David Vann - Legend of a Suicide

Huh, Roy said.

Sorry, his father said. I’m just thinking out loud. I’m also thinking we can’t leave our food for this long. If another bear comes, we’re screwed.

So his father went back but Roy decided to hike on for a while, and though he thought he would try to think about what his father had said, he only looked at the water and at the smooth rocks beneath his boots and he didn’t think anything.

When he returned, his father was listening to the new ham radio. There was a clicking sound over and over and then a voice gave the standard universal time and a storm report for the South Pacific, gale-force winds everywhere it seemed. Then another channel and warping sounds with a guy far in the background talking about his great ham equipment, which was all anyone ever talked about on ham radio, pretty much, and his father turned it off and began cooking some rice.

Tom should be here again soon, his father said.

Yeah?

Yeah. And I was thinking. I want us to stay here longer, but I know it’s not fun to hear me talk about things like I talked about today, so if you want to go back to your mom and Tracy, you can. That would be okay.

We have to quit talking about that, Roy said. I already said I’m staying.

His father didn’t turn and look at Roy during any of this, and Roy knew his allegiance was being tested, that it was being gauged, so he added, I don’t want to go. I’m staying here until next summer.

Okay, his father said, and still he didn’t turn around.

Tom came again and told them it was going to start snowing more. He was standing on one pontoon and they were standing on shore, about fifteen feet away, as if in a different world, unapproachable from the water. I won’t always be able to fly in, Tom said, when the weather’s bad, and I won’t just be checking in on my way to other places anymore, so if you need anything, you need to call me on the radio.

Okay, Roy’s father said. That’s fine.

Is the radio working okay?

Yeah.

You have a VHF too, and you should be able to hail anyone passing through on that, and they can pass a message on to me. In case you have any more bears over for dinner. Tom grinned then. He was freshly shaven and showered and his clothes clean and he was starting to get cold out on the pontoon. Roy realized he had some kind of heater in the plane.

All right, Tom said. Enjoy.

He climbed up into the plane and started the engine and taxied around. They waved and then he roared away and was gone.

We’re here now, his father said. That we are. And the two gone into the wilderness knew not the excesses of mankind and lived in purity.

You sound like the Bible, Dad.

We shall trot through snow like horses and know more winter than Jack Frost. The lichen and the high reaches shall cleanse our souls.

I don’t even know what that sounds like.

It’s poetry. Your father is one of the undiscovered minor geniuses.

Roy laughed, and then he realized it had been a while. Then he followed his father inside.

It did begin snowing a few days later, as Tom had predicted, and they tried out the snowshoes. Though the shoes felt unwieldy tied onto their boots, they actually worked well. Roy and his father rose high on the mountain with what seemed to Roy more ease than before, since the earth was no longer pitted and they didn’t have to tear through the undergrowth or look carefully to see what would support them and what wouldn’t. With the shoes, they sank no more than a few inches with each step, and everywhere the path was clear. It was cold, but they had many layers on and, as they climbed, they began shedding layers. It was clear and sunny. They could see past the near islands to other horizons beyond, farther than they had seen before.

This is what most people never see, his father said. Most never see this place in winter, and certainly not from their own mountain on a sunny day. What we are is lucky.

They climbed to the very top and stood on the rocks and it was still clear. They saw their entire island behind and no other sign of humanity on it, only white mountains and the darker trees spreading below.

His father spread his arms and yelped.

Roy wondered and heard the echoing.

I am so happy to be alive, his father said.

Since it was still early in the day, they continued partway down the other side and hiked on to the next ridge and up to the next peak. Another glorious view, and a different one.

Down there in that valley is where I killed the bear, his father said.

Wow. That’s a long ways.

It was.

They walked around the top, taking in all the different views.

If you could have anything you wanted, his father said, what would it be?

I don’t know, Roy said.

You’re not giving the question any time to seep into your bones, me boy. What would it be? What’s your dream?

Roy thought and couldn’t come up with anything. It seemed to him he was just trying to get through this one dream of his father’s. But finally he said, A big boat, that I could sail to Hawaii on, and then maybe around the world.

Ah, his father said. That is a good one.

What about you?

What about me. What about me. So many things. I think a good marriage and not to have broken up the two I had, and not to have been a dentist, and not to have the IRS after me, and after that, maybe a son like you and maybe a big boat.

He gave Roy a hug then, which took Roy completely by surprise. He felt embarrassed when his father finally let go of him. His father was going to cry, he knew.

But then luckily his father turned and headed back down the slope. They continued on without talking, and by the time they were descending to the cabin, the awful locked-in feeling had gone away and Roy said, Who’s been eating my porridge? Who’s been sleeping in my bed?

His father laughed. It would be time for the cache, all right.

When they had their shoes off and were inside with the stove going, his father said, You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said about already having said that you’re staying, and you’re right. I don’t have to feel bad and apologetic after everything I say. I can just trust that you can handle a few things. After all, I’m never going to be perfect or without troubles, and I want to be able to talk with you and want you to know me, so I’m not going to keep apologizing like that.

I think that’s good, Roy said.

I appreciate it, his father said.

Roy read from his history book then, thinking he never had weird talks like this with his mother and then missing her. She and his sister would be having dinner now, listening to the same classical music, whatever it was, that they always listened to, and his mom asking Tracy all about everything and Tracy getting to talk to her. But then his father seemed to be doing better, too, and this wasn’t so bad, so he read on about the guillotine and tried to forget about home.

A few other things, too, his father said. I’ve been thinking about Rhoda and thinking that maybe things could still work with her. I’m having a more positive attitude. I think I could be more attentive like she wants, and make good on my promises and not lie to her. I think I could do those things now. I don’t mean to make them sound like merit badges, like little tasks I can just check off, but I think I could do better now. I might call the operator on the shortwave.

Sounds good, Roy said. And he kept reading. The people ran in terror of each other like a band of criminals caught, each wondering who would speak and betray the other, as if each had a knife at the other’s back. It seemed like he was getting very little actual information in this book. It was supposed to be a history book.

Weren’t there supposed to be facts?