Northern Lights (41 page)

He smelled the rich pond. She held his head. “There,” she said in a loud voice. “Now come here,” and again there was a long time of rebuilding and recoiling, and he did not think of anything. “Ah, shame,” she said. “There, do you like that there?”

He could not say anything and barely heard. The weight seemed to press on his ears.

“Are my breasts too big for you?” she laughed.

“No,” he said.

“Are you sure?” And she started to say something else, a kind of fresh tease in her voice, but she was cut off and said something else very loudly, and again he was not thinking, and as though sinking she moved away from him and down but he caught up and held her by her breasts until she shook, then he held her while they were quiet, then she held him.

“What a stinker,” she finally laughed.

“I can shower.”

“No. I think it’s lovely, I do. We can sleep like this always.”

“Shall I get you some hot chocolate?” he said.

“Yes. Then we can have more energy. Do you think we made a son?”

“Three of them, I’ll bet.”

“I have the same feeling.”

“But I don’t care about the son right now.”

“Good.”

“Are you thinking of anything? I can’t think of a thing to think about.”

“Shhhhh.”

“I feel good.”

“Shhhhh. Where’s my hot chocolate?”

“Are you glad we’re selling?” he asked.

“Yes, but where’s my hot chocolate? Yes, I’m glad. I’m happy now.”

In the morning, Bishop Markham called to say the house was sold. He was cheerful and congratulatory. “You know what really sold ’em? The darned bomb shelter! Can you believe that? It’s true, I swear. The darned bomb shelter. Can you … Maglione says he’s gonna make it into a studio. Can’t get more abstract than a bomb shelter, right? Hee, hee. Anyhow, I guess it’s a load off your shoulders.”

“A real load. Thanks, Bishop. When do they want …?”

“Easy, easy. Plenty of time for all that. Mortgages and deeds and banks. You know how that is. Never easy selling a house. But that’s what you got me for, right, so just take her easy and let me handle it. You’re a lucky man, buddy.”

Bishop talked in a faraway voice about the finances and paper work, then Perry thanked him and hung up. Grace was out working in the garden. Pregnant already, he thought. Not so bad, after all.

He watched her through the gauze curtains.

It was cool and she was wearing a sweater, the one he gave her for her birthday, and she looked terrific, he thought, and he was grateful and felt very lucky. She was on her knees, her hands deep in dirt as she planted flowers for the spring, when they would no
longer be there, her hands deep in the garden dirt. She saw him watching and waved and he waved back, then went upstairs.

Harvey was in bed, watching television with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair slicked down. He was smoking.

“Guess that was our good and loyal friend Bishop on the phone,” he said without looking up. It was Saturday morning and the cartoons were on.

“He sold it. The Maglione people fell in love with your bomb shelter.”

“Charming people.”

“They’re all right, Harv.”

“When do we get booted out? Imagine they’re already coming with truckloads of easels and paints to boot us out.”

“No.”

“Italians.”

“No. Bishop says there’s a lot of papers to sign. Lots of time, he said.”

Wistfully, Harvey blew smoke towards the ceiling. “We don’t have to sign, do we?” He looked at Perry with a sober eye. “There’s no crummy law that says we have to sign the papers.”

“No. I guess there’s not a law.”

“I built that bomb shelter with my own hands. Solid as rock. It’ll take anything. Hate like the devil to leave it, you know. Bad news getting caught in a nuclear war without your trusty bomb shelter.”

“Sounds terrible to me.”

“Terrible? My God, think of your testicles.”

“Rotten thought.”

“Think of Grace.”

“I am.”

“What if we don’t sell?” Harvey said. “We don’t have to sell just because some miserable Italians want to take over.”

“No,” Perry said. “No, we’re selling.”

“You’ve decided, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Taking charge,” Harvey laughed. “Taking the old bull by the horns.”

“It’s best, Harv.”

“Falling apart,” Harvey said, still laughing. “It’s all falling apart, isn’t it? The whole thing blowing up into pieces.”

“Yeah. Want to take a walk?”

Harvey shook his head. He lit a fresh cigarette and leaned back in bed. “I’ll just watch the cartoons. Nothing like some good cartoons to cheer things up as the world comes to an end.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t understand, do you? Even now you don’t understand.”

“I guess I don’t,” Perry said.

That evening Harvey was talkative and falsely cheerful.

