Northern Lights (6 page)

Wolff nodded fiercely. “He looks terrific. You look absolutely terrific, Harv. By God, I’d say you look like a million bucks.”

Addie was still dancing, a slow number. Her new partner had red hair. Her face was in his red hair.

“Crummy war,” Bishop was saying, “but you did yourself proud, Harvey. I mean it. A goddamn war hero! I remember …” and he talked about Harvey’s football days. Bishop was a classmate of Perry’s. Now he sold life insurance and real estate and sat on the Chamber of Commerce and the draft board and chaired the Kiwanis Club. He loved to talk.

Perry went outside for air. When he returned, Bishop Markham and Wolff and the others were playing the pinball game. Harvey was with the young waitress. The place was frantic and loud. Addie was still with her crowd, they were all dancing. He stood alone until the music ended and Addie came up.

“Hey,” she said. Her face was brown and wet. “Not awfully fond of dancing, are you?”

“No. Where did you get all those jolly young friends?”

“Oh, them. They’re all right. The whole lot is from Silver Bay and they love to dance. Franz is going to play his accordion and we’re all going to dance polkas.”

“Wonderful.”

“Sure.”

“I saw you at the lake,” he said.

“Ah,” she smiled. “Yes. I waved. Did you see my wave?”

“I saw.”

“You were playing a peeping tom, weren’t you? You were out there spying.”

“I happened along.”

Addie took his arm.

“How’s the dancing?”

“It’s okay. You haven’t been in the library. You’re going to go illiterate. I’ve been saving all these books for you.”

“I haven’t felt much like reading. I don’t know.”

She leaned against him. “I’ve been drinking, Paul. I have to go to my friends. I’ll make an excuse and come to your table.” She turned, jerked a thumb towards Harvey. “Is that your brother the war hero? He looks like some fine war hero.”

“That’s him.”

“He must be a pirate. He looks like a pirate.”

“I guess he does.”

“All right,” she said. “You hang tight. I’ll make my excuses and come to your table. But you can’t feel my legs and you have to promise to dance the polkas. You promise?” She released his arm and it felt red where she’d been holding it. The tavern was thumping. “And you must stop spying,” she said.

“Oh, it’s not …”

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll hurry over.”

Harvey was wooing his young waitress. He was getting drunk and the girl watched him carefully.

“Hey, Paul! You met my classy friend, Linda?”

“Lorna.”

“Lorna, Linda, no matter. Have I told anyone how classy you are? Imagine finding a classy person such as yourself in such an unclassy part of the world. Imagine that. I’m boggled by it. Paul, aren’t you boggled by all the classy people you meet in unclassy places?”

“Always.” Addie was still talking with her young friends. She had her hands on her hips, palms in. It was her odd way of standing, her pelvis forward and her eyes black and bright. Sometimes her eyes looked Indian, sometimes Asian, and she wore a white scarf on her hair. She wore sandals and white shorts.

“This is Linda,” Harvey said. “Linda’s going to get us more beer.”

“Lorna,” she whined. Her brown hair was strung in a great nest towards the rafters.

“Linda, Lorna. Something like that. Am I close?”

“Lorna.”

“Yes, that’s it. And this is my brother. Together we’re a classy group, don’t you think? My brother is my assistant, you know. He thinks I don’t behave sometimes. He keeps me reined in, so to speak. Isn’t that right, brother? I’m a quite famous and reputable dentist.”

“I hate dentists,” the girl said.

Her mouth snapped shut. She snuffed out a cigarette.

Harvey kept after her. “Don’t take it wrong now. You’re classy. It’s just the teeth. Here, open up.” He touched her lips with a finger. “Come on, honey, open up. That’s it.”

Tentatively, the girl’s mouth opened. Harvey touched her front teeth. Her eyes rolled down. She held an unlit cigarette in one hand.

“Not so classy in here,” said Harvey. “We’ll need some time. Atta girl, hold still now. See here, Paul? Cap this baby. Build a bridge here.”

“Stop it,” Lorna grunted. She spoke between her teeth, holding them bared, but Harvey had her by the neck, craning over and pivoting.

“Easy does it,” Harvey purred. “Ack! These things. Have to yank ’em, no question. Then drill a nice hole right … here … and do a canal job on the nerve, no problem. Open up now. What do you think, doctor?”

Harvey kept after the girl. She had a great red mouth.

