Joyce Oates - Sourland

Yes she told him. Oh yes much better thank you!

Though in fact no . Except in fairy tales no true pain is mitigated by a kiss.

“Because you’d had the knowledge, and hadn’t acted upon it. Your generation — your predecessors — and now mine. Human greed, corruption — indifference. Humankind has always known what the ‘good life’ is — except it’s fucking bor-ing. ”

Woods spoke cheerily and as if by rote. There was a curious — chilling — disjunction between the accusation of his words and the playful banter of his voice and again Leah was reminded of an actor’s face — a mask-face — fitted on the young man’s head like something wrapped in place. Defensively she said: “Evolution — that means change — ‘evolving.’ Species have always passed away into extinction, and been replaced by other species. But no species can replace us. ”

“Wrong again, Mrs. Zalk! I hope your distinguished-scientist husband didn’t tell you something so foolish. Homo sapiens will certainly be replaced. Nature will not miss us.”

Woods laughed baring his big chunky teeth. Leah stared at him in dislike, repugnance. This arrogant young man had so rattled her, she couldn’t seem to think coherently. Badly she’d been wanting to leave him — to return to the comforting din of the party — by now Harris would have noticed her absence, and would be concerned — but she couldn’t seem to move her legs. In a festive gesture Woods poured more wine into Leah’s glass and into his own but quickly Leah set her glass aside, on the slightly rotted porch railing. Woods lifted his glass in a mock-salute, and drank.

“Yes — we will miss one another, Mrs. Zalk — but nature will not miss us . That’s our tragedy!”

“How old are you, Woods?”

“Forty-three.”

“‘Forty- three ’!”

Leah wanted to protest But you were a boy just yesterday — last year. What has happened to you …

Woods’s face was unlined, unblemished, yet the eyes were not a young man’s eyes. Through the wire-rimmed glasses you could see these eyes, with disturbing clarity.

He’s mad Leah thought. Something has destroyed his brain — his soul.

“Well. I–I think I should be getting back to my party — people will be wondering where I am. And you should come, too, Woods — it’s cold out here.”

This was so: the balmy May afternoon had darkened by degrees into a chilly windblown dusk. Dead leaves on the broken oak limbs rattled irritably in the wind as if trying to speak. Quickly Leah retreated before Woods could clasp her hand again in his crushing grip.

She would leave her unsettling companion gazing after her, leaning against the porch railing that sagged beneath his weight. Cigarette in one hand, wineglass in the other, and the purloined bottle of Burgundy near-empty on the porch floor at his feet.

How warm — unpleasantly warm — the interior of the house was, after the fresh air of outdoors.

At the threshold of the crowded living room Leah paused. Her vision was blurred as if she’d just stepped inside out of a bright glaring place and her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darker interior. In a panic Leah looked for Harris, to appeal to him. She looked for Harris, to make things right. He would slip his arm around her, to comfort her. Gravely he would ask her what was wrong, why was she so upset, gently he would laugh at her and assure her that there was nothing to be upset about, what did it matter if a drunken young man had spoken foolishly to her — what did any of that matter when the birthday party Leah had planned for him was a great success, all their parties in this marvelous old house were great successes, and he loved her.

Harris didn’t seem to be in the living room talking with his friends — they must have moved into another room. The party seemed to have become noisier. Everyone was shouting. From all directions came a harsh tearing laughter. The pianist who’d been playing Liszt so beautifully had departed, it seemed — now there was a harsher species of music — a tape perhaps — what sounded like electronic music — German industrial rock music? — primitive and percussive, deafening. Who were these people? Was Leah expected to know these people? A few of the faces were familiar — vaguely familiar — others were certainly strangers. Someone had dared to take down Harris’s wonderful photographs from his world travels — in their place were ugly splotched canvases, crookedly hung. The dazzling-yellow sprigs of forsythia had been replaced by vases of artificial flowers with slick red plastic stamens — birds of paradise? The rental tables were larger than Leah had wished and covered with garish red-striped tablecloths — who had ordered these? Without asking her permission the caterers’ assistants had rearranged furniture, Harris’s handsome old Steinway grand piano had been shoved rudely into an alcove of the living room and folding chairs had been set up in place of Leah’s rattan chairs in the sunroom. The buffet service had begun, guests were crowding eagerly forward. In a panic Leah pushed blindly through the line of strangers looking for — someone — whom she was desperate to find — a person, a man, from whom she’d been separated — in the confusion and peril of the moment she could not have named who it was, but she would know him, when she saw him, or he saw her.

The mommy was at the University Medical Center Clinic where she worked — the mommy’s work was anesthesiology which made your tongue twist like a corkscrew — one of those words that make you laugh and cringe — you could hear it, and recognize it, as a dog recognizes his name, but could not ever pronounce it.

Mommy puts people to sleep the daddy said. Mommy is paid very handsomely to put people to sleep and to wake them up again — if Mommy can . The daddy laughed saying such things like riddles — the daddy often laughed saying things like riddles which made Tod uneasy and provoked him to say in a whining voice Why’d you pay to sleep? — why’d anybody pay to sleep? — you can just go to bed to sleep can’t you? Daddy’s being silly — because really you never knew if the daddy was being silly or serious or something in-between and not-knowing was scary.

This day was a special day. At breakfast, Tod knew.

The daddy waited until the mommy left for work then pushed aside the bright yellow Cheerios box and the daddy whistled loudly preparing French toast pouring maple syrup lavishly onto slabs of egg-soggy toast so the toast floated in the syrup and spilled out onto the Formica-top breakfast nook table. Some of the toast burnt in the frying pan and the daddy scraped it out with a sharp knife and the smell of scorch filled the kitchen, the daddy grunted opening a window and fresh air rushed in making Tod sneeze. It was one of those fierce bright mornings the daddy loved little dude so, hugged him so hard Tod shrieked with laughter anxious the daddy would crack his ribs or drop him onto the hardwood floor.

Love you li’l dude! One day, you’ll know how much.

The change in our schedules — this was what the mommy called it speaking in a lowered voice on her cell phone when the daddy wasn’t near — began so soon after Tod’s birthday — which was March 11 — when Tod was four years old — that sometimes it seemed maybe his birthday had something to do with it. Tod knew better but sometimes he felt that the daddy blamed him — for it was just a few days later that the daddy was downsized .

What this meant wasn’t clear for if Tod asked his father what was downsized his father just joked waving his hands in the harassed-daddy way as if brushing away flies Some kind of shrink-wrap it’s the principle of mummization which Tod didn’t understand — for the daddy said such things, to make you realize you didn’t understand — not just to Tod but to everyone including the mommy and Tod’s grandparents — and once — this was in the park, the daddy was talking with a friend — Miniaturized is what it is, each day I shrink a little till my kid and I will be twins and fit in each other’s clothes.