Crazy Water: Six Fictions 9780814723326
In Crazy Water: Six Fictions, Lori Baker pushes the boundaries between truth and reality with curious, tragi-comic resul
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C R A Z Y W A T E R
ELMER HOLMES BOBST AWARDS FOR EMERGING WRITERS
Established i n 1983 , th e Elme r Holme s Bobs t Award s i n Arts an d Letter s ar e presente d eac h yea r t o individual s who have brought tru e distinctio n t o the American literar y scene. Recipients of the Awards include writers as varied a s Toni Morrison , Joh n Updike , Russell Baker , Eudor a Welty , Edward Albee , Arthur Miller, Joyce Carol Oates, and Jame s Merrill. The Awards were recently expanded t o include cat egories devote d t o emergin g writer s o f fiction an d poetry , and i n 1995 , the juror s selecte d winner s i n eac h category , Lori Bake r fo r he r shor t stories , Crazy Water: Six Fictions, Don Judso n fo r hi s novella , Bird-Self Accumulated, an d Debra Weinstein fo r her collection o f poems, Rodent Angel
C R A Z Y W A T E R SIX F I C T I O N S Lori Bake r
n
N e w Yor k U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s New Yor k an d Londo n
NEW YOR K UNIVERSIT Y PRES S New Yor k an d Londo n Library o f Congres s Catologing-in-Publicatio n Dat a Baker, Lor i Crazy wate r : six fiction s / Lor i Baker . p. cm . ISBN 0-8147-1283- 5 (clot h : alk. paper) . —ISB N 0-8147-1284- 3 (pbk. : alk . paper ) I. Title . PS3552.A43148C73 199 6 95-5017 2 813.54—dc20 CI P New Yor k Universit y Pres s book s ar e printe d o n acid-fre e paper , and thei r bindin g material s ar e chose n fo r strengt h an d durability.
for PETER
•• •
CONTENTS Acknowledgments xi Grace 3 The Drive 3 7 Crazy Water 6 3 Tenure Trac k 9 1 Romulus 12 9 Mother-in-Law 15 7
[ix]
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS "The Drive " previously appeared , i n a somewha t dif ferent version , i n th e Boston Review (Januar y 1987) ; "Romulus" appeare d i n Cathay (vol . 1 , sprin g 1992 ) and i n Scraps (Paradig m Press , 1995).
[xi]
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Grace
1. Definitions
y goo d frien d Grac e gre w u p i n a shadow y house o n a suburba n stree t a s clea n an d brilliant an d shadowles s a s a razo r blade . O n mos t afternoons, Grac e i n he r pin k dres s wa s th e onl y el lipse i n a Mondria n o f perfectl y plane d whit e fence s advancing t o curb s stiffe r tha n hospita l bed s an d hedges marchin g lik e evergree n soldier s aroun d care fully researche d borders . Althoug h sh e migh t hav e held a bal l o r a j u m p rop e o r a plasti c truck , pla y was a myster y t o Grace , fo r sh e wa s dedicate d t o th e sanctity o f he r dress . Wrinkle s an d dir t wer e forbid den, an d Mother , peerin g ou t o f th e bac k windo w from behin d a n ingenuousl y drape d curtain , m a d e certain i t wa s so . Grace's hous e wa s ful l o f shadows , althoug h i t was jus t a s big , and white , an d wid e windowe d a s th e houses al l aroun d it . The shadow s emanate d no t fro m some architectura l blunde r bu t fro m Grace' s mother , [3]
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who wa s a woma n o f comple x mood s an d mysteriou s disappointments. Ever y da y whe n Mothe r steppe d out t o th e cur b t o ge t th e mai l sh e stoo d fo r a mo ment, lookin g u p an d dow n th e stree t wit h it s identi cal houses , an d imagine d othe r women , identica l t o herself, steppin g ou t t o identica l mailboxe s t o fetc h identical mai l (th e telephon e bill , th e electri c bill , some flye r advertisin g r u m p roas t a t thirty-fiv e cent s a pound) . Coming bac k int o th e hous e an d lookin g a t Grace , she'd say , "Mor e o f th e same , mor e o f th e same , mor e of th e same, " ove r an d ove r lik e a prayer . Grac e pon dered he r words , a s i f the y containe d som e lesson , some key . When sh e wa s pregnant , Mothe r said , sh e ha d had a drea m i n whic h sh e sa w hersel f a t th e seashore , playing i n th e wate r wit h a golde n chil d o f exquisit e beauty. The n sh e ha d gon e t o th e hospital , sh e said , "and yo u cam e out. " Grac e wa s no t a n exquisit e golden child ; sh e wa s smal l an d dar k an d vaguel y funny looking , an d a s sh e gre w sh e wa s followe d ev erywhere b y th e vas t shado w o f he r mother' s disap proval. Ever y da y th e shado w followe d he r dow n th e street an d al l th e wa y t o school . Onl y there , onc e sh e had slippe d beneat h th e principal' s a r m an d throug h the ding y gree n entranc e doors , di d th e shado w re -
[4]
Grace cede, allowin g Grac e t o bounc e a bal l an d pu t wrin kles int o he r dress . "You mar k m y w o r d s / ' Mothe r woul d say , scowl ing a t th e wrinkle s whe n Grac e returne d hom e fro m school promptl y a t thre e fifteen, "n o on e wil l eve r want you , i f you don' t lear n ho w t o keep yoursel f up. " Grace o f cours e ha d n o ide a wh o migh t wan t her , or fo r what , an d whe n sh e asked , he r mother' s fac e took o n a strang e an d righteou s stiffness , a s i f Grac e had jus t confirme d o r perhap s rathe r satisfie d he r gravest suspicions . "Neve r min d fo r what , jus t kee p your dres s straight, " Mothe r crypticall y replied . So Grac e stoo d stiffl y o n th e bac k law n holdin g her ball , a tin y ellips e i n a field o f rectangles . Grace too k Mothe r ver y seriously . The n a s now , what m y frien d lacke d i n beauty , sh e mad e u p fo r in earnestness . Fo r day s sh e pondere d he r mother' s mysterious oracula r fables , jus t as , year s later , sh e would ponde r wit h th e sam e fierce trustingnes s state ments mad e b y hocu s pocu s gypsie s ove r he r pas sively proffere d pal m ("te n dollar s pe r hand , o r twenty dollar s fo r a Taro t reading , dear") . Whateve r conclusions sh e drew , sh e kep t the m t o hersel f an d tried harde r no t t o wrinkl e he r dress . One afternoon , Grac e returne d hom e fro m schoo l in nee d o f a definition . A strang e an d mysteriou s
[5]
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word ha d grow n u p lik e milde w o n th e salmon-tile d wall o f a smal l roo m calle d Girl s somewher e o n Cor ridor 3 . Th e word , whic h ha d begun , lik e mildew , faintly, h a d becom e darke r an d darke r a s th e wee k went on , unti l i t wa s s o engorge d b y th e humi d squirmy giggle s o f a doze n prepubescen t female s tha t it bega n t o loo m i n Grace' s youn g min d lik e a lichen covered ba t o r a cav e emanatin g feti d poisonou s gases. They al l kne w wha t i t meant ; Grac e didn't . "Fuck," Mothe r said , withou t liftin g u p he r dus t rag, "mean s somethin g ver y dirt y tha t ha s t o d o wit h girls." Aha. Grace store d th e definitio n awa y i n her min d for late r referenc e an d wen t int o th e kitche n t o ge t a cookie. After all , sh e wa s onl y eight . "If yo u hav e t o ea t that , mak e sur e yo u don' t ge t crumbs o n m y rug, " Mothe r said . "N o on e wil l loo k a t you twice , Grace , i f you can' t kee p a hous e clean. " And w h a t abou t Father ? Wher e wa s h e whil e al l this wa s goin g on ? "Probably ou t wit h tha t woman , tha t blon d o f his," Mothe r said , adjustin g he r vacuu m cleane r t o the settin g fo r dee p pil e carpet . At least , that' s wha t Grac e tol d me .
[6]
Grace 2. Shells When sh e wa s i n junio r hig h school , Grac e bega n collecting seashells . Their name s wer e magi c incanta tions, whispere d unde r cove r o f darknes s i n he r clea n white bedroom : sundia l an d lion' s paw , bleedin g tooth an d angel' s wing , moo n snai l an d shar k eye , dogwinkle an d whelk . Sittin g alon e i n he r ver y nea t bedroom, Grac e coul d star e fo r hour s a t th e pink lipped curv e o f a cowr y o r a conch , a s i f sh e migh t find th e secret s o f eternit y i n thos e smoot h shinin g folds. Th e inanimat e glistenin g whorl s o f the se a dea d had becom e easie r fo r he r t o penetrat e tha n th e com plex, spiralin g adolescen t mind s tha t surrounde d he r every da y a t school . Somehow , ove r th e cours e o f a single s u m m e r spen t completin g paint-by-number s in th e bac k yard , Grac e ha d becom e lost . Afloa t o n a raft o f anxiety , sh e foun d hersel f propelle d throug h the teemin g hallway s o f th e junio r hig h schoo l b y convulsive wave s o f hormon e an d angs t tha t sh e couldn't comprehend . Foremost amon g th e dread s wa s he r m a t h teacher, Mr . Evangeline . Hi s fla t fishy eyes , regardin g Grace crypticall y throug h thick , opalescen t lenses , set he r repeatin g a seashel l m a n t r a a s sh e huddle d a t her desk . Ever y da y sh e saile d furthe r awa y fro m polynomials an d grap h paper , shuttin g hersel f fo r [7]
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protection insid e th e flame o f a sunse t scallo p o r a bristling murex . Nothin g Evangelin e sai d coul d con vert Grac e t o a belie f i n th e realit y o f mathematics ; worse yet , sh e wa s terrifie d b y th e bristlin g war t tha t protruded fro m hi s pal e d a m p cheek , just beneat h th e steel ridg e o f hi s glasses . Ever y no w an d the n h e would wak e he r fro m som e brin y daydrea m b y slap ping a n exa m pape r dow n o n he r desk . Th e exam s that startle d he r s o o n thei r arriva l inevitabl y re turned t o he r a fe w day s late r bearin g grade s lik e D or F . Good, clean , quiet , obedient , perfectl y irone d Grace wa s flunking mathematics , an d sh e wa s amazed. What amaze d he r mos t o f al l wa s tha t flunking required n o will . Someho w Grac e ha d alway s thought tha t failur e involve d a concerte d non-effort , a decisio n t o cu t loos e an d float freel y throug h an d above an d beyon d thos e glowin g inscrutabl e diatom s that Mr . Evangelin e calle d formulae . Instea d i t wa s just th e opposite . Sh e di d no t inten d t o flunk, bu t sh e flunked anyway , an d sh e flunked everything : home work, quizzes , midterms , eve n clas s participation . Her mothe r wa s furious . "People wh o ar e reall y intelligen t ar e intelligen t at everything/' Mothe r said , bristlin g wit h innuendo . Mother foun d Grace' s failur e unendurable . Afte r [8]
Grace all, i f Grac e insiste d o n bein g smal l an d dar k an d funny looking , sh e coul d a t leas t b e smart . There wa s a flurr y o f visit s t o th e m a t h depart ment: Mothe r insiste d tha t Mr . Evangelin e chang e Grace's grade . Ne w informatio n wa s revealed : Grac e was lazy . Sh e didn' t listen , sh e daydreame d i n class . If sh e h a d listened , sh e woul d hav e passed . On e da y she ha d droppe d a boo k o n th e floor; she' d bee n read ing it instead o f th e m a t h book . Grace didn' t ge t alon g with th e othe r children ; i t seeme d t o him , Mr . Evan geline said , tha t sh e wa s afraid, an d s o sh e didn' t speak u p i n class . If onl y sh e h a d bothere d t o as k questions, sh e woul d hav e passed . In short , i t wa s Grace' s fault , an d he r grad e fo r the ter m woul d remai n a n F . Still, ther e wa s hop e fo r nex t term . Mothe r hire d Mr. Evangelin e t o tuto r Grac e i n math , a t twent y dollars a n hour , flat rate . The ide a tha t sly , damp-smilin g Mr . Evangelin e should ente r he r ow n hom e horrifie d Grace . Ho w could sh e si t i n tha t kitche n chai r again , onc e Mr . Evangeline ha d reste d there ? Ho w coul d sh e touc h the kitche n table ? Eve r agai n drin k ou t o f a wate r glass, onc e he' d sipped ? Al l o f hom e woul d b e con taminated, onc e Mr . Evangelin e arrive d wit h hi s briefcase an d hi s evasiv e mathematica l eyes . Grace squirmed ; sh e shouted ; sh e begged . [9]
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Mother wa s inexorable . Sh e sai d tha t Mr . Evan geline woul d come ; an d h e came . From he r frilly-curtaine d bedroo m window , Grace watche d hi m come . H e ha d o n hi s lon g brow n coat buttone d u p tigh t aroun d hi s neck ; fro m he r vantage poin t sh e coul d se e dul l patche s o f wea r o n the shoulders . H e didn' t hav e hi s briefcase , bu t some thing wa s tucke d beneat h hi s a r m . I t looke d omi nously lik e a m a t h book . Mr. Evangelin e tiptoe d delicatel y u p th e walk , trying t o evad e patche s o f shar p glintin g Februar y ice, an d perhaps , instinctively , Grace' s poisonou s glances. A plum e o f frost y breat h emerge d fro m hi s mouth an d encircle d hi s balding , hatles s head . "Grace," Mothe r calle d fro m downstairs . "Gra ACE! Mr. Evangeline' s here! " Grace clenche d a seashel l i n he r han d an d sai d nothing. "Grace!" Mothe r calle d again , wit h a warnin g i n her voice . "Just a minute , Mother, " Grac e shoute d down , but sweetly . "I' m i n th e bathroom . Jus t a minute! " It wa s th e firs t li e tha t Grac e ha d eve r told , an d she ha d tol d i t t o he r mother . An d i t worked . Mothe r stopped calling , an d Grac e hear d a dul l rasp y mum bling, lik e stone s bein g turne d ove r b y th e tide .
[10]
Grace Her mothe r wa s talkin g t o Mr . Evangeline . My friend , wh o h a d neve r i n he r lif e know n a moment o f duplicity , wa s struc k b y a sudde n longin g to hea r wha t the y wer e saying . Late r on , sh e woul d remember tha t moment , whe n sh e snuc k barefoo t down he r mother' s immaculatel y carpete d stairs , sea shell i n hand , a s a sor t o f unveiling . "Eve bi t th e apple, " sh e tol d me , muc h later . Good, clean , quiet , obedient , slightl y wrinkle d Grace knel t o n th e dinin g roo m floor nex t t o he r Mother's chin a cabinet , presse d he r ea r agains t th e door, an d listened . The firs t thin g sh e hear d wa s th e humi d "har u m m p h " o f Mr . Evangelin e clearin g hi s throat , per haps i n prefac e t o som e incomprehensibl e mathemat ical statement . "Well, my feeling, " Mr . Evangelin e wa s saying , "i s that som e kid s jus t don' t hav e th e ability . Yo u ca n push an d push , Ma'am , bu t i f sh e hasn' t go t i t sh e hasn't go t it , an d n o amoun t o f pushing wil l giv e i t t o her, i f you kno w wha t I mean. " "So the n yo u agree, " Mothe r said , "tha t sh e jus t isn't a s brigh t a s th e nic e normal children . I tol d my husband . I tol d hi m las t year' s grade s wer e jus t a fluke." "Well, now, normal . . . ," Mr. Evangelin e began .
[11]
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"You know , Mr . Evangeline, " Grac e hear d Mothe r say, i n a ver y confidentia l tone , "Grac e ha s neve r really bee n w h a t I' d cal l normal She' s jus t no t lik e other children , Mr . Evangeline , she' s not . You'v e hi t it righ t o n th e head. " Grace imagine d he r mothe r leanin g forwar d i n her blon d woo d kitche n chair . "I woul d giv e everything, " Mothe r said , "i f onl y my chil d coul d b e normal , lik e th e others. " "Well Ma'am, " Mr . Evangelin e said , "we'l l d o th e best w e can , won' t we? " As Grac e sa t wit h he r re d adolescen t ea r presse d to th e dinin g roo m door , Mothe r continue d t o talk . She talke d al l abou t Grace : superstitiousl y abou t Grace's birt h (" I kne w righ t awa y somethin g wa s wrong—they sai d sh e wa s u p ther e backwards!") ; about Grace' s toddlerhoo d ("Sh e refuse d t o suc k he r t h u m b . Ca n yo u imagin e a chil d refusin g t o suc k he r t h u m b ? W e h a d t o pu t i t i n he r mout h fo r her!") ; about Grace' s elementar y schoo l year s ("To o preco cious—the question s sh e aske d me!") . And Mr . Evangelin e talked . H e talke d al l abou t Grace: scornfull y abou t Grace' s ineptitud e i n mathe matics (" I wa s quit e amaze d b y he r fault y gras p o f negative numbers , Ma'am") ; abou t Grace' s shynes s ("She sit s ther e lik e a scare d littl e animal—scare d o f
[12]
Grace those kids , Ma'am, I just don' t understan d it") ; abou t Grace's poo r wor k habit s ("Ever y pag e covere d wit h erasures, som e s o ba d the y tor e righ t throug h th e paper!"). Sitting ther e behin d th e dinin g roo m door , Grac e turned th e conc h shel l ove r i n he r hands , an d wishe d that sh e coul d sli p betwee n it s pin k protectiv e lips , down an d awa y int o a n enamele d vaul t wher e mathe matics an d mother s an d Mr . Evangelin e didn' t reach . And s o sh e did . As sh e sa t ther e o n th e dinin g roo m floor (har d wood polishe d unti l i t gleamed) , m y frien d Grac e climbed insid e he r conc h shell . Sh e sli d o n th e satin y pink an d whit e interio r int o a labyrint h o f swoop s and curve s an d dizzyin g spirals , throug h room s hug e and small , passage s siniste r an d smiling , al l o f i t glowing softl y lik e th e sea . Sh e coul d hea r th e sea : the soun d o f wave s wa s al l aroun d her , ver y nearl y drowning ou t Mr . Evangeline' s nasa l pronounce ment: "You can' t mak e 'e m wha t the y aren't , Ma'am! " So Grac e sli d farther ; sh e sli d deepe r an d deepe r into th e shell ; sh e sli d towar d th e sea . Sh e sli d unti l she wa s surrounde d b y th e ocean . Frond s o f seawee d caressed he r knees . A yellow an d blu e filefis h (Oxymonacanthus longirostris, s o she' d rea d i n Fishes of the
[13]
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Barrier Reef, so rudel y tor n fro m he r grasp ) graze d i n her lon g dar k hair . I n plac e o f he r mother' s voic e Grace hear d . . . nothing. The silenc e wa s resounding , aquatic , multidimen sional. Tucke d awa y i n he r seashel l fa r belo w th e waves, Grac e ha d finally escape d fro m he r mother . But th e dinin g roo m doo r rocke d open , an d there , from ver y fa r away , Grac e sa w he r mothe r standin g above her , hand s o n hips , smilin g cunningly . "There yo u are , dear ! Al l se t t o d o som e m a t h ? " Mother asked . Mother's voic e wa s ver y faint . Sh e couldn' t se e that Grace , saf e insid e he r shell , wa s i n a plac e tha t mathematics woul d neve r reach . Grace smile d politely , an d hope d ther e wa s n o seaweed i n he r teeth . "Yes, Mother," sh e said .
3. Rights of Trespass When sh e wa s seventeen , i n th e autumn , m y frien d Grace fel l i n lov e fo r th e ver y firs t time . I t wa s a n extraordinary fall—th e mapl e tree s wer e alread y shot throug h wit h scarle t whe n i t happened ; Grac e had starte d wearin g he r thic k blac k hai r tie d bac k i n [14]
Grace a bun . Ove r th e summer , sh e ha d learne d t o rul e perfect margin s aroun d he r essays—on e inc h al l around, excep t fo r tw o inches , a t th e top , wher e th e titles wer e writte n in . "The title s wer e th e surprise, " sh e said . And s o the y were . Grac e wrot e th e paper s a t night; sh e wrot e th e title s i n th e morning , befor e breakfast. At seventee n Grac e spen t mos t evening s i n he r mother's dar k kitchen , pressin g he r dres s wit h a n iron. I n th e morning , sh e wor e th e dres s o n th e schoolbus, wher e othe r girl s (wit h pin k angor a sweat ers, an d shin y meta l braces , an d perfum e tha t smelled, jus t faintly , o f bubblegum ) conjecture d about he r age : seventeen , o r forty ? I t happene d fou r times ever y day : whe n Grac e go t o n th e bu s an d whe n she go t off , goin g t o schoo l an d goin g home . At seventee n Grac e ha d cease d entirel y t o b e lik e other girls . Th e angor a sweater s passe d b y he r lik e a dream. Seventeen , o r forty ? The y snappe d thei r gum , flipped thei r cigarett e butt s a t he r feet . Sh e sa t primly i n he r gree n viny l seat , clutchin g he r book s t o her chest , waitin g fo r everybod y els e t o file of f th e bus. Grac e wa s alway s th e las t on e of f th e bu s i n th e morning; sh e wa s th e las t on e o n th e bu s i n th e af ternoon. Grace ha d finally learne d ho w t o fit int o he r [15]
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mother's neatl y ordere d world : sh e mad e hersel f en tirely ou t o f straigh t lines , s o tha t whe n sh e walke d past th e whit e fence s an d surl y hedgerow s an d stif f inexorable sidewalk s o f he r neighborhood , sh e to o was stiff , straight , an d inexorable . He r dres s wa s al ways perfectl y pressed ; he r notebook s wer e alway s perfectly neat ; he r margin s wer e alway s perfectl y ruled; he r hai r wa s alway s draw n straigh t bac k t o th e perfectly inflexibl e whit e nap e o f he r seventee n yea r old neck . Tha t kno t o f blac k hair , restin g a t th e nap e of he r neck , wa s th e onl y thin g abou t he r tha t wasn' t straight—that an d th e sligh t swellin g o f th e tin y breasts tha t huddle d lik e sh y refugee s behin d he r per fectly irone d dres s front . I f thos e sligh t swelling s sug gested somethin g soft , somethin g vulnerable , some thing les s tha n architectura l i n Grace' s ensemble , n o one bothere d t o notice ; Grac e alway s walke d wit h her book s clutche d agains t them , just i n case . Grace h a d learne d ho w t o fit int o th e interior o f her Mother' s world , a s well . Insid e th e house , Grac e did chores . Sh e di d chore s i n th e morning ; sh e di d chores afte r school . Whe n sh e wasn' t doin g chores , Grace di d he r homework . Sh e sa t a t th e whit e des k i n her bedroom , an d concentrate d ver y hard , conjugat ing th e ver b to be i n Spanish : soy, eres, es; somos, sois, son. Ever y no w an d the n Grace' s mothe r peeke d inside, t o mak e sur e Grac e wa s stil l working . Grace' s [16]
Grace pen wa s alway s a t th e paper : Yo soy una chica Americana, sh e wrote . Yo quiero . . . / want something, but what? Something more . . . On occasion , Grace' s mothe r wen t away . Grace' s father h a d bee n gon e b y then , fo r a ver y lon g time , and tha t mean t tha t Grace' s mother , wh o preferre d to sta y insid e th e house , sometime s ha d t o g o out . Grace's mothe r sometime s walke d dow n Mai n Stree t to th e supermarket ; sh e pushe d a n empt y shoppin g cart i n fron t o f he r al l th e wa y dow n Mai n Street , even pas t th e poin t wher e th e sidewal k ended , an d the traffi c cam e ver y clos e t o th e edge s o f th e pave ment an d ver y close , b y extension , t o th e he m o f Mother's sundress . Later , sh e pushe d th e shoppin g cart, full , al l th e wa y bac k home . The wal k t o th e supermarke t wa s fraugh t wit h danger; that' s wha t Grace' s mothe r said . "I almos t die d today, " sh e sometime s intoned , a s she stoo d i n th e kitchen , unloadin g grocerie s int o he r perfectly cleaned , perfectl y polished , perfectl y orga nized blon d woo d cabinets . Once, a s Grace' s mothe r pushe d he r shoppin g cart t o th e market , sh e cam e righ t u p t o a thic k blac k snake tha t ha d slithere d ont o th e road . Sh e sai d i t was a wate r moccasin ; sh e sai d tha t i f sh e h a d take n another step , sh e woul d hav e died . [17]
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"I almos t died, " Mothe r said , "an d the n wha t would yo u hav e done ? Wha t woul d hav e happene d t o you then , Grace? " Grace onl y shrugge d he r ver y straight , ver y slen der shoulders . Wha t woul d Grac e d o withou t Mother? Yo soy una chica Americana, sh e thought , rehearsing. Yo quiero . . . Grace helpe d he r mothe r pu t awa y th e groceries , but sh e didn' t wal k wit h he r t o th e supermarket . Grace's jo b o n marketin g da y wa s t o sta y a t hom e and d o he r homework . Mothe r alway s wante d Grac e to ge t a n A on he r marketin g da y homework . "After all, " Mother woul d say , "yo u ha d th e whol e house t o yourself . Nic e an d quiet , whil e I walke d t o the marke t t o ge t foo d fo r you. " At seventeen , Grac e ha d learne d ho w t o satisf y her mother . Sh e almos t alway s go t a n A , o r some thing lik e it . A n A— . Or , i f i t wer e mathematics , a B + . Mother wa s happy . Grac e wa s happy . Shopping da y wa s Grace' s favorit e day . Sh e like d to stan d a t th e fron t window , an d watc h a s Mothe r went dow n th e drivewa y wit h he r shoppin g cart , wearing he r sundres s an d a bi g stra w hat . As the day s shortened int o fall , th e sundres s wa s toppe d wit h a sweater; the n i t wa s exchange d fo r a heavie r dress , and a n ol d jacke t o f Father's—sor t o f a rai n jacket , with a zi p u p th e front . Grac e watche d a s Mothe r [18]
Grace disappeared aroun d th e corner , behin d a fenc e an d a big mulberr y hedge . Grace alway s waite d unti l Mothe r wa s ver y muc h out o f sight . Then—instea d o f goin g upstairs , an d sitting a t he r whit e desk , an d doin g he r homework , as Mothe r mus t hav e imagined—Grac e wen t outside , into th e thic k stan d o f evergree n tree s tha t bordere d her mother' s bac k yard , an d smoke d a cigarette . My frien d wa s s o goo d i n thos e days , s o ver y straight, s o ver y presse d an d nea t an d efficienc y cor nered, tha t n o on e coul d hav e imagine d tha t ciga rette: no t he r mother , no t th e girl s o n th e schoo l bus, no t th e teacher s wh o admire d he r expertl y kep t margins, no t eve n he r ow n father , wh o wa s lon g sinc e launched o n secretiv e misdeed s o f hi s own . N o on e could hav e imagine d Grace , perche d sidesaddl e o n a low branc h o f on e o f thos e evergreens—encase d i n the silenc e an d th e slightl y bitte r scen t o f th e tree s that sh e ha d calle d (a s a chil d lackin g al l sens e o f proportion an d perspective ) "th e Woods"—expertl y inhaling fro m he r cigarett e an d gazin g u p amon g th e tangled branches . Ther e wer e patche s o f sunligh t u p there, strugglin g throug h th e thic k nubble s o f green ; occasionally a blueja y o r a blackbir d flitte d ove r he r head, an d the n th e branche s swayed , droppin g pin e needles int o he r hair . Grace, wh o ha d becom e a n exper t a t hidin g [19]
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things insid e herself , ha d als o becom e a n exper t a t hiding thing s outsid e herself—lik e a pac k o f ciga rettes insid e a hollo w tree ; an d a t hidin g herself, her e among th e evergreens . When sh e exhaled , th e smok e ros e u p throug h th e branches, an d disappeared , lik e a secret , int o th e blu e autumnal sky . As a child , Grac e ha d playe d amon g thes e trees , when he r mothe r woul d le t her—o r o n thos e rar e occasions whe n he r mothe r wasn' t looking . Fo r hours, Grac e coul d si t amon g th e branches , whil e her mothe r trie d callin g he r t o dinne r fro m variou s windows o f thei r bi g suburba n house . Th e groun d was covere d wit h pin e needles , drie d t o a sharp , pun gent brown ; Grac e love d t o scrap e the m asid e unti l she reache d th e ric h blac k soi l underneath , redolen t of earthworm s an d tin y whit e mushrooms . Grac e loved th e smel l o f it, the fee l o f it: a worl d beneat h th e surface, complete , invisible , mysterious , protecte d b y the thorn y forbiddin g laye r o f pin e needle s tha t la y above it . "It wa s a lot, " sh e tol d m e later , "lik e I though t love mus t be. " Hidden. Secret . Fa r awa y fro m Mother' s pryin g eyes. Not tha t Grac e intentionall y se t ou t t o deceiv e
[20]
Grace her mother . I t wa s simpl y ver y pleasant , crouchin g there amon g th e trees , inhalin g fro m he r cigarett e a s she h a d onc e inhaled , wit h pleasure , th e swee t black smelling eart h beneat h th e pin e needles . Nothing wa s straight there , o r nea t there , o r ver y orderly ; every thing wa s tangles , webs , confusions : branche s bro ken, branche s crooked , branche s fighting, jus t lik e Grace, towar d th e sun . And lov e was there , huddled amon g th e branches . It wa s ther e lon g befor e Grac e sa w it , lon g befor e Grace wa s read y t o se e it . Bu t on e da y Grac e wa s ready; an d o n tha t day , th e secon d shoppin g da y i n October, a s Grac e sa t o n he r branc h i n he r well ironed dress , smokin g he r cigarett e an d bein g carefu l not t o ge t pin e sa p o n he r sleeves , sh e looke d u p int o the trees , an d sa w love . There wa s nothin g prepossessin g abou t it , a t first sight. A t first Grac e wasn' t sur e tha t sh e ha d see n i t at all . Somethin g caugh t he r eye— a glint , o r a spar kle, u p ther e i n th e p i n e — a n d sh e ha d t o star e ver y hard, an d ver y long , u p int o th e dee p gree n fronds , i n order t o discove r i t again . Th e sk y tha t da y wa s ver y blue an d clear ; i t glinte d throug h th e branche s lik e a hail o f brittl e a u t u m n a l sapphire s an d mad e i t ver y hard fo r Grac e t o see . But nonetheless , ther e i t was : a dark lum p wadde d int o on e o f th e man y triangle s
[21]
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formed b y trun k an d branch , an d a t it s midst , some thing tha t glittered , somethin g tha t ha d caugh t Grace's eye . Something shiny , u p ther e i n a tree . From wher e sh e sat , wit h he r cigarett e betwee her fingers, Grac e couldn' t tel l wha t i t was . Sh didn't kno w tha t i t wa s love . Sh e onl y kne w tha there wa s somethin g u p there , stuc k i n he r favorit tree.
