She tried not to think about Marlene being pregnant.
Thinking about it left her feeling utterly demoralized.
Now and then she cast sidelong glances at her sister, and it was so strange for her to be there, so improbable after all those years of separation and all those memories floating to the surface, everything she thought she’d forgotten, that she remained speechless, in a state of disbelief. As if she didn’t have her own problems to contend with.
In the evening, when she went to bed, she sat upright for a moment, chin resting on her knees, and stared at the empty shape next to her, Richard’s spot, and after that she had trouble sleeping despite her fatigue, and she felt that before long she wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of another dog. Or another soldier. Or a single member of her family. She had been telling herself this for years.
Since Mona was very small. Then came the moment when she took a sleeping pill, or even two, and fell asleep, often with fists clenched.
She had long ago realized that Richard was incorrigible, but also that he was the solid one—even if these days he seemed less reliable.
She decided not to get up late the next morning and grimaced when she saw the weather, gray sky, windy.
No doubt these were the last dark, chilly days before the arrival of spring. Richard wouldn’t be out for several hours, but that left little time to hope for the sky to clear, and she’d no doubt need an umbrella—praying that they’d be spared a hailstorm.
Marlene had decided to bake a pie but she started to whine because of the blisters on her hands. So much so that Dan finally turned from the window and asked half-heartedly if he could help.
In less than a second, she had tied an apron around his waist. His Special Forces reflexes were no longer what they had been. Mona and her mother glanced at each other in amazement.
The evening before, at the bowling alley, Marlene had again blacked out, and if Dan hadn’t been there to catch her she would have keeled over and collapsed to the floor like a limp rag. That’s the second time I’ve come to in your arms, she’d said with a laugh, ignoring Dan’s embarrassed look as he cast about for a corner to dump her in. He stretched her out on the first bench he saw, in a clatter of bowling pins.
Nath began to wonder, curious, concerned, whether her sister wasn’t trying to pick Dan up, whether such a thing was possible, whether she’d soon have to pinch herself.
She looked at Dan for a moment with his apron and his rolling pin. The sky was beginning to clear when she shoved in the baking dish of lasagna she had made, the wind was chasing away the clouds, the sun hadn’t yet pierced through but was getting close.
Setting foot outside, Richard squinted. Then he took out his sunglasses. Dan was waiting a bit farther on. They smiled, gave each other a high five, a brief hug, then Richard got into the passenger seat and they headed off. The women were waiting with a smile. Nath had invited a young couple to liven things up a bit, keep it from seeming too much like a family reunion and more like a Sunday meal among friends, and they had already had several glasses of punch by the time the couple showed up. Ralph got around in a wheelchair and Gisele was a nurse. She’d assisted with his double amputation and that’s when it had clicked between them, according to her.
Ralph turned toward Marlene and said it was a souvenir he’d brought back from the Middle East, of a fierce battle, door to door, house to house, and anyway he’d be dead if Richard and Dan hadn’t pulled him out of there, dragged him into a building riddled with bullet holes in the mind-blowing heat. Those two were really two of a kind, he added, nodding heavily. It’s thanks to them I’m here to tell you all this, Marlene. Fire on all sides. From everywhere. Enough to drive you insane.
She almost touched his hand but made do with a smile.
Remarkably, the sky was now empty of the slightest cloud—this was the kind of thing that told you Richard had a lucky star. A bright sun passed by in force, like a fanfare announcing his release from prison.
We’ve got time, he said.
Dan glanced at him to make sure he’d heard right, but Richard looked completely serious. They’re waiting for us, Dan pointed out.
No sweat. We won’t be long.
Dan gave a vague shrug and turned the car in a different direction. Arguing would have been pointless. And he didn’t have to choose sides. It was their issue, not his.
They took a detour. The owner of the Alfa was barely awake when they arrived. He hobbled down the stairs toward them in boxer shorts, with a forced smile. Hey, Richard, he exclaimed, looks like you’re back.
Richard signaled for him to open his garage.
They took their time. They examined the Alfa from every angle. Richard ran his fingers over the body without hiding his pleasure while the other hovered around him, the Alfa this, the Alfa that, but Richard wasn’t listening. He just exchanged a few misty-eyed glances with Dan and continued his inspection.
Meanwhile, the others had ended up sitting down to dinner and drinking more wine, telling each other about themselves and dragging things out. The lasagna got cold on the table. Nath’s features had darkened.
They were now an hour late and not answering their phones. She felt her blood beginning to boil. Richard’s homecoming was not getting off to an auspicious start.
Ralph squeezed her shoulder. They’ll be here, he said. I wouldn’t get worked up about it.
She nodded. She said that everyone should serve themselves. Ralph pushed back in his wheelchair to grab some beers from the fridge and Gisele lit a cigarette.
Despite everything, the sun was shining outside, the trees budding.
Dan kept to the sidelines while Richard and Alfa Man haggled over the price. The sky was now a bright blue. We’re gonna have our heads handed to us, Richard admitted once they were on their way.
Dan nodded. She’s going to be livid, he said, eyes fixed on the road.
BEESWAX
During the three months he’d spent in prison, Richard had acquired the bad habit of getting up early, at the crack of dawn. No comparison with Dan, of course, who was up at four in the morning and started his exercise routine well before daybreak, in the chill of pitch-black night, summer and winter—but if that was the only way he could avoid going crazy, it was his business.
Richard loathed discipline. Especially when it involved an alarm clock. He even hated the colors of daybreak, its insipid hues, its second-rate silence, and all the sorry poetizing it inspired; while dusk, the reddish glow of sunset, the day’s surrender, had a whole other aspect.
Slipping into the night while your brain emptied itself with no intention of reviving, that took guts, he mused while drinking his coffee. The house was quiet, the women asleep. Especially Nath, who had given her all until two in the morning, with the devil’s own desire, a resolution that surprised him, that had taken him back years, to when their bouts were truly epic. She had rolled onto her side with a groan, saying she was dead in a barely audible voice.