Percival Everett - Wounded

“Hey, John,” Pamela said. She was young, young enough that I took time to think that she was young.

Howard had the back door open and was pulling out a couple of bags. “The drive over here was a mess. The snow is getting bad.”

“Let me take one of those,” I said.

“No, I wouldn’t hear of it,” Howard said. He turned and looked toward David and the house.

“And is that my son?”

“Hi, Dad.”

I wrested one of the bags away from Howard anyway. He walked with Pamela toward the house. I followed.

“Pamela, this is my son, David.”

“David, this is Pamela.”

David nodded a greeting. Howard tried awkwardly to hug his son while he held a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Let’s get inside where it’s warm,” I said. David led the way and I brought up the rear. I cast a glance at the snowy night, before entering. Howard made all the introductions. Pamela was even younger in full light. If she was older than David, it was only by months.

“What a sweet house,” Pamela said. She unbuttoned her big lavender coat and peeled out of it. She needed the coat. The blouse she wore worked hard to contain her breasts and her low-slung jeans revealed occasional flashes of her navel. Her boots were oddly appropriate for the weather.

Morgan showed absolutely no reaction, good horsewoman that she was, but Gus turned away and walked into the kitchen. He said over his shoulder that he would put on some coffee and water for tea.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Morgan,” Howard said.

“Me, too.” Morgan looked at the luggage. “You’ll be sleeping in the study. It’s a sofa bed and we hope it doesn’t kill you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Howard said. “Won’t we, Pamela?”

“Of course,” Pamela said.

David stood at a distance and watched, his face fairly blank. His eyes were angry, his body showed fear, his fingers tapping against his thigh, his Adam’s apple moving with his swallowing.

“I’ll help Gus while Morgan shows you the study,” I said. I walked into the kitchen and closed the door.

“That young lady needs to put on some clothes,” Gus said. Gus shook his head. “What is that man thinking? Why’d he bring her here?”

“I don’t know, Gus.”

“Why is he here at all?”

I shrugged.

David came into the room.

“How are you?” I asked.

David barked out a laugh.

“That’s what I say,” Gus said.

Morgan came into the kitchen, looked behind herself as she closed the door. “What is wrong with that man?” she asked. “They’re freshening up.”

“I hope that means getting dressed,” Gus said.

“Thank you,” Morgan said.

“I’m sorry, David,” I said.

“Why is he here?” David walked to the window and looked out at the snow. “Hell, he can’t even leave now.”

“Got that right,” Gus said. He sat at the table and whistled for the coyote. Emily came and sat to have her head stroked.

“Well, they’re here,” I said. “Let’s make the best of it. Gus, do we have enough food?”

“Plenty of food,” Gus said.

“They’re coming,” Morgan said and stepped away from the door toward me.

“That room will be just fine,” Howard said.

“It’s sweet,” Pamela said. “It has a real, ranchy, rustic feel. And I like all the wood.” Then she spotted the puppy under Gus’s hand. “Oh, look at the puppy. What kind of puppy?” She made kissing sounds to call the dog, but as long as Gus was touching her, she was not moving.

Gus stopped petting Emily. “She’s a coyote,” he said. “Her mother was killed and she lost her leg.”

“Oh, poor thing.” Pamela squatted and I was fearful her breast would pop free. She kissed again and this time the puppy hopped over to her. “Poor thing,” she said again.

Zoe watched from the corner, stretched out on her bed. She was attending mainly to David, I assumed because he appeared upset.

The coyote wandered away in midstroke and sat again beside Gus.

“You’re welcome to build a fire in the little stove,” I said. “The big stove in the other room keeps things pretty warm, but that one’s nice when lit.”

“Thank you,” Pamela said.

Howard walked over and put his arm over David’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son. I came so I could have a little time with you.”

David looked at his father and then at Pamela. “I promised Gus I’d help get the meal ready right now.”

“Of course,” Howard said. Then he looked at me. “Oh yeah. Pammy, would you run to the room and get that gift?”

Pamela left the kitchen.

“I brought you a little something,” Howard said. “This is a really nice place. I’m looking forward to seeing it in the light.”

“I talked to Mom,” David said.

“And how is she?” Howard asked.

“She sounds really strong now,” David said. “Like she’s found herself somehow.”

“That’s great,” Howard said. “That’s what I always wanted for her.”

Pamela came back into the room and handed me a wrapped bottle. I thanked her and stared at the blue ribbon.

“Open it,” Howard said. “It’s a bottle of Scotch. I thought I remembered that you like Scotch.”

“Thank you.” I peeled down the paper and looked at the label. “Glenturret,” I read. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s a nineteen-eighty,” Pamela said. “It’s aged in special cherrywood barrels. It’s got a nice flavor.”

“Thank you. What a nice gift.”

“Pamela knows all about whiskys and wines,” Howard said.

“I’ll bet,” David said.

“Is that your business?” Morgan asked.

“No, just a hobby,” Pamela said.

“What is your business?” David asked.

“Our flight into Denver was as smooth as silk,” Howard said. “That’s some airport. We had a little trouble with the rental car. You see they stuck us in that midsize. I reserved an SUV, but they screwed it up. It would have been good on a night like tonight.”

“No kidding,” David said.

“Why don’t we go into the other room and let Gus get on with the meal,” Morgan said.

“That’s a good idea,” Gus said. Then, to David, “And you stay in here and help me, youngblood.”

Morgan followed Pamela and Howard out of the kitchen. I started after them and stopped at the door. “Are you okay, David?”

David nodded.

The guests, Morgan and I sat in the living room. The stove doors were open and the fire actually looked beautiful.

“It’s like a postcard,” Pamela said.

“Let’s break open that Scotch,” Howard said.

“I’ll get it,” Morgan said. She touched my leg as she got up.

“So, it was a messy drive,” I said.

“Just awful,” Howard said. “I could hardly see the road.” He looked at Pamela beside him. “But Pamela helped. Right, Pammy? We got gas in that funny little station at the edge of town. I went in to pay first and he told me to go ahead and pump it and then come back and pay.”

“So trusting,” Pamela said.

“You don’t do that in New York, I can tell you that.” Howard smiled at Morgan’s reappearance with the whisky. “There we are.”

Morgan put the tray with the bottle and glasses on the coffee table. “I thought I’d let you pour your own. I’m having water.”

“If you don’t mind,” I said, “I’ll have water as well.”

“It is early,” Howard said. “But it was a long drive.” He leaned forward and poured a little into two glasses.

Morgan poured half her water into my glass.

“To the new year,” Howard said.

We touched glasses and drank.

“That’s exquisite,” Howard said. “You’ll have to try this later.”