The Woman Who Married a Cloud: The Collected Short Stories (10 page)

“Hey, don’t you remember?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Remember what? Beenie, have I really been so bad? Such a total failure?”

“I’m not talking about that. Don’t you remember your glass?” I looked at it and saw a glass. So what? “So what?”

“Don’t you remember these glasses?”

I looked again. “No.”

“Christmas 1975. Norah wanted to be special and have cocktails before dinner, so you told her to fill up these glasses with fruit juice for all of you.”

“And we threw them in the fireplace after we were finished. I did it first. Even Gerald. He watched what we did, and threw his, too. They were expensive glasses. Roberta was furious, but ended up throwing hers, too. That was lovely. We felt Russian.”

“There’s been a lot of nice in your life. No, you’re not such a bad man. You’ve been bad, but you’re not bad. Annette just picked moments. It’s easy to do that when you’re talking about fifty years of moments. She’s very bad. Very angry and messed up.”

“What do I do now, Beenie? How do I win with her?”

“You can’t. That’s the problem. I thought—”

The study door crashed open, and Annette stood there, a hand out in front of her, pointing. “I don’t care what you say. I’ve waited
years
for this.” She started across the room for me. I didn’t even have a chance to wonder what would happen, much less get up and run away, because behind her were things. Not ogres and monsters, grave things, but
my
things. Things I would know only because she had brought my life with her. Only, they came as vapours, colours, smells, sounds, lights, darks, forms, hints ... My life stood seething behind her, ready to pounce, ready to kill me with its fatal truth. Life through Gerald’s eyes, my daughter in a toilet stall, things I already knew and hated or ignored. Things I didn’t know, but people knew about me. Lies others had believed. Truths people said, but no one believed. Things I’d longed for, but knew would never happen. Lies I’d told myself, truths that cut deep, realizations sharp and bitter or fresh as air across ice. All of them, all of their energy and force. We think these things go away with time, like mist on an early-morning field; the sun comes up, and it burns the mist away.

But it doesn’t. Because I caught a glimpse of it, alive and full of power, I tell you it does
not
go away. Like any sound ever made, the truth of our lives remains. It is still there somewhere, forever, no matter what our memory tries to do to it.

If I’d been exposed to it longer, I’d’ve died. As it was, I saw enough in seconds to scald my soul the rest of my life. If I’m not mistaken, in there amongst the other facts and certainties was how long the rest of my life would
be.

“Annette!” Beenie whipped an arm down as though she were pitching a baseball. The girl and what was behind her disappeared at once. Beenie made fists, held them up, and shook them at the ceiling. “Again, again, again. Why again? What is going
on
!”

It was not my place to ask questions at that point, so I kept quiet. Quiet and shaken. Beenie shook her fists a long time, then slowly let them fall. “I’m sorry, Scott.”

“Sorry? You saved me!”

“No, I used you.” She came over and sat down next to me on the floor. Before she spoke, she balled her hands again and asked, “Why is this
happening
?

“Scott, remember when I told you about the thirty-six people who make up God? At least that part is true. And the other part is, I really am one of them, dumb as I am. The lying begins with you and Annette. Remember when I said I’ve been watching you for years? Well, that’s true, too, but not for the reasons I said.

“Years ago, when she was a senior in college, I saw Annette and knew
she
was the one to replace me in the thirty-six. I’m sorry I said it was you; I lied.” She reached over and took my hand, gave it a squeeze, and let go. “It was never you—it was Annette. I knew it the minute I saw her, and have been following her ever since. Just like when Nolan saw me.

“So I told her, and, amazingly enough, she seemed to understand. In the beginning, everything was fine, and the first tests she had, she went right through with no problem. Then she went to graduate school and took your class. She wrote that novel, asked you to read it, and you know the rest.”

