— I'll tell you why yes, because why people lie is, because when people stop lying you know they've stopped caring.
— Wait… but she'd made a sudden move for the door, pulled it open and was through it out to the terrace where, before he could follow, she'd come down sitting alone on the edge of an upturned chair and he stopped, looking out at her, at her hair smouldering red in the sun and the yellow green of something she was wearing, a sweater? he hadn't noticed, even the pale arch of her face protesting the drab of the leaves dead around her and he coughed again, cleared his throat as though about to speak, to arrest a shudder turning away to pace the kitchen floor looking out there each time he passed, finally reaching the phone, dialing it, speaking in blurred tones of — en désordre, la maison oui… demain? tôt le matin, oui? certainement… before hanging it up and stepping out to the sun's pale warmth.
She'd looked up, not at him but right past him at the house, at the roof peaked in this outward symmetry over twinned windows so close up there they must open from one room but in fact looked out from the near ends of two neither of them really furnished, an empty bookcase and sagging daybed in one and in the other a gutted chaise longue voluted in French pretension trailing gold velvet in the dust undisturbed on the floor since she'd stood there, maybe three or four times since she'd lived in the house, looking down on the greens of the lower lawn and the leaves before they'd cried out their colours, before they'd seized separate identities here in vermilion haste gone withering red as old sores, there bittersweet paling yellow toward stunted heights glowing orange in that last spectral rapture and to fall, reduced again to indistinction in this stained monotony of lifelessness at her feet where a dove carped among last testimonies blown down from somewhere out of reach, out of sight up the hill in its claim as a mountain, leaves of scarlet oak here and there in the blackened red of blood long clotted and dried. — Here… he'd come down to right an overturned chair, — sit here… brushing the leaves from it — I, I've thought about what you said and, I hope you don't think I…
She hadn't moved. — I've never really looked at it.
— At what… looking where she was looking.
— At the house. From outside I mean.
— Oh the house yes, the house. It was built that way yes, it was built to be seen from outside it was, that was the style, he came on, abruptly rescued from uncertainty, raised to the surface — yes, they had style books, these country architects and the carpenters it was all derivative wasn't it, those grand Victorian mansions with their rooms and rooms and towering heights and cupolas and the marvelous intricate ironwork. That whole inspiration of medieval Gothic but these poor fellows didn't have it, the stonework and the wrought iron. All they had were the simple dependable old materials, the wood and their hammers and saws and their own clumsy ingenuity bringing those grandiose visions the masters had left behind down to a human scale with their own little inventions, those vertical darts coming down from the eaves? and that row of bull's eyes underneath? He was up kicking leaves aside, gesturing, both arms raised embracing — a patchwork of conceits, borrowings, deceptions, the inside's a hodgepodge of good intentions like one last ridiculous effort at something worth doing even on this small a scale, because it's stood here, hasn't it, foolish inventions and all it's stood here for ninety years… breaking off, staring up where her gaze had fled back with those towering heights and cupolas, as though for some echo: It's like the inside of your head McCandless, if that was what brought him to add — why when somebody breaks in, it's like being assaulted, it's the…
— Listen! The phone had rung inside and she started up at the second ring, sank back with the third. — All I meant was, it's a hard house to hide in… Raising her eyes up to the twinned windows again, — seeing it from outside, looking up there and seeing myself looking out when everything was green, it all looked so much bigger. Like Bedford. The last time my mother came out to Bedford she just sat in the car with the chauffeur. She sat there for two hours and when we left, all she said was I never realized there were so many shades of green.
— What was Bedford.
— A big country house we had. It burned.
— When you were a child? was that…
— Last week… She thrust a foot into the leaves bringing the dove nearest up in a flutter, and down again, bleating. — That was the last thing she said that made any sense… looking down off the terrace — and now it's, look at it, it's just a horrid little back yard.
