by Scott Snyder
I felt Grace tense up at the sight of all those people—the joints in her arm locked—and I grew nervous too.
“We don’t have to do this,” I said.
She gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I want to show you off,” she said.
A band from Canada played country songs in French beneath a tent at the edge of the lawn; couples had already begun to dance in a loose ring. As we crossed the lawn to the food, I felt Grace beginning to relax, but my own anxiousness only grew worse. People were staring. Most of them tried not to be obvious about it, but I could feel them looking at us, at Grace.
“Wade, are you all right?” said Grace.
I told her that I was.
“Hey, they’re all staring at me, not you, okay?” She took my hand. “They’re wondering how I landed the hottest stud in town.”
“Grace…”
“Come on, let’s dance,” she said. Before I could refuse, she kissed my hand and led me toward the tent.
We stopped at the edge of the moving ring of couples. I put my hands on Grace’s waist and pulled her close as we entered the flow of people and began to dance across the grass. Her skin was a deep brown and smooth as the underside of a shell. I felt my heart relaxing. I caught sight of Petyr standing by the edge of the tent, and I watched over Grace’s shoulder as he tapped one foot in time to the music. Every few moments he’d let himself be swept along with the couples; he’d post his arm as though he’d found a partner and take a few graceful steps in the direction of the dance before hurrying off the floor and returning to the spot where he’d begun.
“I want to fly away with you in a blimp,” I said to Grace. Everywhere, hoppers leapt out of the yellow grass. The feeling was like dancing across the surface of a fizzing glass of champagne.
She laughed. “A blimp? Like a zeppelin?”
“A blimp. I want to fly across the country with you in a blimp. Just coast, the two of us weightless up there.”
She put her head on my shoulder and we kept dancing like that, swaying back and forth, while the other couples moved around us in unison, spinning, rising and falling like the working parts of a carousel. I kissed her neck and closed my eyes.
“Wade!” said Haymont, dancing next to us with his little daughter standing on his toes. “I didn’t think you’d come today. You two about make the cutest couple here.”
“I don’t know how that’s possible when you’ve got the prettiest girl around,” said Grace. She winked at Haymont’s daughter, who pressed her face into his belly.
Haymont laughed. “She’s a shy one tonight. She’s actually a big fan of yours.”
Grace thanked him, though I could tell that, as always, he was making her uncomfortable.
“So, a little birdie told me you’re taking Wade away from us. I get such a kick out of picturing him out in California,” he said, and gave a big coughing laugh that nearly shook his daughter off him. “Wade driving down Hollywood Boulevard with the palm trees whizzing by. Waving to the stars.” He laughed again, staring too hard at Grace.
“Let’s go, Daddy,” whined Haymont’s daughter.
“Bailey, don’t be rude, now,” Haymont said to her. “Daddy’s having a conversation here.” But when he turned back to us, Grace had already put her head on my shoulder.
Haymont waited a moment. “You two have a good night, now,” he said, finally.
We thanked him and he waddled off, maneuvering his daughter like a marionette.
“Not all of California’s like that,” Grace said into my neck. “That’s just a small part. Besides, we’re not going to stay.”
“I know,” I said, but as we made our way around the ring, Haymont’s words stayed with me. I could feel him watching us, feel other people watching too. Making no bones about it now, just staring from their tables. And I knew so few of them. I could hardly pick out a familiar face. I saw a young girl whisper something to her mother and point at us. I saw her mother laugh into her napkin. I realized that this was what California was going to be like. People I didn’t know gawking at us, laughing. Laughing because it was funny to see someone like me with someone like Grace. I caught sight of Petyr again, dancing alone by the edge of the tent, and a series of images flashed through my mind, images of myself alone in California, alone at all the places I’d read about in my guidebook. On the beach. On the pier beneath a swarm of seagulls. At the aerospace fictitious museum, standing before an enormous, dangling model of the moon. I held Grace tighter against me, but even as I did I grew angry. It seemed like too long ago that I’d been happy alone, that I’d preferred it that way, and now I was suddenly following someone to the other side of the country. Someone I’d only known a matter of months. Someone who was just vacationing in my life. Someone who would leave me; who, in her own mind, had probably already left.
