Free Crow Fair by Thomas McGuane

one of the low points and yet another hint that my idleness was so complete that I no longer remembered to flush the toilet.
    By way of placating my instantaneous loneliness in Ann’s absence, I decided to visit the Jewells and find out why anyone would get so involved in remodeling such a plain house, one probably built on the cheap to judge by the rusty stovepipe sticking out the top. Their place was so close, I almost didn’t need to drive, though I did so very slowly, without listening to the radio or anything else as I thought about why I was doing this at all. I figured that it was a bit like having a drink, just a matter of changing gears. I didn’t know why Ann would want to join the Clearys. Was she that bored? Did I bore her? I certainly wasn’t entertaining myself. So going to visit the Jewells was not just a matter of breaking the ice with inscrutable neighbors but, frankly, to get myself out of our settled cottage with itsold trees and vines, even for a half-mile journey to what looked like remodeling hell a mile down the road. Would the Jewells peek at me through a crack of their front door and ask what I wanted? Would they pretend they weren’t at home? Either way it would be more interesting than killing time while I waited for Ann to return. A pleasant jolt of the unfamiliar ought to have been within my capacities. I might cook it up as an enchanting tidbit for Ann.
    I felt newly alive as I looked for a place to park in front of the Jewells’ house amid the building supplies, camper shell, cat travel crates, cement mixer. Two things struck me: the drawn curtains and pirate flag fluttering from the pole in the front yard. Also, the manufacturer’s stickers on the plate-glass windows had not been removed. As I passed the upended canoe going to the door, several cats ran out, one climbing the only tree in the yard. When I knocked, the door opened so quickly as to confirm that I’d been observed.
    “How did you find a place to park in all that junk?”
    Jewell’s teeth were big for his face, or he was just too thin for them, but his smile was intense and welcoming all the same. We were nearly the same height, so his eager proximity was especially notable. I found myself leaning back. He was very glad to see me!
    “I thought we’d never meet!” he cried. “Bruce.”
    “Well, here I am!” I exclaimed, sounding exceptionally stupid. “Bruce.”
    “You can say that again!” Was Jewell being ironic? The all-knowing look you get when you buy rimless glasses seemed at odds with his guileless enthusiasm. I was confused. “We don’t allow smoking,” he added. For just a moment I thought, Jewellwas fucking with me, but the thought passed as I followed him into the house, his windmilling arms leading the way. That he was barefoot was not so remarkable given that he was at home, but it seemed at odds with his somewhat-spiffy attire, slacks and smoking jacket. Bruce was a little younger than me, and painted toenails might have been a generational thing I missed.
    “What’s with the pirate flag?”
    “Oh, Nell and I have a kind of game. I pretend I’m a pirate, and she’s a royal prisoner.” Jewell shifted into a guttural “pirate” voice: “You look after the old lady and I shall see to the daughters.”
    “Is that Blind Pew?” I asked.
    “Oh God, no. Anyway, at first we were going to be cowboys—here’s my study—and then astronauts. At the moment, it’s pirates, but who knows. Nell, thank goodness, has a private income. Being a programmer was more a matter of my personal dignity, but oh well, what’s the use of that? Life is short, don’t you agree, might as well enjoy it.”
    Opening the door to the study, Jewell called out, Ed McMahon style, “Heeeeeere’s, Nell!” And indeed there she was in a prospect of piled Lego pieces, with a large picture of the finished model thumbtacked to the wall next to her: the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “She’s already done Big Ben. So, she’s ready