Tenth of December (16 page)

Ha ha, he says.

Smiles, wipes mouth.

Jerry a talker. Before he became cop, was teacher. Is so glad to not be teaching anymore. His students brats. Brattier every year. For last few years, was just biding his time, waiting to be knifed or shot by some brat. Things got worse as kids got darker. If I know what he means. Has nothing against dark people but does have something against dark people who refuse to work and learn language and insist on pulling mean pranks on teachers. When he was kid, would never have dreamed of putting small baby frog in Diet Coke of one of most dedicated teachers on staff. Was almost certainly dark kid who did it, since nearly all his kids dark kids. Was never personally knifed, but is sure he would have been, eventually, by some dark kid or other. For any kid nervy enough to put frog in teacher’s drink, sky is limit, i.e., stabbing = next logical step.

Kids just kids, I say.

Yes and no, Jerry says. Kids = future adults. What is good for goose is good for gander. Once saw film re. baby lion allowed to run rampant: lion grew up, ate own owner. Therefore, firm hand tantamount w/ kids.

Jerry lonely lately, he says. His wife recently died. Did not plan on her dying first. She was always healthy one. Now he is little bit lost. Wife was just wisp of thing even at best.
Toward end, she was almost not there. Is never in big rush to get home. Home so quiet since wife gone. Has no grandkids, as never had kids, as wife had questionable eggs.

Hence will have plenty of time to dedicate to our case.

Something fishy here, Jerry says. Does not look like typical activist job. Activists will normally leave calling card: Semplica Rots in Hell leaves single red flag. Women4Women leaves manifesto + tape recording of SGs listing things family did to offend/annoy SGs during time in yard. Activists will often have doctor as part of team, to remove microline before SGs get in van. Yet cops found microline drag marks near our gate, indicating SGs escaped on foot, microline still in?

Does not add up.

Jerry smells rat.

But not to worry, Jerry says: he is “here for duration.”

For now, will sit in yard awhile. This how he sometimes proceeds: will get “right into head of perp.”

Jerry hacks, hobbles away into yard.

Go inside. Tell Pam all.

Pam and I stand at window watching Jerry.

Thomas: Who is that?

Me: Just a guy.

Pam: Don’t go out there. Don’t talk to him or anything like that.

Lilly: He’s in our yard but we’re not allowed to talk to him?

Me: Yes. Correct.

Is nearly midnight as I write. Jerry still in yard (!). Jerry
smoking, Jerry humming same annoying four-note phrase over and over. Can hear him from spare room + smell his smoke. Would like to go down, order Jerry from yard. Say: Jerry, this = our yard. Our kids sleeping, they have school tomorrow, if you wake them with your humming, they will have rough/sleepy day at school. Also, Jerry, we do not allow smoking in or near house.

Yet cannot do.

Must not alienate Jerry in slightest way.

God.

Household in freefall, future reader. Everything chaotic. Kids, feeling tension, fighting all day. After dinner, Pam caught kids watching “I, Gropius,” (forbidden) = show where guy decides which girl to date based on feeling girls’ breasts through screen with two holes. (Do not actually show breasts. Just guy’s expressions as he feels them and girl’s expression as he feels them and girl’s expression as guy announces his rating. Still: bad show.) Pam blew up at kids: We are in most difficult period ever for family, this how they behave?

When kids born, Pam and I dropped everything (youthful dreams of travel, adventure, etc., etc.) to be good parents. Has not been exciting life. Has been much drudgery. Many nights, tasks undone, have stayed up late, exhausted, doing tasks. On many occasions, disheveled + tired, baby-poop and/or -vomit on our shirt or blouse, one of us has stood smiling wearily/angrily at camera being held by other, hair shaggy because haircuts expensive, unfashionable glasses
slipping down noses because never had time to get glasses tightened.

And after all that, look where we are.

Is unfortunate.

Just now went down hall to check on kids. Thomas sleeping w/Ferber. This not allowed. Eva in bed w/Lilly. This not allowed. Eva, source of all mayhem, sleeping like baby.

Felt like waking Eva, telling Eva all will be well, she has good heart, is just young + confused.

Did not do.

Eva needs rest.

