The Ice Queen
Page 53
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Every once in a while I would look at him.
“Stop that. Just concentrate on driving. Fuck it,” he added when we went into a ditch. There was a trailer and a fellow sitting outside. “Pull over,” Ned said.
He got out and spoke with the elderly man in the lawn chair. It looked as if this fellow had the same lawn chair I had. Acres’ Hardware. I guess it was a statewide chain. Ned and the old man shook hands and spoke a few words, then Ned came back to the car. “Five miles up. But the Dragon won’t talk to us without an introduction, so says the gentleman in the lawn chair.”
“What does that asshole know?”
I noticed the fellow was locking his door, heading for our car.
“That asshole’s the Dragon’s son.”
“Hey,” our new companion said as he got in the backseat. “I’m Joe.” He was about seventy years old. Minimum. “I’ll take you to see my dad.”
“We never had a father,” Ned said as I got back to driving. “Well, we had one, but he took off.”
“Son of a bitch,” Joe said, sympathetic to our plight. “My dad is right up the road.”
“Now I’m dying and leaving my own kid before he’s born,” Ned said.
My throat was drying up. That kind of talk could make you cry; you had to concentrate and start counting right away, or you’d lose it.
“That’s different.” Joe had lit a cigarette; I kept my mouth shut, even though it would be weeks before I could get the stink out of my car. “That’s not abandonment. You don’t want to leave, so you’ll probably linger.”
“Linger?” Ned said.
“In spirit.”
Shut up, old man, I wanted to say. I strained to be polite. This was too difficult. This couldn’t be about Ned. “We don’t believe in that.”
Joe leaned forward. “What do you believe in?”
We thought that over until Joe shouted, “Pull over now!”
We did, and nearly got stuck in a meadow of saw grass. It was sloppy, muddy stuff, but I found a dry place to park. There was the Dragon’s house, a cottage that looked a little like mine. When I’d stopped at the gas station I’d bought chips and soda. A little refreshment. Joe went on ahead to make sure his father was presentable, then he stuck his head back out the door.
“Come on,” Joe said.
“You’re giving a ninety-year-old man soda pop and potato chips?” my brother said.
“Oh, shut up.” I grinned. God, it was hot. “What should I bring? Pablum?”
“What do you want to bet he has no air conditioner,” Ned said.
At least there was an overhead fan, but it seemed to be spinning in slow motion. The Dragon of Jacksonville didn’t look much older than his son. Pretty spry, actually.
“You tracked me down,” the Dragon said. “I hope you brought me something to make this visit worth my while.”
He was sitting in an easy chair made out of fake leather. A good-looking old man. Still had his hair, lots of it, white.
I held up the chips and pop, and the Dragon nodded, pleased. He suggested that Joe serve us all drinks with ice.
“What about you?” he said to my brother. Ned looked at me. He hadn’t thought to bring anything. “That’s a nice watch,” the Dragon said.
Ned smiled, unclasped it, and handed it over.
“Tells good time,” Ned said.
“There’s no time like the present,” the Dragon said.
It was a joke, so we laughed appreciatively. We had Coke with ice and sat on uncomfortable stools. It was sweltering. The Dragon pulled up his undershirt and showed us where the lightning had struck first.
“Dead for fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds,” Joe said proudly. “I timed him.”
Then Joe took off his father’s slippers and showed us the Dragon’s feet. They were curled up like hooves. “Arthritis,” Joe said. “Runs in the family.” He showed us the marks on the soles.
“The lightning hit a tree, ricocheted, went along the ground, and struck him dead for fifty-five minutes flat the second time.”
“What was it like?” I asked the Dragon.
“Funny thing. It was just like this,” the Dragon said. “Like sitting here with you. Soon you’ll go away. That’s what it was. One minute it was one thing, the next it was something else.”
“And how did you come back?”
Ned elbowed me. I suppose I was being rude. But there wasn’t much time, was there? That’s why we were here.
