Well, they’re here, Eli said, and tossed her dress to her.
She’d watched from the top of the stairs as Liz transferred the baby over to him. The baby whimpered, and Eli put him on his shoulders.
A cigarette dangled from Hollis’s mouth, and a line of smoke swayed up past his gray eyes. Would you mind kindly keeping that shit out of the house, please? Eli said. And away from my kid in general?
Hollis pinched the cigarette out with his fingers and flicked it through the door. So how about some coffee? he said.
The dogs were milling and bumping at things. Don’t rush me, don’t rush me, Eli said. He stretched, then, and reached over to tousle Hollis’s floppy brown hair. I just got up.
Hollis inclined his head. Impressive, he said. Outstanding.
They’d looked like a tribe, Hollis and Liz and Eli, tall and slouchy and elastic. She sat on the stairs, rags of her dream still clinging to her, until he called for her.
It was Hollis who tracked down the guns and kept on top of the orders and sales. Because this guy’s too pure in heart to have a computer in his place, Hollis had said, tilting back to appraise her.
No phone line, Eli said, unruffled.
My point, Hollis said to her. So I’m stuck with it. He shook his head. Too fucking poetic, this guy.
You are so jealous, Liz told Hollis, sliding her hand inside the back of his jeans.
The good weather continued, and there was the garden and clearing away the persistent brush. There was plenty else, too—cleaning, and dealing with the wood for the stove, and endless laundry.
Mostly, of course, there was Noah. Eli was doing a lot of things to the cabin, and the wood chips and splinters and chemicals were flying around everywhere. And there were always tools, and work on the guns going on in the sheds.
You’ve really got to watch him every second, Eli said. And I mean every second.
It was true; if she turned around for a second he’d have gotten himself over to the stove or the door or a pail of something. So she watched and she watched. But at night, when Noah was asleep, she had Eli to herself and that was well worth the trouble of the day, and more.
Usually, it was he who cooked. Sometimes just vegetables, but sometimes rabbit or venison or little birds. Often, as evening came, the sky turned greenish—a dissipating, regretful color.
She remembers his voice coming through that color from outside, asking her to get the stove going. But when he came in almost a half an hour later, she hadn’t managed. I’m sorry, she said. How tired she used to get, back at the beginning! And she’d actually started to cry.
He looked at her and sighed. Here, he said. I’ll show you again.
Sometimes the woods shook and flared with thunder and lightning. The deer came crashing through the trees. Way down in the valley the little foxes jumped straight up from the grass. Sometimes, walking near the creek with Eli, Noah on his shoulders or back, she would hear just a little whisper or rustle somewhere, or there would be a streak in the corner of her eye. Are there snakes? she asked.
He folded his arms around her and explored her ear with his tongue. Not to worry. They won’t bother you unless you do something to stir them up.
At first Noah would go rigid when she tried to hold him. He’d swat at her if she bent down for him, and he’d scream when it seemed he thought Eli was in earshot.
And then Eli had to come in from outside and hold him or swing him around while she looked on. There we go, Eli would say when Noah calmed down. And sometimes he’d go back out hardly looking at her.
Noah was still only a baby then, but every day he was looking more like a little boy; every day he figured out new ways to resist and defeat her.
Just pick him up like a big ham, Eli said. Look. Like this, right, Noah?
He smiled at her as he went out, but later he’d taken her by the shoulders and looked at her very seriously. I know it’s hard, he said. But you’ve got to start taking some more responsibility around here. She averted her face as he leaned over to kiss her; she’d just sneaked a cigarette.
It was early on that they talked about Zoe. She wasn’t ready, Eli said; it wasn’t her fault. In fact, there was a lot that was his fault, really a lot, he hated to think about it. But anyhow, it was just the way she was constituted—she lacked courage. She was always dissatisfied. And she always would be, because she didn’t have the courage to face the fact that what happens to you is largely of your own choosing.
