Free Outer Banks by Russell Banks Page A

to groups of men who were said to have influence in Washington in ways that would somehow benefit the POWs. But I could never quite understand how POWs or their wives could benefit from a more aggressive war policy, so I dropped out of the group. I took good care of my sons and our home, saw Ben about once a month, and just sort of cooled my heels for a while.
    12.
    Gradually, I became used to the idea that I was on my own and, therefore, had no choice but to take care of myself. I enrolled in night school and got my high school diploma with an ease that astounded me. I went on a diet and exercise program and studied yoga at the Sarasota YWCA. I started sending Rory to a readingclinic, because of his disability, and no longer insisted that the boys get their haircuts where their father had always gotten his. I started trying new foods, exotic dishes, and occasionally took in an X-rated movie with Ben. I took driving lessons, got my license and borrowed the money from a bank to buy a Japanese station wagon.
    Rex would have forbidden me to do all these things, if he’d been here, and when the war is finally over and he has been repatriated, he will come home again, and I hope we both can sit down and cry for what has been lost. If he can’t do that, I will leave him.
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    T HE E ND

11

    1.
    It was morning when their jumbo jet was ready to descend, and by then Egress and the Loon were both quite drunk.—Boy, oh boy, Loon, I feel like havin’ a party! Le’s take some speed an’ stay up four days ‘n’ nights in a row! It ain’t every day y’get back from a goddamn pilgrimage, y’know! the king cried to his diminutive friend.
    â€”Hoo haw! Hoo haw! Hoo haw! the Loon carefully responded. He knew how wild the king could get when he was drunk.
    Champagne glasses in hand, the two staggered out the door of the aircraft and walked unsteadily through the arrival gate.—They ain’t no one here t’ meet us, the king observed, surprised.
    â€”And it’s a good thing, too, the way you’re dressed, the Loon said, pointing at the king’s grain bag, which was spattered with caked mud, champagne, salt spray, dried semen.
    â€”Yeah, I guess you’re right, the king agreed, and they walked to the taxi stand, got into a cab, and instructed the driver to take them to the palace.—Toot sweet! the king said flirtatiously.
    â€”Going to see the queen? the driver impertinently asked. He was a bent-over, long-haired hippie type who closely resembled a ballboy who’d once worked at the gymnasium.
    â€”You betcha! Egress said heartily. He loved the fact that the driver didn’t recognize him.—I’m gonna fuck ’er, he confided.
    â€”Yeh. You and everybody else, the driver said, winking.
    2.
    When the cab pulled up at the palace gate, the Loon saw the handwriting on the wall and decided to seek cover.—Say, Egress, I’m going to split for my place, okay?
    â€”Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, Egress said, thinking only of Naomi Ruth and how happy she would be to see him again.
    As soon as he reached his tree house, the Loon made a few quick phone calls and confirmed his suspicions. Just as I suspected, he thought. The queen has taken over. He made one more call, found out when the next bus left for his small, southern hometown, and packed a large suitcase with most of his belongings, his simpler, lightweight clothes, his chambered nautilus, his five favorite records, three favorite books, four favorite autographed photographs of movie stars, and his thumb-sized lump of hash.
    The Loon was not a prophet, actually, but with regard to political matters, he was practically clairvoyant. This was doubtless because he himself was as apolitical as a four-year-old child. With his talent, he ought to have been made the premier political advisor in the state. But, ironically, the very thing that gave rise to his talent disqualified him as a councillor: he had no