by Howard Buten
Jessica didn’t say anything. I sat down on the sofa. Outside the rain stopped. On the edge of the sky it was red. Everything in the house was brown. In winter it gets dark early and you turn the clocks backwards. The sky is where God lives, I have prayed to him there. I prayed for Jessica’s father to not be dead, but God didn’t help me. When I was little I used to think that night was when clouds covered the sky.
“You got the sofa wet,” I told Jessica. She looked at me and said, “When my daddy died my mom covered everything with sheets so the company wouldn’t spill on it. She only uncovered it yesterday. She said it was time to stop being sad, but she cried all night.” Jessica looked at where it was wet. “She should have left it on.”
I looked out the window, and put my nose on it and breathed out donuts. I said, “Look, Jessica, donuts,” but she was looking at something else, by the stairs, hanging on the bannister, a purse.
Across the street a porch light went on. It got darker outside. I looked for the moon but it was gone now. A dog went down the sidewalk, a man walked him. An airplane went over, the noise was behind it. Down the block somebody yelled, “I’ve got to move the car,” and Jessica stood up and walked into the hall, she looked at the purse, and said, “That’s my mother’s purse.” Then she looked up the stairs. Then she walked up the stairs.
I sat on the sofa. There was a candle on the table on the doily but it wasn’t lit, it was off. The refrigerator in the kitchen hummed. The grandfather’s clock rang five times. And outside the sky turned dark blue with no stars. I folded my hands up in my lap and waited, but Jessica didn’t come back down.
I got up. I walked into the hall. It smelled like Jessica. I looked at the purse.
I listened. There wasn’t any noise. I put my foot on the first step. It had carpet on it. I was standing on the stairs.
I walked up the stairs. When I got to the top I looked around. I could hardly see. I waited for my eyes to get used to it. There was a bathroom. Next to it was a bedroom with a big bed for two people. Next to it was a closet, I opened it and it had sheets and towels in it. Then I looked down the hall. At the end I saw another room, the door was open and Jessica was inside, sitting on her bed sideways looking out the window, her feet hung over the edge.
I walked up to her doorway and stopped. She didn’t hear me. I stood and watched her just. Her face was lit up from outside and her eyes had diamonds in them. I waited and waited and soon she started to sing a little song.
Kukaberra sits
In the old gum tree
Merry merry king
Of the bush is he
Laugh Kukaberra
Laugh Kukaberra
Gay your life must be.
I listened. I watched her lips open and close open and close. She leaned on three pillows. One was pink, one was checkered, one was plain. Her feet dangled over the side of the bed. I watched.
In the corner of the room was a wood horse that was really a chair. On her ceiling was a lamp with clowns on it, and hanging from her wall over her bed was Jerry the Puppet.
Jessica pushed off her shoes and they fell on the floor. She pulled her legs up on the bed, she had on knee socks still, folded on top and smooth and soft. Then she said something.
“Peter Pan is a girl.” She was looking out the window still. “They made her look like a boy but she is a girl, they just cut her hair short and made her wear a tight brassiere.”
(I saw it too, on television, and it made me want to fly so I made my dad call up the television station to find out how they did it, but Jeffrey said there wasn’t anybody on the other end, that my dad lied to me.)
“I’m not old enough to wear a brassiere,” said Jessica. “But I have one, my mom gave it to me, for when am.”
She went into her closet and took it out. She showed it to me, it made me feel funny. It was wrong. I’m not supposed to look at them. But then I did something, I took it and put it on myself, only backwards. “Look, Jessica,” I said. “I’m a camel.”
It surprised me that she laughed. She laughed like I never heard before, it was like singing. I put the brassiere on my head and jumped up and down and she laughed more and I put it on my face and then she fell on her bed laughing.
“Knock knock,” I said (it was a joke).
“Who’s there?”
“Boo.”
“Boo who?” said Jessica.
“You don’t have to cry about it,” I said.
