Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved.

. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

NICK EARLS
WELCOME TO NORMAL

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

A Vintage book Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd Level 3, 100 Pacic Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060 www.randomhouse.com.au First published by Vintage in 2012 Copyright Nick Earls 2012 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au /ofces National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry Earls, Nick, 1963 Welcome to normal / Nick Earls. ISBN 978 1 86471 154 7 (pbk.) A823.3 Cover photograph by Magnus Larsson, courtesy of Flickr via Getty Images Cover design by Peter Long Internal design by Midland Typesetters, Australia Typeset in 13/16 pt Bembo by Midland Typesetters, Australia Printed and bound by Grif n Press, South Australia, an accredited ISO AS/NZS 14001:2004 Environmental Management System printer Random House Australia uses papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products and made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The logging and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

CONTENTS

Welcome to Normal Merlo Girls Breaking Up The Heart of Robert the Bruce Range The People I Met Through Smoking Grass Valley The Magnicent Amberson

1 31 49 61 144 163 174 226

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

WELCOME TO NORMAL

THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN a convertible, Martin said as he thumbed the master switch and sent all the electric windows down. It really should. And the cold air came in like blades and I lost most of the feeling in my face in the rst few minutes as the wind that began, I was sure, on some unseen snowcapped western mountain sliced its way through the car and had me thinking of the early days of open-cockpit ight. We passed a sign that said, You are now leaving Decatur, IL, Soybean Capital of the World. It had been two days since either of us had mentioned the convertible that the clerk at the rental desk at the airport had failed to deliver. I had thought it was just a matter of picking up a car but when the keys to a sedan were handed to him, Martin slid them back across the counter, spread the booking conrmation sheet out and asked if the word convertible wasnt completely clear. 1

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

He wasnt a demonstrative kind of ghter, but he had plenty of ways of letting you know you were in a ght, if he wanted to use them. But there was no convertible, the clerk told him, because not a lot of folks drove into OHare in rented convertibles in the fall. He could see that it meant a lot though, so he would give us the highest-grade car he had for the price of the cheapest, and waive the mileage loading. It was the best he could do. And we drove in the rain through the suburbs of Chicago and across the plain to Decatur, stopping only at Paxton for bad coffee at a roadside diner. America, I thought. This is America. Coffee poured from a glass pot into large mugs, the smell of frying, of bacon, of maple syrup. Those green banknotes from the movies. There we were in the movies, in the middle of every diner scene ever shot. Here it was, in October 1990, almost exactly the America of my imagination. Except this was just people ducking in out of the rain, buying gas and a meal, coming and going without much narrative on show. I wanted to talk about movies, and just being there. Martin stared out the window, off somewhere in a thought that wouldnt be shared. The way the light came in, I could see a thumb print on the right lens of his glasses. He held his coffee mug in both hands and drank from it automatically. There were brochures on a rack behind him, promoting Shields Automart and Foxys Prom and Tux. A notice for a September PTA meeting was taped to the wall. I wanted to talk about all of that. The rain was down to a drizzle when we left the diner and drove on to Decatur and the sprawling Caterpillar 2

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

complex that took up a sizeable piece of it. We had a decision to make about new mining trucks and loaders. Komatsu had pitched their latest models in our company boardroom, but Martin had said yes to the invitation to visit the Caterpillar factory and see their new range in action, or something close to it. After a day and a half there, we left Decatur with the windows down and Martin searching through local radio stations until he settled on one playing the Eagles. I told him Id been looking at Caterpillars hauling costs per ton overnight and he said, Im sure youve got good notes. Why dont we take a look at it some time when youve got your notes in front of you? Have you seen theyre harvesting around here? They cant have got that rain we drove through two days ago. He turned up the Eagles, and when his hand moved back to the steering wheel it started tapping along. Corn takes days to dry out after rain. Enough to harvest it anyway. I wonder what the legal position is now with drinking while youre actually driving in Illinois? I could do with a beer. A while later, he said, Youll like Don. Dons a good guy. Don was his buddy from the MBA program at Illinois State University. Martin kept his MBA certicate on the wall of his Brisbane ofce, the way a lawyer or doctor might. It hung next to his UQ engineering degree, and a photo of Martin shaking the hand of Red Adair, the famous oil well reghter who had advertised Rolex and been played by John Wayne in a movie. Don was now back teaching at ISU, at the College of Business, and we were booked in to spend the nal night of this short trip at his house in the town of Normal, near the campus. 3

