In the Country of the Blind by Edward Hoagland

Author:Edward Hoagland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arcade Publishing
Published: 2016-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

“Oh, we missed you,” Carol said two days after that, seeing him on his bike from her rattletrap. “I’ll stop over.”

He recounted Vietnam War stories he had heard while in the car with the newly discharged and shaky vet during Dorothy’s chicken-and-biscuits lunch, except then he hurried lest Carol pull into his drive before he biked back.

Of course she didn’t. Impatiently he waited till the next day, when she allowed his hands every liberty in greeting her. “I missed you,” she conceded, as his body spoke for itself. But she enjoyed teasing him too, this man she could pleasure so easily: starting him hardening, then stopping him. “Your wife would think you’re robbing the cradle.”

They laughed, both because she wasn’t quite that young and Claire’s opinions would work contrariwise. “You’re growing a third leg. We should notify P. T. Barnum.”

She went and sat down elsewhere, though. At first he couldn’t make out where, but took a seat himself, as instructed, to tell her about his trip—how his mind was eased as to his kids, how Claire had roped in Brad, how hitchless the arrangements had been.

“Okay, I’m glad. Come—let’s do frottage,” she suggested, moving to the sofa with merciful amusement, since he had taught her the term, whereby he could lie on top of her, rubbing himself against her thigh until he creamed in his jeans. “Oh boy! Now let’s get you cleaned up,” she chuckled when he had. She put his pants and underpants in the laundry basket for Melba to deal with. “We’re your handmaidens. You’re an emir upon your return!”

He sought her lips to temper her humor, and she patted him to assure him everything was in scale. If an emir, he was a blind emir, with his wallet in her hand. “Ball in the mouth?” she teased, having told him previously that that was her ultimate test of a man’s trust in her. However, it was not a proposal. She made tea and sandwiches for the porch and filled him in on gossip of The Farm. A destitute couple had shown up, and a tarp propped over poles for them, but how long would they be fed? Bald tires, no money for gas, and two foster children the state might take away from them when it found out they’d been evicted from Burlington. They wanted their checks forwarded here, as if they were just on vacation. The revolutionaries wanted to protect them, but the trust funders resented unaccounted-for expenses shouldered ultimately only by them. Besides, a state investigator nosing around might find more than the foster children.

She asked for a summary of his trip. Could Claire still rattle his cage, pull on his chain? And didn’t he really prefer bankerdom? “Isn’t it nicer?” Bankerdom had become her word for Press’s former life.

“No, it isn’t.” He laughed. She laughed. “The whiskey is better and immigrants mow your lawn and corpulence is not a sign of poverty.” He added that a weight was off his heart, regarding Jeremy and Molly for the time being.

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