into each other like this, eight years later.”
Robin hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t just happen to be here.” She paused, raising her eyes very slowly. “I was hoping I’d see you.”
“You’re putting me on.”
“Really.”
“You read I was gonna be at this boat thing?”
“I took a chance.”
“This is amazing.”
“I couldn’t phone you—I don’t know why. I thought if we just happened to meet . . .”
“You sound different, you know it?”
Robin cocked her head to one side. “I do?”
“You’re quieter. You used to be so ballsy. You know the first time I ever saw you on campus? Youwere breaking windows in North Hall, the ROTC building.”
“The summer of ‘seventy,” Robin said. “We went to the Doors concert. . . . We went to the rock festival at Goose Lake. You remember that?”
Mark said, “Do I re mem ber? I think about it all the time, constantly. I mean, after Goose Lake what is there? What’s left you haven’t done?”
Robin said, “You had a pretty good time, uh?”
“Not bad,” Mark said, straight-faced, but couldn’t hold it. He was grinning now. “You remember I got Woody to rent the limo?”
“If I’m not mistaken I put you up to it.”
“You’re right. It was an outstanding concept—we drove right in, no problem.”
“I told you, like we were part of the show,” Robin said.
“Two hundred thousand people,” Mark said. “I think it was at that moment, driving in past everybody in that fucking stretch, I knew I would someday be in the entertainment business, produce shows of my own. I’ll never forget it.” The memory gave Mark a dreamy look.
Robin’s gaze moved. She saw Woody coming away from the people at the table, several trendy girls following behind.
Mark was saying, “Listen, why don’t you join us? We’re going to my brother’s for a little impromptu. Huh, what do you say?” There was anabrupt change in his tone, almost a plea, as he said, “Give us a chance to talk. Okay? Will you?”
She glanced at him and saw it in his eyes, Mark wanting to confide, tell her something. Then looked away again to see the full-length coyote coming toward them, weaving, veering off to one side a few steps, but not off balance. Robin watched Woody wrap a furry arm around the girl with short red hair and bring her along.
7
----
Chris was in the living room with the Sunday papers when his dad came in. His dad had a sportcoat and a parka over his arm and was wearing a dress shirt with the collar open, the tie hanging untied. Before closing the door he said, “You still here?”
“Where’m I gonna go? I don’t have a car.”
“I thought of it, you could’ve taken the Cadillac.”
“I have to get a car, find an apartment, start a new job. . . . I have to get an apartment before they find out at work I’m living here.”
His dad said, “I thought you were visiting.”
“You know what I mean.” Chris watched his dad drop the coats on a chair and come in stretching, yawning. “You stay at Esther’s again?”
“We got in late.”
“That’s two nights in a row.”
“We didn’t do anything,” his dad said, “if it’ll ease your mind any. We got back, stopped atBrownie’s for a couple and came home. We were bushed.”
“How was the cruise?”
“It was nice. You want a beer?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
His dad was heading for the kitchen. “Take a look, you’ll see the ship over at the marina.”
Chris got up from the sofa and went to a front window where his dad kept a pair of binoculars handy on the sill. He raised the glasses, made adjustments and swept the gray expanse of Lake St. Clair, overcast, Canada way off somewhere, hidden. Then brought the glasses down to the Jefferson Beach Marina, just north of the high rise. He heard a beer can pop open and his dad close behind him saying, “Go all the way out from Brownie’s to the end of the spit. You see it?”
“You can’t miss
Robin hesitated, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t just happen to be here.” She paused, raising her eyes very slowly. “I was hoping I’d see you.”
“You’re putting me on.”
“Really.”
“You read I was gonna be at this boat thing?”
“I took a chance.”
“This is amazing.”
“I couldn’t phone you—I don’t know why. I thought if we just happened to meet . . .”
“You sound different, you know it?”
Robin cocked her head to one side. “I do?”
“You’re quieter. You used to be so ballsy. You know the first time I ever saw you on campus? Youwere breaking windows in North Hall, the ROTC building.”
“The summer of ‘seventy,” Robin said. “We went to the Doors concert. . . . We went to the rock festival at Goose Lake. You remember that?”
Mark said, “Do I re mem ber? I think about it all the time, constantly. I mean, after Goose Lake what is there? What’s left you haven’t done?”
Robin said, “You had a pretty good time, uh?”
“Not bad,” Mark said, straight-faced, but couldn’t hold it. He was grinning now. “You remember I got Woody to rent the limo?”
“If I’m not mistaken I put you up to it.”
“You’re right. It was an outstanding concept—we drove right in, no problem.”
“I told you, like we were part of the show,” Robin said.
“Two hundred thousand people,” Mark said. “I think it was at that moment, driving in past everybody in that fucking stretch, I knew I would someday be in the entertainment business, produce shows of my own. I’ll never forget it.” The memory gave Mark a dreamy look.
Robin’s gaze moved. She saw Woody coming away from the people at the table, several trendy girls following behind.
Mark was saying, “Listen, why don’t you join us? We’re going to my brother’s for a little impromptu. Huh, what do you say?” There was anabrupt change in his tone, almost a plea, as he said, “Give us a chance to talk. Okay? Will you?”
She glanced at him and saw it in his eyes, Mark wanting to confide, tell her something. Then looked away again to see the full-length coyote coming toward them, weaving, veering off to one side a few steps, but not off balance. Robin watched Woody wrap a furry arm around the girl with short red hair and bring her along.
7
----
Chris was in the living room with the Sunday papers when his dad came in. His dad had a sportcoat and a parka over his arm and was wearing a dress shirt with the collar open, the tie hanging untied. Before closing the door he said, “You still here?”
“Where’m I gonna go? I don’t have a car.”
“I thought of it, you could’ve taken the Cadillac.”
“I have to get a car, find an apartment, start a new job. . . . I have to get an apartment before they find out at work I’m living here.”
His dad said, “I thought you were visiting.”
“You know what I mean.” Chris watched his dad drop the coats on a chair and come in stretching, yawning. “You stay at Esther’s again?”
“We got in late.”
“That’s two nights in a row.”
“We didn’t do anything,” his dad said, “if it’ll ease your mind any. We got back, stopped atBrownie’s for a couple and came home. We were bushed.”
“How was the cruise?”
“It was nice. You want a beer?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
His dad was heading for the kitchen. “Take a look, you’ll see the ship over at the marina.”
Chris got up from the sofa and went to a front window where his dad kept a pair of binoculars handy on the sill. He raised the glasses, made adjustments and swept the gray expanse of Lake St. Clair, overcast, Canada way off somewhere, hidden. Then brought the glasses down to the Jefferson Beach Marina, just north of the high rise. He heard a beer can pop open and his dad close behind him saying, “Go all the way out from Brownie’s to the end of the spit. You see it?”
“You can’t miss
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