Losing It by Alan Cumyn

People turned in the store to smile at him perched in Donny’s arms.
    “Oh, take me home,” Julia said, a bad headache that instant coming on.

8
    T hey made you walk and walk even when your feet were wet and dirty. And it was so hot. Where was the camp? Miles away! She was sure they were lost. She and Capt. Buzbie. He was completely out of uniform and was making her carry all the bags. They should have stayed with the horses.
    “It’s not too much farther,” he said, but not the way he was before. One spot of trouble and he got discouraged. Bad-tempered. All walk-walk. It wasn’t her fault.
    She asked him, “Who’s going to look after the horses?”
    He replied, “It’s not too much farther. Do you like toast?”
    “I would have stayed with the horses,” she said. It was easier to look at the ground, hard and black. He was so high up.
    “Do you know any of these streets?” he asked.
    “All my life,” Lenore said. Jesper Street, she meant to say. All her life on Jesper Street, until that next one. When Daddy lost the business that one time. And William whatsit, the tall one, lost his finger. What was he doing? Snowing.
    “Where do you normally stay?” Capt. Buzbie asked. He’d shaved off his moustache, looked quite different.
    “You should know,” Lenore said.
    “Is it in this neighbourhood?” he asked.
    Hard, black ground. Lenore’s feet were so tired. “Where are the horses?” she asked. Her bags were so heavy, and it was hot. Why did she have to do all the work?
    “Were there horses here?” Capt. Buzbie asked. Such an idiot. “When you were young?”
    “We
had
horses,” Lenore said, stamping her foot, “just a few minutes ago! For God’s sake!”
    “Horses?” Buzbie asked, inanely.
    Walking and walking. One foot and then the other. At least there’d be a swim at the lake. Trevor would make the martinis. He was such a good-looking man. Nice hands. He’d say, “Where the hell have you been? Next you’re going to ask me to make my own dinner!” He’d say, “It’s Cleopatra, risen from her sleep!” Drunk with it.
    “This is it,” Capt. Buzbie said.
    At last! Lenore was shivery from the heat and bother of it all. She wanted a swim badly. Then a martini, then she’d get to dinner.
    “My mom’s not home, so we’re going to have to wait for her,” Capt. Buzbie said. “Careful on the steps. Do you want a hand?”
    Lenore didn’t need a hand with anything, thank you! Just show me to the lake, she thought.
    “I’ll get the door,” the captain said.
    “I really think I need a swimsuit,” Lenore said.
    “A what?”
    “Well, you don’t want me winter-dipping, do you?”
    “No,” said the captain uncertainly. The poor man was shocked! Well, what do they teach you in the army?
    They went in the cottage. It was substantial, lots of stairs.That’s too bad. Not really on the lake at all, Lenore realized. What a silly place to build.
    “Would you like some toast?” Buzbie asked.
    “You must have a hard time with the docks,” she said. It wasn’t the black ground any more. It was wood and carpet. Darker though, and it smelled of something. So hard to keep clean.
    “The what?”
    “Docks!” she said. It was the right word. She hadn’t made a mistake in a long time.
    “What docks?”
    “I would like a martini,” she said proudly. It was the proper thing to offer. “Before my swim.”
    The captain was nervous. He couldn’t seem to settle down. He’d probably never been with a woman before. Even though she was married. They were very secluded in the military. Made a lot of mistakes. His uniform was sloppy. The cuffs of his trousers dragged on the ground.
    “How about some juice?” he asked. “Or do you drink milk?”
    “I think I made myself perfectly clear!” Lenore said, snappishly then. Probably too much yelling in the military. Softened the brain. Or perhaps –
    “Were you overseas?” Lenore asked.
    “Overseas?”
    “That Jones boy was,” she said. “It