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.
Irene at home, looking around at everything, didn’t know what to take. The lights were off, neither of them in the habit now of turning on light switches. Portraits of her family on the walls. Old portraits, including family she had never met. Stern faces, living more difficult lives. Photo albums on the lower shelf of the bookcase. Her children’s art from all the years, handprints to color by numbers to Mark’s drums made of elk hide and cottonwood. He’d sawn rings from hollowed-out stumps. Held summer solstice rituals here with his friends in high school, drumming all night around a fire on the beach, dancing with a bear skull on a stick. The last that she had known him, before he went off into his own life.
Rhoda had not gone as far away, but every wall held a sign of when she had still lived here, when their lives had been spent together. Even the secretive times, in junior high, when she’d first started having sex, were recorded here, in photos of dances and posters for school plays. All those years together added up to something, right? But what could be taken to an unbuilt cabin, to a tent? This place in its entirety, the walls and windows, the yard and forest, all of it would have to be moved.
I can’t do this, she said to Gary. She could hear him bumping around in the bedroom as he packed more clothing into a duffel.
What?
She raised her voice. There’s nothing I can take that will make that cabin a home.
I think you’re making this more complicated, Irene. We’re just grabbing our stuff, then we’re going to town for the sheeting and more two-by-fours and a few other supplies, then trying to load up and get back out there before dark.
Today?
What?
You’re planning to go back out today?
Yeah, that was the plan.
That wasn’t the plan. You didn’t bother to tell the help.
Irene.
I’m spending tonight here, in my bed. If you go, you’re going without me.
Gary emerged from the bedroom, stood in front of her. The weather could get bad again, he said. This is our window. This is the time.
I’m not going today.
Gary slammed his hand on the counter. Fine, he said. Then he turned around and went back into the bedroom.
Irene sat down on their couch. Ringing in her ears, her blood pumping hard. She tried to calm, and her heartbeat slowed a bit, but then it clenched tight four or five beats, moments when she could feel its exact shape, hanging from its arteries, jerking in her chest. Panic. Panic as if she were about to be killed, and yet she was only sitting on a couch in her own living room. The light soft from outside, no wind, no storm, just another gray, overcast day, her husband in the other room, and they weren’t going back to the tent tonight. She needed to calm down.
If we can’t make it a home, why are we doing it? she called out to Gary.
No answer. Because his life was the given, beyond question. Hers was the accompaniment; it didn’t really matter.
Irene lay out fully on the couch, propped her head with a small pillow, closed her eyes and spun in blood. Beating endlessly, pressurizing, her body a hard case she wanted out of. She wanted peace. Not to be trapped anymore. Trapped in this body and with Gary in this life and its regrets. Her life an accumulation of all that was closing in, fronts gathering all along the edges, coming closer. Even getting through the next five minutes.
Gary, she called out. She wanted to warn him.
Yes? His voice so ungenerous. How could she say what she needed to say? That they were going too far. That something would be lost. That they wouldn’t recover from this.
Never mind, she said. Closed her eyes again and rested, the air around her sifting downward until she heard the popping of gravel outside, someone driving up. She hoped it would be Rhoda, but didn’t go to the door. She didn’t feel like moving.
Mom, Rhoda called.
Here on the couch.
Rhoda at her side then, leaning down to give her a hug. Warm and alive, real love, not the grudging love of Gary. Flesh of her flesh, the only permanent bond. A marriage could turn into nothing, but not this.
I’m getting you a satellite phone, Rhoda said. I couldn’t stand not knowing if you were okay.
Hey rents, Mark said from the doorway. How goes the frontier life? He switched on the lights. The miracle of electricity, he said.
Hey Mark, Gary called from the bedroom.
Are you sick, Mom? Mark came over to the couch.
Just resting.
Holding court, Gary said, passing by to the kitchen.
A crime, I suppose.
You two have to stop fighting, Rhoda said. You’re getting a little cabin fever, I think.
Ha, Irene said.
Don’t start, Irene.
Well it’s nice to have all four of us here, Irene said, and got up off the couch, felt dizzy. When’s the last time that happened? she asked. And when will it ever happen again? This may be the last time we’re all here as a family.
That’s not true, Mom, Rhoda said. You won’t be in the cabin forever.
Ask your father. But we should have something to eat. Some lunch. We should all sit down at the table.
I need to get the sheeting, Gary said. And the joists.
After lunch, Irene said.
I need to go now. I need to get this done.
Irene walked over to the cupboards, found a couple cans of chili. Gary standing beside her at the counter, writing a list. I’ll just heat these up, she said.
Look. I don’t have time.
C’mon Dad, Rhoda said. It’s just lunch.
All the obstacles to a man’s work, Mark said.
Gary walked into the bedroom and came out with his jacket. Angry and impatient as always. I’ll be back in a couple hours, he said. We can have dinner together. And then he walked out, long strides to his truck.
Huh, Mark said. I would have offered to help. And I can’t come back for dinner. I need to return this boat.
Irene gave Mark a hug, but he was uncomfortable, pulling away quickly. I’ll be fine, he said.
Sorry, Irene said.
It’s all good, Mark said, but he was edging for the door. What made the men run? They could have had lunch together. Was that too much to ask? To be a family for an hour?
How’s Karen? Irene asked.
Mark’s lopsided grin, holding back. You never ask about her, Mom. You don’t like her.
That’s not true.
Yeah it is.
He’s right, Mom, Rhoda said. You always avoid her.
This isn’t true. None of it. I only want you to be happy, and if you’re happy with her, then that’s great.
But you don’t actually like her, Mark said. That’s my point. You think she’s dumb.
This isn’t true. Why would you think that?
Whatever, Mark said. It’s fine. I need to go.
Stay for lunch, Rhoda said.
I promised I’d return the boat. I need to get back.
Running away, just like your father, Irene said. Why can’t you stay? It’s just lunch. Why do the men in the family always run?
I don’t know, Mark said. Maybe because we’re creeped out? If I stay even one minute longer, I’ll scream. I don’t know why that is, but that’s just the way it is. Sorry. It’s nothing personal. And he had the door open now, escaping.
Nothing personal? Irene asked.
Later, Mark said, and he shut the door behind him. Irene went to the window, watched him walk away fast to his truck and boat.
She felt Rhoda then behind her, arms around her. It’s okay, Mom.
Irene watched Mark drive away. She didn’t understand what had just happened. I’m a terrible mother, she finally said.
No, Mom.
I don’t think I knew that until now, Irene said.
Mom, it’s just Mark.
But you said yourself that it’s me. I avoid Karen. That’s true. I don’t like her. I do think she’s dumb. And Mark knows that.
Rhoda let go then and sighed. She sat down at the table. Maybe we should have something to eat.