Rick didn’t respond. Then Josie went on:
‘I think it is some kind of jealousy, Ricky. But you know what? I don’t mind. Shows you’ve got the right attitude. You’re being protective. Shows you’re thinking about our plan. So don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried. This is such a ridiculous accusation.’
‘It’s not an accusation. I’m not saying it’s like sexual or anything. What I’m saying is that this portrait, it’s just part of the big world out there, and you’re worried it could get in our way. When I say you might be jealous, I’m just meaning in that sense.’
‘Fair enough.’
Their ‘plan’, though frequently mentioned, was rarely discussed in detail. Nevertheless, it was during this – still gentle – phase of the visits that I began to gather together their various remarks about it into a coherent observation. I came to understand that the plan wasn’t anything they’d built carefully, but more a vague wish connected to their future. I realized too the significance of this plan for my own aims; that as the future unfolded, even if the Mother, Melania Housekeeper and I could remain near her at all times, without the plan, Josie might still not keep away loneliness.
* * *
—
There then came a point when the bubble game stopped bringing laughter and brought instead fear and uncertainty. In my mind today, this marks the third and last phase of those visits Rick made at that time.
It’s hard now to establish which of them first altered the mood. In the earlier phases, Josie’s sketches were often created purposefully to bring back amusing or happy incidents they’d shared in the past. This was one reason Rick was able to fill the bubbles quickly and with little hesitation. But there now came a change in Rick’s reactions when the sheets floated down to him. Increasingly he would stare at them for long moments, sigh or frown. Then when he wrote his words, he’d do so slowly and with more concentration, often not replying to anything Josie said until he’d finished. And Josie’s responses, once Rick had passed the sheets back up to her, became hard to predict. She might study a sheet with blank eyes, before placing it amidst her bedclothes without comment. Or sometimes she’d flick a completed sheet back onto the floor, this time to a spot beyond Rick’s reach.
Every now and then, the mood might return to the way it was before, and they’d laugh or argue in a friendly way. But increasingly, either Josie’s picture or Rick’s words would cause an unkind exchange. Even so, a comfortable atmosphere would usually have returned by the time Melania Housekeeper called up the end of the thirty minutes.
* * *
—
Once, Rick reached forward and picked up a sheet, regarded it carefully, then put down his sharp pencil. He went on looking at the picture for some time, till Josie, noticing from the bed, stopped her sketching.
‘Something up, Ricky?’
‘Hmm. I was just wondering what these were supposed to be.’
‘What do they look like?’
‘These folks surrounding her. Am I to assume they’re aliens? It almost looks like instead of a head, they have, well, a giant eyeball. I’m sorry if I have this all wrong.’
‘You haven’t got it all wrong.’ There was a coldness in her voice, and also a small fear. ‘Well, at least not really. They’re not aliens. They’re just…what they are.’
‘All right. They’re an eyeball tribe. But what’s rather troubling is the way they’re all staring at her.’
‘What’s troubling about it?’
The silence continued behind me and, in the window reflections, I saw Rick continuing to stare at the sheet.
‘So what’s troubling about it?’ Josie asked again.
‘I’m not sure. This is an extra large bubble you’ve made for her too. I’m not sure what I should write.’
‘Write whatever you think she’s thinking. No different from the others.’
There was another silence. The Sun on the glass made it hard to see the reflections, and I was tempted to turn around, even though this might reduce privacy. But before I could, Rick said:
‘Their eyes are really quite creepy. And what’s even creepier. It looks like she wants them to keep staring at her.’
‘That’s sicko, Rick. Why would she want something like that?’
‘I don’t know. You tell me.’
‘How can I tell you?’ Josie’s voice was now annoyed. ‘Whose job is it to do the bubbles?’
‘She’s half smiling. Like she’s pleased on the inside.’
‘No, Ricky, that’s wrong. That’s just sick.’
‘I’m sorry. I must be misinterpreting.’
‘Misinterpreting’s right. So hurry up and do her bubble. The next one’s here, nearly finished. Rick? You there?’
‘Perhaps I might pass on this one.’
‘Oh come on!’
The Sun had retreated now, and I could see Rick, in the glass, tossing the sheet gently onto the floor to join the untidy pile accumulating closer to Josie’s bed.
‘I’m disappointed, Rick.’
‘Then don’t draw pictures like that one.’
There was another silence. I could see Josie on the bed, pretending to be absorbed in her next sketch. I could no longer see Rick very well in the reflection, but I knew he’d remained quite still against the modern wardrobe, and was staring past me out of the rear window.
* * *
—
After Rick’s visits finished, Josie would usually be tired, and toss her sharp pencils, sketchpad and loose pages onto the floor, turn onto her front and rest. At these moments, I’d come off the Button Couch to pick up the many items by now scattered over the floor, and I’d then have the chance to see what they’d been discussing during the visit.