n e t e
Something tha t didn' t belong . Whatever i t was , i t bothere d th e Grac e wh o wa s neat an d straigh t an d orderly—th e Grac e wh o ha d learned t o rul e perfec t margin s aroun d he r essay s (one inc h al l around , excep t fo r tw o inches , at th e top , where th e title s wer e writte n in) . Whateve r i t was , Grace wa s goin g t o ge t ri d o f it . So sh e stubbe d ou t he r cigarette , an d slippe d of f her shoes , and the n good , clean, quiet , obedien t Grac e mounted th e lowes t branch , an d bega n t o clim b u p her favorit e tree . What di d Grac e thin k whil e sh e climbed ? No t much abou t love , huddled i n th e branche s abov e her . Instead sh e though t abou t he r perfectl y irone d dress , and ho w sh e woul d hav e t o hid e it , o r mayb e eve n throw i t away , s o tha t Mothe r wouldn' t se e th e smears o f pitch o n th e pockets , or th e bit s o f bark an d pine stickin g t o th e hem . Good, clean , quiet , obedien t Grace . [22]
Grace She had othe r thoughts , too ; that' s wha t sh e tol d me later . Sh e tol d m e tha t whe n sh e wa s a child , hiding i n th e Wood s wit h th e sparrow s aroun d he r ears, sh e ha d dreame d o f finding gem s tones lodge d among th e tree trunks. Diamonds and rubies and em eralds an d opals , stuck awa y betwee n th e toe s o f th e trees. Grace though t abou t the m again , a s sh e climbe d in her bar e fee t t o th e spo t wher e lov e was glitterin g between th e branches. Finally, sh e reached it . Grace balanced o n a slen der branch , fac e t o face wit h love , terrified o f falling . It wa s al l sh e could d o to reach out , plunge he r han d into th e sof t dar k bundle , an d tuc k i t u p unde r he r armpit. Fo r a spli t second , sh e looke d ou t throug h a gap i n th e pin e cove r int o th e blu e sky , an d dow n over th e yard : ther e wa s th e swingset , an d th e clothesline, an d th e bi g aloo f bac k o f he r mother' s house, all lookin g very small . Then, trembling, Grac e felt he r way back down the tree. Back o n th e ground , Grac e too k th e dar k bundl e out fro m unde r he r arm . Sh e sa w tha t sh e wa s hold ing clothing: a dark cotton shirt (brow n and grey, like the underside of a sparrow) with buttons at the collar and th e cuffs, somebody' s sap-staine d trousers , and a pair of glossy men's shoes , with sock s stuffed int o th e toes, and, tied around i t all, a necktie. [23]
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It wa s th e zippe r tha t ha d caugh t he r eye , glintin g in th e har d Octobe r sun . Grace sprea d th e clothe s ou t ove r a branch ; sh e lit a ne w cigarette ; sh e inhale d deeply , an d watche d the smok e vanis h int o th e treetops . Quietly , Grac e contemplated th e clothes . Sh e though t tha t the y wer e a man' s clothes . Sh e though t tha t sinc e sh e hadn' t seen the m i n th e tre e yesterday , the y ha d bee n pu t i n the tre e today . Sh e though t tha t perhap s somebod y would b e returnin g late r t o clai m them . Sh e though t that sh e woul d lik e t o se e who . Good, clean , quiet , obedien t Grac e rolle d th e clothes u p int o a bundle , an d decide d t o tak e the m away. "That way, " sh e tol d me , "h e ha d t o com e t o me t o get the m back. " Grace pu t th e clothe s unde r a tree . Then sh e wen t into he r mother' s bi g clea n hous e an d go t he r w a r m jacket; sh e too k tw o piece s o f pape r ou t o f a drawer ; on on e sh e wrot e he r mothe r a note . "Mother," Grac e wrote , i n he r perfec t cursive . "Gone t o th e librar y t o wor k o n m y scienc e proj ect. Will b e bac k later . Love , Grace. " It wa s th e secon d li e tha t Grac e ha d eve r tol d he r mother, an d althoug h sh e wouldn't admi t it , I suspec t that sh e thought , a s sh e wrot e it , abou t ho w wel l th e first li e had worked . [24]
Grace Grace's mothe r woul d b e displeased , perhap s even angry . An d thinkin g abou t he r mother' s anger , Grace remembere d t o g o int o he r roo m an d tak e he r science boo k an d he r scienc e notebook , s o tha t he r li e would loo k mor e convincing , later , whe n sh e cam e home fro m th e library . Then Grac e wen t bac k ou t int o th e Woods , wit h her jacke t an d he r scienc e books , an d sh e wrot e an other note . Calmly , i n a straight , neat , firm hand , sh e printed ou t th e words : "N O TRESPASSING. " Sh e didn' t really think , a s sh e wrot e th e note , abou t wh o migh t read it ; sh e didn' t think , a s sh e secure d i t u p i n th e branches o f th e pin e wit h a bobb y pi n fro m he r ow n well-organized hair , wha t th e reactio n t o he r not e might be . An d the n sh e sa t i n th e pin e needles , an d waited. She sai d sh e waite d calmly , bu t I'l l be t tha t sh e was anxious . Afte r all , i t wa s October , an d i t wa s evening; i t wa s gettin g dark , an d m y frien d wa s clutching a stranger' s clothe s i n he r lap . Th e clothe s smelled faintl y o f smoke , an d o f somethin g else , something tha t Grac e ha d neve r smelle d befor e bu t that sh e kne w mus t b e th e smel l o f a man' s skin , clinging t o his clothes . As the su n bega n t o sin k an d i t grew dar k betwee n th e pines , Grac e hugge d th e clothes agains t he r ches t an d inhale d th e unfamilia r scent an d fel t a littl e warmer . [25]
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Her mothe r woul d hav e bee n horrified . But he r mothe r didn' t know . A s sh e sa t amon g the trees , Grac e ha d hear d he r mothe r com e h o m e — heard he r mother' s footstep s o n th e porch , an d th e snap o f th e bac k doo r slammin g a s sh e carrie d i n th e groceries. Grace' s mothe r woul d hav e rea d th e note ; and whil e Grac e wa s outside , growin g a littl e stif f from th e col d an d d a m p , her mothe r woul d thin k tha t she was a t th e library , workin g o n he r scienc e project . The su n fell , an d soo n i t wa s completel y dar k among th e pines . It wa s quiet , too , except fo r rustlin g noises i n th e treetops , an d th e ver y distan t swish o f the car s passin g o n Mai n Street . Grac e imagine d squirrels i n th e trees , an d middle-age d businessme n in th e cars , headin g hom e t o families , an d pickles , and plate s o f ho t roas t beef . Sh e imagine d he r mother, turnin g o n th e light s i n th e livin g room . Ev ery night , precisel y a t fifteen minute s afte r sunset , Mother turne d o n th e lights ; ever y night , precisel y a t fifteen minute s afte r eleven , sh e turne d the m off , when sh e an d Grac e wen t t o bed . Grace though t a littl e bi t abou t he r dres s fo r th e next day , an d ho w sh e wouldn' t hav e tim e t o press it , and ho w sh e woul d loo k wrinkled , whe n sh e go t ont o the schoo l bus . And the n sh e heard , ver y distinctly , stealth y foot steps crunchin g throug h th e leave s a t th e sid e o f he r [26]
Grace mother's house . Good , clean , quiet , obedien t Grac e huddled dow n amon g th e tree s wit h th e clothe s against he r chest , an d hear d th e footstep s com e closer; sh e hear d th e partin g o f th e pin e branches , and sa w th e tin y glowin g kno b o f hi s cigarett e pas s just abov e he r head . Sh e hear d th e pin e branche s creak a s h e climbed—the n th e crackl e o f paper , an d a voice , softly : "Oh, shit! " There wa s probabl y jus t enoug h lef t o f th e dwin dling Octobe r light—a t least , hig h u p i n th e tree , where he w a s — t o rea d Grace' s note . I t struc k he r a s very funny , Grac e tol d m e later , tha t he r sill y not e could caus e suc h consternation . I t wa s s o funny , sh e said, tha t sh e migh t hav e laughe d aloud—ou t o f ner vousness, of course . There wa s silenc e u p i n th e tre e then , an d silenc e down belo w it . Then, a man' s voic e again : "Who i s that ? I heard yo u laughing , y'know! " She hear d hi m slid e bac k dow n throug h th e tre e and land , wit h a thud , o n th e pine-muffle d earth . Much stumblin g ami d th e branches ; then : "Dammit, giv e m e m y clothes! " Grace laughed ; a cigarett e lighte r flicked ; ther e they were , ey e t o eye , onl y a fe w fee t apart , wit h a thick pin e boug h betwee n them . H e wa s young— a [27]
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year o r tw o olde r tha n Grace , perhaps—wit h thic k curly blac k hair , recedin g a littl e bi t a t th e temples , and dar k eyes . "You've go t m y clothes, " h e said . H e coul d se e them. Grac e stil l ha d them , clutche d agains t he r chest. "Yes," she said . "Well, hand 'e m over! " He hel d ou t hi s h a n d an d th e cigarett e lighte r went out , s o tha t h e wa s jus t a silhouett e again . "No," Grac e said . Many year s later , Grac e tol d me , sh e couldn' t be lieve tha t sh e ha d sai d it . Good , clean , quiet—sud denly not-so-obedien t Grace ? "Hey, they'r e mine, " h e said , an d too k a ste p to ward h e r — a ste p tha t migh t hav e bee n threatening , except tha t h e ha d forgotte n th e thic k branc h be tween them . "Listen , lady , you'v e go t n o righ t t o kee p my clothes! " "I'm no t a lady," Grac e snapped , thinkin g abou t the girl s o n th e bus , an d thei r bubblegu m perfum e (seventeen? or forty?). "I' m seventeen , an d you'v e go t no righ t t o leav e you r clothe s i n m y bac k yard! " He wa s quie t then ; Grac e coul d hea r hi m breathing. "You're right, " h e said , voic e ringin g wit h fals e
[28]
Grace contrition. "I' m ver y sorry . Now , wil l yo u giv e m e back m y clothe s ?" Grace hugge d th e bundl e o f clothin g tighte r against he r chest . "Why?" sh e said . "Why? Becaus e they'r e min e an d I nee d them , that's why. " "I mean, " Grac e said , carefully , "wh y di d yo u leave the m here ? I mean, " sh e continued , gigglin g a little (ou t o f nervousness , o f course) , "don' t yo u nee d to wea r you r clothes? " He wa s wearin g clothes , o f course ; sh e ha d see n in th e snatc h o f lighter-ligh t tha t h e ha d o n dirty looking jeans, a flanne l shirt , an d sneakers . "Listen," h e said , suddenl y humbled , "pleas e giv e me th e clothes . M y ol d lady'l l kil l m e i f I com e hom e like this. " All a t once , Grac e wa s interested ; sh e migh t hav e been thinkin g abou t he r ow n orderl y mother , watch ing televisio n i n th e bi g whit e house—an d probabl y checking th e clock , and wonderin g whe n Grac e woul d be home . The youn g man' s voic e droppe d lower , becam e suddenly confidential . "Sh e think s I' m working, " h e said. "S o I g o ou t ever y da y i n those, " h e gesture d toward th e clothe s Grac e wa s holding , a littl e bi t les s
[29]
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tenaciously, i n he r lap , "an d the n I sto p here , an d I change int o these , an d of f I go . Sam e thin g a t night , only i n reverse. " He didn' t sa y wher e h e went , an d Grac e didn' t ask. Somethin g stirre d i n th e branche s abov e them , and pin e needle s tinkle d past . "All right, " sh e said , an d hel d ou t th e sof t bundl e at arm' s length . "Yo u ca n hav e you r clothe s back. " He reache d ou t an d too k th e clothes . Hi s fingers might hav e touche d her s whe n h e too k them . I f the y had (an d o n thi s poin t m y frien d preserve s a sphinxlike silence) , i t migh t hav e bee n th e firs t tim e that a man' s h a n d ha d touche d hers . Except fo r Father' s han d o f course : an d tha t wa s different. Once h e too k th e clothes , though , h e seeme d t o forget h e r — h e seeme d t o assum e tha t Grac e ha d gone, melte d bac k int o th e branche s perhaps . H e turned hi s back . M y friend , wh o ha d alway s bee n s o polite, foun d i t ver y rud e indeed : tha t broa d back , turned awa y fro m her . A s sh e watched , h e pulle d th e flannel shir t u p ove r hi s head ; then , bac k stil l turned , he steppe d ou t o f hi s jean s an d hun g the m o n a tree . In th e dar k hi s pal e ski n glowed , indistinctly , lik e a ghost o r a will-o'-the-wisp . My frien d Grace , crouche d amon g th e trees , trie d
[30]
Grace very h a r d t o becom e invisible . Sh e ha d succeede d before, man y times ; cowerin g befor e Mothe r o r math ematics o r th e taunt s o f th e childre n o n th e schoo l bus, sh e coul d disappea r insid e hersel f unti l sh e be came, mos t assuredly , transparent . Bu t thi s tim e sh e couldn't; somethin g hel d he r back . Many year s later , sh e confide d somethin g tha t sh e could neve r hav e tol d he r mother . "I wanted t o look," sh e said . So sh e looked ; an d I think tha t sh e sa w ver y little , there i n th e dark , i n October , betwee n th e trees . My frien d wa s bot h tantalize d an d afraid , ther e among th e d a m p root s o f he r childhood . Wha t coul d she hav e bee n afrai d of ? Mothe r ha d neve r tol d he r anything; Grac e wa s perfectly , politely , innocent . Still, sh e wa s filled wit h a forebodin g tha t th e youn g man, i n hi s ignorance , seeme d unwillin g t o confirm ; for h e trul y seeme d t o hav e forgotte n her . H e but toned u p hi s forma l shir t an d pulle d o n hi s trousers ; he eve n pu t o n hi s shoes , al l withou t lookin g aroun d even once . Withi n minute s h e wa s transforme d fro m a sylp h t o a businessman—excep t tha t hi s ti e wa s left loos e an d hun g fre e aroun d hi s neck . Grac e thought sh e coul d hav e me t hi m a t a n offic e some where, o r mayb e h e woul d b e travelin g doo r t o door . "How d o yo u do , M a ' a m / ' he' d say , an d han d a
[31 ]
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catalogue acros s th e fron t stoop . Grace giggled , imag ining hersel f i n a housecoa t an d curlers , answerin g the door . Then h e turne d a r o u n d — h e remembere d tha t sh e was there . "You watched, " h e said . Grace stoo d u p . Sh e ha d he r scienc e book s unde r her a r m . "Yes," sh e said . Afte r all , wha t wa s th e poin t o f lying? He cam e towar d he r then , aroun d th e tree , unti l he wa s standin g ver y close . I n th e dark , sh e couldn' t see th e expressio n i n hi s eyes . He touche d he r face . "Do you lik e t o watch? " he asked . Then h e kisse d her . Hi s lip s fel t har d an d dr y an d awkward agains t hers ; his whisker s scratche d agains t her cheek . Grac e gasped , stumble d backward s against a tree , turne d aroun d . . . an d ran . Sh e thought sh e hear d hi m runnin g behin d her , imagine d his han d reachin g ou t fo r he r dress , fo r he r hai r (th e bun, whic h sh e ha d woun d u p s o carefull y jus t thi s morning, ha d falle n out , an d no w he r hai r wa s dow n around he r shoulders , hairpins an d all) ; but whe n sh e emerged fro m th e Wood s int o th e ligh t a t th e bac k o f her mother' s bi g whit e house , n o on e wa s there . Th e thick lin e o f pine s wa s completel y dark , completel y silent. H e hadn' t chase d her . [32]
Grace She'd bee n runnin g fro m nothing . Grace stoope d amon g he r mother' s bushe s t o straighten he r dres s an d retwis t he r hair . Sh e sa w that a singl e ligh t wa s o n i n th e livin g room , jus t lik e always. Thi s evening , lik e ever y evenin g Grac e coul d remember, Mothe r woul d b e sittin g o n th e couch , watching television ; thi s evening , lik e ever y other , she woul d expec t Grac e t o com e insid e quietly , se t u p the ironin g board , an d begi n t o pres s he r clothe s fo r the nex t day . And Grac e di d g o in ; sh e wen t straigh t t o th e living room , wit h he r scienc e book s cradle d i n he r arms, t o kis s he r mothe r goodnight . Bu t sh e didn' t press an y dresses ; instea d sh e wen t upstairs , an d sa t in th e dar k b y th e window , watchin g th e Woods , an d waiting. Sh e waite d unti l midnight , an d whe n n o on e appeared, Grac e kne w tha t sh e mus t hav e misse d him; tha t whil e sh e ha d bee n runnin g bac k towar d her mother' s house , h e ha d bee n runnin g i n th e oppo site direction . H e ha d emerge d ont o Mai n Street , with hi s bundl e o f clothes ; h e ha d gon e home . Grace la y awak e i n th e dar k fo r a lon g time . Whe n she finally slept , sh e dreamed , darkly , o f kisses . The nex t morning , an d fo r al l th e morning s tha t would follow , Grac e didn' t twis t u p he r hair . Sh e pressed he r dresse s les s an d less : first ever y othe r evening, the n ever y thir d evening , the n hardl y a t all . [33]
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Her mothe r notice d somethin g ne w abou t her : a sor t of laxity , a softness , somethin g unstarched ; a s i f something tha t ha d bee n covere d u p fo r a ver y lon g time had finally com e free .
[34]
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here wer e the y whe n i t started ? Nobod y knows anymore , nobod y cares . Elspet h and Sabin a wer e fighting i n th e bac k seat , Pearl' s shoulders i n th e paisle y blous e wer e stif f an d straigh t in th e fron t seat , Dadd y behin d th e steerin g whee l seemed unimportan t t o al l o f them , excep t tha t th e smoke fro m hi s cigarett e wa s givin g Pear l a headach e she though t sh e woul d neve r forgiv e hi m for . Lot s o f stuff wa s passin g b y outsid e th e windows : crowde d trees wit h blood-re d top s an d sli m blac k trunks , clea r crooning stream s distille d throug h granite-pebble d banks, sof t mountain s wit h thei r top s burie d moodil y in cloud . Bu t Elspet h an d Sabin a wer e fighting ove r a pink-backe d mirror , an d Pear l wit h th e blosso m o f pain behin d he r ea r stare d withou t seein g anything . Maybe Dadd y wa s listenin g t o th e we t tickin g o f th e tires o n th e d a m p pavement . They ha d alread y passe d s o many roadsid e stand s [37]
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with handwritte n sign s tha t sai d Apples , Cider , Ma ple Syrup , tha t Dadd y ha d stoppe d pointin g the m out. Certain thing s ar e wort h knowing : th e twins , i n the bac k seat , wer e desperat e t o tak e possessio n o f the mirror , i n spit e o f th e fac t tha t eac h on e sa w he r reflection i n th e fac e o f th e other . Pearl , who wor e th e paisley blouse , was no t thei r mother . Sh e wishe d the y had no t come . When Dadd y ha d stoppe d t o pick the m up a t th e hom e o f hi s forme r wife , the y ha d bee n sitting o n th e floor , drawing . Ho w cute , ho w sweet , Daddy migh t hav e thought . Thi s i s wha t the y ha d been drawing : picture s o f Pearl , wit h tal l gree n curli cue hai r an d a fa t orang e bod y mad e o f ovoid s tha t reminded Dadd y o f turds . Daddy drov e silentl y wit h th e cigarett e hangin g from hi s mouth . Hi s cheek s wer e covere d wit h gre y stubble. Pearl's hai r wa s no t reall y green , bu t i t wa s ver y tall. I t di d ris e i n blon d curlicue s towar d th e roo f o f the car . Sabina an d Elspet h wor e their fine blon d hai r tie d back fro m thei r face s i n littl e pin k bows , jus t lik e one wor n b y thei r mothe r tha t morning , whe n Dadd y came t o pic k the m up . The ca r window s wer e dirty . Al l th e stuf f passin g by outsid e looke d dulle r becaus e o f that . An d i n fac t [38]
The Drive the sk y wa s grey . Th e cloud s wer e ver y low ; tha t wa s why n o on e i n th e ca r coul d hav e see n th e mountains , if they ha d care d t o look . But the y could , i f the y ha d care d t o rol l dow n th e windows, hav e breathe d i n wit h dar k forebodin g th e scent o f dee p forest , rottin g leaves , col d wate r ove r stone. Instead the y breathe d th e smok e fro m Daddy' s cigarette. The ca r wa s rollin g ove r a d a m p stretc h o f road , deserted. We t leave s stuc k t o th e tires , s o tha t the y seemed t o tick . Eventually, Pear l bega n t o talk . Sh e talke d abou t her headache . Sh e talke d abou t th e twins . "Jesu s Christ," sai d Pearl , "i f yo u can' t contro l you r ow n children. Yo u hav e t o star t somewhere , controllin g something, instea d o f makin g me suffer , a s alway s I'm th e on e wh o get s th e headache , it' s neve r you, now, i s it ? I s it? " Pearl presse d he r hand , wit h it s flamingo pin k fingernails, t o th e bac k o f her neck . "You're right , o f course , Pearl, " sai d Daddy , list lessly. Maybe tha t wa s whe n i t started . Mayb e i t ha d already starte d then , althoug h Dadd y didn' t tel l them. Sabina an d Elspet h stoppe d fighting i n th e bac k [39]
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seat t o liste n t o Pear l talk . I f the y ha d ha d piece s o f paper, the y woul d hav e draw n he r lik e this : thre e barking head s emergin g fro m th e colla r o f th e paisle y blouse, a fa t roun d bod y culminatin g i n hooves rathe r than feet . Sh e migh t hav e ha d a tail , too . Pearl wa s stil l talking . "Naturally , I hav e t o com e up wit h all th e ideas . I f no t fo r m e w e woul d si t a t home i n th e livin g roo m all th e time . An d the n wha t do yo u do? " Elspeth poke d he r hea d ove r th e fron t seat . "Daddy," sh e said . Daddy ignore d her , althoug h Pear l stoppe d talk ing suddenly , wit h he r mout h stil l open . "Daddy," Elspet h insisted , " I have t o piss" "My God" sai d Pearl , throwin g u p he r hands . "D o you se e w h a t I mean? Do you see what I mean?" Daddy didn' t loo k awa y fro m th e road . "Simme r down, now, " he said . "Daddy!" "Elspeth, honey , I heard you, " Dadd y sighed . He sighe d becaus e th e roa d laughe d wetl y ahead , up an d dow n hills , withou t an y sig n o f a res t are a o r a roadsid e stand . Onl y tree s tha t crowde d clos e t o the pavement . For awhile , everyon e sa t i n silence , except fo r Els peth. Sh e bounce d aroun d i n th e bac k seat , crossin g and uncrossin g he r leg s i n thei r whit e tights . [40]
The Drive Sabina gaze d a t he r reflectio n i n th e pink-backe d mirror, lookin g sometime s a t he r twin , a s i f fo r ref erence. "My God, " groane d Pearl . "T o thin k tha t thi s wa s all m y idea . T o thin k tha t I let mysel f i n fo r this! " Sh e delicately patte d he r curlicu e hair . "Now, Pearl, " sai d Daddy . "Oh no ! No , no , no, " Pear l laughed . "You'r e no t going t o star t shushin g m e fo r thei r sake! " She glance d bac k a t th e twin s fro m th e corne r o f her eye . Tha t wa s th e onl y wa y sh e eve r looke d a t them. The y ha d draw n picture s o f he r wit h triangle s at th e side s o f her face , instea d o f eyes . They ha d don e s o tha t ver y morning , jus t befor e Daddy cam e t o pic k the m u p . O f cours e i t wasn' t a surprise whe n h e came , bu t thei r mothe r pretende d that i t was , anyway . Everyon e kne w sh e wa s jus t pretending. Sh e neve r woul d hav e bee n u p s o earl y with a pin k bo w alread y i n he r hai r unles s sh e ha d known Dadd y wa s coming . Sh e woul d hav e bee n i n bed wit h he r eye s shu t tigh t an d th e cover s pulle d u p under he r chin . Th e twin s woul d hav e bee n down stairs i n th e kitchen , makin g mil k puddle s o n th e table an d shootin g sogg y cerea l bac k an d fort h wit h their spoons . Instea d whe n Dadd y ran g th e doorbell , it wa s clea r everyon e ha d bee n u p fo r hours . "Oh well, " thei r mothe r ha d sai d whe n sh e [41 ]
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opened th e doo r an d sa w Dadd y standin g o n th e porch. "Her e yo u are . What a nic e surprise. " From wher e th e twin s sa t o n th e floor, i t looke d as thoug h th e entir e horizo n o f fences an d house s an d back yard s wa s balance d o n Daddy' s shoulders , a s i f he ha d com e a lon g wa y t o se e them , carryin g morn ing o n hi s back . Th e bar e branche s o f a mapl e tre e poked u p behin d hi s hea d lik e antlers . The twin s laughe d a t that . "I though t I woul d tak e th e girl s fo r a drive, " Daddy said . "A drive ! Ho w nice ! Wha t a nic e idea . A drive. " And thei r mothe r steppe d bac k fro m th e doo r s o Daddy coul d finally com e inside , althoug h eve r sinc e he ha d stoppe d livin g there , he didn' t lik e t o g o muc h beyond th e threshold . "Elspeth! Sabina! " thei r mothe r called , comin g closer t o the m tha n usua l an d smilin g wide . "You r daddy's here . He's goin g t o tak e yo u fo r a drive!" Elspeth an d Sabin a i n thei r littl e dresse s an d white tight s wer e to o bus y drawin g picture s o f Pear l to notic e thei r mothe r a t all . "Girls! Isn' t i t exciting ! T o ge t t o g o fo r a driv e with you r daddy! " Elspeth, withou t puttin g dow n he r crayons , said , "Only i f she's no t going! " Then Elspet h peeke d ou t fro m behin d he r fine [42]
The Drive blond hair , i n tim e t o se e a smir k appea r o n he r mother's face . A t th e sam e tim e Daddy' s bi g fake happy gri n disappeare d altogether . "Why, honey! " thei r mothe r said . "Wha t d o yo u mean? Onl y i f who's no t going? " "Her!" chirpe d Sabina , pointin g a t th e drawin g o f Pearl, wit h he r to o tal l hai r an d eye s lik e half-dia monds. "Of cours e tha t awfu l woma n isn' t going . You r daddy wouldn' t d o tha t t o his tw o favorit e girls! " Then thei r mothe r wen t of f dow n th e hal l t o ge t Elspeth an d Sabina' s matchin g jackets . "Now hav e a grea t time! " sh e said , zippin g the m up an d pushin g the m towar d th e door . Daddy grabbe d bot h o f the m i n a bi g hu g th e minute the y wer e outside , t o sho w h e wa s s o happ y to se e them . "Ho w ar e you , favorit e girls? " he said . Elspeth an d Sabin a giggle d i n Daddy' s grip , a s together the y crosse d th e fron t lawn . A fe w leave s that ha d alread y falle n tickle d aroun d thei r ankles . I t was ver y col d outsid e an d th e mornin g wa s alread y heavy wit h clouds . "Maybe i t isn' t th e bes t da y t o g o fo r a drive , bu t I fee l sur e i f w e kee p ou r fingers crosse d thes e cloud s will al l ge t blow n bac k wher e the y cam e from, " Daddy said . "Right? " "Right!" shoute d Elspet h an d Sabina . [43]
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Daddy hel d ont o the m unti l the y go t t o th e car , so ther e wa s n o wa y th e twin s coul d ru n bac k t o the hous e whe n the y sa w Pear l sittin g i n th e fron t seat. "Now," Dadd y said , "we'r e al l se t t o hav e a grea t time!" But Elspet h an d Sabin a refuse d t o speak . The y sat sid e b y sid e i n th e bac k seat , starin g angril y a t Pearl's curlicu e hair . When th e ca r backe d ou t o f th e drivewa y an d pulled away , thei r mothe r wasn' t standin g a t th e din ing roo m windo w t o wav e goodbye . "I'm bored, " Elspet h said . She sai d i t wheneve r the y passe d throug h an other town : "I'm bored . Thi s plac e i s boring. " And Sabin a added , "Ar e w e ther e yet? " The insid e o f th e ca r smelle d o f bologn a sand wiches an d pickles , packe d b y Pear l i n littl e pape r bags. Daddy drov e north , towar d th e mountains . Ever y time the y bothere d t o loo k ou t th e windows , Elspet h and Sabin a sa w fewe r houses , mor e tree s an d cragg y stone walls . Sometime s littl e fields flashed by , wher e horses th e colo r o f chestnuts hun g thei r sa d lon g face s toward th e road .
[44]
The Drive "Those horse s woul d b e happier/ ' sai d Elspeth , "i f they wer e free. " "Sure/' sai d Pearl , withou t turnin g around . "Maybe yo u coul d g o an d le t the m al l out , Elspeth. " "I could," sai d Elspeth . "I f Dadd y stoppe d th e car , I could. " Pearl ha d reache d int o he r purs e an d take n ou t a flamingo pin k tub e o f lipstick . Th e twin s watche d from behin d a s sh e painte d he r lips . The y coul d se e just he r lip s an d a littl e bi t o f her nos e reflecte d i n th e mirror sh e hel d u p i n fron t o f her face . "Sure," sai d Pearl . "That' s fine. Yo u le t al l thos e horses ou t o f thei r yards , an d wha t d o yo u suppos e happens then ? The y al l starv e t o death . O r the y wal k across th e roa d an d ge t squashe d flat . Hah! " Pear l sneered. "That' s wha t happens , dear , whe n yo u se t things free. " "The wil d mustang s wer e free, " sai d Sabina . But Pear l didn' t bothe r t o answer . Sh e wa s to o busy puttin g awa y he r lipstick . Elspeth leane d ove r th e fron t sea t an d trie d t o tickle Daddy' s ea r wit h he r fingernail. "Stop that , honey, " Dadd y said . "It' s dangerou s t o do tha t whe n I' m driving. " Elspeth leane d forwar d eve n further , an d scoope d Pearl's purs e int o th e bac k seat .
