Suder

by Percival Everett

  Ma leaned forward, putting her arms on the table. “What is love?” she asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  She shrugged her shoulders, too, and laughed loudly. She kept on shrugging her shoulders and laughing. She didn’t notice when I got up and walked out.

  Birds have got really flexible necks. A bird can touch any part of his body with his beak, and so I’m doing neck exercises. I’m touching my nose to my knees and I’m pulling my feet to my face and I’m rubbing my nose on my shoulder, but it’s clear that there are spots I will never touch. Perhaps with a lot of exercise I will be able to touch my nose to my pecker. That’s my goal.

  Birds have got really high body temperatures. The only way I can figure to raise my temperature is by running a fever. So, I’m trying to catch a cold. The nights are chilly, so I try sleeping naked without a fire and with the wall down. Jincy’s all bundled up in blankets. It doesn’t work. All I get is a sore back.

  “The water ain’t cold enough,” Jincy says.

  I’m in the lake, Ezra Pond, splashing around early in the morning. “It’s cold,” I tell her and I duck down under the water and come back up.

  “Not cold enough.” She’s at the edge, shaking her hand in the water. “You can’t catch a cold in this. Go out some more.”

  I swim on out a ways and the water is a little cooler. Renoir leaves Jincy’s side and steps into the lake and he takes to rolling over and shooting water out of his nose.

  “Look!” Jincy is pointing up.

  I look up in time to see the osprey pulling his wings in to dive and he’s diving at me. I figure he thinks I’m an extraordinary catch and I duck down under the water. He hits the water and heads up and I make my way quickly out of the water. We’re walking back to the cabin.

  “I don’t think it worked,” Jincy says. She’s behind me.

  I’m naked, cold, and wet. “Give it a chance,” I says. “A cold wouldn’t show up right away.”

  “Shake that salty bacon.” She’s looking at my bare butt.

  I stop. “Go on.”

  “What?”

  “Walk in front of me.”

  “Gosh,” she says and walks on. “I like looking at it.”

  As we’re walking I begin to think about wings. I’ll need wings to fly, but what to make them out of and how? I decide to collect feathers, and it’s unfortunate, but feathers only come from birds. So, when we’re back at the cabin I sit down at the table and start sketching my wings. Jincy’s on the other side of the cabin giving Renoir his morning bath.

  “Are you hungry?” Jincy asks, dipping the rag into the bucket of soapy water.

  “I’ll get some wood,” I says and get up. I slip into my trousers and step outside. My arms are full of wood and I’m standing up and I feel something poking me in the back. I look over my shoulder and it’s Sid Willis.

  “Hello, Craig,” Sid says.

  I don’t say anything.

  “I want my money.” He pushes the barrel of the pistol into my back. “In the house.”

  I open the door and step in and Sid is behind me and when he sees the elephant he stops dead in his tracks. Jincy stands up and takes a couple of steps back. I drop the wood and Sid doesn’t move. Sid’s eyes are locked on Renoir and he doesn’t notice me as I take the gun from him.

  “Who is he?” Jincy asks once I’ve got the gun.

  “He’s crazy,” I tell her. “He wants to kill me.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Tie him up.” I grab a length of rope and tie his hands behind his back. I walk Sid over to a chair near the stove and sit him down and his eyes are still locked on Renoir.

  “Now what?” Jincy asks.

  “I don’t know.” I look at her. “I don’t know.” I’m tying Sid to the chair. “We just keep him tied up.”

  Sid is still looking at Renoir. Then he snaps to and finds himself tied up and struggles with the ropes. “What is this?” He tries to stand up and the chair comes with him. “What’s that?” He points at Renoir with his head.

  “That’s an elephant,” I says.

  “Why?”

  I’m puzzled and I’m looking at Renoir. “‘Cause he ain’t a dog.”

  “Untie me.” Sid sees Jincy. “Who’s she?”

  “This is Jincy.”

  “Untie me.”

  “I can’t do that, Sid.”

  “I just want my money.”

