Naja Aidt - Rock, Paper, Scissors

“She’s probably with Maloney, wouldn’t you think?” Helena replies, tucking a lock of hair back behind one ear.

“Isn’t he chopping firewood?”

“Not anymore.”

“I see them,” Patricia says. She stands and gives Luke a thank-you hug. With her head resting on his shoulder, she’s looking out the windows above the kitchen table. Thomas scrubs aggressively at a pan. She’s embracing another man, she’s smiling happily . Jenny and Maloney are sitting side by side on the pier.

“What a pair of lovebirds!” Patricia says, letting go of Luke. “Hard to believe they’re dating.”

“It’s so good for Jenny,” Kristin says, sipping her drink. “I sense harmony all around this family right now. Isn’t that so? Everyone seems to be doing better.”

“Better than what?” Thomas slams a breadknife unnecessarily hard into the dish drainer.

“Better than before.”

“Better than ever,” Patricia smiles, glancing tenderly at Luke. “In any event, my head feels much better now.” Luke smiles, and sits reverse in the chair Patricia has vacated. She’s staring at the yard.

“Luke sure has many talents,” Thomas says bitterly. “You must’ve really paid attention in school.”

“You don’t learn how to massage in school, Thomas!” Patricia turns, giggling, and collects her mojito from the table. She’s wearing her blue dress, the one he’d packed for her. In it her waist seems narrower than usual, her arms plumper.

“You learn by doing.” Luke’s voice climbs slowly from the center of his body. “Like most everything.”

“I think you have an exceptional talent.” Patricia puts her glass down, picks up a dishtowel and lethargically begins drying the dishes. Thomas is ready to explode.

“I like doing things the right way,” Luke says, tipping slightly in his chair. “To see things through to the end. One of the many things I learned from Jacques.” Thomas tries to catch his breath. He wants to say something, but Helena beats him to it.

“So you’re patient? Are you a patient person?” She scrutinizes him.

“I’m not sure about that. I don’t know. But when I put my mind to something, I follow through with it. I don’t give up.”

“Sounds heroic,” Kristin says, without even trying to conceal the irony. She reaches across the table and turns on the lamp.

“Or stubborn,” Thomas says. “Or simply naïve.” Luke tilts his head back and laughs. “Yes! He always said that. You’re a stubborn one, Kid. You’ll do all right . I hope he’s right!” His laughter fades. Patricia hands him his drink. He raises the glass to his mouth and slugs it greedily. Thomas shakes his head. “I still don’t understand how we can be talking about the same man.” But no one seems to hear him. It’s getting dark now, fast, first blue, then bluish-black, the trees silhouetted clearly against midnight blue. Thomas puts down the dish brush and takes a deep breath. Going berserk won’t do any good now, even if he wants to pummel Luke’s face. He lifts his head and looks out the window. He can see the moon now. A curved little hook in the darkened sky. Kristin follows his gaze. “Won’t be a cloud in the sky tonight, I think. You’ll be able to see what a blanket of stars we have up here.”

“They’re coming in now,” Patricia says, gesturing to the window, behind which Jenny and Maloney are walking hand in hand back to the house. Maloney wedges his face against the glass and grimaces. Jenny yanks at him, smiling and shaking her head. He puts his arms around her, lifts her up, and begins to run, her pale, chunky body squirming in his arms. “He has a lot of energy all of a sudden,” Patricia says, quietly, almost forlornly, and Thomas senses envy in her. Does she want to be lifted up wriggling and whining the same way she wants to be massaged by young men and vanish several nights in a row in her shiny shoes? He sips his drink. “Patricia,” he says. “Patricia.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says. She smiles and shakes her head.

Patricia retreats from the window, back to the kitchen table. She picks up a stack of napkins and lays one beside every plate that Kristin has set out. “Just have to wait for the lamb now,” Helena says, pouring the shelled peas into a pan, where a hunk of butter, a few pearl onions, and heaps of chopped mint are already sizzling. Thomas walks through the living room to the sunroom. He sits on the bench and lights a cigarette. But before he has even taken a drag, Luke plops down beside him in the semi-darkness. And he inches closer. “Can I have a smoke?” he says, drying his hands on his pants. Must be the olive oil, Thomas thinks, handing him his pack. His fucking massage oil. I hope the oil catches fire. When he flicks the lighter, Thomas is surprised by the light in Luke’s eyes. As if he’s consumed by a huge bonfire raging inside his brain, right behind the frontal bone of his skull. Thomas shrinks back. “I brought you your drink,” Luke says. “If you want the rest, anyway.” Luke hands him his glass, then takes a long drag of his cigarette and leans comfortably back on the hard wooden bench. Ice clinks in his glass. Thomas fills his mouth with the dregs of his sweet citrus drink, and though the ice cubes are cold on his tongue, the rum feels hot. He turns to see Luke’s silhouette. The cigarette dangles from his thick lower lip.

“What do you want?” Thomas asks. “Why did you come out here?”

“Now? I just want to bum a cigarette.” In the expanding darkness Luke’s eyes glow. “What should I want?” A pause. He blows a spiral of white smoke from his mouth. “Should I want something in particular?”

“No idea. It just looks as though you want something from me.”

Luke smiles. He flicks his cigarette away, and it lies smoldering on the flagstones.

“No, Thomas,” he says almost solemnly. “You’re wrong about that. I’m just happy to be here. I like this family. It seems as though there’s room for everyone, and I feel at home.”

He looks straight at Thomas. “You want to visit my mother tomorrow?”

“Your mother?!”

“Yeah. You asked about her up on the mountain. So I thought, since we’re so close to her house, you know, and since you know her. From way back when. Seems like the right occasion. To go over there. Maybe on the way home?”

“I wouldn’t say I know her. Besides, I thought you had nothing to do with her anymore.”

“I don’t. But I’ve got an urge to visit her all of a sudden. To see her. . as though from another perspective. With you. And Alice, maybe. Through your eyes or something.” Luke leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “But I have to warn you: it’s a freak show over there. She’s stark raving mad.”

“So you do want something from me after all?”

Thomas has the feeling that Luke shrugs. But he’s not sure. There’s something suddenly disarming about him. They can barely see each other. The light from the living room, behind them, spills into the sunroom in squares, small squares. Small squares of light falling on the eucalyptus, a few bushes, Helena’s lavender and spices, the geraniums. They stare out into darkness. Thomas feels Luke’s presence surging around him, a kind of electrical charge.

“You want to come?” Luke asks once more.

Thomas hesitates. “Yeah, sure,” he says. And then, “Are you in love with Alice?”

“No!” Luke shakes his head tolerantly. “You already asked me that.”

“Why aren’t you in love with her?”

Luke takes a breath and holds it for a few seconds. Then he exhales.

“Because I’m attracted to different kinds of girls.”

“And that kind is?”