by Ann Beattie
“What’s going on?” Big Bear yells to Estelle. It comes out a whisper. It occurs to Big Bear that this is some kind of joke. He would discuss with Estelle the possibility of the people at the party pulling a joke on them, but it’s too noisy to converse. Through the windstorm he hears, “Earthlings! We are visitors from a friendly planet” and wets his pants.
*
Big Bear hears Estelle in the kitchen, memorizing: “The heart is a hollow muscular pump surrounded by the pericardium.…” Just by the tone of her voice, he understands that there is no hope for the human body. His two children, Sammy and David, stand around the kitchen eating cookies and listening to their mother. They like it better than talking to Big Bear, which makes him brood. His children are interested in intestines, the liver, bones, tissue, the optic nerve. It makes Big Bear sick just to think about it. If he could think of an excuse to stop giving Sammy and David an allowance, he would.
Big Bear tilts back his La-Z-Boy reclining chair and examines his feet, which block his view of the television.
*
Big Bear gives his wife a valentine, shyly. He thinks that the saleswoman might have been making a fool of him when she told him that the huge card with the quilted taffeta heart and embossed cupids would get across his message best. The card cost two dollars and fifty cents. The woman was young and had aviator glasses and an ironic smile. He prides himself in knowing women, but lately he doesn’t trust any of them. Imagine Estelle enrolling in college, signing up for Mortuary Science. “Oh, this is lovely,” she said when Big Bear gave her the valentine. He didn’t want to mess it up in case there was something she could do with the card, so he just wrote his name on a little piece of paper and tucked it in the card. It falls out when Estelle opens it. He is standing right in front of her—she knows who it’s from—why did he even put the piece of paper in? She picks it up. “Love, Bear,” it says. “Oh, this is lovely,” she says. Valentine’s Day is not one of Big Bear’s favorite occasions. He always feels like a fool. His wife did not give him a valentine. She forgot, she says. But she doesn’t forget about the pericardium that surrounds that hollow muscular pump that no longer beats with love for him.
*
“Roll up your window,” Big Bear says. Estelle is rolling down her window. She is rolling it down to throw her cigarette away. A spaceship has landed in front of their Peugeot and she is rolling down her window.
“Earthlings! Like you, we have ears, but they are very sensitive. We can hear what you are saying and do not want you to be afraid.”
Big Bear stares. A round dome that seems to be made of something soft—foam rubber?—bobs slightly in front of them. The thing covers the whole road.
“We also read minds. There are three of us, and two of us speak English.”
“Oh, holy shit!” Big Bear says. “Estelle?”
She has rolled the window down and is letting the smoke from another cigarette she just lit blow out of the car.
“We will leave our spaceship, Bill and Estelle. Please do not worry.”
“God almighty,” Big Bear says. “Roll it up, Estelle.”
“What does it matter?” Estelle says. Big Bear reaches across her lap and rolls up the window. The car is still running, his foot is still on the brake. He thinks about trying to get around the spaceship. There is no way to get around it without driving into a marsh. Big Bear throws the car into reverse and starts backward, but when he does that a wind stops the car and slowly pulls it forward again.
“Please get out of your car,” the voice says.
There is a man standing in the road. He has on a shirt and a pair of slacks. His face is red. He waves.
“Come on,” Estelle says.
“Stay in the car, Estelle.”
“We need pictures of both of you,” the voice says.
Big Bear’s pants are wet. He cringes. Estelle has left the car and is walking toward the red-faced man. He thinks about stepping on the gas and crushing her, running into her from behind, not letting her have her way.
“Estelle?” he says to the empty seat.
“Please get out,” the voice says.
“I’m not getting out,” Big Bear says.
“We must have pictures. There are twenty exposures on the roll.”
“What do you need pictures for?”
“To take back, Bill. They sent us for pictures.”
“What are they going to do with the pictures?”
“I don’t know. I just take the pictures.”
Big Bear rubs his hand over his face. “I will never drink again,” he says. “Estelle?” he says.
“This is a random landing. We’ll never see you again. We need twenty pictures, and we would like to be your friends before we leave. Please get out of the car.”
Estelle is talking to the man. He rolls down his window and puts his head out. It smells damp. There is a lot of fog. The lights have been turned out on the spaceship, and it is hard to tell just how large it is. It looked huge in the sky over the car, but it doesn’t look that big now. Just big enough to block the road. Big Bear puts the car in reverse again. Just as before, a stream of air draws him forward.
“We found you by accident. You’ll do fine for the pictures, though. If you’ll please get out.”
Big Bear wants to go home and go to sleep. Big Bear wants to go home to throw away all his liquor. He wants his children. His children!
“What are you going to do to me?” he asks again.
“Take your picture,” the man says.
Disgusted, Big Bear opens the door and gets out. He walks forward. The man shakes his hand and introduces himself as Bobby. Estelle smiles at him.
“You’re drunk,” Big Bear says to Estelle.
“That’s okay,” the man says. “If you two could stand by your car?”
