The Call

by Yannick Murphy

  The

  A Novel

  YANNICK MURPHY

  NEW YORK • LONDON • TORONTO • SYDNEY • NEW DELHI • AUCKLAND

  Dedication

  FOR JEFF, THE BEST MAN, FATHER, AND VETERINARIAN I KNOW, AND FOR OUR CHILDREN, WHO TAKE AFTER HIM IN SO MANY GOOD WAYS.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Part One: Fall

  Part Two: Winter

  Part Three: Still Winter

  Part Four: Spring

  Summer

  About the Author

  Praise

  Other Works

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Fall

  CALL: A cow with her dead calf half-born.

  ACTION: Put on boots and pulled dead calf out while standing in a field full of mud.

  RESULT: Hind legs tore off from dead calf while I pulled. Head, forelegs, and torso are still inside the mother.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME WHILE PASSING RED AND GOLD LEAVES ON MAPLE TREES: Is there a nicer place to live?

  WHAT CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Hi, Pop.

  WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Something mixed-up.

  CALL: Old woman with minis needs bute paste.

  ACTION: Drove to old woman’s house, delivered bute paste. Pet minis. Learned their names—Molly, Netty, Sunny, and Storm.

  RESULT: Minis are really cute.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: Must bring children back here sometime to see the cute minis.

  WHAT CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Hi, Pop.

  WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Steak and potatoes, no salad. She said, David, our salad days are over, it now being autumn and the garden bare except for wind-tossed fallen leaves.

  CALL: Sick sheep.

  ACTION: Visited sheep. Noticed they’d eaten all the thistle.

  RESULT: Talked to owner, who is a composer, about classical music. Admired his tall barn beams. Advised owner to fence off thistle so sheep couldn’t eat it. Sheep become sick from thistle.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: Is time travel possible? Maybe time is not a thing. Because light takes a while to travel, what we’re seeing is always in the past.

  WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Breakfast.

  CALL: Castrate draft horse.

  ACTION: Pulled out emasculators, castrated draft horse.

  RESULT: Draft horse bled buckets. Pooled around his hooves. Owner said she had never seen so much blood. It’s okay, he’s got a lot of blood, I said. She nodded. She braided the fringe on her poncho, watching the blood.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: What’s the point of a poncho if it doesn’t cover your arms?

  WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Nut loaf.

  WHAT I ATE FOR DINNER: Not nut loaf.

  CALL: Horse is colicking.

  ACTION: Drove to farm dodging dry, brown leaves skating across the road because at first I thought they were mice or voles running to the safety of the other side. Gave horse Banamine. Watched him sweating. Watched him rolling on his stall floor. Watched owner cry. Just a few tears down a freckled cheek. Listened to horses in other stalls whinny, worried for the colicky horse.

  RESULT: Stayed for hours, until night. Moon was full. Walked horse out to field by the apple tree. Gave him a shot to put him to sleep. Patted his neck. Left owner with her head by his head, not saying anything. Maybe just breathing in his last exhaled breath.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: When I go I want to go in a field by an apple tree on a full-moon night.

  WHAT I SAW WHEN I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE: Bright lights in the sky, an object moving quickly back and forth. Not a plane.

  WHAT I HEARD FROM CHILDREN WHEN I GOT HOME: Gentle snoring.

  WHAT I HEARD FROM MY WIFE WHEN I GOT HOME: Loud snoring.

  CALL: Sheep with a cut from a fence.

  ACTION: Drove to farm. Inspected sheep. Cut was old. Small white worms were crawling on it. Gave owner some antibiotic.

  RESULT: Asked owner if he had seen the bright lights in the sky the night before. Owner shrugged. I go to bed, the owner said.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: Since people have become used to seeing telephone wires and telephone poles everywhere, they can get used to seeing wind turbines everywhere. It’s just a matter of getting used to something.

  CALL: Alpaca down.

  ACTION: Drove to farm. Remembered not to look alpaca in the eye.

