Garden of Eden (20 page)

They
were in their room in bed and it was late. "She'll go away and you'll have
me shut up or put away, Catherine said. "No. That isn't true."
"But you suggested we go to Switzerland." "If you were worried
we could see a good doctor. The same way we'd go to the dentist."
"No. They'd shut me up. I know. Everything that's innocent to us is crazy
to them. I know about those places." "It's an easy drive and
beautiful. We'd go by Aix and St. Remy and up the Rhone from Lyon to Geneva.
We'd see him and get some good advice and make a fun trip out of it."
"I won't go." "A very good intelligent doctor that—"
"I won't go. Didn't you hear me? I won't go. I won't go. Do you want me to
scream?" "All right. Don't think about it now. Just try to
sleep." "If I don't have to go." "We don't have to."
"I'll sleep then. Are you going to work in the morning?" "Yes. I
might as well." "You'll work well," she said. "I know you
will. Good night David. You sleep well too."

He
did not sleep for a long time. When he did he had dreams of Africa. They were
good dreams until the one that woke him. He got up then and went direct from
that dream to work. He was well into the new story before the sun came up out
of the sea and he did not look up from where he was to see how red the sun was.
In the story he was waiting for the moon to rise and he felt his dog's hair
rise under his hand as he stroked him to be quiet and they both watched and
listened as the moon came up and gave them shadows. His arm was around the
dog's neck now and he could feel him shivering. All of the night sounds had
stopped. They did not hear the elephant and David did not see him until the dog
turned his head and seemed to settle into David. Then the elephant's shadow
covered them and he moved past making no noise at all and they smelled him in
the light wind that came down from the mountain. He smelled strong but old and
sour and when he was past David saw that the left tusk was so long it seemed to
reach the ground. They waited but no other elephants came by and then David and
the dog started off running in the moonlight. The dog kept close behind him and
when David stopped the dog pressed his muzzle into the back of his knee. David
had to see the bull again and they came up on him at the edge of the forest. He
was travelling toward the mountain and slowly now moving into the steady night
breeze. David came close enough to see him cut off the moon again and to smell
the sour oldness but he could not see the right tusk. He was afraid to work
closer with the dog and he took him back with the wind and pushed him down
against the base of a tree and tried to make him understand. He thought the dog
would stay and he did but when David moved up toward the bulk of the elephant
again he felt the wet muzzle against the hollow of his knee.

The
two of them followed the elephant until he came to an opening in the trees. He
stood there moving his huge ears. His bulk was in the shadow but the moon would
be on his head. David reached behind him and closed the dog's jaws gently with
his hand and then moved softly and unbreathing to his right along the edge of
the night breeze feeling it on his cheek, edging with it, never letting it get
between him and the bulk until he could see the elephant's head and the great
ears slowly moving. The right tusk was as thick as his own thigh and it curved
down almost to the ground.

He
and the dog moved back, the wind on his neck now, and they backtracked out of
the forest and into the open park country. The dog was ahead of him now and he
stopped where David had left the two hunting spears by the trail when they had
followed the elephant. He swung them over his shoulder in their thong and
leather cup harness and, with his best spear that he had kept with him all the
time in his hand, they started on the trail for the shamba. The moon was high
now and he wondered why there was no drumming from the shamba. Something was
strange if his father was there and there was no drumming.

THEY
WERE LYING on the firm sand of the smallest of the three coves, the one they
always went to when they were alone, and the girl said, "She won't go to
Switzerland."

"She
shouldn't go to Madrid either. Spain is a bad place to crack up."

"I
feel as though we'd been married all our lives and never had anything but
problems." She pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him.
"Do you want to swim now?"

"Yes.
Let's dive from the high rock. The really high one."

"You
do," she said. "I'll swim out and you dive over my head."

"All
right. But hold still when I dive."

"See
how close you can come.

Looking
up, she watched him poised on the high rock, arced brown against the blue sky.
Then he came toward her and the water rose in a spout from a hole in the water
behind her shoulder. He turned under water and came up in front of her and
shook his head. "I cut it too fine," he said.

They
swam out to the point and back and then wiped each other dry and dressed on the
beach.

"You
really liked me diving that close?" "I loved it." He kissed her
and she felt cool and fresh from the swimming and she still tasted of the sea.

Catherine
came in while they were still sitting at the bar. She was tired and quiet and
polite. At the table she said, "I went to Nice and then drove the little
Corniche and I stopped up above Villefranche and watched a battle cruiser come
in and then it was late." "You weren't very late," Marita said.
"But it was very strange," Catherine said. "All the colors were
too bright. Even the grays were bright. The olive trees were glittery."
"That's the noon light," David said. "No. I don't think
so," she said. "It wasn't very nice and it was lovely when I stopped
to watch the ship. She didn't look big to have such a big name."
"Please eat some of the steak," David said. "You've eaten hardly
anything." "I'm sorry," she said. "It's good. I like
tournedos." 'Would you like something instead of the meat?" "No.
I'll eat the salad. Do you think we could have a bottle of the
Perrier-Jouet?" "Of course." "It was always such a nice
wine," she said. "And we were always so happy with it."
Afterward in their room Catherine said, "Don't worry, David, please. It's
just speeded up so much lately." "How?" he asked. He was stroking
her forehead. "I don't know. All of a sudden I was old this morning and it
wasn't even the right time of year. Then the colors started to be false. I
worried and wanted to get you taken care of."

