Caribou Island
- Автор: Vann David
- Год: 2011
- Язык: испанский
- Год: Harper
- Жанр: Современная русская и зарубежная проза
Электронная книга - «Caribou Island». Краткое содержание книги:
But this island is not right for Irene. They are building without plans or advice, and when winter comes early, the overwhelming isolation of the prehistoric wilderness threatens their bond to the core. Caught in the emotional maelstrom is their adult daughter, Rhoda, who is wrestling with the hopes and disappointments of her own life. Devoted to her parents, she watches helplessly as they drift further apart.
Brilliantly drawn and fiercely honest, Caribou Island captures the drama and pathos of a husband and wife whose bitter love, failed dreams, and tragic past push them to the edge of destruction. A portrait of desolation, violence, and the darkness of the soul, it is an explosive and unforgettable novel from a writer of limitless possibility.
Fuckers, Jim said.
What’s that? asked the man behind the counter.
Oh. Sorry, Jim said. I’ll take some crab legs.
Then there was the problem of what to go with the legs. Nothing sounded good to Jim. He didn’t care if he never ate again. But he decided on a big salad. Rhoda liked salads. And he got all the goodies. Marinated artichoke hearts, pine nuts, cranberries, avocado, tomatoes, shaved Gruyère, the works. Then the fixings for Baked Alaska. Also some Ben and Jerry’s for backup, though not New York Superfudge Chunk. Cherry Garcia would work.
Jim slumped over his cart in the freezer section and just held on. His face down close to the lettuce. He wasn’t going to cry over her, ever. He had to focus on his breath, let it calm, slowly calm. He’d be all right. He was a dentist, after all. He made more than any of the other fucks around here.
At the moment, though, Alaska felt like the end of the world, a place of exile. Those who couldn’t fit anywhere else came here, and if they couldn’t cling to anything here, they just fell off the edge. These tiny towns in a great expanse, enclaves of despair.
He needed to pull himself together. There was no line at checkout, and he was home quickly, carrying his groceries to the kitchen. And it was only as he was putting the bags down that he realized there had been a change. He had been unfaithful, and even if he married Rhoda now, he had opened the possibility of other women, and he knew he would act on this. He would continue cheating. There was no way to stop it once it was possible. He would find other women, most likely his patients. Or his staff. He could advertise for another hygienist, another secretary to help with the front office. He could tell Rhoda he was doing this instead of bringing in another partner. A way to expand. But he’d be hiring an affair. That’s all he’d be looking for, one at a time, just hire and fire. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of that before. Rhoda would catch on eventually, but then he’d just move on to the next wife, if he had to, and the next set of affairs. None of it was a crime. And if he had her sign a prenup, there’d be no damage done.
The question, really, was what his life was about. He didn’t believe in God, and he wasn’t in the right field to become famous or powerful. Those were the three biggies: faith, fame, and power. They could justify a life, perhaps, or at least make you think your life meant something. All the crap about being a good guy, treating people well, and spending time with family was only crap because it had nothing to anchor it. There was no cosmic scorecard. Having kids seemed to work for some people, but not really. They were lying, because they’d lost their lives and it was too late. And money, by itself, didn’t mean anything. So all that was left was sex, and money could help with that.
Jim stood at the sink, washing lettuce, and realized this was it. He would devote his life to sex. Get in better shape and have as many women as possible. He wished he had discovered this earlier, before forty-one, because it would have been a lot easier earlier, but it still wasn’t too late. He had a good ten years at least before his life dissolved into something he didn’t care to think about.
He tore up the lettuce, cut tomatoes, sliced the avocado, threw in the other bits, got a pot of water ready for the crab legs, then had to stop because he didn’t know when she’d be home. And he decided to skip the Baked Alaska. Too much effort.
22
Carl spent all day at the Coffee Bus. Karen gave him free coffee, and when she found out he had no money, gave him free sandwiches, also. He sat against the side of the bus, a backpack on either side. Nodded hello to the customers and wrote postcards. He wrote one of them to himself.
Dear Carl, Hoping to see you again soon. You seem a little lost. It’s been a while since we talked. I think we have to admit at this point that things are not going well. We both have dreams, but are they leading us in the same direction? Ha ha, Carl.
Carl filled in his address and decided to send it along with the other cards. All of this assumed he’d have enough money at some point to buy stamps. He was waiting for Mark to show up so he could ask for a job.
But Mark did not show up, and at 8:00 p.m., Karen locked the bus.
Fishing ended at seven, Karen said. But they have to get to the dock and unload. Be a while before he shows up, so I’ll just bring you home and you can talk with him there.
Thank you, Carl said, and climbed into her VW with the backpacks.
Where’s Monique?
Carl had been sitting here all day with the two packs, so it was odd that Karen was asking now.
Dumped me, he said.
Karen nodded and pulled onto the road. Sorry about that.
It was inevitable, Carl said. She never liked me. But she could at least come pick up her stuff. Seems a little rude to have me schlep it around.
Yeah, Karen agreed. Then she mumbled to herself. Whisperings and head jerks, low grumbles, aha expressions, the whole bit, like a full conversation with another person. Carl sitting in the seat beside her, only a few feet away, completely ignored. He wondered whether she was on something, or damaged in some way. He hadn’t noticed this about her before. But he didn’t want to interrupt.
Karen drove a slalom course on the gravel road to the lake. Drift to the right side of the road, then a small jerk and drift to the left, then back to the right again. Carl was grateful to arrive.
Karen went in and started cooking, off in her own world. Carl carried the packs one at a time and settled in the living room. Unfinished plywood floor, an old and dirty couch, but comfortable enough. The air surprisingly cold. No heat or insulation, the wind coming in from somewhere. Carl had taken off his jacket but he put it back on, flipped the hood up. Same as being outside.
Carl was hungry. The sandwiches and coffee not enough. A kind of torture to sit here on the couch, knowing food was nearby. He couldn’t just get up and grab a snack. There had to be some smoked salmon. Food within reach but untouchable, though in her mutterings would she even notice?
Mark finally drove up and walked in.
My brother from another planet, he said to Carl. Hail.
Avast, Carl said, trying to rise to the occasion.
Did you bring Monique?
She dumped me.
Ah, Mark said. Have you heard my calculus joke?
No.
E to the X is walking down the street with C, and they run into an integration sign.
What?
You didn’t take calculus?
No.
Well never mind, then. It’s a long joke. I told it to a girl at the cannery today, though, and she got it. She speaks five languages.
Sorry, Carl said.
Mark went over to hug Karen, and they had some odd little ritual involving ear massage. Apparently Mark’s ears got cold on the boat and Karen’s hands were exceptionally warm. Too embarrassing to watch, so Carl sat down on the couch again, facing the other way. He could hear slurpings and murmurings but tried to just look at the trees and bits of lake between the trees.
Carl felt how poor he was. He had to sit here because he had nowhere else to go. If you were poor, you had to ask favors and hang out and wait and spend time with people you didn’t want to spend time with. All the while, you were essentially invisible. Carl was not going to do this anymore. He was going to change his major, even if it meant an extra year of college. And he was going to tell Mark about Jim and Monique. That was the one weak spot of the rich. They had secrets.
Mark finally made it over to the couch, finished with the ear massaging and whatever else. Hombre, he said. There’s a guy at the cannery who can say “Who farted?” in eight languages.