printed in your genes, to let you live to four times the age you are now. We can only encourage you with our company and, of course, the weather, food, and wine.”
“Is the fountain of youth bottled, then?”
“No, no.” She laughed quietly. “There is no such medicine, no cure. We only supplement what God gave you first. Some people never have colds, never break bones, don’t get headaches, drink without getting hangovers, climb mountains without having to stop to rest, remain passionate beyond belief, all God-given. Our gift from Darwin’s God or God’s Darwin is simply being part of a moveable feast of inheritance moving upstream against death. Oh, Lord.” She laughed quietly. “How can moveable feasts swim upstream? But you know my meaning. You refuse that dark tide that sinks down into night. Otherwise you would not be here, listening to a fool.”
“Beloved fool, crazed lady, beautiful lunatic,” he murmured.
“Now, let me give you the final explanation for myself and all the friends whom you have met here. The great ‘medicine’ was finding that we were alive and loving it. We have celebrated every day of our lives. The celebration, the exhilaration, of worshipping the gift, has kept us young. Does that sound impossible? By simply knowing you’re alive and looking at the sun and enjoying the weather and speaking it every moment of your existence, this ensures our longevity. We live every moment of our existence to the fullest, and that is a superb medicine. In that way we refuse the darkness. Now think of what I’ve said and tell me about your future.”
He lay back and scanned the ceiling for answers. “Good grief!” he said. “I don’t know. I’ve got obligations back home. Many friends. Mother and father both still alive. A woman I’ve been almost engaged to for two years—two years—think about it! I’ve been dragging my feet, taking advantage, typical male. So many loose ends, knots to be tied, goodbyes to be said. I’ve just started thinking and don’t know what to think. I know that I love this town, these people, and you. God, I’m in the midst of love and am afraid to fall further. It’s too much in a few days.”
She waited and saw an outline of her future on the ceiling, also. “I will not be the cat on your chest that inhales the air you need to breathe,” she said. “But you must decide. And I have saved one final thing for last. If you stay you will be in many ways the center of our existence. You will definitely be the center of mine. Because, as you well know, there have been no children born in this town for a long, long while.”
“And soon,” he put in at last, “the first new child must be born and someone must be the father. Perhaps that father is me.”
“Perhaps you already are.” She placed her hands upon her stomach, as if trying to sense a presence. “Perhaps you are.”
“That would be quite a responsibility,” he said.
“So,” she said, “I’ve put a big burden on you. I must let you go and hope that you will return. But you must decide soon. We won’t be here much longer, soon the town will be gone. We’re leaving.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes. It’s happened many times before, before Summerton even existed. We carry our homes in our heads. All across country, from Providence to Kansas to points farther west. If we can’t save this town, we’ll burn it and scatter the ashes. We won’t be revealed again. The bullies must never know we exist.”
“Oh God,” he whispered. “It is a burden. Let me sleep. Sometimes in dreams I find answers.”
“Sleep then,” she said.
“You,” he said. “Not the weather, not the genetics, you, dear Nef,” he paused, “are my fountain of youth.”
“Let me make you young again,” she said.
And sealed his mouth with hers.
CHAPTER 28
He slept and he dreamed.
He was on the train, going east, and then suddenly he was in Chicago, and even more suddenly, he was in front of the Art
“Is the fountain of youth bottled, then?”
“No, no.” She laughed quietly. “There is no such medicine, no cure. We only supplement what God gave you first. Some people never have colds, never break bones, don’t get headaches, drink without getting hangovers, climb mountains without having to stop to rest, remain passionate beyond belief, all God-given. Our gift from Darwin’s God or God’s Darwin is simply being part of a moveable feast of inheritance moving upstream against death. Oh, Lord.” She laughed quietly. “How can moveable feasts swim upstream? But you know my meaning. You refuse that dark tide that sinks down into night. Otherwise you would not be here, listening to a fool.”
“Beloved fool, crazed lady, beautiful lunatic,” he murmured.
“Now, let me give you the final explanation for myself and all the friends whom you have met here. The great ‘medicine’ was finding that we were alive and loving it. We have celebrated every day of our lives. The celebration, the exhilaration, of worshipping the gift, has kept us young. Does that sound impossible? By simply knowing you’re alive and looking at the sun and enjoying the weather and speaking it every moment of your existence, this ensures our longevity. We live every moment of our existence to the fullest, and that is a superb medicine. In that way we refuse the darkness. Now think of what I’ve said and tell me about your future.”
He lay back and scanned the ceiling for answers. “Good grief!” he said. “I don’t know. I’ve got obligations back home. Many friends. Mother and father both still alive. A woman I’ve been almost engaged to for two years—two years—think about it! I’ve been dragging my feet, taking advantage, typical male. So many loose ends, knots to be tied, goodbyes to be said. I’ve just started thinking and don’t know what to think. I know that I love this town, these people, and you. God, I’m in the midst of love and am afraid to fall further. It’s too much in a few days.”
She waited and saw an outline of her future on the ceiling, also. “I will not be the cat on your chest that inhales the air you need to breathe,” she said. “But you must decide. And I have saved one final thing for last. If you stay you will be in many ways the center of our existence. You will definitely be the center of mine. Because, as you well know, there have been no children born in this town for a long, long while.”
“And soon,” he put in at last, “the first new child must be born and someone must be the father. Perhaps that father is me.”
“Perhaps you already are.” She placed her hands upon her stomach, as if trying to sense a presence. “Perhaps you are.”
“That would be quite a responsibility,” he said.
“So,” she said, “I’ve put a big burden on you. I must let you go and hope that you will return. But you must decide soon. We won’t be here much longer, soon the town will be gone. We’re leaving.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes. It’s happened many times before, before Summerton even existed. We carry our homes in our heads. All across country, from Providence to Kansas to points farther west. If we can’t save this town, we’ll burn it and scatter the ashes. We won’t be revealed again. The bullies must never know we exist.”
“Oh God,” he whispered. “It is a burden. Let me sleep. Sometimes in dreams I find answers.”
“Sleep then,” she said.
“You,” he said. “Not the weather, not the genetics, you, dear Nef,” he paused, “are my fountain of youth.”
“Let me make you young again,” she said.
And sealed his mouth with hers.
CHAPTER 28
He slept and he dreamed.
He was on the train, going east, and then suddenly he was in Chicago, and even more suddenly, he was in front of the Art
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