The Cave Painter & The Woodcutter

by Don Hannah

  She was so… she was…

  He’s lost for a moment.

  And ain’t that why Jesus come? Ta tell us that we’re all the same? Rich and poor? Can’t buy yer way inta Heaven. One set a rules fer us all. But where’s that get ya?

  Now there’s a bedtime story for ya. I mean Baby Jesus with the wise men and King Herod tryin’ ta kill’m and that. And how he come back from the dead. Christmas and Easter time and…

  He stares out at nothing for a long moment. Night sounds: breeze in the spruce and pine branches.

  Kids’ stories. Ya have ta wonder.

  Mike’s right, ya think. No millionaire hunters or movie stars gonna come walkin’ by out in the woods ta give ya a better life. Even them that’s lookin’ ta save kids, like that Madonna, she’s gonna be doin’ her lookin’ in Africa, that one, not anywhere near those poor kids.

  Or my kids either.

  And that white bread’s not shinin’ in the moonlight, no sir, ’cause the birds flew down and gobbled it all up. No getting back home now.

  Good and lost.

  Just like this.

  Just like this here now.

  There’s been nothin’ flyin’ over all day. Low enough ta be lookin’.

  And where are ya now? Gone home for the night, have ya? (shouts) Useless bastards!

  No sir, good and lost. And for real this time, forever. Never find me out here.

  Even if they find the car. She’s miles away now, that car, no chance a me ever findin’ my way back ta wherever she is. Road’s not even on a map, I bet. Loggin’ road like that.

  Piece a junk anyway, that Excel, couldn’t keep’r on the road much longer.

  Owed me nothin’ though, always turned over first time no matter how cold she was. And we had fun with that old car. Angie and me, takin’ a drive with the kids.

  Bobby goin’, “Let’s sing, let’s do tapiokee.” That’s what he called karaoke, tapiokee.

  Kids, Jesus Murphy. Go figure.

  “Let’s do ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’!”

  Angie sticks her fingers in her ears goin’, “No no no!” pretendin’ like she hates it. And Brittie starts up with the “woof woofs.”

  And Bobby’s all, “Who let the dogs out! Woof woof! Who let the dogs out!” Over and over.

  An owl hoots in the distance.

  Not gonna see those poor kids again.

  He stops. Another owl, from another direction, and closer nearby. He listens.

  They’re out huntin’.

  After mice or squirrels or…

  They got real quiet wings, they say, owls. Like all soft so nothin’ can hear’m flyin’. So they can sneak up on what they’re huntin’ and…

  He listens. Owls, lonely, in the distance.

  They’d a heard that, those two.

  “What’s that? I’m ascared.”

  “Just an owl, there, Gretel. S’just an old owl. Nuthin’ ta worry ’bout at all. You get yerself some sleep and I’ll watch over.”

  And he did. And she looked out for him, too, after the witch locked’m up.

  He listens.

  That’s a powerful thing, havin’ each other. Me and Mike, when we was young, every time we got sent someplace different, we was close and he looked out fer me.

  He was bigger, see.

  One time, after we was at Gram’s, it was when we stayed at Mrs. Thompson’s place just outside a town—she was somethin’ else herself, that Mrs. Thompson, she was…

  But it’s her son who’s the big bully in that place, Marvin. Now there’s no sin in bein’ fat, but he was spoiled rotten too, big fat brat that Marvin Thompson. No one liked’m—kids at school called him Tubby Thompson right t’his face. Older than me, like Mike’s age. And at me every day, always at me. One time, I’m down the road by the little bridge, playin’ by myself. Springtime, lots a water runnin’, and I’m floatin’ these pieces a wood like they’re boats when Tubby comes by and starts pushin’ me.

  “Who ya think y’re, you an that sneaky brother a yours?”

  Like it was our idea to come live with that family a his. I don’t think so.

  “You two stay away from my rabbits, ya little fuckers!”

  “We don’t care about yer stupid rabbits. Only girls like’m anyways.”

  “Ya callin’ me a girl? I’ll show ya who’s a girl.”

