“Kids adapt,” Pat said. “Eddie won’t be hard to cheer up.”
“It’ll help if it’s a good waffle,” Harmony said. “He’s very particular.”
“Good Lord, a waffle’s a waffle,” Neddie said.
“That’s not how Eddie sees it,” Harmony said.
2.
Eddie woke up as they were passing through Boulder City, where they found a big truck stop with a cafe attached. The cafe was called the Belt Buster.
“I used to run with truckers, they’re fun when you’re young,” Pat said. “Let’s try it.”
Most of the parked trucks still had their motors running, a fact which annoyed Eddie. He insisted on taking Teresa into the restaurant.
“Stop those motors!” he said loudly, the minute he got inside the cafe. “They’re making exhaust and exhaust is bad for the Earth.”
Several of the truckers looked startled; they had not expected to be yelled at by a five-year-old boy while eating their ham and eggs.
“You better shut up or you’ll get us stomped, Eddie,” Pat said. “Some of these old boys probably don’t take kindly to environmentalists anyway.”
Harmony smiled at the men, to let them know she wasn’t quite as strict about the planet as her son was.
When Harmony asked Eddie if he wanted a waffle he shook his head. He was smiling, but it was his defiant smile, not his cooperative smile.
“I’m sorry, but I’m on a hunger strike,” he informed them all.
“A hunger strike—to protest what?” Pat asked. “You’re only five, remember?”
“A hunger strike to protest everything,” Eddie said.
“To protest anthrax and everything, even AIDS,” he said.
“What kind of school teaches preschoolers to go on hunger strikes?” Neddie wanted to know.
“I don’t know, do I look like I’m a member of the PTA?” Harmony said, feeling very defensive. She looked at Eddie, to gauge her chances of coaxing him to eat at least something; she decided her chances were small.
“Eddie, is it because we moved away from your friends?” Harmony asked.
“No, but it wasn’t very nice that we did that,” Eddie said. “My friends will be sad now, and I’ll be sad.”
“At least you’ll get a chance to see your grandma and grandpa,” Neddie said. “They’ve never even got to meet you.”
“What are they like?” Eddie asked, in a slightly less defiant tone.
“Well, they’re very old, for starters,” Neddie said.
“Two thousand years old?” Eddie asked.
“Not quite, but nearly,” Pat said.
“What TV shows do they watch?” Eddie asked.
“They don’t see too clearly,” Pat said. “I think they mainly listen to the news.”
“Which news?” Eddie wanted to know. “ABC or CBS or NBC or CNN?”
“Good Lord,” Neddie said. “I give up.”
Harmony knew how stubborn Eddie could be when he chose to go into a hunger strike or some other form of protest.
“Couldn’t you at least have juice so you won’t get dehydrated?” she asked.
“Is that like being abducted?” Eddie inquired.
“Please don’t mention abduction, it’s my worst nightmare,” Harmony said.
While his Aunt Pat was explaining dehydration to Eddie three cowboys walked in and sat down at the next booth. They all had spurs on and the spurs jingled as they walked. Eddie forgot his protest in order to study the cowboys, two of whom were young and friendly.
“Howdy, pardner,” one of the young ones said to Eddie.
Pat was also looking at the cowboys, but not at the young ones. She had her eye on a middle-aged cowboy with huge freckles on his face. He had watery blue eyes and was missing a finger on his right hand. Harmony got a little nervous—maybe Pat’s sex addiction was going to flare up before they could even finish breakfast.
“How’d you lose that finger, cowboy?” Pat asked.
“Pat, it might be personal,” Harmony said.
“Were you on a hunger strike?” Eddie asked the cowboy. “Did you starve until your finger fell off?”
“Whoa, that’s a new one, little buddy,” one of the younger cowboys said.
“I doubt Jethro even knows what a hunger strike is,” the other young cowboy said.
Jethro ducked his head and looked embarrassed.
“Leave him alone, Pat—he’s shy,” Neddie said.
“If he’s shy he might welcome a little encouragement,” Pat said. She had not taken her eyes off the freckled cowboy.
