The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green

by Joshua Braff

  “Out there,” I say, and knock on the glass. They both look up at me and I wave them inside. My father lifts his glasses to his forehead and begins to read from the back of one of the invitations. “Ushers, chairs, popcorn, and lights,” he says, and lowers the paper. “There’s tons to do. Megan. Where’s Megan?”

  Rule Number 7 of the Green House Rules

  Any member of the family that proceeds to ejaculate on Megan should feel a torturous and unrelenting sense of mortal shame, coupled with a near psychotic desire to disappear from this God’s earth.

  a. But I wasn’t trying to. (It doesn’t matter.)

  b. I couldn’t hold it. (No shit.)

  c. I felt it rising and . . . (Yuck, who cares?)

  “Jacob?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you knock on her door or not?”

  Asher walks in the room in torn red pants and bare feet. Dara’s right behind him with lawn grass on her poodle sweater. “Murray Blatt needs some help,” says Asher, tying his hair up off his neck. “He says the toilet in the den won’t flush.”

  “Again?” my mother says.

  “Why are people here already? The invitation said six.” My dad takes a deep breath and exhales in spurts through his nose. “What did he put in the toilet?”

  Asher looks at me with a smile and shrugs his shoulders. “A doody? I don’t know, Dad . . . uh . . . the seat’s down.”

  Dara and I have to laugh. The word “doody” is too much for us. My father’s eyes leap to Asher knees. “What the hell is this? Change now. You’re not wearing those. Go. Go.”

  Asher leans over to look at them and swipes at the holes. “I’ve been cleaning up all day. They’re old.”

  “They’re rude. Get out of my sight.”

  Asher looks at me and then back at my dad. “Since noon I’ve been . . . runnin’ around for this bash of yours and you—”

  “This bash is for you. It represents you. People are arriving and you’re in clown pants. Torn clown pants.”

  “Okay, I heard you. I heard you the first time. You can relax now.”

  “And you can kill the condescension while you’re at it. Got it?”

  Asher shakes his head. “Got it . . . Dad.”

  “Look at these pants he’s got on, Claire. In tatters. Are you homeless? Seventy-five people coming and—”

  “He’ll change them, Abram. He’s been cleaning and moving furniture all day.”

  “So has Gabriel. So has Dara. I don’t see their knees.”

  My brother walks past my father toward the fridge. “It’s happening, right? The fun? This is it?”

  “I’d like all of you to dress nicely tonight. It should go without saying. Nothing crinkled or . . . torn, for Christ sake.”

  Asher pops a grape in his mouth and faces my dad. “What’s on your face?” he says, squinting.

  “Freckles,” says Dara. “I helped him draw ’em on.”

  “Why freckles?”

  “Freckles for the show,” my mother says. “He plays a country bumpkin.”

  “There as big as Raisinettes. Are they moles?”

  “They’re freckles,” says Dara.

  “Freckles are tiny.”

  “Enough!” my father says, waving the list above his head. “Just stop. Listen to me. People are arriving. People are here already. It’s buckle-down time. Focus now, eyes here. Please. I’m going to list your tasks. Asher will be on lights and the projector, which means—”

  “I know what it means, Dad.”

  “Humor me will ya, please? Just clam it for ten seconds. Don’t tell me what you know . . . all right? Why would I need that?” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a black Magic Marker. “Claire. For Gabe. I almost forgot. It’s nontoxic.” He flips it to her. “Now, lights and projector.”

  “What is this stuff?” My mother pulls the cap off and smells the tip. “I’m not putting this on his face, Abram.”

  “It’s fine. I asked the guy at the store.”

  “It smells too chemical-ly.”

