We have only the bottle of water I brought from the room. We’ll have to make good time before the sun comes up and the heat sets in. We begin running, away from Fernley, toward the highway that must be there—somewhere—but the sand is soft and deep, and soon we slow to a jog, then a labored walk. The hem of Alice’s dress drags in the sand.
Eventually, we reach a packed-dirt trail and begin walking along the flat surface, dotted with sharp pebbles. I give Alice my shoes and continue on in my socks. A light arcs across the sky, then another, and another. “A meteor shower,” Alice says. “It’s beautiful.” We each take a sip of water, careful not to spill a drop.
We walk for a long time. My legs ache, my feet are numb. I’m not sure how much time has passed when I notice that Alice has slowed and she is panting. Where is the highway? The stars have disappeared, the moon barely visible as night gives way to twilight. I unscrew the cap from the bottle and urge her to drink.
Alice takes a cautious gulp, then hands me the bottle and drops onto the rocky path. “Let’s just rest for a minute,” she says. I take a sip of water, carefully screw on the cap, and sit beside her.
“There will be a road somewhere, a gas station,” I say.
“Yes, there has to be.”
She puts her fingers on the back of my neck. I kiss her, long and soft, noticing with alarm that her lips are rough and chapped. A terrifying thought crosses my mind: Have we made the wrong choice? But when I reluctantly pull away, I realize that Alice is smiling.
This is the wonderful, complicated woman I married. The woman who lay beside me on the beach during our honeymoon on the Adriatic. The woman who stood in the lobby of the Grand Hotel, dancing slowly around me, singing in full voice the entirety of Al Green’s “Let’s Get Married.” The woman who sat in front of me at the pool on a warm night in Alabama, gazing at the ring I offered, and simply said, “Okay.”
I see in her a resolute determination to move forward, not back, a determination to embrace this strange journey, this marriage, and all of the surprises it holds. A determination to see it through to the end. For better or worse.
Here in the desert, I understand now what I should have seen a long time ago: Our love is strong. Our commitment is solid. I do not need The Pact to hold on to my wife. Yes, marriage is a vast, uncharted territory, and nothing is certain. Still, we will find our own way.
Suddenly, the sky fills with dazzling light as the enormous sun lifts over the horizon. I can hear the wind sweeping across the valley floor. Waves of heat begin to emanate from the earth. Minutes pass and we sit here motionless, transfixed. We are so tired, and there is so far to go. My mind is blank. The relentless sun and the dry air of this strange desert landscape seem to have washed away everything in my life that came before.
Soon, the desert will shimmer with unbearable heat and the sand will be scorching beneath our feet.
“Friend,” Alice says, standing. She reaches for my hand, and with surprising strength she lifts me up. Together, we begin walking.
For Kevin
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank my longtime agent and friend, Valerie Borchardt, as well as Anne Borchardt. You are both amazing.
Thanks again to my brilliant editor, Kate Miciak, for her vision and infectious enthusiasm. Thanks to Kara Welsh for supporting this book, and to the wonderful team at Penguin Random House: Julia Maguire, Kim Hovey, Cindy Murray, Janet Wygal, Quinne Rogers, Susan Turner, and Jennifer Prior.
Thanks to Jay Phelan and Terry Burnham for their thoughts and writings on gift-giving. Thanks to Bill U’Ren, of course. Thanks to Ivana Lombardi, Kira Goldberg, and Peter Chernin for believing in this story. Many thanks to the publishers and translators around the world who embraced this book; I hope to meet you someday. Thanks to Jolie Holland and Timothy Bracy for the lyrics.
The great Leonard Cohen used to address his audience with the word “Friends.” Much of this book was written with the album Live in London playing in the background.
Thanks to Kathie and Jack for a thousand small graces. Thanks to Oscar for his insights on plot. Above all, thanks to Kevin for more than two decades of unexpected gifts, including this one.
BY MICHELLE RICHMOND
The Girl in the Fall-Away Dress: Stories
Dream of the Blue Room
The Year of Fog
No One You Know
Hum: Stories
Golden State
The Marriage Pact
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHELLE RICHMOND is the author of The Girl in the Fall-Away Dress, Dream of the Blue Room, The Year of Fog, No One You Know, Hum: Stories, Golden State, and The Marriage Pact. She is the recipient of the Hillsdale Award for Fiction and the Catherine Doctorow Innovative Fiction Prize. A native of Alabama’s Gulf Coast, she makes her home with her husband and son in Northern California.
michellerichmond.com
@michellerichmon
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