White Dog Fell from the Sky - By Eleanor Morse Page 0,69

evening shadows.

“Let up, would you?” He felt disloyal going on, but he did. “The woman’s American, recently divorced. Alice is her name. She works in Local Government and Lands with C.T. what’s his name. She’s prematurely gray, nice body. Big bones. Not your type though. You go for the slim, frail sort.”

Roger laughed.

Something made Ian turn, and his eyes went hollow. Alice was standing there. And then she was gone.

“Bloody hell,” he said.

“You’re right,” said Roger. “Not my type.”

“Put a sock in it, man.”

“It’s her you’re running from, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. But then he said, “You know, forget about Nata. I need to stay the night in Maun after all, head to Nata with the rest of them in the morning.”

Roger laughed. “They’ll do that to you—you don’t know whether you’re coming or going.”

Fuck you, he wanted to say. But it was his own damn fault. “See you before long, old man. Maybe when I get to Nata, if you’re still about.”

He stumbled away toward his room, no idea how to make it better. Splashed water on his face and dried it with a towel. Changed his shirt, as though he were starting the day again, then looked in the mirror with a hard eye and said, “You stupid cock up.” He turned on his heel without saying another word to that sorry bastard in the mirror and headed down the steps.

He saw her from a distance, sitting with Will on the porch overlooking the river. Neither was speaking, just watching the night. If he joined them, she’d find the earliest opportunity to escape, and that would be that. He waited in the shadows of the building. And waited some more. He’d already made up his mind to clear out, and as those silly nits were fond of saying, God had provided. She’d never want to see him again. As it should be.

But still he waited. As his legs cramped, he treated the pain as a form of penance. His mind chattered. He wanted it to be still a moment, but his thoughts scooted out from beneath him. Something dark flew overhead. He’d never particularly liked Maun, as beautiful as the river was. Depressing expatriate community. A lot of heavy drinkers. Wives in various stages of desperation. People went bonkers in places like this.

Alice stood up just then. Will got to his feet too, waited until she’d gone a few steps, and sat down again, his feet propped back up on the railing.

It turned out it wasn’t in him to run her down. It wasn’t right. He’d scare her out here in the dark for one thing. For another, she’d know he’d been watching. So he left it and went to his room and thrashed under mosquito netting until the night was used up and its scraps had smudged into dark shadows under his eyes. By morning, he looked and felt like hell.

Alice was up early, still furious with him—the insolence of the man. She felt humiliated, angry with herself for being taken in. She stood on the veranda of the old hotel, trembling with something more than anger, something more vulnerable that she’d just as soon not admit to herself. The morning breeze came off the river. She’d intended to head down there, but the hotel owner’s little toy terrier had latched on to her, his front paws wrapped around one of her ankles, pumping away, his ears slapping against his eyes with his violent exertions. She shook her leg. “Get away, Ralph.”

She’d always been susceptible to fleas and had noticed the night before that welts appeared on her ankles when Ralph was near. She dragged her canine ball and chain forward, and when she got to the stairs, she thought of bumping him down, but he became satiated and let go. Still, he trailed her with his self-involved little snout. How did people ever love an animal like this?

“Go home, Ralph,” she said. “I’m going to the river. There are crocodiles down there who love little dogs.” His whole back end wagged. She headed instead for the road, hoping he’d peel off and cling to someone else. The wooden steps creaked, and Ralph trotted in front of her, his scraggly tail held high.

Nothing seemed to move or breathe. Her feet raised small clouds of dust as she walked away from the hotel toward town. She had no destination, but her feet walked faster, as though she did. He, that man, was back there somewhere, feeling what she