way he and I talked about on New Year's Eve. We wanted to be honest... we said we were in love... I only did what I did to get out alive.

Benjamin Horne just called. Mom yelled up the stairway that it was for me, and that it was Benjamin Horne. My first question, before even a "h.e.l.lo," was, "Is Johnny, okay? What is it?"

He said that I should sit down for a minute. I knew Dad was home, Mom was home... Johnny's all right... "What is it?"

He said that Troy had been found this morning on the tracks up by the border. His leg was broken, and three of his shoes had come off... not to mention the fact that he was completely malnourished. He hadn't been able to find food. Benjamin said he was sure it was Troy because of the Broken Circle brand on him.

Benjamin said that he watched the border police shoot him. Twice to the head. He said it appeared that someone had let him out. He promised me over the phone that he would find this awful person and make certain they knew what they had done to a beautiful young horse.

I hung up.

I looked around, and everything went gray, black, gray, black.... I am so bad. Everywhere I turn something tells me I am an evil, wrong, bad person... How could I have done such a thing to Troy?

If I weren't so f.u.c.ked up and horrible, I could have gone out, right this minute, and ridden him. Taken the both of us off into the fields where we could have survived together, somehow.

I cannot believe what is happening to me and my life! How can one day be so unbelievably precious, and another a nightmare... a dark dream that makes me dream of dying... right this very minute.

L.

April 7,1988 Dear Diary, Not only do I love my job at the perfume counter, but I adore working with someone as cool as Ronnette. She always understands when I'm depressed and doesn't get down on me for it.

Bobby is speaking to me again and we date fairly regular - maybe twice a week; at the most, or an average of, let's say five times a month. But used to see each other every day. Now in school we hardly hang out together. The funny thing is we were voted "best couple" this semester by the student body.

I think we care for each other very much, but we have become objects of convenience and comfort to one another-without the love and attentiveness there used to be. We get high together a lot-mostly over at Leo's, or out by the Pearl Lakes.

The times that we get high at Leo's, especially lately, Bobby pays more attention to Sh.e.l.ley than he does to Leo or me.

I figure they'll have an affair... if they aren't already secretly involved. I told Leo this the other night, which was a definite mistake on my part. I wish I could always blame the stupid things that come out of my mouth on the c.o.ke that goes up my nose, but no such luck. I had to beg him to calm down. I've never seen such violence come up so suddenly.

I don't doubt for a moment that Leo has a bad temper, but it was how much rage he felt in so little time that concerned me. Personally, I hope Bobby and Sh.e.l.ley are having a relations.h.i.+p... I don't like the idea of being alone, at all, but worse things could happen, and I think Bobby and Sh.e.l.ley are good for each other. Dare I say that Leo Johnson and Laura Palmer are cut from the same cloth...? Whatever, either way, my point is that Leo and I sleep together more often than Bobby and I do, and I know it is the same for Leo and Sh.e.l.ley.

Why do we pick up the people we do? Avoiding loneliness at almost any cost... picking a mate by his work schedule, his paycheck, or his abilities in the bedroom are good reasons, if you are fortunate enough to find a guy like that who is a nice guy as well.

Bobby seemed right for me. He was there. He was cute, popular, good family background... and he swore his love to me again and again until he finally realized that I cannot love anything right now. Falling in love is like holding a white flag out to your enemies and saying, "We give up, we're in love, love is surrender."

I can't do that until I know for certain that BOB is really dead. Until there is a corpse that I can kick as many times as I please. G.o.d, I hope that day comes soon.

Laura April 10,1988 Dear Diary, I went to Horne's Department Store today for my introductory meeting, even though I've been there over a month. I guess I expected to learn more than I already know.

Mr. Battis, the store's manager, reminds me of a large fruit - something slowly rotting... What is he doing here and when will he leave? Poor guy.

Mr. Battis feels so guilty about s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the boss's "friends" that he never leaves the area around the perfume counter. I feel like he's spying on me-a constant pest who won't allow me a bullet blast or a pat on Ronnette's a.s.s.

I remember feeling intimidated by Benjamin's office that day - the size of the room, the number of phone lines blinking constantly, his view, the size of his couch, and... aha...

Benjamin said to me that day, "Someone from personnel will be calling you at home, Laura, to set up an introductory meeting sometime soon.

No such luck: Mr. Battis is somewhat rotund and older, less distinguished than I had imagined and far less interesting to be around. Either way, I have to tell him sometime quite soon that he's more annoying to everyone down here than he is helpful, and that I personally am tired of pretending to smile at his ridiculous face and boring sense of humor.

I'm sure I sound like a b.i.t.c.h, but hey, I've earned it. I work hard and sometimes things get to be too much for me.

I'm taking my break: BE BACK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES. I need a cigarette and a line.

I'm back. Just as I was exiting the ladies' bathroom, I saw Donna approaching my counter. d.a.m.n, just as I was feeling better, too.

