Philipp Meyer - The Son

“I am going to make us those refreshments,” she said, though she was not sure she wanted to.

“We ought to get moving,” he said. He sat up and began to gather his things. “It might be difficult for me to explain how bad I need this work.”

He started to stand but she took his hand and pressed it to her mouth.

“You do not know very much about your uncle, do you?”

She shook her head and kept hold of him.

“He will have me hanged. After I am shot and stabbed.”

“He will not,” she said. “You will remain on the blanket.” She felt jittery; she hoped it didn’t show.

“I am the dumbest man alive.” But he stayed where he was.

She retrieved the julep fixings from the truck, mixed the mint and sugar and a good deal of bourbon in the shaker, crushed it all together and added the ice. She had forgotten to bring glasses. She supposed he would not mind. She sat down again and passed him the shaker.

“That is a rather large refreshment,” he said. She noticed that in her absence he had spread the blanket out neatly, and moved it farther into the shade, and she was jittery again.

“I forgot the cups,” she said. “We will have to share.”

“I have no objection.”

“I doubted you would. This is my great-grandfather’s recipe,” she added.

He took a big sip. “That is a delicious julep.” He coughed. “My Lord. Be careful it doesn’t put hair on your chest.”

“I have been drinking these since I was a child.” She took a sip, and then another, and felt it go to her head instantly.

“Oh my,” she said. She lay back.

“You okay?”

She nodded.

“You look to be in distress.”

Still, he hesitated. He wasn’t like the others. She felt the annoyance coming back and then she decided she liked it. She took his hand and pulled him over. They kissed for a long time, in what she thought was a very considerate way; he mostly stayed to one side of her. Then she was waiting and wanting for his hands to wander but they didn’t. She began to move her hips and then he stopped kissing her and the feeling of embarrassment came back; she had somehow gone too far again.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“I believe we should continue our search for oil and I also believe that your great-uncle will kill me.”

He does not mean kill, she thought, he means ruin, and it was depressing to hear people worrying about money; she felt herself get cold inside. She did not want to look at him. She decided that if she never saw him again, she would not mind. Maybe that wasn’t fair. She made herself say, “He won’t hear a word about it.”

“Thirdly, though it is against my own self-interest to mention this, I can take one look at that house and see I am not right for you.”

She knew what he meant but she pretended not to. She felt tired, enormously tired, she was tired of these men being nice to her, she wanted him to lift up her dress or push her against a wall, she wanted him to stop asking and stop talking. “Do you have a bad reputation?” she made herself say.

“I have no reputation. I’ve spent my life chasing oil instead of chasing tail.” Then he added: “Unfortunately, and my dad was more the type to dip me in the water than send me to the whorehouse.”

“It decreases your risk of a disease.”

“Yes, though it increases my risk of losing a limb.”

“Is it really that dangerous?” A stupid thing to say: obviously it was dangerous, he’d just lost his father. But she found she did not care at that minute, she did not want to go in this direction, she did not care about his father or anyone else.

“It’s getting safer all the time.”

“You could do anything you wanted,” she said, “it is plain to see just watching you.”

“I happen to like doing this.”

It was quiet.

“Just so you know, my being broke is a temporary situation. Though fortunate for your family.”

She pulled him over and kissed him again. They stayed like that for a while, but still his hands didn’t wander, it was frustrating, she was ready to give herself to him, she had a feeling she might not ever see him again, she wondered if there was something about her, about her body or about her face or just something else entirely, that men didn’t like.

Perhaps they sensed her inexperience, perhaps they thought she would not be good at it, or that it would mean too much to her; it means nothing, she wanted to tell him, it feels like a curse to me and I want to be rid of it. Or perhaps they did not think about her that way at all. Perhaps she was simply someone nice to talk to. She began to feel cold again.

“I guess we have to get back to work?”

“We should,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. “Great. That is a great idea.” She sat up and gathered her things quickly and walked to the truck ahead of him. She could feel his eyes on her, he did not know what he’d done wrong, but she didn’t care. She wanted to go home.

THEY SPENT THE rest of the day driving, stopping every so often so he could make marks on his maps.

“How do people find their way around here?” he said. “It all looks the same.”

“It doesn’t look the same at all,” she said.

“Perhaps I’ll get used to it.”

“How long will you be down here?” She did not care, she was just asking.

“If we find oil? It could be years if I am not hanged from that oak tree in front of your house.”

“That is a cedar elm,” she said.

“We will see.”

“Do you always talk so much?” she said.

He blushed and looked out his window and it got quiet and awkward again. She considered asking to be dropped off at the house but instead she said, “Did you ever go to school?”

“To a certain extent.”

“What does that mean?”

“I am a proud graduate of the sixth grade.”

“I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Even that is an exaggeration, unfortunately.”

“You seem to be able to read and write.”

“As we say back home, there are coonasses and then there are coonasses. I am the first type.”

That night they took supper with the vaqueros. Hank spoke to them in Spanish. She could tell they liked him, though they were suspicious, and also, she could see, jealous, which surprised her. Her feelings came back. But when supper was over and all the maids and Flores and Hugo were cleaning up, he excused himself. “We need to get an early start tomorrow,” he told them. “Good night.” Not a word to her. She went to bed furious.

THE NEXT MORNING they were driving and she ordered him to stop to collect more mint.

“You are intent on making sure we don’t get any work done, aren’t you?”

“You’ll be here a year.”

“If your uncle doesn’t throw me off.”

“Fine. I don’t care what we do.”

“Don’t sound disappointed.”

“Too late,” she said.

“Are you really?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I didn’t know.”

This made her furious. “You are quite stupid.”

He reached over and tried to take her hand. At first she didn’t let him.

THAT AFTERNOON THEY laid a blanket out in the shade. She encouraged his hands to wander, which they did, but then there was the natural pause and it seemed to not go any further. She felt her interest peak and decline, all the heat seemed to go out of her, as if she were already feeling a disappointment that had not arrived. She decided to think about it mechanically, a problem she might solve, and she made herself sit up and unbutton Hank’s shirt, though she was not sure exactly how to get it off his back, and then she undid his belt and the buttons of his pants. He didn’t stop her but he gave her a questioning look. She nodded. Then he took over and a few seconds later he was entirely naked. And then she was as well. He was suspended in the air over her, looking at her breasts, at the rest of her body, she guessed he was enjoying it but he might also have been judging, either way it was uncomfortable and she pulled him on top of her.