was clear he didn’t.
Dad got back to the grill, and Russell followed Carmela into the house. Manny had meanwhile joined the Frisbee game.
Letitia was a great collector of things, and adept at their artful display. Russell stopped at the kitchen door to admire a collection of eyecups.
“Russ Pinske,” Letitia said from across the kitchen. He came in. Fortunately the daughters had inherited the fine features of their mother. With Carmela standing there beside her, it occurred to him for the first time that the kids all stood a good head or two taller than their parents.
“Russ Pinske,” she repeated, looking him square in the eye. Without the slightest trace of a smile she asked, “What are you doing here?”
He looked at Carmela, then back to her mother and answered, “I’m back in town for a while.”
She considered this with a tight-lipped hum as she continued chopping ingredients for a huge salad bowl. Without looking up, she said, “Russ, get out of my kitchen. Nothing personal, but men get in the way in my kitchen. You want to be useful, go clean this corn. Outside.”
He took the bag of corn and two empty bags and went to the kitchen door. Carmela winked at him as he left, then busied herself in her appointed tasks. He sat on the stairs, the bag of corn at his side, the two empty bags open at his feet. A screened-in gazebo stood halfway between the stairs and the pond. He could see part of the croquet game, and the Frisbee players occasionally drifted into view. The grill was out of his line of sight, but the smoke reached him where he sat, quite contented with his shucking.
Nestor stepped out of the gazebo, letting the screen door slam behind him. He lazily crossed the lawn, lifting a lanky arm in a sort of half-wave, half-salute to Russell.
“Hey, Russ,” he said, sitting down on the stairs. “When did you get in town?” He blinked his eyes rapidly, as though something irritated them. He looked tired. His clothes were wrinkled, and he needed a shave.
“Just this morning.”
Nestor ran a hand through his long black hair and said, “Yeah, Carmela said something, like, a month ago about you maybe coming to town.”
“Took me a while to get my act together, but here I am.” He tossed a clean ear of corn into a bag and got to work shucking another.
“She said something about you going on a road trip, something like that.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling people. I just want to get out and see the country, you know? See what’s happening out there.”
“Any real reason, or just to say you’ve done it?”
“Well, I’m hoping I’ll find something to get involved in, maybe someplace cool I want to live, some community to be part of. But I’ll be damned if I know what I’m looking for.”
Nestor grunted. “You might be more damned if you find it.”
Their eyes met.
“Well, what the hell you hanging round this shit-hole for?” Nestor blurted. “Get out—get out while you can. Go!” He grabbed Russell’s arm and mock-dragged him down the stairs. “Try to get to the county line before it’s too late!”
They shared a laugh, then Nestor continued. “Seriously, though, man, you stay around too long, and this place will get its hooks in you. Suck you right in. Suck you in so good you’ll forget you ever wanted to leave. That’s when it starts to quietly digest you from the inside out.” He paused, contemplating whether to continue in this vein, then pointed to the bag of corn. “Give me one of those. Shame on my mom, putting her guest to work.”
“Oh, it’s cool,” Russell shook his head and finished another ear. “I don’t really know anyone here. And I can hardly charm them with my Spanish.”
“I suppose,” Nestor agreed, husking the corn with muscular efficiency. “Well, you got your whole assortment here this evening. A few friends of the family, few aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews. All like that.”
Having vigorously stripped the husks, he now meticulously began removing the silk strand by strand. Russell watched his delicate movements.
“So, Manny told me on the way over here that you went nuts.”
With his intense concentration focused on one particular strand, he softy stated, “Man, you don’t know nothing till you’ve been through the wringer like I have. Goddamn.” He peeled off the thread and moved to another, isolating it from a tangle. “And now I’m always going to be ‘Crazy Nestor.’ Someday, ‘Crazy Old Nestor.’ As long as I’m around all these people, who keep thinking of me as ‘Crazy Nestor,’ see me as ‘Crazy Nestor,’ how can I not be ‘Crazy Nestor?’”
He removed his current strand of concern, and with a triumphal flourish cast it to the wind. He immediately singled out another strand and continued talking, almost in a whisper. “All I know is I got to get out of here any way I can, get away from all these eyes pinning me down as ‘Crazy Nestor.’ Got to make a clean break and head off where no one knows me. I think East Coast.”
Russell finished the remainder of the bag while Nestor continued his futile attempt to remove each tassel individually. He handed the uncompleted ear to Russell and said, “You finish it. I just can’t.” He got up, walked down the steps, stopped and said, “I don’t know if I’m going to make the big feed, so if I don’t, stop by the gazebo before you leave. I’ll be out there.”
Russell took the cleaned corn to the kitchen. Carmela met him at the door, set the bag on a counter and ushered him back out onto the landing.
“I saw Nestor out here helping you. He’s really been looking forward to seeing you, I know, ever since I told him you were coming. He seems all right to you?”
“Well, he’s Nestor,” Russell began. “You know, but he seems kind of nervous and distracted. But he’s always been kind of nervous and distracted, I guess, so who’s to say? He’s definitely still Nestor.”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. She wrapped her arm around him. “Hey, I want to thank you for your compliments on my embroidery work this morning. You really like it?”
“Sure, Carmela, it’s great.” He felt her enthusiasm swell, and he liked pumping it up. She unhooked her arm and leaned out over the railing.
“You know, like on consignment or something. It’d be great if some of them sold. I like to think about people wearing them, putting them on their tables, giving them as Christmas gifts or whatever. I just want to get my stuff out there in the world.”
One of the croquet players gave a shout that sent some ducks flying. She turned and smiled at him.
“I’m going to go boil that corn. Why don’t you play Frisbee? I see Manny down there with Luis.”
She went back inside, and he took himself over to the game. Dad waved when he walked by. Manny saw him and yelled, “Russ—go long!”
He sent the Frisbee flying. Russell ran to intercept it, fell short and dived for it, touching it with his fingers but not grabbing hold. He got up, brushed himself off and picked up the disc, to the evident delight of Dad, who shouted, “Hey,
