“It wouldn’t work with me,” Joe said.
“No, it wouldn’t. With you, I’d go golfing, or better, to the opera. You love that, and you probably haven’t been there for a while.” Lew was confident in what he said, knew exactly what he’d do, almost instinctively. “But sex would work with Gary,” he said, indicating he knew something that Joe didn’t.
“Don’t bet on it,” Gary said.
“I would bet on it. Your marriage is not the best. I’ve paid attention.” Lew finished his wine and set the goblet next to the sofa leg.
“We have our problems, but I love my wife.”
“See,” Lew said.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Lew looked over at Joe, whose face looked as though he were lost.
“What about since Matthew was born? How’s it been?”
“She’s been fine.” Gary looked over at Joe for help, but Joe sat still and said nothing. “My wife takes good care of Matthew. She’s a good mother and wife.”
Lew smiled. “You know you haven’t even said her name yet. It’s always, my wife or she. Have you noticed, Joe?”
“Now that you mention it, I do.”
“You guys aren’t very close,” Lew said. I sense that your sex life has been affected because of the trial separation a while back, and if I paid someone to approach you, you’d accept her advances, not knowing where it came from. I’d nab you the next day and manipulate you through a combination of pleasure and guilt. I’d get the account. Guaranteed.”
“I hope you’ re wrong,” Joe said.
“I seldom am.” Lew leaned his head back as though he’d already won. In a moment of vanity, he said, “I am Wolf, the hunter. At your expense, I feed my family.”
CHAPTER 2
WOLF NAILED PIZZA HUT perfectly, and watched their profits rise like hot air balloons. He sat on a bench in Central Park, wishing he were in the woods tracking some animal.
That spring, the chill air of winter lingered along the streets of New York. The trees had awakened, budding and greening. Soft breezes rustled the gum wrappers, napkins, and cigarette butts along the street. The odor in the air was a mixture of country freshness, automobile exhaust, and cigar smoke.
He watched the people scurry by, imagining them in the privacy of their own homes, examining their personal lives, intuitively knowing them, learning their strengths and weaknesses. Observation was his art and his exercise; picking up the nuances of the passers-by, noting how they held their heads, moved their legs, whether they looked at him or away.
He had taken the afternoon off. There was a barbecue happening that evening at Gary’s house in White Plains where Gary had his practice. Everyone would be there: Joe, Susan and the kids, Gary and Lynne and their son. Wolf was supposed to pick up the woman he was dating, but was in the process of changing his mind.
He missed Michael. Ever since Julie and Sam moved to New Jersey, he only went to see Mike every couple of weeks. It was too much trouble getting out of the city during rush hour, let alone Friday rush hour. He felt he was losing touch with his son and with himself.
While deep in thought, Wolf became alert when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. A bum had spotted him and was heading over. Wolf decided to practice his ability to intimidate, a talent that came in handy when going up against a hard-nose. Focusing on his own face first, creating the feeling of snarling teeth, the shape of a wolf, then concentrating on the strength of his shoulders and arms, and finally his neck, Wolf turned his head and, with piercing eyes, looked right through the man as he neared.
The bum increased his gate, mumbled a few words, and walked past Wolf. The lingering odor of filth and sweat trailed behind him as he passed.
Wolf stood quietly and, a few moments later, headed for the subway. He hadn’t planned to change clothes. In his mood there was no reason to stay long at the barbecue. He’d only bum everyone else out. He’d call Sharon, his supposed date, when he got to Gary’s. She wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t give a shit what she liked.
***
“Uncle Wolf!” Joe’s oldest, Melanie, ran over to grab Wolf ’s hand when he arrived. She had always been Wolf ’s biggest fan and he thought of her as part of his pack, protecting her, at times, from the discipline of her own parents. Susan came up and kissed his cheek and took Melanie’s hand. “Wolf.”
“Hi, Susie, where’s Big Joe? Working?”
