On their way out, the men toot the utility truck horn and we women wave from the kitchen window. It has started snowing again â day three of the storm.
20. Escape
I
T FEELS SOME GOOD
to plunge the key deep into Billy's ignition. The truck roars for a second, then shudders before settling into a powerful purr. Overnight, it seems, the temperature has risen enough for the ice on the windshield to slide off easily with a tap of the scraper. For a moment there, this morning, the sun actually broke through the clouds, which caused everyone to cheer except me. Not because I wasn't happy to see the sun, but because I didn't want to appear too excited to be running away from Kyle House. “Which is exactly what we're doing, huh, girl?” I say to Suzie who is curled up beside me on the seat. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to accomplish this, since Olive has given me a long list of supplies to pick up at the Four Reasons. What gets me is what she has written at the top of the list in big letters:
INVITE DANNY AND ALANA OVER FOR SUPPER AND BEAR JAMES TOO IF YOU SEE HIM.
Last night, I went up to bed as soon as the dishes were done â another mountain of them. How does one person generate so many dishes when serving leftover stew? Rena and I were kneeling side by side on the bath mat, our hands deep in the tub scooping up utensils, when Rena said, “Now, what do you suppose this is?”
“Parsley snipper,” I said, wondering why the hell Olive couldn't have just torn off the few sprigs of parsley she needed to add to the stew instead of messing up this thing.
“This is a new one to me,” Rena said. “I'll have to tell Tripper about it. He collects just about every gadget there is.”
Now there was a name I hadn't heard in a long while. After Ricky Chase died I knew that Tripper had taken on Rena, or was it that Rena had taken on Tripper? In any case, I knew they lived in a tiny house near the marsh right at the edge of town. Alana used to say that, besides peacock feathers, there were two things you should avoid bringing into your home: Tripper O'Leery and Rena Dickson. “Cause he's sure to rip your man off, and she's sure to rip one off your man,” she'd said.
It's probably been ten years since I've seen either of them since I hardly ever go to town. And suddenly here she was, Rena, kneeling beside me in front of a bathtub, and with just the mention of Tripper, they land back in my life. All thanks to Olive who is so desperate for friends she'll pick up anyone off the road. I wouldn't let her through my front door. Tripper either.
I think Rena must have read my thoughts just then because she said, “You know, he's changed a lot since he got the cancer.”
“Who?”
“Tripper.”
“Tripper O'Leery has cancer?” There was a time when people thought of Tripper O'Leery himself as a cancer. Once he took a .22 rifle out into the marsh and was gone for days. Someone said he'd told them he was fed up with everyone in town, so we all thought he'd gone and done himself in. And it's a terrible thing to admit, but there weren't that many sad to hear it, myself included. Even so, when he showed up a week later with a bunch of stinking muskrats tied to his belt, there was an odd mix of disappointment as well as relief around town. Tripper O'Leery may have been bad news, but he was still one of ours. I heard myself say, “I'm sorry to hear that. How's he doing with it? I mean, will he be okay?”
“Okay?” Rena shrugged. “That chemo is awful. You ever have it?”
“Uh, no, can't say that I have.”
“Me neither, but there's so much cancer going around we probably will some day.”
“Nice thought.”
“Funny, huh?” Rena laughed. “When you think of all the poison we used to do on purpose.”
Let me tell you, my head snapped up then, and I looked out to the kitchen to see if Olive may have heard that. But she was sitting at the table next to the kerosene lamp, her head still bent over her hooking project. Rena poked me with her elbow and whispered, “I bet that one over there never got into the kind of stuff we did.”
I shrugged, like I couldn't care less, but just hearing her talk about the kind of stuff we used to do made my mouth go all dry and suddenly I felt a need to run to the toilet.
Recalling that conversation is enough to make me run Billy out of the ruts in Olive's lane. It's a high lane, and I jerk the wheel away from the edge just in time. Oh, that would have been good, Trish, landing Billy in the ditch.
