The Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac (43 page)

Eternal glory and all that,
he thought.

The three women seemed to read this in him, and they exchanged a knowing look.

“Well, we could arrange that for you, too, I guess,” Ape Mom said, but she sounded discouraging.

Chicken Legs said, “We could. Just choose
something
. The service is almost over. If you don't use it, you lose it.”

“Where do we go after this?” Eli asked.

“Everyone's going to the forest to scatter your ashes,” said Ape Mom.

“And we go with them?”

“We'll leave here when they do,” Ape Mom said, “but not for the forest.”

“Where, then?”

Ape Mom was silent. “We'll go wherever we want. When you're done with your haunting, or whatever you choose, you'll sit by the Gray Lake and experience pretty much nothing for all eternity. Unless they force you into the new labor pool. In which case—”

A man knocked his fork against a glass. Everyone turned toward it.
Oh, no,
Eli thought.
A toast. I specifically requested
no toasts.

Eugene Ferm cleared his throat.

“So it's been said,” the round, charming man began, “that our lovely hostess, Vanessa Roebuck, requested no toasts, but I find myself too moved not to speak.” He raised his glass to Vanessa. “My apologies, dear girl.”

“It was my husband's request. But, please, go ahead. It's too quiet in here. I'd appreciate some kind words.”

“Typical,” Gladys muttered to her companion. “Typical of her not to honor him, even now. I would have honored him.”

The nurse shushed her.

“We lost a fine man to a heart attack,” he said, “and although I didn't agree with all of his opinions, I don't believe a finer man walked the planet, and I know for a fact that no man influenced my career and my entire belief system to such a degree. I was starstruck when I finally met him, giddy as a schoolboy. I made a fool of myself, in fact, but he was gracious and kind, and I owe him a great deal. I hope to repay him one day, although I'm not sure how. Maybe that's what I'm trying to do now, with this awkward speech.” Everyone laughed kindly here, except for Eli, who was hanging on Ferm's every word. “It saddens me to think the day I met him was the day he died.” Mrs. Krantz put her face in her hands. Vanessa bit her lip. Ferm continued, “I just want to raise my glass to you, Dr. Roebuck, and to your beautiful family. I want to say thank you for allowing me to believe in magic.”

Everyone clinked glasses. Ferm drank deeply and then wiped at his eyes, and then he smiled and the speech was over.

Vanessa went up to Ferm and embraced him.

“Poet,” Gladys said. “Harlot. Throwing herself at him as we speak.”

Eli saw that Amelia stood with her mother now. She gave Gladys a strong hug.

“Mom,” Amelia said, keeping hold of Gladys's shoulders. “I know how hard this must be for you, and I'm sorry.”

Gladys said, shaking slightly, “Thank you, dear. I'll feel well in a moment. Thank you for taking the time, finally, to greet your lonely old mother. You don't visit me enough, Amelia. You don't care for me. No one cares for me.”

“Mom, I saw you just last week.”

“Only for a night! That blue-collar husband of yours keeps you from me. I know how it is. You won't even let me see my own grandchildren.”

“You told Jonathan he was fat. You told Mary Ellen she had no courage. I don't want you speaking to them that way. I warned you—”

“Your father didn't love us, but here we are, all the same, honoring him. Do you remember how he never fought for you? How you would miss your scheduled weekends with him and he never noticed? It's just pathetic. You and I have no self-respect, Amelia. I feel very sorry for us.”

Amelia had fallen silent. Eli could hear the thoughts lifting from her then, a vapor that seemed to rise from her shoulders like a poisoned cloud, all of it directed at him.
You cheated on her and she was unwell. You left her and you left me. You left me alone with her. You left me all alone. I was a child, a little girl. You left me and I had no one. You were never there to begin with, Eli, and then you left me.
She turned to a darker place, far away from him, where even his ghost self could not intrude. Eli watched the darkness shift and expand in her. He felt deeply afraid of it.

After a moment, Eli leaned over to Chicken Legs and whispered in her ear.

Chicken Legs, simpering, turned to Gramma and whispered Eli's request to her. Gramma chortled in response.

“What?” Ape Mom demanded. “What'd he say? What'd he choose?”

