“Well, shit, then let’s go for it! Let’s have a little fun! What the fuck are we doin’ around here, anyway? Just drinking beer and telling each other bedtime stories. Life’s gotta have more to offer, my brothers.”
10
With abundant sunlight falling across the foot of the sofa-bed delivered the day before, Mitch raised up on his elbow and looked at Lisa. During the night, the sheet and blanket had slipped down to her waist, leaving her bare back exposed; from the steady rhythm of her breathing, she appeared to be still asleep.
Turning aside his portion of the covers, he sat up on the edge of the bed. Waiting to see if the movement woke her up, he stood up and, crossing the room, went into the bathroom.
When he came out a short time later, she was sitting up in the bed, with her pillow propped up behind her and the sheet covering the bottom half of her breasts. Cocking her head to one side, she smiled coyly.
“I was hoping to wake up another way,” she said.
Mitch grinned and sat down beside her. “I can arrange that,” he said, and leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.
She put her arms around him. Pulling back the covers, he lay down next to her and, stroking her inner thigh, kissed her on the stomach.
An hour later, with sunlight coming full into the room, they awoke a second time.
Lisa, drawing her knees up, snuggled closer.
“So what do you want to do today?” she asked, putting one arm around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.
“Well, the first thing I want to do is tell you about this interesting dream I had last night…”
She kissed him on the cheek again. “Was I in it?”
“As a matter of fact…”
“Really?”
“Yeah…you featured in it quite prominently.”
Lisa propped up on her elbow. “How so?”
“Well, in my dream, I was at this dinner party, just like last night, and the hostess introduced me to this ravishing brunette. And not only did she introduce me, but she sat this woman right next to me. The next thing I knew, I was being charmed and beguiled into contributing time and talent to the hostess’s pet project. Afterwards, after I agreed to help out however I might, I was given a reward that many men only get in their wildest fantasies or in their dreams…”
“And what would that be?”
“I got to seduce her—or, rather, she seduced me.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“And, so, was there any part of the dream you didn’t like? Was it more like…a nightmare, maybe?”
“Hardly.”
“Well, then, what was the best part?”
“When I woke up and realized it wasn’t a dream. That it was for real.”
Giving him a soft but enigmatic smile, Lisa looked searchingly into his eyes; then, touching her lips lightly to his, she pulled back and said, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mitch. If a fair wind blows your way, just spread your sails and enjoy it.”
“I intend to. I intend to revel in it, as long as it lasts.”
“Good. And now if you’ll excuse me, it’s my turn to go potty.”
Mitch watched as, naked, she padded across the rug and went into the bathroom. He listened as she put the toilet seat down and relieved herself. It was a crude sound, to be sure, but all the same the lack of embarrassment and self-consciousness it implied pointed to a level of comfort that made the act one of intimacy.
After flushing the toilet, she came back into the room and over to the bed. She flopped down beside him, atop the covers, and, turning on her side, braced herself on her elbow. “I’m really curious about you, Mitch, and I want you to tell me the truth…”
“Which truth is that?”
“The true truth.”
“The one I talk about or the one I hold true?”
“The one I wanna know about.”
“I don’t have a choice?”
“You do. But it better be the right choice.”
“Okay, I give up. What’re we talking about here?”
“The group…”
“Heidi’s?”
“Of course. What do you really think?”
“Diplomatically or realistically?”
“Don’t humor me, Mitch. For real.”
Mitch sat up on the bed. He crossed his legs under the covers. Gesturing irresolutely, he made a face.
“To tell the truth, I haven’t given it much thought. It sounds radical, to be sure—maybe over-the-top radical—but I’m not surprised. Heidi has always been involved in one kind of cause or another. It’s almost like she’s enamored of the idea itself, regardless of the issue…”
“So you disapprove?”
“I’m not saying that at all. I think environmental activism is a good thing, even a necessary thing. But tactics?—I don’t know.”
“You’re playing it safe here, aren’t you, Mitch?”
“Well, her heart’s in the right place, and I respect that. But I think it’s a dangerous game she’s playing. And it’s not something I’m sure I want to be involved in—directly, at any rate. I might secretly donate money and lend moral support, but I’d stay out of it otherwise.”
Facing him, Lisa got up on the bed and crossed her legs yoga fashion. Putting her hands on her knees, she leaned closer to him.
“It’s not a game, Mitch,” she said earnestly, her voice rising. “None of it’s a game. It’s about a group of people smart enough, sensible enough, and sensitive enough to appreciate what’s being done to the environment in the name of ‘progress.’ It’s about a group of individuals who realize that, incrementally, little by little, human activity has led us all to a place in the history of the species where, conceivably, we are threatening ourselves with extinction, or something very close to it. More to the point, it’s also about railing against shortsightedness. It’s about raising consciousness to the extent that people are forced to take a hard, realistic look at themselves and their lifestyles, in spite of their complacency or their desire to stay ignorant. But it’s not about something that can be taken lightly.”