  “I’m sorry,” I says and I’m putting wood into the stove. “I don’t trust you. If I untie you, you’ll shoot me.”

  “I swear to God I won’t,” he says. “I just want my money.” He looks at the elephant again. “Just what are you doing with this thing?”

  I turn to Jincy. “You want to fix up some breakfast?”

  “Okay.” She starts picking the wood off the floor. “Really, we’re just going to leave him tied up?”

  I nod. “Fix some breakfast for him, too.”

  Jincy cooks breakfast. Eggs and bacon.

  “I don’t want it,” Sid says, turning his face from the forkful of eggs that Jincy is holding.

  “He won’t eat,” Jincy complains. “What’s wrong with it?” she asks Sid.

  Sid’s eyes catch hers and her eyes are watering up and Sid gets real gentle. “It’s not the food, honey. I just can’t eat when I’m tied up like this.”

  “Tough.” Jincy takes the plate away.

  I’m putting on my shoes and Jincy is staring at me. “I’m going into town.”

  “What about him?” She points at Sid.

  “He’s tied up.”

  She doesn’t say anything. She just starts doing the dishes. I put on my jacket and leave.

  Chapter 22

  So, I’m in this tavern in Parkdale and I’m sitting at the bar having a beer. I’m thinking about things in general and it all strikes me funny. Here I am, a black ballplayer in the mountains of Oregon with an elephant, a smart-ass nine-year-old white girl, and a black Indian tied up in my dead manager’s cabin. And to top it all off, I’m planning to fly off a mountain. I laugh out loud.

  “What’s so funny?” asks the barman.

  I just shake my head and look down the bar and there’s a woman with a bulbous nose and she’s got a little bit of something on her upper lip. She wipes it away with her napkin and sniffs and I see this as my chance to catch a cold.

  I ask the barman to give the woman down the way a beer and he gives her a wink and gives her the beer. The woman looks over at me and smiles and this is one ugly white woman. But I ain’t interested in her, I’m interested in her cold. I slide along the bar and I says to her, “I want to kiss you on the lips.” Well, she gets madder than a wet hen and rears back like she’s going to hit me and I says, “Wait, let me explain.” She calms down a little and I swallow. “I want to kiss you because you’ve got a runny nose.” And pop! she smacks me one across the face and I go back to the other end of the bar, holding my face.

  “No luck, huh?” The barman chuckles.

  “Let me have another beer,” I says and I look at the woman again. If it wasn’t for the snot on her lip she’d have no appeal at all. I down a number of beers and I guess I ain’t the only one who finds the woman unattractive because she’s still alone. I’m a little drunk and I’m looking at that wet spot glistening under her bulbous nose and I walk over. And what I do is grab her and plant a big wet kiss on her mouth.

  She lets out a scream and takes a swing and misses.

  “What’s the problem here?” asks the barman.

  “He kissed me,” the woman says.

  “Congratulations, Marsha,” the barman says, laughing as he turns to me. “You didn’t really kiss her, did you?”

  “Naw.”

  He laughs louder and the woman yells, “Eat shit, Jerry!” And she walks out.

  I have one more beer and I leave. Outside, waiting for me, is the ugly woman with the nose. She smiles at me. “I liked it when you kissed me,” she says. “I’m Marsha.”
>
  I want nothing to do with this woman and I’m trying to walk away. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  She’s following me. “You’re new around here.”

  I’m getting into my truck.

  “Oh, what a big truck,” says Marsha. “It’s a beautiful night.” She’s looking at me through the open window. “A nice night for a drive.”

  I start up the truck. “I’m sorry.”

  “I love it when you play hard to get.”

  I’m driving away.

  When I get back to the cabin I find Jincy waiting up for me. She smells the beer on my breath and sees that I’m a little drunk and she takes a step back.

  “You’re drunk,” she says.

  “Yep.” I smile at her.

  She starts to cry.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I look over at Sid. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “My daddy used to get that way and then he’d beat me.” She runs to her bed and buries her face in her pillow.

  Sid looks at me and shakes his head. “You.”

