John Moncure Wetterau

“ Sometimes you win; mostly you lose. In the end you lose. That's what Penn got from the place—that truth, underscored.
Sure, you can quit when you're ahead. But then you're out of the game; you're not playing. That's what I've done with my life, he thought. But he would lose too, in the end. Maybe the best strategy was to pass along the winnings, if you had any, the way he had last night. Penn had done that in Guayaquil—a good thing, as he'd put it—although he hadn't finished the job. Probably wouldn't, either, the way his life was going. Arthur felt for his notebook and Constanza's address. ”

“ You can survive unloved, but you can't make it without loving somebody—or something. Ruby loved her birds. And who knows who else? He loved Lorna. Lorna loved Pike, or used to, and Molly, their daughter. Molly herself would be falling in love any time now, if she weren't already. Round and round we go, getting the job done. Except he hadn't gotten the job done, not unless you counted the paintings as kids. Not a happy train of thought. Piss on it, he'd have a waffle at Cleary's. Tide him over until the big feed.
On Thursdays they had the big feed, he and Riles and Kai. ”

“ It seemed like last week that she was looking carefully into his eyes and shaking his hand, curious and unafraid, different from him in many ways, but similar in that. Painter's eyes, he thought, clear and unblinking. Couldn't tell how good she was, though—eyes are one thing; talent is another. And hard work is another.
She lived in a studio behind her parents' house on a mountain road—what was it called?—the Glasco Turnpike. Her father, Lad Charles, was a painter, a friendly guy who wore bow ties and was well liked in town. Lorna was protected, highly educated, out of reach for Don Delahanty. ”

“ Charlie said, standing back. "Here, let me take that." She handed him a stout canvas bag. "Jesus! What's in here?"
"Rocks and books. You're looking pleased with life. How's the world of architecture?"
"All right. Still looking for the perfect client." He rubbed his stomach with his free hand and pointed across the street to Standard Baking Company. "Croissants," he said. "A croissant a day keeps the doctor away. Are you hungry?"
"No. Let's get on with it."
Charlie led the way to his car, an elderly red Volvo. "Rocinante,"
Margery remembered. ”

“ The world divides into people who have been hungry and those who haven't. Charlie felt himself grandfathered into the right camp. It was strange how some people you got along with and some you didn't. "I'll tell you one thing," Tucker said, "there weren't nobody smarter than Margery Sewell ever come out of here. ”

“ They don't see too many airmen at
Cornell. We've been together since we were fifteen—high school."
"Oh, Jesus," the waitress said, "first time's the worst."
"She didn't say anything, but I saw it in her eyes—just like I saw she was going to be mine when I asked her in the hallway to go roller skating." Will shook his head. "I didn't even know how to roller skate. She looked down and then she looked up and her eyes said yes and then she said, yes. And that was that. Five years ago."
The waitress took a last drag and stubbed out her cigarette. "You want something to eat?"
"I don't think so." ”

“ Charlie was sure it was a he; the fox was elegant and challenging, superior.
"Damn near alive," Charlie said. "You could make money with these."
Tucker shook his head negatively. "Only do one a year. In the winter, not much going on." ”

“ He started the car and drove away. When he reached the intersection where he normally turned toward home, he steered right and then impulsively left, veering back into the traffic going straight ahead. Someone leaned on his horn and passed him, too close. The driver turned his head. Arthur could see his mouth moving but couldn't hear the words. Fucking something something something. It hadn't been that dangerous. Amazing how people need to get angry, be righteous.
"Get a life," Arthur said. The man cut in front of him. ”

“ Margery said. "Good old Tucker."
Halfway back to Portland, Charlie looked over at Margery and asked about her husband. "He cared for me," she said. "He just cared more for someone else."
"Damn shame," Charlie said. Margery brushed the fingers of one hand through the back of her hair. Charlie thought she was going to say more, but she didn't. At the ferry, he helped her with the box and said goodbye.
The next morning was again bright and sunny. Charlie returned to the bench near the ferry and sat, savoring his coffee, croissant, and the salty air. His brother Orson came to mind. ”

“ Not a whole lot different than winter until the daffodils, crab apples, and forsythia bloom. The sun skips off the water, impossibly bright, impossibly blue. You can almost almost hear the cracking of seeds, buried and forgotten. ”

