“I never had champagne,” Paul said, “except that time at Susan’s.”
“It’s time again,” I said. I opened the bottle and poured each cup full.
“I thought the cork was supposed to shoot up in the air.”
“No need to,” I said.
Paul sipped the champagne. He looked at the glass. “I thought it would be sweeter,” he said.
“Yeah, I did too when I first tried it. It grows on you though.”
We were quiet, sipping the champagne. When Paul’s glass was empty he refilled it. The water skier called it quits and the lake was quiet. Some sparrows moved in the sawdust around the new cabin, heads bobbing and cocking, looking for food, now and then finding it. Grackles with bluish iridescent backs joined them, much bigger, swaggering more than the sparrows, with a funny waddling walk, but peaceable.
“When do we have to leave tomorrow?” Paul said.
“Early,” I said. “Eight thirty at the latest. We pick up Susan at eleven.”
“How long a ride to the school?”
“Four hours.”
“How come Susan’s going?”
“After we drop you, we’re going to have a couple of days together in the Hudson Valley.”
What breeze there was had gone. It was still, the sun was almost set. It wasn’t dark yet, but it was softer, the light seemed indirect.
“Do I have to have a roommate?”
“First year,” I said.
“When can I come home? Back home? To see you?”
“Any weekend,” I said. “But I’d stay around out there for a while. You need to get used to it before you come back. You won’t settle in if your only goal is to get out.”
Paul nodded. It got darker. The champagne was gone.
“It’s better than that place in Grafton.”
“Yes.”
“Everybody there will know everyone and know how to dance.”
“Not everybody,” I said. “Some. Some will be ahead of you. You’ll have to catch up. But you can. Look what you did in one summer.”
“Except I wasn’t catching up on anything,” Paul said.
“Yeah, you were.”
“What?”
“Life.”
The woods had coalesced in the darkness now. You couldn’t see into them. And the insects picked up the noise level. All around us was a thick chittering cloak of forest. We were alone at its center. The cabin was built and the champagne bottle was empty. Biting insects began to gather and swarm. The darkness was cold.
“Let’s go in and eat,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. His voice was a little shaky. When I opened the door to the cabin I could see in the light from the kitchen that there were tears on his face. He made no attempt to hide them. I put my arm around his shoulder.
“Winter’s coming,” I said.
