“I think you’re teaching him a lot of bad habits. Beowulf has dragged many things into this house, but nothing as vile as a newspaper.”
Ed laughed. “When was the last time you read a paper?”
“About three years ago, when I went into town for a haircut. Ever since I’ve had Aidos cut my hair.”
“Hell, Thoreson, you know there’s a lot more to the world than the half-dozen dusty acres you and Aidos roam around on.” Ed smacked the rolled up New York Times into his other hand. “Here’s the stuff that makes the world go around!”
“Around in circles you mean.”
“Why are you such a pessimist, Thoreson?”
“Because I’ve known too many optimists?”
“So you admit it!”
“I admit nothing but your stupidity, Boswell.”
Ed laughed and threw his big hairy arm around Hardy’s shoulder. He gave him a manly, affectionate squeeze. “I like you, Thoreson.”
“Don’t threaten me, Boswell.”
Ed laughed again. “No, I really do. You say what you think, and although it’s nearly all crap, you mean it, and I admire that.”
“Please, Ed, I have my reputation to worry about.”
Ed stood up and brushed the seat of his pants. “There’s nothing to do around here,” he grumbled.
“Sure there is. Want to go for a hike?”
“No.”
“Want to help me weed the garden?”
“Absolutely no.”
“Well, the girls should be back soon. I’m sure they can come up with some ways to entertain you. Aidos has a whole list of things to do.”
“I’ve seen her list.”
Ed sat back down. He looked serious. It was late afternoon, and the breeze that typically accompanied the dusk was still an hour or so away. Ed’s face was flushed, and perspiration had bubbled up above his lip and around the few shafts of hair that populated his head.
“Look, Thoreson, about Aidos—how long do you plan on keeping her a prisoner up here? She can’t live like this forever. Eventually, she’ll have to go to college, right? How will she get into a good one without ever having studied anywhere or done anything? How will she make a living? The longer she hangs out up here, the more difficult it will be for her to adjust to the rest of the world.”
“Adjust?” Hardy said. “Come on, even you’d admit that she’s the most well-adjusted kid you’ve ever met.”
“Sure, she’s sweet and well-behaved—”
“Is that your idea of well-adjusted?”
“Don’t change the subject. You are lying to Aidos by keeping the hellish realities of the world away from her. How is she going to react when she discovers that all the while she was tiptoeing through the tulips, the rest of the world was up to its waist in criminality and blood? She’s so innocent. What does she know of evil? By the time you allow her into the world, you won’t be giving Aidos her freedom, you’ll be committing murder. The world will eat her alive!”
“My, my, Boswell, what a gruesome picture. I must be rubbing off on you.”
“Well?” Ed pressed.
“What do you want me to say? You think I haven’t thought about it? You think I don’t know what’s in store for her out there? I know; I was there. Julie and I talked about it years ago when we first moved here. We made a decision together, and I’m going to stick with it. To my mind, Julie still has a say in the matter.”
“Well, what is it?” Ed growled.
“None of your business.”
“You can be the biggest fool, Thoreson. Can’t you see Nancy and I just want to help? What’s the big deal? So Aidos spends the summer with us. Maybe she’ll like it, maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll want to stay longer, and maybe she’ll want to see what a decent school is like. At least give her the choice. I bet she’d like it.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
“Why not? I liked it. I liked school a lot. They were the happiest days of my life.”
“That’s BS,” Hardy said. “Anything compared to adulthood seems carefree and merry. Don’t sentimentalize, Ed. It’s tough being a kid, even more so today. And I can guarantee you this, there isn’t a kid at any school that is happier than Aidos is here.”
“Well, it’s easy to live happily up here because it isn’t real, but it’s not here where she’ll end up—it’s down there. If she is the well-adjusted girl that you say she is, then she ought to be able to be so anywhere.”
“You say it like a dare.”
“I’m not daring her, moron. I’m daring you. She’s just a kid. I told you already why I think she should stay with us. It’s you I’m challenging, or your ridiculous ideas anyway.”