Josie, even with her cheek pressed into the pillow, wouldn’t actually be asleep, and often she’d continue to make remarks with her eyes closed. So she was fully aware I was observing the pictures as I gathered them, and clearly didn’t mind. In fact, it’s likely it was her wish that I look at each and every one of them.
Once, while performing this tidying, I happened to pick up a sheet, and though I glanced at it only fleetingly, established straight away that the two main faces in the picture were supposed to represent Missy and the long-armed girl from the interaction meeting. There were, of course, various inaccuracies, but Josie’s intention was obvious. The sisters were at the front of the picture, with unkind expressions, while other less finished faces crowded around them. And although there were no furniture details I knew the setting was the Open Plan. Had it not been for a large bubble above it, it would have been easy not to notice the small, featureless creature squeezed into the gap between the sisters. In contrast to the Picture Missy and the Picture Long-Armed Girl, this creature lacked the usual human features, such as face, shoulders, arms, and resembled more one of the water blobs that formed on the surface of the Island near the sink. In fact, if not for the bubble above it, a passer-by might not even have guessed this shape was intended to represent a person at all. The sisters were ignoring the Water Blob Person completely, despite the person’s closeness. Inside the bubble, Rick had written:
‘The smart kids think I have no shape. But I do. I’m just keeping it hidden. Because who wants them to see?’
Although I only glimpsed this picture for a second, Josie knew I’d taken it in, and she said from the bed in a sleepy voice:
‘Don’t you think that’s a weird thing for him to write?’
When I gave a small laugh and carried on tidying, she went on:
‘Do you suppose he thinks I meant that to be him? The little guy between the two nasties? Do you suppose that’s why he filled the bubble that way?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘But you don’t think so. Do you, Klara?’ Then she said: ‘Klara, you listening? Come on. Can w
e have a comment here?’
‘It’s perhaps more likely he assumed the small person was Josie.’
She said nothing else while I ordered the various sheets into piles and placed them with the previous ones in a space beneath the dressing table. I thought she’d fallen asleep, when she said suddenly:
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It’s only an estimate. I think that Rick thought the small person was Josie. And I believe Rick was trying to be kind.’
‘Kind? Why is that being kind?’
‘I believe Rick worries about Josie. How she sometimes appears to change in different situations. But in this picture, Rick is being kind. Because he’s suggesting Josie is being clever to protect herself and isn’t really changing.’
‘So what if I sometimes want to act different? Who wants to be the same all the time? The trouble with Rick is he always gets accusing when I’m any way he doesn’t like. It’s because he wants me to stay the way I was when we were small kids.’
‘I don’t really think that’s what Rick wishes.’
‘Then what’s all this? All this no shape, hiding stuff? I don’t see what’s kind about it. That’s Rick’s problem. He doesn’t want to grow up. At least, his mother doesn’t want him to and he goes along with it. The idea is he lives with his mom for ever and ever. How’s that going to help our plan? Any time I show any sign of trying to grow up, he gets sulky.’
I said nothing to this, and Josie continued to lie there with her eyes closed. She did fall asleep then, but just before she did, she said quietly:
‘Maybe. Maybe he did mean it to be kind.’
I wondered if Josie would bring up this particular picture – and the words inside the bubble – during Rick’s next visit. But she didn’t, and I realized there was a kind of rule between them not to talk directly about any of the pictures or bubble words once they’d been completed. Perhaps such an understanding was necessary in allowing them to draw and write freely. Even so, as I have said, I considered from the start that their bubble game was filled with danger, and it was what brought about the sudden end to Rick’s thirty-minute visits.
* * *
—
It was a rainy afternoon, but the Sun’s patterns still came faintly into the bedroom. There’d been around then a run of fairly relaxed visits, and the mood that day had also been quite comfortable. Then twelve minutes into the visit – they were again playing the bubble game – Josie said from the bed:
‘What’s going on down there? Haven’t you finished yet?’
‘I’m still thinking.’
‘Ricky, the idea’s you don’t think. You write down the first thing that comes to you.’
‘Fair enough. But this one requires more thought.’
‘Why? What’s different about it? Hurry it up. I’ve nearly finished this next one.’
In the window reflections, I could see Rick at his usual place on the floor, knees drawn up so that he could rest the picture on them, both hands down at his sides. He was staring at the picture before him with a puzzled expression. After a while, without pausing from her drawing, Josie said:
‘You know, I always meant to ask. Why is it your mom won’t drive any more? You still have that car, right?’
‘No one’s started it up in years. But yeah, it’s still in the garage. Maybe once I get my license, I’ll get it checked over.’
‘Is it like she’s afraid of accidents?’
‘Josie, we’ve talked about this already.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t remember. Is it because she got too scared?’
‘Something like that.’
‘My mom, she’s the reverse. Drives way too fast.’ When Rick didn’t respond, she asked: ‘Ricky, you still haven’t filled that in?’
‘I’ll get there. Just give me a moment.’
‘Not driving’s one thing. But doesn’t your mom mind not having friends?’
‘She has friends. That Mrs Rivers comes all the time. And she’s friends with your mum, isn’t she?’