“Uh,” Jethro said, trying to remember what the original question had been. He was not used to being addressed by ladies; the few he knew rarely said a word to him.
“She wants to know how you lost your finger, Jeth,” one of the young cowboys reminded him.
“Roping accident,” Jethro said. “What I get for trying to dally.”
“I’m going to do my hunger strike for a long time,” Eddie said. “I’m going to do it until both my arms fall off.”
“Oh, Eddie, please don’t,” Harmony said. “How could you give me hugs if your arms fall off?”
Sometimes when Eddie was annoyed with the way life was going he made up terrible fates for himself. Harmony tried not to take Eddie’s made-up fates too seriously, but the problem was that Eddie was very convincing when he made up terrible fates.
“I’ll give you many kisses but I won’t be able to give you hugs,” Eddie said.
Pat was still staring at the freckled cowboy.
“Is your name really Jethro?” she asked.
“Dallying means roping with a loose rope,” one of the young cowboys explained. “Jethro got his finger caught in the rope and it popped right off.”
“I’m from Oklahoma, I know what dallying means,” Pat said. “I was dallying myself, before you were even born. There’s more than one way to dally, you know.”
She addressed her last remark to Jethro, who looked at Pat briefly, and then directed his gaze back to his coffee cup.
Harmony thought it might be a good idea to send Laurie a postcard, to let her know they were coming. Most of the postcards in the rack by the cash register were of the Las Vegas Strip, which they had just left behind; or of the Grand Canyon, which was just up ahead. Harmony bought one of each, plus a postcard of a jackalope, a jackrabbit with deer horns on its head. Jackalope postcards seemed to be very popular. She had the feeling that she might go crazy at any moment—or, at the very least, within the next few days—if she didn’t do something normal, such as buy postcards, and send them to people. She meant to send one to Gary, to let him know they had at least made it as far as Boulder City.
When she asked for change for a dollar, in order to buy stamps from the stamp machine, the old lady at the cash register began to glare at her.
“The place to buy stamps is at a post office,” she said. “I can’t be sitting here doling out change all day.”
The old lady had pink hair.
“I just asked for one dollar’s worth,” Harmony said.
“It adds up, though, and the next thing you know, I’m out of quarters,” the old lady said.
A fact Harmony had noticed before was that people in other parts of Nevada weren’t as friendly as people were on the Strip. She bought some orange juice, and a package of Oreo cookies, in case Eddie relented on the hunger strike, later in the day.
“Where is this Grand Canyon?” Neddie asked, once they were rolling again. “Me and Dick meant to have a look at it on our honeymoon, but then the cow fell into the cistern and we never got out of Tarwater.”
“It’s in Arizona,” Harmony said. “Ross and I meant to go there too, but we never got off.”
“What was your excuse, lust?” Pat asked. “Or can you remember that far back?”
Harmony tried her best to remember why she and Ross had skipped their honeymoon to the Grand Canyon but her memory failed her.
“I think I had a bladder
infection,” she offered.
“Lust, what’d I tell you?” Pat said, directing her remark to Neddie, who was still driving.
“I don’t think so, Pat,” Harmony said, annoyed that her sister’s sex addiction seemed to come into every conversation. Why couldn’t she just give it a rest? She knew that she and Ross had been lovers at some point, otherwise Pepper would never have been born, but now that it was many years later she couldn’t remember or imagine why she would even consider sleeping with Ross.
“Where did you go on your honeymoons, Pat?” she asked. She thought it was interesting, which place people planned to go on their honeymoons, even if most of them never made it anywhere near the place.
“Which honeymoon would you like to hear about? Cozumel was the best,” Pat said. “I guess I’ll never run off with that cowboy, he was too shy to look at me.”
“Eat your eggs, honey, I won’t harass you anymore,” Pat had said to Jethro, as they were leaving.
“‘Harass’ is not a very nice word,” Eddie remarked.
“Oh shut up, Eddie,” Pat said. “You’re gonna end up an educated fool if you’re not careful.”