“Infected,” Harvey said solemnly. “Right here. Does this hurt?” The girl squealed and her cigarette rolled to the floor. “Ha! Infected, all right. No doubt about it. A very infectious young lady. Hoof and mouth, I suspect.”

“Take it easy,” Perry said.

“And these molars, my Lord! Look at ’em. All rotten and infected. Open up now.”

“That’s enough,” Perry said.

“Ha.” Harvey held her mouth open. “I must have a beer. Will you get me a beer, young lady?”

The girl fiercely nodded.

“All right then. And will you stop by on Tuesday? Make an appointment with my assistant here?”

The girl nodded.

“Very well then. Very well. Just bring me my beer.” He released her and the girl went for the bar.

“She loves me,” Harvey grinned.

“You were a little rough.”

“She loves me. You see?” He waved and the girl waved back. “You see?”

“All right.”

“You see?”

Someone unplugged the juke box.

“Franzie!” Harvey got up and clapped. “Nothing ever changes.”

“Getting older.”

Everyone started clapping. Franz came out in knickers and a hiking cap. A monstrous accordion was strapped around his neck. “What you wanna hear?” he called and everybody kept clapping, so he smiled and played a song and everybody got up to dance polkas. The crowd whooped and Perry leaned back, feeling swallowed in all the fun. Addie was there in the center of the crowd, dancing with one of the Silver Bay boys, and the wood floor and walls bounced and the crowd whooped and stomped and the room was brightly lighted. The young waitress took Harvey to the dance floor. Everyone cheered him and Harvey did a deep bow.

Perry stepped outside.

He stood very still. Music strained like lost Old World through the walls and rose to the forest and floated away in a single resonant chord that slowly swallowed itself. He could not get into it. He lit a cigarette. Old Addie, he thought. Addie could get into it.

He stood quietly. In the grass there were crickets and the air was warm and soggy. Down the road, out of sight, the lights of the town were eaten by fog. Old Addie. He smelled methane and ammonia. Mosquitoes, june bugs. He urinated against the foundation of the old tavern and Bishop Markham came out and peed beside him. “That Harvey is some rascal,” Bishop said.

“That he is.”

“He’s having a helluva time. No bitterness there. Wolff was worried he’d be bitter.”

“Not Harv.”

“A hard charger.”

“That he is.”

Markham went inside and Perry smoked another cigarette, listened to the music. He flipped his butt into the gravel parking lot and went through the doors.

Addie waved. A Silver Bay buck had her tight, they were reeling, half polka and half two-step,
Du, Du, liebst mir im Herzen, Du, Du, liebst mir im Sinn, Du, Du
 … the Black Forest, the Magic Forest, back and forth, the great campfire, tribal rhythms. Perry watched them all dance. Addie was hot and wet and brown. There were red callouses on her heels where the sandal straps rubbed.

“Come on,” she called, “dance, dance.”

He grinned, shook his head. He was a little drunk.

“Dance!” Harvey called.

Bishop Markham hollered something and waved. Herb Wolff, holding a big woman, also waved. Franz beamed and played the accordion.

When the song ended, everyone clapped and Addie’s friends thumped the accordion player and bought him a beer.

Harvey sat down. It was too noisy to talk and they drank their beers and watched people.

In a while, Addie joined them. She could be very gay.

“You should dance more,” she said, sitting down, “It makes everyone happy when they dance. Is this your hero brother?”

“This is the monster.”

“You look something like a pirate. Do you know what the reason is?”

“Everyone says that.”

“This is Addie.”

“She looks like a bloody Indian.”

“Everyone says that, too. Actually I’m from New Guinea.”

“Really? No shit? I plan to go there someday.”

“Look up my relatives,” she said.

Perry found himself grinning. “Addie works in the library. She’s a kind of assistant librarian or something. She saves all the good books for me.” He wrapped his hands around the bottle and squeezed. It was a great blur.

“You look just like an Indian,” Harvey said. “Sure you’re not Indian? You could make a very classy Indian.”

“Sure,” she said.

“She is part Indian, Harv.”

Addie was very gay. She talked about dancing and swimming and people. Harvey became quiet. Franz came out again with his accordion and Harvey asked her to dance and Perry sat alone and watched them, and when they came back he felt tired.

“You
must
learn to dance,” she said. “A great picker-upper. All my friends have to dance.” Addie moved beside him. “Here, I’ll show you how. You can’t be watching all the time, come on. I’ll show you a tricky polka.”

He put his glasses on the table. It was a long, exhausting dance. He was out of shape. Over her shoulder, he saw Harvey watching.

