by Tim O'Brien
Black Sun
They pulled into Grand Marais in the early evening. A snowstorm had made the driving treacherous and they’d each taken turns at the wheel, peering into the storm and trying to follow the narrow track of Route 61 along Lake Superior. Even so, it was a nice drive. The last twenty miles, Harvey sat with Addie in the back seat, drinking wine and singing Christmas carols and teaching everyone army marching songs. The storm let up a few miles outside Grand Marais.
It wasn’t a big town. A lighted banner welcomed them to the Winter Carnival. Most of the shops were closed.
“Awfully quiet,” Addie said.
Harvey laughed. “Here maybe. Wait’ll you see the hotel. They go crazy. It’s all at the hotel anyway.”
“It’s a lovely town, isn’t it?” Grace said. “Doesn’t it remind you of something in Europe? I don’t know what.”
“France,” Harvey said.
“I think that’s it.”
The hotel was set off in the forest two miles from town. Seeing it again reminded Perry of the times they’d come with the old man for the races. It was a fine old monstrosity that grew on itself like a cancer, gabled and tiered and decadent from the days of the timber barons, red wreaths in the windows and a dozen chimneys perched on layered roofs. The windows were all lighted and the parking lot was full. Happy music played from loudspeakers.
Perry parked alongside the road and two boys came to help with the baggage. Harvey carried the skis inside, then went off to check on starting times for the morning races. The lobby was full of music and people and colored sweaters. Everyone seemed young.
“I love it,” Addie said. They found a place to sit near the fireplace. “Makes me feel rich. Really. Doesn’t it make you feel stinking rich?” Watching as she smiled at the crowds, Perry recalled how young she was. “Love it, love it,” she said.
Harvey came back with keys for the rooms.
“All set,” he said. “We’re up on the second floor. I vote we have a fast supper then join one of these parties. How’s that?”
The crowds were very loud. Somewhere off the lobby a rock band was playing and the drums thumped like cannon through the hotel. Harvey led them through a wide corridor and up a flight of stairs. The rock music seemed to follow.
In its way, the hotel was rather elegant. Originally it had been owned by a prominent St. Paul lumber family, and the fact showed in the fine timber work and beamed ceilings and the shadowing smells of old wood. Native fish hung on the walls with huge eyes and silver bellies. Except for the lounge and first-floor restaurant, which were carpeted, the floors were all polished oak, and the guest rooms were large and livable.
“Ten minutes,” Harvey said, handing him a key. “First supper, then we do some hard partying.”
“All right. Knock when you’re ready.”
“Ten minutes.” Harvey followed Addie into the adjoining room. Perry listened for a moment, heard them laugh about something, told himself to wise up and forget it. He opened the door and watched while Grace tested the taps and bed.
“Like it?”
Grace smiled.
“Better hurry then. Harvey says he’s giving us ten minutes.”
Grace bathed in the cramped porcelain tub, then Perry showered and they got dressed and listened to the radio until Addie came by with a bottle of wine.
“Got waylaid,” she grinned. “Rather, got laid on the way. Harvey’s still dressing.” She held out the bottle. “You want some of this?” She wore a white band in her hair.
“No.”
“Don’t be a sore loser. Here, drink up.” She poured some into two glasses.
When Harvey came they went downstairs for a late supper. The restaurant was full of music and young people and noise. Harvey and Addie were eager to get through supper, and afterwards they hurried off towards the sound of drums. Grace seemed glad they were gone. Perry noticed she’d developed the nervous habit of playing with her wedding ring, all the while smiling and nodding and agreeing. He told himself to be kind.
They spent a long time over coffee, then took a stroll through the hotel, then went up to bed. Grace wore a new nightgown she’d bought for the trip, and Perry told her it was sexy, and they listened to the radio until she fell asleep. For a time he felt fine, lying still, listening to the muffled drums and Grace’s breathing, not thinking about anything. Then he started thinking. He got dressed and went downstairs.
