Beyond Deserving (20 page)

Geneva told them Gully had once fallen asleep on the couch with a cigarette, and had set the couch on fire. It had scared him enough to stop smoking, but not enough to stop drinking. Another time he burned down a shed because he couldn't get its door to hang right. She thought he remembered those things, at the fire. “He never said he was sorry, you know, either of those other times,” she said, “but he's sorry now.”

Gully came back skinny, his shoulders curved toward the center of his body. His wispy hair had grown long enough to pull into a ponytail like his sons wore, and it was all almost white. He had a hard time remembering things. He could remember anecdotes he liked to tell about his boyhood, or about his children, but he couldn't remember where he had set his coffee cup down two minutes ago. Names slipped away; he was embarrassed to see people he knew, and stopped going down to the cafe for coffee for a long time. He never went back to work. He drew disability, and then retirement. “Thank God I'm a union man,” he said. He had been building heavy equipment for road construction. He had once been very strong for his size. Now he said, “To think God had to do that to get my attention.” Ursula commented to Michael that the shock treatments had altered his personality, but Michael pooh-poohed that. Gully went to AA meetings nearly every night for months. Wednesday nights he went to River Cove Christian Fellowship prayer meetings with Geneva. The young people were vastly relieved that he didn't talk about it much. He didn't try to foist Jesus off on anybody.

His mind eventually cleared, and he spent his days poking and puttering, fishing and visiting with his cronies up and down the river. He slacked off on AA, going Tuesday nights at the Episcopal church hall. He became a mild man, with a streak of stubborn anger against people responsible for large events: the CIA, United Fruit, the Army Corps of Engineers, the Pentagon. He called Geneva his good wife. He said he didn't deserve half as much. But he and Geneva lived in separate zones of a small life and came together only for their old-couple rituals. Fish wouldn't go near them. Geneva's feet got bad. Gully developed angina. These matters gave them something to discuss over breakfast. Fish gave them something to worry about. Michael gave them a little comfort. Somehow, they went on.

27

Gully and Michael are standing near the road with their backs to the Grange Hall. Looking at them through the open doors, Ursula thinks how much alike they look in the slope of their shoulders and their wiriness. They even stand alike, with their hands in their pockets. They look like boys who might kick rocks all the way to the river.

“Fish stands exactly like that, with his pants hiked up by his fists in his pockets.” Katie has appeared beside Ursula. “He would hate to hear me say so. He doesn't want to be like Gully.”

“Too bad,” says Ursula, “because he is, in lots of ways.”

“He can't stand his father's weakness. His meekness.”

“Maybe he can't stand the thought of getting old.”

“He says he'll never get feeble like Gully. I don't think he plans to get old. Surely he can scrape up a catastrophe to wipe himself out before that.” Katie's voice is harsh.

Ursula takes a step away from Katie, toward the men. She says, “That gives him a good excuse for being crazy.” Crazy isn't the right word. Katie could probably come up with something more apt, but she goes away without commenting anymore. It is never okay for anyone to criticize Fish, except Katie. Well, she has had the most of him. She would know what kind of crazy he is.

Ursula calls her husband's name softly. He turns and gives her a quizzical look, as though he cannot fathom why she would come to him right then. Gully hasn't heard her. She hears him say, “Somebody must have got to him.” Ursula realizes he is talking about the podiatrist who disappeared. Some people suspected foul play, but could come up with no possible motive. The man's Jeep was found on a forest service road not far from River Cove, but there were no signs of him, though they searched when he disappeared in February, and again in March after the weather cleared. Gully seems to have known him. He refers to him as “Dr. Jim.”

“So many possibilities, Pop,” says Michael. Ursula would like to dare him to come up with one. Better, she would like for Michael to ask his father, What was Dr. Jim to you? Did something happen that you're afraid of too? Do you know something? She has heard Michael talk for hours with Fish or Gully about the world at large, especially if it has to do with hunting, fishing, or what they see as atrocities against the environment, but none of the three of them ever discuss anything personal.

“When should I bring out the cake?” Ursula asks. Her voice sounds strained to her. She is tired, and afraid guests will leave if she doesn't serve the cake soon, even though Ruby has not arrived. She isn't expecting Fish. Avoiding Katie is a convenient alibi. He hates sentimentality, crowds, or anything that places pressure on him to behave himself. It is such a hot day, he may have driven to the beach.