“Grace,” I said, “I need to talk to you about California.”
“I know. God, we’re leaving so soon and we haven’t ever really discussed my life out there, have we?”
“No,” I said.
“It’ll be difficult. But I’ll only need a couple of weeks. I promise.”
“I think you should go without me,” I said.
Grace pulled back. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you should go to California without me. You could fly out and get done what you need to get done and I could stay here until you get back. I’d just be in your way out there.”
“In my way? The whole fun was going to be driving out together. I thought you wanted to go with me.”
“I did. I do. It’s just that hunting season is about to start and Haymont needs me at the store. He’d never say so, but I know he does. I can tell.”
The song ended and everyone bowed and curtsied. When the music began again, we continued around the ring.
“I don’t want to go without you, Wade,” Grace said, and laid her head on my shoulder again. As soon as her face touched my shirt, the sudden, overwhelming feeling shot through me that I was making a tremendous mistake. I had a stinging urge to tell her that I loved her, that I needed her, but I couldn’t do it. In my mind, I begged her to ask me to come with her. I pleaded with her to ask me just once.
“I guess it would be easier if I went alone. It’d make things simpler to deal with,” she said. And then, as though she could hear my thoughts: “Wade, you know I’ll come back, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, already trying to memorize the sound of her voice, the feeling of her back against my hands.
“I mean, I’ll only stay out there as long as I have to.”
“I know,” I said.
Grace’s eyes searched mine. “Wade. I will. I’ll come back.”
I kissed her. “You’ll come back,” I said.
Later, while Grace danced with Petyr, I walked to the edge of the lawn and tossed the tin ladybug into the woods, where it was quickly swallowed by the ferns.
Grace called three times from California. The first call came just after she’d landed. I got home from work and found the light blinking on the machine. I could hear the slowing whine of the plane’s engines in the background of her message. “Well, the eagle has landed,” she said, “and all she wants to do is take off again and fly straight back there. Ugh, Wade. Get me out of here. I wish you’d come with me. I miss your tummy. I’m going home to take a nap, so don’t bother calling. I’ll try you tonight. Kiss Sonny for me.”
I went to work and tried to keep busy, but I couldn’t keep my mind on anything. Twice I almost gave equipment away for free.
I told myself she wasn’t going to call. I told myself I didn’t want her to.
But that night, when no call came, I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up and watched the fireflies waste themselves against my window.
She didn’t call the next morning either. I assumed she would call sometime that day, but instead of waiting around, I went scavenging with Sonny. I took him with me in a small pouch I’d bought, a pouch I could strap onto my back. We walke
d for hours, just the two of us. We hiked deep into the woods, deeper than I usually went, and late in the afternoon I found an amazing thing. A baby shoe dipped in copper. But I wasn’t as excited as I knew I should be. I wasn’t excited at all. Instead, the whole idea of being out in the woods, hunting for buried junk, suddenly felt ridiculous. It felt like a waste of time.
When I got home that night there was still no message from Grace. I felt a bubble of anger rise in my stomach.
I called the number she’d left, but all I got was a recording telling me that she was out of range. I called again, but the same thing happened. I called the office number she’d given me.
“Hello, Wade,” said the office woman before I even opened my mouth. Her voice was hoarse and grating. “Grace gave me your number. My phone has it memorized. I’ll tell her you called, okay?”
Again that night I couldn’t sleep. The air crackled with her absence. I tried Grace’s personal phone number again and again, into the early morning hours, but each time I got that same recording. Sometime around noon, I fell asleep by the window. I woke with a throbbing sunburn on half my face. The light on my machine was blinking.