He turned back, then, to whatever it was he’d been doing. But she was still listening, she remembers; something was still flickering in what he’d said.
Does she want to see Noah? She’d asked after a moment.
That’s not a possibility, he said. His back was to her.
She was willing to leave her kid, he said. And that one’s on her.
Noah isn’t sounding so good. She can hear him snuffling from the kitchen. She goes to check. He’s a bit sweaty—maybe Alma’s right, that he’s got a little fever. But little kids get sick all the time. Anyhow, what makes Alma the authority? The hospital she works at is for crazy people, not for little kids.
Tomorrow she’ll get him some kind of treat—a fuzzy doggie toy, maybe. Or something. Not that there’s money to burn.
She remembers once trying chocolate syrup in his milk, trying a story, promising maybe a trip into town later with Eli, but Noah still whining and crying hour after hour. All right, that’s it, you behave now, she’d said. Or you’re going right in your crib and you’re not going to be seeing that bottle of yours anytime soon.
He let out a little yelp of fury.
Fine, then, scream, she said. Go ahead and scream. Just cry until you melt yourself away for all I care. You know he’s not going to hear you out there over all that noise. They’d stared at each other. He is not going to hear you.
She turned away from him and opened one of Eli’s books. When she glanced back Noah was still standing there, looking at her. What? she said.
He’d wobbled for a moment on his feet, and then plopped down on his rear end, crying again.
Eli went into town to get supplies and took Noah with him. To give her a break, he said.
She’d listened to the truck heaving itself out on the rutted road. It was the first time she’d been truly alone in the cabin for more than a few minutes. Sunlight and silence shimmered down through the leaves all around it. In the sparkling dimness the floor shone like a lake. All around her there was a tingling quiet. She shivered, then sat very still, to enter it.
It was like a garden, or park, that opened out forever. Peaceful, clever animals, invisible in the abundance, paused to take note of her. She had found her way, through patience and good fortune.
How’s it been going—Eli said, when he returned, looking around at the cabin. She’d finished the dishes and tidied up.—Any lions or tigers?
Hollis’s green truck pulled up, waking her. The sheets still noted Eli’s place, but they were cold. She’d watched from a window upstairs. The dogs were huffing and circling in back, and Hollis and Liz got out. Eli was carrying Noah. He handed Noah over to Liz. He called something up to Kristina, and then he and Hollis got into Eli’s truck and pulled back out onto the dirt road.
She heard Liz downstairs with Noah. After a while she came down herself. Hi, Liz said. Eli told me you might want some help with Noah today.
Oh, thanks, she’d said. But we’ll be fine.
That’s okay, Liz said, flopping herself down on the couch. Just toss me out when you get sick of me.
Sorry not to have given you a heads-up, Eli said later. But we had an unexpected opportunity. To do an errand for your old pal, Frank.
Frank, she said. What did Frank want?
He’s into Mausers these days, I’m sorry to tell you. He had his tender heart set on a 1944 Kreigsmodell, and we just happened to come across one at a reasonable price. Oh, give me the sweet old American revolver guys any day. Or the Derringer guys, or the Winchester guys. Anyone at
all—the Finnish military model guys. I’ve got to admit it’s not necessarily a super high IQ clientele, but Frank is special. It’s amazing he hasn’t already blown his brains out by mistake.
Frank! To think of the way that freak had gotten her to scurry around. Like a rabbit! She’d let out a little whoop.
What, Eli said. Oh, right—like how would anyone know if he had.
I don’t really need Liz to come help, she said the next time he’d had to go off for the day.
He’d looked at her. It doesn’t hurt to have reinforcements, he said. And I’ll have her bring any stuff you might need from town.
The leaves were truly turning when she first went back into town with Eli. The cycle of the year had locked tight, but she’d slipped out in time.
Past the quarry and the foundry and the gorge, into the painted, prissy town. She’d lived there only months ago, and yet it didn’t look like a real place any longer—it just looked like a picture of a place.
