Caribou Island

24

Sunday, and Rhoda and Jim both had the day off, so they slept late, had sex, napped again, then just lay there. Jim with his eyes closed, Rhoda with her head propped on his chest, looking at the view. Slow rollers coming up the inlet, a clear and sunny day. Slim black spruce in the flats before the beach, standing individually. They’d always seemed like people to Rhoda, vagabonds heading toward the sea, each walking alone. She could imagine a lower branch as a hand, holding a small suitcase.

The trees look like people, Rhoda said.

What? Jim asked.

The spruce out there, like people, a little bit shaggy, like the Whos of Whoville.

Huh, he said.

You’re not looking.

Okay, he said, and propped his head with a pillow. Rhoda readjusted lower on his chest. The trees out there? he asked.

Yeah.

I guess I can see that. Small ones for the kids, bigger ones for the adults. They’re about the right height.

And where are they going? she asked.

Sounds like a loaded question.

Hm, Rhoda said. It wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking of that.

Sorry, he said.

My parents are so weird. Promise me we’ll never be like them.

That’s easy.

Rhoda laughed. They are freaks.

You’re the one who said it.

When do I meet your parents?

I don’t know, Jim said. They moved to Arizona.

That’s all you ever say about them.

Well I don’t go down there, and they don’t come up here.

That’s sad.

No it’s not. It’s an accidental relationship, unchosen. I never would have chosen them as friends. I don’t even like them.

That’s really sad.

Not for me. I don’t care at all.

Hm, Rhoda said. She didn’t like this side of Jim, cold and unconnected to anyone. It didn’t sound true, and it certainly didn’t fit her vision of having kids and cozy family scenes. Accidental and unchosen.

Am I accidental and unchosen? she finally asked.

Rhoda, he said.

Really. Is it just because I’m here, and available?

No. I love you. You know that.

Rhoda propped up and looked into his eyes. Really? she asked. Can you promise me that?

Absolutely, he said, and pulled her close for a kiss.

Okay, she said, and settled back against his chest. Some of his chest hair was turning gray. A change just in the last year since they’d been living together. And his stomach going soft, a little mound. A thickening at his sides. Eleven years older than her.

I’m worried about my mom, she said.

Yeah. I thought Romano would find something.

I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I don’t know how to help her.

Hm.

Rhoda could tell Jim wasn’t really interested in this subject. Too messy and complicated. You don’t want to talk about this.

I’m fine, Jim said. Really.

I try to understand her, and I just can’t. Maybe it’s retirement. I know she misses her work and feels pointless now. And they don’t have as much money as they wanted for retirement, so she probably worries about that. But there’s something else, too, something more important going on. It’s like she’s making her own secret deals with the gods.

Whoa, Jim said. That sounds a little grand.

I’m serious, though. She’s decided the world is against her, and it’s like she’s getting ready for battle. She’s all paranoid. And then I try to say something, and she knows I’m not in there with the gods. I don’t get to decide anything. I only get to watch it all happen, so I don’t matter.

That’s not true. You matter to her.

I used to. But I don’t now. I think the pain in her head is from getting ready to go to war. And I know the war is with my dad, but I can’t figure out what it’s really about, because I’m not in it.

Rhoda, Jim said. I’m sorry, but I think you’re going off the deep end yourself. You’re making too much of this. She has some kind of pain, probably from being a stress case. Or she needs to get used to retirement, like you said. But that’s it. She’ll get over it.

I don’t think she will. And Rhoda realized this was true. She felt very sad suddenly. She didn’t believe her mother would recover from this. Because whatever was wrong was pulling in every part of her life. That was the key. It was reaching across time. I don’t think she’ll get better, she said to Jim. I really don’t.

Jim held her then, both arms wrapped around her, and she closed her eyes and wanted to find some way to stop everything, but it was all darkness, a void, nothing to grab onto. When are you going to marry me, Jim? she asked. I need something solid. She couldn’t believe she had just said that, said those words aloud. But she had.

There was a long and ugly pause, and she could feel his breath and heart quickening. I love you, Rhoda, he finally said.

Not enough. When are you going to marry me?