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

I had the hauling cost gures in my head, and didnt need notes, but the Eagles segued into the Doobie Brothers and Martins left elbow was leaning out the open window and his hand was ghting the blustering icy wind to tap some kind of rhythm on the roof. I wanted a blanket, or a doona. We had run out of real conversation on the plane, and had since then relied on large pieces of mining equipment and random occurrences by the roadside to have reason to speak. After our diner break on the drive to Decatur, almost twenty minutes had passed without a word spoken when Martin pointed out the window to the scrappy crop we were passing and said, Corn. And I was so stuck in saying nothing that I said, Oh, right, and left it at that. Two days later, on the way out of town, he was something resembling chatty corn, beer and Illinois law in the one loosely connected thought and I didnt know what to do with that. Particularly when the crop beside the road looked very different. On either side of the highway, combine harvesters in red or muted green hoovered their way through rows of low bushes that, to me, looked close enough to dead. I supposed it must be soy. There was miles of it. I had seen Martin in action but didnt know him well. He was too far up the ladder and had never seemed friendly. He had a thin moustache and a glare that made its point well enough, and he habitually began meetings by saying, Im not into talkfests. As we passed a sign that said Hendrix and another that pointed out the Crestwicke Country Club over to our right, he said, You really dont need to keep that 4

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

map on your lap. This is practically home turf. But Id already decided my hands werent leaving my pockets while the windows were down. * * * WEST POPLAR STREET, like the others around it, was lined with deciduous trees that were bare for the winter or close to it. Fall had come and fallen just before we arrived and the last leaves hanging on looked rusty and ready to go. The roofs had a steep pitch to them, built for snow. I had had the house from all the movies in mind the Ferris Bueller house, two-storey, white, green shutters and maybe a portico but the place that seemed to be Don and Jennifers was a single storey in height and a muted pale blue in colour. Without saying anything, Martin reached over and took the itinerary from the map book in my lap, where it had been marking an earlier part of central Illinois. He checked the address against the number on the mailbox, which was the same colour as the house but listing fteen degrees to one side, like a drunk version of it. This is it, he said, in a non-committal kind of way. We took our bags from the boot and, as we approached the door, raised voices could be heard from somewhere towards the back of the house. Martin coughed loudly, and they went quiet. As he reached for the brass door knocker, the front door opened and a man in his forties with thinning black hair said, Marty, as if he was announcing an Oscar for an old friend, perhaps Scorsese. He had a black 5

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

jumper on, with a buckled white shirt collar showing at the neckline. He opened his arms wide as if he might hug Martin, and Martin rocked back on his heels slightly, as though a blast of air had rushed through the central hallway of the house and struck him. Don, its good to see you, he said. He kept his bags in his hands and Don let his empty hug hang there for a while before his arms fell back to his sides. Marty Frost, Don said. Party Marty. Hes back. His lips were purple in the cold and he was breathing steam, but grinning like a kid in a queue to see Santa. And this is Craig, Martin said, tilting his head my way. I was slightly behind him and to his left. Craig, hi, Don said, stepping forward and reaching out his hand. Don Nordenstrom. Welcome to Normal. He said it as if Normal was just any other name on the map. Welcome to Paxton, welcome to Peoria. The weirdness of welcoming someone to normal had long ago rubbed away. He led us inside, down a hall lined with black-andwhite winter photos of trees and elds and into a lounge room where a woman was crouching at the replace, attempting to light a re. She stood up when she saw us, and took a step towards us. Hi, Im Jennifer, she said. She was as tall as Don, but mostly through better posture. She was thirty-something and her blonde hair was gathered back into a ponytail. Let me guess, she said. Marty. And Craig. She pointed to each of us in turn, and pronounced my name more like Creg. She gave Don a look, as though he owed it to her to say something specic. 6

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Let me take those bags, he said to Martin. Jennifer kept up the look for another second or two, but he was dodging it. Or maybe just set them down here for now and Ill get us a couple of Buds. Creg, a Bud for you? Beer, Martin said to me. Budweiser. You should try it. The Caterpillar people had taken us to restaurants and ordered wine without me even seeing the wine list. I had learned from them that entre meant main in America and that tipping was complicated, but they had taught me nothing about beer. Bud. I should have known it from TV. Don stepped into the hall, but couldnt have taken more than two paces before he backtracked and his head reappeared in the doorway. Sorry, honey. He was looking at Jennifer. Im assuming youre not having one? Thats right, she said. Thank you. He left again and the three of us stood there. The re had taken hold, but the chill hadnt yet gone from the room. The Caterpillar people had bought us Napa Valley reds. I had wine bottles taking up two shelves of a bookcase at home. I had just started buying by the dozen. I was about to mention a Robert Mondavi reserve cabernet when Jennifer said, So, how was Decatur? It was, um Martin said, still looking towards the empty doorway. It was good. I could hear the fridge door shutting in the kitchen. It was very worthwhile. I dont know how much you know about mining equipment 7