She cast her mind back and saw Zoe—the way Zoe had looked carrying Noah, gliding and regal.
Want me to carry you? she said. Noah protested, but Eli slung him onto her back.
He was heavy, and she had to cede him to Eli pretty soon, but for a while as they went about their errands, buying food and batteries and seeds, she felt, in the weight of him, her elevated station. And when they went to the diner for lunch, people she had barely spoken to in the old days came over to admire him.
They went to one of the fancy tourist stores, and Eli picked out two dresses for her. Back in the truck, with Noah settled on her lap, she felt in the bag at the slippy, lovely fabric.
Anything you particularly want to do before we head home? Eli said.
Home. The way she had lived at Nonie and Munsen’s—like a little animal! I bet Nonie and Munsen would enjoy seeing Noah, she said.
Are you saying you’d like to stop by there now? he said.
She’d glanced at him, then shrugged. We’re here.
He was looking at her steadily. Do you want to see them?
It’s been awhile, she said.
All you have to say, he said. All you have to say is that you’d like to see them.
But neither Munsen’s car nor Nonie’s was out in front.
Well, too bad, Eli said.
Eli had so many books. How nice it had been to take them down from the shelves and look at them. In the one about the ocean, the prettiest fish imaginable hovered so weightlessly you could almost see them moving—rising, lingering, darting down with the flick of a tail. And the gorgeous plants and flowers around them were really other animals.
How did he get out? Eli was saying. He was in front of her, holding his machete in one hand and Noah by the other, and rage was flashing off him in sheets, like lightning. It was just luck I didn’t kill him with this.
She was still shaking when Eli returned outside. She could hardly stand. Her hand was clamped around Noah’s shoulder. If you want something you come to me, do you hear? she told him, her voice tight. You come to me. You do not go outside to bother your father. Try some stunt like that again and I’ll—I don’t know what I’ll do—
On rainy days when Eli wasn’t working, she curled up against him while he read out loud. Noah curled up at his other side, or played quietly nearby. Eli read from books about history or animals or the earth and other planets. The world was living and breathing, each bit in its place. When the weather was good the three of them played together in the woods.
Whenever Eli went away for the day, Liz came in her pickup, and stayed on and on. Noah would go rigid with joy when the big, patient dogs, with their amazing tails and fur and tongues came huffling toward him through the door, but Kristina set herself to endure some bad hours.
Sometimes for days afterward, Kristina felt like a swan that had gotten caught in an oil slick—sticky and polluted, not fit to be near Eli. How could he deal with Liz? Her loudness, her opinions about every pointless thing, her gossipy chattering, the way she made everything ordinary…Eli had shrugged: she was an old, old friend, there was a lot of history, she was as loyal as a person could be…
Noah was making his way toward them, holding his empty bottle. Hey, Noah—Liz said. You’re really getting that locomotion thing down! Wow, I can’t believe how fast he’s growing, look at him. Noah! she grabbed him up and tickled him, blowing hard into his hair.
Kristina remembers watching as Noah exploded into giggles.
Does he still cry for Zoe all the time? Liz said, when Noah had run back to the dogs.
For Zoe? she’d said.
Wow, it used to be Mama, Mama, Mama the whole fucking time, Liz said. Poor little sweetie. It used to drive Eli nuts.
I guess he’s forgotten about her, she’d said.
That’s great, good for you, she was a major pain, if you ask me, Liz had said, Miss Too Gorgeous for this World. I always felt like smacking her myself, to tell you the truth. She didn’t appreciate what she had in Eli. Eli’s intense, so what? He’s got his own way of looking at things. He’s more evolved than other people. Plus, he gave her everything. He was fucking great to her, and he put up with her shit a long, long time before he even began to lose patience. Liz was holding one of the dish towels, creasing it absently and fiercely.