[45]
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"Hey!" shoute d Pearl . "Sto p that ! Giv e m e that ! Make the m giv e m e tha t back! " "Take i t easy, " Dadd y said . "They'r e jus t playing . Maybe it'l l kee p the m quie t fo r awhile. " As h e sai d thi s h e pu t hi s han d ove r Pearl' s knobby knee . Pearl gav e Dadd y a n awfu l loo k tha t cam e fro m her mout h an d th e corner s o f her eyes . "I won't forge t this, Dave, " she said . " I won't. Yo u mar k m y words. " Daddy squeeze d Pearl' s kne e an d bega n t o whistle. The twin s ha d opene d u p Pearl' s purse . Nothin g in i t seeme d ver y interesting . Ther e wer e shred s o f yellow Kleenex , a comb , th e brigh t lipstick , empt y gum wrappers , keys . They onl y like d th e mirror , an d so Elspet h thre w th e purs e bac k ont o th e fron t seat . "Thank God, " sai d Pearl , an d tucke d th e purs e carefully unde r he r heels . Elspeth an d Sabin a tugge d a t th e mirror . Sabin a looked u p onc e an d said , "Ar e w e ther e yet? " Daddy didn' t bothe r t o answer , s o Pear l an d th e twins looke d ou t th e dust y window s a t th e root s o f the mountains . The y passe d gre y house s tha t slouched int o mudd y lawns , tooth y far m machiner y that grinne d uselessl y i n fields o f yello w an d brow n stubble. "Look a t thos e leaves! " sai d Daddy . "Jus t loo k a t [46]
The Drive those colors ! Almos t a s prett y a s m y tw o favorit e girls!" Dadd y laughe d an d Pear l pulle d he r b u m p y knee ou t fro m unde r hi s palm . "Why aren' t w e stoppin g yet? " Sabin a shouted . "If we'r e her e the n wh y aren' t w e stopping? " "Sure, honey/ ' Dadd y said . "Sure . We'l l stop . Th e next plac e w e see , we'll stop. " The we t roa d ticke d beneat h th e wheel s o f th e car. The y wen t u p a hil l an d aroun d a thic k stan d o f blotchy re d tree s an d the n Dadd y sa w a sig n tha t sai d "Gifts. Horsebac k Rides . $3.00. " "Oh no, " sai d Pearl . "No , no , no , Dave . They'l l smell lik e animal s al l day . Yo u kno w I can' t stan d that." But i t wa s to o late . Dadd y ha d alread y pulle d th e car of f th e road , an d the y al l bumpe d u p an d dow n a s it crosse d th e grass , finally comin g t o a sto p besid e a weary-looking wir e fence . Behin d th e fence , a fa t black pon y wearin g a saddl e an d halte r nibble d a t the grass . It s breat h puffe d ou t a t th e twin s a s the y ran t o lac e thei r fingers throug h th e loop s o f th e fence. A little furthe r dow n th e roa d wa s th e whit e gif t shop. Silve r chime s i n th e shap e o f maple leave s hun g in th e windows . "Jesus Christ , Dave, " sai d Pearl , huddlin g an d slapping he r a r m s togethe r i n he r wid e fu r coat . "It' s [47]
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too col d fo r this . When I sai d a driv e I mean t a drive , for God' s sake , no t a wal k i n th e wilderness . Bu t I should hav e known , I shoul d alway s kno w bette r when i t conie s t o you , Dave. " Daddy ha d turne d hi s bac k o n Pearl , an d stoo d with th e twins , leanin g agains t th e wir e fence . Th e pony ha d stoppe d nibblin g an d hal f lifte d it s hea d t o stare bac k a t them . Pear l too k a fe w step s towar d Daddy, bu t the n sh e stopped . He r heel s wobble d to o much o n th e rutte d ground . "Nothing's to o goo d fo r m y favorit e girls, " Dadd y said, loudly . A smal l m a n i n a gree n park a emerge d fro m th e gift shop . H e walke d crookedly , wit h hi s hea d ben t slightly t o th e left . "Hiya," h e said . "Com e t o tak e a ride? " "Sure," sai d Daddy . "M y favorit e girl s woul d lik e to tak e a spi n o n you r pony. " "You bet! " Th e m a n i n th e gree n park a opene d the gat e an d whistled . Th e pony swun g it s head away . "Your hors e woul d b e happier, " Elspet h said , "i f he wer e free. " But th e m a n i n th e gree n park a grabbe d th e hal ter an d tugge d th e pon y ove r t o th e gat e anyway . Daddy picke d Elspet h u p b y th e wais t an d ploppe d her ont o th e saddle . He r shor t legs , plumpl y encase d in th e whit e tights , barel y reache d th e stirrups . [48]
The Drive "Now it' s you r turn! " Dadd y laughed , an d grabbed Sabina . Bu t Sabin a struggled , flingin g he r legs around , tryin g t o wriggl e ou t o f Daddy' s grasp . "No!" she shouted . " I want t o si t i n th e front ! Wh y does sh e ge t t o si t i n th e front! " Sabina's flyin g leg s mad e contact : wit h th e pony's dust y flan k an d wit h Daddy' s chest . Th e pon y shied away , it s eye s rolle d u p white . Dadd y le t Sa bina fal l t o th e groun d an d leane d bac k agains t th e fence, rubbin g hi s chest . The m a n i n th e gree n park a hel d th e blac k pon y steady, wit h Elspet h stil l swayin g o n it s back . Bu t then h e turne d t o Sabina , neve r lettin g g o o f th e halter. "You ca n rid e i n fron t th e nex t time, " he said . Sabina smile d coyl y an d go t u p fro m th e ground , revealing a brow n an d gree n stai n o n th e sea t o f he r tights. Th e ma n i n th e park a lifte d he r ont o th e sad dle behin d he r twin . "Hold on , now! " he advised , an d bega n t o lea d th e pony slowl y aroun d th e field . Daddy an d Pear l watche d th e pony' s fa t recedin g form. Littl e burst s o f laughter fro m th e twin s reache d them ever y no w an d then . "There," sai d Pearl . "No w yo u see . D o you believ e me now ? Mar k m y words, " sai d Pearl . "Wheneve r they com e wit h u s there' s som e kin d o f disaster! " [49]
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She stoo d precariousl y o n he r heels , separate d from Dadd y b y th e fold s o f th e wir e fence . Dadd y wa s bent slightly , massagin g hi s chest . H e hadn' t caugh t his breat h yet . Slowly, th e pon y le d b y th e ma n i n th e gree n parka mad e it s wa y aroun d th e field. A s the y passe d Daddy an d Pearl , th e twin s coul d hea r Pear l talking . "Maybe you'l l mar k m y words , Dave . Don' t thin k I'll hesitat e . . ." Her voic e ros e o n th e col d d a m p air , the n fade d like a spira l o f smok e a s th e pon y move d away . Pearl wa s walkin g awa y fro m Daddy . Sh e wa s walking unsteadil y towar d th e whit e gif t shop . Dadd y watched he r g o withou t callin g he r back . Th e win d parted th e fu r o f he r coa t an d expose d th e dar k root s of her hair . The twin s laughe d happil y a t th e m a n i n th e green parka , wh o ha d no w helpe d the m t o switc h places o n th e saddle , Sabin a i n fron t thi s time . Daddy looke d a t th e ground . Then h e followe d Pearl . The y walke d on e behin d the othe r alon g th e roa d t o th e whit e gif t shop . Pearl wa s unawar e o f Dadd y followin g her . Sh e didn't slo w down . Dadd y coul d hea r th e mapl e lea f chimes ringin g a s sh e opene d th e doo r o f th e whit e building an d disappeare d inside . Daddy sa t dow n o n th e step s o f th e gif t sho p an d [50]
The Drive hugged hi s a r m s aroun d hi s chest . The n afte r awhil e he li t a cigarette . Th e m a n i n th e gree n park a cam e u p , leadin g a twi n wit h eac h hand . "There y'go, " h e said , an d grinne d a t Daddy . H e looked ver y strange , grinnin g s o muc h wit h hi s hea d bent towar d hi s lef t shoulder . Finall y Dadd y hande d him som e money , an d th e m a n wit h th e park a ges tured towar d Daddy' s chest . "Are you okay? " he asked . "Sure," Dadd y said , tossin g hi s cigarett e o n th e ground. "Jus t a littl e bruised. " "Better g o inside, " sai d th e m a n wit h th e parka . "Too cold t o si t ou t here. " So Dadd y stoo d up , an d followe d hi m int o th e gift shop . Immediately , everyon e sa w Pear l hunche d over a glas s case , peerin g a t th e turquois e jewelr y inside it . Th e twin s ra n of f i n th e othe r directio n toward a rac k o f imitatio n India n spear s wit h rub ber heads . Dadd y snuc k u p behin d Pear l unti l h e was clos e enoug h t o pu t hi s han d o n th e nap e o f he r neck. "Whatcha lookin g at? " he whispered . Pearl gav e a littl e j u m p . The n withou t turnin g she hisse d "Nothing! " But jus t th e same , Dadd y bough t he r a turquois e and silve r rin g befor e the y left . Elspet h an d Sabin a stared silentl y a s Pear l pose d th e han d wit h th e rin g [51]
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on he r hi p o r nex t t o he r hai r s o tha t th e blu e ston e was alway s i n thei r way . They returne d t o th e car , wher e the y at e thei r bologna sandwiche s wit h pickles , lookin g a t th e brown field an d th e lethargi c pony . Then Dadd y starte d th e ca r an d the y drov e on . I t seemed a s thoug h h e h a d give n u p talkin g t o Pear l and Elspet h an d Sabina , h e wa s s o quie t sittin g be hind th e steerin g wheel . Th e roa d turne d betwee n the mountains . Pearl laughe d softl y t o hersel f becaus e ther e wa s nowhere fo r Elspet h t o piss . "What's t o b e s o delicat e for , fo r God' s sake/ ' sai d Pearl. "Jus t pul l th e ca r ove r t o th e sid e o f th e road , Dave. Sh e ca n g o behind a bush. " But Dadd y though t tha t ther e migh t b e a res t area aroun d th e nex t hill , s o he continue d t o drive . "Only th e best, " h e sai d softly , "fo r m y favorit e girls." As h e drove , h e occasionall y caresse d th e spo t where Sabina' s foo t ha d lande d wit h th e hee l o f on e hand. "Daddy," Elspet h insisted . "Yes, honey," Dadd y said . " I know. " "So delicate, " sai d Pearl . "Wh y bothe r whe n the y already smel l lik e animals? " [52]
The Drive The ca r dippe d dow n a sid e roa d alon g th e edg e of a mountain . Th e tree s wer e s o tal l an d th e roa d s o narrow tha t th e sk y disappeare d behin d startlin g re d and yello w leaves . "Dave!" Pear l protested . "Wher e th e hel l ar e yo u going?" "There's a plac e t o sto p dow n here, " Dadd y said . "I remembe r i t perfectly . A littl e amusemen t par k and a pettin g zoo. " "You mea n you'v e bee n her e before?" "I'm sur e o f it, " Dadd y said . Rust an d cream-colore d bird s flashe d betwee n the blac k tre e trunks . "Dave," Pear l said , " I don' t thin k there' s anythin g down here . Nothing. " Daddy wince d a littl e bit , behin d th e steerin g wheel. "What's wrong? " Pear l asked . "Nothing," Dadd y sai d vaguely . "Backache. " Sabina, leanin g nea r th e window , tilte d th e mir ror bac k s o tha t i t reflecte d th e leave s lik e delicate , bobbing faces . Sh e laughe d softl y a t th e reflection . "If you' d listene d t o m e i n th e first plac e . . ." Pearl began , bu t the n sh e le t th e sentenc e go , becaus e the roa d befor e the m suddenl y gre w narrower . Dadd y had take n anothe r turn-of f an d no w th e nos e o f th e car wa s pointe d straigh t dow n th e sid e o f th e moun [53]
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tain, s o tha t Pear l ha d t o brac e he r arm s agains t the dashboard . "I thin k i t wa s thi s road, " Dadd y said . " I remem ber thes e beautifu l trees. " "Dave," Pear l said , "ar e yo u crazy ? There' s noth ing here . Turn thi s ca r aroun d righ t now. " "Daddy," Elspet h said , "ar e w e almos t there? " "Yes, honey. Almost. " Daddy too k anothe r turn . Lookin g ou t th e win dows, Pear l an d th e twin s coul d se e th e thic k dar k soil o f th e mountain s pushe d u p betwee n th e twiste d toes o f th e trees . The crabbe d branche s o f pine s hun g nearly t o th e ground . I n places , chunk s o f granit e protruded fro m th e earth , drippin g shin y stream s o f water. "I'm tellin g yo u now, " Pear l said . "Tur n thi s ca r around." But Dadd y wouldn' t tur n around . H e wouldn' t answer Pearl . Hi s fac e wa s pale , s o tha t th e gre y stubble o n hi s cheek s looke d dark . H e clutched a ciga rette, unlit , betwee n hi s teeth . "Daddy!" Elspet h shouted . "Daddy ! I hav e t o pis s now! I have t o g o real bad! " Daddy steppe d o n th e brak e s o har d tha t every one wa s throw n forward . Th e ca r swun g hal f of f th e road an d the n stoppe d wit h tw o tire s o n th e pave -
[54]
The Drive ment an d tw o i n th e dirt . The n Dadd y leane d hi s head agains t th e steerin g wheel . H e rubbe d hi s ches t with th e pal m o f his hand . Because Dadd y didn' t speak , Pear l turne d t o th e twins. "Well , I hop e you'r e satisfie d now, " sh e said . "Get ou t o f th e ca r an d piss" Elspeth an d Sabin a looke d a t eac h othe r an d gig gled. Elspet h pushe d ope n th e bac k door , an d the y ran ou t int o th e trees . The y lef t th e mirro r lying , fac e up, o n th e seat . Pear l hear d a fain t childis h voic e call : "Don't peek! " "Christ," sai d Pearl . "A s i f I' d wan t t o peek . A s if I have an y reaso n o n eart h t o peek. " But Dadd y didn' t respond . H e leane d agains t th e steering wheel , breathin g hard . "Don't giv e m e an y cra p now , Dave, " Pear l said . "After al l I'v e pu t u p wit h toda y an d al l th e othe r days jus t lik e today . Yo u mar k m y words , Dave , changes ar e coming . Mar k m y words! " Daddy wouldn' t mar k he r words . H e wouldn' t even answer . H e ha d stoppe d rubbin g hi s chest , though. Instea d h e trie d t o ligh t hi s cigarette . Pear l noticed th e wa y hi s hand s shook . "Dave!" sh e said . "What' s wrong ? D o yo u hav e a pain? " Daddy nodded , wordlessly .
[55]
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"Where's th e pain , Dave? " "Everywhere/' Dadd y said . H e wa s breathin g hard. "Fine," sai d Pearl . "Fine . Don't tel l me . You neve r tell m e wha t I reall y nee d t o know . An d no w I sup pose I hav e t o craw l aroun d ou t i n th e wood s t o find those d a m n brat s o f yours. " Pearl mad e a lou d sighin g nois e an d shove d th e door open . "I'l l find them, " sh e said , "an d whil e I' m gone yo u ca n jus t ge t ove r tha t pain . It' s nothin g yo u didn't brin g o n yourself. " Pearl's heel s san k int o th e velvet y soil . Sh e slammed th e ca r doo r har d an d wobble d of f betwee n the trees . "Men, " Pear l wa s muttering . "Brats . Mar k my words. " Then sh e raised he r voic e to call "Elspeth ! Sabina! Hurr y u p now ! It' s tim e t o go! " Branches scrape d agains t eac h other . Leave s rat tled. Pear l tiptoe d a littl e farthe r betwee n th e trees . "Elspeth! Sabina! " Pearl though t sh e hear d a giggle . Sh e turne d around an d around . Brigh t mapl e leave s nodde d a t her, jeeringly . "Cut i t ou t now ! Just cu t ou t thi s game! " Pearl pushe d som e branche s aside . Drop s o f wa ter splattere d i n he r face . "Dammit!" sh e shouted . "Sto p thi s gam e o r w e will leave you here!" [56]
The Drive She hear d th e soun d o f laughter , an d s o sh e shoved throug h mor e branches , an d foun d hersel f standing o n th e edg e o f a strea m wit h a rock y bed . Her heel s tilte d o n th e edge . Sh e steppe d bac k quickly. "Elspeth! Sabina! " But n o on e wa s there . Pearl sa w a pin k ribbo n float b y o n th e water . I t twisted gracefull y ove r th e rocks , twirle d lik e a but terfly. "Jesus Christ! " sai d Pearl , an d bega n t o follow th e edge o f th e stream . Sh e hel d ont o slipper y branche s to kee p he r balance . A we t spide r we b stuc k acros s her face , i n he r curlicu e hair . Sh e pawe d a t he r fac e with he r flamingo pin k nails . Another ribbo n floated b y o n th e stream . "Elspeth! Sabina! " Pearl's heel s stuc k i n th e ground . He r toe s sli d over rock s an d roots . Leave s slappe d i n he r face . Oh Jesus, " sai d Pearl . "O h Jesus . Dav e wil l neve r forgive me. " Her mascar a bega n t o run . Suddenly, Pear l hear d a voice . "Our dadd y woul d b e happier, " th e voic e said , "i f he wer e free! " But whe n sh e looke d around , al l Pear l coul d se e were branche s blac k an d sli m a s penci l lines . [57]
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"Fine!" sh e yelled . "Fine ! Jus t si t ou t her e i n th e woods an d wai t fo r you r dadd y t o com e lookin g fo r you! Just sta y ou t here ! As if I could b e bothered! " Pearl slappe d awa y th e branches . Sh e slappe d he r way bac k t o th e road , an d sa w tha t th e ca r wa s stil l tilted halfwa y of f th e pavement , facin g dow n th e mountain. Fro m wher e sh e stoo d a t th e edg e o f th e trees, Pear l coul d se e tha t Dadd y hadn' t move d a t al l since sh e left . "Jesus!" said Pearl . "Men! " She wobble d towar d th e car , towar d th e windo w on Daddy' s side . She wouldn' t ge t int o th e ca r again . "All right , Dave, " Pear l sai d t o th e window . " I gave yo u thi s chance . I'v e give n yo u othe r chances . Now you'l l ge t wha t yo u reall y want . You'r e free." Pearl walke d of f alon g th e roa d i n th e directio n she wante d Dadd y t o tur n th e car . I t wa s a stee p road, an d s o Pear l ha d t o stoo p a littl e bi t t o clim b it . But Dadd y didn' t watc h he r go . H e didn' t bothe r t o massage hi s chest . H e ha d le t th e unli t cigarett e fal l onto th e fron t seat . The win d parte d Pearl' s curlicu e hair . I t parte d the fu r o n he r coat , revealin g th e sof t whit e un derdown. Elspeth an d Sabin a knel t beneat h a pin e tre e i n their whit e tights . The y ha d pushe d asid e th e falle n
[58]
The Drive needles s o tha t the y coul d dra w picture s o f Pear l o n the groun d wit h thei r fingers. The y wer e lookin g a t each other , an d laughing . Their blon d hai r hun g fre e around thei r soft whit e faces .
[59]
•• •
Crazy Water (Fragments of a Vacation)
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t rain s becaus e i t must ; an d becaus e I must , I watch them , thes e tw o women . I d o no t ye t understand wher e on e begin s an d th e othe r ends , fo r they ar e a s alik e a s tw o swan s leashe d wit h a golde n chain. Gracefu l pal e head s ben t together , the y ar e always whisperin g secrets . Becaus e th e sk y i s s o darkly oppressive , thei r blon d hai r seem s mor e bright, mor e mocking . Fro m m y windo w I se e the m leave th e hote l ever y morning , holdin g u p a blu e um brella tha t glisten s wetl y i n th e rain . Thei r hai r i s th e brilliant colo r o f hay ; whe n I loo k dow n fro m m y window a t thei r whit e neck s an d golde n head s I smel l the hay , I sin k int o crackling , stabbin g hay . I thin k that the y fee l m y eyes : ever y mornin g the y dra w closer togethe r an d lowe r th e blu e umbrell a a s the y pass beneat h m y window , an d the n the y tur n th e corner, s o tha t ther e i s nothin g lef t t o loo k at , excep t
[63]
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the gre y puddle s o n th e sidewal k and , beyon d th e rooftops, th e wider , writhin g gre y o f th e ocean . I thin k tha t the y ar e sisters , but I am no t sure . •
Whenever I com e here , i t rains . Al l th e room s o f thi s hotel mus t smel l o f it , mus t combin e th e usua l imper sonal scen t o f room s tha t belon g t o n o on e (havin g been occupie d b y many ) wit h th e penetratin g stenc h of ocea n an d rain . Ther e i s a d a m p fee l t o th e wood , a strange grittines s o f th e sheet s tha t promise s barna cles bu t deliver s onl y unhapp y night s spen t tossin g and turning , hai r sprea d acros s th e pillow s lik e sea weed. A t nigh t her e i t i s har d t o distinguis h th e sounds o f ocea n fro m th e sound s o f rain , an d man y nights I hav e staye d awak e tryin g t o tell . I rol l fro m one sid e o f th e be d t o th e other , guessing : thi s i s ocean, thi s i s rain . I a m unabl e t o sleep . Sometime s I clos e m y eyes , and then , i n th e morning , i t i s a s i f I hav e slept , because th e daw n i s a surprise . I t rise s lik e th e broa d shoulders o f th e on e I hav e com e her e t o forget , an d startles m e ou t o f bed . • This i s a larg e hotel ; ther e ar e man y rooms , man y corridors carpete d wit h silence . I kno w th e des k [64]
Crazy Water clerk, becaus e o f th e time s tha t I hav e bee n her e be fore. Perhap s I continue t o com e bac k becaus e o f this , because I kno w ther e i s a smil e waitin g fo r m e wit h the des k clerk . Sh e nod s whe n sh e see s me , says , Wel l here's a familia r face . Ye t th e hote l i s big enoug h tha t I coul d remai n fo r days , goin g i n an d out , withou t ever seein g th e des k cler k a t all . I coul d commi t a million crime s here , an d non e woul d b e detected . I n such a hote l i t i s impossibl e t o kno w everyone , an d yet i t i s comforting tha t th e des k cler k know s me , an d can smile . Th e othe r guest s ar e phantoms , clackin g keys an d slammin g doors . They tur n thei r face s away , whe n the y pas s m e i n the hall . • I first sa w th e sister s whe n I checke d int o th e hotel . I had com e i n fro m th e parkin g lo t draggin g m y suit cases, thos e littl e leathe r anchor s o f m y past , splat tered wit h rai n an d startle d b y th e stabbin g scen t o f brine afte r s o man y hour s shu t i n th e car . The y sa t i n the lobb y together , o n a blac k an d re d couch , th e fee t of on e restin g i n th e la p o f th e other , bot h o f the m reading. The y hel d book s i n fron t o f thei r face s wit h their whit e hands , ever y fingernail polishe d pin k a s coral. They wor e gree n short s tha t expose d thei r mus cular, hairles s calve s an d thighs , a s i f the y though t [65]
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the rai n woul d pas s an d tha t the y woul d soo n b e ou t running o n th e beach . A very optimisti c attitude , I remarked t o th e des k clerk. She smile d an d hande d m e m y key . Yes, she said . And late r they'l l b e ou t a t th e beach , whethe r it' s raining o r not . The y d o th e sam e ever y day . When I walked pas t the m the y looke d a t me . Firs t one sister , the n th e other , lowere d he r boo k an d raised he r eye s a s I wen t by . I fel t th e vivi d blu e o f those eye s unti l th e elevato r carrie d m e upstairs , an d maybe eve n afte r that . • Every mornin g th e colo r o f thei r umbrell a i s reflecte d in th e puddle s o n th e sidewalk , an d thei r fee t sti r ripples lik e miniatur e oceans . I cran k th e windo w open an d lea n wit h m y nos e presse d agains t th e screen, feelin g th e shar p col d moistur e o n m y face . I thin k o f callin g ou t t o them , the y ar e s o aliv e i n the rain . • At dinne r I tal k to o much . Th e hote l dinin g roo m makes m e expos e mor e tha n I intend , becaus e I a m always relieve d t o reac h it , t o hea r th e whisper s o f silverware an d unfamilia r voices . I a m seate d a t a [66]
Crazy Water table wit h peopl e I have neve r me t before , an d I begi n to talk . I hav e bee n t o thi s hote l tw o time s before , I tel l these strangers , s o tha t no w I hav e bee n her e thre e times altogether . Ever y tim e I have com e no t becaus e of th e attractio n o f th e plac e (althoug h i t ha s som e attraction; a t an y rat e a plac e seem s t o becom e at tractive jus t becaus e i t i s familiar, i f you kno w wha t I mean). Bu t no , anyway , ever y tim e I hav e com e here , I have com e t o leav e somethin g behind . This i s wha t I tel l them . A s I tal k I remember th e other tw o times : th e interio r o f m y ca r a s I drove , w h a t spille d ou t o f the suitcase s whe n I dumped the m on th e bed , th e curtain s i n m y room , th e hairbrus h I left sittin g o n th e bedsid e tabl e wit h a twir l o f hai r still caugh t i n th e bristles . I continue : thi s tim e I a m her e t o forge t someone , you know , a man ; no t jus t an y m a n bu t a particula r one, althoug h h e wa s a s generi c a s al l th e res t a t first, perhap s eve n mor e generic , I thin k that' s wha t attracted m e t o hi m i n th e first place , bu t a t an y rat e I soo n neede d t o ge t fa r away . Th e momen t h e cease d to be generic , I fled. I sto p talkin g t o pic k u p m y win e glass . I n thi s hotel ever y glas s i s a thin g o f beauty . I hav e picke d mine u p man y time s already , an d hav e becom e pre occupied wit h th e appearanc e o f m y arm , whethe r [67]
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the movemen t o f m y a r m i s gracefu l enoug h a s I reach fo r th e win e glass . You se e I alway s see m t o hav e tha t problem , I say. Th e minut e the y asser t thei r individualit y I flee. With thi s on e i t wa s wors e tha n usual , mayb e becaus e he seeme d mor e generi c a t first , an d s o th e deceptio n was greater . I expecte d hi m t o sta y generic , or , sinc e he wa s s o ver y generi c a t th e start , t o b e les s individ ual tha n usua l a t th e end . Bu t a s i t happened , th e opposite prove d true . H e wa s mor e individua l tha n they usuall y are . I bega n t o hav e dream s abou t him , but no t th e kin d yo u lik e t o have. He woul d com e an d stand i n fron t o f me . I'd tr y t o cove r myself , becaus e I was alway s naked , althoug h h e wa s not . H e woul d stand an d loo k a t m e an d the n he' d pu t hi s han d right here . I demonstrat e fo r th e stranger s b y placin g m y own han d aroun d m y throat . Jus t lik e that , I say, an d then I' d wak e u p . Soo n I wa s havin g th e drea m ever y night, an d the n whe n I couldn' t stan d i t anymore , I came here . The stranger s ar e appalle d b y m y voic e an d b y my story , becaus e I hav e force d the m t o hea r it . I si t with a m a n an d a woman ; evidentl y the y ar e mar ried, fo r the y hav e begu n t o loo k alike , wit h greyin g hair an d face s tha t ar e no t quit e wrinkled , bu t ar e
[68]
Crazy Water loosening wit h middl e age . I a m alternatel y en tranced b y th e button s o n th e man' s dee p blu e jacke t and th e dul l pla y o f ligh t o n hi s wife' s pear l necklace . They sa y nothing , the y smil e a littl e bit , bu t thei r eyes protest . Unfortunately , i t i s to o late , becaus e I no longe r care . I mee t a lo t o f the m throug h m y work , I say . Yo u see I a m a journalist , an d becaus e o f that , I think , I have gotte n int o th e habi t o f starin g a t people , o f watching them . I used t o d o i t o n purpose , t o help m y work, an d no w I d o i t al l th e time , withou t thinking . They'd notic e m y staring , soone r o r late r they' d spea k to me , befor e I kne w it , I wa s involved . Bu t I alway s keep ope n m y optio n t o flee. Do yo u stil l dream ? th e m a n ask s me , nervously . A white napki n i s clutched i n hi s hand . It sound s awful , th e woma n adds . No, I say. When I came her e th e dream s stopped . I lea n bac k i n m y chai r an d regar d them . The y are s o serious , s o frowningl y attentive , tha t I hav e t o laugh. I laug h an d loo k aroun d th e dinin g room . Sev eral table s awa y I se e th e sisters , lookin g a t eac h other an d the n a t me , smiling . I'm ver y sorry , I say , risin g fro m th e table , t o have talke d to o much . And I hurr y bac k t o m y roo m which , becaus e I
[69]
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have lef t m y windo w open , reek s o f th e ligh t less depths o f th e ocean . •
Unfortunately, i t seem s I carr y th e pas t wit h m e when I travel . Thi s i s m y misfortune . Whe n I tur n t o unpack m y suitcas e I find, instea d o f th e clothe s I thought I packed , littl e bit s o f m y past . I reac h int o the suitcase , thinkin g i t i s mine , an d find thing s tha t I tos s ont o th e rumple d bed : a compact , a broke n sea shell, th e blac k an d whit e knight s fro m a ches s set , a jeweled watch , a plasti c com b wit h strand s o f hai r tangled aroun d th e teeth , photograph s o f th e on e I have com e her e t o forge t (alread y h e look s unfamil iar), unrecognizabl e shade s o f lipstick , ticke t stub s from play s I hav e neve r seen . Thes e object s loo m ou t of th e shadow s impose d o n th e roo m b y th e curtains , which I hav e draw n i n hono r o f th e unpacking . Bu t none o f the m ar e mine ; the y ar e memento s o f a pas t I can n o longe r remember , o r on e I have no t ye t experi enced. I stan d an d star e a t th e thing s o n m y bed , an d then ther e i s a sof t ra p a t th e door . I a m gratefu l fo r the interruption , eve n thoug h I know i t i s impossibl e anyone coul d b e visitin g me , sinc e I kno w n o one . Therefore th e knoc k i s a mystery . I swin g ope n th e door an d ther e i s th e hote l maid , i n he r uniform , [70]
Crazy Water pushing a car t stacke d wit h clea n linens . Sh e ha s come t o mak e th e bed . W e ar e surprise d t o se e eac h other; sh e give s m e a thi n smile . I hav e neve r like d t o b e i n room s wit h maids . They mak e m e nervous , fo r the y se e to o much , an d too intimately , perhap s agains t thei r will . Whe n I speak t o them , I speak awkwardly . There ha s bee n som e kin d o f confusion here , I say , although wha t coul d hav e prompte d i t i n a hote l lik e this, wher e ever y objec t i s a thin g o f beauty , escape s me. A suitcase ha s bee n place d i n m y roo m whic h i s not mine , an d contain s thing s tha t d o no t belon g t o me. I cam e her e t o rest ; I don' t wan t t o dea l wit h thi s inconvenience. The mai d stare s a t me , wishin g I' d remov e th e dappled object s fro m th e be d s o sh e ca n work . No , she says . That' s impossible , I' m sure . It' s you r suit case, Miss , and n o on e else's . She shove s th e object s ont o th e floor, an d set s t o work, tuggin g a t th e sheets , a s i f I do no t exist . • It i s rar e tha t I se e on e o f th e sister s withou t th e other. Ye t her e i s on e o f th e two , alone . Sh e lean s against th e glas s doo r i n th e lobby , lookin g ou t a t th e d a m p street , the n lookin g a t he r watch , whil e I , i n the hote l gif t shop , a m onl y a fe w yard s away . Man y [71]
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mornings I hav e wante d t o cal l ou t t o thi s woman , o r perhaps t o th e other , s o I kno w I mus t spea k t o he r now, whil e I hav e th e chance . I leav e th e gif t sho p and lean , too , against th e glas s door . Every tim e I com e here , it' s rained , I say . Som e people choos e thei r vacation s i n just tha t way . The woma n turn s towar d me , an d I a m startle d by he r face : hig h cheekbones , a s ligh t an d hollo w a s a bird's; whit e skin . Yes, she says , some peopl e do . Evidently yo u choos e you r vacatio n tha t wa y too , I say . I'v e see n yo u an d you r siste r aroun d th e hotel . The beaut y o f i t i s tha t th e rai n doesn' t bothe r you , you g o ou t anyway . A s fo r me , I' m involve d i n a dialogue o f forgetfulness: pas t love s an d al l that . I thin k sh e i s sympathetic , althoug h somethin g I've sai d ha s startle d her ; sh e blushes. Sh e ma y smile , may eve n b e friendly . The n suddenl y th e secon d woman appear s i n th e hote l lobby . Al l a t onc e m y companion draw s bac k fro m me , an d he r siste r step s between us . Sh e wear s a n ivor y cros s o n a gol d chai n around he r neck . Come on , Resa , sh e says ; sh e pushe s th e doo r open an d th e tw o sister s g o out. The y dra w ver y clos e together and , althoug h neithe r on e look s back , I fee l that the y ma y b e talkin g abou t me .