  RESULT: Looked alpaca in the eye by mistake. Got spit in the eye. Alpaca nice and angry now. Alpaca got up. Owner thankful. Handed me a rag that smelled like gasoline. I wiped my eye. Asked owner if he had seen the bright lights, the object moving back and forth in the sky the night before. The owner shook his head, he hadn’t seen anything. The alpaca came to me and put his face in my face. I thought he was going to spit in my eye again, but he didn’t. The owner laughed, looks like he’s trying to tell you something, the owner said. Did the alpaca want to tell me he had seen the object in the sky?

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: I could have been an engineer or a fighter pilot.

  CALL: A prepurchase examination on a Thoroughbred.

  ACTION: Brought digital X-ray machine and performed a complete set of X-rays on horse in a barn with ducks, spaniels, and kittens walking about.

  RESULT: Owner tried to give me a kitten to take home to the children. No, no, I said. We have two dogs. The dogs will love the cat, the owner said. How about a duck? the owner said. No, they shit liquid, I said. Yes, that’s true, she said, but the eggs are golden.

  THOUGHTS ON RIDE HOME: Chickens might be nice to have. The children could check for eggs every day. We could eat the eggs. Chickens don’t shit liquid. This is the problem today, people don’t know where their food comes from. My children will know where their food comes from.

  CALL: A sheep needs its shots.

  ACTION: Took bottles of vaccines and drew up shots.

  RESULT: Old woman named Dorothy called the sheep to her. The sheep’s name was Alice. Alice lived in the house with Dorothy. I’d let her live outside, but she’s no bother inside, Dorothy said. Alice lay her head in Dorothy’s lap. Go on, give the shot, Dorothy said. The sheep was very still while I gave the shot. She is like a dog, Dorothy said. I take her everywhere in my pickup. She waits for me until I get back from my errands. I took her into church one day. I showed the pastor. He made a remark about sheep. He said they were dumb. Go get Alice from the back of your pickup, my friend said, nudging me. I went to the parking lot and got Alice. I held the church doors open for her. She followed me down the aisle. She looked into people’s faces as she walked. I’d like you to meet Alice, I said to the pastor. She looked him in the eyes. Now go on, I said. Read the part again in your sermon about how sheep are dumb, I said.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: I know some people who will not look me in the eye.

  WHAT I SAW WHEN I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE: The object flying in the sky again. It seemed to circle the house. More likely it was a drone the military used and remotely practiced with in our secluded woods, but still I could not help but think it was other-worldly, the way its lights flashed on and off, the way it flew so low, as if it wanted to see in our windows and check on what my family was doing. I felt that it knew me somehow.

  WHAT I FELT EVEN BEFORE I WALKED IN THE DOOR: Warm. Even though it was cold outside, I already began to feel warm as I stepped onto the porch where the glass front door always seemed to be constantly steamed over from the exhaled breaths of my wife, my children, the dogs, and all the other creatures inside.

  WHAT CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Doesn’t Alice pee and poop on the floor in the house?

  WHAT I SAID: I suppose she does.

  WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER:
Omelets with green olives.

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID: David, I don’t want a sheep.

  CALL: A cat.

  ACTION: I told owner I don’t do cats. The owner asked if I could do this one. The owner had shot the fisher-cats in his barn that had eaten half his chickens. Shoot the cat, I said, you have shot fisher-cats. You have done huge horses, why can’t you just do a little house cat whose time has come? the owner said.

  RESULT: I did the cat in the belly. I did not need to find a vein. I was paid in sausage and bacon.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: This war we are in is a war we started to see how much we can take from another country. It was once not so easy for me to see it this way.

  WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Mom is not making dinner. Mom is sick on the couch.

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: David, where’s the gun? If you just shoot this side of my head, I’m sure it will get rid of my headache. Then Jen laid her head back on the easy chair where the sun was streaming in and the bright light on her face made her look porcelain-white.

  WHAT I COOKED FOR DINNER: Bacon. Glorious fresh bacon given to me by the man who shot fisher-cats, not house cats. I showed my children how the bacon did not release injected water into the pan while it cooked because it was fresh bacon, good bacon. Bacon the way bacon should be.

  THOUGHTS WHILE TURNING BACON: Why is it legal to inject meats with water? Why is it fair that the consumer has to pay extra money, per pound, for injected water?

  WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID: Pop, don’t burn the bacon.