Big Bear doesn’t want to turn his back on the man.
“The other ones?” Big Bear asks.
“Donald is playing a game inside. He’s tired of coming to Earth.”
“What game?” Big Bear asks suspiciously, not sure why he’s suspicious.
“Scrabble. He was worried about using the word ‘toque.’ That’s a foreign word, isn’t it?”
“Toe?”
“Toque.”
“I’m drunk as a skunk,” Big Bear says.
*
“Bear, you’ll never make it.”
“We’ll make it.”
“Why should you even try to make it?” Laura says. Laura is the wife of the man whose party Big Bear and Estelle have attended.
“Big Bear can make it!” Big Bear yells.
“You’re a big oaf,” Laura says, and walks away. That leaves her husband to get their coats.
“If we don’t make it, I’ll end up the same place I’d be working tomorrow anyway,” Estelle says. Estelle is more drunk than Big Bear, and Big Bear is focusing on his feet to stay alert.
“What are you ashamed of?” Estelle asks Big Bear.
“Nothing. What are you talking about?” He fears that another one of her honesty sessions is coming on—a talk about how she wishes she had never married him or had children.
“You’re staring at the floor, Bear. What’s the matter with you?”
“He’s drunk,” their host says good-naturedly. Big Bear and Paul, their host, were in the service together. It was Paul’s idea to keep calling him Big Bear when they got back to America. In Japan, a geisha came up with the name. Laura will have no part of it. She calls him Alvin. Big Bear holds Estelle’s coat, happy to get away from the party.
The Peugeot is parked in Paul’s driveway. Death. Death everywhere. Japan, Viet Nam, Mortuary Science.
“What’s the matter with you, Bear?” Estelle asks. “You’re not really too drunk to drive, are you?”
*
“Daddy! Did you know that there was a Big Bear City in California?”
“No.”
“I found out in geography. My teacher said to ask if it was named for you.�
�
“I’ve never met your teacher. How did she know I was called Big Bear?”
“I told her.”
“Well, stop telling everybody. That’s just a joke, you know.”
“But that’s what everybody calls you.”
“Go watch TV or something.”
“What are you two talking about?” Estelle calls from the kitchen.
“Geography,” Big Bear answers.
“Mom, there’s a place called Big Bear City in California.”
“I don’t want to hear any more about it,” Big Bear says.
“What are you so grumpy about?” Estelle asks, standing in the kitchen doorway. “You’re as grumpy as a bear.”
“Oh, come off it. You two leave me alone.”
“Why is that always what you want? Why can’t anybody talk to you?” Estelle says.
“Leave me alone,” Big Bear says, and tilts himself out of view in his La-Z-Boy reclining chair.
*
“I thought jumping rope with the intestine was a joke,” Estelle says. “That’s not what you’re doing, is it? It’s not really an intestine?”
“No, there are no cows on Mars, so we consider your milk a delicacy. We have alcohol. Juniper berries grow in profusion. It’s really very pretty, all the bushes, in addition to the gin it produces.”
“Are they coming out?” Big Bear asks, nodding toward the spaceship.
“We’ve been on so many missions that they just don’t care any more.”
“What do they come for, then?”
“There has to be a certain number aboard.”
“What for?”
“I never asked. We keep busy, though.”
“What do you do?”
“Well, Donald likes to play games. He got some jigsaw puzzles the last time we were here, and he never tires of that, particularly a round puzzle that’s a pizza.”
“He just plays games?”
“They drink milk if we stop for it. We have to stop in the woods, of course, and there usually aren’t any stores. They loved Maine. There were stores in the middle of nowhere.”
“We love Maine,” Estelle says.
“It’s awfully nice,” the spaceman says.
“Are you going to take more pictures?” Big Bear asks.
“I’m just trying to think … where would be a good spot?”
“Can’t we just stand by the car?”
“I think they’ll want variety.”
Estelle smiles. “Would you like me to take off my clothes?” she asks.
“She’s kidding,” Big Bear says.
“I thought we’d take those later,” the spaceman says.
“We’re not taking our clothes off,” Big Bear says.
“I’ll put you under a spell, Bill,” the spaceman says.
“You can’t put me under any spell.”
“Please try not to be hostile. I personally have no interest in taking nude photographs.”
“Then let’s leave that crap out.”
“I can’t leave it out. They said to get some.”
“Tell them it was foggy and it didn’t turn out”
“I’ll undress,” Estelle says.
“Don’t you think it’s a little cold for nude posing?” Big Bear says.
“Yes,” the spaceman says. “Maybe we should go to your place.”
*
Sleep soundly, sweet ones. Don’t wake up and want water, or you might see the spacemen in the kitchen. You don’t like it when your brother plays with your special toys … how would you like it if a spaceman was tapping pegs through holes and squares through squares? You wouldn’t like it. It’s good you’re a sound sleeper. One of the spacemen is in the bathroom. Imagine walking into the bathroom and seeing a spaceman urinating.
