1. 1. Chekovs Gun by Eugene H. Davis Writing as Bobby Blue Duluth 2015 All rights reserved All fathers are invisible in daytime; daytime is ruled by mothers and fathers come out at night. Darkness brings home fathers, with their real, unspeakable power. There is more to fathers than meets the eye. Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eyes There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Hamlet Chekhov's gun is a dramatic principle which requires every element in a narrative to be necessary and irreplaceable, and for everything else to be removed. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there." Anton Chekhov (Memoirs, 1911) Dedication To Jonathan, my son, who taught me the meaning of love To Chris, my wife, for her fortitude To my teachers, John Yount, Thomas Williams, Henry Miller, and of course, Honore de Balzac 1
2. 2. Chapter 1: Daniel Anyone could see he was a sad man, a man who had suffered one of lifes terrible blows the loss of a loved one, a child or a spouse, or a disappointment that cuts so deep there is no assuaging turning him into one of the walking dead. He sat ramrod straight on the seat of his black Escalade SUV, a ministering hand at noon on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, seeing but not seeing the fleeting landscape of blue and green flora bordering the White Mountains Highway. North, in the distance, lay the slate-colored high ridges of the White Mountains, where glacial cirques gouged the mountain backs as though skived by the hand of a thick-fingered God. Empty cans of Red Bull littered the floor of the cab, shifting like flotsam with the SUVs languid turns, attesting to the long, solitary, sleepless drive hed made from Florida, non-stop. He drove on, beyond tired, his determination and will as rigid as the flinty rock for which New Hampshire, his home state going back forty years, was known. His eyes flickered from the road as he opened the glove compartment. A matt-black semi- automatic, nestled efficiently in its canvas holster, attested to his decision. He shut the compartment. Arbiter of life and death, its finality gave him momentary peace of mind. Then the assault of images and feelings, of shame and self-recrimination, returned with a vengeance. He pressed the gas pedal, anxious to put an end to his suffering. He was coming home to die. 2
3. 3. Chapter Two: Jens & Teddy Driving a late model all-wheel-drive Subaru, Jens Corbin and his son Theodore, Teddy for short, were approaching the crossing of the White Mountain Highway and Route 16 near the town of Ossipee, New Hampshire, when the black Escalade blew past them. Holy good shit! cried Teddy. Whats he doing a hundred, hundredn ten? Jens steadied the wheel against the blowby, which sucked the Subaru into its slipstream like a tractor trailer. Eight thousand pounds of gas-guzzling road hog, he said, disgusted. Watch the language, son. They average what about 15 miles a gallon? Thirteen city, eighteen highway. Researched that boat once for a story about a neer- do-well who killed his wife for the insurance money and the first thing he did with it was buy one. MSRP of around $70,000. Jens, a mystery writer, was full of bits and pieces of information that he wove into his novels and short stories. I seem to recall it has a V-8 generating around 400 horse power. Now, Im impressed! Howd you know that? Teddy shrugged. TV commercial, I guess. To any one born and bred in the conservative atmosphere of New England in the late 50s like Jens, driving an Escalade was like giving everyone else on the road the finger, vigorously. He exchanged looks with Teddy. Asshole, they said simultaneously, breaking into laughter, 3
4. 4. Theyd set out earlier that morning from home in southern New Hampshire Lee to be precise headed for their log cabin at the foot of the Black Mountains, to spend the Labor Day weekend hiking and fishing. Jens glanced at Teddy, a lanky fifteen-year-old on his second growth spurt, making him a half a foot taller than his dad. Hey, theres a convenience store coming up see it? Teddy pointed to a mini-mall they were approaching on the right. How about stopping for a juice, dad? Jens glanced over at his boy with a look of pride and amazement. Teddy was perennially hungry. Hed devoured all of the ham and cheese sandwiches his mother had packed, along with boiled eggs. Not untypically, shed forgotten to pack water. Now Teddy was practically choking on the dry eggs. Ive never seen a kid put it away like you do. Cmon, dad, Im dying here. Jens signaled and pulled off the shoulder into the parking lot of the convenience store aptly named Foothills Pickup. As they exited the car, he pushed from his mind his perennial concern for his son, who suffered from attention deficit and processing issues, which materialized primarily as an utter disinclination for anything academic; ergo his poor grades. By compensation, apparently, he was vitally interested in all things pertaining to working out, marijuana, girls, and X-box. Jens tried to recall his own pre-occupations at that age. Yes, he told himself, SEX was definitely an obsession then. But so were books and plays and theatre and art. His wife accused him of being too hard on Teddy; not accepting him as he was 4