  “I just told you. I talked to the man who sold it to me. It can’t harm skin. Now can I continue? Do not underestimate our time constraint. Listen to me. Lights and movie projector involves the lights for the dance number and the film, so . . . due to the fact that Asher’ll be working the projector as well, I need Megan . . . where the hell’s Megan?”

  d. and then I guess I gyrated a little and—

  e. What do you mean you gyrated?

  f. Maybe that’s the wrong word.

  g. Did you thrust into her?

  h. Not into her.

  i. Against her? Did you press your boner against her over and over?

  j. Yeah.

  k. Well, there ya go.

  l. Right. I feel so stupid.

  m. Ya should.

  n. Pressed it against her too much, huh?

  “She’s in her room,” Dara says.

  “Go get her, please.”

  Dara runs out the door.

  “I told her five thirty, did I not say five thirty?” He checks his watch but he’s not wearing it. “She, Megan, will turn the lights down when the film starts. Asher, you just handle the lights for the performance. Now, quickly, do you have the colored filters I gave you?”

  “I have them,” Asher says. “For two days now.”

  “Okay,” he says, reading the list. “Jacob, you will usher people in and make sure they have a place to sit. Now . . . we’re limited, so, we’ll be using the lawn furniture. Have you cleaned it off yet?”

  “Me?” I say.

  “No, the wall. Yes, you. I told you to do it yesterday.”

  “You told Dara to do it.”

  “Did she do it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Find out. Next. Claire,” he says, lifting the list. “You’re on coffee, popcorn, and food in general. Fine. That’s . . . all great and needed. But I want to emphasize how much I need you . . . out there, with me, to show your face and to mingle and greet and . . . play hostess like you’re so very capable of doing. Right? They’re your friends too so . . . I’ll thank you for helping me with your . . . with your presence.”

  She seems to freeze at the sink, her back to us. She slowly lifts her head from the chore.

  “Tell me you’ll be out there.”

  “Of course I’ll be out there,” she says without turning. “Where else would I be?”

  He lifts the list but lowers it again. “They’re here to see you. To share this time with you so—”

  “They’re here, Abram because you invited them.”

  Megan and Dara walk in the room. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how late it got,” Megan says.

  She’s wearing the sweatpants and a Moraga College T-shirt with a cougar on the front. When she looks at me I drop my eyes to a patch of bubbled linoleum under the stove.

  “How dressed up are we getting?” she says.

  Hi, Meg. Sorry. I’d take it back. It snuck up on me when I was doing that thrusting thing. It wasn’t on purpose. I’ve only seen the stuff once before and it didn’t come out of me. It was on the chin of a Chinese girl in one of Asher’s magazines. She was winking at the guy who did it and I wondered if it smelled like glue.

  “A nurse with a punctuality problem,” my father says.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “I know, I heard.”

  Megan stops and faces him. “Good,” she says. “Then I won’t say it again.”

  Silence. He tracks her as she walks farther in the room. She leans against the stove with her elbows. “So . . . are we all wearin’ Dukes of Hazzard?”

  Asher laughs. “Just a good ol’ boy.”

  “What’s that mean?” my father says. “Dukes of Hazzard?”

  “She’s kiddin’ you,” Asher says. “It’s a TV show.”

  “Huck Finn with a beard,” she says. “Howdy, Rabbi Finn.”

  “What’s that? That’s not funny,” says my dad. “Rabbi Finn? Is that funny?”


  “Oh, come on,” she says. “Look how tense you are. It’s a party. Have some fun.”

  “What does that mean?” he says, looking at Asher. “Rabbi Finn, what is that? Is it anti-Semitism? I’m lost.”

  “No, Dad,” he says. “Joking, she’s joking.”

  “She’s kidding you,” my mother says, shutting off the sink. “My God. Meg’s right. This is supposed to be about fun. Entertainment, right?”

  “Making fun of someone is fun?”

  “I’m not making fun of you,” Megan says, her face flushed, a little stunned. “You’re wearing overalls and there’s eyeliner on your face. It’s a little funny. Anti-Semitism? Really?”

