Read Online What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Stories by Raymond Carver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Raymond Carver
Ads: Link
around in the sun and listened. He gave the sheriff their names. They had nothing to hide. They weren't ashamed. They said they'd wait until someone could come for better directions and take down their statements.
I WAS asleep when he got home. But I woke up when I heard him in the kitchen. I found him leaning against the refrigerator with a can of beer. He put his heavy arms around me and rubbed his big hands on my back. In bed he put his hands on me again and then waited as if thinking of something else. I turned 'and opened my legs. Afterwards, I think he stayed awake.
He was up that morning before I could get out of bed. To see if there was something in the paper, I suppose.
The telephone began ringing right after eight.
"Go to hell!" I heard him shout.
The telephone rang right again.
"I have nothing to add to what I already said to the sheriff!"
He slammed the receiver down.
"What is going on?" I said.
It was then that he told me what I just told you.
So Much Water So Close to Home
I S w E E P up the broken dishes and go outside. He is lying on his back on the grass now, the newspaper and can of beer within reach.
"Stuart, could we go for a drive?" I say.
He rolls over and looks at me. "We'll pick up some beer," he says. He gets to his feet and touches me on the hip as he goes past. "Give me a minute," he says.
We drive through town without speaking. He stops at a roadside market for beer. I notice a great stack of papers just inside the door. On the top step a fat woman in a print dress holds out a licorice stick to a little girl. Later on, we cross Everson Creek and turn into the picnic grounds. The creek runs under the bridge and into a large pond a few hundred yards away. I can see the men out there. I can see them out there fishing.
So much water so close to home.
I say, "Why did you have to go miles away?"
"Don't rile me," he says.
We sit on a bench in the sun. He opens us cans of beer. He says, "Relax, Claire."
"They said they were innocent. They said they were crazy."
He says, "Who?" He says, "What are you talking about?"
"The Maddox brothers. They killed a girl named Arlene Hubly where I grew up. They cut off her head and threw her into the Cle Elum River. It happened when I was a girl."
"You're going to get me riled," he says.
I look at the creek. I'm right in it, eyes open, face down, staring at the moss on the bottom, dead.
What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
"I don't know what's wrong with you," he says on the way home. "You're getting me more riled by the minute."
There is nothing I can say to him.
He tries to concentrate on the road. But he keeps looking into the rear-view mirror.
He knows.
STUART believes he is letting me sleep this morning. But I was awake long before the alarm went off. I was thinking, lying on the far side of the bed away from his hairy legs.
He gets Dean off for school, and then he shaves, dresses, and leaves for work. Twice he looks in and clears his throat. But I keep my eyes closed.
In the kitchen I find a note from him. It's signed "Love."
I sit in the breakfast nook and drink coffee and leave a ring on the note. I look at the newspaper and turn it this way and that on the table. Then I skid it close and read what it says. The body has been identified, claimed. But it took some examining it, some putting things into it, some cutting, some weighing, some measuring, some putting things back again and sewing them in.
I sit for a long time holding the newspaper and thinking. Then I call up to get a chair at the hairdresser's.
I SIT under the dryer with a magazine on my lap and let Mamie do my nails.
"I am going to a funeral tomorrow," I say.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Marnie says.
"It was a murder," I say.
So Much Water So Close to Home
"That's the worst kind," Marnie says.
"We weren't all that close," I say. "But you know."
"Well get you fixed up for it," Marnie says.
That night I make my bed on the sofa, and in the morning I get up
I WAS asleep when he got home. But I woke up when I heard him in the kitchen. I found him leaning against the refrigerator with a can of beer. He put his heavy arms around me and rubbed his big hands on my back. In bed he put his hands on me again and then waited as if thinking of something else. I turned 'and opened my legs. Afterwards, I think he stayed awake.
He was up that morning before I could get out of bed. To see if there was something in the paper, I suppose.
The telephone began ringing right after eight.
"Go to hell!" I heard him shout.
The telephone rang right again.
"I have nothing to add to what I already said to the sheriff!"
He slammed the receiver down.
"What is going on?" I said.
It was then that he told me what I just told you.
So Much Water So Close to Home
I S w E E P up the broken dishes and go outside. He is lying on his back on the grass now, the newspaper and can of beer within reach.
"Stuart, could we go for a drive?" I say.
He rolls over and looks at me. "We'll pick up some beer," he says. He gets to his feet and touches me on the hip as he goes past. "Give me a minute," he says.
We drive through town without speaking. He stops at a roadside market for beer. I notice a great stack of papers just inside the door. On the top step a fat woman in a print dress holds out a licorice stick to a little girl. Later on, we cross Everson Creek and turn into the picnic grounds. The creek runs under the bridge and into a large pond a few hundred yards away. I can see the men out there. I can see them out there fishing.
So much water so close to home.
I say, "Why did you have to go miles away?"
"Don't rile me," he says.
We sit on a bench in the sun. He opens us cans of beer. He says, "Relax, Claire."
"They said they were innocent. They said they were crazy."
He says, "Who?" He says, "What are you talking about?"
"The Maddox brothers. They killed a girl named Arlene Hubly where I grew up. They cut off her head and threw her into the Cle Elum River. It happened when I was a girl."
"You're going to get me riled," he says.
I look at the creek. I'm right in it, eyes open, face down, staring at the moss on the bottom, dead.
What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
"I don't know what's wrong with you," he says on the way home. "You're getting me more riled by the minute."
There is nothing I can say to him.
He tries to concentrate on the road. But he keeps looking into the rear-view mirror.
He knows.
STUART believes he is letting me sleep this morning. But I was awake long before the alarm went off. I was thinking, lying on the far side of the bed away from his hairy legs.
He gets Dean off for school, and then he shaves, dresses, and leaves for work. Twice he looks in and clears his throat. But I keep my eyes closed.
In the kitchen I find a note from him. It's signed "Love."
I sit in the breakfast nook and drink coffee and leave a ring on the note. I look at the newspaper and turn it this way and that on the table. Then I skid it close and read what it says. The body has been identified, claimed. But it took some examining it, some putting things into it, some cutting, some weighing, some measuring, some putting things back again and sewing them in.
I sit for a long time holding the newspaper and thinking. Then I call up to get a chair at the hairdresser's.
I SIT under the dryer with a magazine on my lap and let Mamie do my nails.
"I am going to a funeral tomorrow," I say.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Marnie says.
"It was a murder," I say.
So Much Water So Close to Home
"That's the worst kind," Marnie says.
"We weren't all that close," I say. "But you know."
"Well get you fixed up for it," Marnie says.
That night I make my bed on the sofa, and in the morning I get up
Similar Books
