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.
Okay, Irene said, and she went for the can opener, her hand a bit shaky, just a bit. Not something Rhoda would see. She opened up two cans of chili, emptied them into a pot and lit the burner. Then she stood there and stared into the chili, stirred occasionally with a spoon. The sound of the burner. She didn’t want to think of herself as a terrible mother. Not on top of everything else. What if everything going wrong with Gary was her fault, too?
I’m getting married, Rhoda said.
What? Irene turned and Rhoda rose from her seat.
Jim proposed, Rhoda said, and she showed Irene her ring.
Rhoda, Irene said, and pulled her close for a hug. This is wonderful. She held Rhoda close and didn’t want to let go. The beginning of the end for Rhoda, her life given and wasted on a man who didn’t love her. That’s what would happen, a cruel repetition of Irene’s life, and what could Irene say now? But Irene didn’t know anything for certain. That was the thing. Maybe Jim did love Rhoda, and maybe their marriage would be good, and maybe Rhoda would be happy.
Okay Mom, Rhoda finally said. I need to breathe.
Sorry, Irene said, and she let Rhoda go.
I’ll check the chili, Rhoda said, and she turned away from Irene to give a stir, poured it into two bowls.
Irene was surprised by how she felt. She wanted to be happy for Rhoda, but she didn’t feel happy at all. And she couldn’t let Rhoda see that. This is wonderful, she said again as Rhoda placed the two bowls on the table.
Thanks, Mom, Rhoda said. But she sat and looked down at her chili as she ate. She wouldn’t look at Irene. So Irene wasn’t hiding anything here. Rhoda could tell.
I’m sorry, Irene said. I just don’t want anything that’s happened to me to happen to you.
What are you talking about, Mom?
Can you look at me when we’re talking?
Rhoda looked up. Geez, Mom.
I’m sorry. I can’t seem to get along with anyone.
Well you might think about that.
How can I think about anything else? You’re my daughter. Rhoda was looking down again, and Irene hated that. I want you to be happy. That’s all.
Well that’s good, Rhoda said. Thank you.
Your father never loved me.
Rhoda put down her spoon and looked up again, annoyed. Mom, she said. We’ve talked about this before. You know that’s not true. Dad has always loved you.
That’s the thing, Irene said. He never has. He thinks he deserved someone better than me. He’s admitted that now, out in the tent. And he wanted to be left alone. That’s what’s true about him. I was just easy, something that happened, and it would have been a hassle to cut me loose. He’d prefer to be without me, but he’s never bothered to put together the effort to do that.
I’m not listening to this, Rhoda said. It’s just the pain in your head, and maybe this stupid cabin thing, too, having to live out there.
The pain has made everything clearer, Irene said. I can’t sleep, and it feels like I can’t even think, but for some reason, I’m seeing everything more clearly than I ever have before. Irene was leaning forward, both forearms on the table. She felt excited.
That’s really scary, Mom. You should listen to yourself.
Rhoda, you have to pay attention. What I’m telling you is important.
Mom. Rhoda was looking right at her now. You have to stop. Listen to yourself. You sound like a bag lady talking about aliens, like you have the secret and you’ve figured it all out.
A bag lady?
I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just that you sound like you’re going a little crazy. None of what you’re saying about Dad is true. He loves you. He’s always loved you.
Irene stood up. She was trembling. She grabbed her chili bowl and threw it at the window above the sink. A louder sound than she had expected as the glass shattered, but still not enough. Not satisfying at all. She wanted to bring the whole house down. He doesn’t love me, she said. I should know. I’m the one living it.
The window glass jagged, an open view now of trees and snow. The light strange, no clear sense of where the sun was, no direction for light or shadow, the snow reflecting. No sense of time. A day that could stretch on forever.
I don’t feel safe, Rhoda said. I think I need to leave.
Run away like the men, Irene said.
That’s not fair, Mom.
Fair. That’s funny.
That’s the problem, Mom. You’re sunk in some kind of pity fest. And you don’t fight fair. Throwing your bowl through the window. How am I supposed to respond to that?
You make it sound like it’s an act.
Well isn’t it?
You should stop now, Rhoda.
Here’s the truth, Mom. There’s nothing wrong with you. Your husband loves you. Your family loves you. And there’s nothing wrong with your head, either. You’re just freaking yourself out. Why are you doing this?
You don’t believe me?
No, I don’t. I don’t believe any of it.
Irene felt a strange calm then. Rhoda standing before her, worried, condescending, understanding nothing. And yet Rhoda was the person she was closest to in this world. She stepped forward and gave Rhoda a hug, held her tight. I’ll only tell you this once, she said quietly. I’m alone now.
Mom.
Shh. Just listen. If you don’t wake up, you’ll be alone like this too. Your life spent, and nothing left. And no one will understand you. And you’ll feel so angry, you’ll want to do far more than throw a bowl through a window.
Rhoda pushed away. What the fuck, Mom.
That’s all I have to offer you. Just the truth.
You’re scaring me, Mom.
Well maybe you’re starting to understand.
33
Everything was working against Gary now. Irene, the weather, time. Old troll brought her bow, said she wanted to hunt. Arrow tips wide fins of razor blade, a compound bow with pulleys, a frightening amount of power, and she seemed in dark enough a mind to consider using it on him.
The wind colder again, building. Another low-pressure system, hardly a break since the last. Gary had expected some warmer weather after the early storm. A kind of Indian summer. But this was starting to look like fall would be short. Another day below freezing.
Not another soul anywhere on this huge lake. The boat heavy with canned goods, loaded to the gunwales. A barge making its way slowly into white, the sky coming down.
All that held them was a hollow in the water, the theoretical weight of that, a depression in the surface. If they dipped an edge, the water would rush to fill the vacuum and they’d sink right to the bottom. Gary could feel the weight of the boat loaded down, could feel its desire to sink. The inanimate world full of intent, and Gary acutely aware how frail his life was. Waiting, hoping to pass safely, and he could do nothing more.
I could have loaded us down a bit less, he called out to Irene. We’re heavy.
Irene turned to look at him a moment, as hostile a presence as ever, then looked forward again.
A slow passage, so slow it felt almost like Gary’s will was all that was powering them, but finally he was able to turn toward shore. He came in slow, aimed carefully, but they were too heavy. They hit rocks fifteen feet out, stopped dead.
It’s not deep, Irene said. I’ll just get out here.
She was over the side and sank to her thighs. Not wearing waders. She grabbed a flat of chili, heavy he knew, and took a step toward shore then slipped and went down. Dropped the canned goods, went in to her shoulders, thrashing with her arms. Stood back up, dripping, and didn’t say a thing. Just grabbed another flat of cans out of the boat, stepped forward again and made it this time to shore. Entirely soaked and must have been freezing.