“ Arthur said. "Trying anyway."
"Good old Art, slow and steady wins the race."
They had a couple of steaks, split a Caesar salad, and drank wine while they talked about old times and the state of the world. Penn explained craps and convinced Arthur to try his luck. People who play with me get the rolls, he told Arthur. They bought two hundred dollars worth of chips. Penn insisted that Arthur place the bet, but they waited until the dice were passed to a middle-aged blonde. "She's lucky," Penn said. ”

“ He walked to his usual bench and sat down. The sun beat on the live oak trees and sage-green strings of Spanish moss while the birds made happy sounds in front of Ruby. She had lost weight, he thought, but it was hard to tell, the way she dressed. She was a beauty once. He remembered his bloodshot eyes in the bathroom mirror. None of us getting any younger. He would give her the drawing in the morning and take off. It was time to leave Savannah, past time. Head for Portland again. Look up Lorna.
Lorna. The Art Students League. ”

“ He did not want to be involved in their relationship. He turned the show down, pretending that the requirements were too much trouble. It probably wouldn't have worked out, anyway, he thought. Some people have a knack for dangling what you want in front of you; when you reach for it, it disappears.
Late in October he went over to Lorna's and said goodbye. She seemed sad and a bit relieved. Molly had tears in her eyes and hugged him wholeheartedly.
The next morning a cold rain was bringing down the leaves as Don carried his bag to the bus station. ”

“ The rain fell equally on us all, rich kids with Jeeps, waitresses, cooks, masons and roofers, the young and the old. It's raining, I said to myself. The words meant more than they did before. It's raining, I said again. All over the town.
Harry, the chef, made a mixture of spices for me. He handed me a plastic bag and told me to shake a swordfish steak in the bag and not to broil the fish too long. She'll never forget you, he said without smiling. Harry cooked breakfast at the Gray Gull and lunch and dinner at The Upper Deck, a sixteen hour day. Our relationship was respectful. ”

“ Arthur realized that tears were running down his face, that he was both sad and grateful, and that it was time to leave.
Four Pictures and a Flower Thief
I have these pictures—two in fog, two in sun. Fog: a man in a deck chair is playing a trumpet, his feet on the stern railing of a ferry. Fog: a telephone pole seen through a windshield. Sun: a young woman on a bicycle is climbing a cobblestoned street, blonde hair bouncing, white blouse, solid breasts. Sun: a snake falling back to the bank of a stream, a dragonfly in its mouth, dazzling, iridescent. ”

“ She was all right, thank God, after a few days in the hospital. Some dental work, a small scar. I had bruises. We got off easy. Morgan's truck was totaled. The cop was tired and made a typo on the accident form. I paid a fine and didn't even get a mark on my out of state license. The little traffic circle was notorious, I learned. I went back and nailed reflectors all over the place.
Every afternoon I visited Jamie in the hospital, and we became close. Two days after she was released and life was getting back to normal, I took a walk during the break between lunch and dinner. ”

“ Your mother'd give you hell."
"Don't have a mother."
"Oh. I am a nosy bitch."
"You're not a bitch," Will said. It was important to get something right. "You're not a bitch. I was at a concert. We were."
"You and Heidi."
"And a bunch of her friends. It was at Cornell. String quartet. I had to wear a tie."
"Guess you got rid of the tie."
"It's in the car—with the rest of the uniform. ”

“ She did, eventually, step down from that bus. Two weeks later I put her back on. It had all been a kind of sexual mirage, a passion that had nothing to do with who she was. Watch out when your throat goes dry and you begin to shake!
We each have a type—someone visually our lost other self, male or female. I've seen a few since, always blonde, earthy and radiant at the same time, a particular combination. But they don't affect me the same way. I shake my head and say, there's another one.
"What happened to Jamie?" W.cat and I were sitting on a bench that looked out toward the White Mountains. ”

“ She's got a new life. It would confuse the kids. I worry about them sometimes. Not Constanza, she's strong, good looking—she'll do fine. But the kids—I used to take Esperanza to school on a bike, pulled her behind me on a little cart." He looked at Arthur and shook his head. ”

“ After coffee and a piece of toast, he rolled the drawing and took it to the park where the woman fed pigeons every day. She wasn't there. She wasn't there the next day, either. The following day Don brought a loaf of bread, sat on her bench, and tossed white pellets into the air. Birds fought for each piece. ”

“ The waitress bent forward and tapped her cigarette on an ashtray hidden behind the counter. "You want more coffee, Herbert?"
"Don't believe I will." Herbert turned to his friend. "What do you say?"
"Don't get paid for sitting."
They left and the waitress cleared their places, sweeping a tip into her pocket. She turned toward Will. "More coffee?" ”