Jensen Beach: Swallowed by the Cold: Stories

“There’s a lot of ocean between here and Peru,” Martin said. He pictured Oskar under the hot equatorial sun, the vast glassy expanse of the Atlantic spread out around him, veins of salty sweat dripping down his face and body.

“That’s where Oskar comes from,” Louise said. “He’s adopted.”

“He was telling me about his studies. Did you know they’ve invented biodegradable coffins?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Louise said. “Oskar has contacted his birth mother. He did it behind Pernilla’s back. She’s very upset. I just try to imagine how hurt I would be.” She stopped to remove her shoes, balancing herself with a hand on Martin’s shoulder. He concentrated on providing resistance. Louise lifted her foot and reached to take off her shoe. She then turned around and repeated the process with the other hand and other foot. He looked ahead and Louise looked back toward the house. She held one of her shoes against Martin’s shoulder. He smelled sweat and leather.

“I wonder if we left something,” Louise said. Oskar’s steps made thin, sharp grinding noises on the asphalt. She had a shoe in each hand and lifted them up in front of her at Oskar. “You’re not supposed to appear out of nowhere like that. How funny.”

Oskar scratched his arm. The veins in his hands were visible even in the twilight. “Are these yours?” he asked. He lifted a brown purse straight out in front of him.

“That’s only one thing,” Louise said.

Oskar dropped the purse to his side. It dangled from its strap, grazed his knee. “Can you drive me someplace?” he asked.

Martin looked at his watch. “It’s late,” he said.

“I’m waiting for a call. I’m meeting a friend but I don’t know where. Is the city center on your way? I’m meeting a friend there but I don’t know where yet.” He laughed. “That’s funny, I don’t know where I’m going only that I have to go there.” It had been clear to Martin that Oskar was drunk, or nearly so, at the party, but now it was obvious.

Louise insisted Oskar ride in the front. They hadn’t been on the road very long when Louise said she felt unwell. “I’m going to close my eyes,” she said. “Just for a moment.”

Martin rolled the window down. “Whose purse is that?” he asked.

“I found it,” said Oskar.

“You shouldn’t take things,” Martin said. He heard Oskar shift in his seat, and felt the weight and warmth of Oskar’s hand on his thigh. He looked down to see if he’d only imagined it. “Oskar,” he said quietly, “what are you doing?”

“You think you’re keeping it a secret,” Oskar said. He was smiling widely. “But you’re not.”

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“I’ve made change for you,” said Oskar. “Booth 16. That’s your favorite.”

Martin closed his eyes. “Whose purse is it, Oskar?”

“What’s your wife’s name again?”

“Louise,” said Martin.

“I think I remember seeing the purse,” Louise said suddenly from the backseat. “At the party. I saw the purse at the party, but I can’t remember who was holding it.” In the rear-view mirror, Louise’s eyes were closed tight.

Oskar squeezed Martin’s thigh once and then took his hand away, sitting up straight and energetically. He reached into the purse, took out a piece of paper. “Let’s see,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “A list. Bank, metro pass, rent.” Oskar turned around to look at Louise in the backseat. “Other people’s lives are so boring.” Martin noticed the skin stretched taut across Oskar’s throat. He wanted to reach out and touch it.

The tires whispered loudly outside on the wet street. In the distance, red and white beams of light dashed up and down the freeway. “Slow down, Martin,” Louise said. “I’m beginning to feel dizzy.”

Oskar turned back around in his seat. He put his hand back on Martin’s thigh. Martin felt each finger move closer to his crotch. He put his own hand on top of Oskar’s as if to confirm that it was really there.

“I’m right, aren’t I? Booth 16?”

“That side of the club is quiet,” Martin said.

“I’m a very spiritual person,” Oskar said. “It’s part of my heritage.”

Martin pushed himself forward in his seat, pressed his right leg against Oskar’s palm.

“I recognized this immediately,” said Oskar.

Martin closed his eyes again. The traffic light at the intersection turned yellow and then red as Martin passed beneath it. There was a long, high note from an approaching horn. He swerved to avoid the side of a speeding van. The car overtook the curb and jounced onto the sidewalk. It came off a narrow stretch of grass with a jolt into an empty supermarket parking lot. They weren’t far from the street. Martin heard the steady honk of a horn behind him but was too scared to turn around to see if he’d caused an accident.

“Stop honking the horn,” Louise said.

At the sound of his wife’s voice, Martin flinched and looked at his lap to see if Oskar’s hand was still there.

“I think I’m bleeding,” Oskar said. He opened his door and spit a mouthful of blood to the asphalt. “I must have bit my lip,” he said. He got out of the car and doubled over, leaning on the open door. “I swallowed blood. I don’t feel well.” He made a sharp retching noise, doubled over, and vomited. Martin heard it slap to the ground.

“Martin,” Louise shrieked, “he got sick.”

Martin didn’t say anything.

Oskar coughed and heaved twice more and collapsed back into the car, pulling his legs in after him. He breathed heavily. Martin watched his chest move. “In the fall,” Oskar said after a long time, “I’m traveling to Peru. I’ve always wanted to see Machu Picchu. It’s part of my heritage. Do you know I’m adopted? Has Pernilla told you?”

“Your mother told me about your boat,” Louise said. She put her hand on Oskar’s head. “Do you feel better?” Her fingers were obscured beneath the curls.

Martin reached out and touched Oskar’s cheek with his fingertips. “What’s our destination?” he asked.

“Please, Martin,” Louise said, brushing Martin’s hand away. “Try to be sensitive.”

Oskar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s all right. I feel much better now,” he said.

The purse was in Oskar’s lap. His hands lay tenderly over it. No one said anything. Oskar closed his eyes, breathed deeply. Louise kept her hand on Oskar’s head. After a little while she stopped stroking his hair, but she didn’t remove her hand.

“Lima is located inside a basin,” Oskar said finally. His eyes were still closed. “I’ve only ever seen pictures. I have family there. They’re going to let me stay with them when I arrive. Of course, I haven’t asked them yet, but I’m sure they will,” he said. “I’m sure they will.”

“It sounds like a beautiful city,” said Louise.

“I’ve always wanted to see where I come from,” Oskar said. He wiped his mouth with his hand again. Martin watched the tall birch on the edge of the parking lot shudder with the wind. It was all gone. Under the car’s interior light Oskar’s face appeared yellow and sickly.

“Look,” Martin said, “I’m sorry. I was distracted. It’s late, and I’m tired.”

“It took me three tries to get my boat to catch. First I tried to light a seat cushion.”

“Excuse me?” Louise said.

Oskar stepped out of the car. He adjusted the purse over his shoulder. Martin couldn’t see his face. “I used diesel fuel,” Oskar said. “That’s how I got the boat to light. Diesel fuel and towels. It was much harder than I expected. The seats just melted. There must have been some kind of retardant on them.”