33 Snowfish (13 page)

When Seldom was finished he put the Bible back in his pocket and rubbed his shins and we just sat there and stared at the sky for a while. Seldom kept shaking his head all long and slow.

He went, “You was friends?”

I nodded.

Then he patted some of the dirt and went, “How old was she?”

“Fourteen, I think. Maybe fifteen.”

“Shucks.”

I just sat there for a minute. That purple light was covering the sky like a big greasy blanket.

Seldom went, “That’s too durn young,” and wiped some sweat off his head with a rag and went, “Shuckaloo shucks,” whatever that means.

For some reason I was like, “She wasn’t shit but a two-dollar hooker.”

“She was?”

“She’d do any man with a pair of shoes.”

“That’s shameful.”

I was like, “Chump change or food stamps, it didn’t matter.”

Seldom wiped his face again and went, “She prolly didn’t know no better.”

And I was like, “She didn’t know shit.”

Then we was quiet again and Seldom looked off like some old scratchy song was playing in his head.

Then he went, “Lost my wife thirty years ago this past May.”

I didn’t know what to say when he said that shit, so I just stayed quiet.

Seldom poked in the dirt again and went, “Lost her giving birth to our baby. Died right when that little thing started coming out. Baby died, too. Little girl. The ’bilical string was wrapped around her neck. Came out blue. Eyes didn’t even have no color in them. Poor thing never had a chance.”

Then Seldom drawed something in the dirt with his finger and pointed over at this small, wack shed that looked like something a dog might live in. When I looked in the dirt to check out what he drawed there wasn’t nothing to see.

Then he went, “Buried both of them right over there.”

I looked to where he was pointing. There were two small crosses that looked more like something you hang socks on than something you’d see in a bone yard.

Seldom’s eyes turned kinda cloudy for a second. Even under all that purple sky you could see how they went cloudy. He rubbed his shins and kind of rocked back and forth like that memory he had was too strong for his old creaky body.

In the distance you could hear a train whistle. It sounded like it was a million miles away.

Seldom went, “What was your friend’s name?”

I almost didn’t tell him cuz of that shit Bob Motley says about niggers stealing names. But for some reason I did anyways. I got a picture of her in my head and went, “Curl.”

“Was she Little Jimster’s mama?”

“She just took care of him. Fed him and changed his diapers and shit.”

“Well, she did okay.”

“She didn’t even like him.”

Then Seldom shook his head some more and said, “God’s gravy, God’s gravy,” or maybe he said, “God’s gray, God’s gray,” I couldn’t tell for sure. Sometimes his words come out like he’s got a bunch of gum in his mouth. I think it’s cuz of them fake lower teeth he wears.

Then Seldom went, “You love the mess outta that boy, don’t you?”

I was like, “He’s all right.”

“Little Jimster with them cornflower eyes. . . . You love him and you loved her, too.”

I just nodded and tried to go, “She was like my sister,” but it didn’t really come out cuz it was all stuck in my throat like a hunk of meat.

Then I started crying like a little bitch. I don’t know why. I wasn’t feeling nothing the whole time we was digging that hole and walking through the snow — nothing but cold and numb and tired. But all of the sudden, sitting on that dirt with Seldom and holding that shovel, that hot, thick feeling was flying up my throat and the next thing I knew my face was all wet.

I was like, “Goddamn hooker. Goddamn bazooka-fiending hooker.”

Then Seldom put his big old hand right on my head and I didn’t even care. Sometimes Sister Blister would do that shit, too. It was the only thing that that wack spelling nun did to me that I liked halfway.

After a minute Seldom went, “You believe in God, Jimster?”

I was like, “God ain’t shit.”

“Watch yourself, now.”

“He don’t care.”

“He do, though. He just don’t show it sometimes.”

“He ain’t shown me nothin’.”

“He will. He will. You just gotta have faith.”

Then for some reason I was like, “He’s prolly just some old creaky garbage man who smells like gasoline.”

Seldom started laughing that old scratchy laugh, and went, “Good Godfrey, Jimster. Good Godfrey.” Then he took his hand off my head and started rubbing his shins and went, “The things you say . . .”