  And he’s pushin’ and pushin’ me, and then when I’m pushed down he’s kickin’ me in the side over and over, when Mike, see, he’s on a bike on the road up there, and when he sees what’s goin’ on, he comes tearin’ down t’us and he just comes flyin’ off that bike—don’t even hit the brakes, jumps right off in mid-air Jesus Murphy, knocks old Tubby right over inta the ditch and beats the living shit right outta him. Ha!

  He come and saved me. We was close.

  Where’d I be without that Mike?

  The first owl again.

  I believe Gram and Fa ta be close like that. Never heard’m argue or fight really. With each other, I mean. And she was lost without’m, she just give up once he’s gone.

  I s’pose that Mom was always lookin’ for that, after Dad died like, that someone, I mean, to be close to. Mike said that she’d go out dancin’ with Frankenstein if she thought she’d get herself lucky. Rather go out with anyone after a while than stay at home with us, that’s for sure. And some a them’s real losers, he told me. “She must a liked’m stupid,” he said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “You tell me. Most a them’d give Ernest Goes ta Camp a run for his money.”

  Some things I remember mostly ’cause he told me. After she’s gone, and we was at Gram’s, Mike’d take me by where she useta live.

  The owls, further away. The wind is heard, soft at first, in the spruce branches. He shivers; he’s chilly.

  It sure was different after he took off. People can be so mean. Like kids at school an’ that. That girl the other day, makin’ fun a Brittie. She should a had that mouth a hers slapped for that, pickin’ on someone that way.

  And she’s the sweetest thing, Brittie… just the sweetest…

  That sweet, sweet face…

  Wind in the branches above him.

  Looks like her mom when she was young, I ’magine. Like Angie.

  And he’s like Mike, little Bobby. I could see that.

  Some smart too. Just like his Uncle Mike, lookin’ out for his family.

  The way he come chargin’ in…

  He come chargin’ in at me…

  (whispers) Holy Jesus.

  A very long pause. The only sounds are from the woods: very quiet and lonely. He shivers.

  Should a brought a blanket or a—

  (suddenly, violently) Did he bring a blanket for those two kids? No sir, just a crust a bread. A crust a bread! And you ain’t gettin’ that! You ain’t gettin’ nuthin’, ya hear, nuthin’! Freeze and starve, that’s what y’re gonna get, ya fucker! Freeze and starve!

  He calms down.

  Crust a bread. Period.

  Alone in the woods, crust a bread.

  And who comes by? Who comes by for them kids?

  Nobody. Nobody comes by.

  What’s more likely, when ya think about it—bein’ found and saved by someone like Madonna walkin’ by out there in the woods? Or findin’ a house out in the middle a goddamn nowhere made a friggin’ gingerbread?

  “It’s just a story,” they say. “Keep yer traps shut and listen.”

  “But if the witch and her gingerbread house hadn’t come along, wouldn’t they a starved ta death?”

  “Mike’s right,” I says, “listen ta Mike.”

  And he goes, “Not like they’re Indians and know what’s what in the woods. How ta catch somethin’ and start a fire without matches and that. Ya think those two’d know how ta skin
a bunny?”

  Tubby Thompson with those pens a his out the back; cute, ya think. But when they had babies, ya can’t go near’m, ’cause the does’d panic sometimes, kill the litter. Eat them even. Strange. Animals, I mean, at times. No better’n people.

  Learned how ta skin’m though. Ya hit’m, right behind the ears, and knock’m out. Then hang’m up, take off the head and the front legs, cut circles round the back legs, join that up, take off the little tail there, then pull the whole works down over the body. Nothin’ to it really.

  But they didn’t know how. In the story. And no ways ta cook it anyway, and nothin’ on them ta use for a snare even or a trap ta catch’m.

  The witch’s house, that house, see, there’s a trap.

  At Christmastime, some places, they make these gingerbread houses for decoration—little ones I mean, like toy ones they won’t let ya eat at first. And by the time they do, it’s so dried out and stale, who wants to eat that? Not me. S’like tarpaper. But what’s that all about when ya think about it, them houses at Christmas? Saw one first at a foster home, place right in town. Owens was the name there. Wasn’t there long. A gingerbread house all laid out on cotton batten on the hall bureau.

