Read Online The State We're In: Maine Stories by Ann Beattie - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Beattie
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swiveled to see the empty room, the ocean-intense span of blue spread across the huge bed, the dresser mirror allowing her to see behind her to the pink sky darkening above whatever scene had been happening before that was now out of sight. Was September deer season? October?
Please let the plane not crash, she thought, going weak in the knees.
This was a habitual thought. More or less like prayer.
ENDLESS RAIN INTO A PAPER CUP
I t was July, Myrtis’s favorite month since school days, when it would seem the summer still stretched before you, and your tennis shoes were just the right soiled color with your toenails poking up the canvas, and the water had warmed up enough that you could swim in the ocean—though now she lived inland; there was no nearby ocean—and the hummingbirds were busily sucking nectar from the bee balm (red was the only color in the garden). The Fourth of July! Strawberries ripened in July and bathing suits went on sale. She still bought a new one every year to wear in the steam room at the gym; she hadn’t waded into the Atlantic in years, even on visits to Raleigh and Bettina. How she wished her daughter also saw summer as a magical time when the world overwhelmed you with its bounty, but Jocelyn seemed to notice little if anything about the environment in which she lived. She looked myopically at her friends, and from very close distance, they mirrored her expression of incomprehension or boredom, or they laughed about how ridiculous everything was, whether it be a buzzing bee or people working in a community garden. Her former husband’s idea of happiness and harmony with nature had been gambling amid potted plants in Atlantic City casinos.
She called Raleigh, as she’d promised she would, when she got the results from her blood test. It was late enough at night that Bettina wouldn’t even know she’d called. If she wanted real information about Jocelyn, her brother was a better bet than her sister-in-law, who didn’t really understand young girls and therefore projected even more negativity onto them than was there—if such a thing was possible. Raleigh had met Jocelyn’s teacher and pronounced her “very nice, quite intelligent.” That opinion could be relied on, more or less, factoring in that Raleigh rarely expressed doubts until after the fact, and that he liked young women. He’d been as mystified as the next guy by women when he was young and dating, but now he seemed to think the mere sight of one was as lovely as seeing the first robin of spring. As far as she knew, he’d never strayed in his marriage to Bettina, but who ever knew about such things when few birds and even fewer people mated for life. He picked up on the second ring. She could envision the blinking red button on the phone—an odd phone that flashed but never rang—so that of course he would not know someone was calling unless he was sitting in his study.
“Good news?” he said. The phone must also somehow indicate the caller’s identity.
“Inconclusive. I tested positive for antibodies to mono, so at some point I had it. It might have been a year ago when I thought I had flu. The test for Lyme came back okay, but something about it was borderline, and the doctor wants to repeat it in a couple of weeks. How’s my girl? How are you, for that matter?”
“I’d say she’s doing well. She’s bored here, of course, but I think it’s for the best. So would you say you’re feeling less tired?”
“I slept from one until four. That’s going to wreck my sleep tonight, but I was just so exhausted, I couldn’t stay awake. All I did today was take the car in for an oil change.”
He coughed softly, turning his head away from the phone. He said, “I came upon the key to Bettina’s diary. She was out, so I read a few pages.”
“She hid the key where you could find it?”
“In the bottom of the Excedrin bottle. Can you imagine? It was on a thin gold chain underneath the last of the pills. She
Please let the plane not crash, she thought, going weak in the knees.
This was a habitual thought. More or less like prayer.
ENDLESS RAIN INTO A PAPER CUP
I t was July, Myrtis’s favorite month since school days, when it would seem the summer still stretched before you, and your tennis shoes were just the right soiled color with your toenails poking up the canvas, and the water had warmed up enough that you could swim in the ocean—though now she lived inland; there was no nearby ocean—and the hummingbirds were busily sucking nectar from the bee balm (red was the only color in the garden). The Fourth of July! Strawberries ripened in July and bathing suits went on sale. She still bought a new one every year to wear in the steam room at the gym; she hadn’t waded into the Atlantic in years, even on visits to Raleigh and Bettina. How she wished her daughter also saw summer as a magical time when the world overwhelmed you with its bounty, but Jocelyn seemed to notice little if anything about the environment in which she lived. She looked myopically at her friends, and from very close distance, they mirrored her expression of incomprehension or boredom, or they laughed about how ridiculous everything was, whether it be a buzzing bee or people working in a community garden. Her former husband’s idea of happiness and harmony with nature had been gambling amid potted plants in Atlantic City casinos.
She called Raleigh, as she’d promised she would, when she got the results from her blood test. It was late enough at night that Bettina wouldn’t even know she’d called. If she wanted real information about Jocelyn, her brother was a better bet than her sister-in-law, who didn’t really understand young girls and therefore projected even more negativity onto them than was there—if such a thing was possible. Raleigh had met Jocelyn’s teacher and pronounced her “very nice, quite intelligent.” That opinion could be relied on, more or less, factoring in that Raleigh rarely expressed doubts until after the fact, and that he liked young women. He’d been as mystified as the next guy by women when he was young and dating, but now he seemed to think the mere sight of one was as lovely as seeing the first robin of spring. As far as she knew, he’d never strayed in his marriage to Bettina, but who ever knew about such things when few birds and even fewer people mated for life. He picked up on the second ring. She could envision the blinking red button on the phone—an odd phone that flashed but never rang—so that of course he would not know someone was calling unless he was sitting in his study.
“Good news?” he said. The phone must also somehow indicate the caller’s identity.
“Inconclusive. I tested positive for antibodies to mono, so at some point I had it. It might have been a year ago when I thought I had flu. The test for Lyme came back okay, but something about it was borderline, and the doctor wants to repeat it in a couple of weeks. How’s my girl? How are you, for that matter?”
“I’d say she’s doing well. She’s bored here, of course, but I think it’s for the best. So would you say you’re feeling less tired?”
“I slept from one until four. That’s going to wreck my sleep tonight, but I was just so exhausted, I couldn’t stay awake. All I did today was take the car in for an oil change.”
He coughed softly, turning his head away from the phone. He said, “I came upon the key to Bettina’s diary. She was out, so I read a few pages.”
“She hid the key where you could find it?”
“In the bottom of the Excedrin bottle. Can you imagine? It was on a thin gold chain underneath the last of the pills. She
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