“It’s good to be back,” said Max. “I missed you, Nudie. And I love being a dad, although it is weird….”
“That would explain all those hundreds of letters and longdistance phone calls,” said Knute. They were lying on top of their pile of hay, in Johnny’s field.
“Yeah,” he said. “Okay, I didn’t call or write or whatever, but I was fucked up. So you can’t resent the fact, or you can, whatever, but you can’t be justifiably pissed that I had a brain problem and left when I was told to. And as for Summer Feelin’, I was scared to death of finding out about her. That was a major deal for me and don’t you think for a second I didn’t care about her. I figured I was doing her and you a favour by just disappearing. Okay, it’s a cliché, whatever, and you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true. I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do about her or you or myself or anything.”
“Well,” said Knute, “didn’t your mother tell you to leave so you wouldn’t get stuck being a father at your age, and with some girl who you maybe weren’t totally sure about and you just said, ‘Yes, Mother, good idea, Mother …’”
“No. That didn’t happen. I just told you that at the time. I was pissed off at you for telling me to fuck off just because I wasn’t initially thrilled at the prospect of having a kid. I mean, you know, were you thrilled? At the time? I was worried that you’d just leave me out of the whole thing, think of me as a totally useless parent. I was mad that we couldn’t just deal with it openly, I was pissed off that I couldn’t express doubt about having a baby without being thought of as a total shit…. So, whatever, for some stupid reason, I guess I was just scared, or confused, or whatever, I said my mother had encouraged me to leave, which, in hindsight, made me look like a total fucking spineless little kid, Mommy told me to leave, et cetera, et cetera, and made you hate me, and my mother, who really is just a harmless drunk, not a bad one, and she can’t figure out why you hate her, except that she assumed you’d hate me, for leaving, and … you know, hate her by proxy. I don’t know, whatever, it was a lie and I had a major brain problem. Okay? I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Knute. “Okay?” She took Max’s hand.
Max took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said.
Knute looked at his face. She tried to see it the way Combine Jo would have. She tried to look at it with love only. And concern.
They lay there quietly for a long time and watched the purple fade from the sky. They saw some lights go on in town and saw Johnny Dranger’s yard light go on and they heard his dog bark a couple of times and the slam of a car door and Johnny yelling at the dog. If they hadn’t lived in Algren most of their lives they would have smelled the liquid fertilizer on the fields. They were used to the smell of shit.
Max lay next to Knute, propped up on his elbows. His smooth white butt, surrounded by the brownish straw of the bales, shone like a giant egg in a dark nest. “Why didn’t you tan your bum in the South of France?” Knute asked him.
“Shut up,” said Max, laughing.
She gave him a big push with her foot and she heard him yell and then he disappeared entirely and there was a dull thud. Max had fallen overboard into the field. “Oh my God, are you okay?” she shrieked, scrambling to put her clothes on and peer over the side at the same time.
“Fucking hell,” said Max, “I think I broke my leg. You’re gonna have to go get Johnny, Knute, for fuck’s sakes …”
Knute landed on the ground beside him and leaned over to have a look.
“Did you bring my clothes?” he asked.
“No,” said Knute, “sorry.”
“Oh fuck, oh God, my leg is fucking killing me …”
“I’ll go get Johnny!” she yelled, already running through the field towards Johnny’s little house.
“Hurry, I’m dying!” Max yelled. “I’ll rot in this fucking field!”
Johnny brought them to the hospital in his truck. Max lay stretched out on the seat with his head on Johnny’s lap, moaning. He was naked except for a gunny sack thrown over his loins. Johnny sat and drove, and laughed. And Tiny, Johnny’s dog, and Knute rode in the back of the truck with the warm wind in their faces.
When they got to the hospital they had to wait for the doctor to show up. By then it was around midnight, and the only person on duty was Nurse Barnes, who shook her head when Knute told her what had happened to Max. “I see,” she said. “I see.” It didn’t look like she saw. If she had seen she would have been nodding her head, not shaking it. “Can you put any weight on it?” she asked Max.
“No!” he said. Johnny laughed at that point and so did Knute. Max was lying on a gurney in the reception area, dressed in his gunny sack and staring up at the ceiling. “What the hell is so hilarious over there?” he said. He cursed under his breath. “Can I smoke in here?”
Nurse Barnes said, “No, I’m sorry.” And she added, “I’m afraid Dr. François is having some car trouble, it may be a few minutes before he arrives.” So Johnny wheeled Max outside and they all had a cigarette on the front steps of the hospital. Nurse Barnes passed by the open front door pushing an X-ray machine or microwave oven or something and said, “Johnny, I’m surprised at you, with your asthma.”
Johnny shrugged and Max said, “What the hell does that mean?”
“Sorry,” Knute said to Johnny, “for dragging you around like this. Sorry Max is naked. It was a very warm evening, you know, and …” She was smiling and Johnny nodded.
“Sorry?” yelled Max. “Why the hell are you saying sorry to him? I’m the one you booted off the bales. I’m the one with the fucking broken leg here!”
“And I’m sorry, Johnny,” said Knute, “that Max isn’t more grateful …”
“You guys are so lucky,” said Johnny out of the blue. He was staring at the moon. “You really are—”
Max interrupted him. “Lucky!” he said. “Lucky? Jesus, Johnny, are you warped?”
“Shut up, Max,” said Knute.
“Or what? You’ll break my other leg? … Johnny,” he said, “are you there?”
“Yeah,” said Johnny.
Nurse Barnes poked her head outside and waved her hand in front of her face. “Smoky,” she said. Max said “fuck off” in a very low voice, and then Nurse Barnes said, “The doctor’s here now, c’mon back inside.”
“I’ll race you to the front desk,” said Max, and Johnny wheeled him back inside.
The next morning Combine Jo drove Max over to Tom and Dory’s place. Summer Feelin’ saw them drive up and went running out to help Max with his crutches. She was looking forward to drawing all over his cast with her markers. Combine Jo made sure Max made it to the front door and then gave him a reassuring pat on the back. She picked up Summer Feelin’ and kissed her. “See you later, aviator,” she said to S.F. who grinned and shook her head. “See you later, hot potater?”
S.F. laughed and said, “No, no, no.”
Combine Jo tried again. “See you later, elevator?”
S.F. shrieked, “Alligator! Alligator!”
Combine Jo, all 250 pounds of her, jumped back and waved her arms in the air. “Where? Where?” she screamed. “Where’s the alligator?”
By now S.F. was flapping wildly with delight. “Over there!” She pointed to a spot behind Combine Jo, who jumped to the side. “No, no, over there!” S.F. said, and Combine Jo screamed and jumped again.
“Hey, Jo,” said Knute. Jo stopped jumping and put S.F. back down on the ground.
“Yes, ma’am?” she said, laughing and out of breath.