Middle Age Read Free

on The Albatross the impression, as they would afterward recount, of being a capable, calm sailor. He’d told them he lived on the river, at Salthill. He was a thick-bodied muscular man, very self-possessed, with powerful shoulders, arms, legs; of only moderate height, but he’d seemed taller. He wore a white visored cap, a navy-blue pullover sport shirt that fitted him tightly at the midriff, rumpled khaki shorts, and rubber-soled canvas shoes. These shoes, and the bulky shorts, would immediately become water-soaked when he dived into the river, the weight pulling him down. Pulling at his heart.
    The medical examiner at Jones Point Medical Center would confirm that Adam Berendt had no alcohol or drugs in his blood at the time of his death.
    After a delay, the four men set sail at about five-thirty. The sun still high in the sky. Just enough wind, edged with a taste of something cool.
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    J C O
    Of course, a sailboat on the Hudson River, there’s always some measure of danger. What pleasure would there be in sailing, otherwise?
    What pleasure in life, otherwise?
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    T     at the home of L—, a lawyer attached to the New York branch of the American Civil Liberties Union. L— was also a successful litigator in private practice. Adam Berendt had met L—
    once or twice previously, the men had shaken hands but no more, they’d scarcely spoken before that day.
    S—, another ACLU lawyer, a woman in her mid-forties who wore, that day, a youthful red halter-top sundress, told of how she’d been talking with Adam Berendt, whom she’d only just met, and he drew her aside and
    “on the spot” made out two checks for the cause, each for $,. One to the ACLU, and the other to the National Project to Free the Innocent.
    S— stared at the man in startled gratitude, and impulsively hugged him, kissed his coarse-skinned cheek; felt a sharp frisson of sexual attraction between them; and drew back blushing fiercely. “Adam, thank you! This is much appreciated.”
    S— determined she would be seeing Adam Berendt again, soon.
    S— determined she would be seeing a good deal of Adam Berendt, and intimately, soon. Or so she hoped.
    The checks to be cashed on the day of Adam Berendt’s cremation.
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    I  Adam distrusts lawyers, why’s he with lawyers?
    Speedboats rushing noisily past. Treacherous as giant wasps.
    Rap music from a passing yacht. Dazzling white like The Albatross .
    Adam has strapped on a life jacket like the other men. His left eye is leaking tears from the wind.
    On the river, seen from a distance, boats appear graceful and swift as paper cutouts in the wind; but when you’re in one of the boats, on the water, there is little grace involved, there are clumsy maneuvers, shouted commands, trying to get along amicably with bossy strangers. The river, beautiful at a distance, is without color; composed of ropy strands of water; frothy, smelly. A mild taste of panic, imagining the underwater world.
    Middle Age: A Romance
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    What it is, beneath the surface, in that dense, dark place. What it is to drown.
    Not now. Not today. Don’t think of it .
    He isn’t thinking of it. Nor does he allow himself to think as The Albatross lurches north along the river amid a discordant flotilla of other craft.
    Why the hell am I here, why am I doing this?
    Hoping he won’t throw out his back.
    He’d been such a tough kid. A young man in his twenties, built like a steer. Now he’s grown a gut, he’s short of breath. Worried about his back.
    God damn: a man should have more dignity, ideals. Helping his host good-naturedly with the sails. And damned heavy sails they are.
    “Some life, eh?” one of Adam’s cheery new friends shouts at him, except Adam hears, “Some strife, eh?”
    Thinking of Marina. Suddenly, guiltily. He should have called her that morning. She’s been waiting to hear from