“If I had a corkscrew, I would open one of these bottles and we could sit here all night,” he offered.
“We could sit here all night, anyway.”
He looked at her.
“We might get cold.”
“Yeah,” Jenna said, “and I have to go to the bathroom.”
Eddie laughed.
“See? Sometimes you think you’re in a movie and it will go on forever, but then you have to go to the bathroom, and you know it’s not a movie.”
Jenna smiled. “If you don’t have any popcorn in that house, you’re in big trouble.” And she opened the door and got out of the truck.
JENNA AND EDDIE fell through the front door like a couple of kids, stumbling and giggling. Oscar, who had been sleeping on the couch, pricked up his ears and cocked his head inquisitively. Jenna stopped short in the middle of the room as Eddie set the wine on the kitchen counter. Jenna stopped short because she saw a blinking light on the answering machine that was on the table next to the couch. A seemingly innocent, small, red diode on a black box. A red flame that burned into Jenna’s head like a hot coal. The flashing light, setting off a chain reaction of electrical impulses that ran wildly through Jenna’s brain with one final and critical result: I didn’t call Robert.
Jenna stood, staring at the blinking light as if it were a hypnotic beacon from her past life. Her past life that had seemed so small and remote moments ago. Eddie was busy in the kitchen. Jenna heard a cardboard box open and something slide out. A sealed door open and close. The beeping of a touch pad. Then the humming of a fan exhausting microwaves from a small box. The answering machine continued to call attention to itself. Blink, blink. Like a throbbing blood vessel that was about to burst. The rustling of a paper bag. A drawer opening and closing. A cork being pulled from a bottle. Kiss-pop. And the smell of fresh wine mixing with the air. Thoughts rushing through her brain. Kiss-pop. A bottle of champagne. A fire. Jenna, reclining on kilim pillows, her toes freshly painted. Robert padding toward her, naked, save for two glasses of champagne. Drinking and laughing. Kissing with hot tongues. If you want a boy, eat carrots and orange-colored squashes. Robert kneeling, stroking the small of her back. If you want a boy, do it late. He slipped in, quietly and comfortably. They rocked back and forth until he came inside of her. It worked. They named their son Robert.
“You all right?” Eddie asked, holding two glasses of wine. Jenna looked at him nervously, desperately.
“You have a message.”
He looked at the machine. “No, it’s broken. It always blinks. Something’s wrong with it.” He looked closer and saw Jenna’s agitation. “What’s wrong?”
She felt dizzy and tired. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingers.
“I don’t think I need any more wine.”
Eddie nodded and put the glasses on the kitchen table.
“Yeah, maybe you’d better get some sleep.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to her bedroom. She stopped before going in the door.
“I need to make a phone call. Can I use your phone?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll use my calling card so you won’t have to worry about paying for it.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to. Whatever.”
They stood silently in the hallway. Jenna looked down at the floor and leaned forward, pressing her head against Eddie’s chest.
“I have to call.”
He patted her on the arm with a friendly pat. A friend pat.
“I know.”
“Do you know who I’m calling?”
“I can guess.”
She nodded, her head still pressed against him.
“My life’s a mess.”
“No, it isn’t.” Confident. Reassuring.
She laughed. “Yes . . . yes, it is. If you get to know me better, you’ll soon find out. My life is a real mess.”
He lifted her head softly by slipping his hand under her chin. They looked into each other’s eyes and Eddie smiled.
“At least you have two arms.”
“Yeah, that’s a point. At least I have two arms.”
She sat on the couch and dialed access numbers and codes until the phone rang on the other end. Eddie brought her a white bag of microwave popcorn and a glass of water, both of which she took willingly. She waved good-night as Robert answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
Jenna didn’t have much planned after that. She could hear Robert shake himself awake. She looked at the clock and saw that it was midnight. The time change made it one o’clock in Seattle. Eddie’s footsteps got quieter as they walked down the hall. A door closed.
“Sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you up?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but that’s okay. You can wake me up.”
The line was silent. Robert was, no doubt, wondering what the parameters of the conversation would be. He was afraid to talk until Jenna let him know he could. He was a hostage to her demands. She was in control.
“Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m sorry about this whole thing.”
“Jenna, I have to tell you, you really caught me by surprise. I mean, I know things have been a little rough, but I never thought you’d just take off.”
“Me, neither.”
“But, why?”
She took a drink of the water.
“I’m looking for answers.”
“Answers to what? You know that I love you.”
“How strong is that love?”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s a question.”
“How do I quantify that? You’re my wife. I chose to spend the rest of my life with you. In sickness or in health, remember? You’re my chosen partner. I love you.”
“But how strong is that love, Robert? What are you willing to give up for it? How far are you willing to go? Or if it gets too rough, are you going to give it up?”
“What are you talking about? You won’t even tell me why you left. I don’t even know what the problem is, here. What am I willing to give up? What do you want me to give up? Do you want me to drop everything and come to you? Fine. Tell me where you are and I’ll get on the next plane. What kind of question is that? Am I going to give it up? How could you ask that? You must really hate me.”
“No, Robert—”
“Seriously. I’m really hurt by that. I haven’t given up on anything. It’s been two years since Bobby died and you’re still walking around in a daze. And I’ve been with you. I’ve been very patient. I’ve stood by you through thick and thin. Don’t talk to me about giving up. You’re the one who’s given up. You’re the one who ran away.”
“Robert—”
“I’ve been there. I’ve stood by you.”
Silence for a moment. Then, Jenna, softly but with an edge.
“Yeah, you stood by me, Robert. You stood by me real good.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
More silence. Hard, cold silence. Jenna left his question hanging in the cold telephone cables that lay silently on the ocean floor. She put a couple of pieces of popcorn in her mouth.
“You’re eating?”
“It’s just popcorn.”
Robert groaned.
“This sucks. I can’t do this on the phone, Jenna. If you want to come back and try to work this through, I guarantee you that I will do whatever I can to help us through this. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll hire the most expensive psychiatrist I can find—”
“I don’t want another psychiatrist!”
Robert laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that.”
Jenna verged on tears of frustration. She lashed out. “Fuck you!”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Robert said sharply.
“Yeah? Well, pretend I didn’t say it twice. Fuck you.”
&
nbsp; Nothing but breathing for thirty seconds.
“This is incredible.” Robert forced out a laugh. “You still haven’t told me why you left.”
“I left because I hate myself and because you hate me. I may be able to get over hating myself one day. But I’ll never be able to get over it if you’re there hating me. I can’t take the pressure of it. When I look at you, I see in your eyes the hatred you feel.”
“I do not.”
“Don’t lie about it, Robert! I can feel it! I’m not stupid. We probably should have broken up right afterward. We’re like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Staying together so we can torture each other about our dead son.”
“Jenna, stop it.” Stern and angry. How to get a disobedient dog to obey. Stern, sharp command. Quick hand gesture. Jenna, sit.
“No, Robert, no. It’s torture. It is. We both know it. I can’t do it anymore.”
Robert sighed.
“You can’t do it anymore? Does that mean you’re not coming back?”
Jenna rubbed her nose.
“It means that I’m going to try to stop hating myself. And when I do, I’ll come back. And if you can stop hating me, too, then we can start our new life together. But if you can’t stop hating me, then we’ll start our new life apart.”
“There’s kind of an ultimatum attached to that.”
“Dig down deep in your heart, Robert, and if you find love for me, bring it up. But if you find nothing, it would be best for both of us if we called it off.”
There was a long pause. Long enough for Jenna to drink almost half the glass of water. Then, Robert.
“Call me soon.”
Jenna hung up the phone and took several deep breaths. She looked down at Oscar, still sleeping next to her on the couch. She stroked his head and flipped on the TV with the remote. She channeled around until she found the E! Channel. Even in Alaska. And she settled back, hoping that sleep would come to her soon.
