defeat. Bad jokes win. Her eyes glistened, but she laughed. I was proud of her for coming through, but I could not help feeling guilty too. She had her adjustment, her acceptance. It wasn’t fair to stir her up. It wasn’t fair to her for me to want to see her lift a bit, to see what she looked like behind the iron control. Two games had set a pattern. We were Myra and Frank. If I tried another round, shewould feel obligated. So I would leave it up to her to start the next one. And she would know I was leaving it up to her and why. That was the funny thing about us, back in the beginning. I had the absolute confidence in her knowing what I was thinking.
We went north up Route 8 into the hills. We went through a village named Poland. It looked like a Christmas card. The roads were dry, the snow banked high. It was the sort of town that you do not particularly want to live in, but wish you had come from. It looked like a very good place to be from.
Further up into the Adirondack Forest Preserve, the air was clearer and colder. The heater in the little sedan was comforting. Winding road, winter lakes, blackness of the evergreens against snow, tree-stubbled hills like the hump backs of old browsing beasts, eating away at eternity. At least we had changed the quality of our silences. Or that lovely land had changed it.
Speculator, at almost four in the afternoon, was about the size of Poland, but with about one-fifth the charm. Progress had begun to clomp down its main drag, whanging at a tin drum, sending off little clusters of neon. The ski kids were roaming the area, hooting their rut cries at each other, speckling the snow banks with their bright empty beer cans. I parked in front of a big supermarket-type general store called Chas Johns, where all the fluorescence was on in the gray dullness of the overcast afternoon, and Dana called from an outdoor phone booth. She was back in a few moments and said, “They say he went down to Gloversville to pick up a railway express shipment of skis or something, and they expect him back at six.”
“So, accommodations I guess. I want a chance to measure him a little, get the right time and place to break him open.”
“Remember, he’ll recognize me.”
“I know. And I may need you for the finale, after he’s gone soft. We’ll see.”
“It’s strange. You make him sound like a locked box.”
“That’s what they are, Dana. And usually somebody skimped on the design. Bad welds and a dime-store lock.”
There was a small and relatively new motel jammed into almost the center of town at a strange angle. I made a try. The gentleman in command said he had one twin-bed room only because he had a cancellation, and he could let it go for one night only, because he was reserved from Thursday right through the weekend, and so was everybody else. It was good snow and a good forecast, and it looked like one of the big weeks of the season.
I went back out and got in behind the wheel and said, “Dana, I can’t help how this sounds, believe me. It’s a high-school routine all the way. You can go in and ask him.” I told her what I’d learned, and said, “Suppose I take it and you drive back down to Utica and stay there and come on back out in the morning.”
She hesitated for four seconds and then said, “If you’d just do something about that horrible snoring, see a doctor, anything, then we wouldn’t have to go through this all the time.”
“Myra, I freely admit I do breathe a little heavy.”
“A little heavy! When you get going, the neighbors run out into the night screaming ‘Lion, Lion.’ ”
“Only when I get over onto my back, dear.”
“Then you have a back on both sides. Anyway, dear, I’ll sleep so well in this mountain air, I don’t think you’ll bother me tonight. But do try to hold it down to a dull roar.”
“You act as if I enjoyed it.”
“Because, my pet, you
sound
as if you were enjoying it.”
A car came in and I was afraid we would
We went north up Route 8 into the hills. We went through a village named Poland. It looked like a Christmas card. The roads were dry, the snow banked high. It was the sort of town that you do not particularly want to live in, but wish you had come from. It looked like a very good place to be from.
Further up into the Adirondack Forest Preserve, the air was clearer and colder. The heater in the little sedan was comforting. Winding road, winter lakes, blackness of the evergreens against snow, tree-stubbled hills like the hump backs of old browsing beasts, eating away at eternity. At least we had changed the quality of our silences. Or that lovely land had changed it.
Speculator, at almost four in the afternoon, was about the size of Poland, but with about one-fifth the charm. Progress had begun to clomp down its main drag, whanging at a tin drum, sending off little clusters of neon. The ski kids were roaming the area, hooting their rut cries at each other, speckling the snow banks with their bright empty beer cans. I parked in front of a big supermarket-type general store called Chas Johns, where all the fluorescence was on in the gray dullness of the overcast afternoon, and Dana called from an outdoor phone booth. She was back in a few moments and said, “They say he went down to Gloversville to pick up a railway express shipment of skis or something, and they expect him back at six.”
“So, accommodations I guess. I want a chance to measure him a little, get the right time and place to break him open.”
“Remember, he’ll recognize me.”
“I know. And I may need you for the finale, after he’s gone soft. We’ll see.”
“It’s strange. You make him sound like a locked box.”
“That’s what they are, Dana. And usually somebody skimped on the design. Bad welds and a dime-store lock.”
There was a small and relatively new motel jammed into almost the center of town at a strange angle. I made a try. The gentleman in command said he had one twin-bed room only because he had a cancellation, and he could let it go for one night only, because he was reserved from Thursday right through the weekend, and so was everybody else. It was good snow and a good forecast, and it looked like one of the big weeks of the season.
I went back out and got in behind the wheel and said, “Dana, I can’t help how this sounds, believe me. It’s a high-school routine all the way. You can go in and ask him.” I told her what I’d learned, and said, “Suppose I take it and you drive back down to Utica and stay there and come on back out in the morning.”
She hesitated for four seconds and then said, “If you’d just do something about that horrible snoring, see a doctor, anything, then we wouldn’t have to go through this all the time.”
“Myra, I freely admit I do breathe a little heavy.”
“A little heavy! When you get going, the neighbors run out into the night screaming ‘Lion, Lion.’ ”
“Only when I get over onto my back, dear.”
“Then you have a back on both sides. Anyway, dear, I’ll sleep so well in this mountain air, I don’t think you’ll bother me tonight. But do try to hold it down to a dull roar.”
“You act as if I enjoyed it.”
“Because, my pet, you
sound
as if you were enjoying it.”
A car came in and I was afraid we would
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