Digging to America (17 page)

He felt too tired to fix himself supper. Instead he drank two glasses of Scotch and went to bed. His sleep was a drugged sleep, cottony, like a cloth laid over his face. He dreamed he was out in the country, walking through a vast field that he understood to be a furniture graveyard. Abandoned pieces of furniture were grouped by category an acre of beds, an acre of bureaus, an acre of dining-room tables. Dozens of armchairs sat beneath a mulberry tree
,
their seats empty except for the weeds growing up through their cushions, and the fact that they were facing each other made them seem all the lonelier. How can they stand this? he asked, and somebody off in the distance, some man in faded clothes, caroled, Ooh, how can they stand this? in a mocking, cruel voice. He stopped in his tracks, stricken. Then he felt a hand slipping into his, and he turned to see Maryam Yazdan calmly surveying the chairs. They are thinking of all they have lived through, she told him. They like to remember that. He found this consoling, for some reason, and so when she said, Shall we go? he tightened his hand around hers and followed her out of the field.

He woke up and lay for a long while staring into the dark.

By the time Maryam heard about Sami and Ziba's new house, they had already made a down payment and arranged a settlement date. She said, A new house? I didn't know you were looking!

Oh, we hardly knew it ourselves, Sami said, and Ziba said, We weren't sure we would find what we wanted; so why tell anyone?

Maryam was not just anyone, though, and it puzzled her that they had been so secretive. They must have pored over real-estate listings, taken numerous tours, debated the merits of one place compared with another. And yet they'd never breathed a word to her!

But she said, Well, this is wonderful. Congratulations. And she patted Susan on the knee. They were sitting in Maryam's living room, Susan on the sofa beside her with a picture book in her lap. Are you excited? Maryam asked her. Have you seen your new room?

It's got a window seat, Susan told her.

A window seat! Really!

You lift up the cushion part and there's space underneath for my toys. Me and Jin-Ho climbed all the way inside it, even.

Jin-Ho had been to the house?

They'd already told the Donaldsons?

Sami cleared his throat and said, We mentioned this place to Brad and Bitsy because it's in their neighborhood.

Ah. In Mount Washington, she said.

I hope you aren't disappointed we're not moving nearer you, Mom. We did think about Roland Park, but the general atmosphere of Mount Washington seemed more, I don't know...

The general atmosphere of Mount Washington seemed more Donaldsonian, Maryam thought. Better not say it, though. Well, still you'll be very close, she said. Five or ten minutes away! I'm delighted.

Then Sami and Ziba leaned forward at the same moment to pick up their teacups, as if they felt suddenly unburdened. And Maryam picked up her own teacup and smiled at them.

She thought she knew now why they hadn't told her. They were embarrassed to be observed copying the Donaldsons yet again. Oh, those Donaldsons, with their blithe assumption that their way was the only way! Feed your daughter this and not that; let her watch these programs and not those; live here and not there. So American, they were.

But Sami and Ziba thought the Donaldsons were unique, and Maryam didn't feel that she should be the one to set them straight.

The new house was on Pettijohn Street, just three blocks from Brad and Bitsy's. It had a big front porch, lofty old trees, and a spacious backyard. There was only one guest room, though; so Ziba said they would have to buy a foldout couch for the relatives. She invite
d
Maryam to come along when she went shopping. Of course she knew all the furniture stores because of her work, and she spoke knowledgeably about styles and fabrics and projected delivery times. Oh, please! Nothing from Murfree-Mainsburgh, she told a salesman. They take forever with their orders. Maryam was impressed, even though she privately questioned Ziba's taste. Ziba said that her long-range goal was to outfit the house entirely in American Colonial, and she pointed out lace-canopied four-poster beds, velour-lined life chests for memorabilia, revolving stools on barley-twist pedestals, and scallop-trimmed entertainment centers, all in a high-gloss, cocoa-colored wood that seemed not quite real. But what did Maryam know?

They moved on a Friday in late April a nonworking day for Ziba and a working day for Maryam, so that all Maryam had to do was step down the hall to collect Susan from preschool when it was time to go home. She had volunteered to keep Susan till that evening.

Susan was in the Threes class, having turned four only in January. Usually Maryam resisted the urge to look in on her, and when the Threes tramped past the glassed-in office on their way to the playground she tried not to glance up from her desk. It was a pleasure, therefore, to have this excuse to walk straight into the classroom. The children were stowing their art supplies, washing their hands at the knee-high sinks, hanging their smocks in the cubbies labeled with their names. It took Maryam a minute to find Susan because she was sitting at the Reading Table with a book. Had she finished her art project early, or had she never joined the group at all? Maryam always worried, because Susan seemed so reserved next to her rowdier classmates. The teachers kept insisting, though, that she was doing fine. She's such a little ... person, one had said just recently. Maryam's feeling exactly, and so she had relaxed, for the moment.

Time to go, she told Susan now. You're coming home with me today, remember?

Susan shut her book and filed it neatly away on the shelf, all without saying a word, but as she walked past one of the teachers she said, I get to sleep in my new room tonight.

Oh, I know you do! the teacher said. Greta, this was a spirited type.

But first I'm going to Mari june's because Mama's busy setting up my bed.

Well, aren't you lucky! Greta said, and she flashed a grin at Maryam. Have fun, you two!

Maryam smiled and thanked her, but Susan walked out of the room without responding. And in the car, she refused to discuss her day. You'd think Maryam would have learned by now, but she always found herself asking, How was school? What did you do? while Susan gazed out the side window in a silence that seemed not rude but diplomatic, as if she were graciously overlooking Maryam's faux pas. She still rode in a safety seat, because she weighed so little. Jin-Ho had graduated to a booster by now but Susan didn't yet qualify, even though she kept arguing about it.

