Viator

—I’ve been having this dream, he said. It’s an awful dream, terrible, not like a dream at all, really. It’s more like a place I’ve been given to see. Hardly anything happens. But it keeps coming back and…I’m not sure what to make of it.

He described the dreams, focusing on the one he had dreamt that morning, and when he had done, she said, You need to get off that ship.

—I don’t think it’s the ship, he said, feeling an odd flutter of alarm.

—I wasn’t talking about the ship itself. I’m talking about the isolation, and those crazy bastards you’re isolated with.

—I suppose you’re right. But, uh…that’s where I’m stuck.

—You could move in with me. On a temporary basis. Until we can find you your own place. That is, if you’re planning to stay in Kaliaska.

Surprised, he said, That’s very generous…and flattering. But Lunde wouldn’t approve.

—Lunde! The way you talk about him, it’s like he’s your lord and master. Your Moses.

—He’s been generous to me, but he’s not my master. Just an old man who runs a temp agency.

—But what do you know about him? This is such a weird thing, this job! He may be using you for something illegal. A swindle, maybe. Maybe he’s using your residency to establish a claim or…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.

—Whatever his motives, I need the job. And he specified that we had to live on the ship.

Arlene roughed up the ground with the toe of one sneaker and stared down at the furrow she had dug. What I’m saying, why don’t you tell Lunde you quit? I can use you fulltime at the store.

—I can’t do that! He said this more vehemently than intended and tried to compensate for his bluntness by saying, I’d feel I was shirking my responsibilities.

—You’re starting to sound like the people you’re complaining about.

—I don’t mean my responsibilities to the job. If that were all it was, I’d move in tonight. You know that, don’t you?

She sat with her folded arms resting on her drawn-up knees; a breeze moved some strands of hair that had been tucked behind her ear down to feather her cheek, and he gently brushed them back. She gave no sign that she noticed his show of affection, her eyes pinned to the trading post, where a group of teenagers on their way home from school, identifiable by their energy and the pink and red and turquoise packs on their backs, were jostling one another.

—The other men seem to be deteriorating, Wilander said. I’m worried what might happen if I leave.

—Are they having bad dreams as well? Arlene asked coolly. Is that a symptom of their deterioration?

—I haven’t asked…but I get your point.

—Do you?

He slipped his left arm about her waist, the knuckle of his thumb grazing the underside of her breast. We’re still trying to see whether we fit together, he said. You agree?

A pause, and then she nodded.

—I’ve wanted to say certain things, he said, but it was too early to say them. I’m not sure I have grounds to say them, given where I’ve been the past few years.

—You know that doesn’t matter!

—But now, I think we’ve reached a point where somebody has to say something. You know, make a declaration. Would you agree with that?

—Yes…maybe.

—Well, I’m going to take a stab at it, okay?