“Wade, I’m so, so sorry I didn’t call earlier,” said Grace. “I know you’ve been trying to reach me. Don’t worry, though, all right? Nobody’s going to kidnap me or steal me away. You don’t have to keep calling. We’ll be all right. I just have a million things to do. Miss you. I’ll try you tomorrow.”
Three days passed with no word from her. I thought about flying out there. I thought about tracking her down.
Finally, the phone rang.
“Hello?” said Grace. I could hear car horns and voices in the background. “Hello, Wade?”
“Grace?” I said.
“Wade, are you there? Hello?”
“Yes! I’m here!” I said, both furious at her and panicked she’d hang up.
“Jesus. Hang on a second.”
A rustling sound came from the other end, then things quieted down.
“Yikes. Sorry about that,” said Grace. “I had to get away from the tables.”
“I miss you,” I said angrily.
“I miss you too. I’m sorry things have been so crazy here. The web is more tangled than I remembered.”
“Grace, I want to come out there.”
“Hon, that’s not a good idea. I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off and I—”
“Please, Grace. Just let me.”
“Wade, I can’t talk about this right now. I’m at a restaurant and the person I’m meeting just walked in.”
“Who are you meeting? What’s going on?”
“Just calm down, Wade, all right? You’re acting silly.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! I want to come out there.”
“Stop it, okay? Stop! Take some time and cool off. I’ll call you when I get a moment.”
The line went dead.
I tried to call her back but all I got was that recording. I called her office but no one picked up. I called twice more, and on the third try, a recording told me that my phone had been blocked by the number I was trying to reach. My face and hands pulsed with a painful heat.
I looked around my house at all the things I’d collected over the years. The trinkets and baubles and junk. I ran my arm along a shelf, knocking everything to the ground. I tore the shelf off the wall and threw it across the room. I smashed another shelf, and another. Soon the room was littered with broken things. I got in my truck and gunned it into town.
It was dark by the time I arrived at the store. Haymont was just locking up. I pushed past him and made my way to the counter, where the phone was kept. I dialed Grace’s office.
That same woman picked up. “Put me through to Grace,” I said.
“It doesn’t work that way,” she said, and hung up.
I called again and a recording told me that all phones in my area code had been blocked by the number I was trying to reach. I was about to slam the phone to the ground, when I remembered the one other number I had. I dialed.
“Hello?” said Petyr.
“Petyr, it’s me, Wade,” I said, overcome with gratitude. “Please. I need to talk to Grace.”
“Grace asked me not to accept any calls from you, Wade,” Petyr said in that quiet, soothing voice of his. “I have to go now. I’m hanging up. I’m sorry.”
The line cut off.
“Are you all right?” said Haymont.
I looked up at him standing by the counter with his tie slung over his shoulder. I was about to yell at him to call Petyr for me, but something about the way he was looking at me caused me to stop. His eyes were fearful and he was shying away, almost cringing. I stepped forward to hand him the phone and he actually flinched. It reminded me of how frightened I’d been of that boy, the one who’d appeared in my kitchen long ago, so ravenous. I thought of how I’d recoiled as the dimpled black meat of his arms came toward me.
“How about we relax, Wade, all right?” said Haymont. “Please.”
I put the phone down and drove home.
Eventually, as the weeks passed with no word from her, I came to understand that I would never see Grace again. This knowledge left me feeling both empty and strangely calm. The days grew quiet and dry. The August heat finally broke, causing leaves to crack and fall to the ground in brown particles. I decided to build a new hunting stand. I placed it farther up the trunk than the old one, up in the highest branches. I went scavenging with Sonny until late in the day, until it was nearly dark and our shadows stretched deep into the woods.
One morning, I woke to the sounds of going home. I realized, as I climbed from bed, that this was the day all the children were leaving for the winter. I fixed myself a coffee and headed out onto the porch to watch the buses take them away.