OSCAR WOKE UP Jenna with his scratching at the front door. Jenna had no idea what time it was, but the lights were off and she was covered with a blanket. Eddie must have checked in on her after she had fallen asleep. The TV was still on, though the volume was down, and the bright screen filled the room with blue light.
Jenna stood up and went to the door. It was pitch-black outside. Oscar clawed at the door and growled at something only he could see. Jenna patted Oscar on the side and pressed her face to the glass, looking for something. But nothing was there.
“What is it, boy?”
Oscar answered with a bark and continued clawing at the door. Jenna opened the door and Oscar scrambled outside, running across the road and disappearing over the seawall to the beach. Jenna stepped out onto the porch and strained her eyes against the darkness. She saw nothing. Heard nothing but the wind. She called out for Oscar, but he didn’t return. She stood on the cold deck and waited.
After a few minutes, Jenna went inside. There was no sign of Oscar. Jenna didn’t want to call for him because that might wake up the neighbors, and she certainly wasn’t going to go out into the night to look for him. She slumped back down on the couch and stared blankly at the TV.
A few minutes later, or was it longer? Did she fall asleep? Jenna heard a growling outside. It sounded far away. Like a couple of animals fighting. But Jenna was only half awake and she couldn’t fight through the haze of her dreams to respond to the sound. It was Oscar. It sounded like he was fighting with another dog. But it was down on the beach, or somewhere in the blackness outside.
Jenna could hear it, but she couldn’t divorce it from her dream. Her dream of a boy and his dog. The dog looked like Oscar. And the boy? Well, the boy looked like Bobby. A boy tussling with his dog. Rolling around on the beach in the sun. Don’t play too rough, boys. It’s almost time for dinner. Get yourselves cleaned up. But the boy and the dog were far away. They couldn’t hear Jenna over the sound of the waves crashing against the beach. They wrestled, rolling over and over, closer and closer to the water. Jenna watched from the seawall, the sun sparkling, the wind blowing her hair, her long white dress billowing. Eddie and Gram sitting in the truck, watching. The seawall seeming like a cliff. Now fifty feet above the ocean. Bobby and Oscar rolling closer and closer to the water. Jenna yelling to them. Boys. Boys. Be careful. They roll into the waves. They thrash around as the water crashes over them. Jenna stands on the cliff and yells. Eddie and Robert are in the truck, laughing. Gram is in her wheelchair. I’m not going to that place, she tells Jenna. I’m not going. I’m going to Alaska. She wheels away down the street. Wait. Gram, wait. Jenna yells to the boys. They’re under the water. Eddie and Oscar on the beach. Tangled in fishing line. Bobby is sitting on the waves. He’s waving. Mommy, Mommy. Gram is wheeling down the street. I’m not going to that place. Gram, wait till Mom gets home. Mommy, come here. Mommy, the water’s warm. Bobby disappears under the water. The cliff is a hundred feet. Jenna wants to jump. She wants to be with Bobby, but she’s afraid. She can’t see him anymore. Eddie is talking to Gram. Bobby is in the water, wearing a sweater. He’s sinking. He’s calling out. Eddie is kneeling before the wheelchair. Jenna, you have to talk to her. Bobby’s drowning. Jenna, she’s dying, you have to talk to her. I can’t. My boy. He’s not a boy. The old woman stands before Jenna, shouting. She’s black, like a burned log. Let him drown. Let him drown. The sight of the old woman, burned to a crisp, charred to a black stick, frightens Jenna. The old woman grabs her with a black hand. He’s an animal. He’s not a boy. Jenna stumbles backward. She trips on a log. She falls off the edge, into the blackness. She falls into the void, the valley of water, turning around and around, sick from the spinning, coming to save, why didn’t you save, dragging the ocean bottom with little silver hooks, landing softly on the beach, losing consciousness, landing in the blackness of sleep, the sleep of the dead, until morning, until the sun creeps above the glacier and the raven calls out that while we were sleeping the world didn’t end, not this time, maybe next time, but this time, though we died in our sleep, we are alive again, we are awake and we are the same person we were yesterday, and we should be thankful that we live another day on this earth, and we should remember the dead, our dead, who are not with us in body, but are soon to be with us in spirit, until Eddie turns on the light and Jenna rubs her eyes, rubbing away the vision, forgetting the dream forever, the dream that told her what she must do.