“Keep on with your hunger strike, little buddy,” one of the cowboys said. “Don’t let these tough old girls wear you down.”
“I’m only going to do it until my arms fall off,” Eddie had said.
“I don’t remember my second honeymoon too well,” Pat said now. “In fact I don’t remember my second husband too well.”
“That’s a fine comment, you were married to him fourteen years,” Neddie said.
“I know, but it feels like it happened in another life, or to somebody else, you know?” Pat said.
“Pat, that’s how my whole life feels,” Harmony said. “All of it feels like it happened to someone else.”
“I don’t like this talk,” Eddie said. “It makes me want to be abducted.”
“I know just how you feel, Eddie,” Neddie said.
“We need music—turn on the music,” Eddie said. “See if you can find Iggy Pop for me, Mom.”
“Iggy Pop … is that a potty joke, or what?” Pat asked.
“I doubt we could find a radio station way out here that would be playing Iggy Pop,” Harmony said. “We’re just about to go into Arizona.”
“Arizona might have Iggy Pop, too,” Eddie said. “It’s still in America.”
“Who is this Iggy Pop?” Neddie asked. “I can’t believe the things this kid has heard of.”
“You must be an alien, Aunt Neddie,” Eddie said. “Everybody knows who Iggy Pop is. He’s on MTV every day.”
Neddie kept driving.
“Mom, there’s an alien driving Gary’s car,” Eddie said. “It has to be an alien disguised as my Aunt Neddie, because everyone on Earth knows who Iggy Pop is.”
“My kids probably like him too,” Neddie said, intimidated by Eddie’s confident tone.
“Iggy Pop is just a rock star,” Harmony said.
“You watch too much TV, it’s your mother’s fault,” Pat said, to Eddie. “You ought to be outside, getting into mischief, like other little boys. When we get to Oklahoma your grandpa will take you fishing. Then you’ll be a lot happier.”
“I’d be a lot happier if I could hear some Iggy Pop right now,” Eddie said.
“If I don’t get to hear Iggy I’ll never be happy again,” he added.
Harmony sighed, and turned on the radio. Then, to her surprise and everyone else’s, she began to scream. She had not expected to scream, but then she had not expected to beat her sister Pat with the couch pillow the night before, either. Normally Harmony could track herself as she swayed out of one mood and into another, but in the part of her life that she was living at the moment, the tracking ability had deserted her. She had ceased to be able to anticipate, even by a second or two, which way a mood might break. One moment she was packing, the next moment she was beating Pat with the pillow. One moment she was turning off the radio, like a normal mom whose son had just rejected a particular song or singer, the next moment she was screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Oops, she’s lost it, she’s blowing wild,” Pat said. “You better slow down, Neddie. She might try to jump out of the car.”
“Mom, I was just teasing,” Eddie said, assuming that his mom was screaming because he had threatened to allow himself to be abducted.
To his surprise, his mother kept on screaming. She began to beat her fists against the car seat, too.
“We just passed into Arizona,” Neddie said, speaking loudly so as to be heard over Harmony’s screams.
“I wonder where the nuthouse is in this state,” Pat yelled. “Harmony might need to go to the quiet room for a while.”
“No!” Eddie said, with emphasis. “My mom said we could go to the Grand Canyon and buy souvenirs.”
“Yeah, but your mom’s gone bananas,” Pat pointed out. “Shut up, Harmony. None of us can hear ourselves think with you screaming like that.”
“I don’t care if you think!” Harmony yelled. “I don’t care if you jump out of the car! I don’t care if we all fall into the Grand Canyon! I don’t even care if Eddie gets abducted!”
“Mom, I won’t,” Eddie assured her, patting his mother’s knee. “I was just teasing. I don’t want to get abducted. I want to stay with you and my aunts.”
To Eddie’s relief, his mother began to calm down a little. She was still making a good bit of noise, but it was more like crying than screaming. He decided the threat to let himself be abducted had been going a little too far.
“My mistake, I’m sorry,” he said, giving his mom a hug.
