The Laughing Matter (14 page)

“God,” the boy said, “I'm going to be awful nervous until you call tomorrow afternoon.”

“I'll call the minute Trabing calls,” Evan said.

“Did he sound as if I might have a chance?”

“Yes,” Evan said. “I think you'll be making the voyage all right, but forget the whole thing until tomorrow afternoon.”

“O.K.,” the boy said. “I'll get in my car and drive all day and all night.” He stopped suddenly. “Listen,” he said, “let me bring the car over and leave it in the driveway. Why not take the family for a Sunday drive? Take them to the dam at Friant, or to the river at Piedra. I don't need the car. I'll walk to Clovis, and take in a movie.”

Evan went to the parlor and stretched out on the sofa. He was almost asleep when the telephone bell rang. It was Dade.

“They just surrendered,” he said. “The game's over.”

“You mean you haven't had any sleep
yet?”

“I'm going to bed now.”

“What are you going to do when you wake up?”

“Go back to sleep.”

“When you're through sleeping fly here, will you?”

“Yes.”

“We had breakfast together, then went to church. I'm driving them to Piedra for a picnic later on.”

“Is my car back?”

“Not yet,” Evan said. “Cody's boy is lending me his car. When will you get here?”

“I need a lot of sleep,” Dade said. “I mean, I
want
a lot. Tomorrow night at the earliest, maybe the night after.”

“I've put the money in the top drawer of your bureau,” Evan said.

“That's yours,” Dade said. “That was nothing. Just put it away in your satchel. I'll phone you from the airport in Fresno.” In their own language he said, “Tell me.”

“I'm
trying,”
Evan said in the language.

“It is right,” Dade said in the language, and then in English, “Sometime during the day teach Red to say, ‘My name is Rex Nazarenus.' Teach him something new every day.”

“O.K.,” Evan said.

He went back to the sofa, stretched out, and was soon deep in sleep, but not so deep that he was free. He begged his sleep to annoy him no more, let him rest, let him forget, so that he might in time learn what to do, in the time of another night, another day, another night and day, know what to do, know how to do it, know how for the rest of his life.

When he woke up he went out onto the front porch and saw Bart's car in the driveway. He went to Swan and found her fast asleep. He found Red awake, and spoke to him about the picnic. Red jumped out of bed, and then the whole house was alive with the idea, Swan making sandwiches and Red and Eva urging her to hurry up, so they could go.

“I'm
going, too,” Eva said. “Papa's taking
me
, too.”

The man took Red aside and said, “I want you to sit in the back with Mama because I hurt Eva when I didn't take her with us last night. I want her to sit alone up front with me. I know you understand.”

When they were ready to go the man said, “Now let's see. Mama and Red in the back, and Papa and Eva in the front.” He watched the girl's face. She was so pleased and surprised she became speechless. She scrambled into her place, sat there, folded her hands, turned several times to look at her mother and her brother. At last she said, “I'm in the front with Papa.”

They wore light clothing. The windows of the car were open. The air they breathed was good. The man followed country roads as far as possible, driving slowly, stopping now and then to look at a vineyard, a tree, or an abandoned house. He got out of the car once to take some ripe nectarines off a tree, and Red got out with him. The nectarines were a little hot, but they were, juicy and sweet. He counted out three for each of them. When they came to the river at Piedra he drove along the riverside road until they found a green place, a cluster of three willows. There they sat on a blanket.

“It would be heaven to live here,” the woman said.

“This is the best time of the year,” the man said. “Everything's ripe now. The air's full of the smell of it. I'll tell you what I want to do. I want to use this fine rock for a pillow, stretch out and breathe the good air.” He set the boulder down, just beyond the edge of the blanket, stretched out, and rested his head on it.

“Look at Papa,” the girl said. “He's made a pillow out of a rock.”

“I want to get in the water,” Red said.

“So do I,” Eva said.

“All right,” the man said. “Take off your clothes and get in. The rocks are slippery, so try not to fall.”

“They're wearing suits across the river,” Red said. “Have we got suits?”

“Wear your shorts,” the man said.

They got out of their clothes and waded into the water, where for ten or fifteen feet it was only a foot or two deep, with clean water moving swiftly over boulders, most of them big ones, some of them as big as the one his head rested on.
He listened to them gasping because the water was cold, shouting and laughing, and he saw Red slip, get up, and say, “God damn that rock!”

After they had been in the water five minutes they waded out and sat on the hot white sand just beyond the shade of the trees, burying their feet in the sand, working it into piles with their hands. Every now and then they looked over at their father and mother under the shade of the trees. The woman was sitting close to the man with her legs crossed under her, the way she always sat when there wasn't a chair.

“Evan?” the woman said softly.

“I don't want to talk about it, Swan. I don't even want to
think
about it. One good day can make a lot of difference for them. This is their day. I want it to be
altogether
their day.”

“I do too, Evan. Can I say just one thing?”

“Let it be
altogether
their day, Swan.”

“I just want to say——”

“Don't say it, Swan.”

“You don't know what I want to say.”

“Whatever it is, don't say it. Not for a while. I just want to breathe the good air my kids are breathing.”

“I love you,” she said. “That's all I want to say.”

“I know, Swan,” he said. “Don't say anything more. Let it be their day. We'll eat the sandwiches when they're hungry.”

“I brought a bottle of wine for you,” she said.

She fished around in the basket, brought out the bottle. He sat up to get the cork out, then drank from the bottle.

“Thanks for remembering,” he said. He handed her the bottle.

The woman drank from the bottle, too, then pressed the cork back into it. She stretched out, not close to him, but close enough, so that no matter how softly he spoke or she spoke they could hear one another.

