The Children and the Wolves

by Adam Rapp

For how long? I asked.

  Just a few days, she answered.

  You comin back? I asked.

  Of course, she said. I’ll be gone a few days tops.

  I noticed that her skin looked clearer too.

  She’d never used a word like voluminous before and for a second I thought the old Dirty Diana got traded in the way you trade in a car.

  She touched my hair and was like, You’ll be okay holding down the fort?

  I nodded. I wanted her to ask me about my tooth but she still hadn’t noticed.

  Here, she said, and handed me forty dollars. Don’t forget to eat.

  I took the money.

  She said, If Charlie Chinco comes by tell him the garbage disposal is making weird noises again.

  She went over and turnt on the garbage disposal. It made a grinding noise. I looked at the refrigerator.

  I could tell that it knew something.

  * * *

  The next day Dirty Diana left with Cortina. He came and picked her up in his purple Hyundai. I had to help her take her suitcase down. Cortina’s windshield’s got a crack in it.

  I imagined them huddling together. The highway wind whistling through the glass.

  Dirty Diana smoking weed and Cortina singing Mexican gangbanger songs and maybe getting a handjob.

  After I said good-bye I came back to the apartment and took this roll of thick black electricity tape and taped the refrigerator shut. It took a while cause I had to go around the whole thing. I used the entire roll. Being that close to the fridge almost made me puke with afraidness.

  Fuck you, I said to the fridge. Fucking weirdo fridge.

  Then I went over to the management office to tell Mr. Song about the garbage disposal.

  His face looked like it got poured out of a cement mixer.

  Bloke again? he cried. I come by tomollow.

  As I was leaving he said, Yul muddle owe two mumfs rent.

  She’ll pay it, I told him.

  He was wearing a sweatshirt with a yellow smiley face on it and cut-off corduroy shorts. His calves are bigger than his thighs and they’re bald and rubberish.

  What happened? he asked.

  What? I said.

  He pointed to my eye. I looked in a mirror on his wall. I had a black eye and I had no idea how I got it. Dirty Diana hadn’t asked me about that either. She touched my hair but wouldn’t go near my eye. I thought maybe I got the black eye from the Future Pill.

  I got in a fight, I told him.

  Wif who?

  This dirty Mexican gangbanger, I lied.

  You ruse bad, no?

  I said, I whipped him good and then I busted the windshield on his cheap-ass Hyundai with a crowbar. His name is Cortina. You should see his face.

  Mr. Song laughed.

  He said, Yul muddle teach you to fight?

  I taught myself, I said.

  Well yul daddy? he asked.

  I don’t know, I said.

  He was like, He reave go bye-bye, no?

  He was in the war, I said.

  Ilaq? he asked.

  I think so, I said. Maybe Afghanisland too.

  He said, Afghanistan.

  He seemed to get a lot of pleasure from correcting me. I never know how to say those fucking countries where the war is.

  About my dad Mr. Song went, He die?

  No, I said. He just never came back. He was a ranger.

  I don’t know why I told Mr. Song about my dad being a ranger. I felt stupid. Like my insides were shrinking. Or like I would open my mouth and a ant would crawl out.

  He said, Maybe he in Ras Begas winning big jackpot.

  I was like, Maybe.

  * * *

  The next day when Mr. Song came over to fix the garbage disposal he brought boiled pork dumplings. While he worked I sat at the kitchen table and ate them out of a Tupperware thing.

  You rike? he asked, poking his head out from under the sink.

  They’re good, I said.

  You eat so fast, he said. Srow down. Enjoy, no?

  I nodded and he went back under the sink.

  He had this little radio with him. It was set on the floor beside his legs. His calves looked like frozen yellow chicken meat you buy at the grocery store. The kind with cellophane over it. The radio was playing classical music.

  I thought about taking the hammer to his knees. It was on the table cause after Dirty Diana left with Cortina I went into her room and made some holes in the wall. Like eight pretty big holes. Then I stuffed her socks and underwears in the holes.

  After I finished the last dumpling I took the hammer and went and stood over him. He didn’t know I was standing there cause he was busy with his monkey wrench.

  He said, You rike this music, no?

  I didn’t answer and he kept working.

  Crassicar music good fol the mind and the spilit, he said.

  When he finally saw me standing there with the hammer he looked pretty freaked.

  He said something in Chinese and then he just stared at me.

  You okay? he asked.

  I just nodded.

  He said, Why you clying?

  I touched my face. It was wet but I don’t remember starting to cry.

  I said, Here, and gave him the hammer.

  I don’t need, he said.

  Just take it, I said.

  He took it and I left.

  Well you going? he asked.

  I went over to Orange’s to check on the Frog. While crossing Piano Road I had to wipe my face like five times.

  I fucking hate having to wipe my face like that. I’d rather lose a finger.

  This lady called the house this morning. She said she was from Children’s Services.

  I was like, What’s Children’s Services?

  She said, An advocacy organization for the protection of children.

  We don’t need protection, I told her.

  She said, Thousands of children are killed and abused every year. Thousands.

  I went, Not me.

