Far in the Great North Woods there’s a deep black lake; one of tens of thousands in that lonely region. This one’s a man-made lake in a perfect diamond shape. It freezes so thick in the winter you can drive a one-ton truck right out into the middle of it and ice fish for pike and giant muskie. In the summer it’s alive with beaver, blue heron, green frogs, wood duck, and a pair of red-eyed loons that warble in that eerie tone reminiscent of the timber wolf. Deer and bearded moose sometimes emerge like magic from the dark woods and water out of the south bank, then slip back into the thick tamarack and pines. On the opposite shore a little portable aluminum dock on rubber wheels juts out into the iron-stained water. It has two orange lawn chairs chained to the end of it so they don’t blow away in the late afternoon thunderstorms that sweep in off the southern plains regular as clockwork. Every morning at the height of the summer season, a married couple meet on this dock with their white cups of coffee; cups that say “Betty’s Pies” in blue with a little steaming pie etched right below the logo. They unchain the lawn chairs and adjust them, facing due west with the rising sun just over their left shoulders. They sit within arm’s reach of each other so their fingers can brush and make little twitching signs of recognition and affection. They’ve been coming up here for eighteen years; sitting on this very same dock in these very same chairs. Sometimes they just stare at the glistening flat surface of the water and the slow-motion clouds, pink-edged from the sun like cotton candy. Other times they talk:

What exactly is this thing you have about the French?

What thing?

This derision all the time; this attitude. Now the kids have picked it up.

They have?

Yes, they have. I don’t want them growing up with an attitude like that. I want them to travel; go places; be open-minded.

To France? You want them to travel to France?

Yes. Of course. I’d really like them to see France. Why not?

Well, they can see France if they want to. I don’t care if they see France.

They’re not going to want to see France if they already have this thing about it.

What thing?

They make fun of the accent. They think everything French is pretentious and stupid.

Well, they’re right about that.

It’s not funny, Henry. You might think it’s funny but they don’t understand that kind of sarcasm. They’re too young. They think it’s serious.

It is serious.

I can’t talk to you.