The day was very bright. I had to put on Grace’s old sunglasses to be able to look at the camp without my eyes hurting. So many of the children were slim this year. There was hardly a fat one among them. I watched as they scurried around, hugging each other good-bye and exchanging numbers and addresses, loading their bags and duffels onto the buses. I went up to my stand to get a better view.
As I made my way up the rungs, though, I became aware of a creaking above me. I glanced up at the stand and saw that someone was already up there.
I froze halfway up the tree. Grace. She’d come back.
A breeze washed over me. I began climbing again, my hands almost trembling. What would I say to her when I reached the stand? Part of me wanted to hug her. Another part wanted to hurl her to her death. When I neared the top of the trunk, though, I saw that the person in my stand wasn’t Grace at all.
I pulled myself up onto the platform.
“You can see the whole camp from up here,” said Patty. She was sitting cross-legged at the platform’s edge. Her hair was finally loose. It hung down her back in a shimmering black fan. She was much smaller than she had been at the start of the summer, but she was by no means thin.
“You’re going to miss your bus,” I said.
She glanced over her shoulder and studied me a moment. “I pictured you different,” she said. She spoke with a slight, lovely accent. “I thought you’d be older. Scarier.”
“You should go. You’re going to be left behind.”
But she didn’t move, just sat and stared at the camp, where the buses were already loading up. I sat down beside her. How strange she looked, part fat, part thin, like someone caught between two versions of herself. Her legs were almost slender, but there were crushed black veins in her ankles. Her neck was thin but her face was puffy and shiny with sweat.
Down at the camp, the buses began shuddering to life.
I noticed a chunk of something resembling a moon rock in Patty’s lap. “What’s that?” I said.
She glanced at the rock, turning it over in her hands. “It’s salt. Rock salt.”
She brought the rock to her mouth and bit off a piece. She sucked and chewed i
t. “See?” she said, and handed me the rock.
I took it and bit off a hunk. Immediately my tongue began to burn. Chewing it, I felt as though my teeth were cracking and shattering against its surface. My mouth filled with liquid.
Patty smiled at me. “Stings!” she said. Her eyes were bloodred from tearing. Drool leaked from her mouth.
Wiping her chin, she inched closer to me, and together we sat and watched the buses pull out of the lot. Counselors stood in the grass, waving good-bye.
I wished that Grace was there, that she was sitting beside me in my stand, watching the children leave for home. I could almost see her next to me instead of Patty, sitting at the platform’s edge in her jeans and T-shirt, her hair pulled back from her spoiled face. I could practically feel her there, pressing against me. Her head was on my shoulder now, her hair soft against my neck. I smiled, staring out at the sloping woods through her old sunglasses. Because everything was all right. She was back with me. The sky was the bluest of blues, and the land was rich with gold.
Part One: The Two Ferns
THE RULE FOR GUARDING THE DUMPSTER WAS SIMPLE: NO ONE, under any circumstances, takes anything out.
So imagine my chagrin when I woke to the sounds of someone rummaging around inside the dumpster’s hull. I wiped a porthole in my fogged-up windshield and saw that it was before dawn: the sky dark, the mist still clinging to the palm trees. I fished around until I found my spear gun and got out of the car.
“Time to quit that,” I said, and banged on the dumpster’s side, sprinkling rust everywhere.
The noise from inside stopped.
“Out,” I said.
A man peeked over the lip. He was older than I’d expected for a thief; he looked to be in his seventies, skinny and bent, with unkempt hair and a dirty white beard.
“What seems to be the problem?” he said.
“Scat. Now.”
“All right. Fine. Goddamn.” The old man swung his leg over the top of the dumpster and lowered himself to the ground with surprising agility. He wore no shirt, just a pair of cutoff jeans shorts with long, fraying threads hanging off the ends. Spatters of pink spots dotted his chest and shoulders from years of too much sun. In his hand was a duck with part of its beak blown off.