She came up and started jabbering away about her trip out of town next week to check out colleges, and how she was going to miss Mike so much, and, "How much does this little bottle here cost?"

I was happy to see her, but not happy at the same time. It upset me that she was so happy with Mike, not that I wanted him to mistreat her, but deep down I wanted to know that she liked me more, or needed my company more than his. I realize when I see it written here how selfish I am, especially when I've stopped calling her. We're not really even friends anymore.

We're like everyone else, I guess. We promise that something is forever, when it is really only as long as it takes for us to tire of it.

When she walked away, and out the door, it was like she was leaving forever.

Laura April 21,1988 Dear Diary, Ronnette just called from work to say that, even though it's my day off, a.s.sistance isn't coming until evening, and she needs a lot of help at the counter... would I mind coming in?

In other words, tell everyone at home that you're working late: There's a private party with Leo and Jacques at the cabin in the woods.

Ronnette and I made up codes for things and specific places.

"I need your a.s.sistance, right away!" means "I need a hit of c.o.ke, have any?" or "a.s.sistance is needed at the counter, now!" means "c.o.ke is not at the cabin, bring what you've got."

So, Ronnette and I drove up there, and on the way I tried to convince her that she would never be recognized, never touched, and incredibly rich if she did "it" with me. By "it" I meant send photos of herself to Fleshworld. I told her to make a little ad, saying you'll send naughty tapes, panties, and pictures for a simple fee... etc etc. Get a safety-deposit box, and make up a name with a false history-we could even have Jacques take the photos tonight.

We had been drinking at the cabin for a couple of hours when I told Jacques that I wanted some Polaroids taken of me.

The red window curtains were a large enough backdrop, and the color was just sleazy enough so that if I posed the right way, I'd sell a million copies.

Jacques and Leo were both excited by what I was doing. I've found a new way to seduce them.

Ronnette saw me in action and decided perhaps it was a good idea after all.

Soon, Laura July 22,1988 Dear Diary, Happy sweet sixteen to me...

Everything feels like a dream, a bad, very sad dream, about a little girl who all her life had a dream of her life at sweet sixteen.

G.o.d, Diary, I had such beautiful images of the boy who would love me, and never leave my side. Of how my girlfriends and I would drive my new car to the beach, strip down to our bikinis, and jump into the water. I would have the perfect body, the perfect skin, the perfect family and home - a straight-A student who is helpful and earns her own money.

I wanted my own pony, a cat, and maybe a dog. Donna Hayward would be right by my side, wearing a lacy white dress, and our boyfriends would pick us up at the front door. Our parents loved them because we had the perfect parents.

All of the above were the making of my dreams until my nightmare arrived. Not, certainly, that I thought I would have all of these "picture perfect" moments in my life, but I still had dreams, hope that anything was possible.

I cannot tell you how special and valuable a daydream is... I didn't miss it until it was gone. Without it I became cold, paranoid, unfriendly, and open to all sorts of horrible things.

Most of the truth you already know. Sweet sixteen is not what I thought it would be.

Bobby Briggs and I decided we would take a bit of a breather from one another-I think he is having a little affair with Sh.e.l.ley-no matter. I can't love Bobby the way he deserves to be loved, and it kills me inside to admit that.

I am not side by side with Donna Hayward. Something has happened to us, we grew up, together, but then I suddenly grew apart from her... certain events aged me, made me bitter.

I see that I wrongly believed her a fool because she had not been made bitter-no one came late at night from the woods to rea.s.sure her there is no hope. No. That was my life.

I do not have a brand-new car. My parents lend me theirs. Why should I have one, in the town of Twin Peaks-there isn't really much need.

I try to work hard, but I must do more. I must work harder to redeem all my evil doings... my cocaine binges, all day, all handsome exterior with a heart of gold... my fantasy man. I have to quit the c.o.ke.

And the s.e.x! More than a girl my age should know. Much more. s.e.x that grows darker and darker-becomes an act of vengeance, rather than love.

I love to sleep with women sometimes because I know exactly how to please them and it gives me so much control!

I long for such strength all of the time, which again explains the cocaine. I often fear that all of my actions will send me to h.e.l.l.

I had a pony. A beautiful one. Troy. His mane, a rich cinnamon color. Once again I blame myself... although there may be circ.u.mstances in my life that led me to believe what I did was right. It doesn't count. I led him out, caught up in my own dream of freedom. I whipped his a.s.s, hard. I watched him take off... and I believe he looked back once, but I turned away. Somehow I already sensed what would happen to him because of me.

He was found, unfed, unshod, with a broken leg on the tracks by the border. Benjamin Horne watched him silently accept two bullets into his skull.

I have become a thief like the visitor BOB is. Stealing pride and hope, confidence...

My cat... I won't go into. It is sad enough just to think about.