Read Online Odds : A Love Story (9781101554357) by Stewart O'Nan - Free Book Online
Authors: Stewart O'Nan
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back in. The hotel next door was owned by the same resort, so he had to go to a currencyexchange where the rate was so bad that he decided to find an actual bank, and then he figured while he was at it he might as well turn the money into chips, which he showed her, dipping into his pocket and opening his hand.
In his palm sat five orange chips, a purple and a black.
“How much is that?” she asked.
“Six thousand American.”
“You’re like Jack with his magic beans.”
“Let’s hope so,” he said.
He put them in the safe, apologizing again. They’d only have to do it once more, tomorrow night, right before they played.
“I’m going to need you to do that,” he said, as if she might refuse.
“I can’t imagine it’s that hard. You just walk up and ask for some chips.”
“They’ll make you sign for it, but it’s completely legal.”
“Unlike what you just did.”
“That’s right, I’m an international criminal.”
“With a handful of magic beans.”
“I also have to pee.”
“I should too, before we go. How cold is it?”
“It’s not bad,” he said. “Maybe twenty?”
He’d thought they could take the scenic incline down to Table Rock, as they had on their honeymoon, but it was closed for the winter, and they had to retrace their steps and wait for a shuttle bus, which was so packed they gave their seats to an old Japanese couple. The driver had the heat blasting, and with nothing in her stomach, she felt clammy and feverish. It didn’t helpthat someone smelled like a cigar. She held on to the pole, bracing her legs every time they braked.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “I like this bus better than the last one.”
Outside, in the parking lot at the bottom of the incline, the cold spray revived her, needling her cheeks, and the Falls’ monolithic roar, all around them now. As they crossed the strip of park, the noise mounted. “You can really feel it,” Art said, patting his heart, and took her gloved hand in his. A clear skin of ice encased the tree branches and gas lamps and railings, the snow glazed to a shine. Only a crunchy scattering of salt kept the walkways clear.
They’d been here before, on this exact same path. Except for the weather, nothing had changed. Behind them rose the boxy seventies hotels and spiky observation towers. Ahead loomed the dour granite mock-Victorian welcome center like a museum, and the plaza overlooking the brink, teeming with drenched and happy tourists snapping away. The scene had the strange familiarity of a dream or fairy tale, as if the place had waited thirty years for them to return to learn their fate, the time in between a blink in the face of eternity.
What had she done with her life? For a moment she couldn’t think of anything. Become a wife and a mother. A lover, briefly, badly. Made a home, worked, saved, traveled. All with him. For him, because of him, despite him. From the start, because she was just a girl then, she’d thought they were soul mates, that it made them special, better than the other couples they knew. She’d learned her lesson. She swore she’d never be fooled again,not by anyone, and yet she’d fought for him as if he were hers, and then, having won, didn’t know what to do with him. Still didn’t. That was her fault, she freely admitted it, but after all, wasn’t the whole world held together by inertia?
They picked their way through the plaza, careful not to intrude on anyone’s pictures, and found an open spot at the rail. When the wind kicked up, the spray billowed over them, musty as lake water. She dried her sunglasses and put them back on, their lenses improving on nature, deepening the rainbow that rose from the lip of the Falls and dropped to the gorge below. Here, hard by the rushing current, with a view of the rapids upstream, she could appreciate this wasn’t just a river but a whole great lake pouring over a cliff. Feet from the edge, gulls stood on rocks as
In his palm sat five orange chips, a purple and a black.
“How much is that?” she asked.
“Six thousand American.”
“You’re like Jack with his magic beans.”
“Let’s hope so,” he said.
He put them in the safe, apologizing again. They’d only have to do it once more, tomorrow night, right before they played.
“I’m going to need you to do that,” he said, as if she might refuse.
“I can’t imagine it’s that hard. You just walk up and ask for some chips.”
“They’ll make you sign for it, but it’s completely legal.”
“Unlike what you just did.”
“That’s right, I’m an international criminal.”
“With a handful of magic beans.”
“I also have to pee.”
“I should too, before we go. How cold is it?”
“It’s not bad,” he said. “Maybe twenty?”
He’d thought they could take the scenic incline down to Table Rock, as they had on their honeymoon, but it was closed for the winter, and they had to retrace their steps and wait for a shuttle bus, which was so packed they gave their seats to an old Japanese couple. The driver had the heat blasting, and with nothing in her stomach, she felt clammy and feverish. It didn’t helpthat someone smelled like a cigar. She held on to the pole, bracing her legs every time they braked.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “I like this bus better than the last one.”
Outside, in the parking lot at the bottom of the incline, the cold spray revived her, needling her cheeks, and the Falls’ monolithic roar, all around them now. As they crossed the strip of park, the noise mounted. “You can really feel it,” Art said, patting his heart, and took her gloved hand in his. A clear skin of ice encased the tree branches and gas lamps and railings, the snow glazed to a shine. Only a crunchy scattering of salt kept the walkways clear.
They’d been here before, on this exact same path. Except for the weather, nothing had changed. Behind them rose the boxy seventies hotels and spiky observation towers. Ahead loomed the dour granite mock-Victorian welcome center like a museum, and the plaza overlooking the brink, teeming with drenched and happy tourists snapping away. The scene had the strange familiarity of a dream or fairy tale, as if the place had waited thirty years for them to return to learn their fate, the time in between a blink in the face of eternity.
What had she done with her life? For a moment she couldn’t think of anything. Become a wife and a mother. A lover, briefly, badly. Made a home, worked, saved, traveled. All with him. For him, because of him, despite him. From the start, because she was just a girl then, she’d thought they were soul mates, that it made them special, better than the other couples they knew. She’d learned her lesson. She swore she’d never be fooled again,not by anyone, and yet she’d fought for him as if he were hers, and then, having won, didn’t know what to do with him. Still didn’t. That was her fault, she freely admitted it, but after all, wasn’t the whole world held together by inertia?
They picked their way through the plaza, careful not to intrude on anyone’s pictures, and found an open spot at the rail. When the wind kicked up, the spray billowed over them, musty as lake water. She dried her sunglasses and put them back on, their lenses improving on nature, deepening the rainbow that rose from the lip of the Falls and dropped to the gorge below. Here, hard by the rushing current, with a view of the rapids upstream, she could appreciate this wasn’t just a river but a whole great lake pouring over a cliff. Feet from the edge, gulls stood on rocks as
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