2000 Deciduous Trees : Memories of a Zine (9781937316051) (13 page)

The words caught in her throat and tears
welled in her eyes, but she fought them off. She took off the
rings, as if she had done it a thousand times, and carefully
extracted the diamond from the lace. She laid the rings on the
counter by the telephone and continued to lay the table.

He saw her in these familiar, almost natural
movements, and watched her head turn back toward the rings sitting
there.

His eye caught hers for a second, and she
forced a smile. He looked away.

Kristin was more concerned with the contents
of the bag. "This tablecloth is lovely. Can I help you at all?"

"Well, child, it's not half as lovely as
you, I'm sure, but it is a beauty. It was his grandmother's, I
believe. She claims she made it. I have more to believe that she
fixed it once or twice when it got snagged by a diamond ring."
There were tears in her eyes.

Essentials. Only the essentials. Water.
Food. Survival. Love is not essential.

With a new charge of strength she went on.
"As for the bag. I brought Chinese. I hope you like Chinese food,
Kristin."

"Oh, I do."

"Well, good. There's plenty for two, anyway.
I thought I might stop by for a bit and keep the poor man company,
but as you are seeing to all of that, I'm sure he'll be fine."

Kristin was genuinely pleased with the
compliment. She grinned and turned to him for a kiss. He was gone.
The water was running in the bathroom. He was probably washing his
hands for dinner.

Kristin decided to play hostess in his
absence. "Where are you coming home from—I'm sorry. I didn't get
your name."

"Names are burdens, child, never mind the
name. I've been on a trip to see my sister. She just had a baby.
Beautiful baby girl, with sparkling eyes and tiny toes. A beautiful
baby girl."

"Do you have any children?" Kristin asked as
she set the table.

What a question. She shook her head slowly,
and carefully placed the plate on the old lace. Her fingers traced
the intricate pattern.

He had heard, and watched
her.
What a question
.

He was standing where they put the Christmas
tree, right in front of the window. There were probably needles in
the carpet still. Light from the sodium street lamp outside glowed
as it passed over his features. She knew that glow. Holding his
face. And touching him. She could not stop the tears this time.
Sparkling eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Kristin laughed and hugged her. "Why are you
apologizing? I'm the one who was rude. I never should have
asked."

Essentials. Give her the
essentials
. "Here. Come have a glass of
water."

Kristin moved effortlessly around the
kitchen. He remained by the window. Large chunks of snow were
beginning to fall in the night, and their shadows in the
streetlight dappled his face. He slid down onto the couch under
their dark weight. Kristin gave him a look of pity for the woman.
He pretended not to notice. Instead he picked up the remote control
and began fiddling with its buttons, something to concentrate
on.

"There now. How's that?"

"Thank you, Kristin." She
drank the water, and it replenished her. "Well, thank you again."
She stood up and smoothed her skirt. "There's plenty of goodies in
the bag to explore. And Kristin, I'm sure you know where the
napkins and forks and all are. I don't know if there are any
chopsticks left. But I suppose it's for the best. No sense flipping
duck sauce all over Grandma's lace." She laughed affectedly.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She picked up her purse and with resolution, "So. I'll be
off."

He rose quickly and banged his shins on the
coffee table. "Where will you go?"

She pushed the fuzzy hair
out of her face. He could feel that hair.
Sparkling eyes
. He wished he could
touch her hair. He probably never would. "Let me walk you
out."

"No. No. Don't be foolish. No ice on the
steps yet. I'll be fine."

"Where will you go?" He asked again.

Kristin put her hands on her hips. She had
found one of the aprons. It hung awkwardly on her skinny frame.
"Honey, can't you see she doesn't want to tell you that? Leave her
be."

The woman laughed and smiled at the girl.
The door closed quietly and he watched her hold the railing and
move slowly toward the car. There certainly was ice on the
steps.

Kristin cooed, "Come sit down, dear. Let's
see what we've got. I'm absolutely famished, and I'm sure you must
be starving."

The car backed out of the drive and headed
up the street toward her mother's, or church, or the ocean. He
didn't know where she was going.