He drank gin and tonic, then after supper switched to beer. “What we should do is go into town for a last party,” he said with bravado, his voice nasal and phoney and too high-pitched and certain. “That’s what we should do. Celebrate my brother’s great and lovely cop-out and sellout.”

“It’s all for the best, Harv.”

“Then let’s celebrate! Right? Celebrate the end. Go out with cheer and good humor, right? Not with a bang but a beer.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Harvey said loudly. “What tomorrow? What bloody tomorrow is this? You don’t understand, do you?”

“I don’t want to argue.”

“Argue? Argue! You’ve taken the old bull by the horns and
who’s to argue? Celebrate. We have to celebrate my brother’s decision.”

“Cut it out, Harv.”

“After a beer to celebrate. Then I’ll cut it out. Be my old easygoing self again.”

“Nope.”

“Just one? Just a lousy beer to celebrate? I promise to behave.”

“All right,” Perry said. “Just one.”

He showered and put on clean clothes and they drove into town. Franz’s tavern was closed and the streets were nearly empty.

“Park the car and let’s take a walk,” Harvey said. “I didn’t want a lousy beer anyway.”

Perry stopped in front of the library. They walked up past the old sawmill, around the hub and up Mainstreet towards the church. June bugs swirled around the electric lights. They passed Damascus Lutheran and the farm implement store where, during the daylight hours, old men sat to talk and spit and watch.

Perry wondered if he should be nostalgic about anything and decided not, decided that maybe he would be nostalgic another time.

Harvey was very quiet.

They turned up Acorn Street.

Lights burned behind curtains and the sounds of radios and televisions flowed out like running water. There was no traffic. An elderly couple came towards them, holding each other by the arms and talking softly, and there were crickets in the grass.

“I don’t want to sell,” Harvey finally said.

“I know.”

Harvey was quiet. He kicked a stone in front of him, caught up to it and kicked it again. “We could stay, couldn’t we? Old times again. We could do a lot of things.”

“No.”

“You never loved the old man, did you?”

“Yes,” Perry said. “I loved him.”

“Shit.”

“I don’t want to argue.”

“Who’s arguing?” Harvey said, kicking the stone again. “You never loved him. You think he didn’t know it? Shit. You could’ve done something to show you loved him if you say you loved him. He wasn’t so bad.”

“I know, Harv.”

“The hell you do. I’m not selling.”

“Yes. You are. You’re selling and we’re getting out of here.”

They were in front of the church again.

Harvey stopped and took Perry’s collar, fingering it as though deciding something.

“You’re a coward,” he said.

“Maybe so, Harv.”

“Not maybe. The old man was right.”

“The old man was crazy.”

“What?”

Perry was shaking. “Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“How can I hit a coward?”

“Harvey.”

“Tell me you’re just a coward.”

“No.”

Harvey tugged his collar, almost gently, but hard enough to mean something. “We’re not selling, are we?”

“Yes. We’re selling.”

“Not me.”

“Then you’ll have to buy my half. I’m finished with it.”

“Shit,” Harvey laughed. “A coward from the start. The old man was right. Wasn’t he?”

“Harvey, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Harvey laughed. He started to cough. “Ha. You just don’t tell me you loved him. You hear? Selling! I wish he could hear it, I do. I wish he could just be here and listen to you lamming like a bloody little girl. He was right all along.”

“Harvey, it’s …”

“Don’t call me Harvey or I’ll belt you. You hear?”

“All right.” Harvey’s voice had that nasal tinkle that came when he got excited, as if he were talking through his nose and not his mouth. The bad eye was going crazy.

“We’re not selling,” he said. “You hear that?”

“No. We’re selling, Harv.”

“You don’t understand a bloody thing about it, do you?”

“Enough to know we’re selling.”

“Selling?” Harvey said bitterly. “You don’t understand a thing, do you? Nothing. You haven’t learned a thing.”

“Let go of my collar.”

“Sure. Sure, there’s your collar. All yours.”

“Harvey.”

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

Harvey kicked his stone, starting walking again, fast, and they crossed over on to Apple Street. The movies were letting out and a gang of eager kids hurried past them, talking and laughing and running towards some secret adventure. It was warm and quiet. They walked to the end of the street, then turned and walked back again.

“Where will you go?” Harvey said.

“Duluth maybe. I haven’t decided. Grace likes the idea of Iowa.”