  “Me?” I pull a chair over and sit in front of Sid.

  “So, you’re drunk.”

  “Yep. Drunk, d-r-u-n-c-h, drunk.” I rub my eyes. “Sixteen—count ’em—sixteen beers and a kiss from ugly Marsha.”

  Sid smiles. “Why don’t you untie me, boy?”

  “I’m drunk, not stupid.”

  “Tell me about the elephant.”

  “A bet, won him in a bet.” I pause and focus on Sid. “You should have seen ugly Marsha. She had a nose the size of a grapefruit.”

  “Why’d you kiss her?” asked Jincy.

  “‘Cause she had a runny nose.”

  She raises her eyebrows.

  “I kissed her so I could catch a cold.” Jincy is frowning now. “You know I need a fever.”

  “I’ll show you how to catch a cold,” says Sid.

  “How?”

  “Untie me and I’ll show you.”

  “I’m not stupid. You stay tied.”

  “You kissed her,” Jincy says.

  “Is there hair on it?” Naomi asked. We were sitting on an old bench in my garage.

  “What?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “Is there hair? Down there.” She pointed at my crotch.

  I swallowed and tossed back my head. Rain was striking the roof. “Some.”

  “Some?” Naomi laughed. Then she leaned over and kissed me. She pushed her tongue deep into my mouth, then rubbed it over my teeth. I closed my eyes and touched her tongue with mine. This really got to her and she hugged me and kissed me harder. Then she undid my trousers. I pulled away for a second, but she pulled me back. Now my tongue was in her mouth and she started sucking it and my eyes opened. I was perspiring heavily. I looked at her lowered lids; she looked so peaceful. Her hand slipped into my shorts and her fingers played with my penis. She squeezed it and let it fall through her fingers. Then she cupped my testicles and she giggled into my mouth. She removed her hand, grabbed my hand, and put it under her dress. My hand remained there motionless and then she pushed my elbow so that my hand touched her underwear. It was warm and damp there. She pushed my elbow again and I started groping at her panties. She put her hand back into my shorts. My fingers squeezed past her underwear and I felt the wet fold of flesh.

  “What’s going on here?!” screamed Ma, sliding under the garage door.

  Naomi gasped, pushed my hand off, and ran away. I fastened up my trousers with quick, shaking hands.

  “What are you doing?!”

  I had no answer for her.

  Ma ran to me and stared into my eyes. I stood up. She slapped me. It really stung. Then she hit me again. “Why? Why did you kiss her?”

  “She kissed me,” I said.

  “Same thing!” She stomped. “I don’t believe you. I’ve got the milk you need. I’m your mother.” She began to pace. The rain stopped and there was no sound. “Don’t kiss her anymore.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Kiss me,” she said and she grabbed my head. She put her lips against mine and tried to force her tongue between my teeth.

  I pulled away and fell backwards over the bench. I was on my feet quickly and running for the door. I slid under the door onto the wet gravel outside. I ran to the pond and stretched on the wet grass. I cried.

  The next morning I’m just dripping and sniffing like crazy and I’m just thrilled and Jincy is feeling my head for a fever.

  “Seems normal to me,” she says.

  “You’re crazy,” I says, moving her hand and putting my knuckles against my cheek. “I’m burning up.”

  Then there’s a knock at the door and Jincy looks at me with scared eyes. I walk to the window and look out, but I don’t see a car. I open the door a crack and it’s Richard Beckwith. I let him in.

  “I came by to see your Loxodonta africana again,” Beckwith says as he enters. He stops when he sees Sid and he turns to me.

  “A guest,” I tell him.

  “Why is he tied up?”

  “He wants to kill me.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s crazy,” I tell him.

  Beckwith looks around and sees Jincy. “Everyone in town is looking for you.”

  “You didn’t tell anybody where I am, did you?” Jincy asks.

  Beckwith shakes his head and then he looks at Renoir. “Damn,” he says, “that’s one fine specimen.” He pauses. “Are you going to tell me where you got him?”

  “Won him in a bet.”

  Beckwith just looks at me. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

  “I told you.”

