Russell Banks - Outer Banks

6.

Because of his sleeping habits, the Loon ate breakfast at night and dinner in the morning. He usually took a light lunch around midnight. Although, as mentioned, he lived in an excellent and completely outfitted tree house, designed by Michael Graves, he rarely ate at home. Rich and exciting people were always calling him up and inviting him over for breakfast or dinner. Eggs Benedict at nine in the evening with the Loon was regarded as a social event of no mean proportions. This was partially because of the Loon’s physical attractiveness (resembling, however, a young Marcel Marceau, he clearly was not “handsome”), partially because of his well-known proximity to power, and partially because of the brilliance of his conversation: He disagreed with everything everyone said, but only by pretending purposefully to misunderstand what was said. He was therefore regarded as an accomplished and dangerous wit.

7.

The king learned of Dread’s death at three in the morning, when a group of Abenakis, led by the one called Horse, came in with the body. At four-thirty, he called the Loon, who had just got home from work. — Oh, Loon! The queen is mad with grief! She blames me ! he cried.

— Why not? the Loon asked. — You’re supposed to be in charge of everything, aren’t you?

— This is no time to be funny, the king said sadly. — She’s blaming me because I’m the one who taught him to use a gun.

— Oh, said the Loon. — I see. And you didn’t teach him very well.

— Oh, I taught him well, all right, groaned the king.

— No, you didn’t, the Loon said sympathetically. — You can’t take all the blame for this onto yourself, Egress. You taught the boy as badly as you could.

— Oh, no, I didn’t.

— Yes, you did.

— No, Loon, I didn’t.

— Sure you did.

— I did?

— Of course.

— Thanks, Lone, you’ve been a sweetheart. I wish I could talk to my wife this way.

8.

Basically, the Loon was a gentle soul and tried always to hurt no one. But to avoid exploitation, to keep from becoming “passive,” as they say, he was forced to develop certain stratagems. He developed these early in childhood, and because they worked, kept them into adulthood. As can no doubt be observed, one thing he was very good at was “Changing the Subject.” He was also good at “Non Sequitur” and “Petitio Principii.” If none of these worked and it looked like he was going to be forced into a choice between hurting someone and being exploited by him, he still had two, somewhat extreme, stratagems left: “Fawning,” and, if that failed, “Total Surrender.” Social scientists have called this last stratagem “Self-objectification,” turning one’s self into something else, in Loon’s case, the exploiter’s self. This didn’t matter to the Loon, however, because, for him, it was a question of survival.

9.

That afternoon, the king learned of the barbarous death of Prince Egress. He first called the Loon at four, but wasn’t able to rouse him until six-fifteen, when the sun’s setting set off a gong inside the Loon’s head. Still drowsy, he answered the phone. — H’lo?

— Oh, Lone, Lone! They’ve killed my baby! Egress, the wild and woolly one, gone, gone, gone! cried the king.

— Who did it? the Loon asked.

— I did it, l’Ange! I’m the guilty one! the king hissed into the receiver. — Ask my wife, he added. — She’ll tell you.

— Have you asked her?

— No! God, no! These deaths of our children have riven us as a wedge splits a fallen tree. Just when we were really getting it together, too, he said wistfully. — Comfort me, Loon! the king commanded. — Comfort me! My wife doesn’t understand me!

— I once knew a man in Oregon who hadn’t any teeth, not a tooth in his head. Yet that man could play on the bass drum better than any man I ever met, the Loon said soothingly.

— Do you think so? the king asked.

— Of course.

— You know, I should have connected this to that kinky green-suited guy in the first place! You’re a genius, Loon! I’ll have him arrested immediately!

10.

— H’lo, Egress. The Loon knew who was calling even before he had picked up the phone. He was getting ready to go to bed and was sleepy and cross.

— Oh, Loon, my Lawn, my angel! Doom, doom, doom! the king bellowed.

— He got Orgone, eh?

— Yes, Orgone, my pride, my joy, my Crown Prince, my dauphin! Dead!

— And it’s your fault, I imagine.

— Yes, yes, yes. My fault, the king cried excitedly. — Comfort me, Loon! I need you to comfort me. I need you.

— You need me? the Loon asked, incredulous, and wary, too.

— Oh, yes, yes, yes. I used to think of you as my weakness, but now that it’s clear to me how much I am hated by my wife, I think of you as my strength.

— That doesn’t follow, the Loon said.

— No matter, it’s true ! asserted the king.

— Okay, then. It’s not your fault because you did everything you could, the Loon reasoned.

— Yes, you’re right, you’re right. I did everything I could, the king said.

— Listen, Egress, it’s early, so I’ve got to get some sleep.

— Of course, of course. I’m sorry, I forgot.

— G’bye.

—’Bye. And, Loon, kiss-kiss.

— Kiss-kiss-kiss, the Loon answered. Then he hung up, and, feeling a bit antic, wrapped himself in a flag and went to sleep in a corner of the bathroom.

11.

— Oh, Your Majesty, your puissance, I’m deeply flattered by your proposal that I accompany you on your pilgrimage to the Empire State Building, but, really, no one so kingly, so majestic, so all-puissant, so inspiring, so inspired, so chosen, so exalted, so with-it, so hip, so heavy, so together, so tough, so mean, so fancy, so witty, so refined, so sensitive, so enlightened, so manly, so kind, so sunny, so benign, so wise, so benevolent, so flexible, so awesome, so handsome, so clean, so sexy, so potent, so resourceful, so brave, so balanced, so sane, so stable, so innovative, so talented, so considerate, so disciplined, so skilled, so patient, so independent, so deliberative, so wealthy, so restrained, so young … needs me !

— I don’t know, maybe you’re right, the king said. Kiss-kiss.

— Kiss-kiss-kiss, the Loon answered, letting out a long sigh of relief. If the king’s taking off on a guilt trip, let him travel alone, he thought.

12.

— Loon! I’ve changed my mind. I need you. Either you accompany me on my pilgrimage to the Empire State Building or I’ll kill you.

— I’m yours! the Loon cried.

1.

The king showed up at the Loon’s tree house just before dawn, and if the Loon hadn’t been expecting him, he probably wouldn’t have recognized him. He had shaved off his bushy beard and had cut his hair short, rather clumsily, it appeared, with a knife. He looked a little psychotic. He was dressed in a burlap grain bag with holes cut in it for his head and arms and a length of half-inch rope tied around his waist for a belt. He was barefoot. In a small bundle, he had a wooden begging bowl, a string hammock, and a brick-sized bar of solid gold which he said was his Atonement Gift. Evidently, he intended to present it at the Empire State Building.

— Jesus, you’re really dressing down for this, aren’t you? the Loon observed. — Is it okay if I wear something a bit fancier?

— Whatever, was the dour reply, so the Loon put on a powder-blue, wet-look jumpsuit with a long gold scarf tied at the throat.

2.

It was already evident, from the king’s appearance, that the journey was going to be arduous. — Maybe I’d better bring my credit cards, the Loon suggested hopefully.