David Gates - Preston Falls

"So, Rog?" says Jean. "Dare I ask exactly what you said to Mr. Miller?"

No answer.

PRESTON FALLS.

Mel says, "He called him a fat f-word. Just like…"

"Like what?" says Jean.

"I don't know," Mel says. "Sort of like what a kid at school said one time."

Jean looks at Roger in the mirror. "Is that true, Roger?"

Still nothing.

''Roger. Either you answer when I ask you a question, or no television for a week."

"I guess so," says Roger.

"Thank you," she says. "When we get home, you'll sit down and write a note apologizing to Mr. Miller. Doesn't have to be long — just say you're sorry you got upset and said something rude, okay? He'll get the point. And we'll mail it on the way to school in the morning. Right?"

Roger says nothing, pushing it right to the edge. But is it worth following through on her threat just because he's too proud to make some submissive noise when she says Right?

"Okay, you heard me," she says. "End of subject." The light turns green; the Grand Cherokee goes straight through, and Jean takes a left on Main. "So," she says. "How was school?"

It's 7:51 by the dashboard clock when they get home. Carol's door is shut; she's probably meditating. Rathbone seems to want to be walked, Mel and Roger both need baths, plus Roger has to write his note and hasn't done his homework. (Mel claims she and Erin did theirs together; Jean decides to believe her.) Another reason to be furious at Rosellen Miller: the woman doesn't even ask, on a school night, if a fourth grader has homework? She sends Mel up to take her shower and teUs Roger if he can write his note and finish his homework in forty-five minutes, they can read another ten pages of The Lord of the Rings and he can shower in the morning.

Roger makes his mouth drop open by way of protest, and Jean puts a finger to her lips. "That's the carrot," she says. "And if I hear one word of whining, it'll be zero pages. That's the stick." Though it's not a stick, she realizes. She's gotten so sloppy and permissive that her only stick is the withholding of carrots.

"But you don't know how much she gave us," says Roger. "And I don't know what I'm supposed to write.'' He's starting to pant.

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"And that," Jean says, "is a borderline whine. If I were you, I wouldn't waste any of my forty-five minutes. I told you what to write."

"But \ forgot." Full-fledged panting.

"So go up to your room and start remembering." Jean makes two fingers walk in air. "I'm going to take Rathbone out, and then I'll be up to check. The note first, then your homework. And I don't want you to spend more than five minutes on the note. Time yourself." She looks around for the leash. This, she knows in her heart, is just round one.

But so much for knowing in your heart: when she and Rathbone come back in, Roger's downstairs waiting. "Here," he says, and shoves a piece of paper at her:

Dear Mr Miller,

I am sorry I was upset. I didn't mean to say a had word hut it just came out. I get upset some times.

From, Roger Willis

"Perfect." Jean reaches to pat him on the head; his body stiffens, but he allows it. "Good for you. I'll find an envelope and a stamp — or if we get an early enough start tomorrow, maybe we can just drive by and drop it in their mailbox. Okay? Now: homework." She points to the stairs.

So perhaps a firm hand reaUy is the ticket. By nine o'clock Roger's finished with his homework, in his pajamas, teeth brushed, face washed. Mel has her nightie on and her hair dried. And Carol materializes to sit on the sofa with the three of them. Jean feels blessed.

"You know something?" says Jean, opening The Fellowship of the Ring at the dog-eared page. "I've been looking forward to this all day, just being together." No response. Which is okay too. "So where did you guys get up to?"

"Right to here," says Carol, pointing to a line space. "They just got done picking the people that get to go with Frodo. Elrond didn't want Merry and Pippin to go, but Gandalf talked him into it."

"Right, right," says Jean. "Okay, everybody comfortable?" Roger gives a little wriggle that's sort of like actual snuggling. Jean takes a breath, lets it out, takes another breath and begins. "The Sword of Elendil was forged anew hy elvish smiths, and on its Made was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and the rayed Sun, and

PRESTON FALLS

about them were written many runes; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and —''

"What?" says Roger. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," says Jean. "I'm sorry. Something just popped into my head."

"What?"

"Nothing; it was just stupid. I must be totally exhausted. You know, on second thought — Carol, would you mind doing the honors? And I'll just sort of cuddle up with you guys and listen?"

"Sure, glad to," says Carol. "Are you okay, though?"

"I'm fine. It's just been a long day." She passes the book to Carol, keeping her index finger inside to mark the page.

"Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again," Carol begins. Poor Carol probably thinks it's her fault, that Jean's come un-glued because of that stupid woman. Mrs. Whoosy. Jean scrunches her eyes shut; she can almost see Willis taking his penis in his hand, intoning, "It is Anduril, Flame of the West!" This was back when he was reading The Lord of the Rings to Mel: he and Jean were in bed, drunk as skunks, with a candle going. Jean would never in a million years have gotten involved with a man who made up names for his penis — sort of a class thing, in addition to whatever else — but what about a man who makes up names for his penis in order to mock the idea of having names for his penis? Like it's a point of pride for Willis not to be straight about anything, and if you don't think that gets wearing. The one time Jean actually hit him, just physically hauled off and hit him, was this one night — it had to be three or four years ago, because Roger was still into Barney, though even then he'd say all these contemptuous things back at Barney if anyone caught him watching. Anyway, Barney was on and Willis came into the kitchen, where Jean was trimming green beans, and he sang, "I love you, you love me, it's an easy i-ron-y," and she just slapped the knife down and flew at him and hit him in the mouth with her fist. So out of character. God, at least she didn't use the knife. Her hand hurt for days, and there was actually this puncture wound on her third finger where it had hit his tooth, and the tooth ended up getting an abscess and he had to have a root canal. Right up there on his list of

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unforgivable things, probably. Well, it was unforgivable. But so was shitting all over love.

" 'Just what I said myself,' said Bilbo." Carol does Bilbo in a pinchy little voice like a Munchkin saying Follow the yellow brick road; her thinking must be that hobbits are something like midgets. At least she doesn't do Frodo the same way. '' 'But never mind about looks. You can wear it under your outer clothes. Come on! You must share this secret with me. Don't tell anybody else. But I should feel happier if I knew you were wearing it. I have a fancy it would turn even the knives of the Black Riders.'"

Mel sighs. "This book is so racist."

"You used to love it," says Jean.

"Sure, when I was like eight.'' Mel gives Roger a look, as if the book were his fault, but he's just staring straight ahead. "It's like everything black is bad."

"Right, that's true, but they don't mean it racially," Jean says. "It's more like just darkness, you know? And also you have to remember, this was written in a different time." Why is she defending this garbage? All the bad people are swarthy, and the women are like forget it. "Still, it's reaUy smart of you to notice that." Good: pat her on the head after you tear down her whole idea.