Whether in a religious context, under the onslaught of a bar room sports fanatic, or being bombarded by hard-driven political beliefs, Mitch had an instinctive aversion to an overzealous spiel of any kind. He could empathize with anyone who felt strongly about an issue of paramount importance, such as the environment, but evangelical fervor left him cold.
“I’m truly overwhelmed,” he said with a wry smile.
Lisa laughed. “I sometimes get on my soapbox,” she said, “and get carried away without even realizing it. But you get my point.”
“Sure I do. And it’s everything you say it is—human folly and stupidity leading us down a rabbit hole of madness. But you have to admit, it is risky. I mean, what if it backfires? Despite good intentions, what if it blows up in your face?”
“I’ll tell you what’s risky, Mitch,” she replied in a more even tone. “What’s risky is to carry on the way we have in the last two hundred and thirty years, since the inception of the Industrial Revolution. In those two hundred plus years, we’ve managed to befoul lakes, rivers, and streams, and now, it’s being discovered, the very oceans themselves. And that’s not to mention the air we breathe and all the forests that have been leveled for matchsticks and toilet paper. It’s insane, Mitch, and it can’t continue.”
He couldn’t deny any of it. He knew she was right. The physical evidence was too compelling. The melting of the glaciers, the rising level of acidity in the oceans, the depletion of the ozone layer, the diminution of air quality, the disappearance of species—it went on and on and on. One had only to read a daily newspaper, listen to the radio, or peruse a magazine to know the threat truly existed; even allowing for over-reaction, it could be, and had been, scientifically quantified. The doomsayers could be scoffed at, and perhaps to a certain extent deservedly so, but no one could dispute the consensus of opinion that had been building. Slowly but surely,
human activity had been leaving behind an oftentimes irrevocable and irretrievable path of destruction and disrepair; yet the phenomenon had been written and talked about enough so that Heidi’s methods seemed redundant, even counterproductive.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “It is insane—what we’re doing to the world we live in and many of us acting like we don’t even care. And you won’t meet a stronger advocate of the proposition. But, realistically—and you wanted the truth, Lisa—what’s Heidi got to offer? Enthusiasm, zealotry, obsession, a radical agenda? Yeah, sometimes that’s what it takes to get people’s attention, and maybe it’ll all succeed. But it’s not really my cup of tea. I guess I’m content to know that other people are addressing the problem. I’ll donate money…maybe write an article or two, but…”
Lisa leaned in close and took hold of his hands. “I’m not asking you to become a zealot, Mitch. I just want you to help us.”
“Like I said—”
“No. We need more than armchair assistance. We need more than lip service; we can get that anywhere, from practically anyone. What we want are people out there in the trenches, people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, maybe even a little bloody. This is a battle, Mitch, a fight for a good cause—for the only cause that matters—we want people who are ready to sign up.”
“Is that how you think of yourselves, as soldiers in the battle against ignorance and indifference?”
“It sounds exaggerated, I know,” she admitted with a laugh. “But stop and think about it—it is a war, just a different kind of war, so military terminology isn’t all that inappropriate.”
Mitch shook his head doubtfully.
“Maybe so,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s for me. I’m a writer and, as such, I’ve spent a lot of time on the sidelines, observing and taking notes on life in general. I’ve dabbled in one cause or another, but I’m not into standing up in front of an army tank, challenging its right to be there, or roosting in a treetop to thwart loggers. That’s the kind of thing you’re talking about, and, frankly, I’m just not that kind of animal. My predispositions point in other directions.”
“You don’t know what kind of animal you are until you get out there and do it, Mitch. Take me, for example…you think I’ve always been like this, wanting to aid and abet what amounts to criminal activity? You think I sprang into being, Athena-like, just as I am now? You think I woke up one morning and said, ‘Hey, I’ve just had a major epiphany…I’m going to go against everything I’ve been brought up to be and become an environmental revolutionary’? Not at all. It wasn’t like that, Mitch.
“For most of my life, I’ve been your typical rich girl. I’ve had just about everything anybody could want. I’ve summered in France since I was a kid, I’ve been to parties and dances all my life, I’ve had a car since I was old enough to drive, hung out at the yacht club, skied in Aspen and the Alps, and I’ve flown to New York for the weekend just to see a Broadway show. I’ve done most of it, Mitch, and I’ve had most of it. But you know what? One day I realized I didn’t have as much as I thought I had.
“I wasn’t raised in a religious environment, so nothing like that appealed to me. It wasn’t religion or a feeling of being connected to the Almighty that I was missing. But it was a feeling of being without a real purpose. As trite as it may sound, I needed something to fill the void. And, for better or worse, it turned out to be this. It turned out to be something so vitally important that I can’t imagine how it would not appeal to anyone. It wasn’t easy at first, because in the beginning I spent a lot of time embracing the idea—fortifying myself psychologically for something initially alien. But now, you know what?”
“What?”
“Now it’s second nature. Now I don’t have any doubts. What I’m doing is the right thing to do, and consequences be damned. I’m careful, of course, but I do what’s necessary.”
