Tale of the Taconic Mountains. Mike M.D. Romeling
George exploded with relieved laughter when he belatedly realized Nelson had made a funny and the tension on his face melted like late March ice. This was why he loved Jimmy; the guy had class, which somehow had always meant to George that maybe he did too, at least by association. No one else had ever made him feel that way, not even his own wife. They really must start getting together again even if Marge was gone and even if they wouldn’t be able to raise hell like in the old days.
“I remember you never let me read the manuscript like you did when you wrote Valley Fires. I still keep that right on my living room shelf, Jimmy. That was a great one.”
“Well you always were a loyal sonofabitch, George, which is more than I can say for this goddamn committee. And listen, what about that old fart, Maynard? They let him gallivant all over South America last year. How do they justify that project and not mine?”
George stiffened up again, sensing they were returning into dangerous and uncomfortable territory. “Well you know, Jimmy, Maynard found and translated a bushel of South American poetry while he was there and he discovered Ortiz and brought him back here. I mean, we’re talking major league talent with Ortiz and we get him for a year right here at little Millbank. Know what I’m saying, Jimmy? There doesn’t look to be that kind of return on your proposal.”
“Jesus, what are we here, a lousy bank or a university?”
“It’s just the way it is, Jimmy.”
Nelson sat back in his chair and sighed. He didn’t want to say anything mean about Ortiz because he himself happened to believe some of the writing coming out of South America was fucking great. Always had been, actually. But it had lately become a bit of a craze. And now, ever since that silly Castenada had spouted his phony mysticism, people were wandering off down there looking for holy men and mushrooms and poets and revolutionaries—it was all so goddamned chic that it was now becoming stupid.
“George, I’ve got such a good novel running around in my head. I can almost taste it. I was going to keep a journal too; was going to record what it was like, after ten years in academia, to be writing again in isolation. Just me and the mountains; just me and fucking Mother Nature. Hell, they might have gotten two books out of me for the price of one. Did the bastards even consider that?”
“I think they did, yeah, but...uh...well maybe I shouldn’t even say this.”
“Say it anyway.”
“But...”
“Say it right now, George.”
“Well, something was said about Thoreau having covered that ground sufficiently. Something like that. Can’t remember exactly.”
“Which one of them said that?”
“I can’t tell you that, Jimmy. That’s why I wish I hadn’t said it at all.” George sighed miserably.
“It was Crickshaw said that, wasn’t it?”
“Come on, Jimmy, cut me a break here.”
“Yeah it was Crickshaw, you don’t have to tell me.” Nelson could see Crickshaw now, peering above his pathetic red bifocals, whining, “I trust we hardly need pay one of our own staff to treat this old ground when we can simply urge our young sluggards to read some Thayer-row,” putting the emphasis on the first syllable with his prissy, phony accent. Then he would have smiled inanely around the table where he no doubt received obedient nods of approval if for no other reasons than he had been at the college for about ten thousand years and besides, they knew soon he would begin farting in the small windowless meeting room, unaware himself because he was growing increasingly deaf.
“You know, George, I’ll bet no one in the universe gets paid as much as Crickshaw does just to be self-importantly senile.”
George finally weakened and took a handful of the candy corn, sliding the glass bowl toward Nelson who waved it away dismissively. At this point George badly wanted to have this unhappy meeting come to a merciful close. Trouble was, he hadn’t a clue how to accomplish it. Dusk was settling around Millbank now and the sounds from the open window were becoming more noticeable. There were shouts and laughter from passing students below and the wind rustled in the shiny leaves of the massive red oak that shaded the building.
Nelson turned toward the window and could see the lights coming on in the dormitories on the far side of the fountains. Suddenly the day seemed old and stale. When he turned back again, George was watching him closely, almost warily.
“What are you thinking, Jimmy?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes I do,” George said, “because I’m worried that you’re thinking I should have been able to pull this off for you, but maybe I dropped the ball.”
“No way, George. Don’t even think about it.”
“Cause if you do, I’ll feel like shit for the rest of my life. I did everything I could, Jimmy, I swear I did. I wish I had more clout around here but I just don’t. Not about things like this.”
“Don’t worry about it, George; it’s not your fault.” Nelson was feeling irritated that after all this, he was now supposed to stroke George into feeling better.
“But look, Jimmy, the committee was unanimous in saying if you wanted a leave of absence there was no problem. We just can’t foot the bill.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’ll just do that. And when I come back, maybe it won’t be here I come back to. I’ve got some money saved.”
“Good. I hope you do it, Jimmy. Maybe give you some time to straighten things out and stuff.”
“You mean with Marge?”
“Well maybe...how is Marge anyway? You know everyone asks me and I have to tell them I don’t know and then they look at me like they don’t believe me.”
Nelson felt himself descend yet further into the pits. First he had to listen to dismal news and now he would have to dredge up his matrimonial state, such as it was—or wasn’t.
“Oh I don’t know, George. She’s back in Pittsfield now living near her mother on the lake. I go down every other Saturday and take Denny out to eat or to the movies or somewhere. Sometimes we even have dinner at her house. We fake it with Denny, as though this is all something temporary even though I don’t think we believe it half the time ourselves anymore. Time will tell I guess.”
George screwed up his courage and said, “You know, Jimmy, it’s hard to see how you could patch things up as long as you’re running around with someone else. Tell me to shut up if you want, but I’m your friend and I have to ask if you’ve really thought this thing through. I mean, yeah, this girl you’ve got hanging on your arm is cute and she’s young and she’ll muck around with you on your mountain climbs and your motorcycle and whatnot, but do you want to throw everything away on this fling? What about Denny? You know Sarah and I would have killed to have a kid and it never happened. Know what I’m saying, Jimmy?”
“Marge left me first, you know.”
“Well, I just hope you make the right choices here, Jimmy. We all do, you know.”
Nelson looked curiously across the desk at George. “Wait a minute now; I get it. You’re bringing all this up to let me know my personal life had something to do with the committee’s decision. Am I right? Hell, don’t bother answering—of course I’m right.”
“Maybe. Remember, Jimmy, this was a divinity school not that long ago. Old traditions linger on.”
“Yeah, well so does cat shit.”
George forced a laugh. This was the cool, funny Jimmy again and he wanted to keep the cool Jimmy going until the meeting was over. “Sort of like that I guess, yeah.”
“That’s disgusting; do you have any idea how many people around here have skeletons in their closets? I can hear