Thomas Mcguane - The Cadence of Grass

“Bitch is a terrible word, isn’t it?”

“Lucy was a bitch,” said Natalie, and suddenly both women were weeping. When they were girls, they shared a Labrador retriever named Lucy, whom their father would not allow in the house. Twenty years previous, on Christmas Eve, the then old and silver-muzzled Lucy froze to death under the wreath on the front door. Natalie’s heart broke as much for her father as for Lucy, whereas Evelyn concluded he was just one of life’s nasty surprises and treated him with unyielding distance. “She’s a cold one,” Sunny Jim later said of Evelyn, only a little chagrined by the feeling that the oldest girl had his number, and completely unaware of the agony he produced in her.

Evelyn loved Natalie’s food and so did Paul, who owned a sensitive palate among other refinements including prairie architecture, Porsches and Eames furniture. He spotted Art Deco details on buildings, radios and furniture; and for a while was besotted by Bakelite. Sharing his quest for esoteric collectibles, Natalie was once able to discover what a short leap it was from Bakelite to sordid motels on the interstate and the subsequent raw and bankrupt carnival.

“I love you, Evie, and I don’t want you to do what’s not right.”

“I love you too, Nat.”

“Now,” Natalie sobbed, “we shall simply have to downsize.”

“My God!” Evelyn snapped. “What do you expect?”

Natalie flung her face up, awash with tears, damp hair tangled at her temples. “I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d drum up some fucking white marriage , some ill u sion to get the rest of us living like human beings .”

“What about my life?” Evelyn shouted.

“What about it? Does mine have to disappear while you review what makes you comfortable?”

Evelyn stood and said, “Thank you for a lovely lunch.”

Natalie bowed her head and did not look up when her sister departed. After a decent interval and a deep breath, she consulted her watch, then gave a small sigh.

It was time to go to town.

When Evelyn called her mother to explain she had to pick up some medicine for Bill and would be a few minutes late, Alice said with perfect sincerity, “Bill comes first.”

Why was she always so utterly solicitous on his account, Evelyn wondered, standing in line at the pharmacist’s window while the two men in front of her had a conversation she couldn’t help overhearing. “… pulled it out and cleaned it up. Maybe I knocked a hole in it, put the acid to it and then… damned if I know. It don’t look dirty but it is. I went on ahead and clamped it but then it dropped several amps. Must be dirty…” Men were always talking like this: you couldn’t understand a thing they were saying.

Once she’d paid for the prescription, Evelyn started up the icy sidewalk toward her car. Coming from the opposite direction was a dandyish male wavering in the poor light of a fall afternoon. Before the figure finally emerged into deep focus, Evelyn felt something of an anxious chill. It was Paul, of course.

“Hello, Evelyn,” he said levelly.

She busied herself tying a better knot in the green silk scarf she’d wound around her neck. “Paul. I’m afraid I didn’t recognize you at first.”

He smiled. “So, Evelyn, why don’t we ever see you down at the plant? Those are your vital interests.”

“It’s never really fascinated me, Paul.”

“But it’s on-the-job training for the new CEO, and I’ve got all these dependents!”

“How do you stand it?”

His smile seemed unevenly distributed on his face. “It’s a living.”

“I picture a ship without a rudder.”

“Oh? We’ve already been approached by a broker out of Atlanta, Joel Kram, old southern family. He made a fortune with a caffeine-laced dairy product called Kreem, then lost half of it defending himself in lawsuits. He used stock footage of Martin Luther King’s famous speech in his ads and dubbed in the word ‘Kreem’ for ‘dream.’”

“Do we have to meet Mr. Kram?” Evelyn’s arms hung straight at her sides, and she was unafraid.

“I tell you he’s real. I’ll tape a Dun and Bradstreet to his face so you can read his balance sheet while speaking to him.”

Evelyn was tired of listening to him. “I hope you do something . From what I hear, you’re running it into the ground.” Then she walked away, skin crawling at this brush of his wings. She was entirely uncertain if she was widening the distance.

“Paul has offered to lend me his luggage for my trip,” Alice said, standing stocking-footed in the carpet beside neat piles of her travel clothing. “Isn’t that nice?”

“You’ve got your own luggage,” said Evelyn, somewhat shortly.

“Paul says it’s inadequate.”

“He does, does he? Well, Paul loves his luggage in an immoderate way. It’s some kind of English aluminum stuff, like aircraft material. He had a briefcase made out of the same thing, looked like robot luggage or something.”

“It’s very rugged. And, Evelyn, I am going to Alaska.”

“Mother, I don’t think it’s necessary to pack as if this were an expedition. I read the brochure, and it’s all a safe and pleasant illusion. If you don’t want to meet the natives—”

“On National Geographic they tossed people up in the air with a blanket!”

“—you can tough it out with a manicure and a facial.”

“Speaking of which, you look a fright.”

“We’ve been worming cattle.”

“You and Bill?”

“Yes.”

“Is he well?”

“You can’t hurt him with a crowbar.”

“A beautiful man on a horse.”

“What’s that?”

“Bill Champion,” said her mother, “rides well.” Then she moved quickly downstairs to the kitchen.

“Yes, but so did you,” Evelyn called, following behind.

“Long ago, angel, long ago.”

“I bet it’s still there.” She swept toast crumbs from the counter into her palm and slapped her hands together over the sink. “Bill said you were right there, right in the middle of it.”

“That’s very kind, but I don’t quite know how he thinks he knows.”

“Bill knows everything. Said, ‘Alice was a queen.’”

“Oh, my!”

“Mother, your face is red! That’s just the cutest thing!” Evelyn was elated that her mother was sufficiently undefeated by her father’s death to venture a blush. She picked up the swatter and nailed a fly against the window, fearful that as various intrusions began, this house would become like one of the hulks one saw along old roads. “I can’t believe all the health claims on these tea bags.”

Once in the living room, and while the tea steeped, Alice Whitelaw said, “You realize I had nothing to do with your father’s estate planning.”

“Of course I do, Mother. I don’t argue with it anyway. If you aren’t free to plan your own estate, I guess you’re never free.” She recognized her own perverse chipperness. Her hands were in her lap.

“Your father felt very strongly about the sanctity of marriage. He desperately wanted to see yours restored. And he was very fond of Paul.”

“Sanctity?”

“That will do, Evelyn.”

“Reconciling with Paul for the purpose of liberating assets? I don’t know.”

“Only I suppose if the rest of us should fall on hard times. Natalie nearly reduced to groveling as it is.”

Evelyn felt sick. “Mother, aren’t you worried about being with that many strangers? It’s not such an easy time for you, you know. But Alaska —”

“Right now, Evie, it is so very hard to be among familiar things. Of course I dread being with all those unknown faces, but if I can get over that , maybe I can begin to handle the rest of my life. Sometimes people get on these cruises and it’s all widows. And they have a refrigerated compartment for people who die en route.”