John Casey - Spartina

She hovered for a second and then Dick saw she was going to laugh. He watched her laugh get the better of her, and he felt a current of pleasure he’d never thought of looking for.

B y now some of the lobster in the pots he’d set would begin to eat each other.

Or a big eel would get in, go after a lobster, get hold of its claw, lash it back and forth, and tear hell out of the inner netting.

Pots would work themselves so far into mud or onto the wrong side of a rock, the gangions would break when he pulled the trawl.

Or a dragger would have steamed through with her net set, torn up a whole trawl.

Dick called Keith college-boy again. Someone else answered, said he didn’t know where Keith’d got to. Dick left another message. High time to pull the damn pots.

Dick started for the Neptune — have a beer, maybe see if he could pick up a hand for one trip.

He couldn’t get past Elsie’s driveway.

He thought if one day Charlie was driving the pickup, Charlie would suddenly find himself in front of Elsie’s house. The horse knows the way.

He told Elsie that. She was delighted. He was getting so he told her everything.

Elsie said, “That must have actually happened when people drove horses. What a way to be found out! I think there’s a Maupassant story about that. No — no horses. Just the son taking over his father’s mistress.”

She got him a beer. She drank wine. She kept beer in the icebox for him.

The house seemed very bright, sending out a whole roomful of light through the picture window. She said, “Dick …” and stopped. She said his name intimately and familiarly, but in a way that made him feel unfamiliar.

“Yuh.”

“Never mind, I’ll get back to it. After you’ve settled down. Is it my imagination or are you awfully restless?”

“No. Just worried about all those pots.”

She didn’t ask about the pots. She settled back in her chair, stretched her legs. “Have you seen Mary Scanlon?” she said. “I’m worried. I think her father’s awfully sick.”

She was slouched so low she used her stomach to set her wineglass on, kept it upright with one finger. “I saw Miss Perry’s light on last night. Very late. I’m afraid she may be in her manic wind-up before her depression. Have you seen her lately?”

“No.”

“Jack came over to look at the cottages.… They’ve sold more than half already. He came by here this afternoon. I thought it might be you.”

Dick still felt unfamiliar. He knew all the people, was interested in the news, but disliked the skimming, didn’t like Elsie skimming.… He couldn’t tell; what the hell did they do over at the Neptune but trade “Did-you-hear-about?”s?

“You know,” Elsie said, “I’ll bet I could get Jack to invest in your boat. He’s still feeling abashed — at least toward me — about developing Sawtooth Point. And he loves to think he’s connected to life at sea.”

Elsie got up and turned off the overhead kitchen light. He was grateful for that. But on the way back she put her hand on the top of his head and said, “Jack would do anything for me.”

Dick pulled his head away.

“ Be touchy about it,” Elsie said. “It’s a good idea.” She settled back in her chair. “I’m feeling oddly psychic these days. I can feel things.…” Then at last she turned full toward him. “Well, you must have psychic feelings. I’ve read that Icelandic fishing-boat captains find herring by having dreams. Do you have dreams about lobsters? Is that how you find them?”

“No.” He gave it a try. “No, their life is way down there. I can figure it out.… Look. Let’s skip lobster, I spent all day worrying about lobster.”

“What about swordfish? Do you dream—”

“I had two knacks. When I was a kid, I had two knacks that impressed my father. One was I could get in our skiff to go after stripers and I’d get a feeling. I’d get out to the sandbar and I’d get a kind of nervousness along the inside of my forearm. It would be one forearm or the other. That was the side fish were on.”

“Really? Like dowsing for fish?”

Dick wished he hadn’t brought it up; Elsie often wanted a lot of back and forth about stuff that wasn’t going to get any more settled than it was. He said, “I don’t know about dowsing. Wasn’t anything mystical. What it probably was, was there was so many little clues I couldn’t figure them one by one, so I just got one general feeling.”

“You want to try it? I’ve got a spinning rod.”

“That was when I was a kid. Besides, stripers aren’t running now.”

“Well.” Elsie said this flatly. Dick thought she was trying to draw him.

“You don’t have to believe me, I wonder about it myself. I can’t say for sure. I’ll tell you, though, I’ve been out with skippers used to taste the bottom. Captain Texeira used to use a lead line, even though he had a depth finder. The lead had a place to put a plug of wax, a little piece of the bottom would stick to it, and he’d take a lick. Maybe to double-check where we were, maybe he could tell something else. One thing’s sure — just about anybody can taste the difference in sea water when a little curl of the Gulf Stream’s broke off and drifted in.”

“I’m not interested in reducing it all to common sense,” Elsie said. “I’m more curious about the inspired flashes. But what was your other knack?”

“I could feel the tide. I still can, just not as well. I’d be in school and I’d start thinking about doing something in the pond and I’d know—”

“That’s not so amazing, you’d’ve seen it before you left for school.”

“Yeah. Maybe that was all it was.”

“No, go on. Don’t—”

“Maybe you’re right. But I didn’t calculate. I didn’t remember what I’d seen in the morning and then count the hours. I just felt it. Especially if the tide was coming in. I’d feel it rising in me. Up my arms and chest. Of course you could be right — it mattered to me, so I kept track without knowing I was keeping track.”

“No. I’ve read about that feeling.”

“Yeah, well, then I guess it’s okay to have it.”

“Jesus, Dick, chill out.” But then she went on as though she’d been talking along without his saying anything. “Actually, this was in a story, so maybe the author just made it up. It was a very sexy story. We were actually assigned it in French class. Incredibly sexy. I mean, I’d read Catullus but this was amazing.… I wish I could remember—”

“Are all these French stories the same thing as your bad French novels?”

Elsie took him in again. “Well, fuck it, then. You are on edge. You want to go to the Neptune?”

“I don’t seem to be able to get there.” Dick laughed.

“I mean you and me.”

Dick shook his head.

“All right, we’ll go in separately.”

“Elsie, it’s a fishermen’s bar.”

“I’ve heard women go there.”

“Yeah. Either they’re with some guy or they’re not.”

“Yes, those are the two alternatives.”

“Don’t be dumb. If they’re not, then they’re expecting—” “I’ll go in and expect, then. You may have to be quicker than you think.”

“Elsie, we can’t go to the Neptune. I know all those guys.”

“Well, what , then? Now you’ve made me restless.” Elsie got up. “Come on. We’ll go out in the blue canoe. I know where it is. We’ll go up one of the creeks. What’s the tide now?”