  “What’s that got ta do with Christmas?”

  “Whatta ya mean?”

  “Is it like bad King Herod who kills the babies ’cause he wants ta get at Baby Jesus?”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Ted?”

  “I’m just askin’,” I says.

  “Well, don’t get smart.”

  But I’m right. Gingerbread house’s a trap. Hansel’s locked in that cage ’cause the witch trapped him and plans to kill’m. Isn’t that somethin’ like that Herod’d do ta get his hands on the Baby Jesus? But she’s even worse’n that—she’s not just a witch, she’s like a cannibal. She plans ta get’m all fattened up so’s she can eat’m. What she wasn’t, that witch, was magic. She was just a mean old thing who ate children. No spells that I can remember, like that abracadabra, or ridin’ around on a broomstick or…

  No. She’s just old and near blind and she had a trap fer kids so she could cook’m up like a big chooky dinner on Sunday.

  Gives ya the creeps.

  Pause. An owl very faintly in the distance.

  What kept them goin’, those two, was that they had each other, they weren’t alone.

  “That’s the good thing ’bout family, that, havin’ a sister or a brother.” I told my kids that.

  “It’s important that ya stick together. Then y’re not alone. Ya can help each other.”

  Isn’t that why we tell’m the story? S’what it’s all about.

  I heard it with Mike at Gram’s and at Mrs. Owens’s, too, and at the Thompsons’ and probably even with Mum way back. Everybody knows it. At school it’s a picture book and Gram had it on my dad’s View-Master, but it’s always Hansel and Gretel and the gingerbread house. And they won out, they did. It was tough goin’, but Gretel shoved that witch in the oven, give’r a taste of her own medicine, cooked her up. And after, after the little duck brings’m home with the witch’s treasure, after that, then everythin’s just dandy forever.

  Was it ever a real true story? I mean, like way back? In Germany or wherever it is that they lived, that family? The Black Forest? How’d it get started? Was they real kids once upon a time?

  Mike’s smart as a whip. “What’s that house do when it rains?” he says. “Don’t it get all soggy and melt?”

  “It’s a story,” they say, “just quiet up and listen.”

  “But it’d get some sticky. Turn right ta mush.”

  “Don’t get smart.”

  “End up lookin’ like a big pile a puke.”

  Little Bobby always liked that part. That part about his Uncle Mike.

  They should a met, those two. Things would a been real different if Mike could’ve come ta see his nephew. What a different world it would a been all around. Mike comin’ ta visit us after all that time.

  “Dad, there’s a man says he knows ya at the door!”

  “Why that’s yer uncle Mike.”

  “Yer big brother?”

  “One and the same!”

  Mike comin’ back ta see us all…

  Pickin’ little Bobby up, tossin’m in the air.

  Angie goin’, “Careful now, careful.”

  All of us happy…

  I know it could never’ve happened, but what if? What if?

  Before all this, before yesterday, worst thing in my whole life was losin’ Mike. I never knew ya could feel that bad about anythin’.

  Suddenly, he erupts.

  Ya don’t teach us that, do ya? (shouts) Do ya?

  Don’t teach us that’s gonna happen!

  What good are ya? Can’t teach us nothin’ useful, now ya can’t even find me, can’t even find me, ya fuckers!

  Useless assholes. Useless search party assholes. I dare ya! (shouts) I dare ya!

  Stupid fuckers.

  Calms himself.

  You ever feel this bad? Any a you ever feel this bad?

  Waits.

  Didn’t think so.

  A moment.

  When Mom brought us ta Gram and Fa, after Dad died, I s’pose I felt bad then. But I can’t remember much, I was so little. Then Fa’s shovellin’ the driveway one night when he keels over, same as happened ta Dad. I was asleep, slept through the whole thing—ambulance, Mike told me, the whole works. Got up next mornin’ and s’all diff’rent, the whole world’s changed. Gram’s just…

  Well, first my dad, see, her son, and then her husband, and I see now how close those two things were. So close. She just…

  “Dead before they hit the ground, the both a them.” That’s what she kept sayin’, like she couldn’t believe it.

