He’s been wrestling with conscience for months now, they are old spar-ring partners, sometimes he pins it to the mat, sometimes it slams him, it doesn’t really amount to much, it’s a show, like wrestling onTV.And besides:the worst sort ofremorse is preferable to what preceded it, which was the infinitely greater agony oflonging for Iris.Remorse is the payment due for the fulfillment ofhis great desire.And it is, finally, a payment he was willing to make.No, it is not his conscience that churns sickly at the center ofhim, making him cringe inwardly when Hampton steps too close to him.It is fear, physical fear.
They continue to walk, hoping to find a clearing, a way out.Once, most ofthis land was pasture, grazed by cattle, but it hadn’t seen a plow in over a hundred years and left to its own had become a wild place.They climb yet another hill.This one might have been steeper—because they both have to hold on to trees to pull themselves up—or else they are getting tired.
And once they have scaled it, all they can see is more trees—except on one side, where there is a sharp drop-off, leading to what looks like a large pond filled with black water.
“We came from that direction,”Hampton says uncertainly.He points down the hill upon which they stand, and offto the left.The night is gathering quickly, the darkness rushes in like water through the hull ofa ship, covering everything.
It seems to Daniel that they have walkeddownthe hill, as well as walking up it.In fact, they may have traipsed up and down it three or four times.But he chooses to not argue the matter.
“All right,”he says.“I have no idea.”He touches the Roman candle in his back pocket.Maybe set it offright now, before it got any darker.But how much darker could it get? Better to save the flare for later, ifneeded.
“Do you know how to get out ofhere?”Hampton asks.
”No.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Fine, lead the way.”
They halfwalk and halfslide down the hill, with their arms in front oftheir faces to protect themselves from the saplings.
The problem is there is no space to walk in;the woods have imploded.They seem to be walking in circles, corkscrewing themselves into oblivion, continually tripping over vines, stumbling over fallen trees, getting scraped by branches, stomping into sudden pools ofstill water, sometimes walking right into a standing tree.It is as ifthey are be-ing toyed with.Isolated in their despair, they walk for halfan hour with-out speaking.
Then, suddenly, a little stretch where last month’s storm seemed to have done little damage.They walk for three minutes without having to change course.And though they don’t know which direction they are going in, the mere fact ofkeeping a constant course gives them a bit of encouragement.They are not, after all, in the middle ofsome vast un-charted wilderness.They are only a hundred miles north ofthe city.How far can they go without ending up on some stretch ofasphalt or in someone’s backyard? But then they reach a devastated grove oflocusts, the saplings with bark spiked with thorns, like giant, petrified roses.
There are so many ofthem down on the ground, or leaning against each other in a swoon, that it would have been impossible to get through them or past them even in daylight.
“I think we’ve already been here,”Hampton says.
”Really?What makes you think so?”
In the blindness ofthe night, Daniel can sense from the quality ofthe silence that Hampton is glaring at him.
“What makes me think so?”asks Hampton.His voice seems completely unconnected to his feelings;even in anger, it is melodious.
“I think we’re making progress,”Daniel says.
”Well, we’re not, we’re going in circles.”
“Hampton.I’ve been following you.All right?”
“We’re going in circles.”
“Well, you’ve been taking us there.”
“Daniel?”
“What?”
“Can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.What?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
There is a rock nearby, embedded deeply into the forest floor and covered with moss and lichen.Hampton tries to scale it, hoping to see a break in the woods, but the soles ofhis shoes are slick, and as soon as he stands on the rock he slips and falls hard onto his hands and knees, and just stays there, with his head down, for several moments.
Daniel goes to his side, touches him softly on the shoulder.“Here,”he says.He puts out his hand.Hampton’s fingers are hard and cold;he grasps Daniel’s hand like a statue come to life.Daniel steps back and pulls Hampton to his feet.It is strange to be touching this man who once had, and is now losing, everything.
“You know,”Hampton says,“even in the dark I can still sort ofsee you.Your white skin picks up every little bit oflight there is.”
“Yeah?”
“I guess you can’t see me at all, can you?”
Daniel doesn’t want to say no;he just shakes his head.He wonders if Iris’s scent is on him—surely Hampton would recognize it.He moves a little farther away.This great secret life suddenly feels like groceries coming out ofa wet paper sack.
“What’s it like being lost out here with a big oldAfrican-American man who you basically do not know.”
“What are you talking about, Hampton?”
“Just that.I’m curious.I see white people all the time, but I rarely have the opportunity to ask them certain things.Do you know many black people, Daniel?”
“A few.I used to know more.Out here, it’s more difficult, obviously.”
“But here’s where you are, it’s what you chose, youmovedhere.”
“Not to get away from black people.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Ifyou want to know the truth, I think my prejudice goes the other way.Black people have something I’ve always wanted.”
“Rhythm?”
“That’s ridiculous.”He backs still farther away, stumbles, rights himself.
”All right.Sorry.What is it we black people have that you’ve alwayswanted?”
“Family.Community.”
Hampton laughs—a sudden, rude bark ofamusement.
”I know how it sounds,”says Daniel.He searches his mind for something to substitute, some innocuous generalization, something admiring ofblack people that won’t seem too utterly stupid and condescending.
Hampton is silent.He takes a deep breath, a man controlling his temper.
”Is that what you see in Iris?”he finally asks.“Someone in touch with her feelings who can put you in touch with yours?”
So here it is,thinks Daniel.A kind ofexhaustion ofstrategy begins to overcome him, a growing incapacity to dodge and maneuver.The lies he has told weigh him down, it is as ifthey were stones with which he has filled his pockets.His psychological step is increasingly heavy and un-sure.One day, Daniel thinks, Hampton will replay this conversation in his mind and every lie he has told will be vivid and repulsive to him.But, for now, Daniel must stay the course.
“I see everything in Iris,”Daniel says quietly.
”Don’t be deceived by her skin and her hair.She’s as white as the bankers I see down in the city.”
“Let’s not do this here, okay, Hampton?You want to talk about this,
I’ll talk about it.But let’s get out ofthese woods, go someplace where we can sit down.”
“So you’re making the rules?”
“I’m asking.”
Another silence.Daniel hears Hampton exhale.
”Fine.Wait here for a second, all right? I have to urinate.”Even this announcement is made in Hampton’s public speaker’s voice.
There’s a break in the black sky and the platinum moonlight pours down on them.The whites ofHampton’s eyes glitter.His shirt is dirty, his trousers are covered in burrs and black with mud at the knees.