“God, what fools we are,” she said.

“Yes, Swan.”

“I think everybody must be crazy, and I can't understand why.”

“I'm not going to try to understand just now. I want to listen to Red and Eva, that's all.”

The woman listened with him. They didn't hear the words, they heard the voices. They listened to the voices of their children a long time, their own voices stilled by the sound of the voices of their children. The man lifted his head to notice their bodies. After a moment he let his head return to the rock, then closed his eyes, hearing their voices, the summer voices of his son and his daughter. He didn't open his eyes a long time, not sleeping, but not being altogether awake, either.

“What are you doing, Red?” Eva said.

“Looking at this sand,” Red said.

“Let me see.”

“Look at it. One piece.”

“Where is it?”

“In my hand. Can't you see it?”

“Where?”

“Here,” he said, putting a finger near it.

“I see it,” the girl said. “What are you looking at it for?”

“It's a piece of sand.”

“Let me see.” She looked again. “It's very small.”

“You can
see
it, though, can't you?”

“I see it,” Eva said. “I see it right there.” She looked at her own hands and saw that they were covered with sand. She brushed the sand off her hands, but saw that quite a few pieces hadn't gone. She looked at these carefully. “Look at mine,” she said. “How many have I got?”

“Let me see,” Red said. He looked at the sand stuck to the palm of her hand. “Well,” he said, “you've got a lot of them.”

“How many?”

“One, two, three,” Red said. “Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, and many more.”

Eva brushed more sand from her hand, then said, “How many now?”

He looked again, counted to himself, and said, “Nine.”

She brushed still more sand from her hand, then said, “Now how many?”

“Three.”

“How many
are
there?”

“Where?”

“In the whole world.”

“Well,” Red said, “there are hundreds of places like this, I suppose, with millions of pieces of sand in each place.”

“What are they doing there?”

“Nothing.”

“How many pieces of sky are there?”

“Sky isn't sand, Eva.”

“What is it?”

“Something else.”

“How many pieces of water are there?”

“Water isn't sand, either.”

“Water's rain,” Eva said. She looked at her hand again and noticed that it was again covered with sand. “How many pieces of people are there?”

“You think everything is sand,” Red said.

“No, I don't,” Eva said. “Look at the sand on my hand
now
. Every piece is a people. This one's a man, this one's a woman, this one's a boy, this one's a girl. And this one—— What's this one, Red?”

“Another man?”

“No, a dog,” Eva said. “And this one——What's this one?” She pointed to a large black grain of sand. “This one's my father,” she said.

“Let me see,” Red said. He looked at the grain of sand in her hand, then looked at his father lying on the blanket, his head resting on the rock. The girl looked at him, too. “Yes,” Red said. He pointed to a very bright grain of sand in her hand. “Who's that?”

“My mother,” Eva said. “This one's my father. This one's my mother. Right here in my hand. And there they are over there, under the trees. My father told me to sit in front beside him in the car, didn't he, Red?”

“Yes,” Red said.

“My father's a good man,” Eva said. “My father's a sad man.”

“Sad?” Red said.

“Oh, yes,” Eva said. “I know. When he carries me I look at his face. It's a sad face.” She got an idea suddenly, and Red saw her face darken. “What is
sad
, Red? What is that?”

“Well,” Red said. “You know what glad is. Well, sad is
not
glad.”

“Why is my father sad?”

“He's not
always
sad.”

“He's sad now,” Eva said. “Look at him.”

They both looked and Red said, “No. He's just resting, that's all.”

“I'm tired of sitting,” the girl said. “Let's go back into the water.”

They got up and went back into the water.

When the man sat up for another drink of wine he saw the woman with her dress tied above her knees holding their hands and wading with them about thirty yards down the river.

She was
trying
. She
was
beautiful when she tried. He had never seen her flesh so luminous. He took a long drink of the cold wine and watched her with her children, her own son and her own daughter, out of her own flesh. They were beautiful, the three of them were as beautiful as any mother and son and daughter had ever been, or could ever be. Their bodies were beautiful. He had never seen bodies so sweetly alive and so delightfully, so painfully beautiful. It's not them alone I love, he thought. I love her, too. I still love her.

When they came back he dried the girl while Swan dried the boy. They helped the children back into their clothes, then sat together and ate the sandwiches. She'd brought along a bottle of soda pop for each of them, which they loved on picnics, and they drank out of their bottles as he drank out of the bottle of wine. The sandwiches were thin and easy to eat. After the food Eva stretched out in front of the man. He put his arm around her, and held her hand. After a moment Red stretched out in front of his mother,
and she held his hand. Soon both of the children were asleep, and the woman said again, speaking softer than ever this time, “Evan?”

“No, Swan,” he said. “Listen to them breathing. That's all we've got to do now.”

They listened to the breathing of the sleeping boy and girl, and they heard the past breathe a sigh of regret. They heard the present breathe farewell.

“Evan?” the woman said.

“Yes, Swan.”

“Will you listen to what I say?”

“Yes, Swan.”

“If you love me, I will live. If you do not love me, I will not live. Can you love me? Can you love me
now
, Evan?”

“I don't know, Swan. I
want
to.”

“Any man can love when it's his alone, but only a man of love can love when it's not. Is any man a father at all who is not able to love when it is not his alone?”

He listened to her soft speech.

“Which of us knows who he is, Evan, except out of love?”

He listened, tempted, troubled, and tormented.

“Swan?”

“Yes, Evan.”

“There are many strangers to choose from. Let my strangers be my own. Let them be the ones I
believe
are my own. My own with your own, whoever they are. Let
this
stranger return. I
would
love, Swan, but I would fail, I would
have
to fail. It's early. There is help for such strangers.”