Benediction (13 page)

It was only a simple little goddamn thing, Dad said. That’s all it was.

What was, honey?

Me crying in town back there at the store. That’s what set me off. It was my life
I was watching there. That little bit of commerce between me and another fellow on
a summer morning at the front counter. Exchanging a few words. Just that. And it wasn’t
nothing at all.

No, that’s not right, it wasn’t either nothing, Mary said. It was everything.

Well. It made me cry anyway, seeing it this morning. I cried like a baby.

Daddy, it’s all right, Lorraine said.

I don’t know, he said. I couldn’t seem to help it.

She and Mary took his arms, standing in the wind, looking at the country. Then they
returned to the car.

They were halfway back to town when Dad said, Darwin Purdy.

What’s that, dear?

That fellow we saw coming out of the store. If I had a name like that I’d change it
to Bill Jones or Bud Smith. He’s a pretty decent fellow, though.

What about changing it to Dad Lewis? Lorraine said.

He smiled. No ma’am, he said. I wouldn’t go so far as that.

Why not?

Look what become of him. Old man crying on Main Street, driving around out in the
country making a nuisance of himself.

O
H
, I’
VE BEEN TALKING TO
Richard at night sometimes, Mom, after you and Daddy are in bed.

I didn’t know you still had any feelings for him. I thought you weren’t that sure
of him.

I’m not. But there’s nobody else right now.

All right. I just don’t want you to be hurt anymore.

Haven’t you been hurt yourself, Mom?

Of course, but almost all of my life here with Dad has been good.

You’re lucky. Not many have had what you’ve had. Or we don’t recognize it. Most of
us just settle for some imitation of it so we don’t have to live alone.

But I won’t have him tire out your father.

I know.

He can come but he can’t stay long.

He just wants to come in and say a few words.

Why does he?

He wants to see Daddy before he’s gone.

They never cared for each other before.

It’s how people are when somebody’s dying. They want to forget the past. Forgive things.

Just so he doesn’t upset him.

Richard drove out from Denver late in the afternoon and got out of his car and stretched
and looked at the old white two-story house and
came up to the door and Lorraine let him in. He kissed her. You taste good, he said.
Is he sitting up?

No, he’s in the bedroom.

Mary came out to the front room. He opened his arms to hug her but instead she only
shook his hand. Now we need to be quiet. I don’t want him disturbed.

How is he today?

He got up for a couple of hours this morning. He sat out here and slept and ate a
little lunch and then went back to bed. He came out again for a short time this afternoon.
He just now went back. I’ll see if he’s still awake.

While she was gone Richard kissed Lorraine again. That’s enough, she said. Save it
for tonight.

Mary returned and led them to the bedroom where Dad was lying propped up on a pillow.
The window shade was pulled down and the room was dim and shadowy. Richard went over
to the bed and sat down on a chair. How are you doing, Mr. Lewis? Dad looked at him.
Do you remember me?

Yeah. I know who you are.

I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad.

I’m not feeling bad. I’m dying.

Yes sir. That’s what I meant. I’m very sorry.

Dad looked at the bar of light below the brown window shade and turned back. What
do you want here?

Richard looked at Lorraine and her mother, standing near the door. I came to say good-bye
to you. I wanted to get here before it was too late.

Good-bye, then.

Yes sir. I won’t stay long.

Dad stared at his face, then shifted his eyes to Lorraine.

You don’t need to worry, Mr. Lewis. I’ll take care of her.

That’s no comfort, Dad said.

Pardon?

I can’t see why you’d think that would be good news to me. I never thought you was
good enough for her.

Well. Hell. Goddamn. I’m sorry you think that way.

I’m sorry too, Dad said. I’m sorry I got to.

Richard stood up. I’ll at least hope you’re in no pain. I’m going to hope that much.

Not that kind I’m not, Dad said.

Richard nodded his head at this and looked once more at Lorraine and Mary and went
out of the room.

Oh, Daddy, Lorraine said. What are you doing?

I’m too far down the road to soften my words now.

But still, Daddy. She came to the bed and kissed him and when she went out to find
Richard her mother sat on the chair he’d been using.

Don’t start lecturing me, Dad said.

I won’t. I feel the same way.

Do you?

Only I wouldn’t say it the way you did.

I felt like it, he said. What reason have I got to hold back now?

Well, you didn’t.

Out in the living room Richard was standing at the window.

Do you want to go out, Lorraine said, and get something to eat? Then I’ll meet you
at the Chute after a while.

If you think I’m good enough for you.

I don’t know if you are or not, she said.

At nine thirty when she got to the Chute Bar and Grill she saw that his car was there
in the parking lot. She stood outside and smoked a cigarette as cars went by on the
highway, pickups, loaded grain trucks. It was a warm summer night with only a hint
of breeze.

She went inside and stood at the door, looking for him. It was cool in the air-conditioning
and the jukebox was playing. Three men sitting at the bar turned to look at her at
the same time as though they were linked together, one of them said something but
she didn’t hear it and didn’t care. A few other people were at the bar, and a man
and woman were sitting in one of the booths against the wall. From
the doorway of the next room she saw that he was sitting alone in a booth, he had
on a pearl snap shirt now and black jeans, and he was watching two women across the
room playing shuffleboard at the long table with an electronic scoreboard nailed to
the wall above it. The women looked to be having a good time, laughing and talking
too loud, then one of them spilled the can of sawdust out on the floor and that seemed
funny to them. They bent over to scoop it up.

You want some help over there, ladies? Richard said.

Come on over here, cowboy.

If you’re not afraid to, the other woman said.

That was funny too, they sat down on the floor laughing.

Don’t damage yourselves, he said.

Lorraine walked over and slid into the seat across from him.

You decided to join me after all, he said.

