Holy cow, Dan, that’s some nice work. How much would you take me for to do mine.
Nothing.
What do you mean, nothing.
I mean nothing, not a cent.
Great. In that case, I’ll trade you a cleaning.
He wife had come outside behind him, a slightly chalky blonde who seemed to be shivering internally and whose voice he’d never heard. She gave him an imperceptible nod, head lowered.
By now, day was waning. Dan gathered up the detritus and compacted it in bags, crimped shut the last one at dusk. He took a shower, then spent another good moment tidying up the bedroom, which he inspected with a final glance before going outside, glass in hand, pleased with his accomplishment. The moon had risen, the air was thick with the aroma of freshly cut grass, the hedge shone in ecstatic suffering, there reigned an absolute calm. He was about to light a cigarette when, distractedly surveying his immediate surroundings, his blood froze. He nearly choked when he discovered Nath’s car parked a bit farther up the street, lights off.
Marlene. Marlene, of course. But what could that woman have in her noggin, he wondered, approaching the target with the stealth of a Sioux, furtive and bent over despite the darkness.
Taken by surprise, she jumped when he slid in beside her.
What the hell are you doing here, he said, grabbing her arm. What is this, some kind of joke.
You scared me. You’re hurting me.
He let go, irritated, without taking his eyes off her. You can’t do this, you hear me. You can’t just show up like this, goddammit.
At those words, she turned into a rag doll and slumped over in her seat. Her head banged against the steering wheel.
When she came to a few minutes later, she was in his house, lying on the living room couch that was still in shadow. The drapes had been carefully drawn shut. She heard him moving utensils about. She put one foot on the ground and tried to stand, a bit unsteadily. For an instant, she saw a herd of zebras scampering away in a cloud of yellow sand like gold dust.
Feeling better, he asked in a neutral voice, framed in the lit rectangle of the kitchen doorway. Have to get used to your thing there. I’ve made coffee.
I’ll be going.
What difference will five more minutes make. Sit down.
You wouldn’t want the same thing to happen again.
Barely recovered, she hesitated, looked around her, then obeyed while he set the coffee on the low table and sat down next to her.
I’m so sorry.
You take sugar.
No, thank you.
The atmosphere wasn’t great, but the tension had dropped.
I’m really sorry. I feel so ridiculous.
You have to understand one thing, he said, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Excuse me, which way’s the bathroom.
He stood up and went to the window, waiting for her to return. With one finger, he pulled the curtains apart a couple of inches and cast an eye outside. All in all, he wasn’t too worried, it was highly unlikely anyone had seen them: she wasn’t very heavy, he had run hunched over, it had lasted barely ten seconds, a cloud had passed in front of the moon.
They took their seats. You have to understand one thing, he resumed.
Dan, please forgive me. I’m so sorry.
Drink it while it’s hot. Should I turn the heat up. You’re sure you’re okay.
Yes, it was the emotion.
Listen. It’s not you. It’s me.
No. It’s me. I know it. Everything I do is wrong. You see what I mean. You’re angry.
I’m not angry. I’m just not much fun, that’s all. I’ve set rules for myself. Drink your coffee.
She did so, watching him over the rim.
I respect that, she said. The need for self-preservation.
I’m so mad at myself for having imposed, if only you knew. I’ve ruined everything. Will it bother you if I smoke. I think I could use one. After that, I’ll go.
He nodded gently, but mostly for himself. The flame of the lighter illuminated the scene like a manger in a Flemish Renaissance painting. He didn’t know whether she’d done it on purpose, whether a terrible priestess didn’t inhabit the heart of most women.
Can I offer you something stronger, he asked.
She shot him her most disarming smile. Yes, Dan, she answered, but you know perfectly well how all this will end.
He stood up as if in a dream to go find some glasses. If he’d had the slightest idea how all this would end, there’s no doubt he would immediately have sat back down.
CLOWNS
A few days later, Richard unveiled the fabulous idea he had in mind. He’d worked it out down to the smallest details. He’d taken Dan for a drive and after exiting the highway parked the Alfa in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by undergrowth that was starting to green up again and spread all the way to the bare cliffs nearby. He was certain this would work. Try as Dan might to persuade him he was out of his mind, that it was nuts to take those guys for fools, he wouldn’t be swayed.
Exasperated, Dan got out of the car and stood a few yards away, his back turned, fists jammed in his pockets.
So what you’re saying is I can’t count on you, Richard flung at him, getting out in turn under the blue sky.
You can count on me to tell you what I think of it, that’s for sure.
That doesn’t answer my question.
Doesn’t it.
On the way back, Richard’s jaw remained set and he dropped Dan off in front of the bowling alley without so much as a glance.
It was early afternoon and Dan was due at work, but he needed to think, concentrate on what he meant to do about Richard’s fucking scheme, and so he went home instead and stayed shut inside until evening, mulling it over.
Ralph and Gisele lived in one of the small, white, indistinguishable prefab houses that had sprouted up like mushrooms in the late eighties, when the banks were loaning out cash hand over fist and screwing everyone.
Ralph’s was recognizable by the flag of a motorcycle club he used to belong to when he still had his legs; it floated above the entrance door as a reminder of better days.
I’ve known motherfuckers like that, Ralph said, scratching his cheek, while Gisele nodded. He’d better watch his step.
You gotta stop him doing it, she declared.
Ralph looked at her tenderly and held out his hand. Listen to what she’s saying, dude. Couldn’t have put it better myself. This woman is the voice of reason. Love you, Gisele. So when’s this bullshit supposed to go down. In three days.
Fine, that gives us time. ’Course, I’m not saying he’ll thank us for it. Can’t say the shithead’s getting any smarter with age. Hey, I heard you just now, you came over on a chopper.