Afterwards he went outside to pee. It was a ritual that the men peed outside and the women peed in the women’s room. He breathed some fresh air.

Inside again, Harvey and Addie were dancing. The Hamms beer sign was revolving. She was bright and fun and she danced on her heels. He got a beer and watched Harvey and Addie and Bishop Markham and the others.

Jud Harmor came in, took a stool at the end of the bar, refused a beer, and pulled his straw hat down. People gave him lots of room.

Harvey held Addie, whooping on the dance floor, and the old timbers were rocking.

When the dance ended, the young waitress took Harvey back to the floor.

Addie was wet and smiling.

“He’s a real pirate,” she said. “He can dance.”

“I was watching.”

She touched his arm. “Peeping Paul.”

“Yeah. Ol’ peeping Paul peeped a peck of pickled trouble.”

“So clever.”

“Would you like a beer?”

“Here, let’s us sit down,” she said.

They took a corner booth. Addie watched Harvey and the beehived waitress dance. “He
is
a fine dancer,” she said.

“Sure.”

“Tell me about your brother the pirate.”

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s a nice guy. Everybody says that. He’s a rascal and a scamp.”

“A pirate!”

“I guess so.”

Addie was barefoot. She put her sandals on the table.

“There’s nothing like a pirate to brighten things up. Why isn’t Grace here? You should have brought Grace. Then we would have been a group, and groups are always more fun. What happened to his eye?”

“He was wounded.”

“Well, I know that. How did it happen?”

Perry shrugged. He had a tight fever. “The telegrams just said he’d been wounded, I don’t know. He’s all right now. He hasn’t said anything about it.”

“That’s silly. I’ll drag it out of him then. I’m good at that. I’ll drag out the whole gruèesome story and make him feel all better about it.”

“You’re the one to do it, Addie.”

“Want to dance with me?”

“Not that. Not now, I’m pretty tipsy.”

“Such a pirate.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s dance. That’ll make it better.” She got up and held his arm.

“Don’t be so happy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Everything gets better, you know.”

“Let’s dance then.”

“I’ll dance barefoot.”

“Spectacular, Addie.”

“Hmmm.” She removed his glasses. “There, how’s that?” Very slowly, she pulled him up. “Very tribal, don’t you think? Firewater and campfires and wild rhubarb, all erotic.”

“Stop that.”

“Don’t be silly. You should be barefoot, too.”

She was lean and athletic.

“Isn’t this a nice song? Very erotic, isn’t it? Don’t step on my bare feet.”

“Jesus.”

“Isn’t this better now?”

“It’s fine. I’m pretty hot.”

“Dance closer. You don’t have to be so stiff. That’s better. See how? One, two, three. One, two, three. Isn’t it nice? Think of campfires and firewater.”

The accordion music was slow and swaying, deep forest. People were singing.

“Don’t you like me?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And isn’t it nice to dance a little?”

He saw Jud Harmor watching. Jud smirked, raised his hat.

It was a long slow dance.

“We should all go for a swim. Is that your brother’s girlfriend?”

“Are you looking at them? I thought you were dreaming with your eyes closed.”

She laughed. “I was dreaming. Is that his girl friend?”

“Her name is Linda or Lorna or something. She’s a patient of his.”

“We should all go swimming.”

She was light and the skin was tight across her shoulders.

“We really should go for a swim now,” Addie said. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“I have to go home.”

“Yes,” she said. “There’s always that, isn’t there?”

In town, the dry spell was all they talked about. The air was crisp and inchworms were eating up the forest. At night, trying to sleep, Perry heard them munching with the sound of rainfall. But it did not rain. The days were hot and dry, and it did not rain.

It kept him busy. Meager to begin with, the corn crops were baked away. One by one, the farmers slipped into the office, shamed, filled out their loss statements and applied for loans. On the highway into town, the hands of the fire danger clock pointed to high noon: Forest Service firefighters checked into the U-Rest Motel, arriving in green trucks and jeeps. The town turned out to watch them arrive. People were excited. In the drugstore, they swapped stories about earlier fires. It was suspenseful and important. Heat killed the mosquitoes. It killed the grass on Perry’s lawn. A dog dropped dead on the church steps. Everyone talked about it: the town was built of timber, white pine that had been cut and sawed and planed and notched and molded, hammered together and lifted up and painted bright. The paint was peeling. The forest crept up to the town and into the parks and on to the lawns and kept going, and if the forest burned, then the town burned, too. There was no distinguishing it.