Johanna Skibsrud - This Will Be Difficult to Explain and Other Stories

THIS WILL BE DIFFICULT TO EXPLAIN

and other stories

ALSO BY JOHANNA SKIBSRUD

Fiction

The Sentimentalists

Poetry

Late Nights with Wild Cowboys

I Do Not Think That I Could Love a Human Being

THIS WILL BE DIFFICULT TO EXPLAIN

and other stories

JOHANNA SKIBSRUD

HAMISH HAMILTON CANADA

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published 2011

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (RRD)

Copyright Johanna Skibsrud, 2011

The Electric Man first appeared as a limited edition chapbook published by Kate Hall and Heather Jessup of Delirium Press (April 2005). The Limit first appeared in Stickman Review (December 2005). This will be difficult to explain first appeared in Issue 69 of Glimmer Train (Winter 2009) as This will be difficult to explain, and other stories. French Lessons first appeared in Vol 15, No 1 of Zoetrope: All-Story (Spring 2011).

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Publishers note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Manufactured in the U.S.A.

LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

Skibsrud, Johanna, 1980

This will be difficult to explain : and other stories / Johanna Skibsrud.

ISBN 978-0-670-06630-8

I. Title.

PS8587.K46T55 2011 C813.54 C2011-904907-4

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CONTENTS

THE ELECTRIC MAN

For Rebecca

THE FIRST TIME I saw him he was sitting out on the deck of the Auberge DesJardins, drinking something out of a tall glass. He had a broad-brimmed straw hat on, the kind that women wear, and he was reading The Herald Tribune. I was always looking out for The Herald Tribune that summer, because it indicated to me the English-speaking visitors when they came. Though I could no longer excuse the great loneliness of that summer by the dearth of English newspapers in the place, I was always happy to see The Herald Tribune.

The Auberge was a spot more popular among the Continentals. The Americans and the Brits and even most of the Australians stayed at the bigger resorts, closer to town. We kept mostly Swiss and Belgian visitors, many of whom had been coming to stay at the Auberge for many years, and so were notas the Americans always seemed to be doingsimply passing through.

By that point in the summer, my French was good enough for just about every purpose except being able to actually say anything. My accent was all right, the guests all said so: I could carry it off. It wasnt marvellous, they didnt say that, but they did say, to my credit, that I didnt sound like an American, pretending, orand this was worsea Canadian, being sincere.

When I saw him the first time I was doing the afternoon rounds on the decksweeping through, as I did every four oclockcollecting empty glasses and trays and asking if the guests were quite as comfortable as could be expected. Everyone mostly said that they were. The Aubergeespecially out on the deck, in the pre-dinner hourswas a comfortable place, and very few people thought to complain. Except, of course, on the occasion that they should need a drink, or the bill, or else another drink, and then they did ask, but so politelyin so light and detached a waythat it was as if they wished to indicate that the lack, indicated by the request, was in fact just another element from which was composed an all-around satisfactory whole. One or two guests, however, over the course of the weeks that I stayed on at the Auberge, could be counted on to be more exacting than most. The man with the hat was, it turned out, one of those.

THE FIRST TIME I saw him was not the first time he saw me, and when I made my way over to his table and said, Tout va bien, Monsieur? because he looked like a man who didnt need a thing in the world, he said, Non. He said: I saw you pass this way fifteen minutes ago, and I tried to get your attention. Theres not enough ice in my drink. He rattled his tall glass so that I could see that it was true.

From his accent I guessed he was from somewhere in the Northeast. Connecticut, New Hampshire, maybe, and I thought it was too bad that he could tell right away that I wasnt French. Usually it was just the people who really were French who could tell. But maybe, I thought, he was one of those guests whose French was so bad they didnt even try. Who just spoke English as though they expected everyone to understand, or else learn in a hurry.

Im sorry, sir, I said, in my friendliest voice. Well get that fixed up for you right away, and he said, I didnt expect you to be from the South. I would have pegged you as being from Minnesota or something. St. Paul. Arent you a little serious, he said, for the South?

I didnt know what he meant, but I knew he didnt mean to be nice. He had a teasing, half-mean look in his eye and held his glass away from me when I leaned over to take it away. I could tell he was going to be a most scrupulous guest, and any hope that Id had for striking up more than the usual conversation with him was gone. I just wanted to get back to the kitchen, to get him more ice for his drink like hed asked.

The glass itself, however, the man with the hat had by then retractedjust enough that I would have had to really reach for it in order to take it away. He watched me carefully as he held it there, at that particular distance, looking interested in what I might do. I didnt do anything. I just stood there with my handnot extended, but just open and waiting between usuntil he got bored with the game and simply handed me the glass.

Thats the way things went for some time. He didnt like me very much, and I didnt like him. Or else he liked me too much, and I didnt like him. I couldnt decide, and neither one pleased me.