“No, not at all, he’s out back.” She let him pass, still holding Melanie’s hand.
At the doorway to the back yard, they met up with Lynne, who kissed Wolf directly on the mouth. “It’s so nice to see you. We should meet for lunch some time and talk. It’s been a while.”
“Sure,” Wolf said, wondering where the hell she was coming from.
Gary stood at the far side of the patio next to the grill. Joe approached from the opposite direction. “Wolf. I see you brought your new girl friend.” He smiled at Melanie.
“My forever girl,” Wolf said, patting her hand.
“Sharon with you?” Joe asked.
“No. I need to call her, though.”
“Rough week?”
“You can always tell, can’t you Joe?”
“Usually.”
“Intuition?”
“No. You just look beat when you’ve had a rough one.” Joe put his hand on Lew’s shoulder and rubbed it gently. Joe was a healer in many senses of the word. In a moment of pure expression, Lew looked into Joe’s eyes and said, “I don’t know what to do.”
Joe let his hand slip to the more personal and intimate location of the back of Lew’s neck. “We’ll talk a little later. That okay?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
The wind through Gary’s back yard swooped down to rustle the napkins on the round condiments table. A half-empty, plastic bottle of ketchup fell over. Lew heard its thud as a loud drum banging and wondered what it was inside his head that accentuated everything. “I’ll call Sharon,” he said to Joe. He let go of Melanie’s hand and touched her shoulder. “Excuse me a minute will you, sweetheart?”
Wolf lifted the kitchen telephone and heard voices, so he quickly lowered it back into its cradle. He leaned against the sink counter to wait, and watched out the window as the people out back spoke to one another, little groups of buzzing bees, chirping birds, primarily small talk. He felt anger creep into his chest as he waited. Anxiety often felt like, and was expressed as, anger through him. Unless he chose to relax purposely, he felt as though he was waiting, and he shouldn’t have to wait for anyone. Waiting for someone meant that he wasn’t important, and he couldn’t stand the fact that it might be true.
As he stood watching the others, he remembered going places alone because he couldn’t stand waiting for Julie. There were plays, concerts, and parties. Still, he’d feel guilty most of the night because he’d left her behind. Sometimes his life seemed nothing more than alternating feelings of guilt and anger. How he could relax long enough to pay attention to his intuition, to hunt, was somewhat of a mystery at times, even to him. But he did it. Work itself had become a separate life, a discipline, one where he practiced reading and manipulating people. There, he lived by instinct, hunting and conquering required it.
He lifted and lowered the telephone again, waited, repeated the action, and finally got a dial tone. He punched in Sharon’s number. “Hi, it’s Wolf.”
“I recognize the voice. What happened to you?” She sounded annoyed.
“I came to the party alone.”
“No reason why? You just decided to leave me hanging here?”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. I called so you wouldn’t worry. Next time I won’t bother.”
“Next time? If there is one, you could actually pick me up.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up. Those old feelings, guilt and anger, remained as he shifted focus to the people at the party. He imagined them as his wolf pack, trying to place each personality in its proper place
in his extended family. He drove his attention away from himself, creating an animal’s life outside his own. He walked straight out the sliding doors off the kitchen and made his way to where Gary stood sovereign with his chef’s sceptre. “I’m taking over now,” he said, reaching for the spatula.
Gary looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, help yourself,” and surrendered the grill-work to Lew.
The evening shifted in excitement as everyone eased the tensions of the week and glided into thoughts of the weekend, their families and plans. Wolf imagined killing and butchering the beef he cooked, imagined portioning it out to his pack, keeping it healthy and alert, dangerous and devoted. He entered into short conversations with whoever decided to stop by. Yet, like the hunter he believed himself to be, he wanted desperately to go back into the wilderness, to be back on the hunt. His life, for so long, had been the hunt, bringing food and wealth back to the pack, that he had lost touch with them to the point of exclusion. He didn’t feel welcome, and often, he wasn’t.
