Richard Bausch - Wives & Lovers: Three Short Novels

Contents

3 SHORT NOVELS:

Requisite Kindness

Rare & Endangered Species

Spirits

AFTER

December 22,1994

The afternoon bus from Newport News was twenty minutes late, and the first five people who got off were Navy men. Brian Huttons younger brother Norman was the last of them, looking leaner than Brian remembered himthough it had only been a little more than a year. Twenty-four years old now, sixteen years younger than Brian. Life at sea obviously agreed with him. His skin was tan, his eyes clear; the musculature of his upper arms showed under the uniform. Everything about him made a contrast to the older brother, whose frame had begun to sag.

Norman said, Hard times, Bro.

They embraced. Hey, Brian said. He felt heavy and awkward. He stepped back and reached for his brothers duffel bag.

I got it, Norman said, shouldering the bag. They stood gazing at each other. Somehow Id talked myself into thinking this day wouldnt come.

Almost ninety-five, Brian said. A good long life.

Norman nodded. I still hate it.

Dad and Aunt Natalie are at the funeral home. You want to clean up first, or go straight over?

Whatever.

Its your call, Norm.

Lets go see them.

They headed across the open lot of the station with its borders of freshly plowed snow piled high. They had to shield their eyes from the sun; the air was crisp and cold. All along the highway beyond the end of the station lot were telephone poles festooned with bright Christmas ribbons and tinsel. You had to enter the terminal building to exit out onto the street, and inside, a thin-faced smiling man in a dark business suit stood next to a large cardboard box of pocketsized Bibles. The box was sitting on a plastic chair. Praise the Lord, he said, nodding deferentially, offering Norman one of the Bibles. Beat it, Norman muttered.

Pardon?

He walked on.

Pardon? the man said to Brian.

Excuse me, Brian said.

Norman was waiting, smiling, by the door. Check out his face, man. Hes a confused evangelist now.

Brian let him pass through, then turned to look at the man with the Bibles, who was staring after them. He thought of going back to apologize.

From out on the sidewalk, his brother said, Forget something? He stepped out and they walked along the street, toward the public parking lot up the block. Just out of curiosity, Norman, what do you think Gram wouldve said about that particular exchange?

Norman hefted the duffel bag higher on his shoulder. Guy giving Bibles away in a bus station. I guess Im home, all right.

Its Bibles, Norm. What harm is in that?

I dont like it shoved in my face like that.

But reallywhat do you think Elenad say?

I know, Norman said. Okay? I know.

They walked on a few paces.

So, you were there for it, Norman said. What was thatwhat did it He halted.

I was only there at the very end. It was Dad mostly. The whole eastern seaboard was snowbound. Aunt Natalie was down in Florida with a tour group, stranded at the airport. Dad and Gram were alone and they went through it that way, the two of them.

Jesus.

She feels awful for not being there when it happened.

They crossed the street and entered the municipal parking lot. Norman shifted the duffel bag to the other shoulder. God, I feel bad now. I dont know what gets into me. I cant help myself when that Bible stuff gets thrown at me, like its a snack food or something. Gram never did that. Not once. Ive got a roommate, manspouts Bible and chapter and verse all the damn time. You should see him he doesnt have pictures of his family or a girlfriend in his wallet, hes got pictures of Jesus and the saints. Most of the time its like Im the devil, because I want to drink a little whiskey now and then and go with the girls.

Gram probably wouldve loved him.

I said, I know, okay?

For a few minutes Brian couldnt recall where he put the car. He stopped and turned slowly, looking for it among the glaring shapes. The sun reflecting off the snow was brighter than it ever seemed in summer.

Is Mom coming back? Norman asked.

Its too far. Um, she says. Under the circumstances.

I figured. Christ. What about Tommy?

Tommys with her.

Well, its a long way to come for a funeral. But Gram would come to theirs.

Its having to be anywhere around Dad, isnt it?

I wasnt going to come out and say it.

Brian found the car, and opened the trunk. Norman threw the duffel bag in, then decided to retrieve something from ita small metal flask.

My ration of vegetables, he said. Corn. Cant be without it. He twisted the cap open and took a swig, then offered it to Brian.

Thanks anyway, Brian said.

A lot of nutrition in an acre of corn.

Ill have some later.

What about Tillie? Norman asked. Will she be there?

What do you think?

So the marriage and divorce are off.

Funny, Brian said.

She and Gram got along though. Gram liked her.

Brian said nothing. They got into the car. His brother took another swig from the flask and offered it again. He waved it off, starting the car. Damn, Norman said. Id like to see Tillie.

Tillies gone, said Brian. Then he took the flask and drank from it, feeling the burn as it went down. Handing the flask back to his brother, he rested both hands on the steering wheel. Im not built for this shit, he said.

Norman smiled at him, holding up the flask. Thats what you keep saying, there, bro. But you keep getting yourself into it.

They drove straight to the funeral home, which was on a quiet residential street in Point Royal, twenty-three miles down Highway 29, toward Charlottesville. The road was wet from melting snow, though you could see that in the shade it was not melting; it was encrusted there, stone solid. Several of the tall spruce trees surrounding the funeral home had broken branches from the weight of the snow, which kept thawing and then freezing again in the nights. The storm had come through three days ago. One of the spruce trees in the yard was garlanded with white Christmas lights, and the lights were on, though it was still day.

The only other car in the parking lot was their fathers. Norman paused outside the car and adjusted his uniform, using the passenger side window as a mirror. The funeral home had an ogee roof, like a meeting hall, and a front portico supported by white columns. A long gray limo was parked in the shade of the portico. They made their way inside, and were met by a squarish, silver-haired man in a gray suit. Elena Hutton, Brian said to him.

The man nodded, seeming faintly standoffishperhaps he smelled the whiskey on them. He led them through the hall and to the left, past heavy stuffed chairs and facing couches.

At the end of a long, narrow, dimly lit room, Henry Hutton and his sister sat side by side on two straightback chairs. The casket was mounted to their left, in the corner, beside a massive array of flowers. Norman was first to reach them. Aunt Natalie gave forth a little cry, standing to throw her arms around him. Henry stood, too, and glanced Brians way before concentrating on the younger son. There was something in the old mans expressionan obscure, brooding aversionthat made Brian feel inexplicably walled out. It had been this way since those last hours of his grandmothers life. He watched his father talking to Norman about the bus ride north.

First time I took that ride I was on my way to Washington and my first jobas an office clerk over at the Department of State. The countrys all shopping malls and suburbs now. Back then it was farms. Nothing but fields and hills and trees. Beautiful country back then. Henry, Aunt Natalie said. Please, no more nostalgia.

He ignored her, putting his arm around Norman and staring off, as if he were looking at the remembered landscape. It was beautiful country right up to the mid-sixties.