“Lord.”

“I know.”

“Look. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Harv.”

“I can be a first-class bum, can’t I? I’m sorry. Honest. It’s just
the whole bloody mess … everything. Everything falling apart like it is. But I can say some rotten things and I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

Harvey stopped again. He put out his hand and Perry thought what the hell and shook it. Things would never be right again, anyway. Harvey smiled shallowly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It just scares me a little. The same with Addie. I can say some miserable things.”

“It’s tough. Forget it.”

“You’re a good brother. You are, I mean it.” He kicked once again at the stone. “It was the same bloody scene with Addie. Everything’s blowing to bits and I just say some rotten miserable things. You really going to Iowa?”

“Grace seems to like the idea. We’ll see what happens.”

“Well,” Harvey grinned, “there’s always Mexico City, isn’t there? How does Mexico City sound?”

“Sure.”

“It’s always a possibility. Mexico City or Juneau or something. I could get a job and maybe send for Addie. What do you think? You and Grace could come to visit and it would be old times again.”

Perry decided to stay quiet. Too bad, he thought, but nothing could be done.

“Mexico City. We could all go for a trip into the mountains. The four of us all together again. Sun and jungle. Mountains. We could hire us some donkeys and slaves.” Harvey was talking and walking fast, kicking his stone. “I’ve actually never had my own slave. Wow, we could search for ancient civilizations that got destroyed by earthquakes. Or gold. Gold! We could search for bloody gold, how’s that? Addie could fill our teeth with it. What do you think? Miserable, isn’t it? I feel miserable. Really, I’m sorry. I am. Wish I had a beer, that’s what … That Addie. She said she didn’t want to go to Mexico City with me. Can you believe
that nonsense? Said she didn’t want to go. I guess old Addie’s lost the spirit. Too bad for her. I feel miserable, Paul. Some hero.”

Perry couldn’t think of anything to say. They crossed the tennis courts and came back on to Mainstreet. Everything was quiet. He wanted to get home.

Harvey kicked his stone up the street. “You know what we should do?”

“What?”

“We should go fishing tomorrow. You and me. How would that be?”

“Maybe.”

Harvey laughed. “You are a good brother. Wish I had a brother like you. A good secure and down-to-earth brother. That’s what I need. I wonder how you get to be secure and down-to-earth … That Addie. It’s a crime, isn’t it? I suppose I shouldn’t have been such a pirate. Right? Except I’m not really a pirate. Did I ever tell you that?”

They walked past the drugstore and Perry’s office. There was no traffic. Harvey kept kicking at his stone, his bad eye shining, and they walked down the center of Mainstreet. “That’s it,” he said. “We’ll go fishing tomorrow. Fish the crummy lake dry. How does that sound? Just you and me … And maybe later we can take a trip up north in canoes or something. God, we could do us some fishing then, I’ll guarantee it! Wilderness. The old man says you can catch fish with your bloody
hands
there’s so many of them. And water so clean you can drink it straight from the lake. How does it sound? It’s what we need … We could … we could fish our way into Canada, eat what we catch. Lakes and portages the whole way … Not a man in sight. Nobody. Real wilderness, no more of this crap. Just go and go and go. The devil can care, how’s that? The devil can care. Addie can try to find me. We’ll just go and go. Take canoes and tents and sleeping bags … I can just
see it, getting out of all this crap and … and the devil can care. How’s that? How does that sound? Doesn’t that sound fine? Doesn’t it?” Harvey walked faster, kicking his stone down the center of Mainstreet. He shivered as if closing the circuit on a great electrical current. “What do you think? We’ll go way the hell up there, into the woods, fish with our bloody
hands
!”

They came out at the sawmill. The streets were empty. They turned up towards the library and Harvey hurried ahead, kicking at the stone. The town smelled clean. Someone had forgotten to pull down the flag in front of the library, and it was wrapped around its pole, flapping softly. Too bad, Perry thought. He caught up with his brother and put an arm around him.

“What do you think?” Harvey said. “We’ll have us a fine time, won’t we? Then later we’ll go to Mexico City. We’ll have a terrific time. You’ll see. Yes. Yes, we’ll go into the mountains and have us a
great
time! Really. And who needs Addie? Who needs a squaw, anyway? We don’t need any of that. No women, just us. It’ll be a great time, you’ll see. You’ll see.”