I was always going to be here, she said. What do you mean?

I couldn’t be sure after the way your father was. What’s he got against me?

He doesn’t like you.

What’s there not to like? He doesn’t know me.

He thinks he does. Enough to form an opinion.

Of what? The kind of person I am? I don’t need him to judge me. What does he know
anyway?

He’s been around for seventy-seven years. He knows a few things.

Because he’s old and dying doesn’t mean he knows anything.

In this case it might.

He looked around the bar. The two women were playing shuffleboard again.

You want a drink? he said.

Yes. I do.

He waved at the barmaid and she saw him at once and came over.

She looked closely at Lorraine. Why, I haven’t seen you in years. You’re Lorraine
Lewis, aren’t you.

Yes.

Marlene Stevens, the woman said.

I remember you, Lorraine said.

I was two years behind you in high school. I used to be Marlene Vosburg.

How are you doing?

I’m here, so I guess I’m all right. I got two kids in high school now myself. What
about you?

I had a daughter.

The woman’s thin face flushed bright red. I’m sorry, she said. I knew that. She laid
her hand on Lorraine’s. I’m sorry for saying anything. Can I get you a drink?

I’ll have another Scotch, Richard said.

You, hon?

A margarita. No salt.

I’ll be right back.

They watched her walk away through the wide doorway into the front room. Little towns,
he said. They all think they know you.

She does know me. Something about me anyway.

They know too much. I don’t like it.

You don’t have to.

He looked at her across the wood tabletop. Are you going to be like this all night?

Like what?

Like you got something up your ass.

That’s a nice expression, Lorraine said. You didn’t have to come here.

I wanted to see you.

You don’t think so now?

He looked at the two women and looked back. Do we have to do this? Just tell me that.

Not if you can be nice, she said.

The waitress returned and set the tray on the table and set the glasses in front of
them. Richard handed her a twenty-dollar bill on the tray and she started to make
change. That’s yours, he said. Keep the rest.

Well thank you. I’ll be right in here if you need something. She went back out to
the bar.

Was that nice enough? he said.

It’s a start, Lorraine said. It was nice to her. That’s all. It’s not that much.

No?

You’re no saint yet.

At midnight they left the bar and she followed him in her car over to his motel at
the west side of Holt on the highway. He was still trying to be nice when they were
in bed, and he slid down in the sheets and helped her to have her desire first.

When she woke in the morning she looked at his face and bare shoulders and arms and
felt a little better toward him. They walked down past the row of parked cars to the
motel café for breakfast. After they ordered he said, Come back to Denver, will you
at least do that much?

I can’t now. You understand that.

I don’t mean now.

We’ll see.

Are you thinking of staying here?

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t tell yet.

After breakfast she kissed him and went home and he started back to Denver. When she
got out of the car she saw that her mother had set the sprinkler going on the north
side of the house and her father was sitting in his chair at the window.

Daddy, you’re up already.

You’re late, he said. It’s the middle of the morning.

It’s only eight o’clock.

You’ve been out all night with him.

What’s wrong, Daddy?

He looked at the tree shade outside and she came across the room and sat on the arm
of his chair.

I was worrying about you, he said. That’s what it is.

What are you worried about? If I’ll manage the store?

No. Hell. You will or you won’t. That’s not worth worrying about anymore. It’ll happen
or it won’t.

What is it then?

He looked up at her face. I just was wanting you to tell me if you was happy or not.
I’d like to know that before I’m gone out of here.

She rose and drew a chair close to him, facing him, and took one of his hands. No,
she said. I’m not happy. If you want to know. Can I tell you that even now?

If that’s what the truth is.

It is. Since Lanie died. I never have been what you’d call truly happy.

You don’t get over it, do you. When a child goes. You never do.

I think about how we would be now. I want to talk to her. I want there to be long
talks between my daughter and me. I have things I want to tell her. That boy that
drove the car and killed her, I could do something terrible to him right now today.
I swear I could.

Her eyes were shiny. Dad squeezed her hand and they sat quietly, both of them looking
at the tree outside the window.

After a while he said, So what about this Richard?

I don’t know, Daddy. He’s okay. He’s just wants to have a good time, go out drinking
and take me to bed afterward.

I don’t have to hear that part of it.

You asked.

Well, are you in love?

No. There’s no one that way. I don’t know if I’ll ever find that kind. I’m too torn
up inside.

I was hoping this morning you’d tell me you was happy.

I’m sorry, Daddy.

I’m sorry too. For you, I mean.

What about you?

Well, yeah, I been happy. Sure. Except for the one thing.

Frank.

Yes.

I know more about that than you think.

I figure you know a lot, Dad said.

I know what happened here with you. And other things that happened in town.

He told you.

Yes. A long time ago.

T
HE HIGH SCHOOL GIRL
drove up to the house after dark. He was watching for her as always from the front
room of the parsonage, his father and mother were back in the kitchen and didn’t say
anything to him anymore when he left the house. He went out across the porch to the
car and got in beside her. She looked no different than she had the other nights,
still dressed in black with the red lipstick dark on her mouth. He wouldn’t have been
able to tell that something was going to happen.

They drove for an hour up and down Main Street and along the residential streets of
town and then turned out north on the highway. The farm lights were lit up in the
night, the headlights of her car bright on the narrow highway ahead of them. Then
she headed the car off on a gravel road and he sat looking at her with the air coming
in through the open window, her music playing, she wasn’t talking very much but sometimes
she didn’t, then before they got to the place where they had parked once or twice
before under a cottonwood tree she stopped the car and reached and turned off the
music and they sat in the road with the engine running.

What are we doing? he said. Somebody could hit us here.

She was staring ahead over the steering wheel. I’ve decided it’s time to stop this.