Anne Tyler - The Tin Can Tree

'Oh, her.'

'Do you like sitting out in the sun like this?'

'Yes,' she said. But she looked hot; she was too thin and bird-boned, and being the slightest bit uncomfortable made her seem about to topple over. James was used to Joan, who was unbreakable and built of solid flesh.

When he had pried the lid off his own ice cream, and dipped into it with his paper spoon, he said, 'It's sort of melty-looking.' Maisie didn't answer. She was staring off across the yard. 'Better eat yours before it turns to milk,' he told her.

But Maisie said, 'Ansel was laying down, when I went to see him.'

'He does that,' said James.

'I mean laying still. Not doing anything.'

'Well, it was nice of you to come,' he said.

She shrugged impatiently, as if he hadn't understood her. 'You were out doing something,' she told him. She seemed to be starting all over again now, telling the story a second time. 'You weren't around.'

'I was helping Mr Pike with some arrangements,' said James.

'That's what Ansel said.'

'I'm sorry I wasn't around.'

'Well. When I came in I said, "Hey, Ansel," and Ansel didn't even hear me. He was just laying there. I said, "Hey!" and he jumped a foot, near about. He was a million miles away.'

James was making soup out of his ice cream. He had it down to a sort of pulpy mess now, the way he liked it, and then he looked up and saw Maisie wrinkling her nose at it. He stopped stirring and took his first bite. 'Ansel's a great one for day-dreaming,' he said with his mouth full.

'He wasn't daydreaming.'

'Oh.'

'He was crying, near about.'

'Ansel?'

'Well, almost,' said Maisie. She sat forward, with the ice cream still untasted in her hand. 'I said, "Ansel, what's the matter?" But he never did say. His eyes were all blurry.'

'You got to remember Janie Rose,' James said. 'It was only three days ago.'

'Well, I thought of that. But then I thought, no, Janie wasn't all that much to him. She was right bothersome, as a matter of fact. We had her over for supper just a month ago, her and her family; we gave them chicken. Mama forgot about Janie being vegetarian. Janie said, "This chicken's dead," and her daddy said. "Well, I hope so," and everybody laughed, but Mama's feelings were a little hurt. Though she went to the funeral and all, just like anyone else. I said, "Ansel, is that what's bothering you? Janie Rose Pike being taken?" But the way he was acting, I don't think that was the real reason.'

'His feet hurt him sometimes,' said James.

'This is serious, James.'

'I'm being serious.'

'Anyway,' Maisie sighed, and she took the first mouthful of her ice cream. It bothered him,-the way she ate it; she chewed, slowly and carefully, even though the ice cream was nothing but liquid now. When she had swallowed, she said, 'All he would talk about was dying. He said he could see how it would all turn out; they would mourn him like they mourn Janie Rose, not sad he died but sorry they hadn't liked him more. He'd rather they be sad he died, he said.'

'Oh, now,' said James. 'He's been on that for days. It'll pass.'

'Will you listen? I can't hardly sleep nights, for thinking about it. I keep wondering if he's all right.'

'Of course he's all right,' James said.

But Maisie was still hunching over, frowning into space. Her ice cream was forgotten. A child ran by, chased by another child, grabbing Maisie's knee for support as he pivoted past her, and Maisie only brushed his hand away absent-mindedly. 'Those times he goes away,' she said finally, 'those times he starts to get better and then goes off drinking for a night and can't be found till morning. He'll die of it.'

'He won't die,' said James. 'He could lead a life like any other man, if he wasn't so scared of needles.'

'He might die,' Maisie said. 'What if one of those nights of his, he don't come back?'

But James was getting tired of this. 'Look,' he said firmly. He swallowed the last of his ice cream and said, 'Ansel only goes so far, you notice. Only enough to worry people. You ever thought of that?'

'What? Well, if that isn't the coldest thing. How do you know how far he'll go?'

'I just do,' James said. 'I been through this.'

'Can you say for sure how far he'll go?'

'I been through it hundreds of times.'

'I believe you don't even give it a thought,' said Maisie. 'That's what Ansel said. 'He said, "What does James care -'

'Well, we've got to be clearheaded about this,' James said.

'You're clearheaded, all right.' She jabbed her spoon into her ice cream and left it there, standing straight up in the middle of the cup.' "What does James care," he said, and then just lay there with his eyes all blurry -'

'I do everything I can think of,' said James.

'Oh, foot.'

'I try everything I know.'

'Then tell me this, if you do so much all-fired good. Can you say that never, never once in all your life, have you thought about Ansel's going off and letting you be someday?'

'Well, for-'

'Never thought how nice it would be to live on your own for a change, just one little old TV dinner to pop into the -'

'I try everything I know!' James shouted, and then noticed how loud his voice was and lowered it. 'I mean -'

But Maisie just folded in the rim of her Dixie cup with all her concentration, as if her mind was made up. Then she rose and said, 'Well, I'll be seeing you.' Her skirt was rumpled in back, but she didn't bother smoothing it down. When she walked away James stood up, from force of habit, and waited until she was halfway across the yard before he sat down again. Inside he felt slow and heavy; he was chewing on his lower lip, the way he did when he didn't know what to say. All the way across the yard he watched her, and turned his empty ice cream cup around and around in his hands.

In front of him some children were playing statues. An out-of-town boy was flinging the others by one arm and then crying, 'Hold!' so that they had to freeze there, and when he came to Janice Hammond, who was the littlest, he swung her around so hard that she spun halfway across the lawn and landed against Mrs Hammond, who was heading over toward James. 'Hold!' the boy said. Mrs Hammond looked down at Janice, who was clutching her around the middle. She said, 'Oh, Janice,' tiredly, and was about to pull away, but the other children stopped her. 'No, Janice has got to stay that way,' said the out-of-town boy, and Mrs Hammond seemed too tired to argue. She stood still, rising above Janice's circled arms like the figure of someone passively drowning, and called out, 'James, we're ready with Aunt Hattie.'

'Where is she?' he asked.

'Over there. Standing up. We wanted her to sit but she says no, she'll do it standing. Die with her boots on. She doesn't like cameras.' She came to life suddenly and disentangled herself from Janice, ignoring the other children's protests. 'She's fading,' she said. James looked over at Janice, surprised, and Mrs Hammond caught his look and shook her head. 'Aunt Hattie, I mean,' she said. 'Just fading away.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' said James. He gathered up his equipment and came after her. 'She looked all right to me.'

'Well, she fades out and then in again.'

They circled a little group of women, all standing in identical positions with folded arms while they watched the children playing statues. 'I don't like doing this if she don't want me to,' James called. 'Some people just have an allergy to cameras.'

But Mrs Hammond smiled brightly at him over her shoulder and kept walking. Out here on the grass the sun was still hot, and the back of Mrs Hammond's powdered neck glistened faintly. She had the same brittle little bones as her niece Maisie, only covered now with a solid layer of flesh. James looked away from her and shifted his equipment to the other shoulder. 'Right here would be a good place,' he said. He hadn't really looked around; he just wanted to stop and not do anything any more. The heaviness inside was weighing him down. He set the camera on its tripod and then leaned on it, with his chin propped on his hand, and Mrs Hammond said, 'You all right?'