Russell Working - Resurrectionists (Iowa Short Fiction Award)
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Prize money for the award is provided by a grant from the Iowa Arts Council
Page iii
Resurrectionists
Russell Working
UNIVERSITY OF IOWA PRESS IOWA CITY
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University of Iowa Press, Iowa City 52242 Copyright 1987 by Russell Working All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America First edition, 1987
Text and jacket design by Richard Hendel Typesetting by G&S Typesetters, Austin, Texas Printing and binding by Braun-Brumfield, Ann Arbor, Michigan
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The publication of this book is supported by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts in Washington, D.C., a federal agency.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Working, Russell, 1959 Resurrectionists. I. Title. PS3573.06926R4 1987 813.54 86-30754 ISBN 0-87745-164-8
Page v
Contents
Charis
1
Resurrectionists
23
Shooting
53
Rendering Byzantium
61
Pictures of Her Snake
107
The Monkey
115
Famous People
137
On Freedom
149
Page 1
Charis
Page 3
To the best of Len's recollection, he met Charis on New Year's morning, just after two o'clock. There had been a party. He remembered talking to her. The crowd had finished the last of the champagne, and Len had an image now of a corpulent drunk (someone he knew from work, maybe) sprawled unconscious on the couch, mouth open, a red party hat crushed beneath his head with its string cinched under his jowls. Len knew that as he went for his coat he bumped into her, a tall, striking blonde in a black dress, whomhe was now becoming increasingly convincedhe had spotted through the crowd but had not had the opportunity to meet. Did he introduce himself? Did she toss back her hair and smile beautifully and perhaps say, "Pleased to meet you, Len. I'm Charis"? He remembered her mentioning she had noticed him earlier, "But you were so deep in conversation I left you alone." She said, ''You remind me of someone I used to know." "Who is he?" Len asked. "Nobody, really," she said. "He died in an explosion at an aluminum plant down in Longview." "I often do that to people," Len said, "remind them of someone."
Later, as he tried to piece together what had happened, he found to his vague interest that his memory not only of the previous night but of significant portions of the preceding year was blank.
Len asked, "Did we eat dinner together?"
"No."
"But there was a New Year's party. Somebody kept blowing a whistle in my ear."
"Yes. At Sean and Julie's. Do you remember who they are?"
"Of course."
Charis twisted the watch around her wrist. "I don't mean to be rude."
He shrugged. "I know I spent the night at your house."
"A couple hours of it."
Len set aside the steel rack so the plastic tube would not bisect her face.
Page 4
Charis said, "You shouldn't lift that."
"Why not? What do you want me to do, ring for a nurse?"
"I'd be glad to do it."
"Thanks, I'm not paralyzed." The man in the next bed looked at Len, and Charis smiled at the bed rail. Len considered his reflection in the television screen on the wall against the ceiling (his hospital-issue pajamas open on his wiry chest; arms at his side, one palm upturned and the other down; his hand inserted with a three-inch-long, pliable needle connected to the intravenous tube), and he decided that even unshaven and messy-haired, lying in a cagelike bed, he was not an unattractive man.
He ventured, "And we made love?"
"Don't you remember?"
"Yes, of course. I'm just stating the things I recall."
"I thought it was a question."
"No, it wasn't." Actually, the only thing he could remember was an electric blanket that had been turned too high, but he did not wish to be undiplomatic.
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