The Man Game (58 page)

To which she replied with a firm: Hm.

They did not speak or make eye contact. There was enough noise from the other chambers and the parlour on the main floor that it was impossible to ignore how alone they were. Every time Mrs. Litz moved, he moved, and then, seeing that she'd only recognized the cries of a friend, both resisted any further movement. When at last Peggy arrived to see them seated in her bedroom she cried out in joy, and without hesitation went to Mrs. Litz and embraced her. Litz blushed, his neck went moist, and he scratched around his collar and turned on his seat so he wouldn't have to watch.

You sweet thing, said Peggy. How I missed you. You're as lovely today as the day I set eyes on you. No wonder Litz keeps you to himself, what a pinnacle a beauty you are. Look at her, eh. Oh, I miss seeing your face, I do, I do. Come here, let me give you another kiss, my heart is beating so fast. It's my old
tendency. Never feel safe aboot my girls unless they're under my roof. And why do you look so sad? It's the only thing aboot you I see that's different. Girl, you can talk to me. Don't start to cry. Look at her, Litz, this is sorrow on her face, sorrow as genuine and beautiful as a flower in the shade. But tell me, my girl, where's this sorrow's stem?

Mrs. Litz was unable to stop crying so Peggy shooed Litz from his place and sat his wife down beside her on the chaise. She pushed Mrs. Litz's head into her bosoms, shushing her sobs, combing her fingers through his wife's black hair. She cooed in motherly tones. All the while she stared at him, up and down twice over, with stern disappointment.

You don't stand when a lady walks into a room? Peggy said to him crossly. Come now. Where's your manners. How are you, Litz?

I'm sorry, he said, and continued to back away until he found a comfortable corner in the dark.

Now please, someone tell me what's the matter, said Peggy.

Mrs. Litz looked up with that same look of fright Litz recognized from their walk through the woods. Her gaze was fixed on the other door in Peggy's room, the door that led to The Whore Without A Face. I must see my sister, she said.

Naturally, dear, whenever you like, said Peggy, a course you can, my sweet. She's very well, asks aboot you often, I always say you're stronger than ever.

You did, said Mrs. Litz, wiping the tears off her long eyelashes with her wrists, trying to compose herself.

But your sister, that's the cause a these tears, no?

He keep me in a prison, she said, quietly, maybe with less confidence, thought Litz, as if the memory of those days had changed along with her.

I see now what happened, Peggy said, looking at him. I had no idea, Litz. Didn't you see this little biscuit was crumbling? Oh, look at my dear, dear girl. You were scared out there, weren't you? Yes, all those months … I had
no
idea.

Miss you, too, Peggy, she said.

I missed
you
. We all did, baby. But I see now. You paid the biggest price in this whole debacle around the …, she faltered intelligently, looked to Litz, who was pleading with his eyes for her not to mention the game, so she did not, …
Fire
, Peggy said, and who did
what
to
who
with a … donkey engine,
what
ever. Bores me to sleep. Oh, but sweetheart, you mustn't put all the blame on Litz here. Alls I know is Litz here, he and Pisk worked their tails off these months to get your home back to you. Believe me, I saw what these bohunks did, eh, and no one else would dare do the same under the circumstances unless …, and there Peggy faltered again. She was finding it difficult to avoid the subject of the man game, which she obviously realized would do more damage to her girl than to sheepish Litz in the shadows. To regain her sense of control, she checked her face in the vanity, pursing her lips and studying her profile.

Mrs. Litz kept her head hung down. Litz hoped and waited for her to meet his gaze, but she didn't, wouldn't. When she moved it was only to embrace Peggy again.

Might a guessed eight months is too long for such a delicate sweet morsel to be kept from her family, said Peggy.

I do love her, said Litz, and trying to keep the words in the air as long as possible, he waited without breathing, and then, failing to get any response, his throat dried up so badly he started to cough. There'd been a day not long ago when his voice made her cling to him. When he was still a lumberjack and he and Pisk would come home after work, sometimes after stretches as long as six-eight weeks, they were usually pretty rowdy, and as they approached the house she'd hear him and would rush to meet him when she heard his voice. And Mrs. Litz has excellent hearing, and Vancouver was a much quieter place back then, and so she'd run to meet Litz who was sometimes a mile-two miles away, and they'd see or hear her coming. Litz would be well and ready for her by the time she got to him. He'd put down his axe. Pisk would even back off, give them space not to embarrass themselves, sometimes walking past her as she ran to her new husband and pressed
herself against his chest with her arms clenched against her breasts. He embraced her, his arms looped tightly around her. He her cocoon. Inside his arms. Calling to him: Tight. Tighter. And he, squeezing her with as much tenderness as he could without breaking her, until her giggling started to wheeze up. Then he'd release her, blissed and gasping for air, letting herself fall back close to fainting so that he must catch her, swing her to and fro at the wrists. He remembered times like those. They'd met only two years ago, a couple doors down from this room.

He wiped his eyes.

Peggy took his wife's hand, guided her to the door, and with a key tied to a ribbon on her waist, unlocked it. As the door swung open Litz could see her there in the dusty unlit room seated on the bed with her legs crossed to one side under a nightgown. The black hood over her head turned to the sound of the door hinges, silken cowl to disguise The Whore Without A Face, and Mrs. Litz cried at the sight of her and ran to embrace her sister. Peggy shut the door and locked it again.

Let them talk awhile. How are you, Litz? Why don't you fix a drink? You look like you been to see a nun. I swear I should knock you out the door on your heels for making that face at me. How's Pisk doing, he o-kay?

Healing, said Litz.

People got bad luck around you, Litz. Boys in town think he's knocked off completely.