[72]
Crazy Water • The mai d i s makin g th e bed , snappin g th e scen t o f clean sheet s int o th e must y room . I stan d b y th e win dow, becaus e I do no t lik e t o fee l i n th e way , an d the n again becaus e I a m watchin g th e sister s com e ou t o f the hotel , a r m s aroun d eac h other' s waists , thei r fee t splashing i n th e puddles . These tw o sisters , I say , pointin g ou t th e window . I wonde r i f yo u kno w wh o the y are . I thin k the y ma y be ol d acquaintance s o f mine . The mai d stop s he r work , put s dow n a pillowcase , comes ove r t o th e window . Th e sister s ar e drawin g away. Th e mai d peer s ou t o f th e window , lookin g where I point . Sisters! she exclaims . Whores . • I si t a t th e desk , holdin g photo s u p t o th e light . Hi s face i s not familiar . I look fro m on e phot o t o another . Already, I have forgotten . • Since I find mysel f her e again , I try t o tak e a n interes t in thing s o f th e town : th e dowd y mai n stree t wit h it s white-painted gif t shops , al l reekin g o f scente d can -
[73]
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dies an d wicker , th e opaque-windowe d bars , th e glass-fronted laundromat s wher e wome n fol d thei r clean clothes . Th e inhabitant s o f th e tow n hav e a certain look . I t i s a s i f thei r face s hav e bee n ben t b y the rai n an d th e wind , jus t lik e th e crabbe d blac k trees acros s fro m th e bay . I seldo m se e th e peopl e speak. Whe n th e tw o sister s wal k han d i n han d through th e shops , pluckin g u p plasti c lobsters , o r b u m p e r stickers , o r polishe d shells , th e sho p proprie tors star e a t the m wit h hostility ; the y ar e a s ou t o f place her e a s gaud y tropica l birds , wit h thei r blue shadowed eyelid s an d scarle t earrings . I mov e through th e gif t shop s slowly , withou t expressin g in terest, an d th e sale s clerk s com e t o trus t me . The y rush t o sho w m e thei r case s o f jewelry , tin y bird s and frog s mad e ou t o f seashells , seahorse s drie d an d preserved, whil e th e sister s remai n utterl y ignored . I can fee l tha t th e tow n turn s t o me , seekin g som e sort o f justificatio n fo r drabness . I a m wel l liked ; sometimes peopl e star e a t m e o n th e street . The des k cler k confide s i n me . I d o no t kno w he r name, ye t w e smil e a t eac h other , an d seein g tha t sh e is bored , I lea n agains t th e fron t desk . Sh e tell s m e that th e townspeopl e ar e worrie d b y th e rain . Th e ocean become s strang e whe n i t rain s s o long , sh e tells me . Alread y th e tourist s hav e bee n complainin g about th e beach , od d thing s washin g u p o n th e sand , [74]
Crazy Water an unusua l textur e t o th e water , a peculia r aggres siveness i n th e tanglin g o f seawee d aroun d thei r feet . The rai n make s th e tourist s bored , sh e says , an d sin ister. On th e contrary , I say . Thi s plac e wouldn' t b e th e same withou t th e rain , t o m e a t least . The des k cler k look s a t m e strangely , an d seem s pleased b y m y concern . One day , whe n I hav e bee n ou t explorin g th e streets, keepin g th e shimmerin g blu e umbrell a jus t ahead o f m e unti l i t suddenl y vanishe s aroun d a cor ner, I mee t th e des k cler k comin g ou t o f th e lobby , tugging a windbreake r ove r he r head . Sh e urge s m e to follo w her . No one' s i n th e hote l anyway , sh e says , i f you'l l come wit h m e you'l l see . Yo u didn' t believ e m e be fore, bu t no w yo u will . I believ e yo u implicitly , I say . But sh e doe s no t hea r me , fo r sh e hurrie s o n ahead, bod y ben t agains t th e spittin g rain ; I ru n t o catch u p . W e follo w th e roa d ou t t o th e beach , an d a s we wal k I suddenl y realiz e tha t w e ar e no t alone ; groups o f peopl e i n two s o r three s ar e alread y follow ing th e road . Ther e i s a larg e crow d alread y o n th e beach. Th e des k cler k grab s m y sleev e an d pull s m e through th e crowd , unti l w e stan d a t th e inne r edg e of a wid e half-moo n o f people , al l pushing , leaning , [75]
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struggling t o see . At th e cente r o f th e half-moo n ther e lies, partiall y i n th e water , a whal e tha t ha s bee n stranded b y th e tide . The creatur e i s calm , wit h placi d sightles s eyes , grey ski n glistenin g i n th e rain . I thin k i t i s s o we t that i t canno t b e suffering . A n occasiona l tremo r passes throug h it s flesh . Barnacle s crus t o n it s fins and tail . Two me n ar e tryin g t o pus h th e whal e bac k int o the water , bu t i t wil l no t b e moved ; i t seem s almos t to clin g t o th e beach . Ever y tim e th e hug e bod y i s finally rolle d int o th e shallow s th e crow d cheer s an d expects th e whal e t o begi n swimming , bu t instea d i t is onl y pushe d bac k ont o th e san d b y th e motio n o f the waves . The des k cler k lean s clos e t o m y ear . Yo u see , sh e says. Th e ocea n spit s the m ou t lik e afterbirth , an d they won' t g o back . My disgus t a t th e sigh t o f whal e distract s me ; I look aroun d a t th e crowd , an d suddenl y I se e th e tw o sisters standin g togethe r a t th e fa r en d o f th e half moon. The y ar e talkin g together , angrily . The n a gir l darts pas t t h e m ou t o f th e crow d an d kneel s besid e the whale . Sh e run s he r h a n d alon g th e dyin g anima l so tha t th e fles h quivers , follow s th e curv e o f it s bod y to th e tail , whic h sh e lift s of f th e san d t o he r lap . He r long blac k hai r fall s int o he r fac e a s sh e lean s for [76]
Crazy Water ward. Sh e examine s th e enormou s tai l closely , the n makes a quic k movemen t wit h he r han d an d j u m p s to her feet , lettin g th e tai l fal l wit h a splat . Th e crow d m u r m u r s , pushe s forwar d t o se e wha t sh e ha s done , what sh e hold s i n he r hand . The y pres s s o clos e tha t she canno t find a passag e through , thoug h sh e look s back an d forth . Mathilda! th e des k cler k calls . He r voice , comin g from s o near , startle s me . Th e gir l come s towar d us , smiling, and , stoppin g i n fron t o f me , sh e open s he r hand. O n he r p a l m lie s a razo r blade , an d a triangl e of black flesh . The des k cler k embrace s th e girl . G o home , Ma thilda, sh e say s gently , the n move s asid e s o tha t sh e can pass . Th e crow d ha s los t interes t i n th e beache d and groanin g whale , an d no w turn s t o surg e afte r th e girl, who , movin g ver y quickly , ha s alread y disap peared amon g th e dunes . I struggle t o hol d m y place , but I a m spu n aroun d agai n an d agai n b y th e pres sure o f s o man y hurryin g bodies . Don't worry , th e des k cler k says . They'l l cal l someone fro m th e a q u a r i u m t o com e abou t th e whale. But I a m standin g o n m y toes , pushin g asid e un familiar head s an d shoulders , tryin g t o se e wher e th e sisters hav e gone . Agai n th e blu e umbrell a i s los t t o my sight . [77]
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• I pres s m y bod y int o th e san d s o closely , s o com pletely, tha t ther e ar e eve n a fe w grain s i n m y mouth . The su n i s o n m y back ; i t i s th e first sunn y da y o f m y vacation. Fro m wher e I am lyin g I can hea r th e ocea n and th e soun d o f voices , down jus t belo w th e dunes . I have see n wha t I shoul d no t see . B y restin g m y chi n in a hollo w a t th e ver y to p o f th e dune , I ca n loo k down a t th e tw o wome n o n th e beach , thei r whit e bodies entwine d s o inseparabl y tha t i t i s impossibl e to tel l on e fro m th e other . Thei r sof t croonin g sound s come u p t o m e lik e th e crie s o f th e se a birds . I shoul d not watch , bu t I do , t o se e th e on e whos e nam e I d o not kno w pres s he r lip s t o Resa' s pal e stomach . Whe n they separate , Res a roll s awa y angril y an d sit s up , shaking th e san d ou t o f he r hair . Sh e speak s wit h such vehemenc e tha t I can hea r her . I don' t understand , sh e i s shouting . Yo u kno w h e blames me . You pu t m e i n danger , Barbara ! I canno t hea r Barbara' s reply . You sacrific e me , Res a cries . If he come s her e yo u know yo u hav e sacrifice d me ! Barbara trie s t o touc h Resa' s face , bu t Res a draws awa y again , sit s wit h he r bac k t o Barbara, leg s drawn u p an d encircle d b y he r thi n arms . Barbar a strokes he r hair , rub s he r back , bu t Res a wil l no t [78]
Crazy Water turn; he r blu e eye s ar e fastene d t o th e blu e o f th e ocean. I think , perhaps , sh e wil l b e friendly . • Although I have forgotte n him , I d o no t sleep . When I close m y eye s I se e hand s twistin g a whit e sheet , coiling i t lik e a braid . I d o no t kno w whethe r the y ar e my hands , o r his , an d becaus e I d o no t know , I mus t keep m y eye s open , al l night . • The carcas s o f th e whal e remain s o n th e beach , rot ting i n th e rain . Effort s wer e mad e t o sav e th e puffin g creature; agai n an d agai n i t was rolle d int o th e water . Once, towar d evening , i t ha d seeme d a s i f i t woul d finally swim , bu t i n th e mornin g i t wa s bac k o n th e beach again , dea d thi s time . Th e stenc h reache s eve n the hotel , pervade s al l th e coming s an d going s i n th e lobby an d i n th e hallway s wit h a strange , languorou s sense o f invasion . Once the y com e ou t the y neve r g o back , th e des k clerk says , shakin g he r head . No w it'l l sta y unti l i t makes u s al l sick . It i s a thin g no t ofte n experienced , I say . Fo r m e it increase s th e char m o f th e place . [79]
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The des k cler k laughs . But ho w lon g befor e every one leave s th e hotel ? sh e says . It seem s t o m e tha t sh e i s right ; peopl e wil l leav e the hotel . Th e sickl y swee t odo r o f decayin g blubbe r now mixe s wit h th e scen t o f ocea n an d enter s m y room whe n I ope n th e window , an d i t mus t b e jus t the sam e fo r ever y othe r guest . No t al l o f the m wil l be a s toleran t a s I am , an d eve n fewe r wil l inhal e with pervers e pleasure . Sittin g i n m y room , I thin k about th e whale , imagin e th e eye s dul l an d flat, th e white barnacles , th e tai l wit h th e missin g triangl e o f flesh; I wonde r wha t dre w i t t o th e sand . Ye t I wil l not g o ou t t o th e beac h an d loo k a t it . I sta y i n m y room an d pictur e i n m y min d th e blac k triangl e i n the girl' s whit e palm . Even th e tid e wil l no t tak e th e whal e away ; th e ocean won' t forgiv e it s prodigals . Finall y on e morn ing th e su n come s out , an d th e stenc h become s un bearable. A t las t I g o wit h th e des k cler k t o se e th e fishermen to w th e dea d whal e ou t t o sea . This tim e ther e i s no crowd. Th e whale i s hideous , bloated, covere d wit h san d an d flies , surrounde d b y a darting floc k o f gulls . Tw o o f th e fishermen hav e chained i t b y th e tai l t o th e bac k o f th e motorboat , and the y pus h i t int o th e wate r unti l i t begins t o float. Then the y signa l t o th e captai n o f the boat , wh o start s the engin e an d begin s t o pul l th e corps e ou t t o sea . [80]
Crazy Water We watc h unti l th e boa t an d th e whal e becom e ver y dim o n th e horizon . On e o f th e fishermen approache s us, for h e ha s recognize d th e des k clerk . We tol d hi m t o tak e i t wa y out , h e says . Don' t have t o worr y abou t i t scarin g th e tourist s anymore . The des k cler k look s a t hi m an d smile s scornfully . We'll see , sh e says . Personally , I don' t believ e it'l l ever g o bac k s o easily . Doesn' t Mathild a hav e i t b y the tail ? The fisherman laughs , spit s o n th e ground . It'll neve r b e back , h e says . • I admi t tha t I hav e followe d them , withou t knowin g why. Somethin g abou t th e blu e eyes , the blon d heads , perfectly matched , a s i f b y th e imaginatio n o f a n art ist. An d the n ther e i s somethin g more . I hav e see n them walkin g dow n th e hal l wit h thei r pal e fingers tangled together . I hav e see n the m sto p befor e thei r door an d searc h thei r pocket s fo r th e roo m key ; I hav e seen Barbar a befor e th e doo r kissin g Resa , bendin g Resa's hea d back , diggin g he r fingers int o Resa' s hair . I kno w wh y th e maid s loo k away . Ye t stil l I continu e to follow , knowin g tha t I have see n wha t I should no t have seen . I thin k tha t Res a coul d b e friendly . I thin k tha t she coul d loo k a t m e wit h he r blu e eyes , whic h con [81]
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tain al l th e textur e an d fire o f th e sky , an d liste n t o my stories . I thin k tha t sh e woul d lea n towar d me , bringing her blue eyes very close to mine, and explai n to m e al l th e thing s tha t I d o no t understan d i n m y own stories . •
I lean agains t th e window. I insist, I say, that i t is not my suitcase , an d I deman d t o kno w wha t i t i s doin g in my room . The mai d snap s th e shee t an d fold s i t sharpl y around th e edges of the bed. She is tired o f this question, will not answe r i t again. Instead sh e says, There was a ma n a t th e front des k thi s morning , askin g fo r that friend o f yours. He left somethin g for her . There i s a funn y cur l t o he r li p whe n sh e say s friend. Resa? I ask. No, say s th e maid , preparin g t o pus h he r car t away. The other one . She halt s fo r a moment , starin g a t th e photo graphs lai d out on my desk in a row. •
Is i t no t trul y amazing , th e length s t o whic h one' s fate ma y tak e one , o r rather , th e grea t length s t o which on e ma y tak e one' s fate ? Thre e time s I hav e [82]
Crazy Water been draw n t o thi s hotel , thi s tim e being , o f course , the third . Ye t th e first tim e I saw it , squattin g her e b y the sea , I ha d n o ide a tha t I woul d com e bac k eve n a second time . I ha d bee n drivin g fo r miles , yo u se e I had t o ge t away , bu t I couldn' t driv e a minut e more , and her e wa s th e hotel . S o I stopped , an d cam e in , nothing impresse d m e muc h i n thos e days , I wen t straight t o slee p withou t eve n suspectin g ho w im portant thi s hote l woul d b e t o me . Stil l I think I don' t realize it s ful l importance . The secon d tim e tha t I cam e here , I wa s vaca tioning wit h a friend , oh , a w o m a n I a m friend s wit h no longer , yo u se e I do not find i t eas y t o have friends ; that i s m y misfortune . I lik e the m fo r a while , som e of the m mor e tha n others , som e ver y muc h indeed , but afte r a whil e th e novelt y o f havin g a ne w frien d wears off , an d i t al l become s s o routine : thes e phon e calls, littl e da y trips , lunche s an d dinner s spen t dis cussing th e sam e trivia l problem s agai n an d again . I guess i t i s tru e tha t I tir e o f peopl e rathe r quickly . Perhaps i t i s al l m y fault , bu t I don' t thin k so . Rathe r I thin k i t ha s bee n m y fat e t o mee t onl y tiresom e people. Eventuall y the y ca n tel l I a m disillusioned , and the y drif t bac k int o thei r ow n lives . Nevertheless , I like d th e frien d wit h who m I too k thi s vacation , a t least a t th e tim e w e se t out . W e ha d som e thing s i n common, eac h o f u s fleeing ou r respectiv e lives . Onc e [83]
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the vacatio n wa s over , I didn' t enjo y he r anymore . She spen t th e whol e tim e complainin g abou t th e rain , which I , fo r som e reason , liked . I couldn' t stan d t o hear he r complain ! I woul d hav e don e anythin g t o shut he r up , an d wa s comforte d onl y b y th e knowl edge tha t sh e wa s temporary . I neve r sa w he r agai n after w e cam e t o thi s hotel , an d neve r wante d to . And no w her e I a m again . You' d think , havin g had suc h a ba d experienc e her e th e las t time , tha t I would neve r com e back ; bu t o n th e contrary , I' d never thin k o f goin g anywher e else . I hav e bee n her e three times , an d I hav e neve r enjoye d myself . Ye t I feel compelle d t o return . I hav e com e her e thi s tim e to forge t abou t a m a n . Unti l I came, I dreame d abou t him constantly . I n m y drea m h e alway s la y nex t t o me, asleep , whil e I sa t u p i n th e dar k an d coul d no t sleep a t all . Alway s a s I looke d a t hi m I wa s furiou s that h e coul d slee p an d I coul d not . I was touche d b y the wa y hi s eye s looke d whe n the y wer e shu t i n sleep , his eyelashe s seeme d s o lon g an d sof t tha t I hate d him. H e wa s alway s lyin g o n hi s bac k an d I hate d him s o muc h fo r sleepin g whil e I wa s awak e tha t I would reac h ou t an d p u t m y hand s aroun d hi s nec k like this — And I demonstrat e o n m y ow n nec k fo r Barbar a and Resa , wh o d o no t wan t t o listen , wh o kee p thei r
[84]
Crazy Water blue eye s on thei r dinne r dishes , but wh o liste n never theless. But then , befor e I coul d kil l him , I woul d wak e up. I had thi s drea m s o often tha t I was afrai d I woul d wake u p an d find tha t I reall y ha d kille d him . Finall y I had t o leave , and s o I came here . Now I don't drea m about hi m anymore . The tw o women , bot h dresse d i n white , fidget lik e birds i n a cage , wishin g the y coul d flee , draggin g their eye s awa y fro m mine . They wil l no t answer , wil l not speak , ye t I fee l tha t Res a i s sympathetic . I sa w them th e m o m e n t I entere d th e dinin g room ; thei r white dresse s glowe d lik e pearl s i n th e di m light . Now, sittin g wit h them , I fee l ugly , awkward , almos t masculine. Thei r beaut y i s terrifying . I know thi s m a n i s now lookin g fo r me , I continue , and ye t h e ha s n o ide a wher e I am . H e ha s n o ide a why I left . I neve r tol d hi m abou t m y dreams , wh y should I ? What busines s i s it o f his, as lon g a s I didn' t kill him ? Eventuall y he'l l forge t abou t me ; it' s eas y to find someon e new . Suddenly Barbar a stand s up , tossin g he r napki n on th e table , an d walk s angril y away . I a m lef t alon e with Resa , wh o finally mus t mee t m y eyes . I'm sorry , Res a says . It's jus t tha t sh e i s s o afrai d of being replaced .
[85]
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Can I replace her ? I ask . No, Res a says . She wil l neve r b e replaced . • For th e first time , whe n the y pas s beneat h m y win dow, thei r hai r glint s i n th e sun . The y wea r short s and blouses , hav e sweater s tie d aroun d thei r waists . They hav e thei r a r m s aroun d eac h other . I a m star tled b y th e knotte d muscle s i n Resa' s arms , whic h I had alway s though t a s fragil e an d breakabl e a s smooth china . • Angry word s pas s betwee n them , th e nam e o f a man . I a m sheltere d i n th e dunes . I ca n loo k dow n a t thei r white bodies , s o tens e wit h hate . I se e th e horizon , the harmoniou s meetin g o f sea an d sky , all blu e splat tered wit h cloud s an d gull s an d breakers , finally in vaded b y th e tw o women . The y ru n fro m th e beac h and div e int o th e water , disappearin g momentaril y under th e sof t waves , the n emergin g agai n i n deepe r water, onl y a fe w yard s apart . The y shou t an d laug h to eac h other , an d s o I know tha t the y ar e reconciled . I a m disappointe d b y thei r reconciliation , an d s o I sulk i n th e dunes , rollin g ove r i n th e san d ont o m y back, turnin g m y gaz e straigh t up , a s thoug h the y [86]
Crazy Water might fee l m y snub . I a m sleepy , swolle n b y th e sun ; I coul d slee p here , i n th e dunes , an d neve r retur n t o the hotel . Finall y thei r voice s dra w m e back . No w they ar e eve n farthe r fro m th e shore ; ther e i s a wid e space betwee n them , bu t the y wav e t o eac h other . Resa begin s t o swi m towar d Barbara , he r bod y cut ting th e wate r wit h th e grac e an d spee d o f a shark . Soon th e tw o head s bo b clos e together , an d I wonde r if the y ar e embracin g unde r th e water . I begi n t o doze , an d the n whe n I ope n m y eye s again, I a m no t sur e wha t I hav e seen . Th e tw o women ar e playin g game s i n th e water , swimmin g around eac h other , pouncin g o n eac h other' s shoul ders wit h shout s o f joy . Res a swim s behin d Barbar a and put s he r hand s o n Barbara' s head , the n pushe s her unde r th e water . Ther e i s n o cry , littl e struggle , so it seem s the y ar e stil l playing . Onc e Barbara seem s to escape , an d he r fac e appears , he r mout h open , gasping fo r air . The n Res a ha s grabbe d he r again , pushes he r down . Finall y Resa , too , dive s unde r th e water. Sh e emerge s alone , an d swim s wit h cal m strokes t o th e beach . There , sh e begin s t o dr y hersel f with a pal e blu e towel . • In th e morning , I wal k dow n o n th e beach , t o se e what I can find i n th e sand . [87]
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• My darling : You d o everythin g s o well , s o completely , bu t perhaps , i n this instance , no t completel y enough : a s yo u ca n se e I hav e your address , obtaine d s o easil y fro m tha t w o m a n i n you r office—you know , th e on e wit h th e paperweigh t containin g the tw o seahorses , th e on e wh o alway s wear s th e gre y skirt . You ar e s o fon d o f confidin g i n her , bu t then , onc e sh e tol d me (sh e di d no t wis h t o tel l me) , i t seeme d tha t I shoul d have known . Wher e els e would yo u go ? Of cours e non e o f thi s i s importan t now ; al l tha t trul y matters i s you , m y darling , an d thi s absence , whic h ha s gone o n fo r muc h to o long . I a m acutel y stun g b y you r empty chair , b y th e scrap s o f paper yo u lef t behind , b y you r ring (i t wait s fo r yo u safely , her e o n th e windowsill , abov e the sink) . I wis h tha t yo u woul d com e back ; I wonde r wha t it i s tha t yo u sa w o r though t yo u sa w tha t sen t yo u awa y s o quickly. I hop e tha t yo u ar e reconsidering , ther e i n you r room, wher e yo u hav e evidentl y foun d compan y tha t yo u prefer t o mine . You shoul d as k yourself , darling , ho w man y times yo u hav e seen , onl y t o realiz e tha t yo u imagine d all along . My love , do not forge t tha t I know wher e yo u are . You kno w well enough , I will no t wai t forever .
[88]
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t wa s onl y noon , an d alread y Stephe n an d Laura h a d bee n los t si x times . The y laughed abou t it , decide d the y wer e goo d a t it , the n realized, bookishly , tha t i t wa s a sor t o f metapho r fo r their lives . Outside thei r windows , Connecticu t rolle d by i n fecun d puff s o f gree n tha t blocke d ou t inciden tals, lik e roa d an d sky ; thei r brigh t smal l landscap e included onl y th e fertil e leaves , a scatterin g o f maps , the steerin g wheel , an d thei r tanne d affectionat e knees, joustin g playfull y fo r spac e beneat h th e dash board. Laura ha d sprea d th e bes t m a p acros s he r thighs ; she hel d i t delicately , a s i f it wer e a n illuminate d tex t summoned wit h grea t reluctanc e fro m th e depth s o f a mysteriou s archive . Sh e ha d a theor y abou t gettin g lost. "The y rol l u p th e roads, " sh e said . "Ever y night , after w e g o t o sleep , the y rol l u p th e roads , an d the n in th e morning , befor e w e wak e up , the y rol l ou t [91]
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new ones. " Sh e glare d suspiciousl y ou t th e windows , pretending t o loo k fo r furtiv e Ne w Englander s wit h rolls o f asphal t o n thei r backs , sneakin g of f int o th e farmlands. It wa s sill y bu t ther e wa s somethin g tru e i n it , and the y bot h laughed , becaus e i n th e sunshin e i t wa s easy t o laug h abou t bein g lost . The y ha d bee n los t dozens o f time s sinc e the y move d east . Simpl e things , like finding th e grocer y store , confounde d them . They'd bee n los t i n othe r way s too , way s the y pre ferred no t t o acknowledge . An d finally the y wer e i n a place wher e i t m a d e sens e t o b e lost . "I hop e sh e won' t b e upse t wit h us, " Laur a said . She folde d u p th e m a p an d rubbe d he r sweat y palm s against he r jeans ; sh e wa s nervous . Meetin g peopl e always m a d e he r nervous , an d whe n Stephe n coul d tell sh e wa s nervous , he trie d t o mak e he r fee l better . "I'm sur e she'l l understand, " h e said . H e wa s ner vous, too , b u t h e like d t o preten d tha t nothin g con cerned hi m unles s i t wa s writte n dow n an d presse d between boo k covers , an d sometime s h e pulle d i t off . And i t seeme d tha t h e succeeded . Laur a pulle d her fingers throug h he r shor t tawn y hair , yawned , and mad e a ha t ou t o f th e m a p . "Do you thin k there'l l b e man y peopl e there? " sh e asked, childishly—jus t lik e a chil d wonderin g abou t Christmas presents . [92]
Tenure Track "Oh, yes/ ' Stephe n said . "I t wa s alway s a grea t affair, th e Misse s Morkan' s annua l dance. " Laura scowle d a t him . Sh e hate d i t whe n h e go t professorial wit h her . "Stop that . Who'l l b e there? " "Oh honestly/ ' Stephe n said . "D o yo u thin k I' m her socia l secretar y o r something ? They'l l b e there . All of them . Everybody. " Laura turne d he r fac e t o the windo w an d watche d the shee p g o by . "That' s to o b a d / ' sh e said . "Whoeve r they are , I hat e them . I hat e the m all. " Sh e imagine d the shee p al l i n neckties , o r dresse s wit h bi g flounc y scarves, discussin g Jame s Joyc e ove r tray s o f hor s d'oeuvres. Ther e wa s alway s som e poo r undergradu ate i n a Frenc h mai d costum e carryin g th e tray . Laura hate d th e Frenc h mai d wors t o f all . She turne d abruptl y bac k t o fac e him . "Wha t d o sheep ea t wit h cocktails , anyway? " sh e asked . Stephen sighed . "A t leas t tr y t o b e good, " h e said . He realize d tha t h e sounde d pedantic . I t wa s lik e telling student s abou t punctuation ; h e wa s ba d a t it . He didn' t punctuate , himself . "She' s a Ver y Im portant Woman , Laura . Sh e coul d b e a Ver y Valu able Friend. " Laura sa t bac k quietl y i n he r seat , lik e a chil d chastised. Sh e place d th e m a p ha t ove r he r face , an d intoned deepl y int o th e con e (Worcester , Massachu [93]
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setts, la y jus t righ t o f th e pinnacle) : "You'r e ful l o f shit, Dr . Lewis. " She lowere d th e m a p . " I think tha t wa s you r liter ary conscienc e speaking , honey. " Stephen didn' t reply . H e concentrate d ver y har d on ver y importan t things : th e steerin g wheel , th e speedometer, an d th e road , dapple d dar k wit h shadow trees . In fac t h e wa s annoye d becaus e h e didn' t kno w who woul d b e there . I t wa s th e first tim e sinc e com ing eas t tha t h e an d Laur a ha d bee n invite d t o some thing purel y social . They' d drifte d throug h campu s cocktail parties , bu t thos e wer e formalities , th e stuf f of business . Fo r a mont h h e ha d fel t i t sharply : hi s colleagues hi d fro m hi m behin d thei r elegan t stem ware, raisin g toast s an d passin g martinis , offerin g food withou t friendship . H e ha d begu n t o wonde r i f he ha d mad e a mistake , comin g s o far , draggin g Laura wit h hi m t o thi s cragg y coast ; bu t i t wa s a ver y good jo b h e ha d taken , an d h e wante d ver y badl y fo r it t o work . The n a t last : friendshi p proffered , an d th e invitation accepted . "For God' s sake , Laura, " h e said , "it' s no t lik e she's jus t anybody. It' s th e President' s Wife , fo r God' s sake." A ro w o f willo w tree s bowe d dow n outsid e th e car windows . [94]
Tenure Track "I kno w it, " Laur a said , sulking ; sh e wante d t o sulk. Sh e sulke d becaus e sh e wa s jealou s o f th e Presi dent's Wife , o f al l wome n lik e th e President' s Wife : women wh o marrie d importan t me n an d the n wor e the importanc e everywhere , trade d o n it . Laura imag ined thei r live s i n th e sam e wa y tha t sh e sometime s imagined th e interior s o f house s a s sh e passe d o n th e sidewalk, peekin g i n windows : behin d thos e demur e draperies lurke d world s o f privilege , o f luxury , a lif e without problems , withou t slammin g door s an d cur dled milk—stocking s withou t runs , th e perfec t eg g yolk ever y morning . "It' s jus t tha t I wan t t o be her , and i f I can't be her, the n I want t o kill her. " "That's ver y antisocia l o f you , honey, " Stephe n said. The roa d dippe d dow n int o a dee p glad e o f trees . Gnarled stem s an d rubber y gree n protuberance s snuggled intimatel y towar d th e pavement . Drivin g like this , lost , i t wa s eas y t o imagin e tha t th e passag e would clos e u p behin d the m an d disappear—onc e through it , they' d neve r g o back . Ne w Englan d re vealed a s a kin d o f fair y lan d wher e passin g academ ics wer e folde d awa y int o cicada-throbbin g jungles ; or perhap s wher e thos e ambitiou s enoug h t o under take th e searc h migh t find a cav e o f treasures , a fair y godmother drippin g wit h grant s an d sabbatica l leaves.. . [95]
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"The thin g is , yo u neve r kno w ho w someon e lik e this ca n hel p you, " Stephe n said . A s h e sai d i t h e knew tha t h e sounde d opportunistic , lik e a n ol d cam pus careeris t clawin g fo r "th e righ t connection. " H e sounded lik e th e peopl e h e an d Laur a ha d mocke d back i n Chicago . S o man y night s they' d returne d t o their apartment , ben t doubl e wit h win e an d joyou s mockery. An d no w her e h e was , plunge d dee p i n thi s obscure woodland , chasin g afte r a colleg e president' s wife lik e a houn d afte r a scente d rag . He couldn' t hel p it ; h e kne w h e wa s lost ; s o h e kept on . "Of cours e yo u stil l hav e t o d o you r homework , like everybod y else, " he said . "Bu t wh o yo u kno w can help. Jus t loo k a t Bockli n bac k i n Chicago . Jus t loo k at Gerar d u p a t Buffalo . Talented , sure , bu t wh o isn't? Connection s ar e everything , Laura . I t neve r hurts t o hav e friend s . . . " "In importan t places, " Laur a said , finishing hi s sentence. Sh e ha d slumpe d dow n underneat h he r m a p headdress ; maybe , Stephe n thought , sh e wa s studying ne w route s unde r there , figuring ou t w h a t turns the y ough t t o take . Mayb e she' d emerg e fro m under tha t brightl y colore d con e o f pape r an d poin t the wa y fo r him . A tin y grocer y wit h a scree n doo r an d a han d
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Tenure Track painted sig n (Video s & Bait ) flashed u p besid e them . "I thin k w e ough t t o s t o p / ' sh e said , "an d as k directions, Dr . Livingstone. " Stephen suppose d sh e wa s right . The scree n doo r wa s tor n an d th e plac e wa s dark , dank, smellin g o f mothball s an d mold . I n th e gloo m Laura an d Stephe n coul d mak e ou t shelve s c r a m m e d with Gol d Meda l flour, h a m b u r g e r extender , an d re d plastic fir e trucks , al l o f i t covere d wit h a frost y pa tina o f dust . Likewis e th e youn g m a n wh o lounge d unpromisingly behin d th e dirt y counter . Stephen rattle d th e m a p an d Laura' s ha t turne d horizontal. "Excus e m e / ' he said , speakin g slowl y an d clearly, bu t withou t muc h hope , a s h e migh t addres s a clas s o f freshmen , "ca n yo u tel l u s ho w t o ge t t o Route 115? " The youn g m a n reache d fo r th e m a p an d bega n t o speak eloquentl y upo n th e topi c o f routes : dirt , gravel, an d paved . Laur a drifte d awa y betwee n th e shelves. At the bac k o f the grocer y sh e suddenl y foun d herself nos e t o lip with a bi g writhing bucke t o f earth worms. Above i t wa s a sign : Liv e Bait . Laura gaze d tenderl y a t th e roilin g brow n sea . I t reminded he r o f childhood , o f rain y day s whe n th e worms ros e t o th e surfac e o f he r mother' s sodde n flower garden . Lif e ha d seeme d s o promising .
