David Palmer - Emergence

Rollo debated momentarily, glanced at me, then smiled. “Sure, why not.”

Once inside, Rollo disappeared to clean up. I returned to van briefly to fetch Terry’s stand; set up in living room in unused corner. Then we waited for Rollo.

Tora-hōhi jumped into Adam’s lap without hesitation. Adam looked surprised as cat butted him authoritatively in stomach, performed three formal turnarounds, then settled down firmly to accompaniment of soft, rusty-sounding purring. Volume increased by full order of magnitude when Adam hesitantly scratched under chin. Sounded like cement mixer.

(Knew then Adam genuine cat person; has “touch”: One of those people who unerringly scratch right place every time. Tora-hōhi knew, too: Adam hooked.)

“ ‘Tora-hōhi’ doesn’t mean ‘Tiger-breath,’ ” said Adam softly. Expression, as scratched cat’s neck, chin, stroked here, there, in response to unconscious clues, invited comparison with mother in Michelangelo’s “Madonna and Child.” “I competed in the Ozawa Competition in Tokyo a couple years ago. I never got fluent at Japanese; I just learned enough to get by — but we kids did learn all the wrong words. ‘Tiger-breath’ would be ‘Tora-kokyū.’ I think ‘hōhi’ means ‘fart.’ I wonder if Rollo knows he’s got it wrong. I’m going to call him ‘Tora-chan.’ That means ‘Tiger-dear.’ ” Broke off to scratch particular spot behind cat’s left ear. Tora-chan responded by snuggling even closer, stepping up already impressive volume, closing eyes as expression of total satisfaction overspread diabolical visage.

Smiled to myself: Adam unaware, of course, but had just announced intention of adopting crusty old warrior, regardless how relations might go with Rollo. Of course, had little real say in matter — such decisions belong to cat alone.

Rollo reappeared about an hour later, announced: “Is this better?” And received no answer because both Adam and I staring open-mouthed.

Had accomplished nothing less than transfiguration: Was clean, smooth-shaven, hair cut roughly but adequately; wearing clean, quietly stylish, casual clothes. Smelled good, too: aftershave (Coty’s musk, I think).

Appearance now matched demeanor: Rollo poised, elegant; tall, slim, quietly handsome; perhaps mid-40s; touch of gray at temples; high forehead, cheekbones; firm, dimpled chin; astonishingly blue eyes; lots of laugh lines — cut singularly impressive figure.

Told him so. Looked pleased. Then suggested we adjourn to kitchen; intended to whip up festive dinner. Followed, bringing Terry’s stand.

Adam fed Tora-chan, who ate until sides bulged. Rollo produced old litter pan from broom closet, filled, offered to cat. Tora-chan glared, but took advantage. Adam fascinated by performance: Had never known cats bury own waste. Also bury anything too spoiled to eat, garbage in general, Rollo added by way of information.

Then Tora-chan noticed Terry. Jumped up on counter next to stand; sat, stared. Twin clicked bill several times; fluffed, settled feathers; stared back without rancor. Tora-chan considered pros, cons; decided had better things to do. Returned to Adam’s lap. Then pooled energies with bird, glaring as Rollo hustled around kitchen, making dinner, small-talking nonstop (over long months’ isolation, had built up substantial conversational pressures).

Couldn’t understand Terry’s attitude; Rollo so nice — apart from not being cat person, of course. And even there, had — well — not totally unreasonable justification for conduct. Perhaps brother’s opinion based on initial appearance, smell; or spur-of-moment approval of cat — offended by Rollo’s treatment of new friend at door.

But, though never known him wrong about stranger, inclined to be less conservative myself now that meeting Adam turned out well; now I had partner, reliable backup if crisis developed.

Besides, wanted meeting Rollo to turn out well; wanted for friend. Embodied most good qualities friend should have: intelligent, understanding, good-humored — funny (for five dreadful minutes he and Adam engaged in pun-ishing contest: Adam won, but issue in doubt right up to final groan).

Plus, as predinner conversation turned into dinner conversation, developed that Rollo had been every where, done every thing: Peace Corps physician for years in Africa, India, South America. Spent year traveling as resident physician with Ringling Brothers Circus. Vacations included photo expeditions through Malaysia, Australia, Alaska. Had driven race cars in Europe (Adam’s eyes bugged; already assembling list of questions), semis during summers while in school; flown sailplanes in Lee Wave over Minden, Nevada; snorkled Caribbean, South Pacific; climbed K2 in Himalayas. Wrote textbooks, had own TV show on local station, was two-term state house representative. Finally got into private practice, teaching, then administration. Both Daddy, Teacher had guest-taught at his school at one time or another.

This led to discussion of Teacher’s work, H. post hominem theory, physical characteristics of new breed. Rollo listened intently to précis of events leading to species’ discovery. Asked occasional questions. Finally shook head in amazement: “ Damn, I wish I could have participated in that study. McDivott invited me to take part years ago, but I was just heading off to Save the World in the Peace Corps. Wonderful…”

Then we got into my, Adam’s survival, meeting; trip to this point, zoo-animal problem; clues unearthed thus far, purpose, hoped-for ultimate destination. Rollo impressed: Offered long, low whistle at narrative’s conclusion. Opined were braver than he, out exploring by ourselves. His reaction to tragedy was dig hole, climb in, pull in after him: Withdrew, feeling sorry for self, grieving over loss of wife.

Rollo met her there at school. Twenty years his junior, she “…kept me young and interested — and our sudden marriage caused all kinds of entertainingly wicked gossip for first few months. When nothing materialized, it all petered out on a disappointed note.

“We never did have any children — much less that nine-pound preemie everyone expected. It wasn’t a question of age; 25 would have been a fine age for Sally to begin bearing children; and, by microscopic examination, it looked as if I’d be fertile until they hammered down the headstone. We were waiting for me to retire so we both could be full-time parents. I had a bunch of investments that would have matured in another two years. We did take the precaution of freezing a quart or so of my semen, just in case my prognostications proved overly optimistic…

“Which brings us to our next topic…”

Leaned back, sighed, patted his tummy, still amazingly flat despite quantity put away. “Golly, that was good. I wonder what I did right.” (Adam stared vacantly at ceiling; Rollo hadn’t noticed him sniffing pots during preparation.)

“…which is, of course, Candy.” Rollo smiled fondly at me. Smiled back; such a nice man. Turning then to Adam, Rollo sat up straight, folded hands on edge of table, assumed serious mien.

“Sir,” he began, “it appears that you are in sole possession of something we both want. In the absence of law, it becomes necessary to settle the matter between us personally. The question is: Shall we resolve it like the gentlemen we purport to be, or must we fall back on the time-honored method?”

Adam’s expression the very picture of noncomprehension. Rollo regarded him soberly. “In other words, will you share Candy with me or must we fight over her?”

Adam’s eyes snapped open. Understood now — and so did I …!

Mouth open, retort quivering on tip of tongue; but Adam beat me to it. Did good job, too; covered every point would have raised myself, plus angles hadn’t thought of (and language more diplomatic than I would have employed): “Candy is not my property. She is no one’s property. I doubt if she ever will be anyone’s property. I have no authority over her, nor is my permission required for any arrangement anyone might or might not reach with her. If you want to discuss sharing anything with her, you will have to talk to her. ”