The bar was crowded and loud. Feeling guilty and lonely and a little foolish, he stood in the doorway until a man said he would either have to pay a dollar or find another place to stand, and Perry gave the fellow a dollar and went in. It was a mistake. Except for the dance floor and a section of the bar, the room was dark as a cave, bristling with ski sweaters and tight pants and blond hair, frantic noisy boisterous crazy sex.
He moved towards the bar. It was always the safest place. Three cash registers were busy and he waited in line, keeping his head down, scolding himself for not having the sense to stay away. He felt old. Bars always did it for him. Eventually he got a beer and retreated to one of the dark tables. He promised to drink the beer and get the hell out.
Harvey and Addie were dancing in the center of the crowd, and he couldn’t help watching. They looked happy. He felt rotten, but he couldn’t help watching. Some luck, he thought. A yellow-sweatered girl passed by, smiling at him, and he felt a little better, and in a few minutes she passed by again, then stopped and came back. He couldn’t see much but the yellow sweater.
“What do they do with an amputated leg?” she said.
“What?”
“This guy I was just dancing with asked me that,” she said. “I didn’t know the answer. Amputated legs. What in the world do they do with them?”
“I don’t know. I give up.”
“Don’t you know?”
“No. Is it a riddle?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “This guy I was dancing with … Do they bury them? Or maybe they just burn them. You aren’t a doctor, I guess.”
He said he wasn’t. He saw Addie and Harvey were still on the dance floor.
“Oh, I thought maybe you were a doctor,” said the girl. The yellow sweater seemed to swallow her. “You kind of look like a doctor, you know.”
“I’m unemployed,” Perry said. He had to shout.
The girl nodded sympathetically. “I know. Times are bad. This guy I was dancing with, he had the same problem almost.” She looked about the room and pointed at a blue and gold sweater. “That’s him,” she said. “I suppose you don’t know his name.”
“No.” He tried to think of something else to say. It wasn’t necessary. She sat down. A moustached waiter brought over two mugs of beer, and the girl said she worked in Duluth for the port authority, and Perry nodded, and the girl told him how she’d been coming to the winter games for years and years and years, but that actually she’d never tried skiing herself, and that her home was originally in Chicago, but that she hated the place and never went back except for holidays, and that she was here with a darling friend who never got in the way, and that she loved meeting new people and that this was the perfect place for it, and that she wore her wedding ring only for nostalgia because the divorce had been more than a year ago and she’d forgotten all about him. The yellow sweater swallowed her up.
“You want to dance?” Perry said.
“No.” As though hearing a dinner bell, the girl checked her watch.
“What do you want to do?”
“Oh, you know.” Vaguely, she turned her finger in the smoky air. “Meet people, that sort of thing.” She looked about the room, saw someone and waved. It was the blue and gold sweater. He came over smiling. She got up to dance with him. “Thanks for the nice talk,” she said. “You’re a nice man.”
“Bye,” Perry said. It happened all the time.
He got up to go, but Addie and Harvey were already at the table.
“Wow,” Addie said. “We thought you scored, what happened?” She was a lit
tle drunk. She seemed even younger when she was drunk. She took off her shoes and put them on the table. “Tell us what happened.”
“Nothing. I came down for a drink. How’s the party?”
“Spectacular. You had me furious,” she grinned. “Give me your beer. You had me furious with … I don’t know what. Tell him, Harvey.”
“Jealous,” Harvey said.
“That’s it!”
“I’m going to bed.”
“No. It’s a party.”
“Okay. Tell me all about it in the morning.”
“But it is … it is morning. We have to dance. You had me furious.” She pulled him up, and they went out and danced, then they drank a pitcher of beer and he went up to bed.
Grace was awake. She didn’t say anything but he could feel it. Some luck, he thought. He kissed her and lay back and listened to the drums pounding downstairs, wondering how it would have felt to have danced with the yellow-sweatered girl, remembering how it felt to dance with Addie, the way she danced with her pelvis out, barefoot and saying how furious she was, the band playing louder until it stopped and just the drummer played, how everyone stopped dancing and clapped in time to his drumming, then how the guitar joined in and then the electric piano, then how everyone began dancing again, the way Addie danced.