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In a minut e Stephe n cam e u p behin d he r wit h th e jaunty ai r o f a traveler . H e sa w he r staring . "Nee d some liv e bait? " he asked . "No, darling, " sh e said . "I' m sur e I'l l b e baite d aplenty whe n w e ge t t o thi s socia l extravaganza . I f we ge t t o it. " She turne d archl y towar d th e car . Stephe n traile d silently behin d her , ou t o f th e grocery , acros s th e dir t lot. Silently , h e starte d th e car . The silenc e mad e Laur a thin k tha t perhap s sh e had gon e to o far . Withou t th e m a p t o hid e behind , she ha d t o depen d o n words . As they pulle d away , sh e gestured towar d th e store . "Spek a d a ingles? " sh e asked, pullin g a dope y face . "In fact, " Stephe n said , "th e youn g m a n wa s sur prisingly wel l informed. " "Ah." "The problem , i t seems , i s tha t th e road s we'v e been following , a s marke d o n this map, " he indicate d her forme r hat , "d o not , i n fact , exist . T o b e exact , this m a p ha s show n u s dirt roads . Thu s ou r mutua l confusion. Thu s ou r m u t u a l lateness. " Laura fel t blamed , a s i f she' d draw n th e m a p a s well a s wor n it , bu t sh e kne w tha t she' d bee n naughty, s o no w sh e wa s quiet . Th e worm s ha d mad e her fee l superior . Fo r a moment , bac k ther e i n th e store, she' d fel t abov e i t all—abov e him , especially . [98]
Tenure Track But th e superiority , alon g wit h th e worms , dre w far ther an d farthe r behin d he r a s th e ca r progresse d up th e road . Soo n prid e an d "liv e bait " alik e wer e swallowed u p b y ye t anothe r tangl e o f green ; th e car turne d a n ambiguou s corner , plunge d downhill , passed a sig n fo r th e tow n limit . "Now," Stephe n sai d wit h satisfaction , "we'r e o n the righ t track! " Laura's stomac h dre w tigh t wit h dread , bu t sh e knew tha t Stephe n fel t badl y abou t i t all , an d whe n she kne w that , sh e trie d t o mak e hi m fee l better ; s o she sai d nothing . Th e par t o f he r tha t ha d revele d i n being lost , tha t longe d t o remai n los t wit h hi m i n thi s narrow worl d o f fores t an d dashboar d fo r th e res t o f the day , th e res t o f th e night , perhap s always , wa s si lenced. "What's sh e like? " she asked . Stephen wa s pleased . "She' s ver y nice . She' s ver y down t o earth . She' s ver y . . . normal." "Just lik e us, " Laura said . Stephen looke d towar d he r t o se e i f sh e wer e jok ing, bu t he r expressio n wa s serious . Sh e wa s contem plating leave s an d bushe s wit h grea t seriousness . Suddenly h e stoppe d th e car . "Thi s i s it! " H e backed i t u p s o fas t tha t a clou d o f dus t billowe d u p from th e tires . "You're a sharp-eye d one! " Laur a said . Althoug h [99]
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she'd bee n starin g avidl y a t th e greenery , sh e hadn' t even see n th e littl e mailbo x juttin g ou t betwee n th e trees bearin g th e honore d nam e an d number . Jus t beyond th e mailbo x wa s a dir t drivewa y tha t woun d up throug h th e fores t an d int o obscurity . Stephen hesitated . "D'y a thin k thi s coul d b e it? " he asked , wrinklin g hi s forehea d an d turnin g a littl e piece o f whit e line d paper , th e stuf f o f studen t note books, aroun d i n hi s hands . O n th e pape r wa s a barely decipherabl e scribble : th e ver y incorrec t di rections give n b y th e President' s Wife . "You'd thin k she' d kno w wher e sh e lives, " Laur a said, reproachfully . Stephen ignore d her . "Well , thi s i s th e number ; and thi s i s the street . I guess thi s i s it. " "I reckon so , Mr. Clark. " He turne d th e ca r u p th e hill . The drivewa y wa s stee p an d ful l o f ruts . Togethe r they jounce d an d rattle d u p betwee n th e slende r trees, packe d her e s o tightly , Laur a thought , tha t a rabbit couldn' t pas s betwee n th e trunks . A t eac h cor ner the y expecte d t o se e th e house ; bu t th e hous e eluded them , an d th e roa d continue d t o climb. Every thing wa s i n shadow ; th e sk y seeme d t o hav e with drawn. I t becam e a tin y slas h o f blue , ver y fa r abov e them.
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Tenure Track At last , jus t whe n the y ha d agree d t o tur n back , there wa s th e house . It crouche d agains t a n outjuttin g o f rock , a s i f i t had grow n there ; i t wa s grey , an d weathered , an d had a grea t preponderanc e o f windows . I t wa s lik e anybody's s u m m e r house , Laur a thought : ther e wa s the rust y barbecue , restin g b y a clum p o f shrubs , there wa s a tenni s racquet , cas t dow n int o th e gras s (she though t mayb e th e gras s ha d grow n u p throug h the tenni s racquet , bu t tha t mus t b e wrong ; clearl y the tenni s racque t ha d jus t bee n throw n ther e afte r a humiliating defea t o n th e courts) , ther e wa s th e ro w of fishing rod s leanin g agains t th e wall . And ye t some thing seeme d t o b e wrong . Suddenly, Laur a realize d wha t i t was : shutter s were hanging . Ove r i n a corne r wa s a dust y stac k o f bricks, a s i f somebod y ha d intende d t o pav e th e wal k but ha d forgotten . Ther e wa s a bir d feede r o n a gree n pole, but n o birdsee d i n it . The plac e wa s dumpy . "What a strang e plac e t o live, " she said . But Stephe n hadn' t notice d th e hous e yet . He wa s glancing aroun d nervously . "Should I par k here? " h e wondered . "N o on e else has . D o yo u thin k it' s al l righ t t o leav e th e ca r here?" "Where else? " Laur a said , raisin g he r eyebrows ,
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and waitin g fo r h i m t o notic e th e unimaginable : th e President's Hous e wa s a Dump . He continue d no t t o notice . "Yes , yes , o f course . Where els e woul d I park ? Th e road' s reall y to o nar row, n o on e els e wil l b e abl e t o ge t b y i f I par k there . . . " "Poor Stephen, " Laur a said , rubbing hi s shoulder . "So young, s o eager t o d o th e righ t thin g . . ." He cu t th e engine , an d the y steppe d ou t o f the car . They ha d expecte d t o b e greete d b y shouts , o r th e meaty "pock " o f tenni s balls , o r th e clinkin g o f ic e in fiv e doze n glasse s o f whiskey , o r th e rumbl e o f intellectual conversatio n pitte d b y a fe w off-colo r howlers; instea d the y wer e greete d b y silence , the n the buzzin g o f insect s numerou s bu t invisible , the n an enigmati c plas h revealin g th e nearnes s o f water . They walke d forward , towar d th e house , an d sud denly coul d se e th e pon d behin d it , mor e gree n tha n blue, thank s t o a n immens e enthusias m o f wate r lil ies. A saggin g doc k reache d tentativel y ou t int o th e froggy muck . Suddenly, Stephen , too , realize d tha t somethin g was wrong . But befor e h e coul d sa y it , a doo r opened , an d through i t emerge d th e President' s Wife . Sh e swep t down upo n the m i n he r gauz y loungin g dres s lik e a n
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Tenure Track entire swar m o f butterflies , sleeve s fluttering every where. "Steve! You'r e here ! I' m delighted ! Thi s mus t b e your wife , Lauren! " Sh e offere d Laur a he r hand , bu t withdrew i t withou t touching . "Th e direction s wer e fine, I' m sure ? Sinc e you'r e here , afte r al l . . ." He r voice fade d int o a giggle . "It's Laura, " Laur a said . "Pardon?" Th e President' s Wif e peere d closel y through he r glasses ; th e lense s magnifie d he r eyes . "Laura, no t Lauren. " "Oh! That' s all ! I' m sorry , dear , sorry . It' s stil l delightful t o se e you , though , isn' t it ? Com e o n int o the house! " There wa s n o tim e fo r a reply ; sh e disappeare d inside ahea d o f them . Laur a ha d jus t enoug h tim e t o pull a fac e a t Stephe n befor e the y steppe d throug h the doo r int o th e President' s House . All a t onc e the y wer e inundated : b y a smel l lik e rotting apples , b y strang e ominou s pile s o f stuff, packed everywher e (i n th e narro w e n try way, alon g the walls , o n table s an d chair s an d counters) , an d b y the voic e o f th e President' s Wife . Th e voic e carrie d them throug h th e first dangerousl y leanin g pile s o f junk lik e a raf t crossin g th e Rive r Styx ; an d o n th e other shor e ther e wa s mor e an d mor e an d mor e
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junk—room afte r roo m o f junk , i t seeme d t o Laur a and Stephen , a s the y traile d alon g afte r th e voice . The President' s Wif e recede d befor e them , roo m b y room, jus t a s he r hous e ha d recede d befor e the m a t every ben d i n th e road . They' d catc h sigh t o f he r gauzy sleeve , an d she' d b e gone , aroun d anothe r cor ner. Bu t th e voice—th e voice—tha t voice ! "I tol d Harr y yo u wer e coming—yo u know , I' m so excite d t o hav e yo u come ! I wan t desperately t o show yo u m y newes t acquisitions , Steve . I' m dyin g for you r opinion . It' s s o nic e t o hav e someon e ne w o n the faculty , a ne w face , ne w ideas , ne w opinions , ne w friends. Believ e i t o r not , Steve , I don' t entertai n al l that much . Thi s i s a rea l trea t fo r me . Yo u kno w tha t I just go t bac k fro m abroad , don' t you ? Oh , o f course , what o n eart h a m I saying ! I jus t tol d yo u abou t m y new acquisitions , sur e yo u kno w I'v e bee n travelin g . . . I alway s ge t s o breathles s whe n I travel , don' t you? S o muc h comin g an d going , to-in g an d fro ing . . . In th e di m light , Laur a reache d ou t t o poke on e o f the pile s o f stuff , an d he r fingers san k int o a strange , soft w a r m t h . "Stephen!" sh e hisse d an d grabbe d hi s hand , t o dissuade hi m fro m th e siren . "Laura! Don' t b e ridiculous! " Stephe n said , shushing her , althoug h i t wa s impossibl e tha t anyon e [104]
Tenure Track could hav e heard , ove r tha t voice ; impossibl e tha t there wa s anyon e t o hear , amon g s o man y piles , wit h so little light , an d tha t smel l o f rotting apples . "It's s o stuff y i n here ! I'm s o sorry , Steve , tha t it' s so stuffy . Bu t I'v e bee n abroad , yo u know , an d s o th e house hasn' t bee n open . Harr y stay s i n tow n mos t o f the time , t o b e clos e t o al l yo u folks . He' s a rea l homebody. Bu t I' m on e fo r travel . That' s on e o f th e real contradiction s o f our marriage , yo u know. " The voic e suddenl y too k root , an d al l a t onc e Laura an d Stephe n foun d themselve s i n th e kitchen , looking a t th e wid e gauz y r u m p o f th e President' s Wife a s sh e ben t ove r t o peer int o th e refrigerator . She poppe d ou t o f i t smiling , wit h a piec e o f smoked fish o n a littl e chin a plate . "I' m talkin g aw fully fast , aren' t I? " sh e asked . "I' m bein g awfull y rude. I don' t mea n t o be . Would yo u lik e a snack ? I'v e got plent y o f food . An d a drink ? W e mus t ge t yo u a drink afte r you r lon g drive . Wine? Beer ? Vodka ? Let' s go out o n th e patio. " Laura an d Stephe n looke d ou t o f th e President' s kitchen windo w a t th e President' s patio ; an d beyon d it, t o th e President' s dock , wher e th e President' s ca noe quivere d amon g th e President' s wate r lilies ; an d beyond that , acros s th e President' s verdan t lagoon ; and beyon d that , t o . . . nothing. There wa s n o faculty , no Dea n o f Students , n o huff y Provost , n o undergrad [105]
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uate dresse d lik e a Frenc h maid , n o tenni s players , n o lousy academi c jokes . "Oh, I' m s o sorry! " Laur a squeaked—sh e kne w she wa s squeaking , sh e kne w sh e shouldn' t squeak , but sh e couldn' t hel p it . "We'r e early!" The President' s Wif e didn' t hear ; sh e h a d dippe d back int o th e refrigerator , profferin g onc e agai n he r prodigious silke n backside ; an d onc e agai n sh e emerged, thi s tim e bearin g a littl e roun d containe r o f onion dip. "You ca n cal l m e Margot , dear, " sh e said . "That'l l be perfectl y fine." Dip an d fish wer e arrange d o n a plat e wit h crack ers; an d Laur a an d Stephe n likewis e wer e arrange d upon th e President' s patio , i n whit e chair s darkene d by gri t an d festoone d wit h th e weaving s o f spiders ye t unseen. Margo t (self-christene d wit h suc h familiarity , Stephen thought ) disappeare d i n an d out , freneti cally, wavin g he r butterfl y sleeves . "My goodness," she said , plantin g he r h a n d o n he r forehead i n moc k consternation . "There' s somethin g I'm forgetting . Definitely , I' m forgettin g something . What i s it , Steve ? Oh ! of course! " She disappeare d again , the n reappeare d lade n with bottles : a m a g n u m o f whit e wine , a pin t o f vodka, somethin g pin k tha t Laur a imagine d woul d
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Tenure Track taste lik e flowers. Sh e wa s abou t t o sa y so , whe n sh e caught a loo k fro m Stephen . "Be quiet, " th e loo k said , "it' s the President's
Wife!" But hi s mout h said , "Thi s i s a lovel y place , Mar got. Yo u an d Harr y ar e s o luck y t o hav e you r ow n pond." Laura coul d se e hi m savorin g th e names : Margot and Harry, rolle d o n hi s tongu e an d sucke d towar d his tonsils , jus t lik e th e wine . Fo r a momen t sh e fel t superior again , contemplatin g hi m a s sh e ha d con templated earthworm s roilin g i n a tub . "It woul d b e muc h nicer , Steve , i f Harr y woul d take car e o f th e wate r lilies . D o yo u kno w tha t wate r lilies doubl e ever y day ? It' s true, " sh e sighed , wit h mock sorrow . "Twic e a s man y tomorro w a s today . Harry hasn' t treate d the m i n three years, yo u know. " Laura giggled , an d fel t wit h satisfactio n th e touc h of th e su n o n he r shoulders , despit e th e smel l o f th e pond, ther e beneat h he r feet . I n th e su n i t wa s eas y to forge t everythin g rotten , t o ignor e th e inexorabl e progress o f water lilies . Stephe n sippe d hi s win e wit h a loo k o f confusion . Margot evidentl y too k i t fo r disdain . "It' s no t on e of th e finer labels, " sh e said . Sh e turne d th e bottl e s o that Laur a an d Stephe n coul d se e th e pric e tag .
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"Oh, don' t worr y abou t him, " Laur a said . "He'l l swallow anything . Won' t you , Odysseus? " Sh e prod ded hi m i n th e side , laughin g an d turnin g he r fac e u p toward th e sun . There wa s a silence . The n Margo t poure d hersel f a vodka . "I'v e bee n talkin g s o fast, " sh e said . "This'l l slow m e down. " Sh e swallowe d it ; poure d another . Encouraged b y th e chea p brew , Stephe n decide d to pu t fort h hi s question : "Wher e i s everyone? " Margot squinte d behin d he r glasses . "I told Harr y you wer e coming, " sh e said . "H e promise d t o joi n us . I tol d him , 'Harry , thi s delightfu l youn g m a n work s for you—ther e h e is , sittin g u p ther e i n tha t squeak y ivory towe r o f yours , an d yo u don' t eve n kno w him . Shame! Shame ! Shame! ' " Margo t shoo k he r pal e fat finger. "S o h e sai d he' d come . I intimidate d him , I'd say! " Sh e leane d bac k i n he r whit e chair , blon d and resplenden t a s a monarch , an d Stephe n blushe d to imagin e it : h e wa s ne w i n town , an d alread y a topic o f conversatio n a t th e President' s breakfas t table. "I'm sur e Harr y appreciate d it, " Laur a said , reaching forwar d t o tea r of f a bi t o f smoke d fish wit h her fingers. "Savage!" Stephe n said . Laura smile d sweetl y an d chewe d th e fish.
[108]
Tenure Track At tha t Margo t bega n t o tal k again : o f her travels , of he r "acquisitions/ ' o f th e friend s she' d mad e abroad, o f th e mone y she' d spen t an d intende d ye t t o spend, o f th e interestin g sight s she' d see n an d ho w breathless the y mad e he r . . . Yet i t wa s impossibl e t o tell wha t i t wa s sh e ha d acquired , o r jus t wher e i t was sh e h a d been . I t al l flowed aroun d the m i n a miasma o f talk , which , Laur a decided , wasn' t reall y so unpleasan t i f yo u brok e i t dow n t o sound , t o sylla bles, t o ra w consonant s an d vowel s an d rhythms , i f you though t o f i t a s music , filled wit h harmon y o r discord dependin g upo n th e whi m o f th e composer , but meanin g . . . nothing . Margo t poure d a s sh e talked; sh e refille d Stephen' s win e glas s agai n an d again; Laura's , whic h remaine d full , sh e passe d ove r in favo r o f he r own , whic h wa s constantl y emptyin g and refilling , first wit h vodka , the n wit h wine , the n with th e pinkis h liqueur , whic h smelle d (a s Laur a had suspected ) o f flowers. Abruptly, i n th e mids t o f al l he r talking , Margo t fell silent ; sh e eye d th e pond . "It woul d b e s o muc h nice r i f Harr y woul d d o th e weeds," sh e said . Then , jus t a s suddenly , sh e stood , with th e glas s o f somethin g pin k balance d o n he r palm. "S o what! " sh e cried . "S o what ! W e ca n stil l d o it! Steve , Lauren—w e mus t g o out i n th e canoe ! It's a
[109]
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wonderful experience , th e canoe ! O f cours e I don' t want t o forc e you . But , well—yes , I do ! I d o wan t to forc e you ! W e mus t g o ou t i n th e canoe ! I'l l ge t us hats! " She ra n int o th e house , bangin g th e doo r behin d her. "Stephen," Laur a said . " I don' t wan t t o go . I' m not going. " Stephen onl y shrugged , an d regarde d th e to e o f his lef t shoe . H e ha d pu t o n hi s ne w shoe s fo r th e visit, an d no w ther e wa s a brow n cak e o f m u d o n th e toe. "Well, " h e finally said , "sh e is th e President' s Wife." The doo r banged , an d sh e wa s amon g the m onc e again, he r a r m s festoone d wit h hats . Stephe n selecte d a softl y slouchin g fisherman's hat ; Margo t pu t o n a wide-brimmed stra w ha t dye d wit h alternatin g ring s of purpl e an d orange . Silentl y Laur a regarde d th e final hat , restin g i n th e croo k o f Margot' s elbow . "No than k you, " sh e said , primly . "Come, come , dear, " Margo t piped . "You'l l ge t sunstroke. Thi s isn' t a fashio n show , i s it ? Wh o care s how yo u look—you'r e amon g friends! " "No than k you, " Laur a said . Fo r a momen t i t wa s not altogethe r clea r wha t sh e ha d turne d down . The n she turne d bac k t o tu g a t th e smoke d fish. Margot seeme d no t t o hav e heard—indeed , sh e [110]
Tenure Track seemed t o have forgotte n Laur a altogether . "Come on , Steve . Yo u ca n si t i n th e front , wit h those stron g a r m s o f yours , an d I'l l steer. " The y headed dow n th e stee p ban k towar d th e dock , leavin g Laura o n th e patio . Stephe n looke d bac k a t h e r — i t seemed t o Laur a tha t th e loo k invite d he r t o chang e her mind . Instea d sh e frowned , an d silentl y mouthe d two words : "She' s crocked! " Stephe n pretende d no t to understand , an d climbe d int o th e for e en d o f th e President's canoe . Laura continue d chewin g a s the y pushe d of f awk wardly fro m th e dock , a s th e silve r cano e threade d through th e gree n an d whit e fabri c o f lil y pads . Sh e finished th e smoke d fish a s the y rounde d a curv e i n the pon d (he r fingers wer e oil y now ; the y smelle d o f fish, o f rot , o f death) . A s th e cano e recede d behin d a bend sh e starte d o n th e onio n dip . Th e cracker s wer e d a m p , bu t sh e smeare d the m wit h dip , on e afte r an other, jus t th e same . A t las t th e cano e vanished ; onl y the euphori c tril l o f Margot's laug h remained , magni fied acros s th e wate r lik e th e matin g cr y o f a brigh t exotic bir d i n th e gree n jungle . Alone a t th e edg e o f tha t bi g humi d house , Laur a felt suddenl y afraid . Whe n th e cano e ha d first pushe d off—when i t h a d first becom e clea r t o he r tha t Ste phen reall y intende d t o g o withou t her—sh e ha d imagined hersel f runnin g throug h th e house , openin g [111]
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it up : ever y drawer , ever y closet , ever y cabinet , ever y book, ever y envelope . She' d rea d ever y letter , she' d examine ever y glass , she' d eve n lif t th e cove r of f th e butter dish ; she' d pro d he r wa y t o the to p an d botto m of ever y mysteriou s stac k o f stuff , unti l sh e finally found th e essenc e o f it—th e essenc e o f being th e Pres ident's Wife , th e wif e o f a powerfu l m a n . Bu t no w that sh e wa s finally alone , sh e couldn' t d o it . Sh e wa s afraid; Stephe n ha d lef t withou t her . As i f summone d b y he r unhapp y thoughts , a spi der sidle d ou t ont o th e patio ; i t crep t ou t fro m be tween tw o boards , extendin g it s blac k leg s first, lik e fingers. Th e leg s wer e a s lon g a s fingers, Laur a thought; th e bod y wa s thick , meaty , ovoid , an d blac k as a n olive . Sh e screame d an d jumpe d up , knockin g over he r chair . Sh e retreated , i n spit e o f herself , int o the house . Inside i t wa s silent , smelly ; a cloc k vibrate d o n the counter . Th e hous e wa s thic k wit h th e sens e o f invasion, a s i f it coul d fee l Laur a there—a s i f it migh t try t o pus h he r out . Laur a leane d o n th e counter , then o n th e sink . Sh e opene d th e refrigerator . I t wa s empty, excep t fo r a fe w bottle s o f bee r an d die t sod a and a wedg e o f cheese , stil l wrappe d i n plastic . I n the freeze r sh e foun d a re d hai l o f tin y tomatoes ; nothing else . In a cabine t wer e mor e bottles : vodka , rum , whis [112]
Tenure Track key, brandy , brandy , brandy . Ther e wer e boxe s o f crackers, al l opened , non e empty . I n th e drawer , th e usual silverware , al l o f i t gritty ; a rust y spatula ; a knife cake d wit h drie d egg . The insid e o f an uppe r cabine t wa s plastere d wit h bits o f paper : littl e notes , newspape r advertisements , a cut-ou t phot o o f a popula r televisio n journalist . They wer e ragge d bits , a s i f tor n an d tape d carelessl y there. Laur a sa w tha t tun a wa s o n sale , tw o can s fo r a dollar , tha t th e hors e jumpin g finals wer e bein g held i n Newport , tha t mol d spore s wer e wors t i n Au gust. Sentences , written i n Margot' s hand , wer e tape d there, too : "tak e 3 before bedtime, " "groomer' s hours , 8:30 t o 1:30, " and , i n th e mids t o f i t all , he r ow n phone number , he r husband' s name . Laura stare d a t he r number . I t seeme d strange , almost mystical , tape d u p lik e tha t insid e th e cabine t of a stranger . Th e cut-ou t televisio n journalis t stare d back a t he r throug h elegan t Asia n eyes—col d eye s that mad e n o claim s fo r Margot' s sanity . She slamme d shu t th e cabinet , an d ra n outside . She ra n dow n t o th e pond' s edg e i n tim e t o se e Stephen an d Margo t paddl e u p t o th e ricket y dock . For a momen t sh e though t tha t the y woul d wal k across th e lil y pad s an d bac k t o th e shore—th e gree n deceiving mas s seeme d tha t solid . Instea d the y car ried ou t th e mino r gymnasti c necessitate d b y th e [113]
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shaky connectio n o f boa t an d dock , steppin g awk wardly, tentatively , lik e ducks , sh e thought , ont o th e wood. Stephe n wa s smiling , sweating—soakin g wet . Margot likewise , he r plumag e soppe d wit h stinkin g pond water . "Gone fishin'? " Laur a asked . "No h a r m , n o h a r m , n o h a r m done! " Margot san g out, an d ra n towar d th e house , arm s flapping. "W e have t o chang e fo r dinne r anyway! " Stephen stoope d t o ti e th e canoe . Laura , behin d him, prodde d hi s d a m p buttock s wit h he r toe . "I wan t t o go, " sh e said—whispered , s o tha t th e President's Wif e wouldn' t hear . Stephen ros e slowly , professorially , havin g ig nored th e digi t i n hi s posterior , wit h a n attitud e tha t suggested h e wa s prepare d t o ignor e muc h more . "Margot want s t o sho w u s he r ne w acquisitions, " h e said. "She's a loon, " Laur a said . "It woul d b e rude, " Stephe n said . "She's drunk, " Laur a said . "For tha t matter, " sai d Stephen , eve r th e pedant , so a m I . And s o the y trudged , on e afte r th e other , u p th e slippery slop e t o th e President' s patio . Midcours e i n the mud , Stephe n leane d a confidin g li p t o Laura' s ear: "This, " he whispered , "i s th e President's hat!" [114]
Tenure Track She, cold wit h disgust , di d no t respond , bu t imag ined othe r digits , vengefully employed . Gaining th e to p step , the y sa w tha t Margo t ha d exchanged he r d a m p Madam e Butterfl y fo r a sumptu ous rust-colore d robe , tie d aroun d th e wais t wit h a yellow wove n bel t weighte d b y a cluste r o f thic k silk y fringe, lik e a lam p tassel . "Margot," sai d Stephen lovely."
