John Casey: Compass Rose

Elsie was surprised — she didn’t think Sally let herself see things so plainly.

“More,” the doctor said. “If he wants more years, he’ll have to change.”

Sally sighed. The doctor said, “I’m going to give you something to help you sleep.”

“Not right now,” Sally said. “I’ve got to get home.”

“A pill,” the doctor said. “After you get home.”

Sally laughed. “Of course. All this is making me a little dull.”

Elsie said, “Come home with me. They’ll still be roistering around at Sawtooth.”

“Oh, Elsie, how will we get there? We don’t have a car.”

“My car’s at Sawtooth. It won’t take me fifteen minutes to walk there.”

“All alone? In the dark? Along Route One, with all those cars with men in them? You’re not wearing your pistol anymore. I’ll come, too.”

“So you can lash them with your pearls.” That got a tilt of a smile out of the doctor. Sally didn’t think it was funny. Elsie said, “Never mind. We’ll hardly be on Route One. Once we get across, we can cut through the old Hazard place.”

When they got to the stone wall at the edge of the Sawtooth property, Sally stopped and said, “What’s going to happen to all this? What will I have to do?”

Elsie said, “Mary Scanlon runs the restaurant, Eddie’s doing all the outside stuff, Tom Pierce can run the waterfront.” But before she was through saying this she saw that Sally wanted something else. Elsie said, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. I can get you help. You heard the doctor, nothing grave. All Jack has to do is stay in the hospital and then live sensibly. All you have to do for a while is stay with me.”

Sally began to cry. Elsie held her until what seemed like the last sob.

“Oh dear,” Sally said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be fine now. Except my shoes hurt.”

“Take them off. It’s all lawn from here on.”

When they got in the car, Elsie started to tell Sally the story JB told her, but Sally was caving in. She was all thumbs trying to fasten the seat belt. Elsie did it for her, and Sally leaned back and closed her eyes. It was only as they reached the steep part of the driveway and the tips of the overhanging branches swept the sides of the car that she came to. “Honestly, Elsie. You live in a briar patch. People will think you’re some kind of eccentric recluse.”

“You sound like Miss Perry. She once called me a ragamuffin just because I had bark on my shirt. From carrying in her firewood, I might add.”

“Oh! You forgot her picture. Jack meant for you to have it as a present. He meant to give all those pictures as presents. That’s something I can do tomorrow. If Jack’s all right. I don’t think I could do it if … There’s three of Rose. I know one’s for you, another for the Pierces. Who else?”

“Probably Mary Scanlon.”

“Of course.”

Elsie thought it might be occurring to Sally that these were people Jack had bullied in his landgrab, but Sally said, “Rose. You all have Rose in common. It’s wonderful, really. I worried at first things might be difficult for her, but look at her now.”

Elsie pulled up by the front door. Going around to help Sally undo her seat belt saved her from having to say anything. Sally said, “I can manage. It’s just that it buckles in the wrong place. And think of Jack Junior, who started out with everything and now he’s ashamed to show his face in South County. I’m not saying that out of jealousy, just saying how strange … Oh, there’s a note on your door.”

Elsie switched on the outside light. The note was from May.

I’m taking Rose home with me. I don’t want Rose to be alone, but I don’t want you to worry about Rose not being there. She’s fine, just kind of tired and upset, which is natural. I hope your brother-in-law is alright. In the morning Rose is going to help pack some things, so she’ll either be at our old house or moving things to Eddie’s. We won’t call in case you had a long night at the hospital .

Sincerely, May Pierce

P.S. I meant to thank you for your day of work in my field .

The P.S. made Elsie light-headed. Did May somehow have an intuition how that day had ended? Elsie put her hand on the wall. After a breath, she thought, No, otherwise not this breezy note …

Sally said, “Is something wrong?” She took the note and scanned it. “You’re not worried, are you? It just seems a nice thing to do. So I’m going in and take that pill. Shall I sleep in Mary’s old room?”

“The bed’s not made up. Take Rose’s bed, she’s away for the night. Her pajamas are in the bottom drawer.”

“Maybe I should call the hospital before I take that pill.”

“I left my number. I’ll stay up for a while, just in case. I may go jump in the pond for a second, but I’ll be back before you’re in bed.”

Sally hugged her again and went inside. Elsie walked down to the pond, hung her dress on a branch, put a rock on her bra and underpants — a breeze was still skittering in the treetops. She was in up to her knees when she heard a motor. It slowed, seemed to be turning into Miss Perry’s part of the driveway. She thought it might be Dick — Rose was at his house, after all. She was fumbling with her dress in the dark when she heard the motor more clearly, a more urgent buzzing than Dick’s truck. She got the dress on, pulled the zipper so hard it tore loose. She made it up the slope in time to see a single light bouncing over the last bump.

She waved her arms and said, “Turn that thing off.”

Walt killed the engine, pulled his motorcycle onto the kickstand. He said, “Sorry. I forgot Rose might be asleep. I figured you’d still be up, what with taking Jack to the hospital.”

He’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans. He was, as Mary Scanlon would say, a fine figger of a man. He was an embarrassment. He was someone she’d leaned out the tower window and flirted with, and he’d come up the ladder and fucked her brains out.

Walt said, “You forgot your book.”

“Oh God, that idiot cartoon.”

“I got it right here.”

Were men ever embarrassed by their mindless incidental coupling? What was embarrassing her even more than the fact that Walt had had her, had pulled orgasms out of her like fish on a trotline — what embarrassed her more was that he kept mixing her up with Deirdre O’Malley, that fun-house mirror reflection of herself.

“It wouldn’t fit in my pocket, so I stuck it under my belt. Just a sec. It slipped down some.” He put his hand in. “Damn, it’s in there tight.” He undid his belt buckle and tried again. “Wait. It’s gone down the leg.” He stood on one foot and raised the other. “It’s way in there.” He dropped his pants below his knees. “Okay, there she is.” He held it out with one hand, clutched his pants with another. She didn’t want to take it; it would be accepting that version of herself. But he wasn’t going to be able to pull his pants up unless she took it. On the other hand, she got some satisfaction from seeing him hobbled.

Walt waggled the book. The glossy cover — the caricature of her as an Amazon rippling with sexual muscle and witchery — blurred in the pale available light. She could take it and be done with it.

Walt was looking over her shoulder. He said, “Hey, Rose. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m not Rose,” Sally said. “Who are you? Oh, Walt. What are you doing here? And pull up your pants.”

“I’m just bringing Elsie her book. It got stuck—”

“That book,” Sally said. “You’ve caused quite enough trouble with that book. In the middle of Jack’s speech. It’s been a very trying evening, and I have to say part of it has been your fault. All those lewd jokes.”