away.
So what to think of his situation as a divorced retired detective of over sixty-five? No answer was forthcoming and why should he sexually fast when Monica’s body was so slender and lively. What about her was the question? Was he doing her any harm? What about her malevolent family? He didn’t want to get his ass shot off for sex but he doubted that anyone in her family cared about him except for the NO TRESPASSING signs he intended to take down. He had a sudden insight into the absurdity of sexuality. When you trout fish all day from dawn to dark and forget to bring along your sandwich by evening you are ravenous with hunger. You finally get home and you cram the first thing in the refrigerator into your mouth, even a piece of dry, stale bread. You are quaking and beside yourself with hunger. Sex is like that. The body is suddenly out of control and the brain has fled to parts unknown. You are young and stupid again and the body wants only to mount the woman. You are a mere animal his gonads told him. Sex is the first bite of something good when you are starving.
Monica told him to leave the stew on very low heat and left for home. She kissed him goodbye which he appreciated. He was tired of his mind but it was too bright and shiny for good fishing, so he went on a two-hour walk ripping down NO TRESPASSING signs on the property border. When he was young he hated such signs. A downstater would buy ten, twenty, maybe forty acres of woodlands and post it for no reason. It defied freedom of movement. While he was tearing off signs near the road a pickup stopped with two older Ames men he hadn’t met yet. They were pleased he was removing the signs because otherwise the game warden would kick them off the property. They offered him a drink from a flask which he took with pleasure and said they were burying Lily at the cemetery at five o’clock if he wanted to stop by. One man who said he was Lily’s father said he would shoot Tom but maybe his bad legs were enough. Sunderson said, “That boy isn’t going to be walking.”
Back home he was distraught at the idea of Lily in the cold, cold ground and took a restless nap, waking at four and having coffee, a little of the delicious stew. He got to the cemetery early but the funeral home hearse was already there. An old man leaned against the front door and said that he had known Lily through his wife’s activities as a 4-H leader. “She was a fine young woman and this is a damned shame. The whole Ames family should be locked up in a madhouse.” He huffed and puffed, reddening, sorely vexed. Sunderson noticed the grave had been dug in the sandy earth and the straps to lower the casket lay across it.
Soon enough the three Ames pickups crowded with people showed up. Country people believed in pickups not cars. The Ames men carried the casket across the rumpled ground and on to the straps above the grave. The funeral director said a few words for lack of a preacher. “Our dear friend Lily was taken from us suddenly. May God hold this wonderful girl to his breast and console her for the violent failures of life.”
Monica came over and stood beside him holding his hand. She sobbed and he hugged her shoulder. The other children wept while the Ames men were sullen and stony. None of them looked at him though Monica said they were pleased that he took down the posted signs. The south end of his property was a deer route, deer being creatures of habit which sometimes gets them killed. Being creatures of routine also gets other animals in trouble, like us.
On the way home from the funeral his heart sank into his belly. There is a dreadful finality when a casket is lowered ever so slowly. No one can imagine what comes afterward if anything and our sense of injustice gets full play. Why should people who have suffered all of their lives die without justice? The most brutally simple statement in the human race is “it’s not fair.” He readily recalled the old Life
So what to think of his situation as a divorced retired detective of over sixty-five? No answer was forthcoming and why should he sexually fast when Monica’s body was so slender and lively. What about her was the question? Was he doing her any harm? What about her malevolent family? He didn’t want to get his ass shot off for sex but he doubted that anyone in her family cared about him except for the NO TRESPASSING signs he intended to take down. He had a sudden insight into the absurdity of sexuality. When you trout fish all day from dawn to dark and forget to bring along your sandwich by evening you are ravenous with hunger. You finally get home and you cram the first thing in the refrigerator into your mouth, even a piece of dry, stale bread. You are quaking and beside yourself with hunger. Sex is like that. The body is suddenly out of control and the brain has fled to parts unknown. You are young and stupid again and the body wants only to mount the woman. You are a mere animal his gonads told him. Sex is the first bite of something good when you are starving.
Monica told him to leave the stew on very low heat and left for home. She kissed him goodbye which he appreciated. He was tired of his mind but it was too bright and shiny for good fishing, so he went on a two-hour walk ripping down NO TRESPASSING signs on the property border. When he was young he hated such signs. A downstater would buy ten, twenty, maybe forty acres of woodlands and post it for no reason. It defied freedom of movement. While he was tearing off signs near the road a pickup stopped with two older Ames men he hadn’t met yet. They were pleased he was removing the signs because otherwise the game warden would kick them off the property. They offered him a drink from a flask which he took with pleasure and said they were burying Lily at the cemetery at five o’clock if he wanted to stop by. One man who said he was Lily’s father said he would shoot Tom but maybe his bad legs were enough. Sunderson said, “That boy isn’t going to be walking.”
Back home he was distraught at the idea of Lily in the cold, cold ground and took a restless nap, waking at four and having coffee, a little of the delicious stew. He got to the cemetery early but the funeral home hearse was already there. An old man leaned against the front door and said that he had known Lily through his wife’s activities as a 4-H leader. “She was a fine young woman and this is a damned shame. The whole Ames family should be locked up in a madhouse.” He huffed and puffed, reddening, sorely vexed. Sunderson noticed the grave had been dug in the sandy earth and the straps to lower the casket lay across it.
Soon enough the three Ames pickups crowded with people showed up. Country people believed in pickups not cars. The Ames men carried the casket across the rumpled ground and on to the straps above the grave. The funeral director said a few words for lack of a preacher. “Our dear friend Lily was taken from us suddenly. May God hold this wonderful girl to his breast and console her for the violent failures of life.”
Monica came over and stood beside him holding his hand. She sobbed and he hugged her shoulder. The other children wept while the Ames men were sullen and stony. None of them looked at him though Monica said they were pleased that he took down the posted signs. The south end of his property was a deer route, deer being creatures of habit which sometimes gets them killed. Being creatures of routine also gets other animals in trouble, like us.
On the way home from the funeral his heart sank into his belly. There is a dreadful finality when a casket is lowered ever so slowly. No one can imagine what comes afterward if anything and our sense of injustice gets full play. Why should people who have suffered all of their lives die without justice? The most brutally simple statement in the human race is “it’s not fair.” He readily recalled the old Life
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