by John Casey
“It’s not Elsie,” Deirdre said. “Look at the picture. She’s way taller. And the free women are at war with the men. They only use their seed to repopulate the tribe.”
Elsie went rigid. She couldn’t look at anyone.
Jack tapped his fork on his glass. “This is not the order of business.”
Sally said, “Jack, I think it’s time for the fireworks. People are coming out onto the lawn.”
“Are they meadows? I mean members. They can wait. I have remarks.” Jack stood up and stared at a sheet of paper. “Who do we have here? I can’t quite read …”
Sally said, “It really is time for the fireworks. Why don’t you just say how glad you are that everybody’s here?”
“Because people talked.” Jack took a breath and said, “Now, then.” He furrowed his brow. “Odd. To say ‘now’ and then say ‘then.’ ” He sat down. “My wife is right. Can’t go wrong saying my wife is right.”
Elsie looked up in time to see Jack’s head sink into Mary’s shoulder. His mouth was open, so it looked as if he was biting her.
Somebody laughed. Sally said, “Jack, stop that!”
Dick got up behind Jack. He straightened him, one arm under Jack’s sagging side, the other cradling his head. Dick looked at Elsie, said her name. She rose from her chair. Something terrible might be going on, but she drifted toward Dick’s voice.
Dick said, “He ever take a turn like this? He look anything like Miss Perry did?”
She felt Jack’s cheek. It was cool and clammy. She couldn’t find a pulse in his neck, but he was slumped so his collar was almost up to his chin. She said, “Yes.”
Deirdre came up behind them and said, “I’m an EMT,” but the rest of what she was saying was drowned out by an explosion. Then a series of smaller bangs. Elsie saw all the faces turn red and then white and then blue. Shadows crept up the walls, then faded.
Dick said to Elsie, “Let’s get him out of here. There’s some kind of sofa in the front hall. Grab my hands under his butt.”
There was another explosion, followed by a shower of green stars whistling and shimmering. The people on the porch and lawn oohed and aahed. Elsie’s head brushed Dick’s shoulder as they joined their hands. Dick’s grip was matter-of-fact. He said, “Deirdre, pull the chair out of the way.”
Sally was standing in the doorway. Her face was pale and dazed. Elsie’s pleasure at Dick’s choosing her, at their touching each other, was doused. She’d thought shame was what she’d felt when Walt put her on display. That was embarrassment. Thinking of her own pleasure while her sister was feeling terrible was shame.
Sally followed them as they moved through the empty dining room. Deirdre shoved chairs out of their way, then came back to the open porch and yelled, “Is there a doctor here? We need a doctor in the front hall.”
They lowered Jack onto a sofa. Sally said, “Shall I call the hospital?”
“I think you’ll want to stay with him, Mrs. Aldrich,” Dick said. “We’ll see to calling.”
Deirdre was just getting back, made a quick turn to the phone at the front desk. She raised her voice over a ripple of rockets. “Sawtooth Point! The big white building. You can’t miss it, it’s lit up like the Fourth of July.”
Sally said, “It is the Fourth of July.” She said to Elsie, “Ask someone to call the gatehouse. Tell them to keep the gate open.”
A man in a seersucker suit appeared. He said, “I’m a doctor.”
“Of course you are, Henry,” Sally said. “I’m afraid something’s the matter with Jack.”
Elsie went to the front desk, then came back beside Dick. She said, “We should go out … No, you should go out front to flag the ambulance. I think I should stay with Sally.”
“Good. And think of something else for Deirdre to do. She’s about to get on your sister’s nerves.”
“I’ll tell her to keep people away. She’ll like that.”
Dick said, “That’ll do it.”
It was all right to think of him remembering the two of them doing this together. Just for one more second. All right for her to think of him seeing her as quick and good. She nodded and turned away.
