so. It had been sent to an address of mine which I'd had for many years but not used in two or three. It didn't seem likely a message to that account could have any current bearing on my life.
I opened it. It said only this:
I need to talk to you.
No you don't , I thought. Goodbye .
I pulled the message towards the trash but something made me hesitate. Should I at least make a record of the sending address? Deletion is not the same as negation, as I had reason to know.
I heard a creaking sound from outside and turned to see Nina heading towards the door. She was wearing black jeans and a thick brown jacket I had bought her down in Yakima a couple of months before. She looked good, but grouchy.
I quickly shut the computer and went over to the kitchen.
'Ward, I done stared at that sunset as long as I'm able,' she said. 'Where the hell is the food?'
'Coming right up.' I took the beans out of the water, shook them a little, and spread them artfully on top of the other stuff in the bowl. Nina watched this in silence, staring at the result with what appeared to be genuine bafflement.
'Voilà,' I said. 'The salad to end all salads.'
'You're not kidding. How about a few pine cones on top? A pair of squirrels, in a tableau. I can fetch a couple if you want. Or, like, a whole tree or something. Say the word, maestro.'
'Stop, stop.' I held up my hands. 'Really, I don't do it for the thanks. Just the pleasure on your face is enough.'
She smiled, a little. 'You're an idiot.'
'Perhaps. But I'm your idiot. Come on, give it a try. Actually, you have to. There isn't anything else. I used it all up.'
She shook her head, then smiled more genuinely. Spooned some salad out onto a plate, and then added an extra scoopful, to show good intent. Pecked me on the cheek and carried her plate and the wine bottle back out onto the porch.
I followed. Talk minus a half-hour and counting, I reckoned.
===OO=OOO=OO===
We ate for a while.
The air was still soft, but had edges within it now, carried down off the higher reaches of the mountains. It wasn't a salad kind of evening. After about ten minutes Nina set her fork at a 'that's enough of that' angle. Her plate was still over half full.
'I'm sorry,' she said, when she saw me noticing. 'You've gone to a lot of trouble.'
'Way too much. It sucks. It's the Salad of Shame. I told you we should just have bought a big box of Izzy's fried chicken.'
'Maybe.'
'Definitely. You should trust me on these things. I have junk-food wisdom. It's a gift. On any given day I'll be able to predict the best type of junk food to have — not just for me, but for the tribe as a whole. In epochs gone by I would have been a snack shaman. I'd have consulted bones and read portents in the sky, and finally pronounced: "Lo, guys, you'll be in the mood for tacos later, so try to snag a mammoth when you're out." And I would have been right.'
Nina was looking at me. 'Are you still talking?'
'Not me. It must be the wind.'
The lake was assuming its twilight form, black and glasslike.
Nina stared out over it for a while, and finally she spoke. 'What are we going to do, Ward?'
There it was. I realized what I'd been trying to put off was not a conversation after all. It was just that. A question. The question.
I lit a cigarette. 'What do you want to do?'
'It's not like that and you know it. It's just… it can't last. This is no way to live.'
'No?'
'I don't mean it like that. You know. I mean these circumstances. I mean not having a choice.'
I took her hand. The summer had been good to us, despite everything. We had mainly stayed around Sheffer. Got to know some of the locals while keeping our heads firmly down. Got to know each other, too: when we'd accepted the use of Patrice's cabin we'd only been together a week, though our lives had been linked for six months before that. Since soon after my parents had died. Or been murdered, as it turned out. Nina knew most of what there was to know about my past. I knew
I opened it. It said only this:
I need to talk to you.
No you don't , I thought. Goodbye .
I pulled the message towards the trash but something made me hesitate. Should I at least make a record of the sending address? Deletion is not the same as negation, as I had reason to know.
I heard a creaking sound from outside and turned to see Nina heading towards the door. She was wearing black jeans and a thick brown jacket I had bought her down in Yakima a couple of months before. She looked good, but grouchy.
I quickly shut the computer and went over to the kitchen.
'Ward, I done stared at that sunset as long as I'm able,' she said. 'Where the hell is the food?'
'Coming right up.' I took the beans out of the water, shook them a little, and spread them artfully on top of the other stuff in the bowl. Nina watched this in silence, staring at the result with what appeared to be genuine bafflement.
'Voilà,' I said. 'The salad to end all salads.'
'You're not kidding. How about a few pine cones on top? A pair of squirrels, in a tableau. I can fetch a couple if you want. Or, like, a whole tree or something. Say the word, maestro.'
'Stop, stop.' I held up my hands. 'Really, I don't do it for the thanks. Just the pleasure on your face is enough.'
She smiled, a little. 'You're an idiot.'
'Perhaps. But I'm your idiot. Come on, give it a try. Actually, you have to. There isn't anything else. I used it all up.'
She shook her head, then smiled more genuinely. Spooned some salad out onto a plate, and then added an extra scoopful, to show good intent. Pecked me on the cheek and carried her plate and the wine bottle back out onto the porch.
I followed. Talk minus a half-hour and counting, I reckoned.
===OO=OOO=OO===
We ate for a while.
The air was still soft, but had edges within it now, carried down off the higher reaches of the mountains. It wasn't a salad kind of evening. After about ten minutes Nina set her fork at a 'that's enough of that' angle. Her plate was still over half full.
'I'm sorry,' she said, when she saw me noticing. 'You've gone to a lot of trouble.'
'Way too much. It sucks. It's the Salad of Shame. I told you we should just have bought a big box of Izzy's fried chicken.'
'Maybe.'
'Definitely. You should trust me on these things. I have junk-food wisdom. It's a gift. On any given day I'll be able to predict the best type of junk food to have — not just for me, but for the tribe as a whole. In epochs gone by I would have been a snack shaman. I'd have consulted bones and read portents in the sky, and finally pronounced: "Lo, guys, you'll be in the mood for tacos later, so try to snag a mammoth when you're out." And I would have been right.'
Nina was looking at me. 'Are you still talking?'
'Not me. It must be the wind.'
The lake was assuming its twilight form, black and glasslike.
Nina stared out over it for a while, and finally she spoke. 'What are we going to do, Ward?'
There it was. I realized what I'd been trying to put off was not a conversation after all. It was just that. A question. The question.
I lit a cigarette. 'What do you want to do?'
'It's not like that and you know it. It's just… it can't last. This is no way to live.'
'No?'
'I don't mean it like that. You know. I mean these circumstances. I mean not having a choice.'
I took her hand. The summer had been good to us, despite everything. We had mainly stayed around Sheffer. Got to know some of the locals while keeping our heads firmly down. Got to know each other, too: when we'd accepted the use of Patrice's cabin we'd only been together a week, though our lives had been linked for six months before that. Since soon after my parents had died. Or been murdered, as it turned out. Nina knew most of what there was to know about my past. I knew
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