Lara Vapnyar - The Scent of Pine

“Has it ever occurred to you that it could’ve been Inka?” Ben asked.

“What could’ve been Inka?”

“The one who made the soldiers disappear?”

“How? Why?”

“Suppose she was in love with you?”

“Inka? No!”

“No, no. Don’t dismiss my idea. Let’s go back to the beginning. She wanted that double date with you and the first guy, right?”

“Kostik.”

“And you couldn’t understand why, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“No, wait, listen. And she tried to ruin the date for you, right? She said that you looked like a squirrel or ate like a squirrel or something?”

Lena was surprised that he even remembered the squirrel.

“And she tried to drag you into the woods with her every chance she got.”

“We went with the kids!”

“And you were spending every free minute you got just lying around and reading dirty books.”

“Those books were classics!”

“And she tried to give you a hint about your secret admirer!”

The secret admirer? Could Inka possibly mean herself? No, that was ridiculous. Or was it? Anyway, Lena didn’t want to get into it with Ben. She needed some time to think this new angle over on her own.

“Come on, stop it,” she said to Ben. “What about you, by the way?”

“What?”

“Have you been with a man?”

“No. It just doesn’t interest me at all.”

“Not even when you were a boy?”

“No. Well, once, when I was thirteen. We spent a weekend with my parents’ friends down in Cape May. I had to share a room with their son—he was about my age. I don’t know how it happened. We were in his room. We started to fight—not for real—just, you know, pushing each other. And then our dicks were out—I honestly don’t remember who was the first to get his dick out. They were stiff like rolling sticks, and pointing straight up, and we kept touching each other and laughing like crazy. But that was it. We didn’t have sex.”

A rustle in the tree above them made Lena scream.

“What’s wrong?”

“There was a squirrel. I’m sorry! I’m terrified of squirrels. When I look at a squirrel, I always imagine that it will jump on me and start clawing at my face. It’s insane.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re perfectly sane, and your fear isn’t irrational at all.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Squirrels are vicious. Not many people know that, but they do attack humans. But only if you disturb them during mating.”

“Really?” She peered at the top of the tree and moved away from the trunk and closer to Ben.

“Yeah.”

“How do we know if they’re mating?”

“Oh, they make a very specific sound, it’s easy to hear. The male and the female climb to the top of two different trees and stare at each other, screeching and shaking like crazy. Imagine a clothes dryer gone wild. Then they leap toward each other and the male has to penetrate the female in midair. The whole act lasts less than a second.”

“In midair? But how—”

“Takes a lot of training. I heard that younger squirrels miss a lot.”

She stared at him. He looked completely serious except for those tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes. After a moment, she laughed. “I can’t believe I bought it!”

“You see,” he said, smiling and stroking her leg with a blade of grass. “I was a scrawny sickly teenager, not particularly good at sports, so I spent most of my childhood reading books about faraway countries and rare animals. I especially enjoyed them if there was a description of how animals fucked.”

“And if there wasn’t any description, you would make it up?”

“No, I just tried to guess how it was for them. I would imagine myself in their place and think what I would’ve done.”

“You would’ve leapt from the top of a tree?”

“Try me!”

“No!”

And the next second he was on top of her. Bearing down on her, squashing her, pressing into her stomach.

By the time a pickup pulled into the driveway, it had gotten chilly and dark. A short plump messy-haired woman wearing white sweatpants and a blue jean shirt got out of the car.

“Marty!” Ben said.

She looked at Ben, gasped, squeezed Ben in a bear hug, and started to squeal. “Ben, Ben, Ben, Benny, Ben!” Her face turned bright pink under the wisps of her gingery hair.

Ben smiled and said: “Marty, hey!” Then turned to Lena. “Lena—Marty. Marty—Lena. Marty’s Mike’s wife.” Marty shook Lena’s hand and whispered to Ben over her shoulder, “So, Benny, Leslie’s out?” He shook his head, and Marty shrugged. “I thought I’d ask.” She exuded warmth and the sweet smell of sweat, flowers, and cinnamon buns.

“Where’s Mike?” Ben asked as they followed Marty to the front door.

“He had to make a last-minute delivery. Not sure when he’ll be back.”

“You have a beautiful house,” Lena said.

“Well, yeah. I don’t really care. My husband takes care of it. Puts in flowers and stuff.”

“Marty, what’s with the trolls?” Ben asked.

Marty rolled her eyes. “That’s Mike, Ben. That’s his new business. He carves all these stupid figurines. Plywood moose, plywood bears, bunnies, loons—whatnot. And it sells! I don’t know what kind of idiot would want to buy a plywood moose when we have too many live ones around here, but apparently there are plenty of idiots. He even gets mail orders now.”

She led them into the kitchen, sat them at the large table by the wall, and said that she’d run upstairs to freshen up and then they’d have some coffee. But before she did that, she hugged Ben again. Lena thought that she caught some strange intimacy in their gestures.

“Did you sleep with her?” Lena asked after Marty had gone upstairs.

For a moment Ben looked surprised at Lena’s forthrightness, then nodded. “A couple of times. Years ago. Look, we’ve known each other for so long—it would’ve been wrong and almost impolite if I hadn’t.”

“I see.”

Three ideas crossed Lena’s mind, one after another, or perhaps all at the same time. That Marty liked to squeal in bed, that she liked to move around a lot, and that her favorite position was doggy-style. She felt an instant surge of jealousy.

“Does Mike know about you two?”

“No, of course not. He’s a great guy and they have a great marriage. Four kids. Four kids, can you believe that?”

Marty came down wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans. She had also put on some lip gloss and sprinkled herself with perfume—sharp and sour, not suiting her at all.

“Where are you from?” she asked Lena as the water in the coffeemaker started to gurgle.

“Originally from Russia, but I live in Boston now.”

“Russia! I was wild about Russia when I was in college. I went to college, you know. Down there in Portland. I had to drop out when I got pregnant, but still I went to college. My husband never did. But my kids are all going to college, mark my words.”

“How old are they?”

“Sixteen, fourteen, and the twins are eleven.”

Marty took a plate with leftover strawberry pie from the fridge and cut a slice for Lena. The crust was crumbly and hard, and the filling too sweet and gooey.

“Russia! Did you like it there? But of course you did, that’s your home! How I wanted to go there. To Moscow and St. Petersburg. Such a great crazy country. So what do you think about Putin?”

“Putin? I don’t really think about Putin.”

“He puts on airs, acts like he’s this tough guy, but he’s a sleazy little jerk, don’t you think?”

“Yes, kind of.”