5. 5. limitations and all. She warned him that his severity with Teddy over his studies was planting deep seeds of resentment in his son. This weekend Jens set himself the task of not showing his disappointment and simply enjoying the boys company. Hey, pal, how about a meatball sub while were here put some mass on them bones? He grasped him around the bicep and squeezed. As they entered the store, a mechanical bell rigged to the door went off. Teddy broke free. Meatball, he leered, continuing his running joke on all words open to salacious interpretation. Jens shook his head in mock disgust, fulfilling his end of the ritual. Hed come to fathering late in life, in his 40s, and couldnt help indulging this boy, his only offspring, who brought him back to a time of innocence and promise. Teddy made his way to the cooler and found a bottle of the brand of apple juice Jens knew he liked. He brought it to the counter and waited. Jens drew himself a coffee from the urn of gourmet blend and smiled at the dowdy, middle-aged cashier behind the counter. How you keeping, mam? Jens began, planning, for Teddys benefit, to win her over with a touch of his old school charm. He knew he sometimes broadcast an air of importance that translated on occasion as charisma. But not today. She stared at him, a sheen of sweat on her brow, despite the droning air-conditioner. Not without sympathy did he surmise her boredom and the banality of her life, struggling to make ends meet. Teddy winked at him. Mojo not working, dad? he whispered. 5
6. 6. Jens didnt let her attitude deflate his good mood at the prospect of being with his son and spending time at the cabin, away from Viviane, who mothered them to death or ignored them completely, obsessed with whatever new painting she was working on. Will that be all, coffee and juice? said the clerk, her voice a breathless rasp. Jens nodded as he added a dab of milk to the coffee and watched it dissolve in a muddy cloud, sending his thoughts back to the scene hed been writing the previous day of a body face down in a tidewater pool framed by sea grass. Like all of his crime novels this was his fourth it began with the discovery of a body, the corpus delicti, attracting details of revelation with seasoned reliability. But that wasnt happening he was blocked and had been for weeks. Despite his experienced patience, an array of corpses in situ had come and gone, but none had triggered the usual flow of imagery, character, and plot needed for writing a novel. The shucking of the cash register drawer as it opened brought him back to the present. He reached into his jeans, extracted a bill, and paid. The woman behind the counter kept her silence as she made change, though Jens noticed her labored breathing. He started to ask her if she was all right but stopped himself, knowing that his attentions would likely not be appreciated. Locals were notoriously standoffish, especially to tourists. And proud. It was no accident that the New Hampshire state motto, displayed on their license plates without irony, was live free or die. Sure you wont take a fruit tart with that, Teddy? They look fresh. Jens jutted his chin toward the glass display case. Teddy shook his head. He took a swig of juice and awkwardly hugged Jens. Thanks for the drink. He pulled back. Tart, dad? he guffawed. This time Jens laughter was genuine. The contradiction, of affection and innocent vulgarity, was not lost on him he took it as a sign of youth and treasured it while he could. 6
7. 7. He took his change just as a dusty, black Escalade SUV pulled up outside. He got Teddys attention and pointed at the SUV. Look whos here. Jens, a people-watcher by inclination as well as professionally, collecting slices of real life characters to populate his novels, had developed a game with Teddy over the years. It involved speculating on a strangers profession or identity. Jens nodded to Teddy and they resumed what they were doing, observing the stranger casually. A youthful older man with a shock of white hair got out of the SUV, stretched, and entered the store. Jens watched him go to the drink cooler. His was face was lined with fatigue. He returned to the cash-out counter with two cans of Red Bull. He seemed in a hurry. But otherwise, thought Jens, he was like everyone else no horns, no hooves, no tail peaking from his pant leg despite the Escalade. Jens registered the older mans aloofness and air of authority. Putting aside his prejudices, he decided Mr. Red Bull fulfilled a position of importance in life, despite being retirement age. Next Jens noticed his well-formed manicured hands, which were incongruously delicate for a man his size. Aside from a modest gold wedding band, he wore no jewelry other than a watch. From his research for an earlier novel, Jens recognized the make. He glanced at Teddy, directing his eyes to the watch. White Gold Rolex Presidential, he whispered, 18k Gold dial with diamonds and sapphire markers. Teddy, who enjoyed playing this familiar game with his dad, nodded. Distinctive, elegant, and very expensive, he whispered back. 7