"You
take wonderful care of everybody."

"I'm
going to but I was so tired and there wasn't any time and I knew it would be so
humiliating if the money ran out and you had to borrow and I hadn't fixed up
anything nor signed anything and just been sloppy the way I've been. Then I
worried about your dog."

"My
dog?"

"Yes
your dog in Africa in the story. I went in the room to see if you needed
anything and I read the story. While you and Marita were talking in the other
room. I didn't listen. You left your keys in the shorts you changed from."

"It's
about half through," he told her.

"It's
wonderful," she said. "But it frightens me. The elephant was so
strange and your father too. I never liked him but I like the dog better than
anyone except you David, and I'm so worried about him."

"He
was a wonderful dog. You don't have to worry about him."

"Can
I read about what happened to him today in the story?"

"Sure,
if you want to. But he's at the shamba now and you don't need to worry about
him."

"If
he's all right I won't read it until you get back to him. Kibo. He had a lovely
name."

"It's
the name of a mountain. The other part is Mawenzi."

"You
and Kibo. I love you so much. You were so much alike."

"You're
feeling better, Devil."

"Probably,"
Catherine said. "I hope so. But it won't last. Driving this morning I was
so very happy and then suddenly I was old, so old I didn't care anymore.

"You're
not old."

"Yes
I am. I'm older than my mother's old clothes and I won't outlive your dog. Not
even in a story."

DAVID
HAD FINISHED writing and he was empty and hollow- feeling from having driven
himself long past the point where he should have stopped. He did not think it
mattered that day because it was the exhaustion part of the story and so he had
felt the tiredness as soon as they had picked up the trail again. For a long
time he had been fresher and in better shape than the two men and impatient
with their slow trailing and the regular halts his father made each hour on the
hour. He could have moved ahead much faster than Juma and his father but when
he started to tire they were the same as ever and at noon they took only the
usual five minute rest and he had seen that Juma was increasing the pace a
little. Perhaps he wasn't. Perhaps it had only seemed faster but the dung was
fresher now although it was not warm yet to the touch. Juma gave him the rifle
to carry after they came on the last pile of dung but after an hour he looked
at him and took it back. They had been climbing steadily across a slope of the
mountain but now the trail went down and from a gap in the forest he saw the
broken country ahead.

"Here's
where the tough part starts, Davey," his father said.

It
was then he knew that he should have been sent back to the shamba once he had
put them on the trail. Juma had known it for a long time. His father knew it
now and there was nothing to be done. It was another of his mistakes and there
was nothing to do now except gamble. David looked down at the big flattened
circle of the print of the elephant foot and saw where the bracken had been
pressed down and where a broken stem of a flowering weed was drying beyond the
break. Juma picked it up and looked at the sun. Juma handed the broken weed to
David's father and his father rolled it in his fingers. David noticed the white
flowers that were drooped and drying. But they still had not dried in the sun
nor shed their petals.

"It's
going to be a bitch," his father said. "Let's get going."

Late
in the afternoon they were still tracking through the broken country. He had
been sleepy now for a long time and as he watched the two men he knew that
sleepiness was his real enemy and he followed their pace and tried to move
through and out of the sleep that deadened him. The two men relieved each other
tracking on the hour and the one who was in second place looked back at him at
regular intervals to check if he was with them. When they made a dry camp at
dark in the forest again he went to sleep as soon as he sat down and woke with
Juma holding his moccasins and feeling his bare feet for blisters. His father
had spread his coat over him and was sitting by him with a piece of cold cooked
meat and two biscuits. He offered him a water bottle with cold tea.

"He'll
have to feed, Davey," his father said. "Your feet are in good shape.
They're as sound as Juma's. Eat this slowly and drink some tea and go to sleep
again. We haven't any problem."

"I'm
sorry I was so sleepy."

"You
and Kibo hunted and travelled all last night. Why shouldn't you be sleepy? You
can have a little more meat if you want it."

"I'm
not hungry."

"Good.
We're good for three days. We'll hit water again tomorrow. Plenty of creeks
come off the mountain."

"Where's
he going?"

"Juma
thinks he knows."

"Isn't
it bad?"

"Not
too bad, Davey."

"I'm
going back to sleep," David had said. "I don't need your coat."

"Juma
and I are all right," his father said. "I always sleep warm you
know."