, reverently , "that'
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She twirle d aroun d o n th e to p step . "It is , isn't it ? It's on e o f m y newest . Wha t d o yo u think , Lauren? " "It remind s m e o f something, " Laur a said , diplo matically. Margot blinke d behin d he r glasses . "I' m sur e we'll find somethin g t o sui t you , dear, " sh e said . " I have s o muc h stuff . Why , acre s an d acre s an d acre s . . . i t make s m e breathles s jus t thinkin g abou t it! " She laughe d a little— a privat e laugh , hermeticall y sealed. "Bu t wh y wast e tim e thinking ! Com e on ! Come o n in! " Laura lingere d o n th e patio . "I'l l wai t ou t here, " she said . "Nothing o f th e kind, " sai d Stephen , sternly . H e admonished he r a s h e migh t hav e admonishe d a n undergraduate—thinly, withou t hope . Bu t Laur a was no t a n undergraduate , an d sh e love d him , s o sh e followed hi m inside . [115]
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Margot ha d dive d int o on e o r anothe r o f thos e rooms o f dar k mystery . Laur a an d Stephen , lingerin g in th e kitche n (on e humbly , on e fearfully ) hear d shuf fling an d scraping , th e occasiona l muffle d "Aha! " Laura imagine d tha t corpse s wer e bein g dragge d across th e floor i n there ; Stephen , tha t pile s o f book s were shifte d t o mak e roo m fo r th e viewin g o f a mas terpiece. The y inhale d th e pungen t stenc h o f rottin g apples, o f cornucopi a gon e t o seed . "There! Ther e w e go ! Steve ! Lauren ! Wher e ar e t) you? The voic e summoned , an d the y obeyed . "Okay! No w clos e you r eyes! " They squinche d shu t thei r lids , an d hun g han d in h a n d upo n th e threshol d o f who-knew-what ; the n Margot switche d o n th e light , thei r eye s popped open , and thei r mutua l imagining s evaporate d inscrutabl y toward th e ceiling . "Why, Margot, " Laur a said . "Well," said Stephen . The roo m wa s filled wit h clothes . Mor e tha n filled: i t wa s packed , crammed , stacked . Th e room ness o f th e roo m wa s obliterate d b y a rio t o f sleeve s and hems , cuff s an d collars , buttons , buttons , but tons—the wall s ha d disappeared ; th e horizon , i t seemed, wa s mad e o f silk s an d cottons . Th e clothe s were no t hung , bu t ros e aroun d the m i n disorganize d [116]
Tenure Track mounds. Laur a though t sh e saw the mounds contrac t and expand , inhal e an d exhale . . . "Why, Margot," sh e said again . "Thi s i s just amaz ing. Really. Than k yo u for showing i t t o us." Gripping Stephen' s a r m , sh e turne d a s i f t o go . But Stephe n didn' t move—hi s a r m oppose d her , and she couldn' t le t it go, so she stayed . "This i s nothing , dear, " sai d Margot , modestly . "Just on e room. Bu t m y favorit e room . Thes e ar e m y favorite thing s . . . " Sh e dawdle d of f int o a corner , nearly disappearin g betwee n th e clothes , an d the n draped a sleev e ove r he r shoulder . "An d yo u kno w what tha t means , Lauren . Thes e ar e th e newest . I always lik e m y newest acquisition s best , don' t you? " She continue d o n t o another mound , unearthe d a silk blouse , an d displaye d i t agains t hersel f lik e a jewel. " I bought al l o f thes e o n m y las t trip . Thi s on e came fro m Thailan d . . . the y hav e wonderfu l silk s there, you know, an d so inexpensive . . ." She abandone d th e blouse fo r a fu r coat—leane d into th e fu r a s i f i t wer e a bath . "Isn' t thi s on e gor geous? I bought i t in Russia—it's eas y wit h America n dollars, an d I have lot s o f those, you know. It' s wolf. " Laura imagine d Margo t i n Russia , pursuin g wolf . But Margo t ha d alread y move d on ; she was ferretin g something ou t from th e bottom o f a stack—the whol e thing swayed , Laur a an d Stephe n hel d thei r breath , [117]
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waiting fo r th e collaps e . . . and the n Margo t emerge d with fists ful l o f men' s shirts . "I bough t thes e fo r Harr y i n Bangkok . Speciall y cut fo r hi s measurements . He' s neve r wor n them . Imagine th e waste ! Cu t speciall y fo r him ! Nothin g t o be done . Bu t no w you , Steve , the y migh t fit. Let' s se e if the y fit." "No, really , I couldn't," sai d Stephen , blushing . "Nonsense!" sai d Margot . Sh e hel d a shir t u p against Stephen' s chest , stretche d th e sleeve s ou t along hi s a r m s . "Haha! " sh e pronounce d trium phantly. "Jus t a s I thought . They'l l fit lik e a charm . Take them , please . I insist . They'r e waste d here , Steve." "Well," Stephe n said , an d relented . Laura scowled . Margo t mistoo k he r loo k fo r something else . "Now don' t thin k I'v e forgotte n you , dear . Com e right ove r her e an d pic k somethin g out . Anythin g you want. " "No than k you, " Laur a said . I t wa s no t th e first time sh e ha d sai d thos e word s t o Margot , an d Margo t remembered. "No than k you , n o than k you , n o than k you . Can' t you sa y anythin g else ? Honestly , Lauren , yo u remin d me o f m y husband . Alway s sayin g no . Sa y ye s fo r a change, dear . You'l l loo k lovel y a t th e facult y Christ [118]
Tenure Track mas part y i n this. " She hel d ou t a lavende r dres s wit h a hug e ruffl e a t th e colla r an d anothe r o n th e rear . Laura relinquishe d Stephen' s a r m . Sh e left , al most befor e Stephe n kne w sh e mean t t o leave . The y heard th e pati o doo r sla m behin d her . "Oh dear, " Margo t said , absentmindedly . "No w I've offende d her , haven' t I? " Stephen suppose d tha t sh e had . "Life ca n b e s o draining , Steve . Universit y lif e especially. There' s alway s someon e read y t o b e of fended. A h well . A t leas t there' s stil l yo u an d me . Let's dres s fo r dinner , shal l we? " Stephen though t ther e wa s somethin g wron g about it , bu t withou t Laur a ther e t o tel l him , h e wasn't sur e jus t what . Besides , Laur a ha d lef t with out him . She' d lef t hi m there , i n tha t closet , wit h Margot an d Margot' s clothes . Margot too k hi s confusio n fo r acquiescence . "I thin k we'l l b e eatin g oriental, " sh e mused . "Le t me pic k ou t somethin g appropriat e . . . " She wandere d amon g th e quiverin g sof t mounds , poking her e an d there , sometime s leanin g dow n s o that sh e disappeare d altogether , leavin g Stephe n t o look longingl y ove r hi s shoulde r fo r Laur a . . . Laur a who wa s gone , Laur a wh o ha d lef t him . Instea d o f Laura h e foun d Margo t offerin g hi m a blu e silke n kimono wit h a hug e orang e su n emblazone d o n th e [119]
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back. An d sinc e Laur a wasn' t ther e t o tel l hi m wha t to do , Stephe n pu t i t on . Margot clappe d an d hooted . "Perfect ! Perfect ! You're s o perfec t I coul d ea t you fo r dinner ! No w Harry, y'know , woul d neve r wea r that—afte r al l th e trouble I too k t o ge t i t . . . But enough , enough . No w for m e . . ." She truffle d awa y amon g he r acquisitions . Ste phen sa w stack s swaying , assume d tha t Margo t wa s changing he r clothes , an d looke d modestl y a t hi s feet . His forma l shoe s looke d od d pokin g ou t beneat h th e kimono, ver y od d indeed , especiall y wit h tha t m u d all ove r them . Suddenl y inspired , h e pulle d of f hi s shoes; bu t the n hi s blac k sock s looke d ver y strang e protruding beneat h th e blu e silk , and s o he too k thos e off too . H e stoo d i n hi s bar e feet , an d fel t grim e be neath hi s toes . Margot sashaye d befor e hi m i n a flowing purpl e sari. "Wha t d o yo u think , Steve ? Isn' t i t simpl y de lightful?" "Delightful," Stephe n echoed . "I'm no t sure, " Margo t said , pensive . "Mayb e yel low woul d b e mor e appropriate . Yes , yellow . Cheer y good fellowship . Fu n i n th e sun . Buttercups . Yellow , Steve, yellow i t is! " She disappeare d agai n amon g he r magica l sway ing piles ; agai n th e sound s o f rootin g an d grunting ; [120]
Tenure Track then Margot , onc e agai n befor e him , thi s tim e al l i n yellow, lik e a n enthusiasti c s u m m e r squash . "Now," sh e said , reachin g ou t t o tak e hi s han d i n her jewele d pudg y one , "were set." Stephen fel t lik e ther e wa s somethin g wron g about it ; bu t sinc e Laur a wasn' t ther e t o tel l hi m (h e looked agai n ove r hi s shoulder , bu t Laur a wa s gone) , he too k Margot' s hand . Afte r all , sh e was th e Presi dent's Wife . It wa s a mistake . Fo r Margot , wastin g n o time , grasped Stephen' s hand , pulle d hi m towar d her , an d kissed hi m ful l o n th e lips . "I knew yo u wer e different , Steve, " sh e whispere d ecstatically. "No t lik e Harry . No t lik e tha t idio t Drake, o r tha t Edmondson , o r Elio t Lexington . No w that she's gon e w e ca n b e hones t wit h eac h other. " Dimly (fo r everythin g becam e di m t o Stephe n a s he bent , onc e again , t o mee t Margot' s wrinkle d ol d lips) i t seeme d t o Stephe n tha t Drak e an d Edmond son an d Elio t Lexingto n wer e al l colleagues . "Isn't Elio t Lexingto n i n Biology? " Margot gav e a derogator y snicker , a hoo t o f deri sion. "Yes , Steve , he' s i n Biology , bu t he' s no t into biology, i f you kno w wha t I mean. " She kisse d hi m again ; Stephe n knew , withou t Laura's advice , tha t h e ha d mad e a mistake—bu t t o fix it , t o fix it , ho w woul d h e d o that ? [121]
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"Margot," h e sputtered , betwee n slopp y we t ones , "you're the President's Wife!" H e steppe d backwards , his fee t wer e caugh t i n a n invisibl e sleeve , and h e fell . Stacks an d mound s an d grove s o f clothin g fel l unde r him, o n him , an d aroun d him . H e wa s u p t o hi s nec k in textiles . Women an d childre n ha d labore d i n swea t shops t o brea k hi s fall . Bu t a s Margo t ha d gon e dow n with him , i t seeme d hi s metaphysica l fal l woul d con tinue. "Don't le t i t bothe r you , Steve, " sh e gasped , spit ting ou t a shirttail . "H e doesn' t care . Harr y doesn' t care. He'l l neve r know , Steve . Thi s i s betwee n yo u and me! " She ha d rolle d ove r ont o hi s ches t an d pinne d him t o a stac k o f woolens. S o close, she was revolting : pockmarked fac e cake d wit h makeup , hai r brassil y stripped an d dyed . Sh e wa s a pumpki n wit h a lascivi ous Hallowee n grin : Tric k o r Treat ! "You know , Steve , I alway s kne w yo u wer e differ ent," th e pumpki n said . "Fro m th e first minut e I sa w you, ove r ther e a t ol d Harrison' s p a r t y — m y God , what a n ol d far t tha t Harriso n is ! Don't yo u thin k so , Steve? Ther e ar e s o man y fart s o n th e facult y Steve , and m y Harry , th e hea d o f i t al l . . . Anyway, Steve , the poin t is , I kne w i t eve n then : me for you, and you for me . . ." Margot trille d t o th e tun e o f a n ol d ballad ,
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Tenure Track and he r h a n d descended , descende d throug h muffler s and wraps . Stephen trie d desperatel y t o thin k o f a literar y precedent, bu t nothin g i n th e cano n ha d prepare d him fo r Margot . Al l a t onc e h e wa s shouting : "Ge t off ! Get off ! M y chest! " "What i s it , Steve? " Margo t shoute d back . "I s i t your heart ? O h Steve ! You'r e to o young ! You'r e to o young!" She rolle d awa y int o th e piles o f clothes, weeping ; Stephen rolle d i n th e opposit e direction . H e couldn' t find hi s footin g i n tha t profusio n o f textiles ; ever y time h e though t he' d foun d th e floor, sleeve s an d skirts an d pan t leg s seeme d t o ris e u p an d pul l hi m back down . H e wa s flailing, h e kne w it , bu t h e couldn't hel p it ; s o h e flailed. Clothe s fel l i n sheets . I t was a monsoo n o f clothes . Hi s leg s wer e caugh t i n a sweater vest , hi s a r m s wrappe d i n a burnoose ; a pai r of frill y pin k pantie s fel l ont o hi s fac e lik e a web . H e kicked an d spa t an d struggle d t o ge t free . Somewher e in tha t dar k nigh t o f lingerie , h e knew , Margo t wa s flailing, too ; althoug h h e couldn' t se e he r h e coul d hear he r grunting , coul d imagin e he r rollin g lik e a pumpkin, knockin g dow n mor e clothing , an d more , and more . All he coul d d o was roll , desperately, away . He san k int o pile s o f winte r coats , fel t mitten s clai m
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his feet , a ha t wit h a tasse l someho w lodge d unde r his kimono ; the n h e rolle d throug h a springtim e o f blouses wit h ruffles , flowered aprons , an d polyeste r stretch pants . Afte r wha t seeme d lik e month s a pur ple bikin i to p attache d itsel f t o hi s arm , an d then , al l too quickly , h e wa s bac k int o th e sweaters—itch y woolens, cotton-polyeste r blends , velour s softe r tha n his dea d mother' s hands . Then, somehow , h e wa s o n th e floor. Someho w he'd rolle d of f th e stac k an d struc k bottom . H e peele d away layer s o f brassieres , underslips , an d nighties . Margot ha d stoppe d flailing to o an d wa s curle d i n he r robe ato p a hea p o f cashmer e sweaters , fac e hidde n in he r hands . Fro m behin d th e hand s emanate d a sound lik e crying . "I think, " Stephe n said , "there' s bee n a misunder standing." And takin g u p hi s shoes , he left . While h e h a d bee n flailing i n th e sea s o f haut e couture i t ha d turne d t o dusk , the n dark . Amazing , Stephen thought , steppin g throug h gras s an d crick ets, how i t al l continue d withou t him . I n th e mornin g he ha d se t ou t i n hi s ca r wit h hi s wife ; no w h e ha d neither, an d ha d t o walk , alone . Dow n th e drivewa y he went , stil l carryin g hi s shoes . Margot' s hous e re ceded behin d hi m until , wit h it s fe w light s burning ,
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Tenure Track it cam e t o resembl e a ship , unanchored , floatin g u p and awa y int o th e ink y sky . At the botto m o f the drivewa y hi s car wa s parked ; his wif e wa s i n it , sleeping , wit h a m a p ove r he r face . "At last , Amerigo, " sh e mumbled , an d move d aside t o le t hi m behin d th e steerin g wheel . Sh e didn' t mention hi s bar e feet , o r hi s kimono . Stephen starte d u p th e ca r an d the y pulle d ou t onto th e dar k countr y road . "I think thi s i s th e way, " he said . But i n a fe w minute s the y kne w tha t the y wer e more los t tha n ever .
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•• •
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S omething's wrong , sh e sai d t o him . Wit h th e children, sh e said . Yours , sh e said , an d mine. Very wrong . What di d h e do ? H e rattle d th e newspaper . H e always hel d th e newspape r wit h th e busines s page s facing out . H e rattle d i t an d move d hi s fee t a littl e bit. Move d hi s fee t i n thos e brow n slippers , whil e sitting i n hi s brow n chair . So sh e wen t away . Wen t int o anothe r room , per haps, wher e sh e coul d wal k bac k an d forth , stoppin g only t o pic k thing s up , pausin g onl y t o pu t the m down. She coul d hea r hi m i n th e nex t room , rattlin g his newspaper . She walke d around , pickin g thing s u p an d put ting the m down . Sh e smoothe d he r fingers ove r smal l objects mad e fro m glass . She waite d fo r a soun d fro m the children' s rooms . [129]
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• Look ho w perfec t h e is ! S o cunning , perche d o n hi s haunches. S o alert . H e look s swiftl y fro m sid e t o side , wriggling hi s nose , prepare d t o lea p awa y a t th e slightest sig n o f danger . I admir e hi m a s I admir e al l perfection, an d now , whe n h e look s a t m e i n return , his eye s ar e filled wit h affection . Look ! H e j u m p s u p when I clap m y hands . I bega n teachin g hi m tha t lon g ago . I starte d b y throwing u p a bi t o f cand y i n th e air , clappin g m y hands a t th e sam e time . A t first h e jumpe d fo r th e candy. No w h e j u m ps jus t fo r me . He runs ! Of f h e goes , throug h th e hedge . Beyon d a doubt , sh e ha s run g th e dinne r bell . The hedge s swa y i n hi s wake . I g o ou t back , an d adjust th e sprinkler . Don't yo u lov e t o liste n t o th e sprinkle r o n a ho t s u m m e r day ? I t spit s agains t th e bac k o f th e hous e just th e wa y tha t I did , whe n I was a boy . • Then there' s th e othe r child , Katie . A lovely littl e girl . She ha s long , lon g blac k hair , an d eye s th e colo r o f pine trees . Sh e won' t com e throug h th e hedge , no t yet. Instea d sh e stand s ther e an d look s a t m e throug h the littl e leave s an d branches . Wha t a beauty ! I' d lik e [130]
Romulus to tea r dow n m y ow n hedge , jus t t o ge t a bette r loo k at Katie .
She didn' t kno w wha t t o do . Tha t wa s becaus e h e wouldn't answe r her , ever . Instead h e acte d a s thoug h they weren' t hi s childre n a t all . Suddenl y i t ha d be come on e o f thos e marriages , wher e everythin g con cerning th e childre n wa s lef t t o th e wife . O r mayb e i t wasn't s o sudden . Mayb e instea d i t happene d slowly . She sai d t o him , Dearest , somethin g i s wron g wit h the children . Wit h ou r so n Evan . Wit h ou r daughte r Katie. An d h e replied , Nonsens e m y dear . Ou r chil dren ar e fine. Beautiful . Healthy . Wit h blac k hai r an d green eyes . Leave the m alone . So sh e wen t throug h th e rooms , pickin g thing s up, the n puttin g the m down . Adjustin g th e curtains . Trying no t t o hea r th e noise s fro m th e children' s rooms. They wer e nic e curtains . Lac e an d puff y ruffles , i n some room s white , i n som e yellow , i n other s brown . When sh e pushe d th e curtain s aside , th e brigh t out doors wa s alway s a surprise . Sometime s sh e coul d see th e childre n i n th e yard , playing . She woul d quickl y pul l th e curtains . Tha t wa y she didn' t hav e t o se e th e childre n again , unti l i t wa s time t o rin g th e dinne r bell . [131]
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• You ca n tel l sh e doesn' t understan d it . I see her some times, standin g a t th e window , lookin g out . No ! Sh e doesn't understan d i t a t all . Jus t th e sam e sh e look s like th e littl e girl . Lon g blac k hair . Eye s fro m th e forest. I n th e mornin g sh e step s outsid e t o kis s he r husband goodbye . Sh e stand s o n th e bac k porch . Goodbye Goodbye ! sh e waves , a s h e drive s away . Very earl y i n th e morning . Jus t abou t th e tim e whe n I set th e sprinkle r ou t i n th e yard . • And thi s i s wha t th e neighborhoo d look s like : ver y ordinary. Cut e littl e houses , tw o storey , on e storey , bushes an d stuf f ou t front , nic e colors , sedat e an d suburban. White , yellow , brown , a n occasiona l gre y or maroon . Th e lawn s ar e gree n an d sparkl y fro m water spa t b y sprinklers . Her e an d there , whit e wooden fences , prickl y gree n hedges . Swin g set s an d swimming pool s tha t ca n b e glimpse d fro m th e street. Plenty o f trees . There' s n o lac k o f shade , i n thi s particular neighborhood . I n spit e o f th e s u m m e r sun , lots o f dee p shad y place s yo u coul d disappea r int o through a ga p i n a fence . Perfec t fo r children .
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Romulus A safe convenien t neighborhood , i n tha t sense . • I sa y thes e thing s smugly , a s i f I understan d them , myself. At leas t I tr y t o understand . I cla p m y hand s an d he j u m ps u p i n th e air , laughing . Soon I will teac h hi m othe r things , too . Soon hi s lovel y siste r Kati e wil l dar e t o wal k through m y hedge . • • Nothing sh e coul d d o woul d convinc e hi m tha t some thing wa s wrong . He wasn' t hom e much , tha t wa s th e real problem . H e neve r go t t o se e th e thing s tha t wer e wrong, onl y sa w tha t hi s wif e wasn' t a s attentiv e t o the childre n a s h e though t sh e shoul d hav e been . Sh e seemed t o b e wanderin g aroun d th e hous e a lot , dust ing an d s o forth , smoothin g th e couc h covers , bu t never goin g nea r th e children , o r talkin g t o them . H e was concerne d abou t it , bu t h e neve r though t th e problem wa s wit h th e children . He eve n spok e abou t i t wit h hi s neighbo r once , over th e hedge . It's m y wife , h e said . I ge t th e feelin g sh e doesn' t like th e children . Sh e doesn' t tal k t o them . Sh e won' t look at them . What ca n I do? They're perfec t children .
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The neighbo r wa s sympathetic . Mayb e i f yo u were t o discus s i t wit h her , th e neighbo r suggested . After all , she's ne w t o motherhood . This cheere d th e husban d u p . H e le t hi s neighbo r go back t o adjustin g th e sprinkler . Only whe n h e ha d gon e bac k int o th e hous e di d i t occur t o him tha t hi s wif e ha d bee n mothe r t o th e gir l for te n years , an d t o th e bo y fo r six . • It began , sh e thought , whe n Eva n wa s th e righ t ag e to wal k an d talk . Sh e notice d righ t awa y tha t h e didn't sho w a s muc h interes t i n thos e thing s a s othe r children do . Th e littl e gir l wit h th e blac k hair , wh o everyone sai d looke d s o muc h lik e he r mother , ha d been precocious . S o precociou s tha t sh e ha d seeme d to becom e a n adul t a t a ver y youn g age . But Eva n woul d no t wal k o r talk . Sh e spen t hour s by hi s be d an d hi s hig h chair , reading , talking , sing ing. Sh e le d hi m aroun d b y th e hand s o n th e livin g room rug . Bu t Eva n onl y stare d a t her . I t wasn' t tha t he seeme d d u m b . O n th e contrary , h e wa s alway s alert. Sometime s sh e eve n though t h e smiled , bu t they wer e suc h strang e smile s tha t sh e coul d neve r be sure . And th e minut e sh e release d hi s hands , h e woul d
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Romulus drop dow n o n th e carpe t an d twis t hi s hea d fro m sid e to side . The n h e woul d rac e bac k t o hi s room , alway s on hi s hand s an d knees . When h e twiste d hi s hea d lik e that , sh e starte d t o feel tha t h e wa s laughin g a t her . I t wa s onl y a m a t t e r of tim e befor e sh e stoppe d tryin g t o teac h Eva n t o walk an d talk , jus t becaus e sh e couldn' t stan d tha t feeling, tha t h e wa s laughing . • She pushe d th e whit e curtain s asid e an d looke d ou t at th e children , playin g i n th e bac k yard . Wha t beau tiful children ! Sh e ha d neve r see n suc h blac k hair , such gree n eyes . Eva n la y o n hi s bell y i n th e grass , surrounded b y dandelions . H e wa s lookin g u p a t hi s sister. Sh e stoo d righ t i n fron t o f him , holdin g ou t her hands . The n sh e clapped , an d Eva n leap t u p i n the air ! He rolle d o n hi s bac k i n th e grass . Kati e rolle d with him , ticklin g hi s stomach . From behin d th e close d window , thei r mothe r could hea r the m laughing , an d the n sh e le t th e cur tain fall . • And the n th e husban d complaine d t o hi s neighbor : I know m y wif e ha s n o interes t i n ou r children . Imag -
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ine! Sh e eve n set s m y son' s dinne r dis h o n th e floor. Fills i t wit h food , set s i t o n th e floor, an d the n ring s the dinne r bell . • At firs t I onl y wante d t o watc h them . The y wer e al ways interestin g t o watch , becaus e the y wer e s o beautiful. I woul d g o ou t i n th e bac k yar d durin g m y free time , si t aroun d o n a law n chair , alway s place d just s o I coul d loo k throug h th e hedge . Ho w coul d I help bu t admir e thei r perfection ? The n sometime s the bo y woul d yowl , an d rol l i n th e grass , an d tr y t o bite hi s sister' s fingers. A t othe r time s h e wa s quiet , staring a t th e bac k o f th e house . If I looke d tha t wa y myself , quickl y enough , I' d see th e mother , m y nex t doo r neighbor , hidin g hersel f behind a curtain , a t on e windo w o r another . I'd bee n a t thei r hous e before , righ t afte r the y first moved in . Th e childre n wer e smalle r then . I carrie d over a platefu l o f something , th e woma n opene d th e door, Hello , hello , ne w neighbors , welcome . I com mented o n th e childre n righ t away , afte r all , I' d no ticed the m th e first. What a beautifu l daughter , I said . Wha t a hand some son . I'm no t married . N o children , myself . Right awa y th e woma n too k th e plat e ou t o f m y hands an d disappeare d int o anothe r room , bu t th e [136]
Romulus husband wa s pleased , h e huffe d an d puffe d an d smiled a lot , gaze d paternall y a t th e childre n wher e they wer e playin g o n th e rug , picke d m e ou t immedi ately a s a friend . H e wante d m e t o g o ou t bac k an d discuss th e bes t way s t o kee p th e law n green . I' m always obliging , o f course , I was al l se t t o follo w him , but no t withou t firs t gettin g close r t o th e children . I had a littl e piec e o f cand y hidde n i n m y palm , an d I slipped i t t o th e bo y a s I followed hi s father . That wa s ho w I began , tha t wa s th e firs t piec e of candy . • So I wasn' t surprise d whe n th e childre n stoo d a t m y hedge. Th e bo y wa s o n hi s hand s an d knees , a s usual , and no t afrai d a t all . He poke d hi s hea d righ t throug h the branche s an d stare d a t me , wrigglin g hi s nose . The gir l wa s behin d him , looking , comin g n o closer . That wa s a s clos e a s sh e woul d eve r come . • The husban d confide s i n m e sometimes . He'l l com e over t o th e hedg e wit h something , prunin g shear s maybe, i t alway s ha s t o be i n th e contex t o f yard wor k for him . The n h e says , M y wif e hate s ou r children , she think s m y so n i s strange , ca n yo u imagine , hi s own mother . [137]
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Then h e say s other things : Sh e think s something' s wrong, sh e demand s I d o somethin g abou t it , bu t what a m I supposed t o do , as fa r a s I' m concerne d th e boy i s fine, sh e want s t o tak e hi m somewher e bu t a s far a s I' m concerne d it' s a wast e o f time . Since it' s wha t h e wants , I giv e hi m comfortin g words: Yo u kno w ho w wome n are , it isn' t eas y t o sta y home wit h childre n al l day , tr y t o giv e he r som e understanding, al l childre n g o throug h thes e phases . And s o forth . I sa y thes e thing s smugly , a s i f I understan d them. • Since h e wa s unabl e t o liste n t o her , sh e too k he r so n to th e docto r withou t botherin g t o tel l he r husband . The docto r sa t th e bo y o n a meta l table , strippe d hi m down t o hi s underwear , looke d i n hi s ear s an d u p hi s nose, tappe d hi s back , listene d t o hi s heart , an d tol d her tha t he r so n wa s healthy . Yes doctor , sh e said , he' s healthy , bu t th e thin g is, doctor , m y bo y Eva n think s he' s a dog . H e won' t walk, doctor , o r talk , onl y crawl s an d barks . He won' t eat hi s dinne r unles s I se t i t o n th e floor , jus t lik e I would fo r a dog . His siste r teache s hi m trick s . . . The docto r lifte d Eva n dow n fro m th e examinin g table an d trie d t o mak e hi m stand , bu t Eva n col [138]
Romulus lapsed dow n ont o hi s hands , the n gritte d hi s teet h and backe d awa y fro m th e doctor , just lik e an animal . And s o th e docto r sen t Eva n t o hav e certai n tests . Electrodes wer e paste d o n hi s scalp . Eva n squirme d and howled ; hi s mothe r clutche d he r purse . Light s flashed o n an d of f i n Evan' s face . The woma n too k he r so n hom e t o wait . Sh e spen t the res t o f th e afternoo n washin g th e past e ou t o f hi s hair, s o tha t he r husban d woul d neve r know . • Otherwise h e wa s a goo d father . H e kep t th e law n trim, h e wa s goo d a t fixing thing s aroun d th e house . He like d hi s tim e t o himself, though . The y coul d b e i n a roo m togethe r an d ye t jus t th e sam e sh e woul d be alone . I t wa s th e wa y h e acted : pickin g u p th e newspaper, scuffin g hi s slipper s o n th e rug , no t meet ing he r eyes . Whe n h e wa s lik e tha t sh e fel t th e mos t alone o f all . Sh e woul d si t i n th e roo m wit h him , an d then whe n sh e couldn' t stan d i t anymor e she' d g o ou t into th e res t o f th e house . Al l summe r th e hous e wa s dark an d h u m i d wit h silence , fo r sh e kep t th e win dows shut , th e curtain s pulled . Sh e sai d i t wa s t o keep ou t th e sun . Sh e woul d wande r fro m on e dark ened roo m t o th e next , alway s knowin g wher e sh e would en d u p bu t pretendin g t o avoi d i t anyway , b y adjusting a pillo w o r straightenin g a n ashtray . Bu t [139]
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then sh e woul d b e i n th e hallwa y outsid e he r daugh ter's room , i n spit e o f herself he r ea r woul d b e presse d to th e smoot h whit e door , she' d hea r Eva n an d Kati e whispering together ; sometime s the y talke d loudly ; they laughe d often . She couldn' t understan d wha t the y said . Onl y Evan an d Kati e coul d understan d it , sh e kne w that , although sh e couldn' t tel l he r husband . Al l she under stood wa s th e laughter . • Look! H e sit s u p an d begs , wavin g hi s hand s i n th e air lik e littl e whit e paws . He' s quit e beautiful , th e black hair , th e aler t face . A t a wor d fro m m e h e flop s over ont o th e gras s an d lie s perfectl y still ; h e won' t even mov e whe n a spide r tiptoe s acros s hi s face . He'l l lie i n th e gras s lik e tha t al l day , evenin g wil l com e to bruis e th e sky , the n nigh t wit h cloud s o f moth s fluttering aroun d m y porc h light , stil l he'l l sta y righ t there, withou t moving . He'l l sta y unti l I cla p m y hands, an d the n h e jump s up , I rewar d hi m wit h candy an d w e laug h together , th e bo y an d I an d hi s sister, wh o stand s watchin g throug h th e ga p i n th e hedge. • I've notice d the y hav e thei r ow n secre t ways . Ther e are certai n day s whe n I don' t se e them , althoug h I [140]
Romulus stay outsid e fo r hours , waiting . I sa y t o myself : per haps they'r e i n th e hous e today ; bu t I kno w the y aren't; I look a t th e hous e an d se e thei r mothe r hidin g behind th e curtains , a t on e windo w an d the n another , and the n surel y a t othe r window s beyon d m y lin e o f vision. She' s lookin g fo r them , too . • It's a nic e neighborhood . Convenient , safe , wit h thos e typical suburba n houses , Cap e style , ranch , spli t level, al l painte d conservativ e colors . Ye t ther e ar e still plent y o f place s t o go , missin g slat s i n a fenc e creating gap s tha t lea d t o secre t places , filled wit h trees an d mos s an d squa t mushrooms . O r hole s i n hedges tha t lea d t o completel y differen t worlds . • He wen t t o hi s neighbor' s hous e an d said , I hav e a bad feeling , m y wif e i s behavin g strangely , sh e re fuses t o confid e i n me . What ca n I do ? For th e first tim e hi s neighbo r didn' t hav e muc h to say , onl y sa t i n a wing-backe d chai r an d smoked . Suddenly th e husban d realize d he' d neve r bee n insid e his neighbor' s hous e before . I n fac t he' d neve r bee n invited, bu t h e wasn' t th e typ e t o bac k dow n becaus e of that . Instea d h e walke d aroun d th e livin g roo m a little bit , lookin g a t things . There wer e frame d photo s [141]
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hanging o n th e walls , an d i n eac h on e h e sa w youn g versions o f hi s neighbor , smilin g an d posin g alway s with a blac k Germa n shepherd , holdin g u p a troph y or a ribbon . H e kne w i t couldn' t b e th e sam e do g i n every phot o bu t jus t th e sam e the y al l looke d alike , each do g identica l t o th e on e before . Well, sai d th e husband , draw n ou t o f hi s ow n thoughts fo r a minut e becaus e he' d neve r know n any thing abou t hi s neighbor' s pas t before , di d yo u rais e them yoursel f o r just train ? The neighbo r smile d a t that , h e seeme d pleased . Both, h e said , bu t i n th e en d i t becam e to o expensive , I ha d t o giv e i t u p . I love d i t whil e i t lasted . I coul d train m y dog s t o d o anything , anythin g a t all . Oh, that' s nice , sai d th e husband . A nic e hobb y for a m a n wh o doesn' t hav e a family . Indeed, sai d th e neighbor , an d smoke d a littl e more. The husban d wen t home , an d ther e wa s a feelin g of uneasines s i n hi m tha t didn' t fad e unti l h e lef t fo r work th e nex t morning . • I sa w the m disappea r onc e myself , throug h a ga p i n the bac k fence . Th e gir l wen t first, lookin g around , looking especiall y a t th e house . The n sh e turne d her self sideway s an d squeeze d throug h i n a plac e wher e [142]
Romulus some board s h a d falle n out . He r brother , withou t even botherin g t o loo k around , leape d int o th e gas h of green righ t o n he r heels . • She goe s fro m on e windo w t o another , upstair s an d downstairs. I se e th e curtain s move . The y par t slowl y and he r fac e appear s i n th e dar k slit . Sh e watche s the children , neve r sayin g anythin g t o them , neve r opening a windo w o r callin g out . Sh e ha s see n the m come t o m y hedge ; sh e look s i n th e directio n o f m y yard eve n whe n the y aren' t there . Sh e watche s m e i n the mornin g whe n I se t ou t th e sprinkler . Bu t i f I happen t o catc h he r eye , immediatel y th e curtai n falls, th e hous e goe s bac k t o stillness . • Each time , hi s siste r come s a littl e closer . I ca n se e the bead s o f swea t o n he r forehead , th e bit s o f gras s in he r hair . A s soo n a s I smil e an d gestur e sh e step s back, bu t I know sh e ca n hea r th e sprinkle r hissin g i n my yar d an d s o I say , Yo u loo k s o hot , Katie , wh y don't yo u com e an d coo l of f unde r th e sprinkler ? Sh e bites he r li p an d look s dow n a t th e ground , an d Eva n becomes jealous , h e yip s an d grab s th e le g o f m y trousers i n hi s teeth . I hol d th e piec e o f cand y u p high, dangl e i t betwee n m y fingers. [143]
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Evan yowl s an d roll s hi s eyes . For th e first time , I hold th e cand y highe r tha n h e ca n j u m p , an d h e beg s until I laugh . I laug h s o muc h tha t tear s ru n dow n my face . Whe n I suddenl y loo k bac k a t th e hedge , I se e Kati e retreating . Sh e runs , barefooted , i n th e direction o f home . • She notice d tha t the y didn' t alway s sta y i n th e yard . She woul d loo k ou t an d no t b e abl e t o find them . T o distract hersel f fro m i t sh e wandere d aroun d th e house, dustin g her e o r there , bu t inevitabl y sh e wa s drawn t o anothe r window , thinking , Mayb e they'r e on thi s sid e o f th e hous e afte r all . Yet whe n sh e ran g th e dinne r bel l the y woul d appear a t th e bac k door , laughing , covere d wit h dirt , with twig s an d leave s i n thei r hair . Each time , sh e fel t tha t the y mus t b e laughin g at her . • She watche d he r so n play . H e rolle d a re d bal l acros s the livin g roo m floor . H e la y o n hi s stomac h an d pushed th e bal l bac k an d forth , fro m on e h a n d t o the other . Sometimes, h e stoppe d th e bal l wit h hi s nose , then trie d t o gra b i t wit h hi s teeth . [144]
Romulus Put tha t down , Evan , sh e said . Down . Pu t i t down. Evan hel d th e bal l i n hi s mouth . H e looke d a t her , tilting hi s hea d t o on e side . Put i t down , Evan , sh e said . When h e tilte d hi s hea d lik e that , sh e fel t tha t h e was laughin g a t her . He r daughte r Kati e wa s sittin g in th e den , readin g a book . Katie smile d a t her . She hear d Eva n barking . H e ha d pushe d hi s bal l into th e hallway , chasin g i t o n hi s hand s an d knees , and Kati e smile d a t that . She lef t th e house . I t wa s hotte r outsid e tha n sh e realized. • Finally h e stand s u p . Stand s u p t o tak e th e cand y from m y hand ! H e doesn' t lik e i t much , hi s leg s wob ble, he roll s his eye s and grit s his teeth , bu t h e stands . His siste r Kati e isn' t b y th e hedg e anymore . Th e min ute h e stands , sh e run s away . I se e he r blac k hai r whip behin d he r a s sh e runs . • A neighborhoo d wher e childre n gro w u p normal . Normal, yes , that's it . No t eve n th e teet h ar e crooked . A neighborhood wher e a woma n feel s funny , walkin g [145]
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down th e street , i f he r childre n aren' t a s goo d a s everyone else's . Sh e feel s ver y funny , walkin g dow n the stree t i n th e ho t s u m m e r sun . • She h a d neve r bee n insid e he r neighbor' s house , bu t she fel t th e nee d t o g o somewhere , sinc e he r husban d refused t o listen . O f cours e sh e hadn' t gon e ou t wit h that intention , she' d jus t begu n t o walk , an d ther e was he r neighbo r ou t i n hi s fron t yard , clippin g th e little bushe s he' d plante d alon g th e house . H e wave d and smiled , an d althoug h she' d neve r like d him , re ally, sh e fel t th e nee d t o speak . Hello , ho w ar e you , hot enoug h fo r you ? Tha t kin d o f thing . S o whe n h e invited he r t o com e i n an d visi t fo r a minute , i t seemed lik e th e righ t thin g t o do . Sh e sa t i n hi s wing backed chair , h e brough t he r a glas s o f ice d tea , sh e looked aroun d a t th e picture s o n th e wall , the n sh e looked righ t a t him . You know , sh e said , m y so n i s sick , althoug h th e doctor tell s m e he' s healthy . H e constantl y act s lik e an animal . N o on e ca n tal k t o hi m excep t hi s sister . My husban d refuse s t o admi t anythin g i s wrong . She looke d dow n a t th e glas s i n he r hand . • She's go t tha t blue-blac k hai r jus t lik e he r daughter , and th e sam e uneas y look , lik e a bird , read y t o fl y of f [ 146 ]
Romulus at an y minute . Sh e glance s aroun d restlessly , her eye s never mee t mine . Finally I tel l her , I wa s abl e t o trai n m y dog s t o do anything . Anythin g a t all . She look s a t m e a t last , liftin g he r eye s fro m th e glass o f ice d tea . Anything, I tel l her . I coul d trai n the m t o d o any thing. • Evan rolle d o n hi s back , i n th e dandelions . Hi s siste r stood abov e him . Sh e hel d th e edge s o f he r skir t i n her hand s an d bega n t o twir l aroun d an d around . Right awa y Eva n j u m p ed u p an d circle d her , barking . He circle d close r an d closer , unti l finally the y bot h fell i n th e gras s i n a heap , laughing . Their mothe r droppe d th e curtai n an d turne d in ward, t o th e house . • He hate s t o stan d thi s way , hi s leg s shak e s o much , his hand s wav e helplessl y u p an d down , h e seem s embarrassed almost , an d relieve d whe n I finally re lent an d giv e hi m th e piec e o f candy . Hi s siste r call s to him , usin g word s I can' t understand . Bu t h e ig nores he r an d gaze s u p a t me , hi s eye s ful l o f af [147]
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fection, unti l sh e stomp s he r fee t an d rattle s th e hedge wit h anger . I hol d u p a secon d piec e o f cand y an d h e stand s again, I begin t o wal k away , alway s danglin g tha t bi t of candy . Eva n take s a ste p towar d m e an d hi s siste r cries out , som e angr y wor d tha t make s Eva n dro p down o n hi s hand s again . I shru g m y shoulder s a t him . The n I walk away . I go int o m y house . I shut th e door . Evan stay s i n th e bac k yard , starin g afte r me , until hi s mothe r ring s th e dinne r bell . • One da y I se e he r husban d i n th e street , walkin g pas t my house , s o I wav e t o hi m an d cal l hi s n a m e . H e hasn't com e t o se e m e fo r severa l days . I ask , Ho w i s it betwee n yo u an d you r wife , thing s mus t b e bette r since yo u haven' t neede d t o tal k lately . He give s m e a funn y look , a s i f h e doesn' t kno w what t o say , bu t finally h e realize s tha t h e mus t speak. Well , h e says , she' s quie t now , sh e doesn' t complain much , bu t sh e ha s thi s smu g loo k al l th e time, i t reall y make s m e nervous . I' m sur e she' s don e something, I just don' t kno w wha t i t migh t be . Whatever i t is , I assur e him , n o doub t i t wil l b e for th e best .