8. 8. Jens smiled at his sons word choices, which constantly surprised him with their sophistication, despite his sons aversion to reading. It reminded him of the precocious transitional words and phrases Teddy used as a first grader, like incidentally, in contrast, and decidedly, which amazed his teacher, though she thought him slow in other respects. That watch would pay the taxes on the house in Lee for the next few years, answered Jens. Jens took in the rest of the man. He was wearing wrinkled though quality twill cotton pants and shirt, in earth tones, the kind ordered from upscale mail catalogues. Jens noted the clothings light ply, suggesting he was from down south. Jens glanced outside at the mans dirt-caked Escalade, looking for a plate to confirm his suspicions, but the SUV was parked nose in, and there was no plate in front. He conjectured that likely meant southern origin, again, though he knew that a few mid-western states also displayed a solitary tag in the rear. Summing it all up the tasteful accessories, the car, the mans bearing, and his hands, precisely because of his hands Jens decided on his occupation and origin. Hes from Florida, he whispered to Teddy. A doctor, most likely; a surgeon maybe. I get Florida. What makes you think doctor? His hands, check out his hands. Strong and delicate educated hands. Teddy nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, the woman behind the counter rang up the strangers sale. Want a bag? She put a hand to her throat, her face reddening as she labored to take a breath. 8
9. 9. The stranger shook his head, observing her with intensity, Jens noticed. As she was reaching for his money, she suddenly gasped and clutched her chest, her face contorted with pain. She stumbled back, fingers outstretched, clawing the air for purchase. Cant breathe! she cried. She flailed her arms, pulling bags of chips from a stand, strobing the shelves of cigarettes, cigars and candy behind her, sending everything scuttling to the floor. As she went down she sucked for air, her eyes filled with terror. Jens bolted into action, charging around the counter to where the woman lay. He stooped beside her, observing the panic in her eyes, her livid face, her rigid body. He looked up at the older man. Overcoming his reserve, Jens spoke bluntly. Im going to take an educated guess here. I know you know whats wrong with this woman and what to do about it. I can see it in your eyes. Youve been treating conditions like this for years. Youre a doctor, arent you? The man didnt reply, his mouth drawn, his silence an admission. Jens was losing patience. The womans hands went to her throat and she heaved desperately, unable to draw a breath. Then her eyes closed and she fell back limp, her skin pasty with sweat. Jens knew she was going to suffocate if she didnt get air. Teddy, he yelled. He tore his eyes away from her, found Teddy. Call 911! Teddy came around the counter and scrabbled for the phone in its cradle on the wall. Jens slid his knees under the cashiers head, lifting her gingerly, overcoming his reluctance at handling a stranger. 9
10. 10. In the background, Teddy could be heard reporting the nature of the emergency and their location, his voice rising shrilly as he struggled to encapsulate the problem. Jens looked up at the older man, who seemed to observe the womans condition and Jenss desperation with a combination of forbearance and ambivalence. The stranger came around the counter and stooped beside her, his movements steady and economical, as he positioned her on Jenss knee so that her head was raised. Then he took her hand, felt her pulse, pried open her eyelids, and noted her labored breathing. He seemed to nod to himself, certain of his diagnosis. He groped in the womans pockets. He turned and probed under the counter, finding the womans pocketbook and dumping the contents onto the counter. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, he stood and scanned the immediate shelves. What do you need? asked Jens, voice strained. Aspirin, he answered. Shes having a heart attack. Apparently this is her first; otherwise shed have digitalis handy. Have to thin her blood, he added. Jens exchanged looks with Teddy, who dropped the phone and peeled off toward the aisles, hands fumbling along the shelves until he found the aspirin. Which kind? he shouted, holding a handful of bottles aloft. Bring the lot, answered the older man. Teddy spilled his cache on the counter. The old man scanned the labels on the bottles, broke the seal of one, removed the lid, and shook out two tablets. He stooped beside the woman, forced open her mouth, and inserted the tablets between her teeth. He manipulated her jaws, forcing her to bite down on the aspirin and masticate. He 10
11. 11. massaged her throat until her swallowing reflex took over. Within a few minutes her breathing subsided and the color returned to her face. She opened her eyes. Where am I? she croaked, her voice a whisper. She clutched at her heart. It hurts something awful. Youve had a heart attack. The older man stood. Youll be okay until the medics arrive. In the meantime, just rest easy. Jens looked at him in disbelief. You cant leave now she needs you. He held Jenss eyes for long moment, started to speak, shook his head. He walked to the door without hesitation, pulled it open, and left. Soon after, the emergency medics arrived and took over, administering digitalis after learning of the womans symptoms from Jens. Jens was told that he had saved the womans life by giving her aspirin, but he said no, he hadnt, it had been the other gentleman, Mr. Red Bull, for lack of a better appellation. When the two young medics, one overweight and sweaty, the other buff in a too-tight nylon jacket, looked at him, he laughed self-consciously. We didnt know his name, Jens explained. So, we decided to call him Mr. Red Bull because thats what he came into the store for, Teddy added. While one medic secured an oxygen mask over the womans face and checked her vitals, his partner hoisted her onto a stretcher, huffing. 11