Even as he separated himself through fantasy, despair crept in. Something was happening to him. He felt he was the one being hunted, felt as though he was the fast gun that others came into town to defeat. Why he had such feelings he didn’t know, but he would keep his eyes open, become alert to details. He would make it his next discipline: to protect himself.
“I’m Al,” Lew heard as someone held out his hand.
Lew gripped the man’s hand and shook it once. “You’re Gary’s new partner,” Lew said with assurance.
“Yeah, and you’re Wolf. Odd nickname.”
“My father gave it to me.” That’s what he always told people whether it was true or not.
“Well, Wolf, did you kill this one?” Al pointed to the three remaining hamburgers on the grill.
“Actually, Gary did. They’re probably about one-third venison from a kill he made this past fall.”
“Really?”
“It makes the burgers more lean, gives it a slightly gamely taste at times too, but not always.”
“Wow,” Al seemed impressed, although Lew didn’t know whether it was his understanding of the effects of venison mixed with beef or that Gary had hunted and killed the deer. “I’ll try one.”
And so the evening carried on that way until the sky darkened, as much as it can that close to the city, and the breezes became cool. Susan, Lynne and Al’s wife, Connie, cleaned up as the grilling was being completed and everyone had been served to their satisfaction.
The children were put to bed or stacked in front of the television watching Disney movies in the rec room. The adults separated into groups in the kitchen or living room. Al and his wife, Connie, left first. Later, Susan took the girls home in her car and Joe stayed behind. “I’ll be home later. Wolf needs a ride,” he told her. Then he whispered into her ear, “He also needs someone to talk to.”
She smiled into her husband’s face. “I love you. Hurry home.”
“I will.”
After Lynne went upstairs there remained only the three of them, Lew, Joe and Gary: the pack’s providers. Sitting there, a couple of beers in him, Lew began to feel more and more separated. Once his wife and child were gone, he reflected that the old way he used to fit in had disappeared. He felt like a wolf whose mate and litter had been killed.
“What is it, Wolf?” Joe asked.
“My life feels empty.” Lew looked down and shook his head slowly from side to side. He let his despair come back, let it slide into him as his usual anger dispersed.
“What’s wrong now?” Gary said.
“Please,” Joe held up one finger towards Gary, wordlessly asking him to wait for Wolf to explain.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Lew suddenly felt cornered. He had to be in control of his life; he could not—would not—show any fear, any pain, whatsoever.
“Then, why’d Joe ask what’s wrong, and why’d you say your life was empty?”
“I was just missing Michael, that’s all.” Lew wanted it dropped, yet the alcohol worked on him, slowed him down, made him ultra-sensitive to his own emotions. He felt like crying, but instead lifted his head in defiance of what he perceived as Gary’s ridicule. “When all the families get together, I miss my own. No big deal. I can handle it.”
“That’s understandable,” Joe said.
“You jealous that we still have them?” Gary asked harshly.
“Why would you say that?” Joe said.
“I saw the way he and Lynne looked at each other.”
“What?” Lew acted shocked.
“You’re always trying to one up me, Wolf, but that’s really low. Putting the make on my wife. It’s bullshit.”
“You’re drunk, Gary. He was at the grill all night. He wasn’t putting the make on anyone.”
“You always stick up for him, don’t you, Joe? What is it with you two?”
“Gary,” Joe stood up, “it’s time we go. You need to sleep this off.”
“Sure, run off.” Gary waved his hand, whisking them away.
Lew stood and followed Joe to the door.
Gary got up and staggered over. “Thanks for coming.” He looked at Lew. “Sorry, buddy. I’m hammered.”
“That’s no excuse,” Joe said.
Lew took Gary by the shoulders. “It’s okay. Don’t sweat it.”
In Joe’s car, Lew leaned back and gave a big sigh. “Asshole,” he said.
“What? For a moment there I thought you were going to be an adult.”