  “Okay, okay. So, what are you going to do with him?” He’s pointing at Sid.

  “Keep him tied up.”

  “I can call the sheriff from my place.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Beckwith looks at Renoir and Jincy and then nods. “I understand.” He looks at Renoir again. “Beautiful.”

  “Do me a favor,” I says. “Put your hand up here on my face and tell me if I’ve got a fever.”

  He puts his hand on my forehead and shakes his head. “Seems normal.”

  I pull away from him. “Jesus, you’re as bad as she is.” I’m pointing at Jincy. “I’m burning up.”

  “Untie me so I can see,” says Sid. “Let me touch your face.”

  “I don’t think so,” I says.

  Beckwith leaves and Jincy is staring at me.

  “What is it?” I ask her.

  “Just who did you kiss?”

  “Just some woman.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she had a cold.” I sniff. “And now I’ve got it.”

  “And what about him?” She’s pointing at Sid.

  “What about him?”

  “He says you stole his money.” She pulls out the briefcase and opens it. “This money.”

  Sid gasps.

  “I didn’t steal it, I ended up with it,” I tell her. “He was trying to kill me.”

  Jincy’s eyes are wet. “Why’d you kiss her?”

  “I needed her cold.” I turn and walk out. “Jesus,” I mutter as I slam the door and I walk off toward the lake. I don’t know how to read Jincy’s behavior. It seems like she’s jealous and I figure it’s natural, but it’s more complicated—like she thinks I’m her boyfriend.

  I sat by the pond for a long time, watching the ducks and tossing stones into the water and thinking. Ma had me scared to death and I didn’t know what to think about Naomi. She had caused some unfamiliar feelings to stir within me. When dark came I headed home. My eyes scanned the ground. Martin had left off shooting sparrows, so there were none.

  As I approached the house I saw Bud. He was in the backyard. I watched him as he untied Django. The dog went running off.

  “Why’d you do that?” I asked, running to Bud.

  He was startled. “Oh, Bird,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I just couldn’t stand to see him ti
ed up.”

  “But Mr. Simpson—”

  “That’s called a chance,” Bud said and started back toward the house. I walked with him. “If Mr. Simpson shoots him, then he shoots him. At least the dog is free to get shot.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said. “The dog doesn’t know anything.”

  Bud stopped at the door and turned to me. “Nothing’s fair and nobody knows anything. That’s just the way it is.” He looked at my puzzled expression. “You don’t understand. Don’t worry, what I’m saying doesn’t make any sense.”

  Then a rifle shot rang out. “It’s your fault!” I cried and hit him in the stomach.

  He stared at me without expression. Then he stepped into the house.

  Bud was gone when I woke up the next morning. I sat in the living room and recalled his playing.

  Chapter 23

  Sid’s been tied up for some days now and he’s complaining that his circulation has stopped, even though I’ve let him up to walk around the cabin a few times. He’s also complaining about the fact that he’s only had eggs and bacon to eat.

  “Eggs and bacon, bacon and eggs.” Sid turns his cheek to the loaded fork.

  “Eat it,” Jincy says, poking Sid’s face with the fork.

  “Hey!” Sid yells. “How’d you like me to poke you in the face?”

  “Eat!”

  “I’m sick of eggs and bacon.”

  “Eat!”

  I’m sitting at the table, doing my neck exercises and looking at my wing plans. I need some plastic tubing and strong thin plastic, like garbage bags. I get up and grab my hat.

  “Where are you going?” Jincy asks.

  “To town. You need anything?”

  “Food,” Sid says.

  “What are you going to town for?”

  “Materials,” I answer. “For my wings.” I look at Jincy’s silent face for a second and then I leave.

  So, I’m in town and I’m looking across the counter in the general store at the fella with the buck teeth and the enormous forehead. On the counter I’ve got plastic tubing and about a dozen boxes of trash bags of assorted kinds.

  “What do you need all these trash bags for?” asks the clerk.

  I think at first it’s none of his business, but I says, “You expect me to fly without wings?”