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Not a lot. She smiled. Its one of those things I usually prefer to leave to experts. Like ying, or soufs. Thats why Craigs here, Martin said and it was too good a chance to miss, so I added, In case Marty feels like a souf. She laughed. Martin didnt. I could tell I was risking us having a talk some time about how I wouldnt be calling him that. Party Marty, whose natural face was the scowl and whose preferred response was the monosyllable. Not, in my experience, on my side of the Pacic, a joker. Don came back in cradling three Buds and a bowl of peanuts. Take a seat. Take a seat, he said, setting the nuts down on a coffee table and handing out the beers. Jennifer moved to pick up the newspapers and the fat hardback novel that were on the sofa. Don raised his beer in a toast and said, So, Marty, running the show now. Digging up large pieces of Australia and selling them to Japan. An ISU success story. He tapped his can against Martins and some beer zzed out and around the top. He leaned forward and sucked it up. Well, running one bit of the show, Martin said. Not the whole show. But its quite a big bit. Cant complain. Were just renting here, you know, Don said, taking an unnecessary look around the room. This is temporary. I bet youve got yourself a great place at home. I dont know what the houses are like in Brisbane. I cant remember if you told me before. I wanted to say that we mainly lived in trees, or pods, or ectoplasm, but I didnt. 8

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Theres a Queenslander style of house, Martin said. Timber, up on wooden stumps, with verandahs. A lot of newer houses are brick though. Stumps, Don said, working with him. Is that like stilts, but fatter? Or shorter? Don, did you want to ? It was Jennifer, her arms full of papers. We still hadnt sat down. That thing? What Oh, yeah. Marty, could I He was indicating that Martin should follow him out the room. As they left he put his hand on Martins shoulder and I heard him say, We have a bit of a situation. Why am I holding these? Jennifer said, looking at the papers. Come and sit down. I sat and took a mouthful of my beer, and was surprised by how bad it was. Thin and watery and just bad. I hoped all American beers werent like it. Jennifer picked up some nuts, but didnt eat them. I could hear Don explaining something in the hall, but not the words. Heres the situation, she said. Im sure it wont bother you. Don got it in his head that it was just Marty coming. I told him it was both of you, and youre of course just as welcome as he is, as far as Im concerned. But you were only mentioned in one fax from Marty, and that one seems to have gone somewhere. Don talked to a few people and got two front row seats to the basketball at Redbird Arena tonight. College basketball. Pre-season. ISU versus someone else. A big nostalgia trip for the two old frat boys. It wouldnt kill me, I said quietly, to spend an evening away from Marty. She smiled, and nodded. I thought as much. She turned to face the open door and called out, We do not 9

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

have a situation. Repeat, not a situation. She looked back at me and lowered her voice. I dont know how much frat-boy reminiscing youll be able to stand, but I cant say my tolerance of it is high. Don came back in saying, Im so sorry, Creg, now that the moment had safely passed and the situation lay defused. I dont know what happened. Jennifer just looked at him. Youll be okay just Martin said to me. He had given no thought to what Id be doing with my evening. I let his ellipsis trail out for a few extra dots and just nodded. Go, you Redbirds, Don said, with a lopsided smile, as if his face was rehearsing being drunk. He toasted again, but solo this time, just toasting the air and the enticing thought of Redbirds. Hey, Martin said. Hey. He set his beer on the carpet and unzipped one of his bags. He rummaged around and pulled out a faded and stained red sweatshirt. He stood up and stretched it out across his chest. On the front it had a decal cracked like crazy paving of an angry-looking bird with red plumage. Man, Don said, awestruck. Man, thats fully authentic. Martin looked proud of himself, and yet still braced in case there was a surprise hug going. I can smell the beer in it from, like, twenty years ago. Don was treating the sweatshirt as if Martin had reached into his bag and pulled out the Ark of the Covenant. I think it still ts, Martin said. 10

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Well, sure. Youve looked after yourself, Marty. He turned to look at Jennifer and me. Sorry, you guys. Big moment. Creg, I dont know what you know, but this man turned Bloomington-Normal into a party town back in the day. Most of the MBA guys dont get too involved hell, now most of them hardly even visit but Marty got into tutoring a frat house, and one thing led to another. And another, if you get what I mean. This man wrote John Belushis crib notes for Animal House. They laughed a dirty laugh together, and for a second I thought they were about to start chanting keg or toga. Jennifer watched them with her arms folded. Creg, she said. Why dont you have some nuts. They take away the Bud taste, just a little. * * * WE FINISHED OUR BEERS and the light dropped out of the afternoon outside. Don changed into his own Redbirds sweatshirt a much newer model and made Jennifer take photos of him with Martin, both wearing the shirts and toasting their reunion with their empty Bud cans. We should take you for a tour, he said to me, pointing at me with his Bud can. Every word was in capitals. WE SHOULD TAKE YOU FOR A TOUR. Jennifer will take you for a tour when she takes us to the game. You can do a city lights tour, cant you, honey? Before Jennifer could summon an appropriately downbeat response, Martin said, Hey, remember that car you used to have? The fty-nine Cadillac convertible? 11