I just sat there all quiet and wiped my face. Seldom put his hand back on my head for a minute and even patted it a few times. He patted my head like I was a dog, and that shit felt pretty good.

Then he went, “Well, I best go get that tree.”

I was like, “What tree?”

He went, “That tree over yonder,” and waved his hand at this big pointy tree leaning against the other side of the shed. There was all these old shingles curling off the shed and it made the tree look kind of wack and skanky.

I went, “You gonna burn it?”

He was like, “Burn it!? I’m gonna drag that old lady in the house and throw popcorn at her!”

“How come?”

“Don’t you know what day it is, Jimster?”

I was like, “No.” And I didn’t know, either. I didn’t know shit.

“It’s Christmas Eve!”

Then Seldom starting laughing again and you could see his teeth shining. Even though the sky was way darker than purple now, you could see them.

That’s when I got up and went in the house to check on the baby.

When I reached the door I looked back where we buried Curl. Seldom just stayed right there. He had that Bible out again and he was using his finger to read one of them other prayers. His face looked real old and sad. Even though he was still smiling with them shiny teeth, it looked like that.

The way his head was bowed looked kinda nice.

So that night Seldom stood the tree up in the living room and popped popcorn and we did what he called a “Christmas throw.”

He threw all wack and left-handed like the bone in his arm was weak. He kept calling the tree the “old lady,” and he was dancing all over the room and pumping his fist and cheering me on and shit.

I hit the tree like skeighty-eight times, from every part of the living room; from behind his couch; from both sides of the fireplace; even from the doorway to the bathroom.

In the window you could see the snow falling again, but it wasn’t going sideways no more. It was just falling regular.

Seldom kept clapping his hands, going, “Throw that popcorn, Jimster! Hit that old lady. Throw it like you know it!” And I
did
know it, too. I threw that shit the way me and Boobie used to throw rocks at the buses in Rockdale.

Seldom almost fell down a few times cuz he was dancing so much. Once he sat right in the fireplace and almost burnt his old bow-legged ass. He had to rest after that cuz he said his
sticks
was hurting, but he kept clapping his hands and cheering me on from his rocking chair.

After we finished the Christmas throw, Seldom let Deuce come inside to eat the popcorns that didn’t stick to the tree. I swear, that little wack chicken was walking around just like a person, and it stared at me the whole time with that freaky doll’s eye.

There ain’t no TV or no radio or no PlayStation II on the Itty Bitty Farm. It was just the fire and the Christmas tree and whatever light you could see coming through the window. I brought the baby’s TV in so the baby could have Christmas, too. All three of us just sat there in front of the fire kinda quiet and still. It took Seldom a while to catch his breath. You could hear his lung bubbles fighting for that Itty Bitty Farm air.

I ain’t never sat in front of no Christmas fire before, so it was pretty crisp. In the window you could see the snow falling and the reflection of the Christmas tree and how all the popcorn stuck. And you could see the flames from the fireplace sawing up and making shit kinda glow. In that reflection sometimes you couldn’t tell what was the snow and what was popcorn, and that was pretty crisp, too.

The reflection in the window made it feel like there was
two
Christmas trees and shit.

Seldom creaked back and forth in his rocking chair with his long bony shins looking all dry and brown like some old rope, and I dropped my frostbite hand in the TV and let the baby chew on it.

Seldom went, “This ain’t so bad, is it, Jimster?”

I was like, “It’s okay.”

“Just okay?”

“It ain’t like no Halloween parade.”

Then he went, “Boy . . .”

And I was like, “Boy what?”

He went, “You sure are tough to please,” and creaked this big long rock in the rocking chair. “Still got that hard shoulder.”

I was like, “No I don’t,” and just stared at that reflection of the Christmas tree in the window. We didn’t say nothing for like five minutes. All you could hear was that rocking chair creaking all ancient and wack like it was a car breaking down or some shit.

Then Seldom looked at me and went, “Look at you.”

I was like, “What?”

“Ornery like you old.”

“I ain’t ornery.”

“You don’t like nothin’.”

“Yes I do.”

“Why you so hateful? You don’t even like the tree.”

I went, “I like it.”

