Полина Саймонс – The Summer Garden (страница 8)
“Mama?”
Tatiana’s mouth opened in a tortured O. Alexander whispered
“Anthony,” said Alexander, his voice almost calm. “Can you give us a minute? Go outside. Mommy will be right there.”
“That man, Nick, is in his yard again. He wants a cigarette.”
“Mom will be right there, bud. Go outside.”
“Mama?”
But Tatiana could not turn around, could not speak.
“Go outside, Anthony!” said Alexander.
In the short term, Anthony left, Tatiana took a breath, Alexander took her to the bedroom, barricaded the door, and resolved them, but in the long term she didn’t know what to do.
One thing they
“Would you like some more bread, some more wine, Alexander?” she would ask with open hands.
“Yes, thank you, Tatiana,” he would reply with lowered head.
“Dad, can I come on the boat with you?” Anthony turned his face up to his father, sitting next to him at the breakfast table.
“No, bud. It’s dangerous on a lobster boat for a little boy.”
Tatiana studied them both, listening, absorbing.
“I’m not little. I’m big. And I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll help.”
“No, bud.”
Tatiana cleared her throat. “Alexander, if I come, um,
“Jimmy’s never had a woman on his boat before, Tania. He’ll have a heart attack.”
“No, you’re right, of course. Ant, you want some more oatmeal?”
Anthony’s head remained down as he ate his breakfast.
Sometimes the wind was good, and sometimes it wasn’t. Windward, leeward, when there was no wind, it was difficult to trawl, despite Jimmy’s valiant efforts to set the sail. With just the two of them on the boat, Alexander loosened the staysail and while the sloop floated in the Atlantic, they sat and had a smoke.
Jimmy said, “Good God, man, why do you always wear that shirt down to your wrists? You must be dying of heat. Roll it up. Take it off.”
And Alexander said, “Jimmy, man, forget about my shirt, why don’t you get yourself a new boat? You’d make a heap more money. I know this was your old man’s, but do yourself a favor, invest in a fucking boat.”
“I got no money for a new boat.”
“Borrow it from a bank. They’re bending over backwards to help men get on their feet after the war. Get a fifteen-year boat mortgage. With the money you’ll make, you’ll pay it back in two years.”
Jimmy got excited. Suddenly he said, “Go halves with me.”
“What?”
“It’ll be
“Jimmy, I—”
Jimmy jumped up, spilling his beer. “We’ll get another deckhand, another 12-trap trawl; we’ll get a 1300-gallon live tank. You’re right, we’ll make a heap.”
“Jimmy, wait—you have the wrong idea. We’re not staying here.” Alexander sat with the cigarette dangling from his fingers.
Jimmy became visibly upset. “Why would you be leaving? She likes it here, you keep saying so. You’re working, the boy’s doing all right. Why would you go?”
Alexander put the cigarette back in his mouth.
“You’ll have the winters off to do what you want.”
Alexander shook his head.
Jimmy raised his voice. “So why’d you get a job if you were just going to raise anchor in a month?”
“I got a job because I need work. What are we going to live on,
“I haven’t worked full time like this since before the war.” Jimmy spat. “What am I going to do after you leave?”
“Plenty of men are coming back now,” Alexander said. “You’ll get someone else. I’m sorry, Jim.”
Jimmy turned away and started untying the rope from the staysail. “Just great.” He didn’t look at Alexander. “But tell me, who else is going to work like you?”
That evening, as Alexander was sitting in his chair, showing Anthony how to tie a hitch knot through the marlinspike in his hands while they were waiting for Tatiana to go for their evening walk, there was shouting, and what was unusual this time was that a male voice was participating.
Tatiana came out.
“Mama, do you hear? He’s fighting back!”
“I hear, son.” She exchanged a glance with Alexander. “You two ready?”
They walked out the gate and started slowly down the road—all of them trying to hear the words instead of just the raised voices.
“Odd, no?” Alexander said. “The colonel arguing.”
“Yes,” Tatiana said in the tone of someone who was saying,
He glanced puzzled at her.
They strained to listen. A minute later, the mother came barreling out of the backyard, pushing the wheelchair with Nick in it through the tall grass. She nearly knocked herself and her husband over.
Thrusting the chair into the front yard, she said, “Here, sit! Happy now? You want to sit here all by yourself in the front so that passersby can gawk at you like you’re an animal in a zoo, go ahead. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about anything.”
“That much is obvious!” the colonel yelled as she stormed away. He was panting.
Tatiana and Alexander lowered their heads. Anthony said, “Hi, Nick.”
“Anthony! Shh.”
Anthony opened the gate and went in. “Want a cigarette? Mama, come here.”
She looked at Alexander. “Can I have a cigarette for him?” she whispered.
But it was Alexander who went to the colonel—his body and face slightly twisted—took out a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and held it to the colonel’s mouth.
The man inhaled, exhaled, but without his previous fervor with Tatiana. He didn’t speak.
Tatiana put her hand on Nick’s shoulder. Anthony brought him a stag beetle, a dead wasp, a raw old potato. “Look,” he said, “look at the wasp.”
Nick looked, but said nothing. The cigarette calmed him down. He had another one.
“Want a drink, Colonel?” Alexander asked suddenly. “There is a bar down on Main Street.”
Nick nodded in the direction of the house. “They won’t let me go.”
“We won’t ask them,” Alexander said. “Imagine their surprise when they come out and find you gone. They’ll think you wheeled yourself down the hill.”
This made Colonel Nicholas Moore smile. “The image of that is worth all the screeching later. OK, let’s go.”