Mitch turned and gazed out the window.
With the promise of a bright, sunny day ahead, he could visualize how pleasant a stroll along the waterfront park would be. The two of them could walk hand in hand, unmindful of troubling concerns. Along the way, at the far end of the promenade, they might stop at one of the sidewalk cafes overlooking a widened stretch of the river, with the yacht club gleaming on the far side, and have breakfast, or at least a Danish and coffee. In the warmth of late-summer sunshine, he might feel that being with her was not so much about an agenda she had plotted out for them. He might feel less constrained by the program she had imposed on herself and wanted others to espouse with equal passion. He had hoped—and still hoped!—for something that trailed off into the sun-dappled, bosky regions of the heart and bespoke, with pools of limpid clarity, a timeless meaning.
“I don’t know, Lisa,” he said, looking at her. “I don’t know if I have the right stuff. And it isn’t a question of agreeing or disagreeing. The environment is a mess, or soon will be; I give you that in bunches. But—I was in the army once…I got out after three years, and I’ve never felt the urge to go back. I’m not cut out for the military life.”
As if to berate or scold a child, Lisa put a hand on each of Mitch’s bare shoulders; looking at him intently, she said, “Tell me something, Mitch…do you like what you see in front of you? I mean, as I’m sitting here in all my youthful splendor, do I look pretty good to you?”
He had known a blonde cheerleader in high school who epitomized every young boy’s masturbatory fantasy. In her white tennis shoes and a gold and brown pleated miniskirt that fell just below her panty line and revealed curvaceous thighs and calves, with bold green eyes and perfectly etched and combined facial features, she brought to mind nothing so much as a beacon of radiant, youthful beauty. With a Pepsodent smile and an engaging pertness, with her ability to charm and mesmerize, she quickened the heartbeat of any young male lucky enough to be in the same classroom or to have a chance to show off athletic prowess in front of her. All at the same time, she seemed ethereal and remote and yet approachable: a friendly, caring young woman, well aware of her gifts but not vain or conceited.
To put Lisa in the same physical category required little effort. In the intense, early-morning light, as she had traipsed into the bathroom, he had seen for himself the near perfection of her physique. Its proportions had rivaled any statue of the female body he had ever seen. The trim waistline was accentuated by the slight flaring of hips that curved past firmly molded, pear-shaped buttocks. Her calves and thighs had a female soccer player’s strength and development. And as she emerged from the bathroom and walked up to the bed, he had feasted his eyes on a pair of breasts tipped with darkly hued, carnelian nipples and plumped up like two small pillows.
“What do you think?” he whispered.
“And we had a pretty good time last night and this morning, too, didn’t we?”
He noted the soft loveliness of her face: the ineffable quality of beauty he saw framed by an abundance of brush-stroked chestnut hair flowing past her shoulders. He wanted to possess her, to be a part of her, and the smile emanating from her sunflower-blue eyes told him this was possible, but only on the condition that he give in to whatever she required of him. He was free to make any choice he wanted, but if he wanted her, it had to be the right choice.
“Yeah…we did.”
“And I enjoyed it, too, Mitch. And I want it to continue, and not only for the reason you might think. But I’ll tell you what…”
“What?”
“I come as part of a larger package. I’m not going to give what I have unless I get what I want in return. What I want is too important for me to give myself for nothing. I can give pleasure, even love, but I have my priorities. Do you understand, Mitch?”
He nodded.
“Good. Because otherwise it won’t work.”
She dropped her hands from his shoulders and looked at him as though waiting for one last, final answer: conclusive acceptance of her ultimatum.
“You believe that, don’t you, Mitch?”
&
nbsp; Again, he nodded.
As though to reward him for being good, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the mouth.
“Good. And I can do so much more for you than that, Mitch,” she said.
“You mean it gets better?”
She laughed. “Much better.”
“How so?”
“If you can write articles for us on global warming that express the views of the group, I’ll see that they get published. That would give you a nice little portfolio to help with your own efforts.”
“Is your dad a publisher or something?”
“He owns several trucking companies, but he knows lots of people. He’s the kind of person very useful to have in your Rolodex, especially if you happen to be his daughter’s friend.”
“Am I your friend?”
“Of course you are, silly.”
“I don’t see how I can lose.”
“I’ll see that that doesn’t happen, Mitch,” she said, getting up off the bed. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Maybe we can do something nice afterwards, like go out for breakfast…”
11
Save for a jetliner’s white contrail as it dissolved into segments, the afternoon sky shone radiant and clear. A light breeze, as though from whimsy, whirled a brown scrap of paper into the air, floated it off across a stretch of tarmac and into one of the empty airplane hangars, where it settled onto the dirt floor. A small bird flew overhead, alighted momentarily on the tin roof of another empty hangar, looked about inquisitively, then flew off.
Lisa glanced at her watch.
“He should be here by now, shouldn’t he?” Heidi asked.
“Yeah, you sure he’s coming?”
The Distant Echo of a Bright Sunny Day Page 9