As I turn onto Thunder Hill Road, I'm surprised to see it's not as rough and icy as I imagined. It's even bare in spots. All morning, the sun has been breaking through the clouds over Thunder Hill. Bear must be at home in his cabin because a plume of smoke wafts up through the trees. I picture him tending his fire, the way he putters around his yard collecting wood, squatting in front of the hearth to light the kindling. Oh, look, his clothes have gotten wet, so he's taking them off there in front of the fire. His body looks golden in the light, and the heat or something has given him an erection.⦠Oh, Trish, where are you going with this? Because now he has it in his hand and he's got this thoughtful face on because he is thinking about ⦠about ⦠you, of course, and his missed opportunity on the pool table. Easy girl, I'm thinking, you're almost at the Four Reasons and you probably shouldn't go in there all flushed and panting. Alana once declared that men have an unfair advantage over women, starting when they get their first erections and learn to think about other things to keep it in check. They have a whole lifetime to perfect the idea of mind over matter. We women go through life oblivious to this learned skill. We all laughed when she came out with this idea. Now I'm thinking maybe she was on to something, because I probably look like I'm burning up. Quick Trish, you're rounding the final corner before the Four Reasons. Who knows, maybe Bear is there in the store right now. Think about something to calm you down. Think about Olive's grocery list. What did she want me to pick up anyway?
A box of raisins, for all the oatcakes she'll bake.
Vegetable shortening for the pies.
Lemons to go with the gigantic salmon that has thawed and must be eaten tonight.
Batteries, toilet paper!
Candles, bread and butter pickles for the kids.
Extra dog food in case the storm picks up again.
Bear really is hot.
That does it. It's time to get some expert advice on this whole matter.
21. Angry Alana
J
UDGING BY THE WAY
Alana is snapping apart the wooden vegetable crates and stuffing them into the stove, I gather that now might not be the time to ask her about anything.
It's a pretty feeble fire she's got going; it barely takes the chill off the place. And knowing Alana, she's too stubborn to leave the store to go across the road to the Bradley Farm where there's a generator and warmth.
“Have you thought about what you might burn next?” I say, looking around the store.
Alana straightens up and places her hands on the small of her back, which is a sure sign that she's stressed. Or pissed. Or both.
“Yeah, I'm thinking of burning down the store. We'll go out with a big bonfire at least.”
“Right,” I say. “Where's Danny anyway?”
Another sore point â I can tell immediately by the way she cracks the last slat over her knee. I open the stove grate for her and she pops in the pieces.
“Danny took it upon himself to go all the way up Thunder Hill to collect fallen branches around Bear's house. So he borrowed the Bradley's truck yesterday afternoon and nobody's seen him since. Including the Bradleys.”
I say the appropriate things, like, isn't she worried? But all the while I'm processing what it means that Danny has gone up to Bear's. Would Bear tell him how I was practically humping him there on the pool table?
No, Alana tells me, she's not worried, she's pissed. She figures he spent the night getting drunk with Bear, who always has a stash of rum. And, she can't wait to get her hands on him when he walks through the door.
“I told him not to go in the first place, because I knew that road would be too slippery to come down, but you know Dannyâ¦.” She slams the stove's grate shut. “And so I've got the Bradleys wondering where the hell their truck is, and here I am burning furniture to keep warm. And I don't even have any rum!”
I think maybe I should offer to trade places with Alana. She could run Billy back to Kyle House and get warm and drunk while I wait here for Danny. There's a good chance he'd bring Bear along too. Then what would you do, Trish? I realize I'm shivering now. I wonder if that's due to the thought of seeing Bear, or simply that it is real fucking cold here in the store.
“Screw Danny. In fact, screw all men!” I say, raising my fist in the air.
“No. One is quite enough,” Alana says, slumping into her chair, her elbows on her knees, her hands dangling towards the floor â Alana's classic “I give up” pose.
“Hey,” I say. “What happened to âit's okay to have somebody waiting in the wings'?”
She waved her hand at me in disgust. “You haven't reached the stage where you realize all men are pigs.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “Danny's just pissing you off today.”
“Yeah, like Ray always pisses you off too. He called yesterday, by the way.”
“Oh?” I say, surprised that for the first time in a year this news is not making my heart jump. Jiggle maybe, but not jump. “What did he say?”