When she got back to Sally, Sally held her hand. Sally started to say something, but there was a boom that rattled the windows. And then the big finish, rocket after rocket, without rhythm, an idiocy of noise. Sally put her hands over Jack’s ears. The EMTs were suddenly there. Sally held Elsie’s arm, and the two of them followed the gurney. The EMT said, “Only room for one of you,” but Sally wasn’t letting go of Elsie. The EMT said, “Okay, hop in. It’s just down the road.”
chapter ninety
Elsie and Sally sat side by side in the South County Hospital waiting room.
“I feel terrible,” Sally said. “I’ve been so mean to him. Do you think that had something to do with this?”
“No,” Elsie said. “Absolutely not.”
Sally nodded slowly but then said, “How do you know?”
“Back when Miss Perry had her stroke, I talked to her doctors about—”
“A stroke? You think he’s had a stroke?”
“No. I don’t know. I mean, it could be a lot of things. If the doctor doesn’t come out soon, I’ll go in.”
“No,” Sally said. “Stay here. Please.”
After a while Sally said, “There seem to be a lot of people here in the middle of the night.”
“It’s the Fourth of July. That kid who just came in with his hand in the air. Probably a firecracker or a bottle rocket. Maybe a bonfire. Kids light bonfires on the beach. When they run out of fireworks, they pick up burning sticks and throw them into the ocean. I used to chase them away from the nature sanctuary.
“People are staring at us,” Sally said. “I wish we weren’t so dressed up.”
“I don’t think they’re staring. They’re just looking around.”
“Maybe I should take off my pearls.”
“I don’t think it’s the pearls. They’re just curious, wondering if we’re sisters.”
“Well, we are,” Sally said. “I couldn’t bear this without you.”
And then the doctor was there, inviting them to an office, gesturing “after you” with his clipboard.
“I see nothing immediately grave here,” he said. “Nothing immediately grave. We’ll keep him overnight. I’d like to run some more tests, talk it over with a colleague.”
“But something’s wrong,” Sally said. “What is it? Does it have a name?”
“I’ll be more certain later on, but it looks like a transient ischemic episode.”
“ ‘Transient,’ ” Sally said. “So whatever it is, it’s come and gone.”
“Well, yes and no. It’s certainly a warning sign. Things will be clearer when his blood alcohol goes down. In any case, we’ll talk about a different regimen. Get the blood pressure down. Is there a lot of stress in his life?”
“There have been some difficult moments in the last few months.” The doctor, although junior enough to have drawn a Fourth of July shift, knew to wait. Sally added, “Well, yes. Our son was on a ship that sank. Jack was taking land from people whom he forced to sell, so he was quarreling with practically everyone. And I’m afraid his big reconciliation banquet didn’t go smoothly.” The doctor waited again. Sally said, “I don’t know why he can’t be happy with Sawtooth the way it is. I’m afraid he’s one of those people who always wants more. I actually asked him once why he wanted more, and he said, ‘What’s wrong with wanting more?’ Some time later I told him.”
Elsie was surprised—she didn’t think Sally let herself see things so plainly.
“More,” the doctor said. “If he wants more years, he’ll have to change.”
Sally sighed. The doctor said, “I’m going to give you something to help you sleep.”
“Not right now,” Sally said. “I’ve got to get home.”
“A pill,” the doctor said. “After you get home.”
Sally laughed. “Of cours
e. All this is making me a little dull.”
Elsie said, “Come home with me. They’ll still be roistering around at Sawtooth.”
“Oh, Elsie, how will we get there? We don’t have a car.”
“My car’s at Sawtooth. It won’t take me fifteen minutes to walk there.”
“All alone? In the dark? Along Route One, with all those cars with men in them? You’re not wearing your pistol anymore. I’ll come, too.”
“So you can lash them with your pearls.” That got a tilt of a smile out of the doctor. Sally didn’t think it was funny. Elsie said, “Never mind. We’ll hardly be on Route One. Once we get across, we can cut through the old Hazard place.”
When they got to the stone wall at the edge of the Sawtooth property, Sally stopped and said, “What’s going to happen to all this? What will I have to do?”
Elsie said, “Mary Scanlon runs the restaurant, Eddie’s doing all the outside stuff, Tom Pierce can run the waterfront.” But before she was through saying this she saw that Sally wanted something else. Elsie said, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. I can get you help. You heard the doctor, nothing grave. All Jack has to do is stay in the hospital and then live sensibly. All you have to do for a while is stay with me.”