  I can’t really blame her, Gram, I mean, lookin’ back. Mike, though, always did. After she tracked down Mom, and Mom’s all, “No way, I can’t cope, can’t cope just yet.” Gram says, “Too selfish, that one. Too damn lazy.” And Mike gets all mad, starts shoutin’.

  He and Gram never got along, see. Maybe mostly ’cause he had a different father from me, so no kin ta her and Fa whatsoever. So he always cursed her for callin’ in the Aid. Always-always.

  I’m sittin’ on the floor by the TV watchin’ Dukes a Hazzard. I remember it so clear. Bo and Luke and their car and that, and even which show it was, the one with Boss Hogg’s twin brother, who wore black but was good. Boss Hogg’s like the evil twin. We was at Mrs. Conrad’s place then. She was somethin’ and her husband was worse when he was around. But he drove a bus and was away a lot a the time. Heather was almost same age as me, and nice ta me usually, Heather was, and we kept up some, but she had no use for Mike. I’m watchin’ TV by myself, I’d be about twelve and Mike, he’s sixteen. We been with the Thompsons and the Allens and the Owenses and Mrs. Fisher and some whose names I forget ’cause the times there wasn’t long enough. Then we was stuck with the Conrads. That’s how Heather’s mom put it, “Y’re stuck with us now,” she says. I never knew if it was s’posed ta be funny or what.

  Mike comes in and sits down on the rug beside me. “I’m headin’ out,” he says.

  “It’s almost supper.” I’m thinkin’ how it’ll piss her off if he goes outside right now. She’ll get all cranky at me and Heather.

  “I don’t mean this minute. And I don’t mean I’m just goin’ out either.”

  “Whatta ya mean then?”

  “Dig the shit outta yer ears, I’m takin’ off.”

  “For good?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Where to?”

  “Somewhere I won’t go mental like here. Like New York or Montreal or somewhere.”

  “What’ll ya do there?”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “So long as I get outta this shithol
e.”

  And me?

  And me?

  I’m waitin’ for him ta say that he wants me ta take off with him, but he don’t. Takin’ off is just for him all by himself.

  One night shortly after that, a week or so after he took off and didn’t come back, it was then, I’m lyin’ there in bed thinkin’ that he’s gone now and left me for good. I know he’s never comin’ back. Just like Mom, just like Gram.

  “Why me,” I’m thinkin’. “Why’s this happen ta me and not some prick somewhere, or someone in like Africa that I’ll never know? Why me? ”

  And this feelin’ starts up in me, this thing like it’s always gonna be like this. ’Cause if even Mike takes off on me, I’m thinkin’, even Mike, well…

  What’d I ever do? How many times did I want ta tell someone like that Mrs. Thompson ta like, “Frickin’ bite me!” or tell that Mrs. Allen ta like, “Go stick a chooky up yer big fat ass.” But I hold my tongue and do what I’m s’posed to. I try and be grateful, like they says. Sunday school says if ya do what’s right, ya can’t go wrong, ya’ll get yer reward.

  I useta talk ta Mike ’bout stuff but now only one I have ta talk to is myself. And ya have to be careful ’bout that though ’cause people hear ya, think y’re crazy. They make fun a ya. Angie, even, sometimes, was mean about that. About catchin’ me talkin’ ta myself.

  She’d be like, “Who’s in there with ya?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Who ya talkin’ to?”

  “Nobody, I’m sittin’ on the throne.”

  “Then knock it off. Ya sound all stupid. Ya want the kids ta think y’re crazy in the head?”

  So I tell’r, “I’m just figurin’ things out! I’m just tryin’ ta figure things out out loud!”

  (shouts) I don’t care if ya can hear me! Don’t give a sweet shit! Come and get me, ya asshole pricks!

  When I come downstairs the mornin’ after Fa died, whole world was different, but that was nothin’ compared ta bein’ around once Mike’s gone, that was a piece a cake! There’s some days when it wasn’t bad, like if I could forget about him takin’ off and that. But mostly…