“Not much. He's still stuck down there in Newville.”
“Did you tell him aboutâ¦?” I was going to say the flue fire, but she jumped right in.
“Tell him about what? You and Bear on the pool table? No, I thought I'd let you do that.”
She is enjoying this, I can tell. And here I'd come looking for advice. You'd think she'd be more sympathetic, given that she was the only one who knew what I went through when Ray left me for Newville. I've never been much of a crier but for four solid weeks, I could hardly say his name without my eyes misting.
Back then, Alana tried her best to help. I'd stop in every night after work and the second I walked in the door she'd hand me a shot of rum. Anesthesia, she called it, and I have to say, it helped. In between customers we sat in the back by the stove and she'd listen and I'd talk, and talk, and talk. Sometimes I felt so angry with Ray for walking out that I'd spend the whole time trashing him.
“You know how everybody thinks he's such a nice guy, always ready to help? It's bullshit. He thinks of kindness as an investment, like how that person is going to help him out some day. Deep down, he only cares about himself.”
“Doesn't everybody?” she'd said. “I mean the only reason anybody helps anyone else is because there's something in it for them. Even if it's just because helping others makes them feel good about themselves.”
A little later, I said, “He could have said something to me, you know. I mean, I was always honest about all the things that bothered me about him, but he'd never say a word about what bothered him. So he'd just let it fester and fester. I don't think that's fair. Do you?”
“No, I don't think it's one bit fair. But maybe he was afraid to say anything to you because you'd get so defensive. I've seen you Trish. You've got an awful bad temper.”
“So? So do you.”
“We're talking about
you
.”
Somehow Alana wasn't giving me what I'd grown to expect from her, my best friend â that little thing called “sympathy.”
I took a different approach. “I guess I don't blame Ray for leaving me,” I sighed. “My hair is practically grey, I wear flannel to bed, and let's face it, I'm not as pretty as I used to be.”
“So, who is?”
“And I shouted at him a lot.”
“That you did.”
“And I took him for granted.”
“Yep.”
“No wonder he left me.”
“Trish,” she said. “You're allowed to take your mate for granted, up to a point.”
“And you think I went beyond that point?”
She shrugged. “All I know is that this sort of thing happens to the best of couples.”
“Yeah, well he took me for granted too,” I said. “And I'm beginning to think we just got bored with each other.”
“Tell me about it,” she laughed, and then went on to say that even she and Danny were far from immune and that they had to work hard at keeping it fresh. Sometimes they had to work hard just not to kill each other. This was supposed to make me feel better? How could Alana dismiss my marriage to Ray so easily? We were talking about Trish and Ray here, not just some Jane and Joe Blow. I vowed right then not to allow my marriage to end. I would pour my heart into it.
After that first weekend he came home, I phoned him every night. I kept those calls short, and I drew upon the power every woman has over her man. What did I talk about? Nothing relating to our marriage, or to our child, or to our history together. Instead, I whispered things into the phone that were sure to make him hard. I'd start with a husky voice. I'd say, “Guess what I'm doing right now,” and let him run with it from there. At first I was afraid he might hear the desperation in my voice, but it seems Ray liked to talk about sex over the phone. It was new to me too, and I surprised myself with how worked up I could get.
I kept this up every night for a week or so, until he got good and used to a dose of this sort of talk just before falling asleep at night. Then I stopped the calls cold. I even took to popping Gravol early in the evening so that I'd be sound asleep by telephone time and therefore not tempted to hear his voice. I did this for three nights. On the third night, the ringing phone eventually found its way through to my consciousness. When I picked it up, there was a desperate Ray who wondered if maybe he could come home the next weekend too.
From that moment on, I went around acting as if everything was fine and dandy between Ray and me. If Alana asked me how we were doing, I'd say that what happened on Gayl's birthday had been a serious blip in our marriage but that we were cool now. There were times when I even managed to convince myself of this.
I look out the window and up the road. “He'll likely be coming along any minute.”
“Who?” says Alana. “Bear?”
“No, Danny, of course.”
