The White Deer 1

1

     I'm still drunk from last night. I finished my coffee and I'm heading through the kitchen. I said my goodbyes and shook the hands and I am almost there.
     -Hang on, he says, I wanna show you something. 
     I turn around and lean on the cold doorknob--cold 'cause the other half of it is outside where I want to be. He, Cary, is digging in his pocket. His pants are so tight that once his hand is in and down to the faded outline of his iPhone, it's as if he's caught in a Burmese monkey trap.
     -What? I smile while warming the knob.
     The phone pops out and goes right to his face, inches from his face, and he peers at it over his glasses as he swipes at what I reckon are pictures. He stops flicking the screen, looks at his find and grins at me.  
     -Look, he says and points the phone at me. He holds it out in front of me and I let go of my knob.
     If he thinks I can see it, he's sadly mistaken. His arm is meandering slightly and I grab his wrist to stop the sway and look at the little picture, a blurry whitish blob in a sea of green. 
     -What is it?
     -What does it look like?
     I raise my eyebrows and reaching back for my steadying knob I shrug.
     -Hang on, check this out. And he goes back to flicking the screen. -Here, he says finally.
     I just take it out of his hand and hold it and see what he's been trying to show me.
     Centered more or less is an albino deer. Buried in all that summer green is an eight point, albino deer still in velvet. The nubby antlers already showing the promise of greatness.
     -Holy shit. Where'd you see him?
     -Right out back.
     -Here? When?
     -Last summer. Cary's smiling now. He's looking at me over his glasses now.
     -That's a hell of a deer. I start jabbing at the screen myself and it all goes away.
     -Is it? he asks taking the phone from me.
     Now I'm smiling. -Season's over now, man. Should've shown me that three weeks ago. Have you seen him lately?
     -Few days ago. He was out--
     -Did he have his full rack? I asked, holding my hands up, thumbs to my skull, fingers spread in the international sign of antlers -I mean, is he worth poaching? Damn, dude, he's worth trying.
     -You can't shoot him, man.
     -Not legally, naw, not now, but we can--
     -No, you can't shoot him. My kids love him.
     -Are you kidding me?
     -No, they love him. Cary starts stuffing the phone back down into his pocket. It slides in and he does a move, a leg thing, to shake it back down to the outline. -I knew I shouldn't have shown you.
     -yeah, you should've shown me when he was still in season. He's the trophy of a lifetime!
     -But you're not a trophy hunter you said.
     Me and Cary look over to the kitchen table at his girlfriend who's sitting behind her laptop, ignoring the last coveted cup of coffee from the pot. 
     -That's right isn't it? she asks.
     I step away from the door. -Well yeah, but this, I say pointing at Cary's crotch -this is the trophy of a lifetime!
     -Well what about, You can't eat antlers? and, It's disrespectful to the spirit of the deer. DEER. she says throwing finger quotes.
     -That's what hunters say to people who don't hunt! People who drive Volvos and went to Chapel Hill. People who ain't got guns. But that bad boy. again with a crotch wag -he's worth a fortune.
      -But he's practically a pet. Cary's kids love him, and I like to see him when I see him.
      -Yeah. Cary says from the kitchen. -I shouldn't have told you.
      I say to them both, -Sure, I get it. He's your little woodland buddy, your pet. But he's gonna get shot, the temptation's too much. Somebody'll--
      -He can't get shot, we live in the city.
      I open my mouth to say something, but I stop myself. -Well, he's got that going for him don't he? I step over to the table and sit down with Cary's girlfriend. -When's the last time you saw him? This winter?
      -Oh, I don't know when. A few weeks ago. It was one morning on my way to my car. Just before--
      -Was he huge? Was he full on, eight shiny white points of sexy mo-fo?
      -Um, how's that?
      -Was he everything that picture of him from last summer promised he'd be?
      She looks up from the screen at me. -I think he was pretty...
      I'm waiting for her to finish, but she already is.
      I get to my feet, and lean over onto the table. -Well, y'all got a hell of a pet I hafta say.
      Cary steps up behind me and very lightly touches my elbow. -Promise you won't shoot him.
      Laughing I say -I can't, man. The season's over! Besides, you live in the city remember? I stand and look him in the eye. -Anyway, I gotta get. Thanks again. I beeline for the door again, and wrap my hand around the knob. Twisting and yanking as hard as it takes for the vintage door to open, I get the rush of cold, dry air that feels like a hangover cure and a slap all at the same time.
      -Well, thanks for the bed, and the party, I say over my shoulder. -Or the party and the bed. Had a good time!
      Cary holds a hand up and waves. His girlfriend looks up again at me as I back down the stairs shutting the door. She smiles?
      The door gets shut and outside, at last, I crunch through the gravel towards my truck. I'm smiling 'cause I'm still drunk. I'm smiling cause I can feel a plan gurgling around.