* * *
He must have fallen asleep because he did not hear the car drive up, nor for a time hear the two women whispering outside the door. He heard the knocking and the calling. He didn’t move. Nobody was supposed to know where he was. They continued to call. The knocking stopped. There was a long period of silence. Perhaps they feared that he was ignoring them in anger. Then it must have struck them that perhaps he was dying inside the room, so the knocking became more insistent. He did not move. He wanted them to go away.
He could hear them walking around the house. Clarice did most of the talking. She kept calling his name and then she started to shout. She was silent for a few seconds, then she sent Delores to check the back for a door. Delores said she could find no entry. Perhaps he wasn’t there and Harry was wrong. Was there another cottage nearby? Delores thought it better that they left. Clarice wouldn’t leave. She said he could be dying inside and in need of help. Delores didn’t say anything. Clarice began to knock on the door again. She kept calling his name.
He stayed still. His eyes were open now. He thought about what he must look like. His shorts were filthy but he had already worn the red ones so much that it became painful to put them on. He had grown used to the smell of his body. He made sure to keep a clean shirt and trousers in his bag for his return trip to town. He’d have to hitchhike home so it was important that he at least looked decent. His hair and beard hadn’t been combed for days. The knots were tight and hard. He didn’t want them to see him like that.
Clarice had started to push against the door. He thought of getting up to open it, but his body did not respond. He just lay there smiling and wondering whether she would manage to break it down. Clarice was a determined woman. Delores’s attempts at discouraging her were futile. Delores said that perhaps somebody else lived there and it could be very dangerous if they came home and found two women trying to break in. Clarice told her to either shut up and help or just go and sit in the car. Delores shut up and helped.
The door was rotten so after a few blows it cracked and Clarice got her hand through to unlock it. The room was filled with glaring white light. They had parked the car directly in front of the door and the headlights were on. He turned his head and squinted into the glare. Clarice stood with her legs slightly apart, silhouetted by the light. She was wearing a light skirt and her legs were outlined through the fabric. She whispered his name with caution. He kept staring. His eyes dripped. Delores leaned against the door looking away from the bed. He watched her. Clarice walked into the room and moved toward the bed. When she was very close, he moved. She stopped and called his name again.
He sat up on the bed and propped his chin in his hands, his elbows pressed into his thighs.
“You alright? You alright?” Clarice peered into his face. “Your eyes are red.” He closed his eyes. “This place is a mess, man. Where is the window? Delores, don’t just stand there, open the windows, eh?” Delores moved quickly to the window in the bathroom. She did not look at him. She stayed in the bathroom.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’ tell anybody where you were. What is wrong with you? Mama is very worried about you.” Clarice was moving around the room trying to create some semblance of order. After a while she gave up. “Hey? Hey? Talk to me. Are you alright?”
He stared into a corner of the room. He wanted them to leave. He began to smell the room properly now. The waft of air from the open window and the cracked door stirred up the latent musk. He chuckled to himself.
Clarice said: “Delores wants to talk to you. Now hear, she didn’t want to come so don’t get upset and start bawling her down, but I think this is pure foolishness so you better talk to her. I mean, you must be gone mad, man. She deserve better. It’s alright if you want to vex and confuse everybody else, but this woman hasn’t done anything to be made a fool of like that . . .”
“Clarice, please . . .” Delores said from the bathroom.
“You see? She is afraid of you. Anyway, right is right. Please. Explain yourself, sir.” Clarice stood in front of him. He stared at her feet. “My God. You haven’t even combed your hair!” She placed her hand on his head and raised it so he had to stare at her face. She had on makeup: pink lipstick—he hated that; she must have come straight from work. “You look bad, sah. Delores, come out of there. Come. Talk to him.”
He got up and stretched. Clarice stepped back. He got down on his knees and reached under the bed for his sneakers. He sat on the bed and slapped them on the floorboards. Then he pulled them on. He ignored the laces.
“You can’t just change your mind about a wedding, okay? There are other people involved, not to mention Delores. You can’t be so selfish, man. People will start calling you a madman.”
He got up and moved to the bathroom. Delores moved away from him as if he was a madman. She sensed something disquieting about his silence. She was afraid. He turned on the tap and splashed his face.
“Look, you better say something. The cake is still there, the food is spoiled, but we can work that out. Delores’s parents will sue if this thing doesn’t happen . . .”
“They won’t . . .” Delores’s voice trembled.
He turned to her and felt a deep pity. He could only see a shadow for her face but he could feel her fear and despair. She looked so small and vulnerable.
“They will,” Clarice said with emphasis. “Now, you better get your act together . . .” She stopped as he walked past her toward the door.
He turned around and looked at them, smiled slightly, shook his head, and then continued. Stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his shorts, he trotted down the stairs. He stooped for a few seconds to regain his balance, then his shadow cut through the light and vanished into the dark.
“Come, Delores. He wants to go home now,” Clarice said. But when they did not hear the car door open they looked out and saw him walking toward the edge of the woodlot. Clarice shouted his name. He did not turn around. He continued walking steadily until the forest swallowed him.
He felt the wetness of the thicker grass in the bush. He could hear the two women talking to each other. He watched as Clarice ran to the car and started it up. Delores stayed at the door. Clarice maneuvered the car toward the spot where he’d disappeared. He stood behind a tree as the lights glowed through the bushes. She moved slowly, the car rocking on the tractor-tire marks. When the lights were off him, he moved farther away, though still at the edge of the bushes. She blew the horn and shouted his name. She did this for about ten minutes and then she stopped the car. The air of the lot was cut through by the din of crickets and frogs. After another five minutes, Clarice moved the car back to the shack. Delores stepped down to the ground and walked toward the car. Clarice stepped out and they stood beside each other staring directly at him in the forest. They remained in silence for another few minutes until it became clear that nothing would happen.
“Let’s go,” Delores said. “Let’s go.”
The car bumped through the woodlot toward the dirt road that led out to the brightly lit highway. He stepped out of the bushes and stood staring at the car. One of them must have seen him, because the car stopped. He stayed still. He saw Clarice’s shadow emerge from the car. Slowly, Delores’s shape emerged as well. He did not move.
“I thought you said you saw him. You see him?” Clarice asked.
“It was nothing. Just a shadow,” Delores said, moving back