Дуглас Кеннеди - Five Days

‘Go on, finish the sentence.’

‘No need.’

‘Why “no need”?’

‘Because. ’

Oh God, I want to say this and I so don’t want to say this.

‘Because the great hope in life is being with someone with whom you can weather all the bad stuff that life will inevitably toss into your path. But that’s perhaps the biggest fairy tale imaginable. The idea of—’

The check arrived, allowing me not to finish the sentence, which was a relief. I suggested we split it.

‘Absolutely not,’ he said.

‘Thank you for such an excellent lunch.’

‘Thank you for being here. It’s been. well, wonderful is the word that pops to mind.’

‘And what are you planning to do next?’

‘As in tomorrow, the day after, the week after, the month.?’

‘Very funny.’

‘I have no plans for the rest of the day.’

‘Nor do I.’

‘Shall we invent some plans?’

‘Absolutely.’

Another smile from Richard.

‘Right then,’ he said. ‘Can I show you where I plan to live?’

‘You’re moving to Boston?’

‘I’m moving just down the street to the corner of Beacon Street and the Common.’

‘And when are you doing that?’

Without taking his eyes off me he said:

‘In the next life.’

Four

I MAY NOT know the world beyond the eastern corridor of the United States, but I can’t imagine I will ever encounter anything more perfect than the inherent perfection of a perfect autumn day in New England. Specifically, this day, this afternoon. The sun still radiant, but bathing the Common in coppery late-afternoon incandescence. The sky pure unadulterated blue. A light breeze, the mercury still hovering somewhere between the vanished summer and the impending dark chill of winter. And the foliage festooning the Common in its autumnal eruption of primary colors. The reds and golds of the oaks and elms electric in their intensity.

‘Can foliage festoon a park?’ I asked Richard as we crossed Beacon Street and entered the Public Gardens. Had I asked Dan such a question he would have rolled his eyes and accused me of one-upmanship for showing off my love of ‘big words’. Richard just smiled and said:

‘“Festoon” works. And it’s more poetic than “embellish” or “adorn” or “decorate”.’

‘“Decorate” is a synonym I would definitely sidestep.’

‘It depends how it is used. For example, “Back then, the Common was decorated with the corpses of the condemned, dangling from trees.”’

‘My God, where did that come from?’

‘Once upon a time, in the early moments of our country, this Common — our first public park in the then-colonies — was also the public hanging grounds. Being Puritans with a rather bleak view of human nature, they believed that public executions set a fine example for the community.’

‘And do you know where exactly the executions took place?’ I asked. ‘Is there a three-hundred-and-eighty-year-old tree in the Common with a plaque on it, informing all visitors that this was the spiritual home of the death penalty in America?’

‘I tend to doubt that the Boston tourist board would want to promote such a thing.’

‘But up in Salem you can see where all the witches were tried and, no doubt, burned.’

‘They actually hanged a witch here on the Common, Ann Hibbens, in 1656.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘History is a pastime of mine. Especially colonial American history. And the reason why the folks up in Salem have cashed in on the witchcraft trials is because they understand that they can make a tourist dollar or two by playing to that aspect of American Gothic which everyone embraces. It’s the Edgar Allan Poe part of our nature. Our love of the Grand Guignol, of the freakish and unsettling. The belief — and this is the big one which all the evangelical Christians embrace — that the apocalypse is coming, that we are in “the end of days” and it’s only a matter of time before the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse show up to announce that Jesus is returning to re-establish his dominion on earth, and all the born-agains will get shuffled off to heaven, leaving the rest of us heathens here to live out our lives of eternal damnation.’

‘But, yesterday, you were defending the family values that all those evangelicals trumpet all the time — and sounding very Republican.’

‘How do you know I’m a Republican?’

‘Are you denying it?’

‘I have voted Independent on a few occasions.’

‘But never Democrat?’

‘Once or twice. But they’re just not what I am about. Then again, neither is the new Republican Party — which has turned so extreme and mean.’

‘So where does that politically put you then?’

‘Confused — and unable to figure out where I belong anymore.’

‘I feel that all the time.’

‘About politics?’

‘About everything.’

‘“No direction home”.’

‘Exactly — and that’s Dylan, isn’t it?’

‘It certainly is.’

‘You like Dylan?’

‘Clearly — and that surprises you, doesn’t it?’

‘Did I sound surprised?’

‘Yes.’

‘Pleasantly surprised.’

‘Because I’m such a gray middle-aged man who dresses like a weekend golfer.’

‘If you don’t like how you dress—’

‘I know. The C-word. Change.’

Then, looking into the distance, he said:

‘A truly perfect day.’

‘I was just thinking that a moment ago.’

‘I wonder if the British were as entranced by the New England autumn back when this Common was used as a camp by the forces of the Crown during the Revolutionary War?’

‘You know your Massachusetts Bay Colony history, Mr Copeland.’

‘Anytime I start spouting off about such things my wife tells me I am showing off.’

‘That’s sad — and sadly not unusual. My husband does the same thing whenever my vocabulary obsessions get articulated.’

‘But doesn’t he see that this curiosity, this need to learn, is an expression of. ’

Now it was his turn to terminate the sentence before it was finished.

‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Finish the sentence.’

‘I can only speak for myself. But. the reason I read so much, the reason my head has always been in a book. well, it’s an antidote to loneliness, right?’

‘I think so.’

We then fell silent for a few moments, continuing to stroll towards the Public Gardens. Richard broke the silence.

‘Now, as I was saying, the Brits used the Common as an encampment. And the hanging continued up until 1817. Oh, and there was a major riot here in 1713 when a big mob reacted against food shortages in the city. And do you know the Puritans actually hanged a woman here in the 1660s for preaching Quakerism, that’s how doctrinally extreme they were. And. oh God, will you listen to me, spouting on as if I’m on one of those quiz shows where you have a minute to show off everything you know about something so trivial as the history of Boston Common.’

‘But I actually find what you’re telling me interesting. And impressive. And when did you read up about it all?’

Without breaking stride, and with his gaze still very much on a distanced corner of this public park, he said:

‘Just last night, online back in the hotel. I wanted to sound erudite when I saw you today.’

I found myself smiling again.

‘Well, you succeeded. And I find it rather touching that you would go to the trouble of finding out so much about the Common for my benefit.’

We turned north towards the Public Gardens.

‘So, go on,’ I said, ‘tell me everything you know about this place.’

‘You sure you want to hear the prepared spiel. ’