Joy Williams - The Visiting Privilege - New and Collected Stories

“Her wide white wings,” Tim said, weeping.

Lucretia gave a party out of turn. Everyone came except Dianne and Tim. Walter asked Louise about the dog.

“Old Broom,” Louise answered. “Poor Broom.” The dog was not demanding. It was modest in its requirements. It could square itself off like a package in a chair, it could actually resemble a package, but that was about it. Everyone half expected that Broom would have disappeared by now, run away.

“Listen,” Lucretia said. “I’ll tell you. One of those glasses I was given got a little chip on the rim and I found myself going to a jeweler’s and getting an estimate for filing it down. It cost seventy-five dollars and I paid for it, but I’m not picking it up. I didn’t even give them the right telephone number. I decided, enough’s enough.”

Walter confessed that he had thrown away the silk pajamas immediately, without a modicum of ceremony.

“None of it makes a bit of sense,” Betsy said. “What would I want with barbells? I took those barbells down to the park and left them by the softball field. You’re a saint, Louise. I could see you maybe not wanting to take it to the pound, but I always thought, She’s going to take it to a no-kill facility.”

“What do you mean,” Louise asked.

“A no-kill facility. Isn’t that self-explanatory?”

“Well, no,” Louise said, “not really. I mean it doesn’t sound all that great somehow.”

“Most places keep unwanted pets for two weeks and then, if they’re not adopted, they put them to sleep.”

“Put them to sleep,” Louise said. She didn’t know anybody said that anymore and here was her friend Betsy saying it. It sounded like something you’d do with a small child in a pretty room while it was still light out.

“And these people never do. I’ve just heard about these places, I’ve never seen one. I don’t think there are many of them, but they are around.”

“I don’t like the sound of it either,” Andrew said, “oddly enough.”

“You know that woman came into the florist’s the other day to buy roses and I said to her, ‘Oh no! Has Buckie bitten someone again?’ ” Louise said.

Her friends looked at her.

“And she said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ ” Louise laughed. “She was pretending she wasn’t the same person.”

Louise always wanted to talk about Broom with the others until they actually wanted to discuss him, then she didn’t want to anymore.

Early one evening after work, Louise was sitting on the front steps of her house when a van pulled up across the street and a man got out. Louise was startled to see him walk over to her. He was deeply tanned with a ragged haircut. The collar of his shirt was too big for him.

“How do you do, Louise?” he said. “I’m Elliot’s brother.”

Louise cast herself back, remembering Elliot. She found him with more difficulty than usual, but then she had him, Elliot, she could see him. It was still him, exactly. Powerful Elliot. She said to the man, “You don’t look at all like Elliot.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “I’ve been ill and out of the country. I couldn’t travel, but I got here as soon as I was able. Elliot and I had quarreled. You can’t imagine the pettiness of our quarrel, it was over nothing. We hadn’t spoken for two years. I will never forgive myself.” He paused. “I heard that he had a dog and that you have it now and it might be something of a burden to you. I’d like to have the dog. I’d like to buy it.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Louise said simply.

“I insist on paying you something.”

“No, it’s impossible. I won’t give the dog up,” Louise said. He could be a vivisector for all she knew.

“It would mean a great deal to me,” he said, his mouth trembling. “My brother’s dog.”

Louise shook her head.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“Believe what?” Louise said, looking at Elliot’s brother, if that’s who he was, although there was no reason to doubt him, not really.

He spoke again, patiently, as if she had utterly misunderstood his situation and the seriousness of his request. His guilt was almost holy, he was on a holy quest. He had determined that this was what must be done, the only thing that remained possible now to do.

“We were so close,” he said. “He was my little brother. I taught him how to ski, how to drive. We went to the same college. I’d always protected him, he looked up to me, then there was this stupid, senseless quarrel. Now he’s gone forever and I’m all ruined inside, it’s destroyed me.” He rubbed his chest as if something within him really was harrowed. “If I could care now for something he had cared for, then I would have something of my brother, of my brother’s love.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” Louise said, “but we’ve all been dealing with this for some time now and you suddenly appear, having been ill and out of the country both at the same time. Both at the same time,” she repeated. “It’s just so unnecessary now, your appearance. It’s possible to come around too late.”

“That’s not true,” he said. He was sallow beneath his tan. “Your friends, Elliot’s friends, said they were sure you’d appreciate the opportunity, that they were sure you wouldn’t mind, that in fact you’d be relieved and delighted.”

“That just shows how little we comprehend one another,” Louise said. “Even when we try,” she added. “Have you ever had a dog before?” Louise was just curious. She didn’t mean to lead him on, but as soon as she said this, she feared she’d given him hope.

“Oh yes,” he said eagerly. “As boys we always had dogs.”

“They’d die and you’d get another?”

“That’s a queer way of putting it.”

“Look,” Louise said, “your brother had this dog for about three minutes.” She felt she was exonerating Elliot.

“Three minutes,” he said, bewildered.

“I said about three minutes. You should get a dog and pretend it was your brother’s and care for it tenderly and that will be that.” Louise was not going to get up and go inside the house and lock the door against him. She would wait him out. “There’s nothing more to discuss,” she said.

He turned from her sadly. There were several youths peering into his van. “Get away from there!” he cried, and hurried toward them.

It was Walter’s turn to give a party. He had a fire in the fireplace although it wasn’t at all cold. Still, it was very pleasant, everyone said so.

“I ordered half a cord of wood but it wasn’t split, it was just logs,” Walter said, “and one of the logs had a chain partly embedded in it, like a dog chain. The tree had started to grow right over the chain.”

“Wow,” Daisy said. “I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes,” Wilbur said, “certain concepts, it’s better not to air them.”

The twins held each other’s hands and looked into the fire.

“Who would have thought that Elliot would have such a dreary brother,” Angus said. “I wouldn’t have given him the dog either.”

“Still, I’m amazed you didn’t, Louise,” Jack said.

“I guess he got all the things we actually remembered Elliot having,” Andrew said. “I remember a rather nice ship’s clock, for instance. That wristwatch I was given, who’d ever seen that before?”

“Elliot wasn’t in his right mind,” Betsy said. “We keep forgetting that. He wasn’t thinking clearly. If you’re thinking clearly, you don’t take your own life.”

Again, Louise marveled at her friend’s way of phrasing things. To take your own life was to take control of it, to take possession of it, to give it a shape by occupying it. But Elliot’s life still had no shape, even though it had been completed.