Mohawk

so unwilling to be consoled.
    He never entirely lost that expression, it occurred to her. There was traffic now as she neared Albany, and the idea of driving all the way to New York for a fancy breakfast had lost most of its appeal. She turned off at the Northway Exit, then missed a turn that would have put her back on the Thruway heading home. To hell with it, she thought. The road she was on had to lead somewhere. They all went somewhere.
    She had seen Price only once after the day he broke Randall’s nose. He’d gone back on the road the next day and never called. Someone told her a few months later that he wasn’t living in New York any more. In a way she had lost both of them at once. Randall had not wanted her to protect him, and even when the boy was healed, he never again encouraged her to hug or kiss him. She sometimes thought that perhaps he had seen her as a woman for the first time that day. Or as just a woman. Or maybe as the cause of it all, because she was a woman. He looked at her strangely, almost as if he had walked in and caught her and Price in the act of love. She didn’t think he stopped caring for her. He just seemed embarrassed to.
    Two years later, she saw Price again. In the meantime Dan’s accident had occurred, and she used her father’sillness as an excuse to return to Mohawk. One Saturday afternoon shortly after her visit, she came home from work to find the television on and Randall slipping into his room. And there was Price. The show was “Speaking of Sports.” He looked trimmer than the last time she had seen him, and he acquitted himself well, far better than the other men, most of whom were clearly afraid of the camera. Price said some funny things, and when he laughed it was in response to the funny thing, not to himself for having said it. Anne was happy to see him again, so well, but was surprised to discover how little she’d missed him.
    Now the rain was hard. The windshield wipers could hardly keep up, and Anne had no idea where she was. She was on two-lane black-top, and the occasional neon signs along either side advertised businesses that were dark and deserted. She could only guess that she was heading in the general direction of Mohawk. Finally the rain was so severe that she didn’t dare to stay on the road, so she pulled off into the half-deserted parking lot of a shabby motel. She sat there for nearly ten minutes, feeling odd and hopeless until she recognized this as the motel where she and Dan had come some twenty years before. There was a new sign out front, but she was certain. The road was busier then, and the buildings that lined it more prosperous. One needed no crystal ball to see into their future now. There were only twelve units, and when Anne could not remember which one she and Dan had taken she began to cry and couldn’t stop. When she awoke, though the light was gray in the east and she was very cold, Anne felt better. For some time she couldn’t shake the conviction thatif she just sat there long enough, Dan would drive up, get out of the car—the same one he’d been driving twenty years ago—and take her by the hand. He would know which room was theirs, or perhaps it wouldn’t matter.

37
    Officer Gaffney’s brother Rory lives in the last house on Division Street, a dead end on the other side of the highway. Technically he’s outside city limits, and Officer Gaffney isn’t supposed to take the cruiser into the county unless he’s in pursuit. Still, it’s only a matter of a few hundred yards and no one around to report him. So he drives on up the hill, switching the headlights and ignition off and coasting to a stop. A light’s on in the rear of the trailer.
    The policeman closes the door quietly and puffs up the drive. Never trim, he has lately put on considerable weight, confident that no one will give him grief in his last year before retirement. He stops at the house to peer into the living room. His brother is stretched out on the Lazy Boy, watching television and wriggling his fat toes in the glow from the screen, the only light in the house. After catching his breath, the policeman takes the path through the trees to the trailer, making more noise than he’d like and cursing under his breath. The bedroom window curtain doesn’t quite reach the sill. Inside, the girl is fully clothed. The air tonight is chill, especially for late April. Officer Gaffney watches for a few minutes, hoping, then retraces his steps throughthe