Sally began to cry. Elsie held her until what seemed like the last sob.
“Oh dear,” Sally said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be fine now. Except my shoes hurt.”
“Take them off. It’s all lawn from here on.”
When they got in the car, Elsie started to tell Sally the story JB told her, but Sally was caving in. She was all thumbs trying to fasten the seat belt. Elsie did it for her, and Sally leaned back and closed her eyes. It was only as they reached the steep part of the driveway and the tips of the overhanging branches swept the sides of the car that she came to. “Honestly, Elsie. You live in a briar patch. People will think you’re some kind of eccentric recluse.”
“You sound like Miss Perry. She once called me a ragamuffin just because I had bark on my shirt. From carrying in her firewood, I might add.”
“Oh! You forgot her picture. Jack meant for you to have it as a present. He meant to give all those pictures as presents. That’s something I can do tomorrow. If Jack’s all right. I don’t think I could do it if … There’s three of Rose. I know one’s for you, another for the Pierces. Who else?”
“Probably Mary Scanlon.”
“Of course.”
Elsie thought it might be occurring to Sally that these were people Jack had bullied in his landgrab, but Sally said, “Rose. You all have Rose in common. It’s wonderful, really. I worried at first things might be difficult for her, but look at her now.”
Elsie pulled up by the front door. Going around to help Sally undo her seat belt saved her from having to say anything. Sally said, “I can manage. It’s just that it buckles in the wrong place. And think of Jack Junior, who started out with everything and now he’s ashamed to show his face in South County. I’m not saying that out of jealousy, just saying how strange … Oh, there’s a note on your door.”
Elsie switched on the outside light. The note was from May.
I’m taking Rose home with me. I don’t want Rose to be alone, but I don’t want you to worry about Rose not being there. She’s fine, just kind of tired and upset, which is natural. I hope your brother-in-law is alright. In the morning Rose is going to help pack some things, so she’ll either be at our old house or moving things to Eddie’s. We won’t call in case you had a long night at the hospital.
Sincerely, May Pierce
P.S. I meant to thank you for your day of work in my field.
The P.S. made Elsie light-headed. Did May somehow have an intuition how that day had ended? Elsie put her hand on the wall. After a breath, she thought, No, otherwise not this breezy note …
Sally said, “Is something wrong?” She took the note and scanned it. “You’re not worried, are you? It just seems a nice thing to do. So I’m going in and take that pill. Shall I sleep in Mary’s old room?”
“The bed’s not made up. Take Rose’s bed, she’s away for the night. Her pajamas are in the bottom drawer.”
“Maybe I should call the hospital before I take that pill.”
“I left my number. I’ll stay up for a while, just in case. I may go jump in the pond for a second, but I’ll be back before you’re in bed.”
Sally hugged her again and went inside. Elsie walked down to the pond, hung her dress on a branch, put a rock on her bra and underpants—a breeze was still skittering in the treetops. She was in up to her knees when she heard a motor. It slowed, seemed to be turning into Miss Perry’s part of the driveway. She thought it might be Dick—Rose was at his house, after all. She was fumbling with her dress in the dark when she heard the motor more clearly, a more urgent buzzing than Dick’s truck. She got the dress on, pulled the zipper so hard it tore loose. She made it up the slope in time to see a single light bouncing over the last bump.
She waved her arms and said, “Turn that thing off.”
Walt killed the engine, pulled his motorcycle onto the kickstand. He said, “Sorry. I forgot Rose might be asleep. I figured you’d still be up, what with taking Jack to the hospital.”
He’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans. He was, as Mary Scanlon would say, a fine figger of a man. He was an embarrassment. He was someone she’d leaned out the tower window and flirted with, and he’d come up the ladder and fucked her brains out.
Walt said, “You forgot your book.”
“Oh God, that idiot cartoon.”
“I got it right here.”