  “Okay,” he says, his jaw churning. “Terrific.” He plops down in one of the kitchen chairs and slams his list on the table. “You run it. Take control. Thank God you’re here. She’s here everyone! Watch. Watch how much gets done.”

  “I heard you,” Megan says. “Go ahead.”

  “So I can continue? You’re done?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can do that? Save the routine? For when I’m asleep or dead.”

  “Abram,” my mother says. “Please.”

  Gabe walks in the room wearing the tiniest tuxedo I’ve ever seen. “Mommy?”

  “Hi, baby.”

  “I don’t like this costume,” he says, tugging at the bow tie.

  “You look fantastic,” my mom says. “So handsome.”

  My father lifts the Magic Marker from the table and hands it to Asher. “Will you please draw some Woody Allen glasses on Gabriel? Your mother’s afraid it’ll sizzle his skin off. It’s a marker. Tell her.”

  Asher begins to read the warning on the side.

  “Do not draw on his face with that thing,” my mom says. “The tux is cute enough.”

  “I specifically asked the man at the store and he said it wouldn’t harm him.”

  “You think yelling at me is gonna change my mind, Abe?”

  “Who’s yelling? I’m telling you.”

  The front door slams closed. We all hear a woman sing, “Helllooo, Greeeeeeeens. It’s Wendy and Laaaarrrrryyyy.”

  “Hi, Wend,” my father yells out the kitchen door. “We’ll be out in a jiffy, just give us a sec.” He shuts the door. “You know something?” he says, nodding and facing my mother. “You’d never believe this, but I’m doing this—all of this—because I love you. Do you hear that? Do you buy that?”

  “Do I buy it, Abe?”

  “Allow me to love you. All of you. Allow me to love you and to do this my way and you’ll see what it can be. This is for you. For your pleasure.”

  “Abram.”

  “Say nothing! Can you do that, Claire? Can you just stop? Why is there resistance through every inch of this? Why? It’s like . . . trudging through a swamp with bickerers on my back. None of you know what it takes to pull off a flawless show. It’s not fluff. Freckles and makeup and time and discipline and attention and passion. Laugh if you want, go ahead. You’re so funny, all of you, you really are.”

  Megan starts rubbing her forehead.

  “People who care about us are pulling out of their driveways, right now, to come and be in our home. To be with you. And look at you.”

  We all just stand there and wait for him to lift his list. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. “Now, Megan.”

  “Yes?”

  “You will shut the lights off in the living room when I point at you . . . just seconds after Gabe does the intro to the film. So again, the order. One, the cast performance of “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” Two, I’ll do a very quick introduction of the family. Three—”

  “Time out,” Asher says. “I said earlier, days ago, that I don’t want that . . . this time. To be introduced.”

  Everyone looks over at him.

  “I just—”

  “Why are you interrupting me? Why? I always introduce the family.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. You don’t think Shel Friedman knows that I skateboard and Dara swims and J reads good Hebrew? You said yourself you had a time constraint. Everyone coming to this thing knows us. Am I wrong, Ma?”

  “I . . . see what you mean,” she says. “To save time, Abram.”

  My father slowly puts the list in the chest pocket of his overalls and walks to the sink. He folds his arms and looks out the window with a tilt of his head, as if searching for clouds. “Three,” he says calmly. “Gabriel introduces the film. Four, viewing. Five, dessert and coffee. Six, discussion of film. Gabriel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you ready to try it for Daddy?”

  “Noooo,” he says, pulling on his bow tie.

  My father turns around. “Don’t do that, Gabriel. Don’t pull on that. Daddy tied that for you and I don’t want it loosened. I want to hear your introduction, the one we practiced yesterday. Are you ready to show Daddy?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  My father drops to his knees and takes him by the shoulders. “You’re going to give the introduction to Annie Hall. We practiced for two hours yesterday and tonight you’re going to make everyone very, very happy when you go out there and say what I told you to say. It’s very cute. You’re very cute.”