Chicken Legs said, “You'll never guess. He chose Amelia. He's going to tell her he loves her. Or he's going to try, anyway.”

Eli set his jaw. Even now he was uncertain of his decision, and the monster's mocking tone worried him.

But, he thought, how difficult could it be to communicate his love to his daughter? It wouldn't take long. He would do it and then she would benefit and he would continue on with his afterlife, whatever that was.

Ape Mom was silent for a moment. Then, somberly, she said, “I was scared there for a moment. I thought you'd choose Mr. Krantz. I thought you'd want us to kill him. I don't say this usually, but I'm proud of you, Dr. Rootbutt.”

“Roebuck,” Eli said.

“Right. Roebuck. Anyway, it's refreshing when someone makes the right choice for a change.”

Eli didn't respond at first. He had made his choice. He was stuck with it now. But he watched Mr. Krantz longingly as Ape Mom spoke. The great man was by far the most awkward person in the room, tall and jagged and silent as a large stone.

“If you willingly save a man's life,” Eli said, more to himself than to anyone else, “or try to, anyway, does that automatically make you human?”

Ape Mom shrugged. “What do you think?”

Eli saw it not as a fact or a fiction now but as a choice. “I suppose,” he said. He considered Mr. Krantz's baby, growing in the tummy of the new wife. “Mr. Krantz is a man.”

“Can we stay for the rest of the party?” Chicken Legs asked her mother. “They're serving beers.”

Ape Mom sighed, throwing up her hairy hands. “We'll stay for one beer. Just one, Gramma. Don't go ten-fisting again. Last hurrah, ladies.”

Eli floated over to Vanessa's side, as close as his fetters would allow, wanting to be near her for just a little longer. She was speaking quietly with Eugene Ferm.

“I hope you don't mind what I said,” Ferm was telling her apologetically.

“No, it was wonderful, thank you. I'm glad someone spoke. He was a wonderful man. We were all lucky to know him.”

“I feel the same,” Ferm said.

Mr. Krantz lumbered by with his perky wife, and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. Ferm followed her gaze.

“Who's that fellow?” Ferm asked her.

“Mr. Krantz,” she said. “No first name, as far as I know.”

Ferm's bushy eyebrows shot up. “Huge man,” he said. “Bigger than I am.”

“By a long shot.” Vanessa waited for a moment, considering, and then confided, “You know, I feel I can tell you this, Eugene, because of your background. My husband … he thought Mr. Krantz was, well…”

She couldn't quite say it, but she'd said enough, and Ferm's eyes snapped onto Mr. Krantz's long figure as though magnetized. “You don't say,” he said.

“That's why Eli went there,” she said, “to Mr. Krantz's apartment. I think he meant to…”

Eugene Ferm's expression shifted. “Your husband,” he said, “was always ahead of his time with his theories.”

“I don't know, Eugene,” Vanessa hurried to say. “Maybe I'm a fool for mentioning it. Monster or not, maybe he should be left alone. He tried to save Eli. He really did.” She wrung her hands. “Wow, I feel pretty guilty. I don't think I should—”

“Nonsense, my dear; feel nothing of the sort. You were merely conveying your husband's astute observations, no more.” Ferm's tone was hurried, dismissive. “My dear, thank you for this wonderful celebration of your husband's life.” He took up her hand and kissed it, lingering for a moment. “If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Roebuck. I have a desire to introduce myself to this
Mr. Krantz
.”

And he took his leave, with Vanessa standing back on her heels to allow him room. She looked very worried.

“Oh, Eli,” she said to herself. “I hope I did the right thing here.”

Eli shook his head. It was too late, however, for Eli to fix that mess. He had already committed to Amelia. Mr. Krantz would have to fend for himself. And if anyone was capable of fending for himself, Eli thought, it was Mr. Krantz. He turned his attention elsewhere.

Across the room, Amelia's conversation with her mother continued, unimpeded.

“Here you are,” Gladys said, “with that
blue-collar
husband of yours, giving your halfhearted respects, and we don't even
belong
here. He didn't love us. He didn't love me and he didn't love you, dear. He ruined us.”

