The Snow Queen: A Novel by Cunningham Michael

Author:Cunningham, Michael [Cunningham, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374710347
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2014-05-05T20:00:00+00:00

Tyler and Beth have ducked into the kitchen, for a bit of alone time. They hold each other, leaning against the countertop.

Beth says, “We’re almost in another year.”

“We are.” Tyler buries his nose in the crook of her neck. He inhales her as deeply as he does cocaine.

There’s a speck of grit in his eye. He tries blinking it out—he can’t loosen his hold on Beth, not now, to rub at it.

“And the world hasn’t ended,” she says.

“Not for some of us.”

She presses him more tightly against herself. “Don’t start,” she whispers. “Not tonight.”

Tyler nods. He won’t start. Not tonight. There will be no screeds about secret CIA prisons in Poland and Romania, warrantless wiretapping, or the fact that Bush himself has now admitted to thirty thousand Iraqi civilians dead since the war began. That would be the war against a country that didn’t attack the United States in the first place.

Tyler says, softly, close to Beth’s ear, “They found mammoth DNA in England.”

“So, they can make a mammoth again?”

“That’s probably a little premature. Let’s just say they were never going to make a mammoth again without mammoth DNA.”

“That would be so great. Imagine!”

“It would be extremely great.”

“They’d keep him in a zoo, though, wouldn’t they?”

“No. They’d want to study him in his natural habitat. They’d build a whole mammoth preserve for him. Probably in … Norway.”

“That’s nice,” she says.

“You know what else?”

“What?”

“Fiji overturned its sodomy laws. You can be gay in Fiji now.”

“That’s good.”

“And…”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Princess Nori of Japan married a commoner, and relinquished the throne.”

“Is he handsome?”

“Not really. But he has a true heart, and he loves her more than anything.”

“That’s even better.”

“Of course it is.”

From the living room, Ping’s voice. “One minute to midnight!”

Beth says, “Let’s stay in here, okay?”

“Somebody will come and find us.”

“Then we’ll tell them to go away.”

“Absolutely.”

Unexpectedly, Tyler starts weeping. It’s a dry, quiet weeping, more like gagging on tears than shedding them.

Beth says, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

Tyler lets her hold him. He can’t speak. He’s surprised by this sudden assault. He’s afraid, of course he’s afraid, on Beth’s behalf—a remission so unanticipated, so inexplicable, could vanish as mysteriously as it arrived. They both know that. They discussed it once, and agreed to discuss it no further.

He weeps, too, over the wedding song he sang for Beth, more than a year ago. Why can’t he seem to forget (never mind forgive) the fact that it wasn’t a good song, despite the assurances, from everyone, that it was the best thing he’d ever done? Yeah, right. It was heartfelt, it naturally enough elicited tears, but Tyler knew, he knew, that it was more sentimental than searing. He’d been defeated by his own lacks. He winces, now, to remember: sliver in my heart had remained, but without any mention of ice; there may have been (he’s willed himself to forget the particulars) our double-handed, solemn approach, rhymed with the invisible driver of the ancient rose-decked coach. He knew he’d run out of time, he’d run out

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