Percival Everett - Wounded

I nodded. “So, how is the law business?”

“Boring. Basically, I don’t like my clients. Every one of them thinks that he is my only client. They call me at home and expect me to remember the details of their particular cases.”

“Howard is a tax attorney,” I told Morgan. “In college, he wanted to be a civil rights lawyer.”

“So, what happened?” Pamela asked Howard.

“Marriage and kid,” Howard said, flatly. He leaned forward and poured himself a little more Scotch. “When you’re young, it’s easy to be idealistic. It doesn’t cost anything. Now, John here, he’s managed to stay idealistic. He said he wanted to live on a ranch with horses and that’s what he’s done. But John isn’t like the rest of us. He built this place all by himself.”

“I had plenty of help,” I said.

“That’s a John thing to say.” Howard laughed. “This man is amazing. He’s always been better than me at everything. Well, part of it was that he claimed to not want as much, but I don’t know if that was true. What do you think, John?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know what to make of his words or even the situation for that matter, perhaps especially the situation. I looked at Morgan and I could tell that if she knew of something to help me out, she would have been doing it. I had a mind to excuse myself to the kitchen for some reason or another, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Morgan alone with them.

“What do you do?” Morgan asked Pamela.

“I’m a paralegal,” Pamela said. She said it without conviction, as if in some way it was not true.

“Pammy used to work in my firm, but no longer.”

“I hope there was no problem,” Morgan said.

“Only that we’re getting married,” Howard said. “My firm has a policy against fraternization.”

“Congratulations, Howard,” I said. “I don’t suppose David knows anything about this yet?”

Howard shook his head.

We sat quietly for a while. Pamela reached over and held Howard’s hand. I studied the man. He had been a friend for a long time and in all that time I was always confused about why he was my friend. We had little in common, aesthetically, socially or politically, and we’d never run in the same circles. Still, I had been the best man at his wedding and I was called the godfather of his son, though there was never any official church business. Susie had always flat-out hated him. Right at that second I was finding him somewhat objectionable and it made me feel bad about myself.

“We’re getting married, too,” Morgan said.

I smiled at her. It was the perfect thing to say. It eased the tension in the room and served to bring me back to the positive stuff in my life.

“Yes,” I said. “Somehow I managed to trick her into it.”

Gus stuck his head into the room and announced dinner, stating that it would be served in the main dining room.

“He’s referring to the kitchen,” I said.

At the table we sat in a painful stew of silence. The elk stew and the potato pancakes and the asparagus might have been as delicious as it all looked, but I could not taste any of it. I was worried about David and about what Howard might say and about what Howard would say and about what Gus might say as he watched Pamela lean her breasts over the table as she reached for the bread.

“Mother’s fine,” David said, for no apparent reason. Except that the reason was all too apparent.

“I’m glad to hear that, son,” Howard said. Then, “Gus, this meal is fantastic. What kind of meat is in this stew?”

“Elk.”

“You hear that, Pammy? Elk. We’re on the frontier.”

We were having wine with dinner and David was on his third glass. I didn’t know how to slow him down. Then Gus caught his eye and said, “Go easy on the wine, son.”

“David,” Howard said. “I need to tell you something.”

“What? That you’re going to marry Pammy here?” David laughed, but the silence that followed his comment made him silent, too. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m very serious,” Howard said. “Pamela and I have thought about it and we’ve decided it’s the right thing to do.”

“What do you know about the right thing to do?” David said.

“Son,” Howard said.

“Don’t son me.” David shot me a glance, as if for help. “You haven’t asked me once how I’m doing. I mean, really asked me. Well, I’ll tell you. I broke up with Robert and I’m in a lot of pain.”

“Robert,” Howard said with disdain. “There will be other Roberts and there will be more pain. I don’t understand the Robert thing.”

“Of course you don’t,” David said. “You don’t want to understand. You won’t try to understand.”

“Have you ever been with a girl?” Howard asked.

I scooted back from the table, my chair making the sound I wanted. “David, we’d better go check on the animals. It’s going to be a rough night out there.”

David studied my eyes for a second. I could feel the breath he let out. “I’ll grab my jacket,” he said.

The frigid wind was blasting through the barn. I pushed the north door closed after us. With the wind-tunnel effect gone, we were immediately more comfortable and we could hear each other.

“Let’s check everybody’s water and blankets,” I said.

“Can you believe what you just heard?” David asked.

“I’m sorry, David.”

“That woman is younger than I am,” he said. “Roberts.” David shook his head and then let out a scream.

I turned to a rustling sound and found the mule standing in an open stall. I chuckled.

“What is it?” David asked.

“This mule may be a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. Throw him some hay and close him in.” I looked down the barn line. “Then we’ll walk the outside and make sure the outer stall doors are shut tight.”

“What should I do?” David asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose you can decide that though he’s your father, he doesn’t have to be your friend. You don’t need his approval. You might want it; that’s another thing. But you don’t need it.”

“That makes sense.”

“And it was easy to say. Don’t use me as any source of wisdom, David. Just remember: There is a large bird called a pelican, whose mouth can hold more than his belly can; he can hold in his beak enough food for a week and I don’t know how the hell he can.”

“What’s that supposed to tell me?” he asked.

“That’s my point, son.” I slapped his shoulder. “Now, let’s finish out here before I freeze in place.” I could feel the work calm David, but the cold still drove us back to the house.

The whisky bottle was now on the table. Pamela and Howard were sitting next to each nursing glasses. The woman was making a fuss over the puppy, but Emily kept her distance, hanging tight to Gus’s legs while he washed dishes.

“It’s bad out there,” I said. “We must have six inches already. Where’s Morgan?”

“Upstairs,” Gus said.

David walked to the table and poured himself a tall Scotch.

“Well, at least drink it slow,” Howard said. “This is beautiful stuff. Aged in—” He stopped and turned to Pamela. “What kind of barrels?”

“Cherrywood.”

“Cherrywood barrels.” I could hear that Howard was tipsy.

To which David responded, “Fuck you.”

Howard looked at Pamela, wide-eyed, then laughed. The woman laughed with him.

David walked out of the room.

Gus tossed his towel onto the counter and said, “That’s it for me.”

“You’re not staying up for midnight?” Pamela asked.

“Nothing happens at midnight,” Gus said. “Nothing that can’t happen at ten o’clock or tomorrow morning. Good night, all.”