  WHAT THE WIND SAID AT NIGHT: I can blow down all your trees. I can make the walls of your house fall in.

  WHAT THE MORNING SAID: I kept the wind at bay.

  THOUGHTS WHILE SHOWERING: Deer season will be here soon. Already it is bear. We have heard the hunters and their bear dogs early on the weekend mornings barking, treeing bears. I will hunt first with a bow for deer this fall season. I will sit high up in a tree in a purchased stand that came with big labels telling me never to use it without wearing a safety harness. I will wear the safety harness. I will check it before I put it on. Are the straps worn? Is the buckle fastened securely? Are the deer gods on my side?

  WHAT MY SON SAID AT DINNER: Aren’t I hunting with you this fall? He had not hunted with me before, this would be his first time. He was twelve years old now and old enough to carry a gun. He knew the rules well. He had aced his hunter’s exam. Gun tip pointed up or down when walking through the woods, never shoot at an animal on a hill, because you never know who might be on the other side of the hill, open your chamber when passing your gun to someone and say, “action open, safety on” while you’re passing it.

  WHAT I SAID: Yes, I suppose you’re ready to hunt with me now.

  WHAT MY SON SAID: Yes! I can’t wait! and then he chanted, Kill the deer. Eat the meat! Kill the deer. Eat the meat! in time with holding his fork in his fist and banging his fist on the table, making me think maybe we should wait. Maybe he wasn’t ready to take a gun into the woods.

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID TO ME: Be careful hunting, David. I don’t like it. He’s still so young. You only have one son, you know.

  WHAT I THOUGHT: Maybe Jen is wrong, maybe there are other sons I have. Who knows if the sperm I once donated in college was ever used or simply thrown away after time? The money I received was spent on taking dates to restaurants I wouldn’t otherwise have been able to afford.

  WHAT I WOULD NEVER TELL THE WIFE: That maybe she was wrong about me not having other sons, because if I told her then I would have to explain why I wanted the money. I would have to explain the other girls, and no matter that I didn’t know Jen then, she might become jealous.

  WHAT I SAID TO THE WIFE INSTEAD TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT: Did you know that because light takes time to travel, what you’re seeing is always in the past?

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID: I like that, it’s the world’s best excuse. The adage “Don’t cry over spilt milk” applies to everything then. It’s all in the past, there’s nothing we can change.

  WHAT I THOUGHT: That I could tell Jen not to cry over spilt milk if ever she learned of how I had earned extra money in college and that somewhere in there was a pun she’d pick up on, the spilt milk of me somehow worked in.

  CALL: No call. The phone rang and when I answered, whoever it was hung up. Hello, hello, I said and I kept saying hello even after I knew they were gone.

  WHAT WE DID AFTER DINNER: Put on sweaters to keep off the chill and went outside and called to the owls.

  WHAT THE OWLS DID: Called back and then the spacecraft showed up again, its lights blinking faster than the last time, as if it were trying to sing out its own kind of call.

  CALL: A choke.

  ACTION: Touched the horse’s neck. I could feel the ball of food caught in his throat. This could be a tough one, I told Arthur, the hired hand. I gave the horse drugs to relax his throat muscles. I went to fill up buckets. I would need the water to pump through his stomach. I would need to clear the choke. I put the tube through the horse’s nose. I asked Arthur, while I was working on the horse, if he had seen the object in the sky, if he had seen the bright lights a few nights before. Arthur, with one hand resting on the horse’s neck, looked up at the sky, as if the object I had been talking about could still be seen in all the blue. Arthur shook his head. No, didn’t see it, he said. I wasn’t out here. Only thing out here were the horses, Arthur said. You see it, Boss? he said into the ear of the horse I was working on, and while he said it he had the flat of his palm on the neck of the horse and I thought how maybe Arthur wasn’t doing the talking, that maybe it was the horse doing the talking for him.

  A flock of geese came flying down to the pond. Arthur and I watched the geese, their feet out in a pose to brake, their wings not beating, coming down on water flat as glass on a windless day. Who knew geese could walk on water? Arthur said, his hand still on the horse.