— Well it's, yes of course that's what happens isn't it, he said as though again called on to explain, pursuing it as he had the house itself, welcoming facts proof against fine phrases that didn't mean anything with — all those glorious colours the leaves turn when the chlorophyll breaks down in the fall, when the proteins that are tied to the chlorophyll molecules break down into their amino acids that go down into the stems and the roots. That may be what happens to people when they get old too, these proteins breaking down faster than they can be replaced and then, yes well and then of course, since proteins are the essential elements in all living cells the whole system begins to disinteg…
— Why did you ask me that.
— Did I, about what I don't…
— About my father.
— I don't know, I… He'd settled on the bare rungs of the chair, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand as though to rub away the spots there, — I don't know.
— Then why did you. Because you knew the whole thing anyway, you knew what really happened Billy'd already told you every…
— Can't you, please. Just listen to me please. I didn't need to hear it from him. I didn't have to read it in the damned papers I was out there when it happened, good God. You know the name Vorakers out there like you know the name De Beers, you know Vorakers Consolidated Reserve like the name of a country and it's bigger than most of them, buy and sell half of them out of its back pocket and that's all he was doing, that's what your father was doing it wasn't a secret, it wasn't even a scandal till these big bribe cases like Lockheed came up and the politicians and papers over here turned it into one and what happened then, I didn't need Billy to tell me what happened then did I? Took him out drinking half the night no, no I told you he took me I hardly got a word in, you think you have to teach the young outrage? Not just Paul not just your father no, he was outraged at everything, everybody who came before him you think he left me out? that he had some kind of romantic picture like the, like you did? finding gold out there when I was his age do you know what he said? Just one more four fucking thousand foot hole in the ground they'll pack with black skins to dig it out for them oldest damned story there is, the new generation blames the old one for the mess it inherits and they lump us all together because all they see is what we've become, lying in wait for you out there one misstep and they pounce, grab one straw of expediency and they're on to you for betraying yourself, betraying them, selling out like the ones writing bad books and bad everything who are doing the best they can? when we thought we could count on civilization? Two hundred years building this great bastion of middle class values, fair play, pay your debts, fair pay for honest work, two hundred years that's about all it is, progress, improvement everywhere, what's worth doing is worth doing well and they find out that's the most dangerous thing of all, all our grand solutions turn into their nightmares. Nuclear energy to bring cheap power everywhere and all they hear is radiation threats and what in hell to do with the waste. Food for the millions and they're back eating organic sprouts and stone ground flour because everything else is poisonous additives, pesticides poisoning the earth, poisoning the rivers the oceans and the conquest of space turns into military satellites and high technology where the only metaphor we've given them is the neutron bomb and the only news is today's front page… He'd been up kicking paths through the leaves until one of them led him to the edge of the terrace where he stood looking down toward the river. — Have you ever seen the sunrise here? and as though she'd answered she h
adn't, as though she'd answered at all — especially in winter. You'll see it in winter, it's moved south where the river's its widest and it comes up so fast, it's as if it just wanted to prove the day, get it established so it can loiter through the rest of it, spend the first damned half of your life complicating things in that eagerness to take on everything and straighten all of it out and the second half cleaning up the mess you've made of the first, that's what they won't understand. Finally realize you can't leave things better than you found them the best you can do is try not to leave them any worse but they won't forgive you, get toward the end of the day like the sun going down in Key West if you've ever seen that? They're all down there for the sunset, watching it drop like a bucket of blood and clapping and cheering the instant it disappears, cheer you out the door and damned glad to see the last of you.
But the sun she looked up for was already gone, not a trace in the lustreless sky and the unfinished day gone with it, leaving only a chill that trembled the length of her. — He'd never have gone, she said. — All your talk trying to, whatever you were trying to do turn him into some kind of a, like a disciple somebody who'd be no, no he'd never have been on that plane.