“Stop that. Just concentrate on driving. Fuck it,” he added when we went into a ditch. There was a trailer and a fellow sitting outside. “Pull over,” Ned said.
He got out and spoke with the elderly man in the lawn chair. It looked as if this fellow had the same lawn chair I had. Acres’ Hardware. I guess it was a statewide chain. Ned and the old man shook hands and spoke a few words, then Ned came back to the car. “Five miles up. But the Dragon won’t talk to us without an introduction, so says the gentleman in the lawn chair.”
“What does that asshole know?”
I noticed the fellow was locking his door, heading for our car.
“That asshole’s the Dragon’s son.”
“Hey,” our new companion said as he got in the backseat. “I’m Joe.” He was about seventy years old. Minimum. “I’ll take you to see my dad.”
“We never had a father,” Ned said as I got back to driving. “Well, we had one, but he took off.”
“Son of a bitch,” Joe said, sympathetic to our plight. “My dad is right up the road.”
“Now I’m dying and leaving my own kid before he’s born,” Ned said.
My throat was drying up. That kind of talk could make you cry; you had to concentrate and start counting right away, or you’d lose it.
“That’s different.” Joe had lit a cigarette; I kept my mouth shut, even though it would be weeks before I could get the stink out of my car. “That’s not abandonment. You don’t want to leave, so you’ll probably linger.”
“Linger?” Ned said.
“In spirit.”
Shut up, old man, I wanted to say. I strained to be polite. This was too difficult. This couldn’t be about Ned. “We don’t believe in that.”
Joe leaned forward. “What do you believe in?”
We thought that over until Joe shouted, “Pull over now!”
We did, and nearly got stuck in a meadow of saw grass. It was sloppy, muddy stuff, but I found a dry place to park. There was the Dragon’s house, a cottage that looked a little like mine. When I’d stopped at the gas station I’d bought chips and soda. A little refreshment. Joe went on ahead to make sure his father was presentable, then he stuck his head back out the door.
“Come on,” Joe said.
“You’re giving a ninety-year-old man soda pop and potato chips?” my brother said.
“Oh, shut up.” I grinned. God, it was hot. “What should I bring? Pablum?”
“What do you want to bet he has no air conditioner,” Ned said.
At least there was an overhead fan, but it seemed to be spinning in slow motion. The Dragon of Jacksonville didn’t look much older than his son. Pretty spry, actually.
“You tracked me down,” the Dragon said. “I hope you brought me something to make this visit worth my while.”
He was sitting in an easy chair made out of fake leather. A good-looking old man. Still had his hair, lots of it, white.
I held up the chips and pop, and the Dragon nodded, pleased. He suggested that Joe serve us all drinks with ice.
“What about you?” he said to my brother. Ned looked at me. He hadn’t thought to bring anything. “That’s a nice watch,” the Dragon said.
Ned smiled, unclasped it, and handed it over.
“Tells good time,” Ned said.
“There’s no time like the present,” the Dragon said.
It was a joke, so we laughed appreciatively. We had Coke with ice and sat on uncomfortable stools. It was sweltering. The Dragon pulled up his undershirt and showed us where the lightning had struck first.
“Dead for fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds,” Joe said proudly. “I timed him.”
Then Joe took off his father’s slippers and showed us the Dragon’s feet. They were curled up like hooves. “Arthritis,” Joe said. “Runs in the family.” He showed us the marks on the soles.
“The lightning hit a tree, ricocheted, went along the ground, and struck him dead for fifty-five minutes flat the second time.”
“What was it like?” I asked the Dragon.
“Funny thing. It was just like this,” the Dragon said. “Like sitting here with you. Soon you’ll go away. That’s what it was. One minute it was one thing, the next it was something else.”
“And how did you come back?”
Ned elbowed me. I suppose I was being rude. But there wasn’t much time, was there? That’s why we were here.