Just the week before, Maryam had taken in a small stray cat that she'd named Moosh Farsi for mouse because of his gray coat. Susan was in love with him, and the minute they arrived at the house she had to race through all the rooms calling, Moosh? Moosh? Mooshi jon! Where are you, Mooshi jon?

Let him find you, Maryam told her. Come sit in the kitchen and have your snack. He'll show up by and by.

Which was what happened. Susan had barely started on her milk and cookies when Moosh appeared out of nowhere to twine around the legs of her chair. Moosh! she squealed. Can I feed him something? Can I give him some of my milk?

Try these cat treats, Maryam said, and she handed her a box.

Susan slid off her chair and squatted next to Moosh, her sharp bare knees jutting outward. On the wall above her, the phone started ringing, and Maryam reached over to answer it. Hello? she said.

It's Dave Dickinson, Maryam. How are you?

Hello, Dave. I'm fine; how are you?

I understand you're watching Susan this afternoon.

Yes, just till the movers are done.

I was wondering if you might like me to bring Jin-Ho to keep her company.

Oh, you have Jin-Ho today? Maryam asked.

Well, no, but I could go get her.

That would be very nice. Susan, she said, would you like for Jin-Ho to come over?

Susan said, Yes! without taking her eyes from the cat, who was cautiously sniffing the treat she held out. So Maryam told Dave, We'd love to see her. Thank you for thinking of it.

We'll be there in half an hour, he said.

He made such offers a lot nowadays. He must be missing Connie. And Maryam suspected also that he was having trouble adjusting to retirement. She could tell it from the way he prolonged all conversations, and took forever to say goodbye, and invariably joined in when the Donaldsons and the Yazdans got together for any social event.

This afternoon he stayed on after bringing Jin-Ho even though Maryam told him she'd be happy to watch both girls on her own. It's not as if I have anything better to do, he said, and then he gave a strange grimace. I mean, he said, I like sitting here. If I'm not in your way.

Not in the least, Maryam said. In fact, she had planned on using this time to make a meal to take Sami and Ziba, but she asked, Could I fix you a cup of tea? Or coffee?

Coffee would be good. Oh, but, I'm sorry; you have things to do, don't you? Really, I don't need any coffee.

She smiled at his phrasing. Although need was, come to think of it, a word that summed Dave up these days. He watched people so expectantly; he kept his eyes fixed on her so steadfastly as she moved around the kitchen. And when she set his coffee in front of him he was so disproportionately grateful. This is very kind of you, he said. I really appreciate your going to the bother.

It was no bother, she told him.

As long as he was just sitting there, she might as well proceed with her cooking. She took a pan from the cupboard almost soundlessly, as if that would keep him from noticing what she was up to. While she was filling the pan with water he said something she didn't catch, and she waited till she'd turned the faucet off before she said, Excuse me?

I was saying, this coffee tastes unusually delicious. Do you get it someplace special?

Just the supermarket, she said with a laugh.

Well, maybe it's because someone besides me made it. I get awfully tired of eating my own cooking.

A streak of gray passed by: Moosh escaping the girls, who followed close behind. He was not so much running as walking very fast, trying to keep his dignity, and the girls managed to corner him between the table and the door. Mooshi-Moosh, they were saying. Mooshi june! even Jin-Ho, squatting next to Susan and holding out a cat treat. Like Susan, she wore shorts and a T-shirt, and on her feet were those jelly sandals that all the children favored this year.

Mooshi? Is that his name? Dave asked.

Moosh, Susan told him.

Well, hi there, Moosh! Dave said heartily. Where do you happen to come from?

Susan turned to Maryam and wrinkled her forehead. She said, I didn't know Moosh could talk.

He can't, Maryam said, spooning out rice. You'll have to answer for him.

Oh. Susan turned back to Dave and said, Mari -june found him under her porch.

Lucky Moosh! he said.

Guess what, Susan told him. I get to sleep in my new room tonight.

So I heard. You have a whole new house.

The moving truck's moving my bed today.

Is it a normal house, or is it a magic house? Dave asked. What?

Well, for instance, some mornings when I go for my run I see this house two streets over that I really like to look at. It's got a porch swing, and a hammock, and a cupola on the roof. But then other mornings, I don't see it.

Susan sat back on her heels and studied him in silence. I mean, he told her, it's not there.

Where'd it go?

Well, I don't know, he said. Sometimes it's there and some -
t
imes it's not. A lot of things do that more than we're aware of. They do? She looked at Maryam. They do? she aske
d
Maryam.

'There was one, and there wasn't one,'
Maryam quoted, surprising even herself.
'Except for God, there was no one. '

Dave said, What's that?

That's how people at home used to begin old stories. It's like 'Once upon a time,' I guess.

Really! Dave said. He set down his coffee cup. That's fascinating! How does it go, again? 'There was one ...'

Oh, well. It's just a loose translation, she said.

No, really. How does it go?

She couldn't say why she felt so weary, all at once. She dropped the scoop back into the rice bin. At her feet, Susan was asking, What's a cupola, Mari -june? Does my new house have a cupola?

Instead of answering, Maryam told Dave, You know, it's ridiculous that you should have to stay around here all afternoon just twiddling your thumbs. Why not let me bring Jin-Ho back when I take Susan home?

Oh, he said.

She felt a twinge of remorse. Not that you aren't welcome, she said. But there's no reason you should tie up your day.

I don't have a day, Maryam.

She pretended not to hear this. All you'd have to do is switch Jin-Ho's booster seat to my car, she said, if you don't mind my asking.

So that he was forced to say, Well, of course, I don't mind at all. Then he stood up, with his hands hanging loose at his sides in an empty, disconsolate way. But still she didn't relent.