On Lilly’s desk: poster Lilly was working on for “Favorite Things Day” at school. Poster = photo of each SG, plus map of home country, plus stories Lilly apparently got during interview (!) with each: Gwen (Moldova) = very tough, due to Moldovian youth: used bloody sheets found in trash + duct tape to make soccer ball, then, after much practice with bloody-sheet ball, nearly made Olympic team (!). Betty (Philippines) has daughter who, when swimming, will sometimes hitch ride on shell of sea turtle. Lisa (Somalia) once saw lion on roof of her uncle’s “mini-lorry.” Tami (Laos) had pet water buffalo, water buffalo stepped on her foot, now Tami must wear special shoe. “Fun Fact”: their names (Betty, Tami, et al.) not their real names. These = SG names, given by Greenway at time of arrival. “Tami” = Januka = “happy ray of sun.” “Betty” = Nenita = “blessed-beloved.” “Gwen” = Evgenia. (Does not know what her name means.) “Lisa” = Ayan = “happy traveler.”

SGs very much on my mind tonight, future reader.

Where are they now? Why did they go?

Just do not get.

Letter comes, family celebrates, girl sheds tears, stoically packs bag, thinks: must go, am family’s only hope. Puts on brave face, promises she will return as soon as contract complete. Her mother feels, father feels: we cannot let her go. But they do. They must.

Whole town walks girl to train station/bus station/ferry stop? Group rides in brightly colored van to tiny regional airport? More tears, more vows. As train/ferry/plane pulls away, she takes last fond look at surrounding hills/river/quarry/shacks, whatever, i.e., all she has ever known of world, saying to self: be not afraid, you will return, & return in victory, w/big bag of gifts, etc, etc.

And now?

No money, no papers. Who will remove microline? Who will give her job? When going for job, must fix hair so as to hide scars at Insertion Points. When will she ever see home + family again? Why would she do? Why would she ruin it all, leave our yard? Could have had nice long run w/us. What in the world was she seeking? What could she want so much, that would make her pull such desperate stunt?

Jerry just now left for night.

Empty rack out in yard, looking strange in moonlight.

Note to self: call Greenway, have them take ugly thing away.

HOME

1.

Like in the old days, I came out of the dry creek behind the house and did my little tap on the kitchen window.

“Get in here, you,” Ma said.

Inside were piles of newspaper on the stove and piles of magazines on the stairs and a big wad of hangers sticking out of the broken oven. All of that was as usual. New was: a water stain the shape of a cat head above the fridge and the old orange rug rolled up halfway.

“Still ain’t no beeping cleaning lady,” Ma said.

I looked at her funny.

“ ‘Beeping?’ ” I said.

“Beep you,” she said. “They been on my case at work.”

It was true Ma had a pretty good potty mouth. And was working at a church now, so.

We stood there looking at each other.

Then some guy came tromping down the stairs: older than Ma even, in just boxers and hiking boots and a winter cap, long ponytail hanging out the back.

“Who’s this?” he said.

“My son,” Ma said shyly. “Mikey, this is Harris.”

“What’s your worst thing you ever did over there?” Harris said.

“What happened to Alberto?” I said.

“Alberto flew the coop,” Ma said.

“Alberto showed his ass,” Harris said.

“I hold nothing against that beeper,” Ma said.

“I hold a lot against that fucker,” Harris said. “Including he owes me ten bucks.”

“Harris ain’t dealing with his potty mouth,” Ma said.

“She’s only doing it because of work,” Harris explained.

“Harris don’t work,” Ma said.

“Well, if I did work, it wouldn’t be at a place that tells me how I can talk,” Harris said. “It would be at a place that lets me talk how I like. A place that accepts me for who I am. That’s the kind of place I’d be willing to work.”

“There ain’t many of that kind of place,” Ma said.

“Places that let me talk how I want?” Harris said. “Or places that accept me for who I am?”

“Places you’d be willing to work,” Ma said.

“How long’s he staying?” Harris said.

“Long as he wants,” Ma said.

“My house is your house,” Harris said to me.

“It ain’t your house,” Ma said.

“Give the kid some food at least,” Harris said.

“I will but it ain’t your idea,” Ma said, and shooed us out of the kitchen.

“Great lady,” Harris said. “Had my eyes on her for years. Then Alberto split. That I don’t get. You got a great lady in your life, the lady gets sick, you split?”

“Ma’s sick?” I said.

“She didn’t tell you?” he said.

He grimaced, made his hand into a fist, put it upside his head.

“Lump,” he said. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Ma was singing now in the kitchen.

“I hope you’re at least making bacon,” Harris called out. “A kid comes home deserves some frigging bacon.”