  Then she said, Who’s this?

  Tim, I said.

  I figured I should use my real name with a real person.

  She said, Tim Merlo?

  Uh-huh, I answered.

  She went, Tim, is your dad home? My name is Takada Flowers.

  He’s sleeping, I said.

  My dad was in the living room. He’d fallen dead asleep with a KFC bucket in his lap.

  She said, When he wakes up can you ask him to give me a call?

  Why? I said. Does something need to be serviced?

  Just have him call this number, she answered.

  When my dad woke up I told him some lady named Takada Flowers called.

  I didn’t do nothing, he said.

  I was like, I didn’t say you did.

  He said, People always judging you.

  He handed me the empty KFC bucket.

  He said, Recycle that, please.

  I went, Yeah, right, and put it in the sink.

  I think about people recycling stuff and I imagine mountains of rotten diapers. Rotten diapers and Coke bottles with cigarette butts floating in backwash.

  Then I went down to the basement and watched the Frog. Sometimes I can’t tell if she’s sleeping or just breathing and thinking. Her video game was on pause. It was like she was meditating about it or something.

  I felt like I might walk over to her and punch her hard in the face. I even felt my hand start to make a fist and the blood rushing down my arm. It would have made me feel strong but I didn’t do it. Instead I just watched her.

  At one point she turnt to me and said, Can I have a cupcake?

  I just stood there and kept staring at her.

  The Frog said, I’ll let you punish me if you give me a cupcake.

  What kind of cupcake? I asked.

  Chocolate with blue sparkles, please.

  I was like, What about one with nuts?

  * * *

  Later me and Bounce went over to Cedarwood
Heights to collect. We knocked on a door that had this big old yellow Cadillac parked in the driveway. This old man answered. He had huge earlobes and he seemed blind or maybe deaf even though he wasn’t. He wheezed when he breathed.

  You see his car? Bounce whispered as the mummy was letting us in. Vintage Caddy.

  He gave us tomato soup and Ritz crackers.

  So you’re doing God’s work, he said.

  Bounce said, That’s one way to look at it, Mr. Leftwich.

  She never forgets a name once she hears it. She says she learnt that from her parents when they’re dealing with clients on the phone.

  About the soup Mr. Leftwich said, It could use some pepper.

  His salt and pepper shakers were two cows with black and brown spots. I could feel what it was like to steal them before I even touched them. I knew how heavy they would be and everything. I wanted those cows.

  He gave us warm cans of ginger ale.

  Where do you spose this little girl is? he asked, setting the ginger ales down on the table.

  I wish we knew, Bounce told him. I really wish we knew.

  He said, You wonder how a child like that just up and vanishes.

  Bounce said, We live in an ugly world.

  They got a task force looking, I said. German shepherds, too.

  We all have to do our little part, Bounce said. That’s why the donations help so much, Mr. Leftwich. You can be a part of that.

  She’s allergic to nuts, I added. She’ll die if she eats a nut.

  We were tag-teaming the shit out of this old fool.

  When he went to go get more crackers I took the cows. I know Bounce loved it. I could see it in her sexy eyes.

  When the old man came back with the crackers he said, My daughter’ll be back soon. You might get a donation from her too.

  I started thinking about the Glock and I got a boner. I asked the old man if I could use his bathroom and he pointed down the hall.

  After I jerked off I looked in his medicine chest. There was Tylenol for Arthritis and eye drops and hemorrhoids ointment and this stuff called Aricept. I opened the bottle of Aricept. It looked sort of like the Future Pill, so I put the bottle in my pocket with the salt and pepper shaker cows.

  When I came back to the kitchen Mr. Leftwich was putting a twenty-dollar bill in the collection can.

  Another sucker, I thought.

  Bounce thanked him and he shook both our hands. His skin felt like wet Kleenex.

  On the way back to the Lexus, Bounce handed me a knife. It was a Spyderco Delica, just like the one she gave Wiggins before summer vacation, but newer.

  Do his back tires, she said. Do it.

  I knifed the Caddy’s back tires and we got in the Lexus.

  * * *

  When we got to my house, she parked and I showed her the pills.

  Aricept, she said, holding the bottle.

  What are they for? I asked.

  Dementia, she said, handing them back. They’re for Alzheimer’s.

  Then she took my hand and put it down her pants.

  I love you, I told her.

  She said, Just get it over with, Firebox.

  And I did and when she came her body shook so hard I thought she would break the Lexus.

  It was so awesome I will never wash my finger again.

  When I tried to give her the knife back she told me to keep it.

  That one’s yours, she said.

  I was like, A love knife.

  Exactly, she said. Now you and Wiggins both have one.

  Dinner with Kara and Dapper Dan.

  Our dinner table has been dressed in white linens by an Indian woman named Savi. I can’t tell if she’s our new paid slave or just on for the night. In addition to serving us, Savi has also prepared the meal. She has brown lips and her skin is impossibly soft.

  As she sets things down, Kara and Dapper Dan say, Thank you, Savi. Thank you so much. This is wonderful! Thank you!