Chapter 21
EVERY EVENING AFTER DINNER WAS SERVED AT THUNDER BAY, Bobby went down to the dock with the other young kids and dropped his fishing line over the side, hoping to catch a fish. Some of the bigger kids had fishing poles and could cast out, away from the dock. Those kids caught a few. But Bobby was still too young for a fishing pole. He had a spool of fishing line with a hook on the end, and he hadn’t caught a fish all week. He constantly pleaded with his parents to get him a real fishing pole when he got bigger so he could finally catch something.
But on the next to last night, Bobby’s luck turned. A bigger kid helped him out by tying a silver lure to his line. He told Bobby that the flickering of the lure would attract the fish. And sure enough, it did. Bobby got a bite and pulled and tugged at the line, trying to reel in the fish, but the fish was strong. The older kid who gave Bobby the lure had to take over. The older kid overpowered the fish and hauled up Bobby’s catch, a giant flounder that was almost as big as Bobby.
The commotion on the dock was huge. Everyone cheering and chattering, all the parents coming down from the community house, Bobby, with a grin from ear to ear, at the center of all the attention. He stood on the dock holding his fish, struggling to keep it up off the wood deck, excitedly telling everyone how he managed to bring it in. Jenna and Robert were so happy for their son. Jenna took a picture of him holding the giant fish. The chef came down and told Bobby he would cook the fish up for his dinner the following night. And as it got darker and the excitement dulled down, the campers heading to their cabins, the fish was sent to the freezer even though Bobby wanted to kee
p it with him all night. Robert finally picked up Bobby and gave him a piggyback ride up the hill. Bobby was running on fumes, exhausted from a long day but still pumped up from his big event, and as he leaned his head against his father’s back he talked on, his words beginning to slur from fatigue.
“If I had a fishing pole, I could have caught one twice as big.”
“You sure could have,” Robert answered.
“Next year I can have a fishing pole, right, Dad?”
“I think next year you can have one, sure.”
“Hey, Dad, do you want to go fishing with me tomorrow? We can go out in a boat and then I can catch a bigger fish.”
“Sure.”
“We can go out in the boat?”
“Sure.”
By the time they reached their one-room cabin, Bobby was asleep. A limp sack of human being. Robert set him down on his bed and Jenna undressed him and pulled the sheets up. Jenna and Robert went out onto the porch and sat in the darkness under the stars.
“Aren’t you glad we came?” Robert asked.
Jenna nodded.
“Bobby isn’t going to want to leave,” she said.
Robert stretched and yawned. He put his arm around Jenna and kissed her temple.
“Oh, shit,” Robert said, pulling away suddenly.
“What?”
“I’m going hunting tomorrow.”
Robert had signed up for the hunting expedition. Adults only, big guns, going after big game. He had been looking forward to it all week.
“What about Bobby?” Jenna asked. “You told him you would take him fishing.”
“I really wanted to go hunting.”
“He’ll be heartbroken if you don’t take him.”
“Damn.” Robert stood up and walked to the edge of the street.
He looked back at Jenna, hoping to find a solution. He wanted her to release him from his obligation, but she refused.
“You know, I bet I can go hunting and be back early enough to take Bobby out,” Robert said. “The best time for fish is the evening, anyway.”
Jenna grimaced, but Robert must not have seen it. She knew that his plan was a recipe for trouble. And she knew that she was going to be the one who had to take the brunt of Bobby’s disappointment.