[148]
Romulus He nod s an d walk s of f ver y quickly , withou t say ing goodbye , heade d awa y fro m hi s home . • For th e first time , sh e ha d se t hi s plac e a t th e table . Katie an d he r husban d watched , withou t speaking . Evan sa t perfectl y still , perfectl y polite , whil e sh e hovered aroun d th e kitchen , filling glasses , arrangin g plates. The n sh e se t hi s foo d i n fron t o f him . Eva n stared a t hi s dis h an d aroun d a t hi s family . H e low ered hi s fac e int o th e food , an d bega n t o eat . Katie clappe d joyfully . Excuse me , sai d he r husband , an d lef t th e table . • When h e stand s h e i s lik e a do g traine d t o b e a boy . His step s ar e slow , disjointed , h e hold s hi s a r m s slightly raise d an d ben t a t th e wrists , hi s hea d lean s toward on e shoulder . I thro w hi m hi s piec e o f candy , and h e sit s dow n i n m y law n chair , wrigglin g a little , just th e wa y an y othe r bo y would . Remarkable! T o b e s o perfect , s o alert , s o intelli gent. Althoug h hi s siste r crie s ou t objection s throug h the hedge , I plac e variou s object s i n hi s hands : combs, silverware , shoelaces . When hi s mothe r ring s th e dinne r bel l h e walk s
[149]
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haltingly, partin g m y hedg e wit h hi s awkwar d hands . Katie wil l no t wai t fo r him . Whe n h e come s t o her , she run s away . • She opene d th e window . Eva n wa s i n th e bac k yard . He kicke d a bal l agains t th e sid e o f th e house . She didn' t se e Katie . Sh e wen t fro m on e windo w to th e next , bu t sh e didn' t se e Kati e anywhere . Sh e didn't notic e whe n Eva n stoppe d kickin g th e ball , and instea d bega n t o rol l i n th e grass . • He wil l d o anythin g a t all , fo r th e sak e o f th e cand y I hide i n m y palm . H e wil l li e i n th e gras s throug h nights an d day s withou t moving . H e wil l pus h to y trucks, se t tables , serv e glasse s o f water , ti e hi s ow n shoelaces, ti e mine . Katie wil l onl y watch , silently , fro m th e othe r side o f m y hedge . • He wa s disturbe d b y i t all , frankly , h e didn' t lik e it , although i t wa s tru e tha t Eva n acte d mor e lik e a bo y than a dog . H e wa s uneasy , becaus e o f th e smu g loo k his wif e had , an d th e smu g loo k hi s neighbo r had .
[150]
Romulus And the n on e nigh t hi s neighbo r cam e t o dinne r an d said, Yo u know , Evan' s quit e a brigh t boy , h e ca n d o anything, with th e righ t motivation , an d th e neighbo r clapped hi s hands , an d Eva n jumpe d u p fro m th e chair wher e he' d bee n sittin g an d filled al l th e glasse s on th e tabl e wit h water . I've ha d hi m workin g o n anothe r projec t too , sai d the neighbor , fo r you r amusement . H e clappe d hi s hands an d Eva n shuffle d acros s th e kitche n floor t o a beat pounde d ou t b y th e ti p o f hi s neighbor' s spoon . His wif e looke d smug , sh e clappe d an d laughed . She an d th e neighbo r laughe d together , an d the n th e neighbor li t a cigarett e an d said , Yo u mus t admit , Evan's bee n improvin g quit e a bi t lately . Yes, th e husban d admitte d it , Eva n ha d bee n act ing mor e lik e a bo y o f his age . His wif e an d hi s neighbo r laughe d more . He wa s s o disturbe d b y i t al l tha t h e at e i n si lence, an d the n wen t int o th e othe r room , t o rea d the newspaper . His wif e cam e int o th e roo m an d said , Hav e yo u seen th e children ? I can't find the m anywhere . She sai d sh e ha d gon e fro m windo w t o window , and hadn' t bee n abl e t o find them . No, h e said , I haven' t see n th e childre n sinc e dinner.
[151]
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Well, sh e said , wha t i f yo u wer e t o ge t up , fo r a change, an d g o out, fo r a change , an d look ? And s o he go t up , an d wen t outside . • It wa s a nic e neighborhood , i n tha t sense . Safe, conve nient, wit h plent y o f place s t o hide . A neighborhoo d designed fo r children , filled wit h place s t o hide . • They ha d gon e throug h th e ga p i n th e fence . H e fol lowed the m ou t int o th e s u m m e r dusk , carryin g a flashlight, callin g thei r names : Evan , Katie , Katie , Evan. H e followe d th e edge s o f th e yard , pokin g a t bushes, peerin g behin d trees , unti l h e sa w Evan' s shoes lyin g b y th e bac k fence . H e kne w ther e wa s a vacant lo t behin d th e fence , h e remembere d tha t a s a child h e ha d like d t o pla y i n vacan t lots , an d s o h e thought nothin g o f goin g ove r th e fenc e afte r them . He coul d alread y hea r thei r voices , h e onl y ha d t o step throug h som e tal l grass , an d par t som e branches, an d h e coul d se e them . Kati e sa t priml y o n the ground . Eva n la y o n th e gras s besid e her , hi s face smeare d wit h dirt , growlin g dee p i n hi s throat , chewing o n th e edg e o f he r dress . Sh e talke d t o he r brother softly , i n a languag e thei r fathe r coul d no t understand. [152]
Romulus He stoo d fo r a whil e behin d a tree . Whe n h e looked bac k towar d hi s hous e h e coul d se e tha t th e lights wer e on . H e kne w tha t hi s wif e wa s movin g from windo w t o window , roo m t o room , watching .
[153]
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uch t o ou r dismay , she' s move d i n righ t be neath us : Mother-in-Law , jinglin g lik e a dime beneat h ou r feet . Al l nigh t lon g w e ca n hea r he r through th e floorboards: jingle, jingle, jingle, —"that's Mother-in-Law," w e say , "unpackin g he r twelv e scar let suitcase s wit h thei r twelv e silve r buckles , her thir teen tin y hatboxe s wit h thei r clasp s o f preciou s metal." W e se e tha t she' s brough t he r aquariu m an d hyacinths i n pot s an d seventy-fiv e ball s o f yarn—al l the color s o f spring , enoug h t o kni t a Matiss e tha t would cove r u s thre e an d ou r apartment s an d th e stairwell i n betwee n the m an d al l o f ou r furnitur e and mayb e th e balcon y a s well . "It looks, " I tel l m y husband , "lik e sh e mean s t o stay." My husband' s broke n u p abou t it ; afte r all , she' s my Mother-in-Law , bu t she' s hi s mother ; ther e h e is , right i n th e middle , betwee n he r fearsom e knittin g [157]
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needles an d m y monumental , yawnin g disconten t (I've bee n yawnin g lik e a tige r eve r sinc e sh e move d in—can't hel p it , can' t hel p tha t ree k o f bloo d an d revenge aroun d m y molars , it' s Mother-in-La w afte r all, downstairs , righ t beneat h me , in the same building, an d al l tha t inferna l jingling , al l nigh t long . I never slee p anymore) . My husban d i s a goo d son . "Mother' s lookin g rather thin, " h e says , wit h a worrie d face , an d I hav e to admi t it' s true ; Mother-in-La w looke d gaun t t o m e on th e mornin g tha t sh e dragge d thos e suitcase s u p the stairs—haggard . "Th e rune s o f deat h aroun d he r eyes," I thought , peerin g dow n a t he r fro m th e land ing a s sh e haule d thos e jinglin g suitcases , on e afte r the other , determine d a s a n ant . (Bu t I wouldn' t hel p Mother-in-Law; no , I' m pretendin g I can' t se e her , I'm blin d t o her , a s fa r a s sh e ca n tel l I don' t kno w that sh e exists . " I don' t wan t yo u kid s t o pa y an y attention t o me, " sh e ha d said , ove r th e telephone , before sh e came ; a s fa r a s sh e knows , I' m takin g he r at he r word. ) "I thin k w e shoul d invit e Mothe r u p fo r dinner, " my husban d says . I fee l sorr y fo r m y husband . Al l da y lon g h e work s at a jo b h e doesn' t like . H e wear s a necktie , phone s ring al l aroun d him , editor s dar t i n an d ou t wit h fur y in thei r face s an d deat h i n thei r eyes , lunc h i s a [158]
Mother-in-Law grilled chees e sandwic h i n a diner—an d no w loo k what he' s got , a wif e wit h a carnivorou s smil e an d there, downstairs , righ t ther e beneat h hi s feet—hi s mother. I giv e i n fo r othe r reasons , a s well . After all , I lik e our life . Ever y mornin g whe n I ris e (late , an d wit h the shadow s o f jinglin g beneat h m y eyes) , I ste p ou t onto th e balcon y wit h a glas s i n m y hand , an d fee l like I' m soarin g amon g th e treetops . I fee l lik e ou r balcony i s a mes a i n a jungle , an d her e I am , ey e t o eye wit h th e butterflies , surrounde d b y nothin g bu t the gree n whisperin g o f th e trees . I ca n si t fo r hours , with a glas s i n m y hand , an d imagin e tha t I' m al l alone, listenin g t o birdson g i n th e jungle . I' d bitterl y hate t o giv e i t al l up , jus t becaus e o f m y Mother in-Law. So I invite her . She come s t o dinne r i n a scarle t dress , carryin g a tissue t o wip e he r eye . I notic e fo r th e first tim e tha t Mother-in-Law ha s a cataract . He r ey e ha s grow n cloudy, opaque ; i t weep s agains t he r volitio n (sh e wept a t ou r wedding , too , bu t tha t wa s a differen t matter; he r eye s wer e clea r then , ver y clear) . Sh e brings a bottl e o f Chianti , som e slipper s she' s knitte d in purpl e an d blue , an d a n albu m filled wit h photo s of las t summer' s tri p t o Italy . Sh e say s sh e hate d Venice: ther e wa s garbag e floating i n th e canals . [159]
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"Flies everywhere! " sh e exclaims , sniffin g an d weeping a s i f she coul d smel l i t still . Right then , almos t agains t m y will , I begin t o fee l sorry fo r Mother-in-Law . I think , "Mother-in-La w i s lonely." I think , "Mother-in-La w i s alone. " I think , "Mother-in-Law ha s com e her e becaus e sh e i s lonel y and alone. " I propose a toas t t o her health , an d w e si p Chiant i on th e balcony , watchin g moth s tha t flutter lik e pal e hands aroun d th e floodlights. Cricket s ar e chirping ; and ver y fa r away , beyon d th e trees , we ca n hea r car s pass o n th e motorway . Mother-in-La w look s a t m y husband an d give s a gentl e sigh . "It woul d b e s o nic e t o b e a youn g mothe r again, " she says . Sh e smiles , an d th e opaqu e ey e glitter s cra zily i n th e di m light . "Mother-in-Law i s pathetic, " I think , "sad . Mother-in-Law i s deservin g o f pity. " M y attitud e to ward Mother-in-La w changes . Sh e need s a friend ; I will b e tha t friend . I imagin e u s together , sittin g o n the balcon y (sipping , sipping) , binocular s claspe d tight t o ou r eyes , tryin g t o identif y specie s o f jungl e birds; I imagine u s i n th e departmen t store , tryin g o n floral swimsuit s togethe r (th e imag e i s s o vivi d I ca n actually smell the latex!)) I imagin e lon g girlis h chat s late int o th e night . Sh e wil l tel l m e wha t i t wa s lik e to giv e birt h t o m y husband : ho w i t hur t her , tor e [160]
Mother-in-Law her, bu t ho w i t wa s wort h i t afte r all . Sh e wil l tel l m e how pungen t i t was , hi s firs t shit . Ho w happ y the y were abou t it : "W e though t ther e wa s somethin g wrong! H e didn' t shi t fo r days! " Bu t i t opene d th e floodgate: al l thos e diapers ! Sh e wil l tel l m e hi s first words. Throug h th e memor y o f Mother-in-Law , I wil l watch m y husban d gro w u p again . Everything's grow n di m wit h lov e an d Chianti ; I'm longin g t o hu g Mother-in-Law , an d s o I do . I n surprise sh e overturn s he r glas s o f win e ont o m y hus band's shirt . W e al l j u m p up , there' s a fluste r o f drunken oh nos an d I'm sorrys an d silly mes an d my fault entirelys, th e glowin g whit e moth s tha t hav e been restin g secretl y o n ou r leg s flutter towar d heaven, someon e drop s a cushio n ont o th e carpet , someone els e say s / think wed better go to bed now. We stumbl e bac k int o th e apartment , leanin g o n eac h other's shoulders , an d sa y goodnigh t i n a spiri t o f fond goo d fellowship ; Mother-in-La w pluck s he r photo albu m of f th e couc h an d stumble s dow n th e stairs, lookin g frai l an d innocen t i n th e florescent glow o f th e landin g lights . Sh e wave s a t m e wit h th e crumpled, tear-staine d tissu e she' s bee n clutchin g al l night; I lea n ove r th e landing , watchin g a s sh e dab s at he r milk y eye , the n disappear s int o th e apartmen t beneath ours . My husban d i s i n th e bathroom , tryin g t o rins e [161]
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the scarle t stai n of f th e sleev e o f hi s ne w whit e shirt . His fac e i s anguished , lik e a littl e boy's . "It' s ruined! " he says . "She ruine d it ! That's jus t lik e m y mother! " The nap e o f hi s nec k look s s o tende r a s h e lean s over th e sink , rinsin g an d rinsin g th e staine d shir t under th e ho t tap , the n th e cold , the n th e ho t again . He doesn' t sa y anything , bu t he' s please d tha t I hugged hi s mother ; I' m sur e o f it . In th e morning , everythin g look s new . I g o down stairs t o gree t m y Mother-in-Law , an d I find he r knit ting. She' s sittin g o n a sette e i n th e livin g room , sur rounded b y plants—no t jus t th e familia r hyacinths , but othe r plant s a s well : hug e violet s wit h great , thick gree n stem s an d face s lik e hungr y stars , luxuri ant petunia s line d wit h re d an d black , orchid s tha t crouch lik e leopard s alon g th e walls . Whateve r she' s knitting i s pearl y grey ; i t spill s of f he r la p an d disap pears int o th e lus h gree n underbrush . I'm curious , bu t I don' t ask ; instead , I loo k around fo r a plac e t o se t dow n th e tra y I'v e brough t her (Mother-in-La w look s s o thin ; I'v e brough t he r toast wit h egg s fo r breakfast) . Bu t everythin g i s cov ered wit h green , o r wit h pearl y grey ; there' s n o roo m for breakfast . "Oh, jus t se t i t dow n anywhere! " Mother-in-La w laughs, tinklin g lik e a win d chime . "Yes , yes , righ t there, o n th e floor , that' s jus t fine!" [162]
Mother-in-Law I se t th e toas t an d egg s dow n amon g th e stem s and branches . Mother-in-La w wipe s he r weep y eye . "It's suc h a dreadfu l habi t I have, " sh e says , apol ogetically, "thi s knitting . Onc e I pick i t up , I just can' t put i t down . I starte d whe n I wa s expectin g John, " she says . "Yes , that' s whe n I started . No w I' m doin g it again. " Sh e laugh s a little ; it' s a self-deprecatin g laugh, I think . I invit e Mother-in-La w t o com e upstair s fo r lunch. "W e ca n watc h th e birds, " I say , tappin g m y binoculars ( I wea r the m al l th e time , fro m th e mo ment I ge t u p i n th e mornin g unti l I g o t o slee p a t night. Onc e I fel l aslee p wit h th e binocular s on ; the y weighed o n m y ches t lik e death) . "We ca n drin k som e wine." Mother-in-Law sit s o n he r settee , knitting . "Oh , why, than k you , dear, " sh e says , "bu t I don' t wan t t o disrupt you r day . Jus t forge t I' m here , really. " Sh e smiles serenely , surrounde d b y gree n an d grey , an d I think: she's the Madonna of the bushes. Her refusa l make s m e angry ; I can' t den y it . I drop th e binocular s ont o m y ches t wit h a thud . "Fine," I say . "That' s al l right , Mother . Yo u can' t sa y I didn' t try. " I turn o n m y heel ; m y bac k i s as stif f an d as brittl e a s a wan d o f coral . I pee k ove r m y shoulde r (a subtle peek , to o subtl e fo r Mother-in-La w t o notice ) and I se e tha t she' s stil l knitting , knitting , knitting ; [163]
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she doesn' t eve n loo k u p a t me . Toas t an d egg s ar e turning col d a t he r feet . I shu t th e doo r wit h a resoundin g slam! Upstairs, I mak e mysel f a drink . All da y I wai t fo r Mother-in-La w t o call , t o apolo gize, to be g m y pardon . I mix on e drin k afte r another ; I se e Amazonia n butterflie s flutterin g aroun d m y bal cony; a quetza l i s roostin g i n th e pin e tre e b y m y bedroom window . Finally , a t seven , whe n I'v e give n up hope , th e telephon e rings ; i t i s Mother-in-Law . "Is Joh n there? " sh e asks , sweetly . I hea r a fain t crumpling nois e an d kno w i t mus t b e th e soun d o f a white tissu e wipin g a milk y whit e eye . "It's you r mother!" I snarl , an d tos s m y husban d the phone . They onl y tal k fo r a moment ; I don' t hea r m y n a m e . I' m a t th e kitche n table , identifyin g seashells . "It's Zonaria annettae," I say . "I'll b e righ t back, " say s m y husband , "m y mothe r wants me. " An d jus t lik e that , h e disappear s dow n the stairs . I wait , drinkin g an d snarling , snarlin g an d drink ing, holdin g Merita peloronta u p t o th e ligh t (th e bet ter t o se e th e blood y spo t o n it s uppe r lip) . I imagin e my husban d downstairs , amon g thos e plants , talkin g to hi s mother : talkin g abou t me! "You neve r shoul d hav e marrie d her , John, " [164]
Mother-in-Law Mother-in-Law migh t b e saying , twinin g he r foo t i n a vine. " I told yo u once , I'm tellin g yo u again. " "Yes, Mother, " Joh n says , sittin g a t hi s mother' s knee, "you'r e right . She' s a beast. " (I'm a hyena strolling the African plains; I'm sticking my big mangy head up over golden waves of tundra grass, I'm snuffing the air, because there, right there, is a meal under a bush: it's Mother-in-Law, wearing a pink housedress yanked up to show a little bit of yellowed bloomer, sagging stockings and grey orthopedic shoes, unlaced; she's rolled up in grey skeins of knitting, struggling to get free, bouncing her knitting needles helplessly—she's tied herself up in knots. I advance, grinning, clutching a martini in my paw, wondering: should I eat her? Should I eat my Mother-in-Law? I imagine what it would be like to take my Mother-in-Law apart, piece by piece; meaty enough in the thighs, sure, but what about those scrawny arms? Those arthritic shoulders? That wrinkled belly? The unmentionable breasts? What about that milky white eye? I imagine myself up to my chin in bloody sinews, laughing a hyena laugh up and down the plains . . .) I ad d mor e orang e juic e t o m y vodka , an d the n my husban d come s in ; he' s dresse d lik e a puppet , i n a gre y kni t sui t wit h a re d lac e colla r an d littl e mother-of-pearl buttons . H e sit s o n th e couch , cra dling hi s hea d i n hi s hands . [165]
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His word s ar e brief , bu t eloquent . "She' s tryin g t o suck m e back/ ' h e says . "Back int o th e w o m b / ' I can' t hel p it , n o I can' t sto p myself ; I' m laugh ing, laughin g a bi g hyen a laug h tha t bound s acros s the balcony , pas t Mother-in-Law' s ope n windows , o n and ou t int o th e night ; i t join s th e car s rushin g u p and dow n th e motorway , tuck s itsel f unde r thei r ax les, speed s of f fo r point s unknown . "You're crazy, " I say . I straighte n hi s lac e colla r on m y wa y t o bed .
Mother-in-Law discover s a geniu s fo r knitting . I f I put m y ea r t o th e floo r (restin g m y ho t chee k agains t the cool , smoot h floorboards ) I ca n hea r th e clic k o f her knittin g needles . Likewise , i f I stan d jus t outsid e her door—delicately , poise d wit h car e o n m y toe s s o that ther e i s no sound , n o revealing creak— I ca n hea r the clicking , hear Mother-in-La w talkin g softl y t o her self; I ca n eve n hea r th e sof t slithe r o f yarn acros s he r scarlet lap . I f I happen , jus t b y chance , t o pas s out side Mother-in-Law' s windo w (pursuing , perhaps , a further glimps e o f th e elusiv e quetzal) , I ca n se e he r inside, sittin g i n he r chai r wit h a cu p o f te a b y he r elbow, concentratin g o n he r knitting . Skein s o f blu e emerge fro m he r needles , shape d int o sleeve s an d trouser cuffs , necktie s an d littl e hats . I n th e evenin g [166]
Mother-in-Law she come s silentl y t o th e doo r an d hand s m e a pack age (alway s wrappe d i n innocent , crinklin g brow n paper); sh e smile s absentmindedl y an d turn s away . There ar e n o word s betwee n us ; n o apolog y fro m her , nor, a s fa r a s I ca n tell , an y acknowledgmen t o f m y anger (whic h i s justified : b y he r crue l refusa l o f m y friendship, b y he r indifferenc e t o th e quetza l outsid e our m u t u a l windows , b y he r failur e t o kni t anythin g for m e — n o t h i n g fo r m e i n th e packages , no t eve n a knit bathin g suit , no t a scarf , no t a glove , no t a sock , nothing). Th e package s contai n present s fo r m y hus band. Sh e ha s kni t entir e busines s suit s i n swee t shades o f pal e blue ; sh e provide s everything , eve n a little kni t hank y i n th e breas t pocke t o f eac h jacket . My husban d complains , bu t ever y da y h e leave s th e apartment i n th e lates t suit . "The othe r guy s mak e fu n o f me, " h e says , griml y twisting a finger betwee n hi s nec k an d th e colla r o f Mother-in-Law's lates t kni t shirt . Fo r it' s a fac t tha t Mother-in-Law ha s n o sens e o f proportion : th e suit s never fit. Th e trouser s ar e to o short , th e sleeve s han g just pas t th e elbows , th e collar s ar e to o narro w (luck ily, the y ca n b e stretched ; b y insertin g ou r fingers o r even, i f necessary , a n entir e hand , w e ca n mak e th e collars wider) , seams an d button s ar e constantl y pop ping, i n shor t m y husban d make s a spectacl e o f him self ever y day , an d al l t o pleas e hi s mother . Wors t o f [167]
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all ar e th e funn y littl e hats : mostl y berets , bu t als o some funny , free-for m topper s wit h doil y fringe s o r odd, braide d tassels . I n th e evenin g m y husban d con fides tha t h e doesn' t wea r th e hats : ou t th e door , pas t his mother' s windows , sure , jus t t o pleas e her , bu t once aroun d th e corner , h e take s of f th e ha t an d shoves i t somewhere , unde r a hedge , int o a mailbox , even sometime s (whe n it' s especiall y offensive , th e hat) int o a tras h can . "You don' t hav e t o wea r th e stuff , yo u know, " I say, al l i n a spiri t o f fun—becaus e I kno w m y hus band doesn' t fee l tha t way ; o n th e contrary , h e feel s he doe s hav e t o wea r it . It's hi s dut y t o wea r wha t hi s mother knits . "Her feeling s wil l ge t hurt, " h e says . Ever sinc e hi s fathe r died , m y husband' s bee n this wa y abou t hi s mother : oversolicitous , I' d cal l it . I d o cal l it . "You'r e oversolicitous, " I say , wipin g my tongu e aroun d m y bright , point y teeth . "You're jus t jealous, " he says . Of course , he' s right : bu t m y jealous y ha s s o many point s an d corners , s o man y twistin g avenues , so man y intertwinin g protuberance s tha t I' m n o longer sur e o f who m I' m jealous , o r why , o r whe n th e jealousy started . "Well," I m u t t er miserably , pinnin g a ne w sampl e
[168]
Mother-in-Law into m y displa y case , "sh e coul d mak e somethin g fo r me, just once. " We glar e a t eac h othe r acros s th e lates t baby-blu e knit jumper .
(I suppose things between us have never been what I'd call harmonious, but it was always agreeable; in spite of all the rough spots, my snarls and his yawns, our mutual suspiciousness, the occasional disagreement over rice and macaroni, there were still those moments of coming together: quiet purple dawns heralded by the cry of the quetzal, pleasant meetings of the eye and the hand between cool bedsheets and in other places as well. Now there is only jealousy, guarded eyes, the hostile wordless bumping of knees, hands that possess and hands that long to possess the manna, those magical strands purling off Mother-in-Law's rose-red lap. I disguise my avarice by collecting: butterflies, seashells, gemstones, pressed flowers, teeth spurned and abandoned. By the light of the lamp, he silently reads the newspaper.)