  RESULT: The drug worked quickly. The water went straight down. The choke had passed. I told Arthur that was good, otherwise we could have been there a long time and he would have heard my whole life story and I his.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: What was Arthur’s life story? Did he ever have a wife? Kids? What was my life story?

  THIS IS WHAT I WANT ON MY TOMBSTONE: He loved his children.

  WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID WHEN I GOT HOME: Pop, Mom’s in one of her moods.

  WHAT THE WIFE WAS DOING: Unloading the dishwasher, but doing it by slamming the pots onto their shelves.

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID: Can’t anyone else help to do this? Jen motioned with her arm, taking in the kitchen, the messy countertops, the food bits on the floor, pieces of carrots dried and turned white kicked up under the shelves. The books and papers on the table, the loud toy guns, the fishing reels needing line.

  WHAT THE CHILDREN DID: Ran outside.

  WHAT I DID: Ran outside.

  WHAT THE CHILDREN DID: Climbed me.

  WHAT I SMELLED: Their hair, a sweet smell and also an outdoors smell, the smell of fall’s fallen leaves kicked up.

  CALL: No call.

  ACTION: Stayed at home.

  RESULT: Wished the children were home with me, resented school for taking them away and teaching them nothing. They would learn more at home with me. I would teach them things I want to learn. Violin, German, the possibility of time travel.

  THOUGHTS WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE WOODS LOOKING FOR SPOTS TO RAISE DEER STAND: When shooting the rifle, make sure the deer is moving, otherwise he will notice the safety releasing, he will bolt before you squeeze off the shot. Will I even see a buck this year?

  WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Pop, there was a moose in the back of the house!

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID: A cow, not a bull.

  WHAT I SAID: Everybody, let’s go for a walk and see if we can see her again.

  WHAT WE CAME ACROSS: Moose poop. Bear poop. Deer poop. Coyote poop. Fallen over rotting mushrooms that looked like loose poop.

  WHAT I POINTE
D OUT TO MY SON: The barks of trees rubbed off by the antlers of deer. Flattened ferns where deer had lain.

  WHAT SAM SAID: I cannot wait to hunt, the deer are all around us!

  WHAT WE DID: Put our hands down on the flattened ferns to see if they were still warm and then we walked back home, avoiding breaking spanning cobwebs in our way.

  WHAT THE WIFE COOKED FOR DINNER: Spaghetti with meat sauce, black olives, and mushrooms.

  WHAT MIA, MY YOUNGEST, MY SIX-YEAR-OLD, SAID TO ME BEFORE BEDTIME: Poppy, I’m going to cold you up. Then she reached her cold hands up under my shirt and touched my back.

  WHAT SAM, MY OLDEST, MY TWELVE-YEAR-OLD, SHOWED ME BEFORE BEDTIME: How to exhale when squeezing off a shot to avoid excessive movement and achieve the truest aim.

  WHAT SARAH, THE MIDDLE CHILD, MY TEN-YEAR-OLD, SAID TO ME: Lyle got detention for throwing a pencil at Miss Ackerman when she turned her back.

  WHAT THE OWLS SAID AT NIGHT: We are in every tree in a five-mile radius.

  WHAT THE WIFE SAID IN BED WHILE THE LIGHT OF THE FULL MOON CAME IN THROUGH THE WINDOW: Somebody turn off that light.

  CALL: A Dutch Warmblood needs teeth floated.

  ACTION: Went to farm where horse is stabled. Brought out floats. Tried floating teeth without giving a drug to the horse. Horse clearly needed drug. Drew up shot, injected horse.

  RESULT: Was able to float horse’s teeth, but the woman who owned the horse could talk a dog off a meat wagon, and I had to listen to her. Funny how the horses like their teeth floated. Grinding down the back hooks, this horse closed his eyes; if he could purr he would. My arm was sore afterward, was the woman’s mouth tired? She talked of gardens and nematodes and the forecasts of the Farmer’s Almanac.

  THOUGHTS ON DRIVE HOME: This is where the horses live, in cozy barns, the pastures here still green, a heron flies across, the cows all standing north to south, the attraction of the poles said to be the reason for their alignment.

  WHAT THE CHILDREN SAID TO ME WHEN I GOT HOME: Pop, you smell like horse manure, and what’s that on your upper arm?