FINGER
Richard unloaded the full story on Dan a few days later. About the delivery he’d have to make, the small advance he’d received, the Alfa, etc.
Dan was sitting in the grass, drying in the sun, blinking, arms hugging his bent knees. He shook his head.
He’d been calmly watching the three women below diving off a boulder, and Richard had just yanked him back to reality, on the dark side.
Count me out, he finally blurted.
I can drive a car without you, Richard huffed. I’ll be fine.
Dan bit into an apple. We always took the time to think it through, he said without looking at Richard. We weighed the risks before taking the plunge. We didn’t go in with just anybody, we weren’t that stupid.
We stayed alive, that’s what we gained. We didn’t gain anything else. We came home naked and empty-handed, and that’s it. I’d rather have a dangerous life than a shitty one, I’ll say it once and for all.
Sparrows were fighting over crumbs from their picnic. Dan looked over at the women coming out of the water. Anyway, there’s something I have to talk to you about, Richard added as they came up. But no rush. Smile.
Dan didn’t really feel like smiling after what he’d just heard. You didn’t have to be psychic to guess that Richard had gotten mixed up in a sordid affair, nor omniscient to predict he’d do just as he pleased, that nothing could turn him away from the twisted path he’d decided to follow.
He lay back and closed his eyes. They couldn’t reform Richard. Those who had tried had come back with head hung low. Nath was the only one (and even then) who had some influence over him and managed to obtain a few paltry results—like getting him to chew with his mouth closed, trim his nails once in a while, not say fuck at the drop of a hat, change his underwear every day—after eighteen years of marriage.
The hardest thing was trying to protect people from themselves, from their ignorance and their folly. Most didn’t want to hear it. There came a moment when action was pointless, when feelings were pointless, and God knew that Richard was one of the rare individuals who really mattered to him.
Still, the sun felt good on his skin, a first real springtime sun that had inspired the girls to improvise this picnic on the edge of a hidden lake in the middle of the woods—at less than fifteen minutes’ drive, the five of them crammed into the Alfa, the three women screaming when Richard took a bend in the road at top speed, after which he turned around with a huge grin and asked how ya doing girls, with a special wink for Mona. The water was cold but it was the best water in the world, limpid, sparkling, and oh my friends, that staggering blue sky, the different shades of green in the jumble of trees, the birds soaring in flocks.
Dan opened his eyes when he heard Mona shriek. A wasp had stung her. The afternoon was dragging a bit. Richard was making phone calls off to one side. It was turning chilly. Marlene lit a cigarette and signaled for Mona to come closer. Nath was changing out of her bathing suit. Dan saw this kind of tableau, this biblical scene, in his dreams when they were on a mission, in the hellhole.
On the way back, they stopped for a drink. Marlene immediately started on the margaritas. Night was falling, the signs lit up, and there was traffic, entire families, guys in caps rolling in slo-mo, windows down, women’s tattooed arms draped over the car doors, children, dogs with tongues hanging out, pizza delivery boys, sandwich trucks. Dan kept an eye on the time.
Mona had wanted to join them for the film and he and Marlene had readily agreed, but now her foot was swollen like a pumpkin. The reasonable thing wasn’t the most fun, and Dan, to console her, said if it’s okay with your dad, I’ll take you one evening this week, doesn’t matter if I know it by heart.
Why did you say that, Richard said with a smile. Why did you say if it’s okay with your dad. What’s wrong with you. She spent an entire week sleeping at your place.
I know. But you weren’t here, and now you are, so I’m asking your permission. I don’t see what the problem is. If I were in your shoes, I’d rather the guy ask—for permission, that is.
What guy. The guy is you.
Mona fidgeted on her chair and told them to quit it.
Dan was about to see the film for the fourth time, but his pleasure was undiminished and he felt perfectly relaxed. Marlene’s presence at his side didn’t bother him, had stopped bothering him some time ago, for no other reason than he was starting to get used to her and didn’t find her as invasive, not to say as much of a pain in the ass, as he had at first.
No matter that she spilled half her beer on his knees and had trouble climbing over the seats to change in back and wrap herself in her beach towel. That was Marlene and you had to take her as she was. Nath had painted a portrait of her sister so disadvantageous that the most patient man in the world would have kept shy of her.
But she wasn’t as slow on the uptake as Nath made her sound. It was really overdone, he felt, really reductive.
While she climbed back into the front seat by the shortest and not least acrobatic path, he rolled down his window and ordered some more beers and two bags of popcorn from an old man who walked up and down the rows of cars pushing a refrigerator cart and wearing a little paper beanie from which a white lock of hair escaped onto his forehead, which he brushed aside with an absent hand while the other hand gave back change—a virtuoso performance.
His arms laden, Dan turned to Marlene and they looked at each other a moment, motionless, then he quickly started lining up his purchases on the shelf between them. It was now pitch black out, the film hadn’t started yet, but a short about the building of the Great Wall of China diffused a flickering, candle-like light in the passenger compartment.
Oh, you know, she said, I stopped eating popcorn a long time ago. I almost choked to death once.
I’m not surprised.
I know what you think of me. I don’t hold it against you.
I meant it’s easy to swallow one of those things the wrong way. Anyway, I don’t think anything bad about you.
That’s nice of you to say.
He shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth and looked away.
You’re so different, you and Richard.
He nodded. A couple was smooching in the next car.
Personally, she resumed, I don’t have any friends. I never have. I must not be right for anybody.
The film was about to begin, but he looked at her again.
I drive people away, she continued.
He remained silent, not knowing what to answer. She ended up reaching out an uncertain hand and brushing his cheek. He choked back his surprise, tried to pay attention to the screen while Bill Pullman dragged morosely on his cigarette and the speaker vibrated.
Are you here, Dan, are you here with me, she whispered.