They had checked into adjoining rooms at a Holiday Inn just outside of Seattle, but after what they had been through, she knew neither of them could bear to be alone. They opened the door adjoining their rooms.
“I’ll order hamburgers from room service,” he said, attempting to force her return to the familiar, the prosaic.
“That sounds fine.” The thought of food was revolting.
In the bathroom of her room, she took a shower, alternating between hot and cold, deliberately testing her tolerance, as if to validate her physical presence. When she had rubbed herself dry, she pulled her hair back and put on a bathrobe and returned to his room.
In his room, Barney was sitting at the desk, writing in his notebook. Their food had arrived on a rolling table. Their hamburgers looked waxy and unappetizing. He had pulled chairs over and poured a tall drink from a scotch bottle, which stood beside him on the table. When he finally looked, his demeanor was not as she had expected. He seemed inexplicably undefeated.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Why not?”
He got up, poured her a scotch, added soda and ice and sat down again at the table. He picked up his hamburger, taking big bites. She tried to do the same but could barely swallow. She washed it down with her drink.
“Know thine enemy,” he said when he had finished eating. In the camp, he had been reduced to a pleading supplicant. His recovery seemed remarkable.
“I can’t believe what I saw. Charlotte wasn’t completely there.”
“Seemed that way.”
He ignored her lukewarm response.
She remembered Barney’s earlier surge of hope. Could it have been self-delusion? she thought now. Charlotte was deep in a religious conversion, whatever else it may seem like. However it had happened, however it had appeared, wasn’t it still her right? The knowledge of her own doubt irritated her.
After awhile she noted that he was staring at her. It made her uncomfortable.
“Remember our moment?”
God no, she thought. Was he trying to seduce her, find solace in sex? She had not the slightest inclination. Keep the memory going, she told herself. Keep talking.
She searched her memory. Had there really been a moment? Perhaps. She’d grant him that. She smiled and tapped the table, not knowing what else to do. In a twisted way she envied Charlotte her bliss. No pressure. No doubts.
“You remember those moments,” he said. “Charlotte and I had our moment, too.”
She felt relieved and, oddly, also disappointed.
“That’s still in there. I’ve got to shake her loose, get her out, remind her of those moments. If I could just get her away from there. That’s step one. Inside that camp, she’s dead in the water. They won’t let her think.”
She shivered, drawing her bathrobe around her. It seemed too flimsy a shield and she took another deep swallow of her drink.
“Can you believe how she’s changed?” he asked suddenly.
“I didn’t know her before.”
She had tossed it to him like a barbed arrow. Barney had never come after me like that, Naomi thought idly.
“I met her on the beach, picked her up like a beautiful conch. When I talked with her, I heard the echo of myself, all that I wanted. She was so alert, so questioning. Her green eyes danced. She was an avalanche of questions. ‘Why this or that?’ ‘How come?’ That was her favorite. ‘How come?’ It used to exasperate me sometimes. But it never mattered. I liked to be around her. She only had a high school education. She wanted to be a model. Wasn’t thin enough. Yet, in my arms, she was as delicate as a flower. Sometimes when I looked at her at night, I used to say to myself, ‘How could such joy happen to me?’”
He was lost in himself. So he had found this naive girl on the beach and he had sold her on himself, she thought with bitterness. It was actually what she had wished for him during those first days apart. She had wanted him to find someone just like Charlotte. Time passed as his voice floated in the air between them. She listened perfunctorily.
“I’ll get her back,” he said again. And again.
He picked up the notebook from the table. “It’s all in here. Bearing witness. No detail has gone unwritten. It all goes in there.” He pointed to his laptop on the desk. “Everyone must know what I’m going through, what others have gone through. Everyone. The world is going to know what these people do. Maybe then they’ll understand. Change the laws. Do something.”
“I’d say you have your work cut out for you.” She heard her tongue slur the words.
“You think I don’t know that.” He thumbed through the pages in the notebook. “We just didn’t make the sale on the first pass.” His face suddenly brightened. “But we got in, didn’t we? That damned Sheriff didn’t think we could do it, and we did.” He slapped his thighs. “We did that. Now we know what we’re up against.”
His use of the first person plural galled her.
“I’ve got a couple of bombs to throw.” He stood and balled his fist in his palm. “I’ll unload that bastard’s wagons.”
He was getting up a full head of indignation.
“And that fucking Sheriff. I’d like to kick him in the balls, teach him a little bit about America.”
The image of him was becoming distorted. Naomi’s head was spinning. Still, she let him pour her another drink, hoping for her own oblivion.