They’ve been gone so long, Kristina remembers saying. Did they say when they were planning to get back?
Oh, you never know with those two, Liz said. She tossed the towel onto the table. They take their time with the custom work. Of course that’s why they’ve got such a great reputation, obviously. Hollis can find just about anything, and Eli can convert just about anything. He’s got great hands. She pushed her hair back and eased a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Great, great hands…. She lit a cigarette and inhaled, closing her eyes.
Kristina watched her for a while. Liz—she’d said, and her voice came out fuzzy. Can I take one of those?
Help yourself. Liz opened her eyes; she’d sounded almost angry. I won’t tell.
The next time Eli and Hollis went off, Noah played happily with the dogs while Liz talked on, but then suddenly Liz exclaimed, and put her hands to her forehead.
Are you okay? Kristina asked.
Sorry, Liz said. I’ve been getting these crucifying migraines.
Do you want to lie down? she’d asked. Then her breath caught for a moment. Do you want to leave?
Would you mind? Liz said. You don’t have to mention to Eli it was so early, though. But if I don’t get out of here fast, basically, I’m not going to be able to drive till probably tomorrow.
That afternoon, with Liz and the dogs gone so early, no matter how often Kristina explained that Eli was coming back soon, Noah cried and fussed, swatting at her with his little hands.
You’d be less cranky if you ate something, she said. What about some applesauce?
No, Noah said.
Well, then, a graham cracker. Don’t you like your graham crackers anymore?
No, he said.
Such a tiny word. Such a tiny voice.
Do you know how furious your father’s going to be if I have to tell him you refused to eat one single thing all day? Do you know how angry he’s going to be with you? Are you going to make me tell him?
He looked at her, swaying a bit on his feet. Bad Kissy, he said.
Not bad me, bad you! Bad you! Do you want me to smack you? Because I’m just about ready to.
Bad Kissy, he said. Bad Kissy.
Don’t you talk to me like that! Don’t you look at me like that! Do you think I like picking up after you all day? And getting you your food when you do deign to eat? And cleaning up all your mess? I know you don’t like having me around. And do you know what? I think I’ve just about had it with you! One more sassy word and I’m going to walk right out that door, and you’ll just have to take care of yourself. Now, you eat your graham cracker this minute, or I’m out of here.
But then he was screaming and kicking and banging his head against the wall
.
It was the moment; it was their chance, and thank God she’d recognized that. But just remembering the struggle, she starts to sweat—scooping him up and trying to hold him still, and all the time he was kicking at her and screaming. And clinging to her so fiercely she could hardly get him over to the sofa to sit down with him.
It must have been over an hour that she was holding on to him before he was calm enough for her to speak. All right then, Noah, she said.
He had gone limp. She held him steadily on her lap and broke the graham cracker in half. She wouldn’t let him avoid her eyes.
I’m not going to leave you alone, she said. Listen to me. This is a promise. I am not going to leave you alone.
Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, and he hiccuped.
They watched each other as she ate her half of the cracker. She nodded, and held the other half of the cracker out to him. Slowly, gulping back the last of his sobs, still watching her, he chewed it laboriously down.
When Eli returned, Noah was still in her lap, asleep. Where’s Liz? he said.
You just missed her, she said.
Huh, Eli said. And this one—trouble?
She rested her cheek against Noah’s springy hair and tightened her hold on him for a moment before handing him over. No, she said. No trouble.
The cold came and kept them frequently inside. Eli was working in the shed a lot, and from time to time he’d have to take a trip or go to a show with Hollis. When they were away, Liz arrived for the daylight hours. When her truck finally pulled away, darkness folded in over the cabin.
When Eli was home, he was quiet. He read to Noah, and when he grew tired of it he turned to his own reading. He was looking a little pale, she’d thought. Eli? she said.
What’s that? he’d said, pausing on his way up to the loft.
She shook her head: nothing.
The Collected Stories of Deborah Eisenberg Page 82
