Union Atlantic Page 0,39
dirt-like texture that made Nate gag. The Brita was passed around and it took them a glass of water each to swallow down the bitter mush. Ingestion complete, Jason slipped on some panic-retarding French pop, all mild falsetto and ethereal synth. The night's opening gesture made, they recommenced their lounging. Half an hour or so passed as the disco scrim luffed in the air about them.
"One day," Hal said idly to Jason, "I think you'll run a cult. Not in a bad way, at least not at first. We'll read about you on an island with lots of women and children, all of you awaiting some astral bus. My career will be over by then, at twenty-eight or-nine, and I'll wonder if I should join you."
"Listen," Jason said, "here's a public service announcement, okay? The free-association thing - it can be a problem. I mean, 'astral bus'? That's the kind of thing someone could just catch on, and before you know it, we're lost. Think of it like meditation. The thought comes and the thought goes. You're not the thought."
"I'm just saying I think you'll run a cult."
"Okay," Jason replied, "okay."
Heavy liquid began to pool at the back of Nate's skull. He lay down beside Emily and closed his eyes, the afterimage of the ceiling lamp burning like an eclipsed sun on the backs of his lids.
"Shit," Emily said to no one in particular.
The music came in waves now, cresting in the middle of the room, sloshing against the walls, and dripping onto the floor before rising once more above their heads.
"Dinner's almost ready, guys."
Seeing Mrs. Holland standing in the doorway, the four of them came to shocked attention. "Why don't you clean this place up, Jason? Your friends don't have to put up with your laundry, do they?"
She wore a white rayon dress belted with snakeskin and sipped a clear liquid from a tumbler held firmly in both hands.
From across the room, her son glared at her.
Smiling vaguely at the other three, she laughed, as if to say, Isn't he a card? and then turned away, leaving the door open behind her.
"Now that," Hal said, "is the mama matrix most mysterious."
"Save it," Jason snapped, rising to close the door. With his back to it, he made as if to address them, though as he parted his lips to speak, something on the carpet hauled his attention off, and like a general trying not to evidence distress before his troops he had to master himself anew before speaking "We've got a situation," he announced. "There's less time than I thought. We need to get down there and we need to consume some of that food in an orderly fashion. You understand? It's early going. We can handle it. We just need to act quickly."
Hal stood, tightened the belt of his bathrobe, and shouted, "I'm ready."
"This is a very bad idea," Emily said.
But Jason was already out the door and they were following him down the curving staircase.
THE HOLLANDS' KITCHEN appeared roughly the size of a tennis court. Seeking a base of operations amidst this vastness, they made for a distressed farmhouse table on the far side of the room. When they got high in the car, Nate could let sensation spill over with no interference from the world. Not so now. Circumstance had forced him to his own personal battle stations, where he waged a desperate campaign against the inner flood.
"I'm on this wacky Listserv," Mrs. Holland called out from the range, "with these old friends of mine, and who knows who else for that matter - anyone, I suppose, everyone - the terrorists!" She cackled. "Anyway, someone sent out this crazy thing professing to be a Sumerian cookbook. Can you imagine? Julia Child running around Mesopotamia four thousand years ago. Lunatic really. But I thought I'd give one of these cold dishes a try. Lucky for you Whole Foods didn't have yak. I used venison. With this river grass they're all enthused about. None of you are on a silly diet thing. Emily, you're not doing one of those, are you?"
"No," Emily said, her hands clutching the edge of the table. "I'm on a regular-food diet."
"Well, consider it part of your multicultural education," Mrs. Holland said, pouring herself another drink. "You know Jason's father is all in favor of that sort of thing. Such a progressive man."
"She's headed for a meltdown," Emily whispered to Nate. "I've seen it happen."
Nate glanced at the other two, trying to gauge their coordination,