Once More Into the Abyss by Dennis Danvers Page A

enough of the words to get the sense. Then out of nowhere, an unmistakable eruption of joy, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” It’s positively orgasmic. It’s overwhelming to hear it. Her joy is the world to me.
    She bursts into the bedroom, her phone clutched to her breast like it’s responsible for her good fortune. “I got a job! They must’ve had hundreds of applicants. Thousands! It’s a real dig—I’ll be an archeologist again! There’s even a place for all of us to live!”
    â€œWhat about the dogs?” Dylan asks. If he hadn’t, I would’ve. The dogs are ancient. Avatar’s fifteen and Myrna sixteen. Though she’s a little more with it than he is, the best they can manage some mornings is to stumble around the neighborhood without bumping into anything, sleeping and farting together in whatever sunlit patch of rug they can find. I’m not sure how well they’ll travel.
    â€œThe dogs will love it!” Katyana declares. “It’s beautiful. You said so yourself when you drove us all the way out there and back.” Her eyes meet mine, and she lets that last part sink in a bit.
    Holy shit. “We’re talking about the abyss ?”
    She nods excitedly. “It’s an incredible opportunity! The first serious archeological exploration of the site!”
    Oh joy, the incredibly weird and scary site. “That’s wonderful!” I declare and hop out of bed, wrapping my arms around her. She beckons to Dylan, and he pops inside our circle and smiles up at us with perfect love and trust in his eyes. You poor kid, your parents are alien looneys , I want to say but don’t. He already knows. His mother and I try to practice total honesty with the kid, a perilous policy if there ever was one, but so far it’s worked out spectacularly. Someday, before I die, I aspire to be as together as my kid. “We’re going to New Mexico!” I tell him. “It will be a wonderful adventure!”
    Katyana used to be a working archeologist with the highway department, then the recession hit, road building ground to a halt, and any archeological digging would have to be done the old-fashioned way. Funding was scarce to nonexistent. Thousands of archeologists chased a handful of jobs. For the last twelve years she’s worked at mostly shitty, lifeless jobs. To see her like this fills my heart with joy. I’ll follow her anywhere. And I wasn’t lying to Dylan. This will be an adventure. Filled with wonder. Alien portal, geological oddity, or archeological treasure trove of enigmatic artifacts—take your pick— any journey to the abyss is an adventure, though in my two previous visits, I never managed to make it all the way. Third time’s the charm, they say.
    *   *   *
    The sun hasn’t even set on this news, and the three of us are gathered around a battered road atlas on the coffee table to show Dylan where we’re going. It’s the atlas Katyana and I took before he was born to call on Dylan’s biological father who lived just shy of the abyss, who didn’t care to get involved in Dylan’s pending birth or his life thereafter.
    So when he arrived, I took on that good fortune, much to my continued delight, relishing each second—his and mine. We’re telling him our version of this epic journey, and he’s enthralled, though he’s heard it all before, when Katyana’s phone rings again. She sighs when she sees the source, but this time doesn’t leave the room, and we can all hear the tinny voice on the other end. Is she the daughter of Simon Deetermeyer? she’s asked, and she confesses, bows her head, wondering what trouble her wacky old man’s gotten himself into this time, only to learn he’s dead in New Mexico, an apparent suicide. By this time, she’s sobbing so hard I take the phone away from her. “This is Katyana’s husband.