“She’s not ready yet,” Hardy said, more to himself than to Ed.
“Ready for what? It may be too late already. She’s socially retarded as it is…”
Ed rambled on but Hardy was no longer listening. He stared into the woods. He could not hear Ed over the voices in his own head. A lifetime of shouting voices—words of reprimand, caution, and doubt. And then, floating out from the rest, a calm whisper. It was Julie’s voice: “She must have a chance.” But for what? He knew instinctively that the answer was to be found beyond the risk he himself had to take.
His brother-in-law’s booming voice startled him from his trance. Ed was glaring at him, demanding a reply. “What’s wrong with you?” He was disgusted.
“I was thinking.”
“That’s half your problem, Thoreson. You don’t know what you believe. It’s hell not knowing what you believe. A guy your age should know by now. You should have decided a few things a long ways back, and then stuck with them. Shit or get off the crapper, Thoreson.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Ed, other than you gave up thinking some twenty years ago because you found it a handicap.”
“I’m saying you’re so full of silly notions and ideals about how the world ought to be, that it stops you from dealing with what is. You’ve read a thousand books about life, but where has it gotten you? You’re just as muddle-headed as you were when you got married. And so you moved up here thinking that if you took enough strolls and dug enough in your garden, you would finally figure it all out. But you haven’t, have you? And it’s not enough that you’ve wasted your own life. You are so selfish and obsessed with your juvenile fantasy that you are willing to waste your daughter’s as well!”
Hardy Thoreson had no more glib responses. He knew there was some truth in Ed’s words, and he despised it. He saw Ed’s foot tapping impatiently, waiting for some kind of a reply. He didn’t have to answer, however, because Nancy and Aidos, horn honking, returned from Pinecrest.
14
The Skirmish and the Squeamish
Aidos bounded from the car and was instantly met by an ecstatic Beowulf. In his mouth was a rolled-up New York Times.
“What’cha reading, Beowulf? A newspaper? Hmm, that is bad news. Come on, let’s see what nature is publishing today.”
“Just a moment, young lady,” Nancy said sternly.
“Hubba, hubba!” Ed exclaimed, strolling up to the car with Hardy. He gaped in adoration of his niece and shook a limp wrist. “Well, well, if it isn’t Cinderella.”
“Doesn’t she look sweet?” Nancy said, her tone changing to pride. “Aidos, honey, turn around. Let your dad see the beautiful young woman that you really are.”
Aidos spun gracefully around, her skirt billowing as she twirled.
“Very pretty,” Hardy said. He really did think she looked enchanting, but he wasn’t about to give Nancy the satisfaction of knowing so. “How much do I owe you?”
“Forget it,” she said, equally unwilling to give her brother the satisfaction of undercutting her munificence. “Ed, there are more packages on the back seat.” Nancy had almost forgotten, but before she could warn him, he opened the door and leaped back with a start.
“What the—!” Regaining his composure, Ed said, “I hope you know that there’s an o
ld lady with tennis shoes curled up in the back seat of our car.”
“What?” Hardy said, taking a look for himself.
“Shh,” Aidos said. “She’s sleeping.”
Ed turned to his wife for an explanation. Nancy looked suddenly tired and frazzled. Ed knew the look well. It read—have I got a story for you. “Well,” he said, “what happened?”
“I’m not sure,” Nancy answered.
“What do you mean?”
“She was there when I came out of one of the galleries.”
“She fainted,” Aidos said, opening the other door. She pulled out a long, thick hiking stick.
“Fainted?” Ed said. “She’s an old woman, Nancy. Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?”
“She’s fine,” Aidos said. “She just got a little excited, that’s all. Bye everybody, Beowulf and I are going for a ramble.”
“Aidos,” Nancy said in disbelief. “You can’t just walk off like that.”
“Why not?” she asked artlessly. “Come on, Beowulf. Let’s see what we’ve been missing all day.”
