They look at one another, shy as schoolmates.
“He likes to come out to the site where Michael and I are building, too. He can nap in his camper, or sit out in a lawn chair and watch. Supervise, he calls it. He’s a nice old man, Katie.”
“He’s not soaking you in remorse and moral fortitude?”
“Not really. Though I’ve learned my share of his affirmations. How about, ‘Victory is won not in miles but in inches.’”
“General MacArthur? Robert E. Lee?”
“Nope. Louis L’Amour.”
“I went out to the house. I was surprised to find Carol Lee there.”
“Sky and Prudence didn’t get out until the end of August. No way am I renting the place again. She said she’d keep an eye on things until I move back. I thought, why not?”
“I’d like to keep an eye on things, myself.”
“Live out there, you mean?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“You’re not—you’re not back with the pear man?”
She hoots. “I don’t know if he’s back from Italy or wherever he went, but no, I’m not back with the pear man. Now or ever.”
“Are you back with me?”
She has thought of a hundred answers to that question, knowing it would come, and all of them fail her now. “In some way, I am,” she says simply. “We’re not divorced.” She smiles at him. “I’m out four hundred dollars for nothing.”
“I’ve been careful to stay dressed, thinking there might be more papers served.” He seems good-humored about it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t write, didn’t tell you what was going on. I was at my mother’s. I wanted to be with her and Rhea.”
“That’s a long time to be with June.”
“It was all right this trip. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Listen, I’ll stay at Michael’s a couple of days, but can you get that girl out?”
“Sure. She’s got her brother to go to. She’s nothing to me, Katie. Not really even a friend.”
“Are you going to stay here until Geneva comes back? Do you know when that will be?”
“I could come and go now. I don’t have to stay all the time. It was a lot harder on Gully when he had the cast.”
She stands up and folds the chair. Fish moves closer to her. She starts up the bank.
At the road she says, “I don’t feel so desperate now.”
He says, “I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but neither do I. Except I wonder all the time about Rhea. Whether I’ll see her. I guess I fell in love with her.”
“You’ve written her. That’s nice. It means a lot to her.”
He grabs her arm. “Aw, Katie, don’t be mean.” She goes inside the circle of his arms, feels his warmth. She lays her head against his chest, and doesn’t raise it for his kiss. In a moment she pulls gently away.
“Give me a fucking list,” he says earnestly. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I don’t want to tell you. I want you to find out for yourself.”
“Find out what!”
“You just have to grow up, Fish.”
His cheek twitches. He looks away. “But you’re here.”
“I’m here. Come on, I brought something for you.” She leads him to her car. In the front seat is a box of pears. She takes one out and holds it up between her and Fish. It is the exquisite red of a peach, but smooth, with a ruby undertone. “Take a bite,” she says. “It’s wonderful. I went to a lot of trouble to get these.”
She holds the fruit and he eats it. She turns it as he takes the next bite, and the next. Juice drips onto her hands. She draws the pear up to her own mouth and sucks the juice at the edge of the tears his teeth made. Then she holds it up to him again, standing a little closer.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
“Tresspass” appeared in slightly different form in Ploughshares and in The Ploughshares Reader: New Fiction for the Eighties.
Copyright © 1991 by Sandra Scofield
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1201-0
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Beyond Deserving Page 36
