time, unaware that her daughter had died,
almost died
, Liberty forced herself to recall, for her mother’s hobby had then been to tie herself to a canoe and float down a quiet river, gazing through her face mask into the crystalline depths, collecting the white bones of mastodons.
River
, Liberty thought, and imagined a stream so clear that it reflected the sky and everything growing and moving along its banks. So that drifting down it, on it, in it, she passed through the images of things. There was something repulsive about such a river. Floating in such a river, Liberty felt only the desire to get out …
She had promised Teddy they would go to the beach that day. It was almost noon and Teddy would be back at noon, fresh from instruction in something. She and Clem walked down Suntan toward his house. The day’s heat pressed againstthe crown of trees. A few old people moved quietly around, sweeping their yards with brooms, pinching off dead blossoms, sprinkling with big, old-fashioned watering cans. Duane’s perfect Mustangs adorned his driveway. They were black, red, white, black; a Fastback, two convertibles and a Shelby. The black Shelby had NIGHT MARE in script upon the trunk.
A large picture window exposed Janiella doing exercises in Duane’s trophy room. There were silver cups from rallies and car shows on the shelves, and on the paneled walls were the heads and hooves of deer and the bodies of fish. Liberty watched as Janiella did the Plough, the Cobra and a lengthy headstand. Snook and bass and baby tarpon gazed absently down upon Janiella as she moved on to alternate nostril breathing. With a finger pressed against her nose, her shut eyes snapped open and locked on Liberty’s. She got to her feet and sauntered to the door. Her blonde hair was twisted into an elaborate roll and her haunches were firm and heroic in their proportions. A thin line of perspiration lay prettily above her upper lip. Liberty disliked her enormously.
“Hello,” Liberty said.
“The Phantom’s not back yet.” Janiella extended an arm and slowly rotated it. “I call him the Phantom because he’s never here. He’s a busy, busy child. The Phantom. The Ghost. Kids like names. Makes them feel popular.”
Liberty rubbed Clem’s paw with her foot.
“So come in, come in,” Janiella said. “Duane said he gave you a lift the other day. You lead a peculiar life, don’t you? Have you ever been employed by an escort service?”
Liberty considered placing her knuckles in Janiella’s throat. “I have never been employed by an escort service,” she said.
“I wasn’t trying to be offensive. You just look as though you might be regarded with favor by certain men.”
“Clem’s telephone number is sometimes requested,” Liberty said. “Not mine.”
“I can see why some would want to get in touch with that,” Janiella said, frowning, “but not me. What kind of a vocabulary has he got? I was told that a German shepherd could understand eight hundred words.”
“He knows a few words,” Liberty admitted. “Love, angel, ice cream, retribution …”
“Goodness, was he raised in a monastery or what?” She raised her arms over her head and jiggled her wrists. “What do you think of Duane? Do you think he’s a little crazy?”
“He’s a little crazy.”
“He was sort of cute for a while. I’ve always been attracted to the primitive. I sometimes confuse primitive with genuine. It’s a fault of too much education, I’d be the first to admit it. Duane’s always trying to surprise me now. He can’t do it. He was cute before he started trying to surprise me. As for shocking me, I’m unshockable. I have diabetes and a partially webbed foot. The foot drives most men wild. As for my father, I loathe him. I’ve loathed him ever since the death and burial of my horse, Spritzer. This was long ago. Spritzer was old and feeble. My father dug a hole in the pasture with a back hoe. The veterinarian was called, and we
almost died
, Liberty forced herself to recall, for her mother’s hobby had then been to tie herself to a canoe and float down a quiet river, gazing through her face mask into the crystalline depths, collecting the white bones of mastodons.
River
, Liberty thought, and imagined a stream so clear that it reflected the sky and everything growing and moving along its banks. So that drifting down it, on it, in it, she passed through the images of things. There was something repulsive about such a river. Floating in such a river, Liberty felt only the desire to get out …
She had promised Teddy they would go to the beach that day. It was almost noon and Teddy would be back at noon, fresh from instruction in something. She and Clem walked down Suntan toward his house. The day’s heat pressed againstthe crown of trees. A few old people moved quietly around, sweeping their yards with brooms, pinching off dead blossoms, sprinkling with big, old-fashioned watering cans. Duane’s perfect Mustangs adorned his driveway. They were black, red, white, black; a Fastback, two convertibles and a Shelby. The black Shelby had NIGHT MARE in script upon the trunk.
A large picture window exposed Janiella doing exercises in Duane’s trophy room. There were silver cups from rallies and car shows on the shelves, and on the paneled walls were the heads and hooves of deer and the bodies of fish. Liberty watched as Janiella did the Plough, the Cobra and a lengthy headstand. Snook and bass and baby tarpon gazed absently down upon Janiella as she moved on to alternate nostril breathing. With a finger pressed against her nose, her shut eyes snapped open and locked on Liberty’s. She got to her feet and sauntered to the door. Her blonde hair was twisted into an elaborate roll and her haunches were firm and heroic in their proportions. A thin line of perspiration lay prettily above her upper lip. Liberty disliked her enormously.
“Hello,” Liberty said.
“The Phantom’s not back yet.” Janiella extended an arm and slowly rotated it. “I call him the Phantom because he’s never here. He’s a busy, busy child. The Phantom. The Ghost. Kids like names. Makes them feel popular.”
Liberty rubbed Clem’s paw with her foot.
“So come in, come in,” Janiella said. “Duane said he gave you a lift the other day. You lead a peculiar life, don’t you? Have you ever been employed by an escort service?”
Liberty considered placing her knuckles in Janiella’s throat. “I have never been employed by an escort service,” she said.
“I wasn’t trying to be offensive. You just look as though you might be regarded with favor by certain men.”
“Clem’s telephone number is sometimes requested,” Liberty said. “Not mine.”
“I can see why some would want to get in touch with that,” Janiella said, frowning, “but not me. What kind of a vocabulary has he got? I was told that a German shepherd could understand eight hundred words.”
“He knows a few words,” Liberty admitted. “Love, angel, ice cream, retribution …”
“Goodness, was he raised in a monastery or what?” She raised her arms over her head and jiggled her wrists. “What do you think of Duane? Do you think he’s a little crazy?”
“He’s a little crazy.”
“He was sort of cute for a while. I’ve always been attracted to the primitive. I sometimes confuse primitive with genuine. It’s a fault of too much education, I’d be the first to admit it. Duane’s always trying to surprise me now. He can’t do it. He was cute before he started trying to surprise me. As for shocking me, I’m unshockable. I have diabetes and a partially webbed foot. The foot drives most men wild. As for my father, I loathe him. I’ve loathed him ever since the death and burial of my horse, Spritzer. This was long ago. Spritzer was old and feeble. My father dug a hole in the pasture with a back hoe. The veterinarian was called, and we
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