— I don't, what do you mean. I didn't even know it, I didn't know that's what he…
— Listen! It rang again in there, and then she was up in the silence that followed and through the door, standing over it, waiting, a hand on it giving its new ring no more than a moment for — Paul yes, yes I'm so glad you… Yes what happened… leaning back against the table's edge looking out, looking at him out there kicking a path away from her. — who did! But he, how could he do that! They can't… but they wouldn't come here would they? to arrest you here? They can't… No but who would believe him, who will believe him Paul there's no way they could prove it now anyhow even if it, if it's only you and him now your word against his and who would… and he'd already denied it hadn't he? When that picture came out in the paper and he issued that vehement denial the day that he left? They can't… well he's dead isn't he! She was watching him out there hands come up behind him, one twisting in the other as though to break free — Paul it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter anymore any of it if we can just, if you can just get them all out of our lives this loathsome little Reverend Ude and Edie's father and all of them, you've done what he wanted haven't you? testified like he wanted you to and saved the whole… no well then I'll call Edie I'll call Edie, if only I could call Edie if I only knew where she was, she can tell him that she can… staring out there where that one hand broke free of the other only to seize it and renew the struggle — it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter Paul none of it matters anymore, the way you were before you left that night with, I, I can't no I can't ever see you that way again I can't, if we can just… And out there now both hands were suddenly gone from sight, brought round in front of him in what, from behind, was a clear demand for their cooperation, where he stood pissing off the corner of the terrace onto the sodden leaves below. — Paul? Paul please listen, I… no I went down there this morning I signed the deposition yes, that I've, that I haven't been able to fulfill my marital obligations the way they put it all in that legal language but, I mean I know I haven't done things very well all the things that I, the things you've tried to do and how hard you've worked for all these hopes that you've, that we've had and now, if we can get a fresh start Paul if we could go away, if… of what? Seven hun… no you didn't lose it no, don't you remember? just before you left you gave me seven hundred dollars for the rent? to pay the rent? And it's… yes I've paid it and… No, no I stopped answering like you told me there was only one it was… no it was, it was Chick it was, Chick it was only Chick he called last night and I, that's all he just, he just called Paul? When will you be here tomorrow? because none of it, if we could just go away? because none of it… no I will Paul, I will…
He'd come in behind her down at the table there, a napkin wad crushed in her hand over the dead phone and he brought up both of his to close firm on the crests of her shoulders, moving only so far that the tips of his thumbs met facient on the rise of her neck, and again — if we could just go away… the lengths of his fingers slipping over her collarbones, down coveting the warmth of her breasts.
— I've been thinking about it, he said.
— About what.
— Clean things up here and leave, pack a few clothes and we're gone. You won't need to take much.
— But I meant… her eyes fallen fixed on these hands harbouring her breasts as though to restrain their rise and fall dextrous and effortless as art in that deceit, vein and tendon standing out yellowed, rust spotted as she'd left them in her own cramped hand on the lined paper safe under blouses, scarves, her breasts rose on a deep breath — I don't…
— Light things, summer things, a sweater or two and a raincoat, you'd need that… his fingers preying closer as though to calm what they'd provoked there — those hot places, that's all you'd need.
— But we, for days even a week I…
— A week? his hands gone from stealth to possession, — what good's a week, no. For good.
— Gone, for good? She turned so sharp his hands lost custody. — There's no, no…
— Why not! He'd stepped back dispossessed, hands flung out in all their emptiness — the whole damned thing flying to pieces, madness coming one way and stupidity the other? to just sit here and be crushed between them? There's no…
— They're going to arrest him.
— Who, who's…
— Paul. That was Paul.
— He called? I thought you weren't answering the, what for, arrest him for what.
— For bribery.
— He's not surprised is he? Grimes finally threw him both ends of the rope?
— It's not Mister Grimes no, it's…
— Of course it's Grimes. What they had him down there testifying about today isn't it? that little piece in yesterday's paper hidden back in the business section? If he told them these bribes were common practice and the whole board knew about them this lawsuit would hit VCR right between the eyes and Grimes with it, triple damages and all, of course it was Grimes. I told you Billy took me out drinking I couldn't get a word in, that's what he talked about he couldn't stop talking about it, that Grimes and Teakell had Paul by the short hair and he'd get up there and testify it was all your father, that your father arranged those bribes and was the only one who knew about them and that's why he shot himself when it all came out, the stockholders would turn right around and wipe out his estate and Paul would walk away clean because Teakell was going to lead him through his testimony and get him a dismissal. With Teakell out of the picture Grimes throws him both ends of the rope and he's up for bribery.
