David Vann - Caribou Island

After work, she drove over to Jim’s office and was surprised to see his Suburban in the lot. She knocked on the office door, and a few moments later, he opened it, looking tired.

Hey, he said. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday, rumpled and a faint smell of sweat.

What happened to you? she asked. No phone call? And she gave him a big hug, happy to see him returned.

Hey, thanks, he said. But yeah, I lost my cell phone. Maybe it fell out of my pocket on the plane. Not sure. But anyway, it’s good to see you again.

Well yeah. I was worried. You dropped off the edge of the earth.

Sorry.

You can make it up to me.

Whoa, he said. I’m really tired. Couldn’t sleep last night.

Poor Jim, she said. Let’s go home. I’ll make you dinner.

I have to catch up on things here. Go for a couple days and everything falls apart.

I’ll help, she said, so they sat down together and went through all the reschedulings, messages, vendor orders, questions on accounts. All on yellow Post-it notes scattered by his secretary.

She sucks, Rhoda said. This is not a system.

Down, tiger, Jim said.

When they finished, finally, and arrived home, Rhoda made a nice dinner, ling cod wrapped in bacon, a big salad with avocados and tomatoes that were riper than usual. A pleasure to cook, to cook for Jim, here in their home. She took pauses to look up at the vaulted ceiling, all the wood. Had a glass of wine. Felt a little dreamy.

It’s ready, she called when she had the plates on the table, but there was no answer, so she went back to the bedroom and found him already asleep. Poor Jim, she said, and turned out the light.

Monique walked from her hotel to the Coffee Bus in the rain. Late morning, the day after returning with Jim, and she couldn’t stand any more time on her own. She needed a bit of human company.

The walk was not short, and the rain was not warm. She had a rain jacket with a hood, but her legs, in jeans, were getting cold and wet. The end of summer here felt a lot like winter. No complaining, she told herself. You’re the one who wanted to come. Alaska had seemed like an adventure, but really it felt pretty tame. You see a moose a few times and they start to look normal, like cows. The glacier had been cool, though.

She walked past a long strip mall, all single story, then an abandoned lot with an old car and other debris at the edge of a forest. Hicklandia, she said aloud. The ground decorated with bits of rust.

The Coffee Bus sat on an empty corner, a large gravel lot. An old white bus, perhaps a mini schoolbus painted over, and an awning coming out the side, steps leading up to a window. No drive-thru.

Hey Mark, she said once she was under the awning.

Dude, he said. Carl is like beside himself in grief. It’s kind of funny you just left him at that campground.

Shouldn’t you be out fishing?

Owner decided to take a break for a day or two. Wanted me to polish up the boat in the meantime and be her lackey, but that’s not me.

Hey Monique, Karen said.

Monique said hey back.

Come inside and have a coffee.

Monique went around to the back door, climbed in, and sat on a stool. The inside of the bus smelled like a roaster, the air thick and rich.

So where have you been? Karen asked.

Monique told them about Seward, minus Jim, and said she crashed with people she met. She asked about Carl, who was pining away for her, apparently. She hoped they’d offer her a ride out to the campground, but they offered Rhoda.

She comes by just after noon, Mark said. Like clockwork. She’ll give you a lift.

Okay, Monique said, and it wasn’t long before Rhoda appeared and agreed. It was a long way out to the campsite, but Rhoda didn’t seem bothered. I’d be happy to, she said, with a faint nod downward, oddly formal, a motion that could have accompanied a curtsey.

Thank you, Monique said, and walked out to Rhoda’s car, something less than a royal carriage. A Datsun, a brand that didn’t even exist anymore. Definitely in the pumpkin realm.

To my rescue, Monique said.

No problem, Rhoda said. Tell me about your travels. Have you been here all summer?

We’ve been everywhere. Up on the ferry, on to Denali and Fairbanks, finishing here on the peninsula. Carl is on a quest to become a man. A big fish will do that for him, apparently.

Rhoda laughed. Why can’t they just be men? Why do they have to become men?

Exactly.

I’ve got an unhatched one myself. A dentist named Jim.

I’ve met him, Monique said. The Coffee Bus. Mark introduced us.

Did it seem like he didn’t say hello?

It was kind of quiet.

He does that. People think he’s not saying hello, but he is.

He seemed all right, Monique said. She was looking at Rhoda, thinking Rhoda was very attractive in her way. And she wanted almost to tell Rhoda the truth, right then, right from the start, to save her from Jim, but that seemed pointless. Rhoda and Jim would carry on in their small lives no matter what Monique did. You grew up here? she asked Rhoda.

Yep. On Skilak Lake. A great place to grow up. Always free to roam around.

Any run-ins with bears?

A few times.

Can you tell me? I like stories about bears.

Well there’s one you’re not going to believe.

Yay! Monique said. A good one. I can tell it’s going to be a good one. And she turned sideways in her seat to give Rhoda her full attention.

I’m four years old, Rhoda said. One of my earliest memories. I’m wearing my red jacket, with the hood.

Little Red Riding Hood.

Exactly. I loved that jacket.

This is perfect.

I’m on the first hill behind the house, looking for blueberries. It’s August, still summer, but already turning cold. Later that week, we got snow, which almost never happens in August.

Wow, Monique said.

And maybe the bears are more desperate because of the early cold. I don’t know. But I’m looking down at a blueberry bush and I feel like someone is watching me. I just look up for some reason, and about twenty feet away from me is an enormous bear.

Oh my god.

Yeah, a really big brown bear. Not a black bear, which would maybe be okay. And you never see a bear this close. They don’t come up to you like this. They go the other way. You startle them, and they run off. But this one was so close, it must have smelled me or heard me and come closer.

What did you do?

That’s the thing. I didn’t do anything. I just stood there and watched it, and it watched me. It was beautiful and seemed friendly, like a big dog. I said hi, and its head swayed back and forth a little, then it turned and ran.

You said hi.

Yeah, I said hi, and now I work for a vet. I’ve always had this good feeling about animals, that they don’t ever really want to hurt us. We just get in their way sometimes.

You win for best bear story.

They arrived at the campground, and Monique directed Rhoda to the tent. They parked very close, and Carl poked his head out.

Hey, Monique said.

What the fuck, Carl said.

Don’t be mad.

It’s raining and miserable, Rhoda said. Why don’t you both come to our place. You can dry out for the day, have dinner, spend the night. I’ll bring you back here tomorrow at lunch.

Monique laughed. Jim would freak. That sounds great, she said. What do you say, Carl? Mope here by yourself or rejoin human society?

I’m coming, Carl said. I hate this tent.

The logs were not all the same. Some lighter-colored birch, thin bark like paper. Then darker spruce. Every variety of tree from this part of Alaska. And not one of them straight. Knots and bumps and the nubs of sawed-off branches. Gary kept picking up an end and sighting down it, dropping it and moving on to the next.