Jessica looked at me. “I’m not,” she said.
“No, see. You don’t have to cry about it.”
“I’m not, Burt.” She stopped laughing.
“No, it’s a joke.”
“What is?”
She just turned around to the window again, because she didn’t understand.
“Jessica, it’s a joke,” I said.
But she wouldn’t turn back around. I watched her back, it made little humps, she was crying.
“Jessica.” I said her name but she just put her head down on the bed and her shoulders went up and down up and down. I didn’t know what to do, so I walked next to the bed.
I tried to show her a magic trick, you pull your thumb off it looks like, but she wouldn’t look.
“Maybe we can pretend, Jessica,” I said. “Something. So you won’t be sad.”
“No,” she said. “That’s for children. I don’t want to be children anymore.” She said, “I hate it,” and hit her bed, and said “I hate it” again and hit her bed, and again, she made noise with her voice like an animal. “I hate being children!” she screamed and put her head inside her arm and layed down on the bed and cried.
I didn’t know what to do. I stood and watched and was angry. Because I am children too. And I hate it too.
My mom told me that someday when I was grown up I would love somebody and it would mean I would want to stop everyone from hurting her. I used to think it was Shrubs. But it wasn’t. It was Jessica.
I sat down on the bed next to her and put my hand on her hair on the ribbons, and I pulled one of them, and it came undone and fell on the bed. And the other one. I held it in my hand. And I put it on my cheek, because it was softness. Like Jessica.
When she looked up at me her hair was in her face. I pushed it back with my hands and it was wet too but not from outside but from crying. I picked up a tear on my finger and put it in my eyes.
I put my arms around Jessica like Daddy does when I cry and did this to the back of her head. She rolled over and leaned on me with her side on me, it was warm. I took off my coat and someone fell out onto the bed. Monkey Cuddles. I put him on the window sill looking outside, to keep guard over Jessica Renton and me.
And I looked at her crying and I said something real soft. “I won’t let anybody hurt you. I won’t. I’ll make it so we won’t be children anymore.”
And she looked up at me with her eyes and pushed down on me with her head on my stomach and I pulled her to me tight and it was warm on me. Outside I saw it started to snow and Monkey Cuddles watched it in the wind but we were warm inside. And suddenly something happened. I saw the streetlights go on. They lit up and shined on us. Jessica put her face against my stomach and said, “You are my friend,” and her eyes had diamonds in them.
I put my chin on her hair and she put her face up on mine, it was soft as blankee and she put her mouth on my face, she pulled on my shirt. She rolled over and her dress went up over her arms that were around me and she went back on the bed and pulled me on top of her and I felt her hands in my pockets, they pushed down over my legs, over me. I felt an airplane under my tummy, with rubber bands that wound up tighter and tighter. Jessica held my tushy and made it go up and down up and down. In front of her, where I felt her, she had a little tushy on her, and it was soft like kissing. And suddenly I heard a noise, from very far away, coming to Jessica’s house. Running down Seven Mile Road. Hooves. A horse running with nobody on it. Blacky. Louder and louder past all the stores. And then I heard something else. A bike with cards in t
he spokes, next to Blacky, coming, with nobody riding, racing louder and louder, to me. Under my tummy the airplane wound tighter and tighter and I held Jessica and her legs were around me and I said, “Don’t be scared anymore,” and she said, “I’m not now, I’m not now. I’m not now.” The noise got louder and Blacky and the bike were nearer and I knew they were coming, the rubber band was tighter and I thought I was dying too, I was almost dead. And then I flew. I flew over the house and the street and Maxwell’s, over Lauder and school, over everything, down to Jessica. I saw I was almost there. I was almost there. And then I was there.
Somebody screamed, “Oh my God.” The light went on. She pulled me off the bed and threw me against the wall and blood came out of my face. I slid to the floor. All I saw was her purse and she grabbed Jessica and I screamed, “Don’t you touch her don’t you touch her,” and slammed her with my fists but she threw me down again and I couldn’t stand up.
