either, never mind. How are you feeling today? Yesterday you seemed tired.”
“Yeah, to tell you the truth I hardly remember our conversation. I was a little whacked-out. This new stuff they’ve got me on is potent.”
There was a pause, her sharp intake of breath, and a soft laugh that couldn’t mask what lay underneath.
“Jesus, I feel like shit.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.”
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s just the thought of another round of this next month makes me want to die. I mean, seriously. I’m actually surprised that I’m saying this but maybe they should just cut that fucking thing off and be done with it. I could get a prosthetic. I could still wear bikinis.”
“They make those? Prosthetic breasts?”
“Yeah. You can pretty much get a prosthetic anything these days.”
Perry could tell she was crying and trying to hide it. He could smell the steaks cooking on the grill, could hear Kat humming tunelessly to herself out on the patio.
“I know it sucks now but it will all work out. You won’t need a prosthetic anything.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m being depressing. Let’s say good night.”
“Love.”
“Love.”
—
They ate their steaks out on the patio. There was no furniture, so they sat on the bare concrete with their plates balanced on their laps, cutting their meat while a dusky swarm of moths batted around the single halogen bulb.
“We’ve been doing this for a long time now,” he finally said.
“Yes. This is our seventh year. And?”
“And, it’s funny to think that we existed, us together, before either of our marriages.”
“So?”
“Doesn’t that beg the question, which is the marriage, which is the affair?”
“I married John at the First Church of Christ in Hardin. We live together. Every day. That’s the marriage. Don’t be dumb, General.”
Kat was right, of course. She had a smear of steak juice on her upper lip. Perry thought that that was unbearable.
Later, she emerged from the bathroom in a one-piece dress of white beaded deerskin, cinched at the waist with a wide, quill-stitched belt. Her face was scrubbed clean without paint, and she had used a thin plait of her own hair to tie the rest back into a ponytail. The dress was short and ended in fringe at her upper thighs. Strong thighs, horse-squeezing thighs. The dress was new. A new thing for them.
“Christ, you are beautiful.”
“Sha, yousay.”
And then she straddled him on the bed. Rode him like she had stolen him and god himself was in pursuit.
—
After another hot day on Last Stand ridge, Perry spent an hour posing for photographs with tourists. He put his arms around two rotund sixty-something women and they all smiled for the photographer.
“We are twins,” one of them said. “And we’re from Michigan. Did you know Custer was from Michigan himself?” Perry smiled behind his mustache and made a show of examining the women. He thought they only looked like twins the way all fat older women looked like twins. He wanted a beer, he wanted a steak, and he wanted Kat’s head in his lap. “We love Custer trivia,” one of the twins said. “Did you know he graduated from West Point at the top of his class and would probably have been made president one day had his career continued on its natural path?”
“I did know that. In fact I have a PhD in Custer studies, and my dissertation was a theoretical projection of the scope of American politics had Custer survived the battle and gone on to be elected president.” Perry thought this to be sufficiently lofty to discourage further conversation.
“Oh, how interesting! Did you know that Custer had size-twelve feet and was married to Elizabeth Bacon?”
Perry was developing a headache. There was a shimmer of heat out over Last Stand ridge, and he could feel hot rivulets of sweat roll from his underarms.
“I did know that,” he said, “now I have one for you ladies. Did you know that
“Yeah, to tell you the truth I hardly remember our conversation. I was a little whacked-out. This new stuff they’ve got me on is potent.”
There was a pause, her sharp intake of breath, and a soft laugh that couldn’t mask what lay underneath.
“Jesus, I feel like shit.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.”
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s just the thought of another round of this next month makes me want to die. I mean, seriously. I’m actually surprised that I’m saying this but maybe they should just cut that fucking thing off and be done with it. I could get a prosthetic. I could still wear bikinis.”
“They make those? Prosthetic breasts?”
“Yeah. You can pretty much get a prosthetic anything these days.”
Perry could tell she was crying and trying to hide it. He could smell the steaks cooking on the grill, could hear Kat humming tunelessly to herself out on the patio.
“I know it sucks now but it will all work out. You won’t need a prosthetic anything.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’m being depressing. Let’s say good night.”
“Love.”
“Love.”
—
They ate their steaks out on the patio. There was no furniture, so they sat on the bare concrete with their plates balanced on their laps, cutting their meat while a dusky swarm of moths batted around the single halogen bulb.
“We’ve been doing this for a long time now,” he finally said.
“Yes. This is our seventh year. And?”
“And, it’s funny to think that we existed, us together, before either of our marriages.”
“So?”
“Doesn’t that beg the question, which is the marriage, which is the affair?”
“I married John at the First Church of Christ in Hardin. We live together. Every day. That’s the marriage. Don’t be dumb, General.”
Kat was right, of course. She had a smear of steak juice on her upper lip. Perry thought that that was unbearable.
Later, she emerged from the bathroom in a one-piece dress of white beaded deerskin, cinched at the waist with a wide, quill-stitched belt. Her face was scrubbed clean without paint, and she had used a thin plait of her own hair to tie the rest back into a ponytail. The dress was short and ended in fringe at her upper thighs. Strong thighs, horse-squeezing thighs. The dress was new. A new thing for them.
“Christ, you are beautiful.”
“Sha, yousay.”
And then she straddled him on the bed. Rode him like she had stolen him and god himself was in pursuit.
—
After another hot day on Last Stand ridge, Perry spent an hour posing for photographs with tourists. He put his arms around two rotund sixty-something women and they all smiled for the photographer.
“We are twins,” one of them said. “And we’re from Michigan. Did you know Custer was from Michigan himself?” Perry smiled behind his mustache and made a show of examining the women. He thought they only looked like twins the way all fat older women looked like twins. He wanted a beer, he wanted a steak, and he wanted Kat’s head in his lap. “We love Custer trivia,” one of the twins said. “Did you know he graduated from West Point at the top of his class and would probably have been made president one day had his career continued on its natural path?”
“I did know that. In fact I have a PhD in Custer studies, and my dissertation was a theoretical projection of the scope of American politics had Custer survived the battle and gone on to be elected president.” Perry thought this to be sufficiently lofty to discourage further conversation.
“Oh, how interesting! Did you know that Custer had size-twelve feet and was married to Elizabeth Bacon?”
Perry was developing a headache. There was a shimmer of heat out over Last Stand ridge, and he could feel hot rivulets of sweat roll from his underarms.
“I did know that,” he said, “now I have one for you ladies. Did you know that
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