"All right." He decided to play along. But
when he turned Kristin was trying on the rings. "What are you
doing?" The reply was thoughtful. "She seemed a lot bigger than me,
but she must have delicate hands because they just fit. See? Did
you see her hands? Or her feet? I'll bet she has little feet too. I
wish I had little feet. It's pretty though, isn't it?" She held the
hand with the rings out to him.

Her apron. Her
rings
. "Take those off." His voice was
gruff.

"Why do you care so much? She didn't forget
them on purpose. She just took them off because they were snagging
your beautiful tablecloth." She ran the lace through her fingers.
"I'll bet it's from Italy. Or maybe France."

"Just take them off." He
cleared his throat and continued with her game, lightheartedly.
"Don't you know it's bad luck to wear someone else's…" He did not
finish. He should have gone with her to her sister's.
A beautiful baby girl with sparkling eyes and
tiny toes.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, sweetie?"
The rings were forgotten on the counter. Thrown where grease spills
and detergent gets caught along the rim of the sink.

Looking at the bag, "What is there?" He sat
down at the dining table. It was as though they were having a tea
party, she playing dress-up, and he with legs too long.

The girl laughed an insipid and controlling
laugh. "How should I know? Do I look Chinese?"

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

They ate for a while without speaking.

"She looked so lonely." Kristin was
mending.

"Who?"

"The woman who brought us the food."

"Oh. I don't know about that." He was
aloof.

"But she's married." Kristin said,
indicating the rings again. "I don't understand it. I always
believed in happily ever after."

"It's harder than you think." She might have
gotten to the interstate by now. Would she go north or south?
South, to Tennessee. She loved the rocks and the greenery. No, she
was upset. She'd set her jaw and go north. Straight up into Canada.
He sighed. He really didn't know where she would go. It's harder
than you think.

"I suppose it is," Kristin said. "But still,
she looked so lonely. I've never seen a married person look that
lonely. She looked almost as lonely as you were before I met you.
Married people shouldn't be as lonely as that." She took a bite of
the meal. She chewed slowly and looked out the window.

Her features were so
slight.
Beautiful baby girl.

She looked back at him, eager with her
answer. "Someone needs to love her."

Yes. She would go north. She would go to
Minnesota. She said she loved the idea of Minnesota. What was it
now? Oh. She loved the idea of frozen smiles. She loved to think
about all those wrinkly pink cheeks frozen into smiles under a
blanket of snow. She would go to Minnesota in the snow.

Kristin’s voice was accusatory. "Did you
hear what I said? She needs someone to love her."

"I'm sure someone does, dear."

“
She’s married after all.
Someone must love her. He should tell her now.”

He thought:
She’s bound to find out. No. Let it be. Wait
until she gets to Minnesota.

But Kristin went on with her musings. “No
one loves that woman, even if she is married. I'll bet he's one of
those corporate guys who thinks money is the same as love. Probably
buys more ties for himself than earrings for her though." She put
her feet in his lap. With her head tilted just so, setting off her
flirtatious smile, "I'll bet she's never even had her feet rubbed
by a man."

But he knew how many
hundred times she had. He knew how her pantyhose felt in the palm
of his hand, dividing him from her graceful heel. He knew what
touch made her giggle and curl her toes. He knew the careful polish
on her nails. He knew her.
Sparkling eyes
and tiny toes.
What a question.

Kristin was so young. "Still. I think she
needs someone to love her. That's what she needs." There was a
matchmaking tone in her voice.

He did not look up. These feet were bare.
The heel was longer and the toes jutted out straight from the
skinny foot. The skin was supple, but the feet were bony. No
polish.

He looked into the girl's
open eyes.
I love bare
feet
. "I suppose she does." He pulled her
down onto the floor. She giggled and tossed her head. She whispered
in his ear, clinging around his neck. His skin was alive with her
touch and his heart filled with reasons to sweat.

The snow was coming down faster. The
streetlight was nearly drowned out by their falling rhythm. The
blue-gray shadows made a blanket for the skinny girl and her
lover.

She let his hands direct her. She let her
hair be his screen. She let him be forgiven. And she let him open
her eyes. But his were shut, and smiling, as he thought about his
beautiful girl, with sparkling eyes and tiny toes.

SUNDAY MORNING HANGOVER IN A SMOKE-DARKENED CORNER

He has to say something

"Nice day out," with my refill

and, "What are you doing inside?"

