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Great Circle(121)

Author:Maggie Shipstead

“We had an argument.”

“Let’s roll him over.” They took Barclay by the ankles and tugged him so he lay longways on the bed, then rolled him onto his back. “Oh, there he goes. Get the bucket.” Barclay had begun to retch. Kate hauled him upright by the lapels just in time for Marian to catch, with the bucket, a gush of what seemed to be unadulterated whiskey. “Oh good, he’s made himself into a still,” Kate said.

When Kate was gone, Marian took the bucket to the bathroom and emptied it before she tried to undress him. His trousers were easy enough, as were his socks, but he’d passed back into lumpen insensibility and she couldn’t get him out of his coat. This proved a blessing a minute later when she needed to haul him up as Kate had, by the lapels, so he could vomit again. When he’d finished, she stripped off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, leaving him in his drawers. She pushed him onto his side, folded the blankets over him, emptied the bucket, curled up beside him under a quilt.

For some hours, they dozed. He woke a few times to heave, though there seemed to be nothing left in him but pale green foam. When she woke to find him staring at her, she couldn’t guess the time. The sky was gray and heavy. “I wouldn’t have expected this,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Expected what?”

“That you’d tend to me.”

“I didn’t like that you were calling for Kate.”

“I’d have thought you’d have been relieved.”

“You weren’t even out of the car and you were wailing for her over and over. Do you remember?”

“I was desperate.”

“For Kate?”

“For comfort, I think. I get a feeling sometimes, like something terrible is chasing me, getting closer. I felt that way driving back. If I’d known you’d take care of me, I would have called for you, not Kate.” He fell quiet, and she wondered if he was asleep until he said, “You torment me, Marian. You do.”

She considered for a minute, said, “I don’t see how. You’re the one with all the power.”

“No, I’m not. I never have been.”

She didn’t want to spell out for him all the means he had for controlling her, all the ways she’d already yielded. “I didn’t think you ever drank.”

“Not often.” His eyes were closed. “I drank after I first met you. That was the worst time. I went upstairs with Desirée, but she wasn’t you, so I didn’t want her. She tried, but I couldn’t do anything. I went out to the car—remember it was snowing that night? I’d driven myself, and I got stuck trying to drive away, so I got out and pushed. Of course I slipped and fell and knocked my face on the bumper. By that point I was in such a state I couldn’t do anything but go off downtown and find a saloon. I was plenty cold and wet by the time I got there. I started drinking, and I sat and thought about why you’d gotten under my skin with that one look. Why you, when I see so many girls? I could have so many girls.” He glanced at her, closed his eyes again. “When I saw you, I’d thought I could have you right then—I would have paid any price. But when it turned out I couldn’t, I found I was…I suppose I was devastated. Beyond all reason. I do know I’m stubborn. I know I like having my own way too much, but knowing didn’t help. So I decided the problem had to be you, specifically you.

“Usually before when I’d been drunk I’d been able to get to Kate. Or Sadler. Or someone’s been around to help, but that time I was all alone and all I could think about was how I might never have you. And there were other things that show up when I get this way. Old darkness. It wasn’t only you, but you’d brought it on. And there was too much snow for me to get anywhere, not out of Missoula, let alone to the ranch. I went walking around town—I don’t know what I thought I was looking for, but I kept stumbling into snowdrifts. I started thinking about how people say it’s not so bad to freeze to death because they say it’s just like falling asleep. So I walked down to the riverbank and found a nice deep snowbank, and I dug a little grave for myself and lay down in it. I was so drunk I didn’t even notice the cold, and I was so tired and so relieved to be somewhere quiet that I could easily have drifted off—I was drifting off—and then I happened to think, what if I could have you? Not buy you but earn you, persuade you. It wasn’t so impossible. It actually seemed simple. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Obviously you were too young—I would have to wait a while—but I thought I shouldn’t be hasty in killing myself. I could always do that later.”