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------- ------- ------- ------- The clam shell driveway crunched under Morris’s tires. The forest loomed beyond the reach of his headlights, and he smelled wood smoke from Harry’s stove. Morris, George, and William all had big houses. Harry lived with a thousand books and hundreds of classical CD’s in a beach shack at the far end of a sand road ------- Morris savored the darkness and the sound of wind in the pines for a moment. Then he began to pick his way up the icy walk. It was snowing. ------- “Look what blew in!” Harry called, as Morris stamped the snow off his feet. ------- “Hey, Harry. Hi, George.” ------- “There’s Goldkreutzer in the fridge,” Harry said. The kitchen table was crowded with bowls of salted nuts and plates of cheese and smoked fish. A Brahms trio was softly playing in the background. -------“William coming?” Morris asked. ------- “I think so. Hope he takes it easy in this weather.” -------A low chirp came from the metal box beside the door. A red light blinked. -------William opened he door a few minutes later and hung his alpaca coat on a peg. He took a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and settled into a comfortable chair. At eighty-seven, William was a testimonial to living well. ------- “What’s the word on the Beeman tract?” Morris asked him. ------- “Tied up in the courts. With any luck none of us will live to see it built up. How you doing, Harry?” ------- “Could be worse, old man.” -------They were in no hurry to get started. George had worked for an overseas consulting firm and had a million stories to tell. William called himself the gay financier and liked to talk about the market. Harry had done something for the Federal government. -------“Want to hear a tape of a Palestinian comic?” Harry asked. ------- “Will I be offended?” ------- “No, Morris,” Harry said. “He’s married to a Jew.” ------- Morris smiled. -------The comic sounded like an American. He told good-natured stories about life under the Israeli Occupation. The interviewer asked if there was a typically Palestinian joke, and the comic told about Arafat and his wife kissing on the beach. A cop gave them both tickets, and Arafat asked why his wife’s fine was bigger. “Yours is a first offence,” the cop explained. -------Morris laughed politely. -------“Is there a typical Jewish joke?” Harry asked. -------“I guess,” Morris said. “Isaac and Anna are chopping firewood on a cold morning, and Anna says she feels sick. Isaac says, ‘I’ll take you to the doctor as soon as we’re done.’ They finish chopping the wood, Isaac hitches the horse to the wagon, and they start for town. It’s begun to snow. They talk about their life together, and finally they ride in silence. After a while Isaac looks over at his wife and says, ‘Anna, why isn’t the snow melting on your face?’” ------- No one laughed. -------“That’s a joke?” Harry asked. ------- “Sort of,” Morris said. -------They played Scrabble for the thrill of killer points and for the words themselves. A word like clone might start a conversation that went on all evening. -------“What was that?” William asked, looking toward the window. -------“Raccoons,” Harry said. “Checking my garbage can. You’d think they’d learn.” -------Morris excused himself halfway through the third game after putting down a word. It was ten minutes before it was his turn again. -------“You fall in, Morrie?” Harry called out. The toilet flushed, and Morris came back. -------Morris won the game. They played two more. -------“’Perdure’?” George said doubtfully. -------“Means ’to survive’,” Morris said. “Look it up.” -------“I’ll take your word for it,” George said. “Thirty-six points!” -------They stopped for the evening at the end of the game. It was still snowing lightly. George and William thanked Harry and left. -------Morris stood at the window. “Something out there,” he said. -------He put on his hat and gloves and went outside, leaving the door ajar. He was back in less than a minute. -------“You better see this.” -------“What?” -------“Just come.” -------Morris led Harry to the body of a man, curled up on the ground near the edge of the woods. -------“Shot in the back of the head,” Morris said. “Gun in his hand wasn’t fired.” Morris stroked his chin. “How do you want to handle this, Harry?” -------“I don’t know, Morris. Go home, it’s my problem.” -------“Not entirely,” Morris said. “Got a plastic sheet?” -------Harry helped Morris wrap the body and stuff it into his trunk. -------“You sure you want to do this?” Harry asked. -------Morris shrugged. “Better look for his car.” ------- -------After the dead man and his car had been disposed of at a safe distance, Morris dropped Harry back at his house. Morris drove off, and Harry went inside for a flashlight. Snow had nearly covered Morris’s footprints where they led from the back door into the woods. Harry went inside again and hung up his coat. He stood at the card table and studied the Scrabble board. Perdure. ------- ------- 15 May 07 |