Gryphon_ New and Selected Stories - Charles Baxter [6]
“Where are you going?” she asked, through the open window on the driver’s side.
“Boating,” Burrage said.
Mrs. Schultz’s right hand flew to the door handle, clutching it. “Take me along,” she said.
“Take her along.” It was Gregory. Burrage turned around and stared at him.
“Mrs. Schultz? You want Mrs. Schultz along with us on our boat ride?” Both Gregory and Magda nodded together. “I don’t get this,” Burrage said aloud, before turning to Mrs. Schultz. “I suppose if you want to come along, you can. Are you dressed for it? Is your house locked up?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She walked around to the passenger side and got into the front seat, slamming the door fiercely. “Let them steal everything, for all I care. I want to go out in a boat. Let’s get going.”
On the ten-minute drive to the lake, Magda kept silent, though she would nod if either Burrage or Gregory asked her a question. Meanwhile, in the front seat, Mrs. Schultz was watching the landscape with her eyes wide open, as if she had never ridden in an automobile before. She was offering opinions. “I’m glad it’s Saturday,” she said. “If this was during the week, I’d be missing my soap operas.” They passed a water tower. “Never saw one of those before.” Burrage groaned. Mrs. Schultz suddenly turned her gaze on Burrage and asked him, “What does the horoscope say about today, Burrage?”
“It’ll be beautiful. It is beautiful. Warm. Nothing to worry about.”
“No episodes?”
“No. Definitely no episodes.”
“Good.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’m too old for episodes.”
When they reached the lake, Burrage paid to get into the grounds of the state park, which included a beach and boating area. The two children and the old woman did not seem especially pleased about arriving; nobody announced it. They all stepped out of the car in silence as the moist vegetative smell of the lake drifted up to them. “Anybody have to go to the bathroom?” Burrage asked again, being careful to take the snack bag from the backseat. They all shook their heads. “Well, in that case, let’s go,” he said, and they walked down to the rowboat concession, Mrs. Schultz leading, while Gregory held on to Burrage’s hand and Magda held on to Gregory’s.
The boy in the concession stand, who was listening to a transistor radio and wearing a Styx T-shirt, tied them all into life jackets, Mrs. Schultz, because of her arthritis, being the hardest to fit. This job finished, he went down to the dock and pulled an aluminum rowboat out to where some steps had been built in the dock’s north side. Magda and Gregory went in front, Mrs. Schultz in back, and Burrage sat down in the middle, where he could row. “You got an hour,” the boy said, scratching his chest. “If you take longer, it’s okay, but you got to pay extra when you get back.” Burrage nodded as he lifted the oars. “You know how to row?”
“I know how,” Burrage said. “Cast us off.” The boy untied the boat and gave it a push.
“Bon voyage,” he said, lifting his leg to scratch his ankle.
Burrage watched the dock recede. Mrs. Schultz was observing something in the distance and sniffing the air. Both Magda and Gregory were staring down into the water. “How far do we go?” Burrage asked them all.
“To the middle,” Gregory said. “I want to go to the middle.”
“Yes, that would be fine,” Mrs. Schultz said. “Right to the middle.”
“Okay.” He felt a slight ache in his shoulders. “If anybody wants a snack,” he said, “there are crackers and things in that bag.” He stopped rowing with his right hand to point to the bag, and, as he did, the boat turned in the water.
“Come on,” Gregory said. “Don’t do that. Just row.”
“Be nice,” Mrs. Schultz said