“We weren't even talking about Danny. We were talking about Bear.”
“We were?” I said. “ Well then, maybe Danny will bring Bear along.”
“You know what? I don't even want to see Danny. Maybe I should just close up shop and go over to Olive's with you. How's it been over there, anyway?”
“You would not believe it.”
“That bad?”
“She cooks all the time and uses up every dish and pot in the house. And guess who does the dishes?”
“After all the canned spaghetti we've had lately, I wouldn't mind having one of Olive's meals.” Alana sighs again.
I try again. “Guess who's in charge of cleaning up!”
“I'd gladly do the dishes.”
“Maybe you wouldn't if you knew who I've been washing dishes
with
.”
“The twins?”
I shake my head.
“Olive?”
“Weirder.”
“Weirder than Olive?”
“Try Rena Dickson.” Now I would have thought that would stop Alana in her tracks. But all she said was, “Oh, really?”
“You don't seem all that surprised.”
“I knew she was opening the Chase cottage,” Alana says, sinking into her rocker and biting her lip. “So it's true then. She's going ahead with her idea of opening an ice-cream stand.”
I almost choke on my tea. “Ice-cream stand?”
“She came in the day before the storm for a reading. She wanted advice. Don't look at me like that. What was I supposed to do? Tell her she shouldn't open an ice-cream stand in our neck of the woods?”
I shake my head. I'm getting that feeling again, like I've entered some alternative world like you see in sci-fi movies, where everything has gotten twisted around somehow. Like the fact that I'm suddenly hot for my old friend Bear? Like the fact that Alana likes cats all of a sudden? Like she's now inviting Rena Dickson back into our lives?
“You actually advised Rena Dickson to move out here and open up an ice-cream stand?”
“Why not? I don't mind a little competition.”
“Gee. That's very generous of you,” I say. “Considering how you once vowed to kill her.”
Alana laughs. “I mean competition in the ice-cream business. I somehow don't think of Rena as a threat in the other department.”
“Why the hell not? Remember the time you caught them in the act and him trying to convince you that blow jobs didn't count as cheating? And then her having the nerve to take advantage of Ray when he was so drunk he could barely stay seated on the edge of a bath tub?”
“Oh right, like she took advantage of all our poor innocent men.”
“Okay, okay. But what makes you think she's changed?”
“Because that was a long time ago, Trish. Sometimes you have to let this kind of stuff go.
“Why does everyone keep telling me that?”
Alana is smiling at me like I'm about thirteen.
“Quit looking at me like I'm thirteen,” I say. Since I'm feeling pretty weak in the knees, I sit on the stool next to the stove and stick my chin in my hands. “lately I feel like I'm about thirteen.”
“So I've noticed.”
“Really. It's like you said, about the past staring at me in the face.”
“You mean seeing Rena again?”
“No. Not Rena.”
“Well who then?” Her breath catches. Then her eyes narrow and she studies my face until I blush. “It's Bear! I knew it.”
“You did not,” I say, but I can feel a guilty smirk invading my face. Of course, Alana picks up on this and suddenly her mood perks up.
“I knew something more than sleep happened on that pool table!”
“No, not really, but⦔ It bursts out of me and I can't seem to keep everything from gushing out. I tell her about Ray and how I feel we really have come to an end. And that what's been going on with me these past few weeks is me trying to come to terms with this fact and that maybe what happened on the pool table at Hog Holler happened for a reason.
“But what happened on the pool table?”
“Nothing happened. It's really what
didn't happen
.”
“Tell me!”
So I tell her about Bear rubbing my feet to the point where I was practically jumping out of my skin. And I tell her every detail about the cuddling and even the kissing on the pool table. After all, as Alana once said, what is friendship between women about, besides details?
Then she says, “So? Then what?”
“So nothing. We went to sleep.”
“Really. You fell asleep,” Alana is saying.
I look out the window. The sun is still shining out there. The spots of asphalt on the road are growing larger. I realize that Alana hasn't said anything in a while, which is quite unlike her, so I turn and see that she is staring at me like I'm holding something back from her, like I'm a total stranger. She's not the only one who has been looking at me this way lately.