Джон Макдональд - A Flash of Green

Or, he thought, I’m losing my mind. He had an impulse to turn that thought into a solitary joke. He made bulging, grotesque faces and went into a wild prancing dance, stamping his feet hard, and on the final whirl, hit his forehead against the front door jamb. He leaned against it, his eyes closed, saying in a small random voice, “Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-ay.” Then he could not remember or decide whether the faces and the dance were something he had willed himself to do, or something he could not help. A complete terror stopped his breath and soaked his body. He went feebly to a chair and sat down. He looked out the window and saw a dark red dog trot diagonally across his small yard, an exceptional length of wet pink tongue dangling. He felt an almost tearful gratitude toward the dog. The dog was like a hand on his shoulder, stirring him awake from a dream.

He called Vern at his home. Vern was having breakfast. His voice deepened slightly and slowed to a careful professional cadence as soon as he realized what Jimmy was calling him about.

A time was decided. Two o’clock Wednesday at the funeral home. Form to be filled out. Freese would have certificate. Sister Laura had suggested Reverend Kennan Blue, said she was sure he would do it. Notice in paper. Arrange to select casket. Calling hours? No, and best to have closed casket. Pickup Monday between four and five, Oklawaha, right. Bearers? No, it isn’t required. Committal service at grave. Limousines? Decide later.

He sent Teresa a wire containing the information she had requested.

All through the short service at the graveside, Kat had been certain it would rain. More than half the sky had gone black and the thunder obscured the rather nasal voice of Reverend Blue. Jimmy looked so odd standing on the grass in the daylight in a dark suit. Beyond a row of pines she could see the pastel colors of the traffic on the Bay Highway.

There was that awkward pause when it was over, when nobody was entirely certain it actually was over. And then they began to move quietly to their cars. Engines began to start, doors chunked shut, the first cars began to move away. Jimmy moved back a little way. A few people spoke to him in low tones. To each he responded with a small stiff smile, a quick nod of his head.

At last there was no one left but Vern and some of his people. She hesitated, and then walked over to where Jimmy stood talking to Vern.

“Glad that rain held off,” Vern said. “But it looks like that’s it coming right now.” They turned and saw the grayness slanting toward them, blotting out the distant trees and traffic and the buildings on Bay Highway.

“Come on,” she said to Jimmy. He looked blankly at her. “Your car’s at my house. Remember?” They ran to her Volkswagen and climbed in as the first fat drops began to fall. She sat behind the wheel and took her hat off. They rolled the windows up. The windshield steamed on the inside. The rain was a thousand small hammers on tin, roaring, surging and fading as gusts of wind rocked the car.

“I’ll wait’ll it lets up some,” she shouted. An almost simultaneous flash-click-bang of lightning and thunder made her start violently, and the fright made the backs of her hands and the back of her neck tingle. She thought he had said something about the lightning.

“What did you say?”

He turned toward her. “I had no idea so many people would come. Not here. Come to Shackley’s. I had no idea.”

“You have a lot of friends. What’s so surprising?”

“There weren’t enough seats.”

The intensity of the rain lessened. She wiped the steam off the windshield and started the car. By the time she made the turn onto Mangrove Road, the rain had stopped. They rolled the windows down. She drove cautiously through temporary lakes, and steered around the larger palm fronds and branches littering the road.

When they reached her house, he came in and took his jacket off and loosened his tie. “What would you like, Jimmy? Coffee? A drink?”

“I want to thank you for everything. You must have other things to do.”

“I have nothing to do except try to find out what you want.”

“Oh. Well. If it doesn’t sound weird and it isn’t a lot of trouble, I’m hungry. I couldn’t eat today. What I’d like, if you have it, is eggs. Scrambled.”

“About four eggs? Bacon? Toast? Coffee, tea or milk?”

“Wonderful. Tea, I guess.”

When she went back into the living room, he was at her desk, writing some sort of a list.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh. You can help, I guess. The people who were there. I’ve just been putting down last names. Killian, Borklund, Haas, Lesser, Jennings, Bliss, Halley, Shannard, Dayson, Sloan, Britt, Shilling, Cable, Tucker, Lime, Aigan, Lipe...”

“But, dear! There was a book to sign, near the entrance. Vern will turn it over to you.”

He looked blankly at her, then snapped his fingers. “He told me about it, and I forgot. And I have a bunch of cards to send out to the people who came and sent flowers. I haven’t got them yet. I ordered them. Now I know I didn’t order enough of them.”

“I’ll take care of the cards for you. There’s no rush about it, you know.” She stood beside him and looked down at the list he had made. “Sort of a truce, wasn’t it?”

“What? Oh, I see what you mean. Yes. The Palmland and the S.O.B.’s, all united in the common cause.”

“I think you can come and sit down now, Jimmy.”

She brought him the food. She sat with him and had tea and watched him eat with obvious hunger.

“Good eggs. Where are the kids?”

“At the Sinnats, as usual.”

He finished and sighed. She refilled his cup. He smiled at her and the smile turned into an aching yawn.

“You didn’t eat and you didn’t sleep.”

“Not very much,” he admitted. “It’s a strange thing. I knew it was going to happen. But I had my own reaction figured out wrong, all the way. I feel what I shouldn’t be feeling, and I don’t feel what I should be feeling. Do you know?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve felt all day like a dummy, a black stork. I was afraid I’d either cry and couldn’t stop, or laugh and not be able to stop, but I didn’t do either. And either way, it wouldn’t have been for her, somehow. It would have been for... for kind of the general idea of death. I can’t even be sure I’m human.”

“You are, Jimmy. Completely. Every kind of grief is ambivalent, because it’s full of different kinds of emotion nobody can sustain. There isn’t anything consistent about it.”

“But is it grief, even?”

She put her hand on his wrist. “Jimmy, the most wonderful thing you did for me a year ago was let me talk and talk and talk. I said some very wild things, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but...”

“And I’ll listen to all the wild things you want to say, but not right now, because you’re dead on your feet. The guest room is cool and ready and waiting, clean sheets all turned down for you, private bath with towels laid out. Now scoot.”

As she was rinsing the dishes and stowing them in the dishwasher, she heard the sound of the shower. About fifteen minutes later she tiptoed down the corridor. His room door was ajar. She said his name softly. There was no answer. She looked in. He was on his side, breathing deeply and heavily. She tiptoed into the room and closed the draperies. She stood in the shadows and looked down at him for a little while, then tiptoed out.

She was doing some stealthy varieties of housework when Natalie came over. “He’s having a nap,” Kat said in a low tone.

“Oh. How about at the cemetery? Did the rain ruin it?”

“Let’s go out on the patio and have a Coke or something. The rain held off just long enough.”