— But that's not what the…
— Why isn't it, he's up to his neck in this mess in Africa isn't he? with all of them down there right now howling for war? this mission tract where they're drawing the line against the evil empire, he set this idiot Ude up for them in the first place didn't he? had that whole tract staked out so Ude's mission could file a mining claim on it and name him secret nominee to hand it over to the highest bidder for the money to pour into his damned crusade? And who's the highest bidder. VCR running shafts right up to the edge of the mission's land when Grimes took things over and tied in with this Belgian consortium, a promoter showed up with word of a big ore find on the mission tract, they bring in Cruik-shank with his scenario and the Rift turns into an inferno from one end to the other. Does Paul know him? Cruik-shank?
— I don't know who Paul knows! And I mean that's not what it's about anyhow, if you think Paul wants to have a war whoever made up these stories you don't even…
— You remember Lester? came up here once looking foi me and you wouldn't let him in the door?
— I mean that's what I mean, the kind of friends you have if you'd trust him, if you'd trust anything he…
— I told you they weren't all friends didn't I? I've never trusted Lester a d
amned inch, black suit black tie and the black Bible he showed up over there paying his own way, they don't send them out like the Catholics do, one look at him and the locals took him for some kind of intelligence so did the Baganda, out there trying to sell them on the Second Coming next thing there he is in the New Stanley bar drinking orange juice and no Bible in sight. They'd recruited him. Cruikshank spotted the cold blooded fervour in those hard little eyes, he was Chief of Station, set up a Somali they had ten years on for stealing some truck tires and when Lester woke up he knew he was finished, homosexuality's the bottom of the pit out there, everybody taking him for an agent he might as well be one. All the discipline, obedience all the missionary zeal put a gun or a Bible in hands like that and they're just as deadly. They brought him in working on a contingency plan, they do them all the time just to generate paper work, cable traffic, show Langley they're on the job writing these little scenarios, setting up these confrontations till somebody draws the line. It was all routine but finally Cruikshank was so damned well known, he ran a cover as a dealer in local artifacts but you'd see him sitting alone at the end of the bar nobody would talk to him, they shipped him to Angola and when the mess they made of things up there was over they brought him home and gave him a medal he can never wear anyplace. One of those childish secret rituals they hold down there at Langley, put him out to pasture and he set himself up as a consultant like all these dreary faceless sons of bitches the one thing they know is how to survive. Hundred thousand dollar retainer the one thing they've learned is where the money moves and who's got it and the one thing they've cornered is how to get in on it, call themselves risk analysts and the bigger the mess they've left behind them the higher the fee. Iran, Chile, the Phoenix program, Angola, Cambodia, one monstrous miscalculation a few thousand body counts later and they're right there holding their heads up in Le Cirque and Acapulco, obsequious interviews in the Times and discreet dinner parties comparing their little black books with the other black tie refuse, even an expresident or two or their dazed widows, a few decorators, haute couture, any transient damned joke on reality while he's peddling the thing itself on the side in a poisonous little package like Lester. All that disenchanted missionary fervour would never lie steal or kill except in the name of a higher cause, doesn't smoke or drink or chase women all the damned fruits of youth gone bitter like the, like what falls from that old wild cherry down here at the foot of the lawn. Like the Zen master pointing to the forest and asking the acolyte what he sees. Woodcutters. And what else. All the straight tall young trees are being cut down. And what else. Well nothing but, no there's one twisted, rotting, bent old tree they're leaving alone and that's Cruik-shank, that's the successful survivor. Grimes brings him in as consultant, he brings in Lester and Paul brings this idiot Ude blundering into history with his battalions of ignorance hell bent on confronting the powers of evil with the cross of Jes…