“What do you like about it?”

I went, “. . . Like
like
like?”

“No like like
hate
. Whatchu think?”

Then we didn’t say nothing again for a minute and I didn’t know it but I was eating some popcorn right off the floor, and it was that skanky shit that Deuce wouldn’t even touch. It didn’t taste wack or nothing, though.

Seldom went, “Well?”

I was like, “Well what?”

“What do you like? About the tree?”

I went, “
Seriously?
”

Then Seldom made this face like he was mad. He wouldn’t even look at me. I tried spying on him through the reflection in the window, but I could only see one of his big long legs.

I went, “I like it.”

“
Shoo
.”

I was like, “I do.”

“You can’t even say one thing about it. Nary a thing.”

Then I felt like I had a fist all clenched up in my stomach. I couldn’t say nothing for like two whole minutes, but I took a deep breath and went, “I like the way the popcorn’s all like . . . spread out and shit.”

Seldom went, “Spread out how?”

“How it looks . . .”

“How it looks what?”

“Like how it looks kinda like stars, okay? Damn.”

We was quiet for a minute. Then he went, “
Shoo,
” again. I think that’s like Seldom’s favorite shit to say. You could say, “Hey, Seldom, there’s some gum on your toe!” and he’d just go,
“Shoo.
” Or you could be like, “Hey, Seldom, the sky is falling!” or “Hey, Seldom, there’s a hooker on a pogo stick and she’s flashing her pussy!” and he would just look at you with them big white eyes and go,
“Shoo
.”

You could hear the fire hissing and Seldom creaking in the rocking chair.

Then he shook his head and went, “One is a lonely number, Jimster,” but I didn’t know what that shit meant so I didn’t say nothing back. I just ate some more popcorn and what I didn’t eat I threw into the fireplace and listened to those flames make it pop.

He went, “You know what I like about it?”

I went, “No.”

Then he started talking real fast, like someone flipped a switch on his back or some shit.

He said, “I like
everything
about it. I like the way it smells and I like how tall it is and I like how some of the needles already gone and fell to the floor and I like how she kind of leans to the left a little like she’s thinkin’ about something and I like how you was throwing the popcorn. . . .” Then he said that first part again. He went, “I like
everything
about it, Jimster, okay?” and looked away.

For some reason I told him to stop being a little bitch. I was like, “Stop being a little bitch, Seldom.”

Seldom looked at me like he was a little kid, I swear, with his eyes all big and wide and white and his mouth kinda open like when some gum falls out and you don’t got none left. He looked at me like that and went, “I ain’t being no little bitch.”

I went, “Little Christmas bitch,” and he kept hanging his mouth open and tried to swallow something but there wasn’t nothing in there to swallow. I just stared into the fire.

After a minute Seldom went, “You hurt my feelings, Jimster. You must like hurting my feelings. It’s like you don’t appreciate nothin’.”

I was like, “I ’preciate stuff.”

“You can’t even think of one more nice thing to say about the tree.”

“Yes I can.”

“Bet you can’t.”

“How much?”

“I’ll bet you a nickel.”

“I don’t got no nickel.”

“I’ll spot you.”

“Cool.”

I couldn’t think of nothing right away like that, but that nickel was on the line.

Seldom went, “So go on then. Say it. One more thing.”

I was like, “I will, okay?”

Then Seldom got that look on his face again and went, “And somethin’ nice, durn it!”

Part of me didn’t want to say
shit
after all that bitching he was doing. But I thought hard for a minute and then I was like, “Okay.”

“Okay what.”

“I got something for your old creaky ass.”

“This old creaky ass’ll still smack the tailbone right out your backside, you don’t watch it.”

“You gonna owe me a nickel.”

“Shoo.”

“I can already feel it in my pocket.”

“Well, go on then!”

So I did. I went, “I like the way it smells.”

Seldom went, “I already said that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. I said I likeded how it smelled and I said how I likeded how tall it is and I said how I likeded how some of the needles done already gone and fell to the floor and I said how I likeded how she kind of leans to the left a little like she’s thinkin’ about something and I said how I likeded how you was throwing the popcorn. You owe me a nickel.
Shoo
.”