David Gates - A Hand Reached Down to Guide Me

“Huh,” he said. “I would’ve thought solicitous.”

“No, mean is good,” she said.

“But at any rate,” he said, “not a mercy fuck.”

“I doubt that mercy comes into this.” She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “I feel sorry for that man.”

“That man,” Cal said. “Oh—right. The guy.”

They started yet another joint and settled back on their pillows. But they’d smoked so much by now that it just wasn’t doing it. She reached over. Handled him awhile, then got her mouth down.

“Hmm,” he said. “This may be a lit-tle premature. Given that I’m no longer twenty-one. No longer forty -one.”

She popped him out, still limp—he imagined the sound of a festive champagne cork—and said, “I don’t believe in the soft bigotry of low expectations.”

By the time they got out of bed, the sun had gone down. Cal stepped onto the deck, T-shirted and barefoot, and discovered the moon, full, its never-to-be-deciphered pattern of marks, not quite a face going Ooh but not quite not. Sharp chill on his arms: you could feel all of winter compacted inside it, like a Zip file.

Back inside, he sat on the bed and picked up his socks. “So tomorrow?” he called. “Up with the lark, yes? We should look at the trails.”

“I knew it.” She came out of the bathroom. “Shit. Okay.” She sat down next to him on the bed and he unfolded the map. “I was thinking this one.” He pointed to a trail called Moose Meadow, 5.5 kilometers, marked with a blue square. A green circle means an easy trail. A blue square indicates a moderately difficult trail. A black diamond advertises the most difficult trail Ridgeline Lodge has to offer . There was a mind behind this: perhaps the mind of the ear man? Look at how they varied the verbs.

“Have you ever seen a moose?” he said.

“Of course not. Nobody has. Have you ever seen anybody die?”

He looked at her. She was looking at the map. “ There’s a question,” he said. “Not actually. I saw what was supposedly the Danny Pearl video.”

“Do tell,” she said.

—

They drove back toward the town looking for somewhere to eat. The sad little strip by the Northway had a McDonald’s, a Dunkin’ Donuts and a Ponderosa. “ This is grim,” she said.

“I should’ve asked our guy.” He pointed to the Ponderosa. “Okay, now when I’m president, every one of these will be required to have an Italian place next door called L’Allegro.”

They passed under the Northway. (So was she not impressed with the jeu d’esprit?) On the other side, a Stewart’s and darkness beyond. “Okay, this is hopeless,” she said. “Why don’t we just go in here and sort of forage.”

“There must be some quaintee oldee innee,” he said. “I’ll give our guy a jingle.” He pulled into the Stewart’s and got out his cell.

“Don’t, okay?” she said. “I hate to think of him putting a phone up against that ear. Look, I’ll get some treats and we’ll have a picnic in our room.”

“Okay,” he said. “You’ve obviously got a vision of this.”

Back at the cabin, she shooed him onto the deck. The moon had gone higher up and gotten smaller. As he tried to find a face in it, he heard the yodeling witch-laughter of coyotes, echoing off lake and mountains. He opened the sliding door. “You need to come hear.” Margaret stepped outside, listened and said, “Is that what I think it is? It’s horrible . Soup’s on.”

She’d laid out a feast on top of the dresser: Beer Nuts, Nabs, a Hershey’s Special Dark chocolate bar, a Slim Jim still in its wrapper, a rectangular bar of yellow cheese, out of its package, on a paper napkin. The pair of plastic glasses from the bathroom, poured full of Bloody Mary–looking stuff.

“Well well.” He picked up the Slim Jim. “Protein suppositories. What’ll they think of next.” He tried to bite open the top.

“What are you doing ?” She touched his hand. “I just thought you’d be amused. I don’t want you sick. This is the low-sodium V8, incidentally.” She put both arms around his waist. Side of her head against his breastbone. “So are we the two most awful people who ever lived or died?” She took a long breath, let it out. “I want this just to be exactly the way it is, you know? Even a little bit depressing.”

“Aren’t you the connoisseur,” he said. “Connoisseuse.”

She slid a hand inside the back of his pants, under the briefs. Dry finger at his asshole. “What would you think if I broke up with Morgan?”

“Is that in the cards?” He tightened himself.

“Isn’t everything always in the cards?”

“Well. I guess initially I’d be sad for you.”

“Okay,” she said. “B plus. B.” Took her hand out. “B minus.” She headed for the bathroom. “I need to wash my hands. You notice their soap, by the way?”

“Should I have?”

“Cashmere Bouquet. It’s so grotesque. That man with his ear, putting out the Cashmere Bouquet.”

“Presumably they’ve got bonne à toute faire ,” he said. “I think he’s more the concept guy. Or is that a pricky thing to say?”

She said, “I won’t say the obvious.”

—

He picked up his watch off the night table: ten of seven. Daylight at the bottom of the window shades. Sunday morning. Margaret was still asleep. On her stomach, head to the side, lips parted, bent arm guarding the head. Each exhale a growl down in her chest, thinning to Sssh as it came up and out. He considered the face: here we had what was agreed to be loveliness. But one was also supposed to intuit the pilgrim soul in there. He closed his eyes and kissed the cheek, as if a real person were kissing another person.

When he woke up again she was sitting on the bed taking off a shoe.

“It’s so incredible here,” she said. “I told the cleaning woman to go away so you could sleep.” She dropped the shoe on the floor and started on number two. “Actually, I think it’s his wife. I was down talking to him and I noticed he had a ring on.”

“Wait, you were down talking with him? What does he talk about?”

“I don’t know. He seems kind.”

“Hey, anything’s possible,” Cal said. “So what should we do about breakfast?”

“First things first?” She reached down and started rubbing through the covers. “Or are you really hungry?” Stopped.

“I am, to tell you the truth.”

She took her hand away.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing. Let’s eat, then we can have the hiking segment and get that done.”

He looked at her. “What.”

She sat up and started putting her shoes back on. “I guess we should hike a little. Otherwise we could have just fucked at my place. And had a decent meal.”

“Come on, I liked our picnic,” he said.

“Well, now you get to have more of it.”

She got up and started taking things out of the paper bag again, then froze. “Do you hear that?” Jet going over.

“What, the airplane?”

“I guess it’s nothing,” she said. “I always think, you know, it’s starting. That would be the worst, to be caught up here.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that surprise the nearest and dearest,” he said. “ ‘Um, sweetie? Where exactly were you when I was getting vaporized?’ ”

“I just have this fantasy of all these burned people who didn’t die right away, just all walking north in this big mass.” She shook Beer Nuts into her palm. “So what’s the worst joke you know? Like the most offensive.”

“I’d have to think,” he said. “Okay. What sits on a wall and bleeds?”