No one said a word, for a mile or two, as Harmony gradually grew more calm. She herself wasn’t sure she was really growing more calm. She wasn’t screaming outside anymore, but she was still screaming inside—any second she might flip and start yelling at the top of her lungs again, even if Eddie had apologized for threatening to let himself be abducted.
“It’s a long-looking old road, this road going into Arizona,” Neddie said.
“I hope the cowboys are a little livelier than that dud I tried to pick up in Nevada,” Pat said.
“Can we still go to the Grand Canyon and get the souvenirs?” Eddie asked. “I’m thinking of breaking my hunger strike and eating some Oreos if we’re still going to get the souvenirs.”
“Eddie, that’s emotional blackmail,” Pat pointed out.
“Pat, he has the right, I’m his mother,” Harmony said, opening the package of cookies with relief.
3.
Harmony had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, but when they got to it, a little late in the day, she didn’t get out of the car. She caught glimpses of the canyon from several observation points—obviously it was a very large canyon. She couldn’t see all the way to the bottom from any of the observation points, but she could see far enough down to know she wanted to stay in the car.
“Why, Mom? It’s very safe, there’s a wall,” Eddie told her, when they were parked at the observation point that had the souvenir shop.
“You won’t fall, Mom,” he added. “I’ll hold your hand.”
“Leave her alone, Eddie—she’s tuckered out from grief,” Pat said. “Let’s you and me go look through one of the telescopes.”
“We can’t,” Eddie said. “Japanese people are looking through the telescopes—all the telescopes.”
Harmony looked out the window and saw that Eddie was right. There were a dozen or so telescopes spaced around the rim of the observation deck; behind each of them was a line of Japanese people.
“It’s okay,” Eddie said, quickly. “I’d rather buy souvenirs, anyway.”
“That’s not a good attitude,” Pat said. “The Grand Canyon is one of the seven wonders of the world. I’ve waited all my life to see it, myself. How come you’d rather buy tacky souvenirs in a stupid gift shop than look through a telescope at one of the seven wonders of the world?”
“I just would,” Eddie said.
“If I could go to the moon it might be different. If I could go to the moon I wouldn’t care if I didn’t buy any souvenirs.
“By the time I grow up maybe there’ll be space buses to the moon,” Eddie added. “I hope so. I want to meet some moon people.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the moon uninhabited?” his Aunt Neddie asked. “I don’t think the astronauts met any moon men when they went to the moon.”
“No, moon people are invisible,” Eddie said. “Stand me on the car and I’ll look into the Grand Canyon for a minute, before we buy any souvenirs.”
“That’s gracious of you,” Pat said.
“If I wasn’t so tired I’d scream some more,” Harmony said. “It felt good to scream like that.”
“But it’s very impolite, Mom,” Eddie pointed out. “It’s even impolite to raise your voice.”
“What if I can’t help it, Eddie?” Harmony asked. “What if a scream just comes out?”
“Well, the Japanese people might think it’s Godzilla,” Eddie warned her. He crawled out a window and managed to hoist himself onto the top of the car, from which he had a nice view of many Japanese people looking through telescopes at the Grand Canyon.
Far away, Eddie could see a great space, bluish in color.
“He’s even heard of Godzilla,” Neddie said. “What if Eddie’s a genius?”
“No, he just watches Mystery Science Theater,” Harmony said. “They show a lot of Godzilla movies.”
“I wonder if they have Evel Knievel souvenirs?” Eddie said, from his post on top of the car. “He jumped the Grand Canyon on his motorcycle.”
“Nope, that was the Snake River Canyon he tried to jump,” Aunt Pat said. “He didn’t make it, either. He opened his parachute too soon.”
Eddie lay down on the car and edged his head out far enough that he could peek down and look his aunt in the eye.
“Don’t say those words to me,” he said, but he said it mildly. “I was talking about the Evel Knievel in my dream. He jumped over the Grand Canyon and landed on the moon, and the moon people gave him popcorn.”
“Oh, Eddie, that was me,” Harmony said. “I gave Evel Knievel popcorn in the casino one night. He used to want to have a date with me.”
The Late Child Page 11