“She killed herself.” It took an instant to crystallize in my mind. “
Killed
herself? One of the thirty-six
killed
themselves? How is that possible? God doesn’t—”

“No, He doesn’t, and that’s our problem. We don’t understand, either. What’s worse, it’s happening more than you would think. Once in a while in the past, there’d be a mistake, and something like this would happen—but it was so rare, we paid no attention. But now something’s gone very wrong, and it’s happening more than ever. We have to find out why. So me and a couple of others were told to get these people and bring them back. Try to find out why they did it, or at least make peace with what caused them to do it. Maybe that way we’ll begin to figure out ... She grimaced, sighed. “Because, you see, they can’t be replaced if they do this to themselves—”

“People
chosen
to be God, people who know that and
understand
what that means still kill themselves?!”

“Yup.”

“ ‘Yup’? That’s all—‘Yup’? What does it mean? What does it say about the future? There’s got to be someone to replace Annette.”

“No one. She didn’t choose anyone. She hadn’t even finished taking the tests. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I brought her back to see you. We don’t know.”

“What do you mean? You know everything, damn it! You’re IT! And if God is diminished, if there are fewer of you, then good is diminished, too!”

“That’s right. That’s why more and more is falling apart. That’s why it’s so bad here.”

“And Beenie, what am I supposed to do now? I’m not one of your chosen, OK, I don’t deserve to be, but what do I do with all this knowledge? What am I supposed to do now that I know it? Please take it away. Just do that—move a hand like you did and clear it out of my head. Just do that one thing for me.”

“You don’t want that, Scott. You’re the only one who owns your experiences. Now that you know the truth about them, use it to try and make yourself better. That’s the best thing to do with it. Sure, I can wave it away, abracadabra, but you have the potential to be a much better person now that you know who you really are.”

“Fate’s not determined? But I saw when I was going to die!”

“That’s only time on the clock. I’m talking human time. How long does it take to write a book? For some, it’s fast; for others, slow. However long it takes to get down those sentences of the heart, eh? I can’t show you the book you’ll write, Scott. I can only help you do research and verify your sources.”

Despite everything, a smile popped on to my face. “
Verify
?”

“Yeah, I’ve been studying my vocabulary to keep up with you.”

“You ... and your people haven’t decided the future already?”

She shook her head no. God shook no. It was as simple as that.

T
HE DOGS HAD BEEN
gone almost three days when she called. “I’m in Phoenix.”

“The dogs aren’t back yet.”

“They
aren’t
? God, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you worried?”

He licked his lips and looked at a small cut on his finger before answering. “Not yet. They ran away once before, but it wasn’t winter. It’s pretty cold here. I keep wondering where they’re sleeping or getting food.”

The phone against his ear was loud with her silence. He knew she was trying to think of something reassuring to say, but somewhere in his heart he resented her not knowing exactly what to say immediately.

“I should be back at the end of the week. We’ve decided to cancel the Colorado thing because I’m too tired.”

“Good. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Are you okay?”

“Yes, but I wish the dogs would come back, you know?” That phrase—
the dogs
—had taken on a special significance.

“They will. They love you too much to run away.”

“If they’re dead I’d want to know about it.”

He’d said the big word and now it lay between them huge and stinking, heavy as the world.

“They’re not
dead.
They’re dogs. They’re having an adventure. They’ll come home happy and embarrassed. They’ll sleep for three days and have great stories to tell.” She wanted to make him smile. It didn’t work.

“Yes, but they’ve been gone three days.” It sounded too much like a child’s whine, but he had only said the truth. Three days was longer than they had ever been gone before.

“I’ll be home at the end of the week,” she said and then she was gone.

After hanging up he went out onto the back porch and whistled for them again. Sometimes he was sure they were within earshot but now he thought of them miles away. The cat, which had brought a half-dead mouse into the house earlier, stood beside him and began walking slowly back and forth between his legs.

“Where’s your mouse? Did you eat it?”

It paid no attention to him and continued its figure eight around and through his legs.

“She’ll be back at the end of the week.”

While watching television, every noise he heard outside sounded like the dogs when they came up on the porch right before scratching on the door to be let in. After a while he had to stop himself from getting up to check. He knew the sounds they made and knew each time he heard something that it wasn’t really them.