“Aidos,” her aunt scolded, “you act like nothing happened when it’s all your fault.”
Hardy said, “Her fault?”
“Your daughter got into a fight,” Nancy said, as if now it was her brother’s fault.
“A fight?!” Ed said. “With who?”
Hardy turned to his daughter in concern. She shrugged and smiled, putting him instantly at ease. It was obvious that she wasn’t hurt.
“A bunch of boys,” Nancy said.
“A bunch?” Hardy said.
A long yawn was heard from the back seat of the car. When the old woman sat up the first thing she saw were the heads of Ed, Nancy, and Hardy looming down upon her. She blinked glassy-eyed, smoothed back her hair, tried straightening her blouse and, extending her frail hand to Nancy said, “Hello. Virginia Winters. Nice to meet you.”
“She’s drunk!” Ed said.
“No, she’s not,” Hardy said.
They helped her out of the car and Hardy handed Ms. Winters her glasses which had fallen onto the floor. “Aidos!” the old woman exclaimed, suddenly remembering.
“Aidos is fine,” Hardy assured her.
“Yes,” Nancy said. “She’s right over—. Where did she go?”
“She went for a walk,” Hardy said. “She’ll be back soon.” He put his arm around Virginia and helped her into the house. “I’ll make some tea and you can tell us all about it.”
“It happened so fast,” recounted Ms. Winters as they sat around the kitchen table. Hardy and Virginia sipped tea, and Ed and Nancy drank beer. “I seemed to get there somewhere in the middle. Or at the end. I mean, I saw it from a distance at first, and by the time I arrived…it was over. I was too late.”
“What did you see?” Ed said impatiently.
“A group of boys huddled in a circle making all kinds of jeering noises. In the alley behind my library.”
Ed said, “How many boys?”
“Eight, maybe ten. I didn’t think much about it because I’m used to seeing groups of kids hanging about town. They were making a lot of noise, but there was one of those infernal music boxes blasting away too, so I figured they were dancing or rapping—whatever it’s called these days. Then as I got closer I thought I saw Aidos in the middle of them… What was she doing there anyway?”
“She was on her way to visit you,” Nancy said.
“How nice,” Ms. Winters said. “She so rarely comes to town—”
“Go on,” Ed prodded.
“Well, it’s a little fuzzy, but I started walking faster, trying to get another glimpse of the girl. Suddenly there was all this commotion—pushing, hollering—that kind of thing. I sped up a little and could plainly see that it was Aidos. I wasn’t sure at first because I had never seen her in a dress before, but no one has a mane of hair like that girl. I shouted at the boys to stop, but no one heard me. When I got closer I saw two boys sprawled on the ground. I assumed some of the boys were fighting each other. But then to my horror, I saw one of the boys come at Aidos with a long stick! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought he was going to bash her with it the way he was swinging it about. She just stood there. The poor thing was frightened stiff no doubt.”
“My God!” Nancy said. “The animals. Aidos told me nothing of this.”
“I’d love to get my hands on one of those punks,” Ed growled.
“Did he hit her?” Hardy asked.
“Well,” Ms. Winters said, squinting as she tried to recall exactly what happened. “He tried, but the next thing I saw was the boy on the ground and Aidos holding the stick.”
“What?” Ed said. “Are you sure?”
“You saw the stick, Ed,” Nancy said. “It was the one she took with her on her walk.”
“So what happened next?” Ed asked. “You showed up screaming and the boys all took off running?”
“No, no. A horrible thing happened, which is why I can’t understand why Aidos isn’t here now. Or in the hospital.”
“But she seemed fine,” Ed said, looking around at the others.
Virginia shook her head in dismay. “But that’s impossible.”
“Well, what happened?” Ed demanded.
“One of the boys picked up a rock and threw it at her. It hit her smack in the face!”
“Obviously he missed,” Ed said.
