squarish, small, not gorgeous at all, and it was nice too.
"That sounds accurate."
The humor left it and there was only surprise. "You believe me? You're a doll!" She kissed him, suddenly, on the nose, didn't look embarrassed, exactly; rather as though she were timing some important gesture:
Which was to pick up her harmonica and hail notes in his face. They both laughed (he was astonished beneath the laughter and suspected it showed) while she said: "Let's walk."
"Your blanket…?"
"Leave it here."
He carried the notebook. They flailed through the leaves, jogging. At the path he stopped and looked down at his hip. "Uhh …?"
She looked over.
"Do you," he asked slowly, "remember my picking up the orchid and putting it on my belt here?"
"I put it on there." She thumbed some blemish on the harmonica. "You were going to leave it behind, so I stuck a blade through your belt loop. Really. It can be dangerous around here."
Mouth slightly open, he nodded as, side by side, they gained the shadowless paths.
He said: "You stuck it there." Somewhere a breeze, without force, made its easy way in the green. He was aware of the smoky odor about them for two breaths before it faded with inattention. "All by yourself, you just found those people in the park?"
She gave him a You-must-be-out-of-your-mind look. "I came in with quite a party, actually. Fun; but after a couple of days they were getting in the way. I mean it's nice to have a car. But if you're rendered helpless by lack of gasoline…" She shrugged. "Before we got here, Phil and I were taking bets whether this place really existed or not." Her sudden and surprising smile was all eyes and very little mouth. "I won. I stayed with the group I came in with a while. Then I cut them loose. A few nights with Milly, John, and the rest. Then I've been off having adventures—until a few nights ago, when I came back."
Thinking: Oh—"You had some money when you got here?"—Phil.
"Group I came with did. A lot of good it did them. I mean how long would you wander around a city like this looking for a hotel? No, I had to let them go. They were happy to be rid of me."
"They left?"
She looked at her sneaker and laughed, mock ominous.
"People leave here," he said. "The people who gave me the orchid, they were leaving when I came."
"Some people leave." She laughed again. It was a quiet and self-assured and intriguing and disturbing laugh.
He asked: "What kind of adventures did you have?"
"I watched some scorpion fights. That was weird. Nightmare's trip isn't my bag, but this place is so small you can't be that selective. I spent a few days by myself in a lovely home in the Heights: which finally sent me up the wall. I like living outdoors. Then there was Calkins for a while."
"The guy who publishes the newspaper?"
She nodded. "I spent a few days at his place. Roger's set up this permanent country weekend, only inside city limits. He keeps some interesting people around."
"Were you one of the interesting people?"
"I think Roger just considered me decorative, actually. To amuse the interesting ones. "His loss."
She was pretty in a sort of rough way—maybe closer to "cute".
He nodded.
"The brush with civilization did me good, though. Then I wandered out on my own again. Have you been to the monastery, out by Holland?"
"Huh?"
"I've never been there either but I've heard some very sincere people have set up a sort of religious retreat. I still can't figure out if they got started before this whole thing happened, or whether they moved in and took over afterward. But it still sounds impressive. At least what one hears."
"John and Mildred are pretty sincere."
"Touché!" She puffed a chord, then looked at him curiously, laughed, and hit at the high stems. He looked; and her eyes, waiting for him to speak, were greener than the haze allowed any leaf around.
"It's like a small town," he said. "Is there anything else to do but gossip?"
"Not really." She hit the stems again.
"That sounds accurate."
The humor left it and there was only surprise. "You believe me? You're a doll!" She kissed him, suddenly, on the nose, didn't look embarrassed, exactly; rather as though she were timing some important gesture:
Which was to pick up her harmonica and hail notes in his face. They both laughed (he was astonished beneath the laughter and suspected it showed) while she said: "Let's walk."
"Your blanket…?"
"Leave it here."
He carried the notebook. They flailed through the leaves, jogging. At the path he stopped and looked down at his hip. "Uhh …?"
She looked over.
"Do you," he asked slowly, "remember my picking up the orchid and putting it on my belt here?"
"I put it on there." She thumbed some blemish on the harmonica. "You were going to leave it behind, so I stuck a blade through your belt loop. Really. It can be dangerous around here."
Mouth slightly open, he nodded as, side by side, they gained the shadowless paths.
He said: "You stuck it there." Somewhere a breeze, without force, made its easy way in the green. He was aware of the smoky odor about them for two breaths before it faded with inattention. "All by yourself, you just found those people in the park?"
She gave him a You-must-be-out-of-your-mind look. "I came in with quite a party, actually. Fun; but after a couple of days they were getting in the way. I mean it's nice to have a car. But if you're rendered helpless by lack of gasoline…" She shrugged. "Before we got here, Phil and I were taking bets whether this place really existed or not." Her sudden and surprising smile was all eyes and very little mouth. "I won. I stayed with the group I came in with a while. Then I cut them loose. A few nights with Milly, John, and the rest. Then I've been off having adventures—until a few nights ago, when I came back."
Thinking: Oh—"You had some money when you got here?"—Phil.
"Group I came with did. A lot of good it did them. I mean how long would you wander around a city like this looking for a hotel? No, I had to let them go. They were happy to be rid of me."
"They left?"
She looked at her sneaker and laughed, mock ominous.
"People leave here," he said. "The people who gave me the orchid, they were leaving when I came."
"Some people leave." She laughed again. It was a quiet and self-assured and intriguing and disturbing laugh.
He asked: "What kind of adventures did you have?"
"I watched some scorpion fights. That was weird. Nightmare's trip isn't my bag, but this place is so small you can't be that selective. I spent a few days by myself in a lovely home in the Heights: which finally sent me up the wall. I like living outdoors. Then there was Calkins for a while."
"The guy who publishes the newspaper?"
She nodded. "I spent a few days at his place. Roger's set up this permanent country weekend, only inside city limits. He keeps some interesting people around."
"Were you one of the interesting people?"
"I think Roger just considered me decorative, actually. To amuse the interesting ones. "His loss."
She was pretty in a sort of rough way—maybe closer to "cute".
He nodded.
"The brush with civilization did me good, though. Then I wandered out on my own again. Have you been to the monastery, out by Holland?"
"Huh?"
"I've never been there either but I've heard some very sincere people have set up a sort of religious retreat. I still can't figure out if they got started before this whole thing happened, or whether they moved in and took over afterward. But it still sounds impressive. At least what one hears."
"John and Mildred are pretty sincere."
"Touché!" She puffed a chord, then looked at him curiously, laughed, and hit at the high stems. He looked; and her eyes, waiting for him to speak, were greener than the haze allowed any leaf around.
"It's like a small town," he said. "Is there anything else to do but gossip?"
"Not really." She hit the stems again.
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