put it back down again.
I’m gonna get some air, he said.
What? she said.
Outside, the control tower glowed red spilling a dim light over the desert salt pan. He lit a cigarette, smoked it, went back inside. Grace had gone to bed. He sat in the kitchen and drank his beer.
MOJAVE DESERT
MUROC, CALIFORNIA
FEBRUARY 1961
The sun lulled brittlebush to early flower, full corollas turning the desert floor yellow. Harrison slid up his sunglasses, grinned, pushed open the door.
Daddy! Florence said.
Hey there, Duck, he said, stooping to pick her up. You had a good day?
Daddy’s home!
Grace leaned against the kitchen doorframe, wiping her hands on a towel.
Why yes he is, she said.
Harrison kissed his daughter on the cheek, then repeatedly under her chin. Florence threw her head back and giggled.
Least someone’s pleased to see me, he said.
Just surprised, is all, Grace said, walking toward him. Wasn’t expecting you til after five.
She kissed him.
Got off early, he said, putting Florence down.
Lucky you, Grace said, then sighed. Sorry, she’s been a handful. You okay?
Yeah, he said. Same old.
Daddy come with me, Florence said, cause you have to come with me.
Grace frowned and Harrison followed Florence to the kitchen.
Cookies! he said. Why, Duck, they’re my favorite!
Florence ran to her mother.
Daddy’s favorite! she said.
Isn’t he a lucky man, Grace said.
Florence turned to her father, who was eating a cookie, scowled, and said, you are lucky.
Harrison narrowed his eyes and finished the cookie; does somebody want a horse-bite? he said.
Florence squealed and ran to the sofa. Harrison ran after her, hands held open like claws. She buried her head in the cushions. Harrison grabbed the back of her thighs.
Horse-bite! he said.
Florence screamed and wriggled away. He growled and crawled after her on his hands and knees.
Mommy! Florence said.
Don’t hide behind me, Grace said. When your daddy’s in one of these moods, there’s not much anyone can do.
Florence ran back into the kitchen.
What’s got your goat? Harrison said to Grace, sitting up.
Nothing, she said, sorry; I’m just tired. Listen, instead of horsing around, I could use some help with dinner?
Sure, he said, standing up. Duck, he said, you’re safe now!
No, Daddy, she said. Cause you don’t do that.
C’mon, he said. Go play til supper.
Florence wandered off. Harrison turned back to Grace, who was staring into the steam rising from a pan of boiling water.
Hon? he said. You okay?
What? she said. Yeah, I’m fine.
She turned back to the vegetables on the countertop.
What can I do? he said.
You could set the table, she said.
Sure.
He began to set the table.
How about me takin Duck on her first fishin trip soon.
Jim, you can’t take her into the mountains; she’s way too young.
Kern River, he said. Nothin crazy. Cast a few lines, stick our feet in the water, have a little fun—that kinda thing. Might even catch us a trout or two.
She dropped the chopped vegetables into the pan of water and turned to look at him.
And how you gonna get there? she said.
Take out one of Pancho’s horses, he said. The gentlest one she got. Saddle her up, strap Duck to me; off we go.
And what happens when Florence loses interest and you can’t keep an eye on her because you’re fishing?
Well, I could take a good length of rope; tie one end around a tree, the other around her waist; pack a few toys for her.
Jim—
That’s not such a bad idea, he said. Relax. Look, we’ll be gone half a day, tops, and most of that’ll be ridin.
Grace looked out the window.
Well, okay, she said.
Hey, Duck, he yelled. Where’d she go?
Florence? Grace said, stepping into the living room.
Maybe I left the door open? Harrison said.
Jim, Grace said, the fence—
Her heart lurched.
You haven’t fixed it yet!
Shit, Harrison said, and ran outside. Grace followed. He looked around the yard.
She’s not here, he said.
Jesus, Jim—if she gets
I’m gonna get some air, he said.
What? she said.
Outside, the control tower glowed red spilling a dim light over the desert salt pan. He lit a cigarette, smoked it, went back inside. Grace had gone to bed. He sat in the kitchen and drank his beer.
MOJAVE DESERT
MUROC, CALIFORNIA
FEBRUARY 1961
The sun lulled brittlebush to early flower, full corollas turning the desert floor yellow. Harrison slid up his sunglasses, grinned, pushed open the door.
Daddy! Florence said.
Hey there, Duck, he said, stooping to pick her up. You had a good day?
Daddy’s home!
Grace leaned against the kitchen doorframe, wiping her hands on a towel.
Why yes he is, she said.
Harrison kissed his daughter on the cheek, then repeatedly under her chin. Florence threw her head back and giggled.
Least someone’s pleased to see me, he said.
Just surprised, is all, Grace said, walking toward him. Wasn’t expecting you til after five.
She kissed him.
Got off early, he said, putting Florence down.
Lucky you, Grace said, then sighed. Sorry, she’s been a handful. You okay?
Yeah, he said. Same old.
Daddy come with me, Florence said, cause you have to come with me.
Grace frowned and Harrison followed Florence to the kitchen.
Cookies! he said. Why, Duck, they’re my favorite!
Florence ran to her mother.
Daddy’s favorite! she said.
Isn’t he a lucky man, Grace said.
Florence turned to her father, who was eating a cookie, scowled, and said, you are lucky.
Harrison narrowed his eyes and finished the cookie; does somebody want a horse-bite? he said.
Florence squealed and ran to the sofa. Harrison ran after her, hands held open like claws. She buried her head in the cushions. Harrison grabbed the back of her thighs.
Horse-bite! he said.
Florence screamed and wriggled away. He growled and crawled after her on his hands and knees.
Mommy! Florence said.
Don’t hide behind me, Grace said. When your daddy’s in one of these moods, there’s not much anyone can do.
Florence ran back into the kitchen.
What’s got your goat? Harrison said to Grace, sitting up.
Nothing, she said, sorry; I’m just tired. Listen, instead of horsing around, I could use some help with dinner?
Sure, he said, standing up. Duck, he said, you’re safe now!
No, Daddy, she said. Cause you don’t do that.
C’mon, he said. Go play til supper.
Florence wandered off. Harrison turned back to Grace, who was staring into the steam rising from a pan of boiling water.
Hon? he said. You okay?
What? she said. Yeah, I’m fine.
She turned back to the vegetables on the countertop.
What can I do? he said.
You could set the table, she said.
Sure.
He began to set the table.
How about me takin Duck on her first fishin trip soon.
Jim, you can’t take her into the mountains; she’s way too young.
Kern River, he said. Nothin crazy. Cast a few lines, stick our feet in the water, have a little fun—that kinda thing. Might even catch us a trout or two.
She dropped the chopped vegetables into the pan of water and turned to look at him.
And how you gonna get there? she said.
Take out one of Pancho’s horses, he said. The gentlest one she got. Saddle her up, strap Duck to me; off we go.
And what happens when Florence loses interest and you can’t keep an eye on her because you’re fishing?
Well, I could take a good length of rope; tie one end around a tree, the other around her waist; pack a few toys for her.
Jim—
That’s not such a bad idea, he said. Relax. Look, we’ll be gone half a day, tops, and most of that’ll be ridin.
Grace looked out the window.
Well, okay, she said.
Hey, Duck, he yelled. Where’d she go?
Florence? Grace said, stepping into the living room.
Maybe I left the door open? Harrison said.
Jim, Grace said, the fence—
Her heart lurched.
You haven’t fixed it yet!
Shit, Harrison said, and ran outside. Grace followed. He looked around the yard.
She’s not here, he said.
Jesus, Jim—if she gets
Similar Books
