Free Trailerpark by Russell Banks Page B

was a good one, she insisted, so that, despite her lack of skill, the system worked and consequently every one of her animals was clean, well-fed and watered at all times. “You can’t ask for much more in this life, can you?” she said proudly as she led Merle to the door.
    He guessed no, you couldn’t. “But I still think you’re headed for troubles,” he told her, and he opened the door to leave.
    â€œWhat do you mean? What’s going on?” Suddenly she was suspicious of him and frightened of Marcelle Chagnon again, with her suspicion of the one and fear of the other swiftly merging to become anger at everyone.
    â€œNo, no, no. Not troubles with Marcelle or any of the rest of the folks in the park. Just with the breeding and all. I mean, Flora, in time there will be too many of them. They breed new ones faster than the old ones die off. It’s simple. There will come a day when you won’t have any more room left in there. What will you do then?”
    â€œMove out.”
    â€œWhat about the animals?”
    â€œI’ll take care of them. They can have the whole trailer, they’ll have lots of room if I move out.”
    â€œBut you don’t understand,” Merle said calmly. “It goes on forever. It’s numbers, and it doesn’t change or level off or get better. It gets worse and worse, faster and faster.”
    â€œ You don’t understand,” she said to him. “Everything depends on how you look at it. And what looks worse and worse to you might look better and better to me.”
    Merle smiled, and his blue eyes gleamed. He stepped down to the ground and waved pleasantly at the grim woman. “You are right, Flora. Absolutely right. And I thank you for straightening me out this fine morning!” he exclaimed, and whistling softly, he walked off for Marcelle’s trailer, where he would sit down at her table and drink a cup of coffee with her and recommend to her that the best policy was no policy, in the matter of Flora and her guinea pigs, because Flora would be more than capable of handling any problem that the proliferation of the guinea pigs might create.
    Marcelle was not happy with Merle’s advice. She was a woman of action and it pained her to sit still and let things happen, especially things that seemed to her to have no other possible consequence, if let go, than disaster. But, as she told Merle, she had no choice in this matter of the guinea pigs. If she tried to evict Flora and the animals, there would be a ruckus and possibly a scandal; if she brought in the health department, there was bound to be a scandal; if she evicted Flora and not the guinea pigs, then she’d have the problem of disposing of the damn things herself. “It’s just gone too far,” she said, scowling.
    â€œBut everything’s fine right now, at this very moment, isn’t it?” Merle asked, stirring his coffee.
    â€œI suppose you could say that.”
    â€œThen it hasn’t gone too far. It’s gone just far enough.”
    Â 
    At this stage, just before Christmas the first year of Flora Pease’s residence at the trailerpark, everyone had an opinion as to what ought to be done with regard to the question of the guinea pigs.
    F LORA P EASE : Keep the animals warm, well-fed, clean and breeding. Naturally, as their numbers increase, their universe will expand. (Of course, Flora didn’t express herself that way, for she would have been speaking to people who would have been confused by language like that coming from her. She said it this way: “When you take care of things, they thrive. Animals, vegetables, minerals, same with all of them. And that makes you a better person, since it’s the taking care that makes people thrive. Feeling good is good, and feeling better is better. No two ways about it. All people ever argue about anyhow is how to go about feeling good and then better.”)
    D OREEN T