‘That’s not really what I mean. Anyone can have one or two individual friends. But your mom, she doesn’t have society. My mom doesn’t have so many friends either. But she does have society.’
‘Society? That sounds rather quaint. What’s it mean?’
‘It means you walk into a store or get into a taxi and people take you seriously. Treat you well. Having society. Important, right?’
‘Look, Josie, you know my mother’s not always so well. It’s not as if she made a decision about it.’
‘But she does make decisions, right? One thing, she made a decision about you. Back whenever.’
‘I don’t know why we’re talking about this.’
‘You know what I think, Ricky? Stop me if this is unfair. I think your mom never went ahead with you because she wanted to keep you for herself. And now it’s too late.’
‘I don’t see why we’re talking about this. And what does it matter? Who wants this society anyway? None of it needs to get in the way of anything.’
‘It all gets in the way, Ricky. Gets in the way of our plan for one thing.’
‘Look, I’m doing my best…’
‘But you’re not doing your best, Ricky. You keep talking about our plan, but what really are you doing? Each day goes by we get older, stuff keeps coming up. I’m doing all I can, but not you, Rick.’
‘What am I not doing I should be doing? Going to more of your interaction meetings?’
‘You could at least try more. You could do like we said. Study harder. Try for Atlas Brookings.’
‘What’s the point in talking about Atlas Brookings? I don’t even have an outside chance.’
‘Of course you’ve got a chance, Ricky. You’re smart. Even my mom says you stand a chance.’
‘A theoretical chance. Atlas Brookings may make a big thing of it, but it’s less than two percent. That’s all. Their intake of unlifteds is less than two percent.’
‘But you’re smarter than any of the other unlifteds trying to get in. So why won’t you go for it? I’ll tell you. It’s because your mom wants you to stay with her forever. She doesn’t want you going out there and turning into a real adult. Hey, are you still not finished down there? The next one’s ready.’
Rick was silent, gazing at the picture. Josie, despite her announcement, continued to add to her picture.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘how’s this going to work? Our plan, I mean. How’s it going to work if I’ve got society and you haven’t? My mom drives too fast. But at least she’s got courage. It goes wrong with Sal, but even after that she finds the courage to go ahead with me all over again. That takes courage, right?’
Rick suddenly leaned forward and started to write on the picture. He often used a magazine to press on, but this time I could see the page was directly against his thigh, and starting to crinkle. But he went on writing quickly, then stood up, dropping his sharp pencil to the floor. Rather than hand the picture to Josie, he tossed it towards the bed, making it land on the duvet in front of her. He then stepped back till he was near the door, all the time watching her with large eyes that were both angry and fearful.
Josie turned to him in surprise. Then she put down her own sharp pencil and reached forward for the sheet. For a long moment, she looked at it with blank eyes, while Rick kept watching from the door.
‘I can’t believe you’d write this,’ she said finally. ‘Why would you do this?’
I turned around on the Button Couch, estimating the tension had reached a level that could no longer justify complete privacy. Perhaps Rick had forgotten about my presence, because my turning round appeared to startle him. His gaze came to me for a second, still filled with fear and anger, then he strode out of the room without a word. We listened to his steps going down the stairs.
Once th
e front door noise came, Josie yawned, threw everything off the bed and lay down on her front, as though the visit had ended like any other.
‘He can be so exhausting sometimes,’ she said into her pillow.
I came off the Button Couch and began to tidy the room. Josie’s eyes stayed closed, and she said nothing more, but I could tell she hadn’t fallen asleep. As I went on tidying, I naturally glanced at the sheet that had caused the tension.
As expected, the picture showed versions of Josie and Rick. There were many inaccuracies, but also enough resemblances to leave no doubt about the intended identities. Picture Josie and Picture Rick appeared to be floating in the sky, the trees, roads and houses far below reduced to miniature sizes. Behind them, in one section of sky, were seven birds flying in formation. Picture Josie was holding up with two hands a much larger bird, offering it as a special gift to Picture Rick. Picture Josie had a large smile, and Picture Rick a look of thrilled amazement.
There was no bubble for Picture Rick. The only one was for Picture Josie’s thoughts, and inside it Rick had written:
‘I wish I could go out and walk and run and skateboard and swim in lakes. But I can’t because my mother has Courage. So instead I get to stay in bed and be sick. I’m glad about this. I really am.’
I added this picture to the collection I was gathering in my hands, making sure it wasn’t near the top. Josie remained quiet and still, her eyes closed, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. In the days before Morgan’s Falls I would perhaps have spoken to her at this point, and Josie would have responded with honesty. But the mood between us was different now, and so I decided to say nothing. I went to the dressing table, reached down and placed this latest pile beside the others in the space underneath.
* * *
—
Rick didn’t come back the next day or the day after. But when Melania Housekeeper asked, ‘Where boy go? Get sick?’ Josie just shrugged and said nothing.
Klara and the Sun Page 12
