I had never ridden in an ATV. Norm set the gas can in a crate.

            “Hop in.”

            The bucket seat of this glorified go-cart wasn’t designed for comfort. I strapped in, and the only thing Mister Norm strapped was his hat. I had put my windbreaker back on and zipped it up to my Adam’s apple. Good thing. Breakneck speed got us down the driveway like a rocket sled. When I looked over a grin flashed as Norm’s mustache flew up.

            “Which way to your car?” he yelled.

            “To the left.” I shouted.

            He kind of slowed down but punched the accelerator as soon as he cleared the two-track. From this point on our conversation was more like two dogs barking at each other.

            “Having fun yet?”

            “Haven’t decided.” My response was vibrato from the washboard road. “Looks like you’re happy as pig in slop—if I’m saying that right.”

“Like a rooster at sunup.”

  I clutched the roll bar with one hand and a side panel with the other. Why didn’t he offer the dusty helmet laying on the hood of his pickup? I gave him a weak smile. We got to my car in less than a couple of minutes. Norm dumped the gas in the tank. Five gallons would surely get me to Shawquist.

            “Nice little car. Cute.”

            “Don’t patronize me, Norm.”

            “Not intended. Wouldn’t be my first pick, or fourth, but the gas milage must be stellar.”

            “Yeah, you’ve got to have skills to run out of gas in this thing.”

            “You have skills, Mark.”

            We laughed and headed back to his place. I clocked him at fifty mph. Unreal. When we got to his driveway, I thought about going past. He’d never see me again. All he knows is my name and town of origin. Norm didn’t seem like a guy who would make the effort of hunting me down. I turned in, if for no other reason, to thank him face to face.

            “Come on up to the house. I have some stew on the stove and a beer in the fridge if you’d like.”

            “Sure. Thanks.”

            The dogs followed me with their eyes, quiet as a goose feather. The front door squawked and banged, and I entered what felt like a place. His place.  

            “I’ll get the stew warmed up and the biscuits in the oven. Make yourself homely. At home, I mean.”

            Norm had books spread throughout the living room. Small clusters segregated by topic. One shelf had a smattering of Louis L’Amor, Jack London, with a copy of The Three Musketeers wedged in the middle. Another standing bookcase held “A Field Manuel…” of this, that, and the other thing along with “Dispatches” by Micheal Herr and other war related volumes.

            On his desk lay an open bible and some religious books off to the side. In a walnut frame on the other end contained a photo of a young man and woman dwarfed by the base of a giant sequoia. By the picture stood a couple of pipes on pedestals and a roughed up can of Union Leader tobacco.

            “That’s my wife and me, back before we started carrying each other’s baggage. Her name was Bess. We honeymooned in the Golden State. We got so lost in each other.

            “I know the feeling. Now I just feel lost.”

            “Hmmm.” The old man nodded, picked up the picture, and tapped the glass. “She was something, and something else.”

            Norm turned. “Mark, all is not lost. Feel like filling me in while the supper warms up?”

            “Well, yes and no. But what the hell. Excuse me, I meant heck.”

            “Ha, just semantics. Let’s sit for a bit.”

            I wasn’t sure where to start. I certainly didn’t want to cry in front of Rambo. “My girl is gone.”

            He kept his eyes on mine with a cleansing breath. I saw the dogs lounging in their studio apartment outside. What a life. Instinct. They hung around sniffing and hearing things and responding…or not.

            “Mark?”

            “Jen is dead gone. We went to Fiji to watch surfers, and maybe give it a go. The first day we hit the beach to lay around and swim. I watched her troll the shore for shells. Then she headed into the surf and dove about thirty feet out. When she came up, she raised her arms and signaled me to come in. Just then a big wave face-planted her. I laughed. When she didn’t resurface, I sprinted toward her. I swam frantically from one side to the other. I yelled her name and screamed for help. Some surfers came and fanned out, and after what seemed like forever, one of them shouted, ‘I found her!’

            ‘Three of us got her to the beach. Her body was limp, and her chest was still. We kept giving her CPR until the EMT’s took over. I felt so helpless and pleaded to God in one-word prayers. ‘God. Help. Please. No!’ The last time I touched her lips was when I tried to breathe life into her. I mean, what the hell?”

            The old man gazed out at the dogs. “Hell. An appropriate word. I’m sorry young man. That’s a heavy lift.”

            Norm headed toward the kitchen. “Sorry, gotta stir the stew.”

            What am I doing telling a stranger about my fractured mental state? I bared more to him than my own dad. Dad hugged me, and said he was sorry and all that, but there was disconnection. Even at the funeral he sat next to me, but in a dutiful way. Words weren’t my dad’s forte. I had hoped for a pearl of wisdom, a directive on how to move forward. Nothing. He worked through my mom’s death eight years ago. He should have had something. He didn’t throw me a bone. “Dog.”

            “What’s that?” Norm said form the kitchen.

            “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

            “Did you know that’s a sign of intelligence?”

            “What is?”

            “Talking to yourself. I mean, you have all those thoughts bouncing around inside your skull. Why not verbalize them and get them under control? Get ‘em out. Line ‘em up and send ‘em back through your ears to settle in.”

            “Interesting.”

            “That’s what I do when I pray sometimes. All the commotion, worry, stress goes up to God and comes down processed to fit in my brain better. It’s a mystery.”

            “A mystery,” I said under my breath.