Stephen Dixon - Frog

He squeezes her hand, she squeezes his, eyes still closed, smiles a different smile, one for him, but her face still facing front, takes her hand out from under his and puts it with the other on her lap. Why didn’t she keep it under his? Probably to tell him to keep both hands on the wheel. He turns on the radio. Damnit, Dvorak, dials around and back to the station he had it on, though it’s fading now so next time he turns it on it’ll be out of range, and turns it off. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she says, looking at him. “Did the music disturb you?” “No. And we’re nowhere near Wilbur Cross, are we?” “You kidding? You were out for what, ten, fifteen minutes? We’re just about coming to Westport.” “I spoke to Rosalie the other day and she said when we’re driving up we should definitely make a point of dropping in.” “Was that a serious invitation?” “Rosalie; of course.” “But the ‘definitely make a point.’” “That was my wording, not hers. She even said to come for lunch. That there’s always something good there to quickly prepare and eat.” “It means changing our plans, taking the Connecticut Turnpike instead of Wilbur Cross — you want that? What about the shade? And that’s an hour, hour and a half at least at their place, even without lunch.” “Hour and a half at the most. And if it’s lunch, we got that out of the way, so maybe a half-hour’s been lost. And we keep saying we want to see them—” “You do. I like them but, you know…” “What?” “Nothing.” “We haven’t seen them for more than a year, so here’s a perfect opportunity.” “Perfect. But if you haven’t seen someone for a year when you could have, maybe that says something.” “What does it say?” “It says what it says and how do we know they’ll be in in about an hour or however long it takes? And they’ve a new place north of New Haven, so it might be tough finding even if she gave you specific directions.” “She did. They’re so easy I didn’t have to write them down. Off an exit, then a road, lane by the same name, all lefts, last house and only shingled one and we’re there. It’s five minutes from 91 and then you get back on the next exit, so you lose, or possibly even gain if it’s a shortcut, three to five miles of mileage. She said to call just before.” “That means stopping and calling.” “We could do it at the next service station. While you’re filling up and the girls are urinating, I can call.” “I don’t have to fill up; besides, gas prices are usually much more expensive on the Merritt, and you’re going to get out of the car to call?” “Why can’t I? Just hand me my walker and some change, and if there are steps without a railing, help me up, and that’s all. I’ll have to stop soon for a ladies’ room break anyway.” “That I’ll do, anything, but the Shostaks? She’s lively and likable but he dominates everybody and has no sense of humor.” “That’s ridiculous.” “Well, if he does have one it’s always done with a French or Latin phrase or is so erudite in English everyone laughs because they think they understand it or are afraid not to because of what hell think of them.” “Not true. He’s very generous and sensitive, maybe it’s the occasional inflated fool he can’t take, but he’s one of the rare big minds who listens to what you say and usually has something to say about it. After all, that’s one way of showing interest in your thoughts.” “Still, the guy intimidates me with his conversations. Ancient law and politics, modern history and linguistics, painting, literature and music of all periods and the decline of culture and end of the LP.” “You’re as much for the LP as he is and you love art and literature and serious music of all kinds.” “To see, read and listen to, not to talk.” “You like doing that too, about literature, and we always come away stimulated by our conversations with them. If’ll also provide us with some good road conversation, which I love doing with you. Unfortunately, that kind of talk doesn’t happen enough with friends or you. It’s movies, vacations, breakups, bodybuilding, running shoes, food.” “He talks a few of those also, but OK, he is stimulating and I like talking about books I’ve read with someone who’s read and remembered them, but not all the ibid.’s and op. cit.’s and minutay and stuff.” “Minutiae.” “Oh screw that word. When it’s too tough to pronounce, spell and know the meaning of and then how to place it in a sentence, hell with it, and think if I’d have said it that way in front of him. The eyes! And later ‘Did you hear that minutial brain? And he teaches?’ Really, I don’t mean to put the guy down, for he is all the things you said if also a bit domineering and windbaggy and too much of the can’t-abide-fools. And for an hour or two I can tolerate it for the stimulation and later the conversation it generates. But I just want to drive on, only make the natural stops. Pee, feed, gas. Maybe we can make more of a plan to see them on the way back.” “You’ll give a different excuse then if you remember you gave this one.” “So we won’t. But sometime after. In New York on our Christmas or spring breaks or invite them for a weekend in Baltimore if you like. But once moving, I’m a slave to getting there, not stopping off and frittering away our time.” “Frittering? Is that a joke? Howard Shostak and it’s frittering?” “Wrong word, not frittering. Schnickering, pelickeling, but we’ll stick to the Wilbur Cross?” “Stick, stick,” her head back, closing her eyes. Dvorak, when she was getting birth contractions with Olivia and was told by the hospital to continue to record them and wait, an all-night program of his music when he wanted to listen to almost anyone else while they stayed up in bed. When driving home from the hospital night Olivia was born, Cosi fan Tutti on the radio; knew it was Mozart but wrote the station and enclosed a self-addressed postcard to get the opera’s name. “Do you want a rest stop soon?” “Now that Eva’s up I could probably use one to avoid an unnoticed overflow.” “Next one I see and probably to top off the gas tank too, no matter what it costs. That ought to hold us to Bumpylumppen or the first gas station over the Maine border.” “Fine. Anything, right? to save time.”

Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. It scares her because her ears are listening too much. Olivia doesn’t care. She sits there only to read and doesn’t worry if Mommy falls down and breaks her crown and cries from it or is yelled at. If he talks harsh to her again she’ll shout for him to stop, don’t dare do that, don’t scream, be nice, don’t be angry and mean, everyone here will hate you in the face and not talk to you ever. He has such a bad temper, gets mad a lot, Mommy only when it’s right. Now Mommy’s resting again it seems. That’s good because she’s tired and upset and before said her legs hurt. She wishes she could read because just looking at book pictures and the outside and into other cars except when they have kids in them and dogs and cats jumping around loose, gets boring. If they don’t have rainbow sherbert there she’ll make a fuss till they have to send away for it to a store. Are they in Maine yet? Probably not because she didn’t sleep. There’ll be a big bridge he said and the color of the road will change from dark to light and there’ll be more trees and beaches to see and cars with people in bathing suits in them and the clouds will have fishes and porpoises and seals. What’s a crown if she’s not wearing one and why do they say upset and not down? One year he said “Look, a seal,” and she did but he dived and stayed there and they waited but she never saw him. Daddy said he had a big mustache and glasses and waved to them before he dived. She wanted to know how come he said the seal was a he, did he see his penis? He just sprayed water on his window or it rained when she was thinking. It looks like the drops on top are racing down. She picks one with a baby’s face to win, follows it against another she hates because it looks like a snake, but the wipers wash the drippings away before her favorite one could get to the bottom. She should have told Daddy not to before he did, but then he might have yelled at her does she want him not to see and them to get into a crash? She doesn’t. If they died because they’re in the front she doesn’t want Olivia and she to ever go to different homes.