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Whats with the used to? Don boomed and reached his arms wide in another victimless hug. Were taking the Caddie, honey. Were taking the Caddie. He hurried us through the house and out to the garage, talking quickly about their other car and how it wasnt good for much, not really. Well, okay for everyday and for shopping and easier on the gas, but He ung the garage door open, and there stood a newish navy-coloured car that looked practical and generic and, next to it, a huge, nned convertible, as red as a re engine. He touched it, stroked it, raced off in an instant into some piece of reminiscence. Martin was laughing and had his hand on the bonnet. He threw in a footnote or two to the story, which they were really only telling to each other. We put the wrong batteries in Don today, Jennifer said, just to me and in a very droll kind of voice. Most people I see this excited are ve years old and about to pee themselves. Be ready for his face to take on a kind of horried look, and for him to make a run for it inside. Were going top down, Don announced to all of us. Top down. And Jennifer, the weary voice of reason, said, Its way too cold for that, honey. Unseasonably cold. We used to do it in snow. Martyll back me up here. In snow. She looked from one of them to the other, then seemed to realise she was going around with her arms folded most of the time, and changed posture. Okay, but Creg is from, like, the tropics, so hell need some wardrobe assistance. 12

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

* * * I ENDED UP wearing three layers of my own clothes, a borrowed coat and one of those hats with the ear muff aps that in movies are always worn by the idiot or the goof ball. Youll need a scarf too, Jennifer said, winding a redand-white one around my neck. Go, you Redbirds. Spread the Red. All of that. She stepped back to take a look at me. So local now, people are going to ask you for directions. She and I sat in the back on the way to the game, which she started referring to as Don and Martys date. Don worked hard to solicit favourable comments about the car from Martin, and got them, and soon they were both referring to the Cadillac as if it were female and a ne racehorse they had raised together from a foal. The icy air slashed across us and it took me two minutes to learn to love my goof ball hat and scarf and wonder where my unprotected mid-face had gone. Martin beat his gloved hands together and gave them a hard rub. Im back, he said. Now I know Im back. Ive got a Bud in me and my ngers are going numb in the gloves. It was our rst night with a clear sky and any tiny vestige of warmth had rushed away. I thought Martins accent might be starting to change. He was saying Bud just like Don now. Redbird Arena was a new building on a major intersection, and we pulled up across the road from it. Some 13

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

of the people standing at the lights looked the size and shape of snowmen in all their layers of clothes, but others had got it wrong and dressed for a different, less Arctic night. Ill be back here at ten, Jennifer said, pointing to her watch. She had infantilised them both long ago. Ten. Check, Don said, giving her two thumbs up. Now, I need to get this man a hot dog, and several cleansing beers. He and Martin high-ved, after which Martin put his hand in his pocket and Don went Woo. Jennifer moved into the drivers seat and watched them go, saying nothing. I took the front passenger seat, sitting on the warmth left by Martin before it all went. Like the back, the front seats were plushly upholstered in red and white and studded with red buttons. Between us was a padded armrest the size of a small table. Jennifer turned the key, and the big rowdy engine kicked into life again. It was his grandfathers, she said. And somehow, in his youth, he managed not to destroy it. He got it xed up recently. At vast and undisclosed expense. When I met him it still had its original paint job and I think there were nights when he slept in it. He was the brilliant young doctoral student then you know the type, brilliant but penniless. I was always destined to fall for one of those. You let me know the second you want the top up. She put it in gear, and the car chugged away from the curb and, when the trafc allowed it, into a lazy left turn. So, Normal, Illinois. Her tone was underwhelmed. The city lights tour. What can I tell you? Home of the worlds tallest student accommodation, McLean Stevenson from MASH and the steak burger. 14