[20]
“WHAT’S YOUR PHONE NUMBER!” SCREAMED JESSICA’S mother. I thought I couldn’t move, my face had blood on it. I felt like I had to throw up.
“What’s the number, can’t you understand English?” She grabbed my arm. “I’m talking to you!” I closed my eyes and went away.
Jessica kneeled on her bed with her face in the pillows. She cried and cried. When her mother went to touch her she wouldn’t let her.
“How could this happen?” said her mother. “What kind of disgusting animal are you anyway? You should be locked up someplace. What kind of family could you come from, to raise something like you. I’m going to take care of you though, don’t worry, you’ll never do this again, not to my little girl, or anyone. Do you hear me?”
She grabbed my hair and pulled my face back.
“Do you hear me?”
I came back. I opened my eyes. “If you touch her,” I whispered, “I’ll kill you.”
I don’t know how she got the number but she called my parents. She said I said I would kill her.
My mom came and put me in the car. I tried to stay with Jessica, I held on to her bed, I had a tantrum, but I couldn’t hold on. When I got home there was a policeman and my father. I didn’t talk to anyone. My mother put medicine on my face. She was crying I remember.
I remember they made me go to bed and the doctor came and gave me medicine to make me sleepy. I couldn’t get up. I almost can’t remember, but I remember the phone, it kept ringing like bells, and I heard it was Jessica’s mother.
The next day my mother and father put me in the car and brought me here, to The Children’s Trust Residence Center. And left me. Jessica’s mother made them do it, but they said they thought it was best too.
And now I have been here for two months. Hanukah was three weeks ago. I got clothes in a box from my mom and dad, it was tied up with string. I took the string and tied it around one of my socks and hung it on the wall, like a puppet.
I don’t write here frequent anymore, because Dr Nevele says it is better to talk to him at appointments. I don’t even come to the Quiet Room frequent. I can control myself.
Rudyard left The Children’s Trust Residence Center, but he came back. But I don’t see him, he doesn’t come to my wing or the Playroom, he is upstairs. I think about him when I go swimming. I can do the Dog Paddle. I am going to teach it to Monkey Cuddles when I get home. He likes swimming except I will never see him again. He was at Jessica’s house. I think her mother killed him.
I saw Rudyard. It was upstairs where Mrs Cochrane took me to see another doctor who showed me pictures and had me name things. It was a test. When I came out Rudyard was in the hall with a child, he was holding it in his arms, it made faces.
He looked at me. I looked at him. We looked at each other for a long time. Then he said, “I have something for you.”
He put the child down and stood up. He looked at me again and reached into his back pocket.
“I’ve been carrying this around for a week,” he said. “I don’t even know why. Tell Dr Nevele you found it somewhere.”
I looked at it, it was an envelope. When I looked up at Rudyard he was crying. He was crying for me. So I did something. I put my hand under my chin and gave him the High Sign.
The child ran down the hall and Rudyard ran after him. Down the hall, he got smaller and smaller.
I opened the envelope. Then I closed it. I was shaking in my hands. Because I was afraid.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I layed in bed in my wing and looked at the ceiling, there was a window in it, where the lights shined in from the hall.
Outside the doors I heard the janitors go home, they said they were like to freeze their dicks off. And when they were gone there wasn’t anybody. It was late. It was quiet. Manny sucked his thumb and Howie breathed in bed next to me. I just watched the window in the ceiling, and watched and watched.
I got out of bed. I reached under my pillow and took the letter, Jessica’s letter. I went to the door. I looked out. It was empty. I went. I walked next to the wall. It had somebody on it, my shadow. We walked next to the wall, me and me.
I was going somewhere with myself.