  “I don’t like this costume, Daddyyyy.”

  “The costume is fine. Everything is fine. The people coming today love you . . . and they’re going to love you more in about an hour. So, tell me you’re ready to show me that you know your lines. You’re a big boy today and I don’t want to hear that you don’t want to.”

  “But I don’t want to,” he says, and his bottom lip protrudes.

  My father stands from his crouch with his eyes closed. “Damn it!”

  “Abram,” my mother says, walking toward Gabe. “Don’t. Don’t make yourself nuts over this. Just do the introduction yourself.”

  “He knew every inch of it, Claire. He’s doing it tonight, right out there. He is. Someone draw those glasses on his face and do not discourage him. I mean it,” he says, his finger raised. “Gabriel, in five minutes I want to hear that intro. You did wonderfully last night and I want it again. So you be ready for Daddy.”

  Asher shakes his head and starts to leave the room. “Where are you going?” my father says.

  “To change my clown pants, remember?”

  “Is that sarcasm? Is it? ’Cause you can keep it if it is.”

  Asher stops at the door and turns to my father. “Why do you even . . . have . . . these parties?”

  “And this is my son, Asher,” my dad says. “He’s into sarcasm and disgusting pants and doesn’t like to be introduced.”

  “Do you need me anymore?” Megan says, glowering, her elbows on the stove.

  “Do you know your role?” my father asks her.

  “You point at me and I turn the lights off. I got it.”

  “More sarcasm,” he says to my mother. “Go. Go away. Go do whatever you do up there. Have fun.”

  Megan points her tongue at the back of my dad’s head as she and Asher leave the room. My father lifts the list to his face. “Lawn furniture. Did you clean it off, Dara, like I asked you to?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With what?”

  “A towel.”

  “Good girl. Now drag it all to the back steps and Asher’ll help you bring it in.”

  “But it’s heavy.”

  “Anybody home?” someone says from the front hall. “Abram? Claire?”

  My father runs to the door and opens it. “Out in a sec!” he barks, and slams it.

  “Abram,” my mother whispers. “What are you doing?”

  “Just . . . quiet,” he says. “Can I have quiet? Dara, go see who that is and bring their coats upstairs. If they’re in the show, point them to the wardrobe rack in my room. Go, go, go.”

  She runs out. He looks down at his list.

  “Is the coffee made?” he says. “Is there tea? Is there ice?”

  “Yes,” my mot
her says, opening the fridge. “I have it handled.”

  “Jacob, go drag the lawn furniture to the back steps and I’ll help you from there.”

  “Even the—?”

  “All of it. Make sure it’s clean. Bring a towel.”

  Asher pokes his head in the room. “Someone’s parkin’ their Benz on the Sinkovitz’s lawn.”

  “Stop them!” my father says. “Tell them to park in the driveway. What’s wrong with people? Ten bucks it’s Saul Dardik. Putz!”

  “I’ll try,” Asher says, and walks back out.

  “I’ll talk to Saul,” my mother says, and she leaves right behind him.

  My father turns to me and glares. He is tortured with rosy cheeks of red. Gabe lets out a long yawn and tugs at his bow tie. My father’s still staring at me. I crack my mouth into a smile.

  “Lawn furniture, lawn furniture, lawn furniture.” I start to walk toward the door. “Lawn furniture, lawn furniture. Wait! Take that marker and draw glasses on Gabriel. Do it quickly, please.”

  “I can’t draw glasses, Dad.”

  “Woody Allen glasses.”

  “What?”

  “Black glasses. Clark goddamn Kent.”

  “My cast,” I say lifting it. “I can’t even hold a pen.”

  “Gabriel, come over here,” he says, and pulls the cap off the marker.

  Gabe steps closer to him and my father kneels on the kitchen floor. “I’m going to start the introduction that we practiced yesterday and when I stop I want you to take over, okay?”