Read Online The Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac by Sharma Shields - Free Book Online Page B

practice in Lilac City, and they’d purchased a handsome house, and he’d given her an enormous diamond ring that she enjoyed showing around. He seemed perched on the edge of success, and it was the sort of success that Gladys wanted. Besides, she’d reasoned to herself, aren’t all men strange? Don’t all men have disagreeable hobbies? Some men frequented seedy bars and flirted with loose women. Some men drank too much and beat their wives. At least, for all of his strangeness, Eli was a loyal husband and prodigious provider.
    And so it was a conscious—and erroneous, she saw now—decision to accept and even encourage his interests. It was a boyhood hobby, nothing more. She pretended to find it endearing when he returned from the library late in the evenings with a few Xeroxed articles from the Seattle P-I, from The Wenatchee World or The Lilac City Monitor, mentioning in some small way a random (purported) sighting. Twice a year he left town to camp in the Selkirks, to spend a week combing the densely treed hillsides for evidence. He even made molds from these footprints, a few of which sat hidden away in his den (she would not permit them in the dining or living room), chunky monoliths that Gladys dusted once a week with a resolute wifely cheerfulness. It was nonsense, but she allowed it, mainly because he kept it to himself and for the most part didn’t bring it up at dinner parties or bridge games.
    When he did bring it up, it was keenly embarrassing. For a time he became obsessed with the Patterson-Gimlin film, which he called Patt-Gim. They had watched the interview on late-night television. Eli had grown so agitated during the interview that he spilled his Tom Collins all over the new tan club chair. Gladys had gotten down on all fours to scrub the fabric clear of lemon and sugar, but Eli remained on his feet, staring at the television with a look of complete madness. The next night, at a dinner party with one of his partners, he brought up Patt-Gim and spoke passionately about it for a few minutes, all while his colleagues and their wives smiled into their drinks. One of the wives caught Gladys’s eye and grimaced pityingly. Gladys was beside herself with anger and frustration. Rattled, concerned, she berated Eli on the way home for his puerile behavior.
    â€œPeople don’t believe in your monsters,” she said as he drove. “It’s humiliating.”
    â€œHominids,” he corrected. “Or hominins, maybe. But not monsters, Gladys.”
    She had never been so annoyed with him. They went inside, paid the babysitter, and readied for bed. Gladys had given him the cold shoulder for the rest of the short evening, although, as usual, he failed to notice.
    But now Gladys wished she had fought him harder, had killed the conversation then, before it all went too far. She looked at him and saw a dreaming little boy. She was exhausted by his silliness. She wanted to slap him.
    â€œWe’re on the cusp of greatness,” Eli pressed. “He’s out there, waiting to be discovered. Clever fellow, evasive but waiting for us, whether he knows it or not.”
    Gladys put her palms over her ears. “Stop talking, please. I have a terrible headache.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to be ashamed of, Gladys,” he said. “This is science. It’s about discovery. Self-discovery, even. The more we know about Sasquatch, the more we’ll know of one another. I wish I was out there, filming my own footage. I wish I could get my hands on that footage, to watch it again. It just replays endlessly in my mind. An endless loop.”
    What could she do? Other than chide and beg, which only added to the humiliation, there was no sure way to shut him up. She was the wife. It was her job to support him, to get out of his way, or, at the very least, to give the impression of supporting him, et cetera. Their future was in her hands. She would have to say something