A Thousand Acres_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [32]
“They had a parrot. But I thought he was always in the living room. Remember how he used to order the dogs around?” I said to Ty, “From overhearing Cal training them, I suppose, this parrot had learned to give the commands, and when any of the dogs went into the living room, the parrot would start shouting orders, and the dogs would obey. Once we came in from outside, and we heard the parrot squawking and shouting ‘Sit! Roll over!’ and we went in the living room and there was the collie panting and doing all these tricks. Mrs. Ericson had to put a sheet over the parrot’s cage.”
“When did they leave?” asked Jess.
“Oh, I’m sure they were gone before you were. I was fourteen when Daddy bought this farm.”
“Stole it from Harold, you mean.” Jess stared me down, that audacious twinkle again.
“Oh, right. I forgot.”
What I had forgotten was the pleasure of a guest for dinner, someone unrelated, with sociable habits learned far away. While we helped ourselves, Ty said, “What do they think about this oil shortage out west?”
“Oil company scam.”
“They’ve got Carter by the short hairs.” Ty glanced at me, because he knew I rather liked Carter, or at least, liked Rosalynn and Miss Lillian. I rolled my eyes.
“The thing is,” said Jess, “he’s a realist. He looks at all sides. He ponders what he should do in a thoughtful way. You should never have a realist in the White House. Being president is too scary for a realist.” I laughed. Ty said, “Ginny likes him. I voted for him, I’ve got to say, though I don’t know a thing about farming peanuts. But every time something comes up, he just wrings his hands.”
“Nah,” said Jess. “He says, ‘What should I do?’ A president’s got to say, ‘What do I want to do? What will make me feel good now that I’m feelin’ so bad?’ He’s like a farmer, you see, only the big pieces of equipment he’s got access to are weapons, that’s the difference.”
Ty was smiling. When dinner was over, I didn’t want Jess to leave. Ty didn’t either. There was a moment, after I had picked up the plates, when we all looked at the table. Then Ty got up and opened the refrigerator again, and said, “How about another beer?”
I was as smooth as a professional hostess. I said, “It’s so hot in here. Why don’t we go out on the front porch?”
Once Jess had settled on the porch swing and Ty on the top step, his spot, I felt a rare rush of luxuriant delight. The evening lay before me, and all I had to do was receive it.
Jess took two or three deep breaths. The swing chains rattled and twisted against one another. The lilacs were over with, but I’d cut the grass around the house that morning, and the sweet fragrance of chamomile floated on top of the sharper scent of the wet tomato vines I’d watered before dinner. There weren’t any lightning bugs, yet, but I could see one or two cabbage moths pale and dim against the dark greenery around the porch. “This is nice,” said Jess. “This is exactly what I was looking for.”
“Are you going to stick around the area?” Ty never hesitated to ask what others might only hint at.
“We’ll see. It’s only been, what, ten days. It still feels like a vacation, though Harold is edging me toward a full day’s work.”
I blurted out, “You wouldn’t move in with Harold and Loren for good? After having your own place and your own life for twelve or fourteen years?”
“They do live kind of a strange life, don’t they? I asked Loren who he was dating and he just shrugged, as if he didn’t want to talk about it.”
Ty said, “He told me, ‘Girls don’t want to move out to the farm. They’ll date you and they’ll come pick things out of the garden, but that’s all.’ ”
Jess laughed. “I’m sure he’s not the world’s most dynamic suitor. I think his idea of a heartfelt declaration of passion is, ‘We could, you know, get married or something.’ ”
Ty said, “In high school, he dated Candy Dahl a little bit.”
“She was cute, wasn’t she? But she wasn’t going to stay on the farm. Marlene told me a long time ago that she’s doing real well in Chicago.