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

How is anywhere the home of the steak burger? She laughed at the challenge. Everything started somewhere. ISU on both sides of the street, by the way. In the dark I couldnt see much detail, just buildings of varying heights with occasional lights still on. The home of the steak burger is on this very street. Once upon a time, in 1934, Gus and Edith Belt added a dining room to their Shell gas station on South Main Street, Normal, Illinois. Unremarkable, you may say, but then, after a false start with chicken everyone was doing chicken Gus had his epiphany. There was a great distrust of ground beef at the time this being the Depression and all so Gus came up with the game-changer. He took good steak and ground it into burger mince in plain sight, and the steak burger was born. As was Steak n Shake, she said, leaning on the n for effect. There are now hundreds of them, all over the Midwest. I dont know if theyve got quite as far as Australia yet. Not yet. McDonalds has. And Pizza Hut. And Burger King, but we call Burger King Hungry Jacks. Hungry Jacks? Who is Jack? And what happened to the king? I remembered a Robin Williams sketch in which he was a drunk at Burger King. His boozy paranoia had given him some axe to grind, and he was demanding to see the king. I dont know, I told her. Somehow we got Jack instead. But we didnt get the liver and gizzard dinner that you have at Kentucky Fried Chicken. We dont eat those bits of the bird. I had seen it in a small town wed driven through, promoted on a big sign as a special offer. I had lost the name of the town already. 15

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

You understand this would not be on Dons tour? she said. The Steak n Shake? Don has two tours the visiting-professor tour that goes direct to the quad and works out from there and the frat-boy tour, which is all about where he vomited, or wore a toga or danced naked in a fountain. I only became fully aware of that hidden history of Normal when I took the tour in an impromptu kind of way after wed arrived. There were buildings ashing by in the night, low-rise and hardy and without pasts worth recounting. So, its called Normal because assuming you dont know I didnt know. Its called Normal because its biggest feature in its early days was its teachers college now ISU which, apparently after the French tradition, was called a normal school. Abraham Lincoln signed the funding deed, back when he was a lawyer. It was another Lincoln town. Even in just two days, I was getting used to that. There had been Lincoln signage as we skirted Champaign-Urbana, and he had lived in Decatur for a short time, so they had ve statues of him. He had split rails in Decatur, and rst read the Illinois Statutes there while recovering from frostbite suffered as a consequence of falling through ice on the frozen Sangamon River. Eight years later, he was back there practising law. This I had heard from Janie, one of our hosts at Caterpillar. We have a Frank Lloyd Wright house too, she had said. If only you were here a little longer. I had wondered the whole time if Brisbane could make civic pride out of such stories, or if it did already and they were too regular for me to notice. I mentioned Champaign-Urbanas Lincoln claims to Janie and she 16

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

told us they were nowhere near as strong as Decaturs. Not that its a competition, she said. We can all share Lincoln. And REO Speedwagon is all Champaigns. Theres no taking that away from them. And that would be the Steak n Shake, Jennifer said as we drove slowly by a chain restaurant that looked just like any other. Dont tell me youre not amazed. She took a left turn, into a street where the singlestorey business buildings hardware stores, the bright lights of car dealerships gave way to houses set back from the street but now unprotected by their bare trees. The original deeds, or some other document from back then back at the founding of the school or the town prohibited the sale of intoxicating drinks in Normal until about 1970, she said. Presumably the students found ways of getting by. Marty probably arrived just as they were partying to celebrate the lifting of the ban. Party Marty. Only on the other side of the Pacic did the idea seem preposterous. Here it was town history, almost ofcial. Further along here is the Camelback Bridge. Built 1870. If you seemed more like an engineer, I could get you the details. Which Id be happy to do, but you dont seem as much like an engineer as Id expected. Im hoping thats a good thing. Its not a bad thing. Why are you an engineer? How does that happen? She sounded as if she was genuinely interested. Well, at school I was good at math, which I realise is singular here its plural with us. How exotic, she said. You must have larger brains. How many maths do you have? 17

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

At school I had just two or three, but I also had a programmable calculator, which seemed to seal the deal. It seemed to scream engineering to the careers advisor, for some reason. I cant say I really knew what engineering was when I started. I thought Id build bridges. I thought Id be outside more. And now you buy trucks. Now I buy trucks. Big yellow trucks. Thats my job. Four years as an undergraduate, a few more of hard-hat time out in the bush, and thats where Id found myself. What do you like? she said, again seriously. What do you really like? I dont know, I told her. I havent thought of a job in those terms. There was a pause. I thought I should say more, or something better. Well, its got iron columns, the bridge, she said, exing her ngers and taking a new grip on the wheel. The Camelback Bridge. Here it comes. The road lifted us up above the houses, and it felt wrong to do that in such at country, as if we might come down in Oz. Theyre original, the columns. Made by a company called Phoenix, and apparently thats rare. Its called camelback because it was built that way to allow steam locomotives to travel underneath. They dont do that now though. Its now the Constitution Trail. A walking trail. I walk it a bit. It was a relief listening to her voice and to be away from Martin. More of a relief than I had expected. I was used to the numbness in my face now, and how clear 18