I went through a door that said stairs. It was stairs. I went up them and up them. My feet made echoes but I didn’t stop. Then I went out another door and turned this way. I went all the way to the end and then I turned this way. I went through glass doors and then I was in another hall. There was a nurse behind a table. She read a book. She didn’t see me. Then I went through another door. Inside the room was a row of beds. I walked down the row to the last bed.
Carl was tied down, they had straps on him. He didn’t even try to move even, but he saw me with his eyes. They were open. He couldn’t sleep either. There was a folding chair by the window. I took it and opened it and sat down next to Carl’s bed. He smiled at me. I wasn’t afraid.
“It’s me,” I said. “From the Playroom, remember I pushed you.”
Carl didn’t say anything. His eyes went sideways in his head once but he looked at me.
“I am confused,” I said, “about Rudyard and Dr Nevele. Rudyard showed me swimming and he was my friend, but he lied about the wall, about reading the wall.”
Carl smiled. I saw his stomach go up and down up and down. Noise came from the other beds, it sounded like puppies. It was children.
“And Dr Nevele. He doesn’t understand children and it makes him sad. He said I didn’t have any letters.”
Carl stopped moving.
“And now there isn’t anybody. I wish I was home. I wish I wasn’t anywhere.”
I sat with Carl for the rest of the night. I just sat next to him and he watched me, smiling, and I stayed. It was very quiet in the room, like everyone had gone away to heaven.
When morning came I went. I walked back down the hall. Nurses came in and took their coats off and hung them. I went to the Quiet Room. I opened the door and turned on the light, but someone was in there, curled up on the floor against the wall.
She woke up when I came in and sat up and looked at me and rubbed her eyes and she looked like a little baby almost. She put on her glasses to see who it was, and it was me.
“Mrs Cochrane.”
She had wrinkles from the floor. She was like dizzy. She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. She started to get up but she couldn’t. She was too old. I looked at her, she was like a little child. I knew she came there to wait for me because I wasn’t in my bed, she had checked on me. I watched her. She didn’t say anything. Sat just, on the floor in front of the wall, where she had wrote He wanted to see time fly. I knew it was her.
I was very sleepy. I turned off the light in the Quiet Room and layed down on the floor next to her and she put her arm on me. I moved closer and she kept her arm on me. She kept it there while I slept.
[21]
Dear Randy,
I don’t know if I’ll be able to write very soon again because my mother is taking me to private school tomorrow. It is far, in Ohio. She said there are lots of nice childr
en there, I will forget.
The doctor at the hospital told her to send me. He said that what happened will bother me for a long time, and maybe I’ll have bad dreams. He gave my mother pills to give me to sleep.
The night I got home from the hospital she put me to bed in her room and gave me a pill. But I hid it in my mouth and spit it out. And when she was gone I got up and went into my own room. I got in bed but I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid. Then I heard a noise, it scared me and I turned on the lamp. Then it went away. But when I turned the light off it came again. I was scared. I listened real hard.
It was dark, there was only a little light that came in from the streetlights. And I saw Monkey Cuddles sitting on the window looking out where you put him. It was him. He was singing
Kukaberra sits
In the old gum tree
Merry merry king
Of the bush is he
Laugh Kukaberra
Laugh Kukaberra
Gay your life must be.
I listened to him sing it over and over. It was soft. And when I fell asleep I dreamed about rainbows.
Jessica
Dear Jessica,
Once I was five. It was summer. I got to stay up late because there wasn’t school. And one night I had a bad dream.
I woke up. It was all dark in my room. There was a shadow over the closet. Everything was quiet. I didn’t feel good. I was sweating. It was cold on me. I sat up and waited. I waited and waited. Then I got out of bed. I pointed at the door and went. I walked into the hall in my pajamas. I stood in the hall next to the night-light in front of my parents’ room. I listened. But I didn’t hear anything. Inside of their room was black.
I stood in my pajamas. I looked in my parents’ room but it was dark. I listened but I didn’t hear any noise. And I said something, very soft, in the hall.
Is anybody there?
