hiking boot.
During lunch back at the hotel, Butler made a number of jokes about how well David was getting to know Beryl.
âHey, David,â Butler said. âYou get tired of guarding Beryl in that tiny little sunroof, Iâll take your place.â He made some clicking noises to show enjoyment. Butler smiled at Beryl as he said it, his thick lips curved. He didnât seem tense or embarrassed. He seemed to think sheâd enjoy the joke as much as any of them, perhaps even more.
Butler wore cologne. He smelled all the time of sweet musk and heat. He wore his shirtsleeves rolled back on his flat large forearms. Berylâs forearms were freckled, golden-haired and thin. At one time sheâd worked seriously at weightlifting,but although sheâd doubled the amount of weight she could handle, her arms only looked longer and more sinewy. The glistening heavy men in the health club could bench-press three times her body weight with sharp grunts of satisfaction. Sheâd moved about them with a constant sense of fear. Once one of them stepped backward laughing at a joke and slapped her hard into the cold metal web of a Nautilus machine. The man moved away and apologized but Beryl had still felt a hot flush covering her neck and arms. If Beryl and Butler had stood back to back, the top of her head would nestle neatly into the hollow between his shoulder blades.
Beryl looked at the other men for their response to Butlerâs joke. Sheâd be spending a month with them. She tried to look impassive. David looked uncomfortable. Butler laughed hard enough for them all. For a moment Jean-Claude looked away from the tundra to Beryl. In his brief glance she felt a connection, a message passed that she couldnât yet understand. Then he turned back, scanning for bears. His hands lay loose on the steering wheel. They hadnât let go the entire day.
Butler laughed awhile longer. He had one of those complete laughs that Beryl normally liked. The skin of his forehead rolled back as though he were surprised, his eyes opened and then his chest and shoulders began to shake up and down. He laughed like a young muscular Santa Claus. Beryl imagined him laughing like that and a girlfriend leaning up tight against him, blissful, shaking with his movement. Beryl hoped her own life would never depend on his judgment.
That afternoon it started to snow. The flakes fell thick and wet, covering the garbage of the dump with a pure layer of white. The bears moved through the snow, white on white. She saw them for the first time against a background other than old couches and broken glass. They merged into the blank beauty so that only the black triangles of their noses showed, their dark eyes. The snow muffled all sound except the wet squeaks beneath the pads of their feet and their heavy snorts as they stuck their snouts deep into the snow and sniffed for the scent of food.
When it got dark Jean-Claude drove them back to the hotel. Beryl sat by the window of her room watching the flakes twinkle down by the hotelâs spotlight. The snow flattened everything. It erased the cars, the road and the mailboxes. Houses became magical palaces of sugar and ice. She had always imagined the North Pole this way, only there would have also been elves working cheerfully and flying reindeer pawing restlessly in their stalls.
A car turned the corner, drove slow and cautious down the street. The polar bear police car. It had two spotlights and a siren on the roof. The spotlights circled patiently across the snow.
The next day the gleaming snow covered everything and danced in the wind, shimmering pure in the sun and thin air. The sky above glittered with the light hard blue of thick glass. That evening when she came in from staring out at the snow and bears, her eyes hurt, a slow headache built upfrom the base of her skull. She had a hard time adjusting to the relative darkness of the hotel and grazed her hand along the faded velvet
During lunch back at the hotel, Butler made a number of jokes about how well David was getting to know Beryl.
âHey, David,â Butler said. âYou get tired of guarding Beryl in that tiny little sunroof, Iâll take your place.â He made some clicking noises to show enjoyment. Butler smiled at Beryl as he said it, his thick lips curved. He didnât seem tense or embarrassed. He seemed to think sheâd enjoy the joke as much as any of them, perhaps even more.
Butler wore cologne. He smelled all the time of sweet musk and heat. He wore his shirtsleeves rolled back on his flat large forearms. Berylâs forearms were freckled, golden-haired and thin. At one time sheâd worked seriously at weightlifting,but although sheâd doubled the amount of weight she could handle, her arms only looked longer and more sinewy. The glistening heavy men in the health club could bench-press three times her body weight with sharp grunts of satisfaction. Sheâd moved about them with a constant sense of fear. Once one of them stepped backward laughing at a joke and slapped her hard into the cold metal web of a Nautilus machine. The man moved away and apologized but Beryl had still felt a hot flush covering her neck and arms. If Beryl and Butler had stood back to back, the top of her head would nestle neatly into the hollow between his shoulder blades.
Beryl looked at the other men for their response to Butlerâs joke. Sheâd be spending a month with them. She tried to look impassive. David looked uncomfortable. Butler laughed hard enough for them all. For a moment Jean-Claude looked away from the tundra to Beryl. In his brief glance she felt a connection, a message passed that she couldnât yet understand. Then he turned back, scanning for bears. His hands lay loose on the steering wheel. They hadnât let go the entire day.
Butler laughed awhile longer. He had one of those complete laughs that Beryl normally liked. The skin of his forehead rolled back as though he were surprised, his eyes opened and then his chest and shoulders began to shake up and down. He laughed like a young muscular Santa Claus. Beryl imagined him laughing like that and a girlfriend leaning up tight against him, blissful, shaking with his movement. Beryl hoped her own life would never depend on his judgment.
That afternoon it started to snow. The flakes fell thick and wet, covering the garbage of the dump with a pure layer of white. The bears moved through the snow, white on white. She saw them for the first time against a background other than old couches and broken glass. They merged into the blank beauty so that only the black triangles of their noses showed, their dark eyes. The snow muffled all sound except the wet squeaks beneath the pads of their feet and their heavy snorts as they stuck their snouts deep into the snow and sniffed for the scent of food.
When it got dark Jean-Claude drove them back to the hotel. Beryl sat by the window of her room watching the flakes twinkle down by the hotelâs spotlight. The snow flattened everything. It erased the cars, the road and the mailboxes. Houses became magical palaces of sugar and ice. She had always imagined the North Pole this way, only there would have also been elves working cheerfully and flying reindeer pawing restlessly in their stalls.
A car turned the corner, drove slow and cautious down the street. The polar bear police car. It had two spotlights and a siren on the roof. The spotlights circled patiently across the snow.
The next day the gleaming snow covered everything and danced in the wind, shimmering pure in the sun and thin air. The sky above glittered with the light hard blue of thick glass. That evening when she came in from staring out at the snow and bears, her eyes hurt, a slow headache built upfrom the base of her skull. She had a hard time adjusting to the relative darkness of the hotel and grazed her hand along the faded velvet
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