“Why not stay out of it?” Ma called back. “You just met him.”

“I love him like my own son,” Harris said.

“What a ridiculous statement,” Ma said. “You hate your son.”

“I hate both my sons,” Harris said.

“And you’d hate your daughter if you ever meet her,” Ma said.

Harris beamed, as if touched that Ma knew him well enough to know he would inevitably hate any child he fathered.

Ma came in with some bacon and eggs on a saucer.

“Might be a hair in it,” she said. “Lately it’s like I’m beeping shedding.”

“You are certainly welcome,” Harris said.

“You didn’t beeping do nothing!” Ma said. “Don’t take credit. Go in there and do the dishes. That would help.”

“I can’t do dishes and you know that,” Harris said. “On account of my rash.”

“He gets a rash from water,” Ma said. “Ask him why he can’t dry.”

“On account of my back,” Harris said.

“He’s the King of If,” Ma said. “What he ain’t is King of Actually Do.”

“Soon as he leaves I’ll show you what I’m king of,” Harris said.

“Oh, Harris, that is too much, that is truly disgusting,” Ma said.

Harris raised both hands over his head like: Winner and still champ.

“We’ll put you in your old room,” Ma said.

2.

On my bed was a hunting bow and a purple Halloween cape with built-in ghost face.

“That’s Harris’s beep,” Ma said.

“Ma,” I said. “Harris told me.”

I made my hand into a fist, put it upside my head.

She gave me a blank look.

“Or maybe I didn’t understand him right,” I said. “Lump? He said you’ve got a—”

“Or maybe he’s a big beeping liar,” she said. “He makes up crazy beep about me all the time. It’s like his hobby. He told the mailman I had a fake leg. He told Eileen at the deli one of my eyes was glass. He told the guy at the hardware I get fainting dealies and froth at the mouth whenever I get mad. Now that guy’s always rushing me outta there.”

To show how fine she was, Ma did a jumping jack.

Harris was clomping upstairs.

“I won’t tell you told about the lump,” Ma said. “You don’t tell I told about him being a liar.”

Now this was starting to seem like the old days.

“Ma,” I said, “where are Renee and Ryan living?”

“Uh,” Ma said.

“They got a sweet place over there,” Harris said. “Rolling in the dough.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Ma said.

“Your ma thinks Ryan’s a hitter,” Harris said.

“Ryan is a hitter,” Ma said. “I can always tell a hitter.”

“He hits?” I said. “He hits Renee?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Ma said.

“He better not start hitting that baby,” Harris said. “Sweet little Martney. Kid’s super-cute.”

“Although what the beep kinda name is that?” Ma said. “I told Renee that. I said that.”

“Is that a boy or a girl name?” Harris said.

“What the beep you talking about?” Ma said. “You seen it. You held it.”

“Looks like a elf,” Harris said.

“But girl or boy elf?” Ma said. “Watch. He really don’t know.”

“Well, it was wearing green,” Harris said. “So that don’t help me.”

“Think,” Ma said. “What did we buy it?”

“You’d think I’d know boy or girl,” Harris said. “It being my freaking grandkid.”

“It ain’t your grandkid,” Ma said. “We bought it a boat.”

“A boat could be for boys or girls,” Harris said. “Don’t be prejudice. A girl can love a boat. Just like a boy can love a doll. Or a bra.”

“Well, we didn’t buy it a doll or a bra,” Ma said. “We bought it a boat.”

I went downstairs, got the phone book. Renee and Ryan lived over on Lincoln. 27 Lincoln.

3.

27 Lincoln was in the good part of downtown.

I couldn’t believe the house. Couldn’t believe the turrets. The back gate was redwood and opened so smooth, like the hinge was hydraulic.

Couldn’t believe the yard.

I squatted in some bushes by the screened-in porch. Inside, some people were talking: Renee, Ryan, Ryan’s parents, sounded like. Ryan’s parents had sonorous/confident voices that seemed to have been fabricated out of previous, less sonorous/confident voices by means of sudden money.

“Say what you will about Lon Brewster,” Ryan’s dad said. “But Lon came out and retrieved me from Feldspar that time I had a flat.”

“In that ridiculous broiling heat,” said Ryan’s mom.

“And not a word of complaint,” said Ryan’s dad. “A completely charming person.”

“Almost as charming—or so you told me—as the Flemings,” she said.

“And the Flemings are awfully charming,” he said.