One day , I discove r tha t Mother-in-La w ha s a socia l life. I com e dow n th e stair s an d find a ben t an d
[169]
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bearded m a n clutchin g a bouque t o f posie s jus t out side Mother-in-Law' s door ; th e forefinge r o f hi s righ t h a n d i s poised jus t abov e th e doorbell—h e ha s eithe r rung i t o r wil l rin g it , I think , smilesnarlin g a s I pass . He nod s an d wink s an d eye s th e binocular s tha t li e on m y chest . "Selling something , pal? " I ask—no t ou t o f rude ness, o f course , bu t ou t o f pur e curiosity , combine d with a certai n involuntar y concer n fo r Mother-in Law; afte r all , she' s al l alone , alon e an d lonel y an d vulnerable, ther e amon g he r plant s an d he r knitting . And what' s more , th e gen t look s a bi t lik e a salesman , in a checke d sui t gon e shin y a t th e elbow s an d a t th e knees, an d wit h a battere d leathe r valis e reclinin g a t his feet , jus t outsid e Mother-in-Law' s doorway . H e could hav e anythin g i n tha t valise , I think , picturin g horrors bot h traditiona l an d untraditiona l (liquor , dice, girli e magazines , somebody' s stole n prosthetics , maybe eve n a glas s ey e o r a staine d dec k o f Go Fish). The gen t i s jus t beginnin g t o repl y (hi s ope n ja w reveals a whitis h tongu e an d a pepperin g o f isolate d teeth) whe n Mother-in-La w appear s a t th e door . She' s smiling, unti l sh e see s me ; the n th e smil e stop s up , maybe eve n turn s int o a pucker . "Is everything oka y here , Mother?" I ask, a s solici tously a s I can, perhap s wit h eve n a trac e o f oversolic itousness (I' m thinkin g o f nic e ne w kni t sweater s an d [170]
Mother-in-Law skirts, mayb e eve n girlis h kne e sock s embroidere d with dancin g reindeer) . "Just fine, dear, " Mother-in-La w says . Th e yel lowing ol d gen t an d hi s tattere d valis e ste p insid e with a wink , an d th e doo r slam s shu t i n m y face . I have barel y enoug h tim e t o glimps e th e green , for ested interio r o f Mother-in-Law' s livin g room . Onl y later, whe n I'v e successfull y catalogue d thre e ibi s an d a hummingbird , d o I realiz e tha t Mother-in-La w wa s wearing a pin k neglige e tha t reveale d (o h immod esty!) a shado w o f cleavage , he r wrinkle d kneecaps , and a bi t o f a belly . "Your mother' s gettin g fat, " I tel l m y husband . He's anguishe d a t th e ide a tha t hi s mothe r migh t b e dating, can' t believ e i t i n fact ; eve r sinc e I tol d him , he's bee n spinnin g hi s littl e re d to p aroun d th e dinin g room floor , makin g wager s wit h himself : if it lands point up, she's dating; if it lands point down, she's not. "Look o n th e brigh t side, " I say , "mayb e thi s fella's takin g he r ou t t o dinner . A nice fatt y roun d o f pork chops , potatoe s bake d an d fried , mayb e eve n the occasiona l lobster . I t wa s you, " I add , "wh o wa s worried abou t he r weight. " But Joh n won' t b e consoled ; al l weeken d w e lan guish i n a n uneas y malaise . A s I wande r fro m roo m to roo m (measurin g a ston e here , a seashel l there , reposing a stuffe d bir d o n a shelf , peerin g dow n wit h [171]
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my binocular s a t a n especiall y tantalizin g blossom ) I can hea r th e littl e re d to p scrollin g acros s th e floor. At night , althoug h w e tr y no t t o listen , w e can' t hel p but hea r Mother-in-La w jinglin g lik e a dim e beneat h our feet—an d ever y no w an d the n th e mute d soun d of laughter . On Sunda y mornin g w e happe n t o ru n int o he r i n the hallway ; she' s wearin g a re d culott e unde r a knit ted mes h robe , an d th e littl e yello w m a n wit h he r ha s exchanged hi s checke d sui t fo r spotte d swi m trunks , his tattere d valis e fo r a red-yellow-green-and-whit e striped beac h ball . "We're of f t o th e shore! " Mother-in-La w chirps ; her bea u grin s jus t enoug h t o revea l hi s sparsel y toothed botto m gum . "Well isn' t tha t lovely, " I say ; bu t Joh n turn s hi s face awa y withou t sayin g a word . A petulant silenc e settles i n th e hallwa y a s w e al l tr y t o star e a t eac h other, withou t appearin g t o look . The stillnes s seem s t o remin d Mother-in-La w o f something; i n a sna p sh e unlock s he r doo r an d dart s inside. Sh e emerge s wit h on e o f he r familia r parcels , wrapped i n ol d newspape r thi s tim e an d tie d wit h a dirty string . "John, honey , thi s i s fo r you, " sh e coos . " I hop e it fits!" John take s th e packag e bu t stil l avert s hi s eyes . [172]
Mother-in-Law The trajector y o f hi s glanc e seem s t o tak e i n nothin g but th e stairwell , th e fluorescen t light , an d th e wilt ing potte d plan t b y th e mailboxes . "Well, g'bye! " Mother-in-La w sing s out ; sh e take s her bea u b y th e elbow , an d wit h a rustl e o f plasti c and wrinkle d skin , the y disappea r ou t th e door . "I hate tha t man, " Joh n says , pouting an d tuggin g at th e strin g o n hi s package . "You!" I snap . "Al l yo u d o i s complain . A t leas t you go t a present! " He hug s th e packag e agains t hi s stomac h a s i f h e thinks I migh t tak e i t fro m him ; an d i n fact , tha t i s just wha t I lon g t o do . Bu t instea d I cur l m y claw s against m y palms , an d w e g o back upstair s (forgetting completely our reasons for coming down in the first place—that is the effect Mother-in-Law has on us —at the sight of her all of our plans are forgotten, suspended; awaiting, in some strange way, permission that she never seems to give). W e la y th e packag e carefull y o n the kitche n table , an d spen d a grea t dea l o f tim e selecting th e righ t knif e t o sli t th e string . Th e knif e must no t b e to o large ; to o larg e seem s to o threaten ing, to o hostile , a s i f i t wer e Mother-in-La w hersel f we'd b e slicing . The n agai n to o smal l seem s disre spectful, a s i f th e cor d holdin g th e packag e shu t wer e unworthy o f seriou s cutting . A t las t I selec t a pai r o f cooking shear s an d seve r th e string . Insid e th e pack [173]
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age, m y husban d finds a whit e kni t shir t an d a littl e pair o f blue kni t swi m trunks . He hold s the m u p doubtfully . "Shall I tr y the m on? " "Sure," I say , "i f yo u ca n ge t a le g int o them. " For th e swi m trunk s loo k absurdl y small ; an d th e white shir t likewise . It i s long sleeved , wit h littl e pin k ruffles a t th e cuffs . Pouting, Joh n disappear s int o th e bedroo m t o tr y on th e newes t gifts . I wai t i n th e kitchen . I mak e i t my busines s t o fol d u p th e discarde d news-wrap ; I fold i t int o bi g squares , the n smalle r squares , the n smaller squares , the n smalle r squares , unti l I ca n almost fit i t unde r m y fingernail. John emerge s wearin g th e littl e blu e swi m trunks. "They fit!" I say, amazed . "Just watc h this, " Joh n says . H e duck s bac k int o the bedroom , an d come s ou t dresse d t o th e nine s i n his ne w whit e kni t shirt . "I t fits too, " he says . We stan d fo r a momen t i n dumbfounde d silence ; how, I wonder , coul d th e swimsui t loo k s o smal l an d still fit? An d th e s h i r t — w h a t abou t that ? Th e sleeve s looked short , bu t no w th e pin k cuf f ruffle s han g jus t where they'r e suppose d to , straigh t fro m m y hus band's wris t t o th e firs t knuckl e o f his middl e finger. "There's n o denyin g it, " I say . "Lov e ha s don e [174]
Mother-in-Law your mothe r good . I n th e sense/ ' I ad d hastily , no t wanting t o offend , "tha t sh e seem s t o b e measurin g much better. " "Yeah," Joh n says , givin g a littl e snor t o f laugh ter, "o r mayb e I' m shrinking. " We bot h laug h a t that ; the n I pou r u s tw o vodka s and w e speculat e o n th e meanin g o f th e lates t gift . John think s tha t th e swi m trunk s ar e a goo d sign ; maybe th e nex t tim e hi s mothe r goe s t o th e beach , she'll invit e u s t o join her . I' m les s certain . "Maybe," I suggest , "thi s i s he r wa y o f tellin g u s to g o t o th e beac h ourselves . Sor t o f like , I ' v e don e my part , no w yo u kid s d o th e rest. ' " After severa l mor e vodkas , Joh n realize s tha t thi s may b e true . W e g o outside , han d i n hand , t o loo k fo r the quetza l amon g th e branche s o f nearby evergreens . In th e morning , h e i s prove d right : Mother-in Law ha s slippe d a not e unde r ou r door . "Goin g t o th e shore wit h Henr y tomorrow, " th e not e reads . "Lov e to hav e yo u joi n us . 8 A.M . sharp!" Th e not e i s scrawled o n w h a t look s lik e a torn-of f corne r o f news print; there' s a greynes s t o it , an d i n on e corner , something tha t look s lik e th e edg e o f a n underwea r advertisement. Nonetheless , he r handwritin g i s dee p blue, compelling , an d perhaps , w e think , slightl y per fumed. Underneat h th e crease s o f th e underpant s a d she's writte n a shak y p.s . "Wear you r ne w trunks! " [175]
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It's eas y t o imagin e Mother-in-La w sayin g this : her voice , w e know , woul d b e a s clea r a s a quetzal' s mating cr y a t morning . Ther e i s n o questio n tha t w e will go ; tha t w e mus t go ; th e not e leave s n o roo m fo r doubt. " 8 A.M . sharp! " The not e give s ris e t o a flurry o f arrangements . My husban d mus t tak e th e da y of f fro m work . Ther e are towel s t o b e folded , a coole r t o b e packed , lotion s to b e line d up , sniffed , an d eithe r tosse d asid e o r packed amon g ou r othe r beac h paraphernalia : sev eral book s (Seashells of the Northern Shores fo r me ; fo r John a n ol d favorite , The Boy's Own Book of Detection, alon g wit h hi s well-wor n Principles of Editorial Accounting); sunglasses ; deck s o f cards ; pape r an d pens; an d las t bu t no t least , a plasti c bucke t decor ated wit h a serie s o f images , whit e o n red , of , i n thi s order: a seashel l (probabl y o f th e famil y Melongenidae, o r commo n whelk) , a starfish , a beac h ball , a seagull, an d a fish. All da y w e hav e n o tim e fo r th e cr y o f th e quetzal , the touchin g o f hands , o r th e consideratio n o f prob lems i n th e classificatio n o f th e hear t cockle . We pac k our things , si p ou r wine , an d anxiousl y contemplat e the mornin g t o come . I feel a familiar , ancien t antici pation; lik e a child , I imagin e tha t th e softnes s o f th e bed sheet s unde r m y bar e toe s mimic s th e softnes s o f the sand . Fo r Joh n th e anticipatio n i s different ; i t [176]
Mother-in-Law sounds lik e th e hollo w thu d o f a heliu m balloo n bouncing agains t a whit e ceiling . First thin g i n th e morning , we'r e waitin g outsid e Mother-in-Law's door , eagerl y clutchin g ou r beac h bags. Fo r a n hou r w e si t o n th e stairs , yawnin g an d rubbing ou r eyes ; then , finally, th e doo r opens , an d Mother-in-Law come s out , cla d i n a shee r pin k nightie an d fluffy slippers . (Her hair sticks out in all directions, it's plain she's just gotten out of bed, but just the same I can't help but notice how good Mother-inLaw is looking —at first it seems undefinable, a sort of glow ["Mother-in-Law is in love," I think], but then the impression solidifies; I realize that she's no longer wiping at her filmy eye, that in fact the eye is no longer filmy. Both of Mother-in-Law's eyes are bright clear blue, and she's gaining weight —so much weight that I'd even, if pressed, say she was getting fat. But it's not an unhealthy, paunchy, saggy, old woman's fatness; it's a healthy fatness, a robustness, a fatness that is, if anything, redolent of life.) She blink s a t u s i n surprise . "Wha t ar e yo u kid s up to? " she wonders . John look s away , injured ; s o i t i s u p t o m e t o say it : "The beach . You r note . Tha t wa s today , wasn' t it, Mother? " Mother-in-Law clutche s a salmon-colore d han d t o [177]
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her mouth . "O h dear ! I' m s o embarrassed! Yo u know , I'd completel y forgotten ! Tha t happen s a lo t a t th e stage I' m at , yo u know! " Sh e wink s a t me , an d fo r a moment he r h a n d rest s o n he r protrudin g belly . The n she turn s fro m th e door . "Henry! " sh e bellows . "Ou t of bed , ol d man ! W e promise d thes e kid s a tri p t o th e shore, an d they'r e goin g t o ge t it , b y goodness! " We hea r Henry' s sleep y groans , the n th e flus h o f running water ; w e catc h a glimps e o f th e gree n inte rior; the n Mother-in-La w pushe s shu t th e door . Fo r a last moment , he r wide , flushed fac e peer s aroun d th e corner a t us . "We'll b e wit h yo u i n a jiffy!" sh e says . Then th e doo r shuts , an d we'r e lef t standin g i n the stairwell . Another hou r passes . We hea r sound s behin d Mother-in-Law' s door : laughter, clatterin g forks , slammin g doors , furnitur e scraping acros s th e floor, th e blar e o f th e television . John sit s o n th e stairs , fingering hi s Principles of Editorial Accounting. There' s a bangin g soun d behin d th e door, a s i f someone i s hammering . "I thin k w e shoul d knock, " Joh n says . I disagree . "They migh t hav e forgotte n u s again. " "Well," I say , slowly , deliberately , calculatedly , "then, th e hel l wit h them! " [178]
Mother-in-Law My husband' s fac e turn s brigh t crimson . "That' s my mother you'r e talkin g about! " H e raise s u p hi s threatening Principles of Editorial Accounting; I reac h defensively fo r Seashells of the Northern Shores; I' m about t o mak e th e preemptiv e strik e whe n Mother in-Law an d he r bea u emerge , steppin g smartl y i n their beachwear . "Children!" Mother-in-La w scolds . "Wha t ar e yo u doing? Pu t thos e book s down ! Now , c'mon , let' s go! " We sheepishl y stas h ou r book s bac k i n ou r beac h bags, an d tro t ou t int o th e searin g parkin g lo t behin d Mother-in-Law (he r mes h kni t beac h rob e i s tie d around he r protrudin g bell y wit h a wid e re d sas h that flie s ou t behin d he r i n th e breeze , ticklin g ou r noses) an d Henry . Althoug h w e clim b int o John' s car , Henry i s behin d th e wheel . H e wear s a broad brimmed Panam a ha t tha t hide s hi s face ; fro m th e back, wher e w e sit , al l w e ca n se e i s th e cigarett e tha t dangles coyl y fro m hi s saggin g lips , an d th e hair y corner o f hi s righ t ear . Mother-in-La w shove s a cooler, th e beac h ball , a smal l suitcase , fou r blankets , an umbrella , fou r foldin g beac h chairs , an d a fabri c bag (stuffe d wit h smooth , clackin g stuf f tha t feel s lik e clams) i n th e bac k wit h us . "Makeup!" sh e explains , gaily , hoppin g int o th e front sea t wit h Henry . We driv e t o th e shore . I n th e fron t seat , Mother [179]
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in-Law an d Henr y begi n a roun d o f song . I si t wit h one foo t proppe d u p o n th e cooler , th e othe r tucke d beneath me . John' s hea d thud s agains t th e ceilin g every tim e Henr y hit s a b u m p . We pas s law n ornaments , memoria l markers , farm stands , count y fairs , hai r salons , hardwar e stores, politica l protests , cows , a cranberr y bog , twenty-five gif t shops , an d a Dair y Queen . "Are w e ther e yet? " John asks . "Very nearly , dear/ ' Mother-in-La w says . We pas s a library . A drug store . A church. A n ar t gallery. Mapl e tree s (a t leas t eighty) . Pin e tree s (a t least seventy-five) . A statu e o f Columbus . A sea t o f government. A par k benc h (occupied) . Tw o par k benches (unoccupied) . A beaut y contest . A sheltie , straining a t th e leash . A n elegan t birch . A lost glove . An orange-roofed Tast-EE-Freeze . "Are we ther e yet? " I ask . I don' t sa y so , but m y foo t i s getting cold . In th e fron t seat , Mother-in-La w i s h u m m i n g something abou t bottles , a wall , passin g 'e m around , etc. "No, dear, " sh e say s absentmindedly . "Soon. " I loo k a t John , bu t h e onl y smile s pacifically . Hi s head n o longe r butt s agains t th e ceiling . "You're shrinking, " I say . I sa y i t t o b e cruel , bu t just fo r a spli t second , i t seem s t o b e true . [180]
Mother-in-Law John smile s a t me . "Yes/ ' h e says , drawin g ou t each lette r very , ver y slowly . We begi n t o laugh . Mother-in-La w an d Henr y be gin t o laugh , too , in th e fron t seat . We round a corner , and th e ocea n come s int o view . It' s a stri p o f blue , nestled tigh t beneat h th e chi n o f th e blu e sky . "See," sai d Mother-in-Law , " I tol d yo u w e wer e almost there! " We pul l int o a parkin g lo t littere d wit h empt y things: bag s o f chips , greas y boxe s o f popcorn , ho t dog wrappers , shattere d cla m shells . There' s a scen e as w e unloa d th e car : Mother-in-La w i s to o bi g t o lif t herself ou t o f th e fron t seat ; John , trappe d behin d her, wail s t o ge t out . A s fo r me , I' m blocke d b y th e cooler, th e beac h ball , a smal l suitcase , fou r blankets , an umbrella , fou r foldin g beac h chairs , an d a fabri c bag stuffe d wit h makeup . Onl y Henr y ca n ge t free , and h e take s hi s time : h e stretches , yawns , an d lean s against th e car , finishing a smoke . "Henry! Henry ! Hel p m e ge t ou t o f thi s thing! " Mother-in-Law shouts . Henr y drop s hi s but t ont o th e pavement an d carefull y grind s i t ou t wit h hi s sandal . Then h e stroll s aroun d t o th e othe r sid e o f th e car . As fo r me , I decid e t o tak e action : I pic k u p th e makeup ba g an d thro w i t ou t o f th e car . I hea r th e tinkle o f a doze n mirror s shatterin g a s th e ba g hit s the pavement . Th e beac h chair s ar e next ; I thrus t [181]
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those ou t th e doo r a s well . Th e suitcas e i s easy—on e kick an d it' s i n th e parkin g lot . Although I don' t look , I ca n hea r Henr y pantin g an d groanin g a s h e trie s t o extract Mother-in-La w fro m th e fron t seat . "Good Lord , Maude , you'r e gettin g bigge r ever y day!" Henr y exclaims . "Mayb e i f I tur n yo u thi s way . . ." Mother-in-Law giggles , there's a cheerfu l poppin g sound, lik e a cor k comin g ou t o f a champagn e bottle , and sh e land s o n he r r u m p b y th e sid e o f th e car . John spill s ou t o n to p o f her. Suddenly , I feel foolish . I step ou t o f th e ca r int o a pil e o f beac h paraphernalia . "What a mess! " I say , showin g m y teet h t o goo d ad vantage. Laden wit h al l o f ou r stuf f ( I carr y th e chairs , th e blankets, th e suitcas e an d th e umbrella ; Henr y ha s the cooler ; Mother-in-La w hold s th e beac h bal l upo n her bulgin g tummy ; an d a s fo r John , hi s arm s ar e to o short t o carr y anythin g bu t th e fabri c bag , filled no w with a jinglin g cacophon y o f plasti c compact s spli t open lik e clamshells) , w e finally tur n towar d th e ocean. W e hea r th e rus h an d suc k o f th e waves ; ho t sand shift s an d shimmer s beneat h ou r sandale d feet . "This way! " say s Mother-in-Law , pointin g towar d an unoccupie d spi t o f sand (fo r th e san d i s occupied — everywhere w e look , althoug h w e tr y no t t o se e them , beach umbrella s sprin g u p aroun d u s lik e multicol [182]
Mother-in-Law ored mushrooms ; pungen t scream s emanatin g be neath thes e fabri c fung i war n u s o f infant s underfoot ; portable radio s compet e wit h th e seagulls ; buttock s smeared wit h coconu t oi l thrus t themselve s befor e our eyes ; Joh n steps , accidentally , upo n someone' s bologna sandwich . Crie s o f protes t ris e fro m th e sands). "I lov e t o se e th e sea! " Mother-in-La w sings ; he r voice cut s throug h th e beac h di n lik e th e chim e o f a bell. Sh e point s he r nos e skywar d an d take s grea t bi g snuffs o f th e sal t air . "Thi s i s just th e spot! " Sh e drop s the beac h bal l ont o th e sand , an d the n herself . Henry an d I scurr y t o unrol l th e blanket s an d unfurl th e umbrella . A s soo n a s she' s shifte d ont o he r blanket, Mother-in-La w produce s a bal l o f blu e yar n and begin s t o knit . Joh n disappear s dow n th e beac h with hi s re d an d whit e bucket . Mother-in-La w look s after him , an d sighs . "He's becom e suc h a fine boy ! Don' t thos e ne w trunks loo k lovel y o n him? " A seagull cough s i n reply . We al l li e o n ou r blankets , ther e i n a ro w befor e the seagree n sea . Henr y dexterousl y light s a ne w cig arette fro m th e shrinkin g but t o f th e old ; Mother-in Law click s he r needles ; I languorousl y tur n th e page s of Seashells of the Northern Shores. I ca n se e John , fa r down th e beach , stoopin g ove r a hol e i n th e sand . It' s [183]
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not a n uncomfortabl e silence , bu t I fee l compelle d t o offer a comment , jus t th e same . "John's smalle r tha n h e use d t o be, " I say . Henry aim s a smok e rin g aroun d th e hea d o f a nearby gull . Mother-in-Law clicks . "Not tha t I' m complaining/ ' I say . Mother-in-Law smile s an d nods . "There ar e advantages . Hi s ne w clothe s fi t hi m better. Bu t jus t th e same, " I say , "it' s odd . Don' t yo u think so , Mother? " She finally glance s u p fro m he r knitting , wit h th e provoked loo k o f a n enrage d warthog . "My Joh n i s becoming a fine boy, " she snaps , "an d I won' t hea r you sa y otherwise , Missy! " (I imagine her in the underbrush, tangled in a net of yarn, rolling over rocks and scrub and anthills, rolling toward the fertile plains, rolling toward the distant Himalaya, trying to escape my fateful jaw . . .) "Yes, Mother," I say . Henry make s a soun d lik e chuckling . We al l tur n ove r o n ou r blankets . "There's somethin g s o melodiou s abou t th e soun d of th e sea! " Mother-in-La w says , and sighs . She click s in uniso n wit h th e waves ; sh e migh t b e knittin g a n ocean: click— swoosh! click— swoosh! click — swoosh! I li e o n m y blanke t wit h m y nos e towar d th e sand, an d imagin e dar k thing s scuttlin g beneat h th e [184]
Mother-in-Law water: crab s i n silt , a green-eye d lobster , th e silk y sweet breat h o f th e sole . An d others , too : th e steam y bivalve, th e patien t mollusk ; live s o n th e shel l o r th e half-shell. Wha t coul d th e oyster s b e thinking ? I s there a quetzal , unde r th e sea ? Click an d swoosh subside , an d I fal l int o a n aque ous drea m i n whic h Mother-in-La w recede s befor e me throug h cavern s o f coral an d bone . She's go t spin y red fins, a laughin g face , tw o bi g spot s o f roug e o n her cheeks . W e dar t i n tande m throug h leaf y fronds , pirouette abov e th e se a stars , suc k diaphanou s bab y shrimp ou t o f th e sand . N o matte r ho w I tr y t o catc h up, Mother-in-La w i s alway s jus t ahea d o f me , wink ing a t m e wit h he r big , flat, straw-colore d eye s (amaz ing ho w eye s s o big , s o flat, s o straw-colored , ca n b e at th e sam e tim e s o expressive , s o loving) . Eve n a s she suck s u p th e shrimp , th e mussels , th e diatoms , the cora l polyps , th e anchovies , th e se a worm s an d sea jellies, the luxurian t sponges , th e twirlin g anemo nes, th e wate r fleas, an d hydra s an d volvo x an d lan goustines, thos e big , flat, golden , lovin g eye s see m to say : "Don' t worry , dear . There' s plent y fo r bot h of us! " And the n sh e disappears . There' s a roc k eruptin g with barnacles ; I sto p fo r a momen t t o prob e ther e with m y slende r tongue ; I look up , an d she' s gone . I'm terrified , alon e i n th e water y dark . I must find [185]
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my Mother-in-Law ! I rac e pas t blac k weavin g fingers of seaweed , i n an d ou t o f se a cave s wher e snappin g jaws li e waiting i n patien t obscurity , throug h cacoph onous school s o f tuna , ove r an d u p an d aroun d th e pink spiral s o f coral , highe r an d highe r unti l th e wa ter turn s w a r m , translucent , an d blue . But ther e i s n o Mother-in-Law; n o Mother-in-La w anywher e a t all . I giv e u p . I sink . I' m alone , completel y alone , i n the vas t col d sea . Then al l a t onc e I' m i n th e changin g roo m o f m y favorite departmen t store , tryin g o n bathin g suits . Mother-in-Law i s wit h me ! She' s there , jus t outsid e the curtain ! She' s handin g m e bathin g suits , on e after another . "Try thi s one , dear! " I try . I try . I try . Bu t Mother , they'r e to o small ! They're children' s bathin g suits , Mother-in-Law ! "Nonsense, dear . Why , tha t look s lovely ! Com e o n out her e an d model! " Miserably, I tr y t o tu g th e sui t down . I' m hal f naked! Bu t sh e want s m e t o model ! There' s a sligh t smell o f cigarett e smoke , a glimps e o f a hair y ear — Henry, waiting outside the curtain! I wont do it! I won't! I wak e up , gasping , wit h m y fac e i n th e sand . There's a periwinkl e stuc k t o m y thumbnail ; on e o f
[186]
Mother-in-Law Henry's cigarett e butt s lie s perilously clos e t o m y ear . I think : Something' s different . Something' s changed . I roll ove r an d se e tha t th e beac h i s empty; th e scarle t sun i s languorousl y meltin g int o th e sea . I'm mumblin g something . What ? "I mus t hav e slep t fo r hours, " I say , m y tongu e thick wit h th e gritt y effluvi a o f th e tides . Mother-in-Law i s talkin g t o someone . "Okay , dear, no w tur n aroun d an d le t m e chec k th e back, " she's saying . "Good ! Good ! Tha t look s ver y nice! " I si t up , an d se e Mother-in-La w pinnin g a littl e blue jerse y o n a sunburned , scrawny , blond-heade d boy. I have t o admi t it : I' m touched . "That's ver y swee t o f you, Mother-in-Law, " I say . Mother-in-Law look s youn g an d happ y i n th e eve ning light . Sh e smile s a t me . "He' s a fine boy, " sh e says. I wis h she' d kni t somethin g fo r me . Henry scratche s a t th e crotc h o f hi s blu e an d yel low trunk s an d say s h e want s t o leave . Th e blon d boy exclaim s wit h disappointment . I think : Wha t a charming child . Friendly . "I gues s it' s abou t tha t time, " Mother-in-La w says. "It' s bee n a lovel y day . Hasn' t i t bee n a lovel y day?"
[187]
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Yes, w e al l agree , it' s bee n a lovel y day . Henr y tugs Mother-in-La w t o he r feet ; the n h e an d I pack u p the beac h things . We hea d fo r th e car . "Wait!" I say , suddenl y awar e o f a n empt y spac e at m y side . "Where' s John ? W e can' t leav e withou t John!" They al l begi n t o laug h a t me : Mother-in-Law , Henry, an d th e littl e boy . Th e seagull s ar e laughing , the se a grass , th e san d dunes , eve n th e rock s (usually , so impassive) . Th e bo y pull s playfull y a t m y stac k of towels . "Here I am , silly! " h e says , gigglin g an d stickin g his pin k tongu e throug h a ga p i n hi s teeth . "I' m righ t here!" "Of cours e he' s here, " Mother-in-La w says . " I wouldn't leav e m y ver y ow n boy , woul d I? " They al l agre e sh e wouldn't , an d w e clim b int o the car . There ar e advantages , I suppose . A smaller Joh n takes u p les s spac e i n th e bac k seat , bu t h e bounce s more an d make s weir d sounds . Mother-in-La w lean s over an d clean s th e san d of f hi s fac e wit h he r ow n saliva. "Can't mov e aroun d muc h wit h thi s bi g belly! " she chuckles . We chuckl e sympathetically . That nigh t I retur n t o m y apartmen t alone . I li e [188]
Mother-in-Law alone i n m y bi g bed , listenin g fo r th e cr y o f th e quet zal. I ca n hea r al l kind s o f noise s fro m downstairs : the televisio n blaring , dishe s clattering , th e hollo w ringing thud s o f a bal l bouncin g agains t th e ceil ing, th e clatterin g footstep s o f a child . Smok e fro m Henry's cigarett e float s i n m y bedroo m window . It's a lonel y feeling . In th e mornin g I g o downstairs ; I tel l Mother in-Law, ver y somberly , tha t I wan t t o tak e Joh n t o breakfast. Thi s way , I think , h e an d I wil l hav e a chance t o tal k abou t i t all—mayb e I ca n counterac t Mother-in-Law; maybe , somehow , I ca n cajol e hi m into growin g u p again . But onc e w e ge t t o th e restaurant , I can't ge t hi m to tal k t o m e a t all . He' s wearin g on e o f hi s mother' s little kni t outfit s ( I notice , wit h a thril l o f despair , that eve n no w the sleeves are too short). H e order s chocolate milk . He' s go t a littl e ti n ca r tha t h e roll s up an d dow n m y a r m s . It's annoying . I thin k ho w gla d I am tha t w e neve r ha d children . After a fe w hour s I fee l compelle d t o tak e hi m back t o hi s mother . I'v e neve r bee n muc h o f on e fo r baby-sitting. Childre n hav e alway s bothere d me : s o much noise , drooling , puddle s o f mess ; thei r smell , like tarnishe d nickels . And s o Joh n disappear s int o hi s mother' s apart ment; I le t hi m disappear . I se e a narro w glimps e o f [189]
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the interio r forest ; th e doo r shut s i n m y face ; ou r lif e together i s over . But o f course , I stil l hav e m y binoculars . I se e them together : Mother-in-Law , Henry , an d John , heading acros s th e parkin g lo t t o thei r car , lade n wit h beach thing s o r picni c basket s o r baseball s an d bats . They loo k s o happy , singin g an d swingin g thei r ham pers o f col d chicke n an d potat o salad . Sometime s i t seems t o m e tha t Joh n look s younge r tha n before ; Mother-in-Law look s wider ; bu t I squint , I ru b m y eyes, an d th e illusio n disappears . On e da y I' m a t th e a q u a r i u m (slowly , reluctantly , I'v e onc e agai n take n up th e habit s o f th e singl e life : visit s t o th e aquarium , the botanica l gardens , th e ar t museum , even , a t mo ments o f lonel y desperation , th e heliocopte r museu m of ou r fine city) ; I roun d a corne r pas t th e bubblin g octopi; an d I se e Mother-in-La w i n fron t o f me . Sud denly I' m overtake n b y th e frenz y o f m y dream . I lon g to spea k t o her . I cal l out , "Mother ! Mother-in-Law! " She turn s an d see s me . Then sh e runs . I thin k she' s holdin g something . I thin k she' s go t a bab y i n he r a r m s . After tha t da y I don' t se e the m an y more : neithe r Mother-in-Law no r Henr y no r John . I still hea r noise s from downstairs , bu t eve n thos e ar e muted , a s i f the y didn't wan t m e t o hear . Onc e o r twice , I thin k there' s [190]
Mother-in-Law a bab y crying , bu t it' s har d t o tell . Th e soun d rise s quickly an d i s just a s suddenl y m u t e d — i t coul d hav e been th e wind , o r m y quetzal . Finally I surpris e her . I ris e ver y early , an d snea k downstairs an d out , an d there' s Mother-in-Law , working i n he r garden . She' s wearin g a bi g gauz y re d dress an d she' s o n he r knee s i n th e dirt ; I se e th e brown bottom s o f he r feet . She' s le t he r hai r grow . It's lon g an d blon d an d tumble s aroun d he r face ; I can't se e he r fac e a t all . "Mother!" I say . She turn s around . Sh e turns . It' s Mother-in-Law , but she' s ver y young . She' s lik e a pictur e fro m John' s photo album . Sh e blink s a t me , pushe s th e golde n hair ou t o f he r face ; finally , sh e stands , an d I ca n se e that she' s pregnant : hugel y pregnant , irremediabl y pregnant, undeniabl y with child. She's younge r tha n I am . "Yes, dear? " But I hav e nothin g t o sa y t o her . I smile , an d g o back inside .
And no w I' m packing . I' m takin g everything : m y sea shells an d gemstone s an d stuffe d bird s an d butter flies, m y presse d flowers, eve n th e teeth . An d m y bin oculars; I'l l wea r those ; I'l l han g the m aroun d m y [191]
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neck a s I run. I can leav e th e les s importan t stuff , lik e furniture an d clothes . It' s imperativ e tha t I leave . This morning , leanin g o n th e windowsill , I saw some thing tha t convince d me : m y ow n mother , walkin g up th e walk , carryin g he r suitcase s an d he r birdcage ; my ow n mother , shakin g Mother-in-La w b y th e hand , looking a s i f she intende d t o stay .
[192]