The Almanac of the Dead: A Novel by Leslie Marmon Silko Page B

had got drunk together—her, David, and Beaufrey—on 180-proof Haitian rum. Beaufrey had been in Haiti on business. They never talked business around her. With Haitian rum Seese saw “apparitions.” “You mean hallucinations,” David said. But apparitions had been the term the nuns used. Apparitions were full of beauty and wonder and holiness.
    On the flight to Tucson there was a guy who looked so much like Eric that she had felt a pounding in her ears. Once the plane was in the air, she made a trip to the lavatory so she could take another look, so she could make sure. As she sat on the cold lid of the commode, her hands had been shaking so hard she could not get the tiny spoon to her nostril. She had to tell herself to breathe deep and to relax. The cocaine helped. When she moved down the aisle past the man, she saw that his face was not nearly as handsome or kind as Eric’s had been. When the flight attendants brought drinks, she bought two rum and Cokes although they warned the flight to Tucson would be short.
    Seese could not remember seeing the hills and trees or the ocean after Eric’s suicide. They had done a lot of traveling after that, but she had no memory of it. She had tried to distract herself with new landscapes when they traveled, but after Eric died, Seese had been unable to remember anything except disjointed arrivals and departures in international airports.
    She had not actually seen Eric’s body. Only the photographs. David’s photographs, but somehow that had been worse. All she knew was that something had happened to her eyes, something had diminished her vision.
    In air turbulence the jet airliner alternately bucked and shuddered. Seese thought of children’s books with storm clouds illustrated as big horses—wild-eyed, tails streaming down into rain and mist. From theblue and black storm horses it was only a flicker of thought to Monte. The doctor had said it was better not to dwell on him—especially not to imagine him at times or in activities that had never happened. Of course it was all right to remember Monte as he had been. Seese let go of the idea of the children’s books. She did not think she had ever seen a book that turned thunderclouds into galloping wild horses. She looked around at the other passengers and at the back of the head of the Eric look-alike. She was proud of only a few things, but one of them was that she was as fearless as her father had been about flying in jets. He had flown navy jets and had been gone on carriers for months at a time. On his visits home, he rented single-engine planes and took her with him. He had to fly every day, he said. He didn’t care what kind of plane. He loved flying. What Seese remembered best was the moment the two of them had returned to the house. Her father had bragged to her mother, “Seese is a born flyer, just like her daddy.” Her mother had only shaken her head. Seese’s mother never liked to fly.
    The thunderclouds near Tucson had caused turbulence. The other passengers were restless and some were airsick. The flight attendants were finally able to move through the cabin to take airsick bags to the lavatories. The captain was on the PA soothing the passengers. They had passed the storm. The captain used the slow, easy tones her father had used with her to announce his new assignment to the biggest, newest carrier in the Pacific fleet. That had been the good news. The bad news was the divorce. Everyone at her high school, well, nearly everyone, had had a divorce in the family. The school counselor said it was because their school had so many pupils from military families.
    Out the window Seese saw long lines of blue landing lights outlining the runways. In the dim light she could see the grass and weeds between runways bent to the ground by strong winds. Ah, Tucson. What a nice welcome, she thought as she swallowed the last of the rum. The only places that had worse dust storms than Tucson were Albuquerque and El Paso.