There wasn’t anything on television and he didn’t feel like working. He wanted the dogs to come back. He wanted the dogs to come back even more now than he wanted her to come back. It was a ridiculous thing to admit but he knew it was true.

The snow had drifted up against the southern side of the house when he went out on the porch again. His TV show was over and he couldn’t decide on whether or not to go to bed. On sudden impulse, he decided to go for a walk. Delighted for the first time in several days to have something he really wanted to do, he went quickly back inside for his sweater, socks, boots, coat.

The long heavy flashlight was on top of the kitchen counter and he chose to take it at the last minute. If the dogs had been there they would have been running around with joy once they saw him pulling on his boots. He smiled to think how accustomed the three of them were to each other’s habits. The dogs knew the difference between the command “get in the car” and “wanna eat?” although they showed exactly the same joyous reaction to both. He had tried luring them home by shouting these questions across these cold winter nights. It made him feel vaguely guilty knowing that if they had come back then, he wouldn’t have fed or taken them anywhere. They would have to be disciplined for running away. When she was there and the dogs took off, she chided him about what to do whenever they came back.

“Why are you scolding them? They don’t think they did anything wrong. They’re just happy to see you. Why not give them something to eat?”

“Because they have to learn it’s wrong.”

He found their bodies at the bottom of the hill, this side of the small brook that ran through the property. The mutt lay with its legs stretched out in a running position. Its tongue was hard and cold when he touched it.

The black and tan coonhound looked like it was sleeping. Its legs were curled under, but when he came close he saw that its eyes were open.

The next morning he called Oberkramer up the hill and told him what had happened.

The old man didn’t sound surprised. “I told you that sort of thing happens out here in the country all the time. I told you when you let them dogs run free like that things can happen.”

“But they look all right—their bodies aren’t cut or anything.”

“Could have been anything—Poison maybe. That would be my guess. Some sons of bitches out here like nothing more than to feed a dog a piece of poisoned meat and watch what happens. Now it’s Wednesday, right? I’d suggest you leave the bodies where they are till Friday, then put them out there with the rest of your trash for the garbage man to pick up. I did that once with a puppy we had that died. The guy saw it in the can and raised holy hell, but I said it was garbage, right? And he had to take it.”

He knew Oberkramer had liked his dogs very much, so his suggestion to put them out with the garbage was even more shocking. Nevertheless he did nothing about the dogs’ bodies for the next two days. In his mind he kept bringing back images of the moment he discovered them: their positions, the frightening coldness of the tongue, the darkness of their bodies against the moon-reflecting silver gray of the snow. Several times he went out on the porch and looked down the hill, half-hoping he would be able to see them. Even through the bare trees, it was impossible to see that far. But he knew they were there and knew he had done nothing about them. It was a betrayal. Not caring for them now was a betrayal of their long friendship. He hated himself for that but for the moment honestly couldn’t decide what to do about it.

He knew something would have to be done before she returned. He knew something would have to be done anyway because he couldn’t very well leave those bodies out there for the rest of the winter. He wished he were a child again. Then someone else would have to take responsibility for him.

The third morning after the discovery he woke both furious with himself and fully aware today was Friday, garbage day. If he were going to put them out he would have to do it before noon when the truck came. Still angry at his indecision, he ordered himself to act. Put the bodies out with the trash. Or bury them right now, this morning. Stop thinking about it. Do
something.

After finishing his second cup of coffee, he clapped his hands together, sighed loudly and got up. As if the dogs were still there and he was going somewhere in the car without them, he said to the empty house “I’m sorry” and went to the closet for his coat.

The morning was clear and cold. The wind instantly cut hard across his cheeks. He smiled on realizing how childishly proud of himself he was for having made a decision. With a shovel in his hand, he took large confident steps down the hill. He had decided he would try to scoop up both bodies at the same time so he wouldn’t have to make two trips. One would be difficult enough. The idea of two of them stacked one on top of the other was oddly reassuring. He would do the mutt first because she had been with him the longest.