After breakfast they stopped at a Salvation Army store, where Thom noticed a used paperback of Martin Eden on a table outside. He wanted to buy it because they’d just stayed at the Jack London. “It’s good we didn’t stay at the James Joyce,” she said. “You’re a little young for Finnegans Wake.”
At the bus station she asked the clerk for two tickets to Bent. “There is such a place, isn’t there? Or it could be Ben.”
“There’s Bend.”
“Yes, Bend,” she said. “Of course, Bend. Is there bus service there?”
“Or there’s North Bend,” the woman said helpfully.
“Are they close to each other?”
“You’d think they would be, but they’re in different directions altogether. Bend is south and east of here and North Bend is on the coast next to Coos Bay, if you know where that is.”
She didn’t, but it didn’t matter. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “Is there bus service to Bend?”
“There is, but we don’t go there. Trailways does, though. You know where their station is?”
She didn’t, but the woman gave her directions and it wasn’t far. Their timing was perfect; there was a bus leaving for Salem and Bend in forty-five minutes.
The ride to Salem took less than an hour on the Interstate. There half the passengers got off and a handful got on, and they headed south and east on Route 22. The road wound and climbed its way through the mountains, and the bus stopped at every little town it came to, and it took all day to get to Bend.
When they arrived her inner vision was perfect. She knew just where to go, and without hesitation she led Thom through the little bus station to the street, where a man with a visored cap was sitting on the fender of a rusted-out Ford and reading a newspaper. He asked if she needed a taxi and when she nodded he took their suitcases and put them in the trunk.
She asked if there was a motel called the Pine Haven. There was, he told her — just south of town on 97. The Pine Haven turned out to be a U-shaped one-story structure of twenty-seven units. It had modest rates, a small pool, cable TV, a 7-Eleven next door and a Wendy’s across the road. It also had a vacancy, and they took it.
“This is neat,” he said. “They even got HBO. I wonder what’s on.”
“Something wonderful, I’m sure.”
“Hope so. That pool looks pretty good. Did I bring a swimming suit?”
“Wear a pair of shorts.”
“Underwear?”
“No, regular shorts. I know I packed your blue shorts, and they’re polysomething, they’ll dry overnight.”
“Won’t it look weird?”
“Do you really care?”
He thought it over. “Not a humongous amount,” he decided, and threw himself down on a chair. “We’re here, huh? This is it?”
“We’re here and this is it.”
“We weren’t supposed to go to North Bend instead?”
“No.”
“‘This is the place.’ Isn’t that what Brigham Young said when he saw Salt Lake City?”
“His very words.”
“When was that they told us?”
“I forget. Eighteen-something.”
“No, I mean when was it we were there. Yesterday? No. Wait a minute. We were in Portland last night, yeah, yesterday morning we were in Salt Lake City. ‘This is the place.’ And he wasn’t even going blind.”
“Well, different strokes for different folks.”
“Different visions for different decisions. Hey! Did you hear that?”
“Not bad.”
“‘Different visions for different decisions.’ I like that.”
“Your cleverness is matched only by your modesty, sport.”
“Thanks,” he said. He puffed his cheeks, blew out air, slapped his palms together and then against his thighs to simulate hoofbeats. “Now what?”
“Take a swim, if you feel like it.”
“Yeah, but what I mean is now that we’re here, now what?”
“They’re very close.”
“Who are?”
“Our friends.”
“We’ve got friends coming?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who are they?”
“Two men. One is taller, with dark hair. The shorter one has a beard.”
“And they’re coming here? Do they know us?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
She looked at him. His image dimmed for a moment before her eyes, then sharpened. She said, “Thom, I got the name of the town. I missed it by a letter, but I got it. And I knew about the motel.”
“And the cafeteria in where was it, Omaha. You’re doing great, Mom.”
“You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“No, of course not.”
“Okay. I don’t think so either, but sometimes I’m not as sure as I am the rest of the time. What’s happening is there are two men coming to Bend. They’re on their way now, and they should get here soon. I don’t know exactly when. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not for another day or two.”
“How will we know when they’re here?”
“We’ll know.”
“Okay. You mean you’ll know, and you’ll tell me.”
“Right.”
“Meanwhile I’m going swimming. They won’t think I’m a jerk if they see me swimming in regular shorts?”
“They’ll think you’re a man who makes his own rules. Thommy? I should have thought to pack your bathing suit. We’ll get one for you tomorrow or the next day.”
The following day she sat out by the pool gazing down the highway. He spent part of the time swimming, part of it reading and watching television. At mealtimes she sent him over to Wendy’s and he brought back food for the two of them.
Her eyesight was almost gone. It seemed to her as though she saw demonstrably less every time she opened her eyes, and that what little sight she had left was something she was holding onto by a thread. On the one hand she had to hold onto it, and at the same time she had to let go, it would be such a relief to let go.
With her eyes closed she kept seeing them, walking up the road, one with his hands plunged into his pockets, one talking, gesturing broadly with his hands.
Oh, she saw so much.
She waited, but they didn’t come that day. The next morning she woke up knowing they’d be there soon, and she sent Thom across to Wendy’s and waited for him in a chair beside the pool. They ate breakfast there, and then he went in to watch a Clint Eastwood movie on HBO.
After lunch she had him sit out at the pool with her. “They’ll be coming very soon,” she said. “I want you to watch the road for me. They’ll be walking on this side of the highway, and they’ll be coming from the right.”
“Two men.”
“The taller one is wearing a knapsack.”
“What about the shorter one?”
“He isn’t carrying anything.”
“Well, he’s got the beard. I guess that’s enough.”
“Just watch for them, will you?”
“Is it okay if I read at the same time? I’ll look up every few minutes.”
They sat together, and then she must have dozed off, and something stirred within her just as he touched her arm and said, “Mom?”
She opened her eyes. For a moment she saw nothing, nothing at all, and she thought that the last of her eyesight had gone, but then it came back, just the narrowest beam of sight, and she looked as if down a very long tunnel and saw two men at its very end.
“Go to them,” she told him. “Tell them your mother wants to see them.”
“Just tell them that?”
“Go.”
She stood up. It was a tricky business walking; she had to look down to see her feet, then had to raise her eyes to see what was ahead of her. It was easier, really, to close her eyes and trust her feet to find their footing.