“That's a touch dramatic, Gladys,” Amelia said. “You're wearing Chanel, and that
blue-collar
husband of mine is a fantastic dad and is mind-blowing in bed. So don't worry too much about our ruination. Could be worse.”

But Eli, groping around in his daughter's thoughts, could see how much Gladys's comments had unnerved Amelia. The darkness in Amelia hardened and cooled. Eli could see how it walled her off from everyone—from Jim, from her own children, even from herself.

“Please,” he said to Ape Mom. “When do I begin?”

Ape Mom presented him with a bright silver key. As he fitted the key into the lock around his ankles, she warned him, “Now, don't go expecting immediate results. These things take time. A day, a decade, a lifetime. Time is strange in the afterlife. Before you know it, you'll be beside the Gray Lake again, watching your toenails fall off.”

“I won't miss the Gray Lake,” Chicken Legs said.

Gramma gurgled in her throat, agreeing.

“So we're done here,” Ape Mom said when Eli's shackles fell free. “None of this is our problem anymore.”

“So long, underworld,” Chicken Legs said.

“It's nice to end on a good note,” Ape Mom said, and she gave Eli an affectionate look. “Take good care of Amelia, now.”

“So long, you dumb mortals,” shouted Chicken Legs.

Gramma threw her tentacles around at everyone in the grange, as though flipping them all off.

“Let's go, girls,” Ape Mom said, and turned for the door.

Eli followed them out of the grange and watched as they began to walk through the thin snow, toward the south. A gray trail opened up before them and they followed it, moving forward swiftly, shuffling and sprinting both.

“Goodbye, now,” Eli called after them.

They were gone.

He returned to his eldest daughter and stood at her side. He could not, in fact, move away from her. The shackles had returned. They now attached him to Amelia, threading their clean metal rings from his rib cage into her chest.

Amelia glanced at him, looked away, glanced back. She drew in a long, slow breath.

“Hiya, Eli,” she said, more annoyed than surprised.

“Hello, Amelia,” he replied.

She furrowed her brow, leaned in.

“Hello,” he said again. “I'm here to tell you I love you. I love you so very much.”

She shook her head, pointed to her ears. She couldn't hear him.

It dawned on him that he was mute. Amelia could not hear him, could only see him mouthing things at her, gesturing at her.

Oh, goddamn it,
Eli thought. The Fates! Why did they have to make everything so difficult?

Amelia watched him impatiently, waiting for him to speak.

Bracing himself for the long haul, Eli began to wave.

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Various articles about Grover Krantz—an anthropologist at Washington State University and an enthusiastic Sasquatch apologist—inspired a few of the (very fictitious) details in this manuscript, as well as the name of one of its characters. I also reference Spokane and Colville tribal beliefs concerning “the Tall Man of Burnt Hair,” who was called S'cwene'y'ti (pronounced
Chwah-knee-tee
). Without a timely reading of Sherman Alexie's “The Sasquatch Poems,” found during a random Internet search, I might never have committed to a second draft of the book. I am grateful for these inspirations and to the lives and memories of those involved in their journey.

I researched and read articles at the Spokane County Library District's Moran Prairie Library, usually on their ProQuest database. I wrote much of this novel at either that branch or at the South Hill Library of the SPL (Spokane Public Libraries). Thank you to these beautiful spaces and to public libraries everywhere for all that you do for our communities.

I had the best editorial team on my side during the
Almanac
's evolution. Thank you to Nat Sobel, who contacted me after reading one of my short stories in
Fugue,
and who gave invaluable input throughout the editing and submitting process. My agent at Sobel Weber, Julie Stevenson, worked with me to reshape two full drafts of the book, and my editor at Henry Holt, Caroline Zancan, guided me through several more. Both women are brilliant and funny and flipping generous as hell. I'm so lucky they understood the vision of the book and advocated for it so passionately. Thank you, Julie and Caroline!

Other readers improved on the book, too: J. Robert Lennon, my good buddy; John Paul Shields, my brother; and Sam Mills, my husband. I could not ask for a better group of creative geniuses to hone my work. You dudes rock: Thank you for reading earlier, deeply flawed drafts of
Almanac
. I also want to thank Kathy Lord for her detailed copyedit, and Will Staehle for the beautiful jacket design.