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

and sharp the air felt to breathe, and how icy-bright the stars looked. I didnt want us to hurry this drive. She asked about Caterpillar again and said, Don knows some folks there. Komatsus been taking a lot of business from them. There wasnt much I could say to that. Yeah, well, theyre both good companies. They both make good big yellow trucks. I wanted to ask her what she really liked, or wanted, but I didnt. We turned left again and she said, Thats the Watterson Towers, as if wed talked about them already. She was pointing to the twin stacks of lights a few streets away. The worlds tallest hall of residence. Nothing higher between Chicago and St Louis. I dont know how that gets to be a statistic, but in this town it does. Hey, do you like movies? Does anyone say no to that? I love movies. Ive been living one the past two days. Or at least on the set of one. A road movie with Martin was no kind of movie. Diners and corn elds and barns. And now Im driving round in a red Cadillac convertible. This is totally a movie for me. I only know math is singular because of movies. And TV. Okay, she said. Okay. Id never have thought of it that way. But Im too used to living on your movie set, I guess. If its here, Smalltown USA. She made another turn, into a narrower street. Mediumtown, on a good day. Ive got something to show you. Something you might like to see. I dont know. She parked in front of an abandoned building that stood out from all the others in the street. It had a high front that, way up in the dark, appeared as if it 19

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

was painted to look something like the keyboard of a piano. At street level, it had six glass doors, three either side of a structure like a sentry box, and there were empty sign boxes on the wall. Above the doors, an awning jutted out almost to the street line. Its front and sides were as tall as me, and they met at curved art-deco corners. I could make out three lines on them where letters would go, movie names. I imagined the classics that had played there, going back to the early days of the talkies. Jennifer reached into the back of the car and lifted her bag over. This is my project, she said. Well, not mine, but a project Im part of. The Normal Theater. Or what was the Normal Theater. There should be a ashlight in the glove box. I took it out, since that seemed to be what she intended, and I fumbled with the switch through the gloves. It came on and sent a stark white beam of light up into the sky. She went through her bag for keys, and pulled out one that was on a ring by itself. This isnt much, she said, as she led the way to the building. A work in progress. Not even progress yet. But were hoping. She moved the key around in the lock until it clunked open, and she pulled at the door handle, expecting it to need more force than it did. I shone the torch inside and saw a lobby that looked cramped, with a low ceiling that had rows of uoro lights and a carpet that had seen too many feet, two much expired gum. Thats what it looked like once, Jennifer said, leading me across the foyer to a picture on the far wall. We 20

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

want to get it back to something like that. It used to be one big picture theatre. A few years ago, they divided it into two and apparently it went downhill from there. The photo had been taken from across the road, on the night of the premiere screening of Bing Crosbys Double or Nothing, a movie I hadnt heard of. I think it can have a life, you know, this place, just by being what it is. A genuine 1937 picture theatre. The premiere had been on another cold night. The men were clustered around the entrance in hats and long coats, waiting. A dark van was parked outside. It had wide running boards, and the letters WJBC on its side. I told her it looked like a still from a gangster movie, and she said, People have claimed that Al Capone used to eat at the Steak n Shake, since he didnt have to leave his vehicle. Which is a great story, except Al Capone was already in Alcatraz when the Belts opened the dining room. We were standing close to the picture, both of us looking over every detail of the van, as though Elliott Ness and his men might burst out of it if we stared hard enough. The torchlight hit the pale wall and ared back into our faces and across the empty room. Outside, a car drove past. I could barely hear it through the closed doors. Its a shame thats not here any more, I said, pointing to the vertical sign that, in the photo, stretched up from the awning and then curved over at the top and stopped on the roof. On its side it spelled out Normal in bright capitals against a dark background. Oh, the marquee, she said. Come this way. 21

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

It took only a few steps for her to get to the door of cinema one, and she pulled it open and signalled for me to go in. The seats had gone, and the marquee sign was lying on the oor. Its the shape of a candy cane, she said. Thats deliberate. The sign was red and needed repainting, and it lay there like a fallen giant from a story. It had large simple white letters and two rows of lights arching up and over from the N. Well x it up. Thats the plan. I could see what she wanted to do, and see the point of the new heyday that she wanted to give this place. The cinema had been lost, but not irretrievably. The spirit of it was all still there. The torchlight found all the aws in the red paint and glowed from the white letters and back onto Jennifers face, where it caught her looking around the room, imagining. She saw me looking at her, and laughed at herself. How about that? she said. You come here to buy big yellow trucks, and some woman takes you off in the night to an abandoned movie theatre. I still had the goof ball hat on. I could feel sweat starting to break out on my scalp, now that we were out of the wind and the worst of the cold. We should eat, she said. * * * SHE DROVE US TO Sprague Super Service on East Pine Street. I seem to be giving you a tour of Normal in the 1930s, she said. 22