“Yeah. Well, I didn’t do anything.”
“You two have always competed. I don’t know where you guys get off calling each other friends, sometimes.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Lew said.
Joe drove for a few minutes and let Lew look out the side window. When Lew’s shoulders relaxed, Joe quietly asked him once again what was the matter.
“I don’t fit in. You’ve all got your families, your lives. It all rotates around ballet class and soccer practice, what movies are okay for kids to watch, how to get them to eat more fruit and vegetables without sounding authoritative. All I have is work anymore. Even that’s starting to fall apart. I feel empty. I miss my son.”
“You lost an account?”
“You make it sound like that’s all it takes. Well, that’s not all. It’s how I feel!” Lew pounded his chest.
Joe couldn’t recall the last time Lew talked about how he felt. It was always what he’d done to whom to get an account. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Something’s going to happen, Joe, and I’m scared.”
“What do you think it is? Are there big problems at work? Can I help?”
“No. There’s nothing anyone can do. And, it’s not just work, dammit. I wish you’d stop suggesting it is. It’s everything. I can feel something closing in on me. I don’t want to be around Sharon any more. At work, I say things without thinking. I can’t order lunch without wondering if the food might be bad. Sleeping is impossible.”
“Wow.”
“What do I do?”
“Take a vacation. Maybe you need to think. Get things straight in your head again. Go somewhere beautiful.”
Lew laughed and shook his head. “Maybe.”
“And I don’t mean a hunting trip. I mean relax, maybe even read a book. Do nothing.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Try. Can’t is won’t.”
“We’ll see.”
“And go alone. You don’t need anyone around to antagonize,” Joe said.
“Thanks for that.”
“I don’t want to sound like Gary, Wolf, but you know I’m right. You can’t hold back. I think sometimes it’s so innate with you that you do it subconsciously.”
“I wasn’t bad at the party. I stayed to myself.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t seem pleasant if you tried, but you had decided to keep to yourself. It’s like playing a game to you. It wasn’t the real you at the party, it was some aspect of the
businessman you are. You played it safe.”
“Now you’re hounding me. How do you know that’s not the real me? Maybe I’ve changed. Not that I have to. I’m competitive. Maybe to a fault. But that’s me.”
“Take it or leave it, right?” Joe pulled up in front of Lew’s apartment building. He turned in his seat to face Lew, but a street lamp blurred his friend’s image. “I’m your friend. You can lie to me if you want, but you’ve got to be honest with yourself.”
“Right.” Lew opened the door and got out of Joe’s car. Without turning back to look at his friend, he said, “Thanks for the ride,” and let the door shut behind him.
Joe shook his head and drove home.
Before going to bed Lew stood in front of his bathroom mirror and studied the shadows of his reflection in the weak glow of a nightlight. He told people who asked that he kept the night-light burning so he didn’t stumble into the bathroom when he was half asleep. The truth was, Lew was afraid of the dark. Sometimes the empty house frightened him, too. He heard things. He told himself that even wolves hunted by moonlight. Rationalizing sometimes helped. But most of the time, behind his anger and drive, lurked his secret fear of the dark.
That night Lew tossed in bed, reviewing the past week, the lost account, Sharon and how he felt about her, and the meal he prepared at Gary’s cookout. He kept seeing his own face in the mirror, the nightlight accentuating the shadows, pushing his eyes deeper into their sockets, sinking his cheekbones. He kept hearing something walk around in the front room. At one point in the night, he forced himself to go out and check on it. Like always, like every other time, he had to imagine himself the hunter, the wolf, just to get the nerve to check it out. Somehow that slight of mind always gave him strength to overcome his fears.
That weekend he made up with Sharon, in return for her company and for the sex, even though he had had about enough of the relationship. Sunday evening, he manipulated her into an argument about dinner—the beginnings of the end. He knew just what he was doing.
Terry Persun's Magical Realism Collection Page 25