Well, he's not.

My advice to you then is to dispel that rumour. I don't know for how much longer this town is going to stay so bored. All eyes are on you, Litz. You and Pisk. If Pisk is gone … your wife here … there's nothing to say you can't still go.

What, up and leave the city?

She prowled around the room, adjusting trinkets, and said: Shame doesn't travel with you. The steam engine hasn't managed that yet. You're a good man, Litz, but at least if you don't have brains, you got to know when to move on. That's
the nature a man, the kind a man you are. You roam like dogs, all you men in this town.

Litz stood up. He reasoned with himself that if he walked towards her at his full height, width, and breadth it would show her he wasn't afraid of her and she would quit giving advice. So he got in close to Peggy, and it was almost as if he was going to put his hands on her hips and kiss her. She leaned back onto the table and propped herself up with one arm and stuck her chin in his face. Her neck was perfumed by estrus and extract of damiana. Blood rushing all of a sudden to his extremities, Litz had a bone to pick with the madam's opinion. He said: Listen, Peggy, I never wanted to
hurt
her. My own wife. I love her like the moonlight. But I couldn't let her go to town, my own wife. If I did her wrong, you know what the people in town here would do. Think a what guys around here are capable a. Much worse than being stuck in the forest behind huge thickets a blackberry bush. Much worse shit could a happen to her if I let her go.

Didn't you see her? How could you say no to that face?

I'm trying to
tell
you.

I just love the dear thing so much. I hope you won't expect her to come home with you again tonight, to that horrible cave you call a home. She won't want to.

Why not? I saved her from you.

Please, said Peggy, with a knowing, catlike smile, you can't save her. You don't know the half.

I'm her husband, said Litz firmly; then he looked at his mucked boots and petted his moustache instead of confronting the freezing glare of her eyes. Chewing the inside of his lip, he said: What do you expect me to do? Me and Pisk are woodsmen exiles. You know how different things are since the Fire. This year's different in every way. Guys around here get bored real fast like you say. If we didn't make this happen, we'd already be gone.

She doesn't know, does she?

Aboot the man game, no. There weren't any choice in the matter. I kept her behind the blackberry bushes because a the situation. I want the same as you, Peggy, for her to be safe.

Litz throated two fingers of decanted whisky then poured two fingers more and held the tumbler swishing before him. He looked at it for a long time, then said: Clough told us aboot the tunnels.

I heard, said Peggy. Good thing, too, she added. You infuriated RH so badly, he called in a favour to the mayor. On top a Furry and Daggett now you got the po-lice watching you.

Something cracked in her voice, like a flowerbud between sheets of ice. He felt the temperature in the room rise again, so he feigned a look at her. In fact, she wasn't paying attention to him anymore. She was studying herself in the mirror. Taking obvious pleasure in smoothing the filmy silk scarf that lay across her voluptuous bosoms, she asked his reflection in her vanity: What makes a good player, Litz?

He gave the question some thought. A good memory, he said. Like a bear trap. You got to remember how a man moves so you can set yourself up to catch him out. It's not even memory you store in your dome, it's in your fingers and knees.

When will you play again, sweetheart?

Soon, I hope. I don't think we'll stay where we are for much longer.

You say Pisk's healing.

The stumps aren't much to look at, but he's on crutches, so.

Litz took a final swig. He contemplated pouring another double, did, and said: Even Molly was worried. Not me. But I seen him in the woods every day so I know what he's capable a. For instance he sliced his hand open one time with a cablewire that got loose on him. Split wide open. Blood everywhichway. Alls he did was wrap his shirt around it. Next morning at breakfast we look at the wound and alls there is is a scab. Next day there's nothing to see at all. Healed up completely. Not a scar. When I saw the toes come off I wasn't thinking, Will he die? I was thinking, When are they going to fucking grow back?

He drank. He relished this mouthful more than necessary. She told him he'd had enough and he knew she was right so he poured one more. He heard the occasional murmuring voices. He knew it was the sound of his wife and her sister in the other room. After that, he put the cut-glass tumbler back down on the silver tray and stood there fuming, wanting to defile her. But she might as well have been pointing a pistol at him for how impossibly foolish he knew it would be to make a move.

It'll be so much better now, said Litz, now that we feel safer to tread in Vancouver. Wouldn't you figure that sentiment in the city is on our side?

Me? said Peggy, facing her vanity, reapplying the paint to her lips and eyes, touching up her hair, turning her head from side to side, and massaging her neck with cream, all very passively. When he wasn't aware, she watched him in the mirror as he grew more agitated.

Yes, what do you figure? If men saw me escort my wife into town, what would people do? Litz shook his head. The old whorehouse itches were back. This time they started in his wrists and itched up to his armpits and finally his neck, and he clawed at himself as he spoke. Neither you or me is any good for this beautiful girl, and we both know it. I got to get her out a here.

You don't remember the last time you were sober—, said Peggy, but there was a knock at the door just then, and they both waited.

They heard a voice on the other side: Darling, it's your old burgundy banana. Let me in.

As the man rattled the ceramic door handle, Peggy hissed to Litz: It's RH, you must
hide
, quick, and then called to RH Alexander, I'll be right there, dear.

Litz found himself crammed into her oversized custommade wardrobe with all her dresses and slips, forced to stand in a very awkward position as RH Alexander, the man who'd fired him nearly a year ago, moved swiftly into the room and took Peggy in his arms and kissed her full on the lips.

I missed you, said RH, wetly.

I missed you, too, said Peggy, no less sincerely than she'd sounded when she said it to Litz's wife. You look distressed, my sweet.

Yes, I am, said RH.

Whatever's the matter, dear, is there anything I can do?