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The building had two storeys, with the ground oor looking strictly business while the upper level was half-timbered, with decoratively patterned stucco. It looked as if it had been designed by two different people. This was the largest gas station on Route 66, she said as she got out of the car. She stood looking up at the building, as if examining it properly for the rst time. And one of a minority built to cater for the Tudors. Well, Route 66 was Henry the Eighths favourite way to the West, I said, wanting to play the game. Im sure Ive seen a plaque to that effect. I understand he ate here, feasting on a quail in a duck in a goose or one of those complicated banquets he seemed to favour. And four hundred years later, Al Capone stopped by for a sandwich and kept the motor running. She led us inside and ordered pizza and a carafe of the house red, and I tried not to watch her or to be caught watching her. I tried to be less struck by her. A mile away, maybe two, her husband Don and my boss Party Marty were chowing down on hotdogs, throwing back beers and singing old college songs with all the passion two dull men could manage. There would be hugs, surely, for any successful three-point shot from the Redbirds. Manly hugs. The safe, sure embraces of ardent sports lovers everywhere. I asked Jennifer if she had an attachment to old movies, if thats where her connection with the theatre had come from, and she said, Not really. I mean, I love some old movies, but its not just that. I guess I have an attachment to everything not becoming faceless, and 23

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

forgetting itself. We had the pizza in front of us by then, and she stopped to separate a piece from the rest, trailing hot mozzarella all the way to her plate. And Ive got time. Ive just submitted my doctoral thesis on the poet William Stafford. I wanted to know William Stafford. I wanted to be able to quote him, then and there. I wanted to have something of his to offer that would be brilliant for the moment, whatever the moment was. Some people say hes like a Western or Pacic Robert Frost, she said, taking her rst bite of the pizza, which was hot. She fanned air at her mouth. Ive heard of Frost, I told her, and she said, Yep, as though it was a disappointment. Everyone had heard of Frost and nowhere near as many had heard of Stafford. That was her world, and I had slid back to the pack. Or perhaps she was just dealing with the hot pizza. His surfaces are so ordinary, so normal, she said between bites. Staffords, I mean. And sos his language, but he makes something very clever out of it. She stopped, and looked at me as if she needed to work something out. Ill give you a copy of Smokes Way. I dont know why, but I seem to have two. I cant imagine Don brought one to the relationship. She smiled when she said it, but she still said it. No one had ever said they would give me poetry before. Don didnt get Stafford. I knew that. I was sure I would, even though I wasnt much for poetry. Big yellow trucks. I had come here for big yellow trucks. Not for this night. I have woven a parachute out of everything broken. Thats what Stafford said, she told me. Its not a poem, 24

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

but it could be. Its a comment he made once. It was the right comment, a perfect comment for her to quote, but she could do no wrong by then. Ordinary language, that was all, made clever and beguiling. He wrote a poem called Smoke. He covered a lot of elemental things. You will stop me the second this gets boring? I dont want to be that crazy poetry-obssessed abandoned-building woman She ate more pizza, losing a piece of pepperoni as she bit into it. Its not boring. It wont get boring. I just had two days of big yellow trucks. And two days of Martin, who kept inside his head unless he needed me to do something, or had a point to make about the issue in front of his nose. She looked me over to see that I meant it, and then she said, Wherever you are, theres another door. Thats what he said in Smoke. Theres a way. Smoke will nd a way. Actually, it wont nd it. Its more passive than that. A door appears. More passive even. Its just there. Wherever you are, theres another door. It felt like a very serious observation, this one line taken from a body of work of who-knew-what size. I didnt know if she was going to leave it as a line about smoke, or if smoke was there to make a point that she would do more with. She drank some wine and after a while said, Don, it turns out, has put a down payment on a lot at a new subdivision on the edge of town. Prairie Links. Just by the tenth green. So, it seems like were staying here. He doesnt even have tenure yet, but hes working every room he walks into. He even gets points for my 25

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

community involvement. She ate another mouthful of pizza before saying, Maybe Ill like golf. It turned out she was from San Francisco. We compared starts in life, and the things wed hoped for back then and the paths wed taken. I realised I didnt normally revisit those things much, not in the way Jennifer seemed to. It felt like a very American conversation. But that idea was from movies too. She told me she was used to somewhere with a coastline and a city, the life of a city, and that San Francisco took Illinois enormous, indeed nation-building, soybean crop for granted. With the possible exceptions of edamame and soy milk, but San Franciscans didnt think to link those with Illinois. Don was from a small town in Minnesota, and had won scholarships that took him through college and grad school. He could pick up a guitar and play James Taylors Fire and Rain without even thinking about it. Thats what shed noticed rst. Their record collections had said they were perfectly matched. At nine forty-ve she looked at her watch, just as I was thinking she might forget to, and she said, Already that time. Lets go pick up the wreckage. She asked for the bill, or in fact the check. I told her it should all be on Party Marty, who would sign off on anything I expensed, but she said, What kind of a host would that make me? and insisted on paying, taking the bill from its small plastic tray the moment it arrived, and not even letting me look at it. I think it would be wrong to actually wrestle you in here for it, I told her and she said, You wouldnt stand a chance. 26