*
“I said I’m not too drunk to drive, and I’m not.”
“You’re no judge. Laura is probably right.”
“Side with me. I’m your husband.”
“In effect I am siding with you. If you had an accident …”
“Big Bear doesn’t have accidents.”
“like John Wayne?”
“What are you taunting me for? You want to get home or don’t you?”
“It might be better if I drove.”
“It might be better, but you’re not going to do it.”
“All right. But drive slowly. There’s so much fog.”
“This piece of crap car isn’t helping us any. The thing’s so light, a wind would blow it over. When are you going to give up and let me turn it in for another one?”
“I thought flashy cars didn’t matter to you.”
“What did I say about flash? I just said a car—a decent car.”
“This is a decent car. It was driven by my brother before he died in that horrible war.”
“Where did you get his underwear from in the first place?”
“I don’t want to talk about my brother.”
“I don’t want that underwear in my drawer. Where the hell did you get your brother’s underwear?”
“Where do you think? From his drawer.”
“Well, why did you take that, if it isn’t prying?”
“It’s not as though I just took that”
“What else did you take?”
“I took his things. I don’t want to talk about my brother, Bear.”
“What things? Tell me or I’m not going to pull out of the driveway, and Laura can wave and scowl all night.”
“I took shirts and sweaters. Satisfied?”
The car pulls out of the driveway. Big Bear despises the car.
“Why haven’t I ever seen them?”
“I put them away for the boys.”
“They don’t want your brother’s stuff. By the time it fits them they wouldn’t wear anything that unfashionable.”
“I am not aware of radical style changes in men’s sweaters.”
“I want the underwear to go! You keep the shirts, I’ll throw out the underwear.”
“You keep your hands off my brother’s things.”
“You put it in my drawer and order me not to touch it. Why didn’t you put it in your own damn drawer?”
“It makes me sad.”
“Then get rid of it.”
“Can we please talk about something else? I thought you liked my brother.”
“I didn’t have anything against your brother, but I don’t want his underwear in my drawer.”
“If you keep driving this fast, you’ll die before it can be removed.”
“Don’t change the subject. The subject is underwear. You can keep it under your pillow if you want, but get it out of my drawer.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t feel guilty,” Big Bear says. “Nobody would put up with that.”
In front of their car something hovers in the sky, but it’s too close to be a plane. It’s shapeless, which is funny, because it’s close enough to figure out a shape. A mound. A mound?
“What’s that?” Big Bear asks.
“Maybe we should get the uncomfortable pictures over with, and then we could take a few more by the car, or over there.”
“Oh, cut it out,” Big Bear says. “No nudie shots.”
“I’m a family man, too, Bill. I’d like to just simplify matters and get home to my family. Could you drop your pants?”
“No.”
Estelle is unbuttoning her coat.
“No,” Big Bear says to her, and grabs her hand. She tries to get it away from him.
Estelle is shrugging her dress down, smiling at the spaceman.
The camera clicks.
“How old are your children?” she asks.
“That’s enough!” Big Bear says. “Can we go home?”
“I’d like the others, and then you can go on your way.”
“It’s too God damn cold,” Big Bear says.
“Let’s take them to our place, Bear. We could give them milk and they could take the other pic
tures.”
“That would be fine,” the spaceman says.
“You’re not invited,” Big Bear says.
“I was just invited.” The spaceman smiles politely. “I’ll get the others.”
“I thought they had to stay with the ship.”
“I’m doing you a favor, Bill. Would you rather stay here longer?”
Big Bear shivers. What if Sammy and David drank the last of the milk.
*
The other spacemen are named Donald and Fred. There is something wrong with Fred; his wrists are bent funny, and his mouth wrinkles when he tries to smile, which is all of the time. “He’s retarded,” Donald says. Good God, Big Bear thinks. Won’t Fred hear Donald?
“We’ve been stuck with him on the last seven missions,” Donald says.
They are walking up Big Bear’s front walk. They are inside the house. The babysitter has gone to sleep in the spare bedroom. She turned off all the lights. Big Bear can’t see. Donald has a flashlight. He turns it on.
“Thanks,” Big Bear says.
He heads for the light switch. Fred, it seems, is not only retarded, but violent. He struggles with Donald and wins. Fred has the flashlight. He pokes it into his mouth. His cheeks light up. No one tries to take the flashlight away from Fred. “I’ve had it up to here with him,” Donald says, but no one tries to get the flashlight. Big Bear has located the light switch, so it’s okay. Sort of okay. Fred’s cheeks are orange.
*
“Did you know that this was called mooning in the sixties? College kids did it.”
The spaceman snaps away. Estelle is making a fool of herself.
*
“What are you going to bring me, Daddy?” the spaceman’s son asks.
“You’re greedy.”
“What are you going to bring me?”
“What do you want?”
“More goldfish.”
“The damn things die. I bring them all the way back and they’re dead in a week.”
“I told you. That’s because I need a real aquarium with a pump and a filter.”