  And Savi replies says, You’re welcome, and, It is my pleasure. Her voice is like silk pulled across the backs of your legs. Her eyes are silver almonds.

  We eat spicy lamb stew with rice and soft flat garlic bread. There is also chicken madras.

  From our Bose Wireless Wave System, authentic classical Indian music drones like a sick animal. There is a flute and a violin riding over the drone. A single drum beats haphazardly. This music could really work on you if you played it loud with the lights off. There is a spell in it. A room that it will lead you to where people go mad and tear each others’ arms off.

  Kara and Dapper Dan drink imported red wine from Bangalore.

  There is not much wine in India, Savi explains. But this is one of the finest selections.

  I drink Cherry Coke with Reese’s Pieces floating in it.

  Savi silently moves between the kitchen and the dining room, bringing in little silver tins, taking things away. She wears a thin peach dress that flows about her arms. She is barefoot and her perfect toes look like they would taste like salty caramel.

  We found her online, Dapper Dan whispers to me sneakily.

  I say, Is she like moving in?

  It’s a one-night-only thing, Kara murmurs through her perfectly Revloned lips.

  I think she’s had injections since the last time I saw her.

  Mom, I say, your lips look awesome.

  She says, Thanks, Carla! With all the flying, I worry about the haggard factor.

  When she smiles, I can see that she’s bleached her teeth.

  About Savi I say, Where is she from?

  We flew her in from Calcutta, Dapper Dan explains. Our Plaxco colleague Vernon Squall used her last month in Boca. He absolutely raved, so we had to get in on the action.

  Kara says, It’s like having a little bit of the South Asia right in your own home.

  Dapper Dan adds, Don’t you just love the way she moves?

  I think he might be wearing a hint of eyeliner. Every time they come home, something’s a little weirder about them. Like they’re getting more and more sci-fi.

  About the little silver dishes of food Kara says, The spices are supposed to be really good for you. Cumin. The curry.

  Dapper Dan offers, Great for digestion, the humors, et cetera.

  I haven’t seen Kara and Dapper Dan in a few weeks. They just returned from Rome, where they were on a business retreat. To learn how to sell more pills. How to identify sadness from Europe, from across oceans, from outer space. They sent me iPhone pictures of them posing with each other in front of statues, waterfalls, distant Italian hills. I mostly delete them. The ones I keep are for my amusement. I print them out and draw bugs on their faces.

  I have dreams in which I remove their insides with large forceps and hang them on a clothesline in front of wild dogs chained to telephone poles.

  Dapper Dan says, How’s school, Carla?

  I say, School’s been done for over a month, Dad-o. Don’t you remember graduation?

  Of course we remember, Kara says. We took all those pictures with the Sony DSLR fourteen-point-two megapixel. You graduated top of your class. You got that creative writing award. For that story you wrote about the alligator.

  It was a crocodile, I say. A congregation of crocs.

  Of course we remember, Dapper Dan assures me.

  Then he says, Are you enjoying your summer?

  Yes, I say. Are you enjoying yours?

  He says, Your mother and I have been having a wonderful time.

  I say, Traveling the globe must be rad.

  Dapper Dan catalogs the tour.

  He says, Italy, Istanbul, Marrakesh . . .

  We even spent a few days in Paris, Kara adds.

  I say, But there aren’t any sad people in Paris.

  And Dapper Dan says, But they love popping pills!

  Kara takes a forkful of chicken madras and says, Next week we’re going to Tahiti, right, Dan?

  Before he can answer, I say, Can I come?

  But Kara says, Oh, Carla, it
’s for business.

  And I say, Oh, Mom, I’m just joshing, and I say it just like her because I’m her daughter after all. I sure as shit don’t look like it but the fact is I pried myself loose from her perfectly waxed, aerobicizedly tightened, now surgically repaired bod fourteen years ago.

  Why Tahiti? I ask.

  Plaxco’s opening up a division there, Dapper Dan explains. They’re flying us out to meet the new hires.

  Eating.

  Utensils on plates.

  The expensive Bangalore wine being sipped.

  Dapper Dan says, Carla, honey, can you pass the badami gosht?

  I say, Dad, you say that with such a charmingly informed accent.

  He says, Why, thank you, Carla, that’s very sweet. You learn so much traveling. You should hear the things your mother can say in Spanish.

  Mi casa es su casa.

  That’s awesome, Mom.

  Dapper Dan: She can say the Lord’s prayer too, right, Kara?

  Kara says, I sure can. Padre nuestro and all that. Then to me she says, Carla, have you been losing weight?

  I’ve actually been gaining, I say. I’ve put on fifteen to twenty. Mostly on my ass and tits. Wanna see?

  Carla!, Dapper Dan protests.

  Dad! I protest back.

  He says, Since when have you talked like that to us?

  Kara says, Oh, she’s just teasing, Dan.

  I say, I’m totally just teasing, Dan — I mean Dad. By the way, I think I’m gonna change my name.

  Dapper Dan says, Oh, yeah?

  Yeah, Dad, I say, yeah.

  Mom has to spit something in her napkin and set it in her lap.