“Come on Pop,” Michael says gently, taking his father's elbow.

“Now what's that?” Gully asks in a shaky voice. He points down the road toward where he lives, a mile away. “See that smoke?”

“Probably somebody burning trash,” Michael says, but Gully won't budge. The smoke is only a wispy plume, like Gully's pony tail turned upside down. You could almost take it for a campfire.

Ursula, now anxious, makes a face to Michael as he glances her way, a why-can't-you-take-charge look that makes Michael swivel away in annoyance.

“As soon as we're through here we'll go take a look,” Michael says to his father. He crosses in front of the old man, to turn him back toward the building. They have reached the bottom step when they all jump at the sound of tires screeching on the highway. A logging truck has come to a desperate stop as a shiny RV cuts left in front of it and pulls in to the wide part of the drive by the hall. Ursula's hands are fluttering like birds let out of a cage, taking all her energy. She doesn't know what to say next.

“Let's get it over with,” she hears Michael say. It seems a mean way to look at things, but they are all making special efforts for Geneva's sake, that is no secret.

“Gulsvig Fisher! You've gone and shrunk up!”

Ruby Hammond's voice hangs in the air like the lowing of a cow. She steps down from the Marauder, livid in turquoise knit, but a good-looking woman who has had a much better life than her sister. She is widowed and well-off. As she comes toward the men, Gully turns and sprints up the stairs, suddenly spry.

Michael follows his father, brushing past Ursula without a word. Ursula waits for Ruby and awkwardly exchanges kisses, not quite on cheeks, not on mouths. “We were starting to worry,” she says.

Ruby tosses off their concern with extravagant waves of her arms. “I thought I had all the time in the world. I was only coming from Salem this morning, but the highway was an endless parade of poke-ass drivers. Oh, come on, where's that sis of mine?” She holds Ursula's arm tightly and starts up the stairs. “Fifty years! How has she stood it?” Ruby is half a foot taller than Ursula, and the effect is that Ursula feels like a schoolgirl in for a scolding. As soon as Ruby spots Geneva she lets go of Ursula and, with the same long braying as outside, calls to Geneva.

“Come and see my slick Marauder!” she says as she and Geneva unwind from smacking kisses and great hugs. She sees that a number of guests have turned to stare at her. “Anybody else want to come?” she says rather grandly, and indeed, as she turns, pulling Geneva with her down the stairs to the camper, she is followed by a small parade of the curious. In the yard, everybody stands around while the sisters go in and out of the fancy camper. Geneva pauses at the door of it to say, “It's so tidy, and handy, and
cute
!” She steps down, and speaks directly to the minister's wife. “I'd give anything to have a little house on wheels like that. You could go anywhere you wanted.” The minister's wife kindly agrees. Geneva does look yearning.

They all troop back inside and eat in a frenzy, jazzed up by Ruby's arrival. Ruby keeps Geneva close by her, but drags her around the room, demanding to be introduced to everyone. The volume in the room is way up, a good sign. Ursula starts around with a big bag, picking up abandoned spinach tarts and plates. Katie has found several pitchers and has set out water. Here and there, cups have overturned and made puddles. Ursula sees that the musicians are exhausted. A violinist takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face. Suddenly everyone has that semi-desperate look of readiness to depart.

“Okay, everyone!” Ursula announces. “Come around the table and have some cake!” They all do as she asks. A lot of the guests will be up for similar celebrations, if not for their own funerals, soon enough. Ursula resolves on the spot to see to it that her July Fourth picnic will be a real bash. She won't care if everyone gets falling-down drunk, as long as it is lively.

Gully has been gathered in like laundry off the line. Guests crowd in to offer congratulations one more time. Ursula rushes into the kitchen for the cake. Katie has found a big butcher knife.

“That'll do,” Ursula says firmly, and, cake balanced on her hands, she prances back to the party.

Geneva takes the butcher knife and applies it with a flourish to the cake. She is good at making do. Gully looks mortified, caught between his wife and sister-in-law behind the table, but at least no one is holding on to him anymore, and he has not bolted.