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

I put on my coat and my goof ball hat and, when we stepped into the carpark, the outside air seemed even colder than before, like air that had been emptied of everything. Our mouths gushed steam and I imagined it pouring out from under the hat. There was no one else around. Thank you, I said, as Jennifer started the car and reversed out of the parking spot. No, thank you, she said, as if she meant it. I had TV ahead of me, with those two at the game. TV and some leftover mac and cheese. I cant even read Stafford at the moment. Ive PhDd him to death. I need to take a break before I can fall back in love with him. It had the emptiness of the night air, the way she said it, the air of this cold January night lost in October, lost in this town, where sadness had the chance to stand out like bare trees if it chose to. But I couldnt guess at any of her life beyond this single day, not really. I wanted to keep driving laps, go somewhere, say something great and perfect. Instead we turned onto North Fell and then West Mulberry and, at exactly ten pm, cruised up to the designated parking spot where Don and Martin were swaying, high-ving each other with big red foam hands and singing fragments of a drinking song brutally and tunelessly, in two-part non-harmony. Don attempted a stylish door-jumping manoeuvre, but caught both his feet and then his massive foam hand, and fell head rst behind my seat. Martin drove the index nger of his foam hand between Dons buttocks and shouted, Go, you Redbirds, in a manly voice, while Don giggled like a girl and kicked his feet in the 27

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

air. The legs of his trousers slid most of the way to his knees, exposing his white socks. It looked like wed just kidnapped Tintin. Martin stepped into the road without a thought that there might be trafc, and then tried what seemed to be the same move as Don, but in slow motion, pulling it off with something surprisingly like grace, sliding rather than jumping into the seat behind Jennifer and lifting his feet with care so as not to kick her in the head. Meanwhile Don was squirming around behind me, like two ferrets having a ght in a pair of pants. Oh God, honey, he moaned. Where is the oxygen here? Where is the light? Where is up? Try another way, Jennifer said slowly and clearly, like a therapist who had given her life to clients of very limited abilities. He sounds quite existential with a lot of beer in him, doesnt he? she added, only for me. But hes just stuck. Martin started poking down behind my seat with the foam hand, making Don squeal. Argh, lint, he moaned. Im breathing lint. Then his head appeared at the back of the armrest, sweaty and hatless, and he said, Im back. Go you Redbirds. He dragged himself into a sitting position, and then demanded laps. Jennifer seemed to know what he meant and said, Okay, but watch those hands. Youll never get tenure if those hands go bad tonight. He gave her a Hitler salute with his foam hand, and stuck his left index nger stify under his nose to remove any ambiguity, of which there already wasnt much. Martin laughed and they made a clumsy go of another high-ve. 28

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

And we drove laps, around and around the circuit Jennifer had taken me on earlier, with Don and Martin treating the Camelback Bridge like a three-second rollercoaster ride and calling out joyous drunken non sequiturs to the rare pedestrians lucky enough to be out in the cold and to come into range. The moment Jennifer said that the time had come to head for home, Martin took his foam hand off, stuck it under the seat, and got himself into a crouching position. Yes, Don said, yes, with such exuberance that, had he been on his feet, he would denitely have been dancing. Martin undid his pants and slid them down, and his boxers too, and hung his bare arse out to the fearsome breeze. We used to call this mooning, he said, squeezing his eyes tight, as if it were only possible for him to go there in his forties if he didnt witness it. And maybe we still do, Jennifer said, in a quieter version of her therapist voice, looking straight ahead. * * * WE WENT HOME and Don found more beer, and Martin drank and shouted and laughed until the beer came out his nose, frothing in his weedy moustache and making him gag and splutter in a way that Don called epic. So this was Party Marty, and the legend was written anew. The next morning at breakfast he looked pale almost to the point of transparency. He ate cereal as cautiously 29

Copyright Nick Earls 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

as possible, as though one wrong move might make it blow up in his face. He never mentioned the night before. Not then, not ever. He handed me the keys for the drive that would take us back to Chicago, and the plane home. He sat staring grimly ahead as the cornelds swept by us, breaking the silence only once to say, You know were going with Komatsu, right? His eyes never left the road. Id been good at maths at school. Id been the one with the programmable calculator. I knew we were going with Komatsu. I had found myself in a job about numbers, and thats what the numbers had said all along.

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