“No, he didn’t. I’m telling you. He hurled the rock and I saw her hands fly to her face. She staggered back and crashed into some trashcans. It was awful! I screamed and then…I guess I fainted.” She shook her head in disappointment. “I’m such a wimp…”
Her hand trembling, Ms. Winters reached for her mug of tea. Embarrassed by her jitters, she clasped it with both hands and drank. No one said anything for a few moments, each contemplating the strangeness of the affair.
“We’ll just have to wait until Aidos gets back to tell us what happened,” Nancy said. “It’ll be dark soon. She’ll be home before dark, won’t she?”
“She had better be,” Ed said.
“Aidos likes the night,” Ms. Winters said. “We’ve taken many walks together in the dark, and without even a flashlight. Aidos says she can find her way in the dark as easily as in the light. She’s like a cat.”
“Still,” Nancy said, “it’s very dangerous and no father in his right mind would let his little girl roam about the woods alone at night. It’s ridiculous.”
“Beowulf goes with her,” Ms. Winters said timidly.
Nancy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Well, I just hope she’s back soon tonight because I can’t stand the thought.” She got up from the table and took her beer into the other room. Ed followed her.
“More tea, Virginia?” Hardy said.
“Your sister is very pretty,” she whispered. “You both have the same eyes—determined, willful.”
Hardy smiled. “You mean stubborn.”
“Something more than that, I think. You both desperately want to do what is good and what is right, but you can’t agree on which is which. That’s an old lady’s intuition anyway…”
Hardy became pensive. “You’d think that they’d be the same thing. You’d think that truth—”
“Oh, brother,” Ed interrupted, walking back into the kitchen for another beer. “I thought I convinced you today that it is a waste of time to ask unanswerable questions.” Ed opened the ice chest and cracked another beer. He took a long guzzle. The beer had put him into a more relaxed and playful mood. He stood erect, holding the bottle to his heart as if he was about to recite the pledge of allegiance. “Truth is beauty and beauty truth, that is all—” And then from the depths of Ed Boswell’s belly escaped a long, thunderous belch.
“Oh, Ed,” Nancy shouted from the other room. “You’re disgusting!”
Hardy and Ms. Winters burst into helpless laughter.
“Sorry,” Ed said sheepishly, his face bright red. But seeing that no one but Nancy was offended he laughed al
ong with the others.
A voice said, “What’s so funny?”
“Aidos!” Ms. Winters cried, rushing out of her chair to embrace the girl. “Let me look at you.”
Aidos gave her a hug and a kiss. “How are you feeling, Virginia?”
“I-I don’t understand…” Ms. Winters stuttered, searching the girl’s face for some sign of injury.
“Aidos,” Nancy said, reappearing into the kitchen, a look of relief on her face. “You’re back.”
Ed said, “Do you mind telling us what happened this afternoon? We’re all very concerned.”
“It was just a little misunderstanding.”
“But the rock!” Ms. Winters said. “I saw them hit you in the face with a rock!”
“No,” Aidos said. “I caught it. I only faked being hit because I knew it would scare them off, and it did.”
The others turned to one another in wonderment. But Ed was not satisfied. His righteous indignation had been aroused. He wanted to talk to the kids’ parents, and explain some things to them—with his fists if necessary. Or with his lawyer at his side. He begged Aidos for their names but she refused to tell him. Ed spittered and sputtered like a dieseling engine, until finally, under the stern, demanding eyes of his wife, he wheezed into silence.
15
Fish and Visitors
Ed and Nancy Boswell left Camelot just after breakfast the next morning. They never really expected Hardy to consent to their request this time around, but at least, they figured, he understood that their interest in his daughter’s well-being was earnest.
More enamored of the girl than ever, the couple was determined to have some say in her future. Aidos’ indifference to their invitation was not seen as rejection. The girl obviously loved them. They blamed her father who was “holding her prisoner in those damn woods.” If not for the woods and her father, she’d be free to live the life she deserved. That was their conclusion. All they lacked was a strategy.
“Fish and visitors stink after three days,” Hardy said as Ed’s car passed out of sight.
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