Mary Courter says, “I say fifty years is reason to cheer!” All oblige, bringing tears to Geneva's eyes. She takes the first gooey bite. She offers the next to Gully from her hand. His eyes are wild, but he takes one small morsel, with the enthusiasm of someone eating a sock. Ruby guffaws. “This cake is a gas!” she says. Geneva doesn't seem to notice, or mind. Guests come in to get their servings, then back away to other parts of the room. Ursula, amazed, realizes she has tears in her eyes. Michael comes to stand beside her, puts his arm around her waist, squeezes, and slides away. For him, it is a large gesture.

Still buoyant, Geneva calls out, “Goodbye, goodbye!” to the first couple out the door. They have a slightly guilty look, but when they make an easy escape, others follow. Ursula rushes over to Geneva to tell her she looks radiant. “Have you still got film?” she asks, taking Geneva's camera and urging Gully in close beside his wife. Gully says, “She's worn real well for an old gal, ain't she?” Geneva, pleased, makes a face at him and rolls her eyes. This is the expression Ursula catches, and then she realizes it is Geneva's last shot. Michael and Katie are making the rounds to pick up trash. A few guests linger, licking their fingers and chatting.

In walk Fish and Juliette. Fish is wearing the shirt Katie bought him for court last year. (He chose to wear instead the clear shame of jail garb, green coveralls.) The shirt is white with tiny red stripes; Fish looks like a stick of peppermint. He is fresh-scrubbed and combed, his hair still damp from washing. He has his head tucked, not looking at anyone. Juliette is in her dance garb, a black leotard with a black gauzy skirt that hangs in a swoop around her legs and flares as she moves.

Geneva stops in the middle of a word as Fish enters the hall. Her face falls. Ursula thinks,
But he came
! Then she looks at Fish and sees what Geneva sees, his uneasiness that can turn sullen and swollen as a flash flood. Juliette, with her hair caught up in a loose French roll from which long curling hairs have escaped, looks quite pretty. She has none of her bad mood left today, or at least she is not showing it.

Ursula has the sudden uncontrollable urge to escape. She turns and runs back to the kitchen. At the door she runs into Katie, both of them gasping at the impact which is, fortunately, aglance and not head-on. “Oh God!” Katie says, looking into the room, and “Oh!” again. Ursula reaches for Katie's hand and presses it. She is facing the kitchen. With her eyes she hints at escape, but Katie takes a step forward, moving Ursula backwards in the same move. “I'm the one who doesn't belong here,” she says. Her chin quivers.

“It's okay, Katie,” Ursula whispers. “He knew you'd be here. Don't worry.”

Katie moves past Ursula and walks up to Fish. She reaches him, with Ursula behind her, as he says to his mother, “I'm a nonperson now. For a year I was a number. Now I'm nothing.” Geneva is bewildered. “Not a father, not a husband, nobody's breadwinner. NOBODY. I can't even live in my own house because it's rented.” He bangs a fist into the other hand. Geneva's face has crumpled. Her collar is crooked. The button at her waist is undone, setting the scoop of her peplum askew. Katie bursts into tears. “This was going fine!” she half screeches. “Why didn't you stay away?!”

“Whose party is this?” Fish asks sarcastically. “Whose parents are these?” He is clenching his hand so tight the veins stand out. “Have you given Ma your little present yet? Your news?”

Ursula looks around for Michael. Both he and Gully have disappeared. Everyone else has gone, except for the musicians, who are gathering up their music stands and loading their car. Ursula considers fainting, but she doesn't think she can pull it off. She can see what is coming, and it makes her sick: Fish, wilted and self-pitying (his anger will lose momentum in a while), desperate and bitter, will be beaten by Katie's mounting hysteria, her accusations, all the things she has not said to him before he went to jail, or after he got out.

“What would you know about marriage?” Katie screams. “When did you ever keep a promise? When did you pay any attention? I had to take a goddamned TAXI to go have a BABY because you were DRUNK!”

Katie's anger hangs in the air. Geneva's face shows that she knows Gully is gone, that love does not work out, that Fish is in for a sorry fate. The cake, mostly gone, lies in a mound of slimy frosting. Ruby looks aghast, though she still looks full of energy. She does not retreat, as Fishers do. She is all attention.