Much later, Harvey woke him. “Come on, come on. We’re partying in our room. Big frigging party, must have you there. Addie’s kidnapped a genuine Olympic cross-country skier and we’re holding him for ransom. It’s a big frigging party. A sad spectacle.”
“Are you drunk? What time is it?”
Harvey threw on the light. Grace rolled over and pushed her face into the blankets.
“No, you have to come. It’s a fine spectacle of a party.”
Reluctantly, Perry dressed and followed into the adjoining room. A radio was playing loud music.
“This is Danny or Dan or Daniel, one of those names.” Harvey pointed out a handsome boy asleep on their bed. Addie was wiping his brow with a cloth.
“He’s a little sick,” Addie said. “Hi, sleepy. You’ve missed a fine party. Did Harvey tell you? We’ve missed you. I think we’re all raving drunk now. Harvey, see if there’s wine for your brother. Look in the bathroom.”
“I thought you people went to bed. What time is it anyway?”
“Oh, we went to bed and then got up, you know very well how those things go, up and down, in and out, all that. Anyway, this is Daniel. He’s going to be skiing in the Olympics, did Harvey tell you? He is. I wish I could wake him up. Isn’t he some handsome Olympic skier? He got a little sick and threw up in the bathtub but now he’s all right. Did you find your brother some wine?”
Harvey handed him a full glass. “This … wine is slightly used but it’s vouched for as very good wine.”
“Oh, Harvey. Harvey, you’re a boor. Behave. Get your brother something respectable to sit on, that chair. And behave yourself.”
The boy awakened and got up and went into the bathroom.
“I think he’s sick or something,” Harvey said. “Just a kid, you know. Some Olympic champion he’ll be.”
“Had his picture in a ski magazine,” said Addie.
“Salute him.” Harvey lifted his glass and spilled some. “Salute. Addie’s been fawning all over him. She gets that way.”
“Behave yourself,” she said. “Paul, do sit down. We can keep the party going.”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“Never! No.” Addie sat on a blanket cross-legged, struggling to pull the cork from a fresh wine bottle.
“Victory for Daniel!”
“Behave.”
The boy came out of the bathroom. He looked a little better.
“Daniel, this is another of my great friends. Now, you just sit still, you can’t have any more of this.”
“Victory for Daniel!” shouted Harvey.
“Hush up, you. Daniel, this is Paul. Daniel’s going to be skiing in the Olympics, aren’t you? Daniel’s all the way from St. Paul. Everybody sit down now.”
The boy was white-faced. Addie took his dirty sweater and wrung it out and hung it over the radiator. The boy sat on the bed then he lay back. “I believe Daniel’s very drunk,” said Harvey. “I do believe so. Got to have more stamina. Stamina and wine. Wine and stamina. Isn’t this a great party? Just me and you and Daniel and stamina and wine. Make a fine group. And Addie, too. Addie, aren’t you going to tuck Daniel in? Addie’s found an Olympic skier. A sad spectacle.”
“Harvey, behave yourself. I think we should all be quiet.”
“Stellar human being,” Harvey said. He was drunk. “Everybody’s stellar. Why aren’t we asleep? Bad races tomorrow. Wonder what time it is.”
“It’s dawn,” Perry said. “I’m going to bed, so you all have a nice party.”
“No!” Addie said. “Here, I have to get Daniel back to his room. Somebody has to help me.”
“Not me.”
“Victory for Daniel!” muttered Harvey. He was sitting on the floor. The radio was still going. Addie got the boy up. “Come on now, we’ll get you to a bed. Be a good boy. Isn’t he a fine-looking lad, Olympic material all the way?” She led him to the door. Perry held it open for her, and Addie guided the boy down the hall.
Harvey was slumped on the floor.
“Better get into bed,” Perry said.
“Think I’ll sleep here. I’m fine. A fine party. A stellar lad, that Daniel. Olympic material in his blond hair, don’t you think? Stellar. Wine and stamina.”
