Barn - Part Three
So here's what we learned yesterday. Our narrator, who once fooled around with Dave, invited him to stay in her barn. Dave's been broken up since his dad, Ed, died. But Ed died, he was also married to our narrator's sister, Sarah. Dave was Ed's son from a previous marriage. Turns out they didn't get along so well. Our narrator's husband, Berne, doesn't know the complicated backstory either; she eased her guilt about the ex- in the barn by telling him she'd have their child. Now you're ready for part three...
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When Dave came to live in the barn, he told me that he was going to start a new life. No more drinking, he said, and no more girls. Good, I said. We can begin our new lives together. He broke both rules the first week -- I saw a small box of empty bottles stacked against the wall, and once I knocked on the barn door and heard noise inside but no one answered. When I asked him about it, he denied that there were any girls. I told you, he said, that I have a new life now. He was propped up on pillows on a narrow board he used as his bed, sketching with a piece of charcoal.
What are you drawing? I said.
Pictures of the things I can't do anymore, he said.
I didn't care what kind of rules he broke. What did I care? Berne was less generous. He grumbled about Dave: why would we let a man like that into our home, especially when we were trying to begin our own life together. I could see him getting angrier and angrier, but it's not like Berne to do anything other than grumble. Finally he asked me flat-out if there was anything between me and Dave, and I said absolutely not, and he asked me if I was telling him the truth, and I just stared at him like he was crazy.
Sarah asked me why I didn't tell Berne the truth. Because he wouldn't understand, I said. I guess not, she said. Who would understand that a nice girl like you had a thing for that dirty little drunk?
Are you still thinking of moving? I asked Sarah. Ever since she caught the bouquet she had been telling me that she needed to get out of town. On weekends, she was going to Lincoln, and there was a guy there she was seeing sometimes.
I don't know, she said. This town isn't doing much for me. I have a little money from selling the hardware store. I am seriously thinking about getting out of here.
Would you go to Lincoln? I said.
I don't know, she said again. The problem with this guy is that he wants a family. But I'm not sure I can have kids, Sue.
You can, I said.
Are you a doctor? she said.
Yes, I said.
For a long time, Berne and I weren't getting pregnant either. He thought it made me sad, and he bought me lots of presents: another necklace (this one had a cross), another scarf (this one was blue), another hat (it looked just like the first). I didn't like the necklace or the hat, but I loved the scarf. I wore it all the time, and even Sarah agreed that it looked like a dream on me. But then I lost it. Berne never seemed to notice, and I certainly didn't mention it. Then I got pregnant, and it didn't seem to matter anymore. Berne told me that the baby was a girl, that he was sure of it.
I want to name her Laurel, he said, after my father's mother. If it's a boy, I don't have any ideas.
One day in winter, I was out in town, getting some things for the house, and I came home to find a note from Dave on the counter. It said he couldn't stay anymore. It thanked me for my generosity. It told me that we would always be special to each other, even without Ed, even without the hardware store. It said that there was a painting in the barn for me, the portrait of the woman that Sarah and I liked so much. It didn't mention Berne.
I went out to the barn. Even before I got there, I knew that there was someone inside. Dave, I said. What's with the note?
But it wasn't Dave. It was Berne. He was standing over Dave's bed, looking down on what was left there, the twisted bedsheets and the portrait of the woman Dave had known in Lincoln. As I came through the door, Berne turned and made a blue fist at me. I say a blue fist because that's what it looked like. It was actually his normal-colored fist, but it was wrapped inside a blue scarf. What is this? he said.
It looks like my scarf, I said.
I thought you lost that scarf, he said.
Yes, I said. Where did you find it?
The fist tightened, and took some of the creases out of the scarf. I found it, he said, inside the barn. Where Dave sleeps.
Why would he have my scarf?
That's what I'm asking myself, Sue. Why would he have your scarf?
I don't know, I said.
You don't know, he said. Do you know why he would write a note to you saying that you would always be special to each other?
No, I said.
And do you know why some of the guys downtown made jokes when he moved in here?
No, I said.
And do you know why they would say that once upon a time Dave and you were sneaking around?
No, I said. What guys?
Ed, he said.
Ed? I said.
Yes, he said. He used to talk about you and Dave to anyone who would listen. And he sounded proud. I think he imagined that you and Dave would end up together.
When we were kids, maybe. Not after I got married, Berne, I said.
Am I a fool? he said.
No, I said.
It must have been the wrong thing to say because he stepped up and hit me. He had never hit me before, so I didn't really understand what was happening. When I figured it out, I also thought that the scarf would cushion the blow. But his knuckle was poking out through a wrap, and it caught me right on the cheekbone, and I fell backward.
Berne stood over me. He was trembling. Then he unwrapped the scarf and threw it into the air. It opened up and came down slowly, like a parachute, and before it hit the ground he was gone from the barn.