I'm not forced to look up.

But I do

and his smile is distant, hanging

onto the rail and bashfulness against

his leaning. I'm not forced

to respond; but I do.

"Just waiting, I guess."

My giggle is the kind of

necessary fakery we accept

as a girl's graciousness.

This stiff upper lip

Midwest 
née
East Coast smile

is a cover for none-of-your-business

and
Who cares anyway?

I look away. Toward the wall.

But thanks for the coffee

and for being here with your

inside perfect windows

setting off

the gorgeous day with their frames.

(I shouldn't have looked away.)

There must be a reason by the wall.

Yes. Here. I flick a sugar packet

to loosen the contents.

He waits and watches me tear into it

carefully, controlled

as expected. But I resent it

and also his suggestion.

Why must sunshine

be relished in the open?

I enjoy it more this way.

Why can't I be

here to enjoy this man

remembering what I ordered

and his smile with a dirty face

or something that maybe

should have gotten shaved

green eyes and skinny

with jeans skies—regular.

Not a coffee seller, but mine

this morning and I like him

better than the rest,

pouring more inside

with a pleasant intrusion

than with his easy work

he's not forced to do.

EIGHT WEEKS THEY TOLD ME TO CALL HELL

Three days before I left for basic training
I could only think of two things: the gas chamber and all those
immunization shots. When I expressed this anxiety to my sister she
said, "You dread those things now, but when the time comes they
won't be what affects you. You are ready for those because you can
comprehend them. It will be the things you don't know how to fear
that scare you the most."

"Well, say something, Private. Yes,
Sergeant. No, Sergeant. Screw you Sergeant." I was shocked. "Did
you look me in the eye, Jones? Did you?" Petrified. "PUSH." Thank
you: action, at least. If I look at the cement I don't have to look
at you. And then—right then—she was with me on the ground, hissing.
"Jones, you don't know me. You don't want to know me. You don't
even need anything like me in your life, and here I am. You better
push, Private. I'm gonna make you hate me so bad you won't know how
to scream. Pick your head up. If I ask you a question I expect an
answer. Is that understood? You better not look me in the eye,
Private. Well?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"You better speak up, Private."

"Yes, Sergeant."

"Don't you know I'm deaf, Private?”

"Yes, Sergeant."

"RECOVER."

I didn't know what to do.

“
God damn it, Jones, you
want to make this difficult? I said get up. Too slow. PUSH.
RECOVER. PUSH. RECOVER. Do you think you're funny, Private? You
better motivate yourself. I said PUSH. RETRIEVE YOUR COVER,
Private. Your hat. I said RETRIEVE YOUR COVER, you pathetic piece
of civilian trash."

"This is the last cycle were going to use
these masks. I know they aren't the greatest. But it's only three
minutes in your whole life. You've been in once. So what if your
mask doesn't seal? I can't help it. It's not so bad. Just get in
there and get through it. You can breathe that stuff for three
minutes, Jones. I've seen you. You're tough. It won't kill you.
It's only tear gas."

"Why are you so fat, Jones? You better run
in place every time you see me. I bet the rest of your mama's kids
just starved to death with you around, didn’t they? Didn't they,
Jones? Pick your feet up. And don't scuff my floor. I bet I know
why you're so fat. I bet your daddy used to bring you a cake home
every day, didn’t he? Are you tired, Private? Oh, well by all
means—PUSH. Or was it your boyfriend? Do you miss your boyfriend,
Jones? Oh, never mind. No one as fat as you could have a boyfriend.
Isn't that right, Jones? You better answer me, Private. Isn't that
right? You're too fat to have a man, RECOVER. You better stand at
parade rest when you're talking to an NCO. Dang, you are ugly. I
tell you what, Jones, I'll let you off easy. Wouldn’t you like to
be let off easy? Are you threatening me, Private? You better avert
your eyes. Don't no one of you privates look me in the eye. Is that
understood? Get outta here, Wide Load. That's me lettin' you off
easy, Jones. But you’re Wide Load from now on. And when you hear me
say Wide Load you better answer with, 'Yes, Sergeant, moving,
Sergeant." And you best hope you are running when I see you.