Were men ever embarrassed by their mindless incidental coupling? What was embarrassing her even more than the fact that Walt had had her, had pulled orgasms out of her like fish on a trotline—what embarrassed her more was that he kept mixing her up with Deirdre O’Malley, that fun-house mirror reflection of herself.
“It wouldn’t fit in my pocket, so I stuck it under my belt. Just a sec. It slipped down some.” He put his hand in. “Damn, it’s in there tight.” He undid his belt buckle and tried again. “Wait. It’s gone down the leg.” He stood on one foot and raised the other. “It’s way in there.” He dropped his pants below his knees. “Okay, there she is.” He held it out with one hand, clutched his pants with another. She didn’t want to take it; it would be accepting that version of herself. But he wasn’t going to be able to pull his pants up unless she took it. On the other hand, she got some satisfaction from seeing him hobbled.
Walt waggled the book. The glossy cover—the caricature of her as an Amazon rippling with sexual muscle and witchery—blurred in the pale available light. She could take it and be done with it.
Walt was looking over her shoulder. He said, “Hey, Rose. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“I’m not Rose,” Sally said. “Who are you? Oh, Walt. What are you doing here? And pull up your pants.”
“I’m just bringing Elsie her book. It got stuck—”
“That book,” Sally said. “You’ve caused quite enough trouble with that book. In the middle of Jack’s speech. It’s been a very trying evening, and I have to say part of it has been your fault. All those lewd jokes.”
“That was Phoebe,” Walt said.
“Don’t quibble. It’s very late. Just take your book and your motorcycle and leave.”
Walt’s head was down. Elsie was about to feel sorry for him, but he was just tucking the book under his chin while he buckled his belt. “Relax, I’m not hanging around. But it’s Elsie’s book.” He handed it to her. He wheeled his motorcycle to the steep part of the driveway, jumped on, and rolled away silently.
“I never liked him,” Sally said. “I never liked him, and I never trusted him. My God, Elsie! What happened to your dress? He didn’t try anything, did he?”
“No. That was me. I yanked the zipper off. Down by the pond.”
Somewhere near the bottom of the hill Walt’s motorcycle coughed twice and then revved.
Sally said, “I’m
getting foggy. Must be that pill.”
The motorcycle faded away.
Elsie went in with Sally and sat by the bed. Sally said, “You’ll listen for the phone?”
“Yes. You can go to sleep. I can hear the phone out here. It’ll be all right.”
She went down to the pond to get her shoes and the rest of her clothes. A relief to be alone. She’d been holding on to herself all night.
She slipped her dress off. The air on her body was cool. She stuck out her right leg. It looked good, but everything looked good in this soft night glow. How long would she look good?
A cooler puff of air. The wind was backing to the southeast. Fog before long.
Sally was three years older and looked good. Of course, Sally was the pretty one. Pretty dresser, too. But even in Rose’s pajamas and getting on her high horse with Walt, she looked good.
A first wisp of fog in the treetops.
In two years Rose would go away to college. May dreaded it.
She waded in up to her knees. A frog, then another and another, plopped into the water. She pushed in, gave a little frog kick, and glided, steering herself with her trailing hands. Just another frog in the pond. Did a frog take pleasure in the slip of water along its skin? She turned onto her back and floated. May dreaded Rose’s leaving, but unless Rose went far away, easy enough for a mother to show up. They had days for that sort of thing. And here with the house to herself, on a day when Dick came back to port, she could offer this freshwater pond as a comfort, let him wash away the salt.
Unnatural mother to wish her child gone.
Now that she was floating quietly, the frogs were back on the bank or on their lily pads, croaking in chorus from one side of the pond to the other. The noise used to annoy Mary Scanlon. She said she got over it by imagining one side was saying, “Frog’s legs! Frog’s legs!” and the other answering “Supper! Supper!” A cook’s-eye view of nature.
The fog was coming on, shrouding the oval of sky over the pond.
And then Mary had made her claim on Rose, luring her into their duets. Did Mary know how they closed her off? That her own singing was no better than the two-note croaking all around her. Now that it was getting darker, it seemed louder.
