Constance 'Dusty' Miller
(Editor's Note: this is an excerpt from a work in progress, The Spy I Loved.)
With twenty-four cabins, all of them occupied, Lindsey’s
attention was fully engaged. If there was something vaguely disturbing about
the two dark foreign men getting into a boat shortly after Liam had gone up the
river, it escaped her. The men were in Cabin Eleven. It was right across from
his in the crazy hodgepodge that was The Pines. They didn’t look much different
from anyone else. Just like anyone else, the one on the back was hunched over
the motor. The one in front sat facing the rear, his pale face standing out
against the green windbreaker. The only thing was that it had a hood. Most of
them did as the weather was notoriously fickle and fishermen were out in all
weathers.
Dale floated about from dawn until late, between the
dock and the store. Mark worked straight days, six days a week all summer long.
Mark or Dale fixed anything that was broken, within reason, which saved them
from calling in expensive service people from town. Mark, nearing forty now, a
perennial bachelor and scrupulously polite with Lindsey at all times, had
somehow managed to never become a part of the family.
Lindsey had the impression Dale simply wasn’t capable
anymore, and yet living in a shitty little apartment in Sudbury all winter just
encouraged him to drink. They had tried that and she was sort of grateful when
he said he didn’t want to do it again. The camp was the only real home he’d had
in decades, and he saw no reason to put down firmer roots in any town. What few
friends he had were around here. For Dale, to go to the coffee shop once a week,
Sunday mornings regular as clockwork, was a kind of social life. But even he
had reluctantly agreed that having Mark around in the winter would be a help
and it was better if Dale wasn’t left alone.
Dale’s first little heart attack three years ago had
been a godsend. He had woken up and realized that he really did need another
man to help run the place. There would be someone there in an emergency. Dale
knew that Lindsey must ultimately leave. She wondered if he had even missed
her, and yet he must—he must. He simply didn’t know how to say it. To say it
would be to confront that ultimate goodbye. That would be the day when she
packed her bags for good, threw out a lot of childish stuff and then walked out
of his life for all intents and purposes. Dale probably assumed she’d just get
a job as a substitute teacher or something and stay in Espanola…
Never.
The guests were a distraction from all of that other
world, that private world.
There were Japanese businessmen in Cabin Four. They
were pretty easy to read. So far they had rented about half of the rather tacky
porn videos on hand, in a dingy back room with an ‘Adults Only’ sign above the
door. When they saw her coming and going, they would spurt Japanese back and
forth.
Nothing shocked her anymore. She took their money and handed over the
receipt for the DVDs and that was all she cared.
She had her story, and she figured everyone else did
too. Some were merely more interesting than others.
Hopefully hers would turn out as well as any.
Don’t expect too much—
Cabin Eight was a trio of young married couples, and
they hadn’t been seen since check-in. It wasn’t all that different from a bunch
of undoubtedly married Japanese businessmen, away from their docile little
wives and rice-paper houses, drinking scotch with the boss and pretending they
really cared about trout and small-mouth bass.
What you really want
is a promotion.
A title, and a plastic sign on the door.
Suck-holing around a bad boss was the life for them.
No price was too high.
They were so bored they spent their time drinking and
watching bad porn.
She tried to avoid obvious mental pictures of wedded
bliss, the quiet and confident companionship, exhibited in at least one
friend’s marriage,
When she took a good look at some of her other
friends’ choices, it was easy to be contemptuous.
Contemptuous for what little
they had settled for. What was terrifying was how quickly some of them had
settled down for the long haul, dishes and laundry and diapers, kids, kids,
kids, and ultimately, a long twilight followed by death. Their menial jobs
would eventually kill the men, most of whom did not enjoy a long and golden
retirement. Sometimes it seemed the whole town was like that—the whole world as
she had known it.
Toronto had been an education in more ways than one.
Toronto was a glittering paradise, with a million desperately lonely, isolated
people. They all lived close together and in the same place.
Most of them at least had somebody.
Soon, two more years, she would have no one—she’d be
just starting off.
So far she had avoided all that. Not that there
weren’t longings, even temptations. There was always that distant purpose—to
get her degree in History and get the hell out of Dodge City as Dale called it.
Perhaps there was a smidgeon of contempt there after
all. Or maybe it was jealousy. They were at least having a life. Her monthlies
were almost due and that might have had something to do with her mood. The
notion that one was responsible for one’s own thoughts and feelings was vile in
that it just added to the problem. It was a piling-on of the guilt.
The pain.
The misery.
The thing to do was to focus on the work and push the
bitter, lonely thoughts aside.
With all of those cabins strung along their sandy road
under the pines, someone was always wanting something, someone always had a
problem, and someone always had a question. There was always someone coming and
going, always someone in the store, always someone on the dock, either setting
out if it was early or coming in if the hour was late.
It was only after a long and busy day that she thought
of Liam again.
End of excerpt.
(Yeah, Dusty's been real grumpy lately and we are desperately trying not to mess with her, but her book is very close to being done. -- ed,)
FUCK YOU. HAVE A NICE DAY>DUSTY.
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