down-stretched the old legs a little. There was a light breeze.
“I dreamed last night that they published your book,” she said.
“Don’t start.”
She took my arm without another word, and we stood there surveying the countryside in silence. I watched a car go down the road in the distance, its headlights on. Suddenly it just disappeared. It took me a minute or two to unlock my jaw.
“What say we eat?”
When we got back, there was a badger furrowing in our garbage can. I’d never seen such a big one. We were about thirty yards from it. I took out my knife.
“Don’t move,” I said.
“Be careful.”
I lifted the blade above my head, then tore up the hill screaming at the top of my lungs. I tried to remember how you go about slaying a bear, but by the time I got there, the badger had slunk off into the night. I was glad it was him and not me. I threw a rock at him for good measure, to see his reaction.
This little episode gave me an appetite-I could have eaten a horse. I made some pasta with cream sauce. The day had completely exhausted me. There was no particular reason for this. It isn’t really so incredible that a guy should feel exhausted when he sees all the people who throw themselves out the window-or those who might as well. It’s quite normal, in a way. I didn’t worry about it.
After we ate, I smoked a cigarette and dozed off while Betty brushed her hair. I passed out cold. In the middle of the night I opened my eyes again. The badger was just outside the window-we stared at each other. His eyes gleamed like black pearls. I closed mine.
When we woke up the next morning the sky was cloudy. It got worse in the afternoon. We watched the clouds come, filling up every inch of sky. It was our last day. We pouted. It seemed like the land had suddenly shrunk. There was no more sound, as if all the birds and insects hopping through the grass had simply evaporated. The wind came up. We heard faraway thunder.
When it started raining we headed back inside the house. Betty made tea. I watched the earth steam outside, as the sky got blacker and blacker. It was one hell of a storm-the heart of it was less than a mile away. Bolts of lightning split the sky. Betty started to get scared.
“Want to play Scrabble?” I suggested.
“No, not really.”
Each time there was a clap of thunder, she froze stiff, her head tucked into her shoulders. Torrents of water pounded down on the roof. We had to talk loud to be heard.
“Anyway, the rain isn’t so bad, as long as we’re safe inside, and the tea’s still hot,” I said.
“Jesus, you call this rain? It’s a deluge!”
Actually, she was right. The storm was getting dangerously close. I suddenly knew that it was coming right for us-was out to get us. We sat down in the corner of the room, on the comforter. It felt like there was some huge creature beating himself against the house, trying to tear it out of the ground. Every so often the lighting from his eyes glared outside the windows. Betty drew her knees up to her chest and put her hands over her ears. Just perfect.
I was giving her a back rub, when a giant drop fell on my hand. I looked up-the ceiling was dripping like a sponge. We looked around us-the walls were wet. There were small puddles under the windows, and a tide of mud was trying to ooze in under the door. The house had turned into hell; surrounded by lightning, shaken by thunder. Instinctively, I put my head down. I knew that anything I might do would be futile. None of that Man- and-God-are-equals crap. I apologized for ever having thought such a thing.
When a drop fell on her head, Betty jumped. She glanced with horror at the ceiling, as if she’d just seen the devil himself. She pulled the comforter up over her knees.
“No… please, no…” she whimpered.
The storm had moved off by a few hundred yards, but the rain was coming even harder. The noise was infernal. She started crying.
As far as the roof was concerned, all was lost. I quickly estimated the number of leaks at around sixty. It was easy to see the turn things were taking. The floor was shining like a lake. I looked at Betty and stood up. To try to calm her down would be a waste of time. The only thing to do was get her out of there as quickly as possible, soaking or not. I grabbed a few essential items and put them in a bag. I buttoned my jacket up tight, then went to her. I got her on her feet without hesitation-without fear of breaking her. I lifted her chin up to look at me.
“We’re going to get a little wet,” I said. “But I think we’ll live through it.”
I gave her a look that could split concrete.
“Right?” I added.
I put the comforter over her head and pushed her toward the door, realizing at the last minute that I’d forgotten my transistor radio. I shoved it into one of the plastic bags from the supermarket and made a hole in the bottom for the handle. Betty hadn’t moved an inch. I opened the door.
We could barely see the car at the bottom of the hill through the curtain of rain. It seemed impossible to get to. The thunder galloped over us in waves-we couldn’t even see the sky. The noise was deafening. I leaned over to her.
“RUN FOR THE CAR!” I shouted.
I didn’t exactly expect her to take off like a rocket. I lifted her up and set her outside. I went to lock the cabin door, and by the time I turned back around she was already a fourth of the way down the hill.
It was like being under a shower, with both faucets going full blast. I stuffed the keys into my pocket, took a deep breath, and off I went. I hoped to avoid making the trip on my back this time-the ground was really slippery, covered by an inch of water.
No longer having a dry hair on my head, nor a dry anything else that might be considered as part of my body, I paid attention not to confuse speed with progress. I threw myself into the water works, the dogs of Hell barking at my heels, but I watched carefully where I put my feet.
Betty was way ahead of me-I saw her silver comforter zigzag toward the car like a sheet of aluminum. One more second and she’s home free, I said to myself. At that very moment, I slipped. I threw my left hand behind me and cushioned the fall. I threw my right hand out in front of me and managed to keep from falling forward. The transistor radio went sailing into a rock.
A huge hole appeared, with multicolored wires sticking out of it. I screamed. I swore. The thunder smothered my voice. I threw the radio out as far as I could, grimacing in impotent rage. I was disgusted. After that I didn’t hurry-nothing else could touch me.
I sat down behind the wheel of the ear. I put on the windshield wipers. Betty was sniffling, but she seemed to be doing better. She rubbed her head with a towel.
“I can’t say that I’ve seen many storms like this one,” I said.
Which was true-and this one had cost me a pretty penny. Still, I didn’t lose sight of the fact that we’d come out of it all right, with limited damage. Instead of answering me, she stared out the window. I leaned over to see what she was looking at. You could just barely make out the cabin on top of the hill, the rivulets of mud running down the slope. Good-bye, little lines of colored soil, and earth that glitters like diamond powder-good-bye to all that. What was left looked more like the mouth of a sewer, spewing out long streams of shit. I didn’t say a word. I started the car.
We rolled into town at nightfall. The rain had let up a little.
We came to a red light. Betty sneezed.
“How come we never have any luck?” she asked.
“Because we’re just a couple of poor unfortunates,” I snickered.
19