Perry helped his brother undress.
“Yes, that Daniel is a fine lad. He’s a fine, fine, fine … boy. Daniel is his name. Did you meet him?”
“Yes,” Perry said.
“Stellar lad.”
“Take off your shirt, Harv.”
“Addie’s fallen for him. Poor fella. You got my shoes? Can’t find them anywhere.”
“They’re under the bed. Lie down now, Harv.”
“What time is it?”
“Dawn and you have to race tomorrow.”
“Dawn. Good God. Gotta brush my teeth.”
“Just lie down. I’m going back into bed now.”
“Bed, my God. Gotta brush my teeth. Breath’ll stink in the morning if I don’t brush ’em.” Harvey went into the bathroom and closed the door. Perry heard him vomit, then the water ran in the sink and he listened to Harvey brush his teeth.
“Much better now,” Harvey said. He sat on the bed. “Stellar human being. Why can’t everyone be so stellar?”
“I don’t know,” Perry said. “You all right now?”
“Good God, yes. Do you have my shoes?”
“Under the bed. Good night.”
“Dawn. Night. Addie fell for the stellar chap.”
“I know it. You’ll be better.”
“She falls and falls. She falls for everyone. Why can’t I be stellar?”
“You’re a one-eyed stellar fellow.”
“War hero. I’m a bloody war hero. You know that?”
“I know it.”
“Scary. Did you know I lost an eye over there? Do you know how it happened?”
“No.”
“Me neither. Turn the bloody light off. Can’t even remember. Everything was so dark, cow shit and mildew. Addie and that stellar … Some holiday.”
Perry woke up with a toothache. He pushed his tongue against the raw tooth. Warmed it. He dressed, took two aspirin, and washed his face. There was a note from Grace; she was having breakfast. He shaved and pulled on a sweater and hurried downstairs. It was nearly noon. A blackboard stood in the center of the lobby, posting times for the first heats. Harvey was listed for an afternoon heat, and his own name was down for the last race of the day.
He went to the starting table and scratched his name from the races. He was too tired. The starter gave him a ten-dollar refund, and Perry walked up to the restaurant and found Grace and Addie having breakfast. Addie looked fresh.
“Some party last ni
ght,” she said. “I was just telling Grace about it. Do you want some coffee? I think they’ve stopped serving by now.”
Perry called the waiter over and ordered a fresh pot. His tooth was still aching.
Later they walked outside. After the night snow, the day was bright. Grace took his arm and they walked the half-mile to the racecourse. Addie went off to wish good luck to her new friend Daniel.
Balloons were tied to spruce boughs and the crowd was young and happy. The racecourse ran along an eleven-mile stretch of the Gunflint Trail, emptying on to the flat snow of a small lake. Iron poles were sunk into the ice and between them was stretched a cord with red and green banners dangling, the finish line. A heat was in progress on the trail and a loudspeaker blared out the positions and numbers of the racers. The crowd cheered and moaned and clapped for the unseen skiers, watching for when they would break on to the lake for the final half-mile. The day was brilliant. Children were building a snow fort behind the finish line, and further back were two large warming houses that sold beer and hot coffee and sandwiches, and when the loudspeakers weren’t announcing races they played happy music. Perry caught a glimpse of Addie and the boy, then they disappeared in the crowd. It was a bright day. He smelled hot popcorn. Soon the heat of skiers broke out of the woods and on to the lake. By the naked eye, they did not appear to be moving at all, spots of color crouched low, so slow in progress that to someone not looking for them they would have been missed entirely, tiny patches of color that instead of moving appeared rather to expand and grow, the sun behind them giving the scene a fluid unsteadiness. Perry stood and watched them come. The loudspeaker announced the leader as Number Nine, heat four of the championship flight. A few people cheered, likely Number Nine’s family or friends. Gradually the skiers came into focus. Then quickly. Then the sound of their skiing. Number Nine held a great lead. He skied with long professional strides, good rhythm.
