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The cornfield was the place she wanted to get to. The corn was higher than her head now, maybe higher than Neal’s head-she wanted to get into the shade of it. She made her way across the yard with this one thought in mind. The dogs thank God must have been taken inside.
There was no fence. The cornfield just petered out into the yard. She walked straight ahead into it, onto the narrow path between two rows. The leaves flapped into her face and against her arms like streamers of oilcloth. She had to remove her hat so they would not knock it off. Each stalk had its cob, like a baby in a shroud. There was a strong, almost sickening smell of vegetable growth, of green starch and hot sap.
What she’d thought she’d do, once she got in here, was lie down. Lie down in the shade of these large coarse leaves and not come out till she heard Neal calling her. Perhaps not even then. But the rows were too close together to permit that, and she was too busy thinking about something to take the trouble. She was too angry.
It was not about anything that had happened recently. She was remembering how a group of people had been sitting around one evening on the floor of her living room-or meeting room-playing one of those serious psychological games. One of those games that were supposed to make a person more honest and resilient. You had to say just what came into your mind as you looked at each of the others. And a white-haired woman named Addie Norton, a friend of Neal’s, had said, “I hate to tell you this, Ji
Ji
It was not the first time she had made this mental reply. And mentally pointed out to Neal what a farce that game was. For when it came Addie’s turn, did anyone dare say anything unpleasant to her? Oh, no. “Feisty,” they said or “Honest as a dash of cold water.” They were scared of her, that was all.
She said, “Dash of cold water,” out loud, now, in a stinging voice.
Other people had said kinder things to her. “Flower child” or “Mado
When you died, of course, these wrong opinions were all there was left.
While this was going through her mind she had done the easiest thing you could do in a cornfield-got lost. She had stepped over one row and then another and probably got turned around. She tried going back the way she had come, but it obviously wasn’t the right way. There were clouds over the sun again so she couldn’t tell where west was. And she had not known which direction she was going when she entered the field, so that would not have helped anyway. She stood still and heard nothing but the corn whispering away, and some distant traffic.
Her heart was pounding just like any heart that had years and years of life ahead of it.
Then a door opened, she heard the dogs barking and Matt yelling and the door slammed shut. She pushed her way through stalks and leaves in the direction of that noise.
And it turned out that she had not gone far at all. She had been stumbling around in one small corner of the field all the time.
Matt waved at her and warned off the dogs.
“Don’t be scairt of them, don’t be scairt,” he called. He was going towards the car just as she was, though from another direction. As they got closer to each other he spoke in a lower, perhaps more intimate voice.
“You shoulda come and knocked on the door.”
He thought that she had gone into the corn to have a pee.
“I just told your husband I’d come out and make sure you’re okay.”
Ji
“He was sure hungry for that chili.”
Who was he talking about?
Neal.
She was trembling and sweating and there was a hum in her head, as on a wire strung between her ears.
“I could bring you some out if you’d like it.”
She shook her head, smiling. He lifted up the bottle of beer in his hand-he seemed to be saluting her.
“Drink?”
She shook her head again, still smiling.
“Not even drink of water? We got good water here.”
“No thanks.”
If she turned her head and looked at his purple navel, she would gag.
“You know, there was this fellow,” he said, in a changed voice. A leisurely, chuckling voice. “There was a fellow going out the door and he’s got a jar of horseradish in one hand. So his dad says to him, Where you goin’ with that horseradish?
“Well I’m goin’ to get a horse, he says.
“You’re not goin’ to catch a horse with no horseradish.
“Comes back next morning, nicest horse you ever want to see. Lookit my horse here. Puts it in the barn.”
I do not wish to give the wrong impression. We must not get carried away with optimism. But it looks as if we have some unexpected results here.
“Next day the dad sees him goin’ out again. Roll of duct tape under his arm. Where you goin’ now?
“Well I heard my mom say she’d like a nice duck for di
“You damn fool, you didn’t think you’re goin’ to catch a duck with duct tape?
“Wait and see.
“Comes back next morning, nice fat duck under his arm.”
It looks as if there has been a very significant shrinkage. What we hoped for of course but frankly we did not expect it. And I do not mean that the battle is over, just that this is a favorable sign.
“Dad don’t know what to say. Just don’t know what to say about it.
“Next night, very next night, sees his son goin’ out the door with big bunch of branches in his hand.”
Quite a favorable sign. We do not know that there may not be more trouble in the future but we can say we are cautiously optimistic.
“What’s them branches you got in your hand?
“Them’s pussy willows.
“Okay, Dad says. You just hang on a minute.
“You just hang on a minute, I’m gettin’ my hat. I’m gettin’ my hat and I’m comin’ with you!”
“It’s too much,” Ji
Talking in her head to the doctor.
“What?” said Matt. An aggrieved and babyish look had come over his face while he was still chuckling. “What’s the matter now?”
Ji
“It was just a joke,” he said. “I never meant to offend you.”
Ji
“Never mind, I’m goin’ in. I’m not goin’ to take up no more of your time.” And he turned his back on her, not even bothering to call to the dogs.
She had not said anything like that to the doctor. Why should she? Nothing was his fault. But it was true. It was too much. What he had said made everything harder. It made her have to go back and start this year all over again. It removed a certain low-grade freedom. A dull, protecting membrane that she had not even known was there had been pulled away and left her raw.
Matt’s thinking she had gone into the cornfield to pee had made her realize that she actually wanted to. She got out of the van, stood cautiously, and spread her legs and lifted her wide cotton skirt. She had taken to wearing big skirts and no panties this summer because her bladder was no longer under perfect control.
A dark stream trickled away from her through the gravel. The sun was down now, evening was coming on. A clear sky overhead, the clouds had vanished.