by Ed Taylor
Yeah, I know, I been working hard today. We’re going to get some lunch now – you need fattening up.
The lady in the white dress and her red sneakers are upside down, and next to her a man in what looks like a black dress, or a robe, Theo can’t tell, thumping along, and the man in the black robe is holding a big orange ball and he’s putting it up under the robe or because he’s upside down he’s dropping it down into the robe, which is like a bag with his head at the bottom and it makes his stomach big and round like the lady and there’s the photographer hanging by his feet taking pictures of them hanging by their feet, and them kissing, Theo thinks, at least their heads are together, and the man’s hair is long and the woman’s is very short because she’s taken off her veil. And her red shoes, and the photographer’s wearing blue overalls with one red shoe and one blue shoe and a red sock with the blue shoe and a blue sock with the red shoe, and Theo’s just hanging and watching but Mingus is grunting about him being heavy. They all are skulls. Where is his dad.
Mingus slips Theo off his shoulder and again Theo’s stomach flips, then Mingus is lifting him straight and over his head and setting his legs like a wishbone around Mingus’ neck. And the pregnant lady and the man with the basketball and the man in the army uniform are all swapping clothes while the photographer takes pictures, the lady’s big stomach in the sun and her big breasts. Theo sees nipples like eyes looking at him, so big and round. He pokes Mingus in the back of the head and he’s burning up all of a sudden, so embarrassed.
Hey, monkey, Mingus snorts. He turns so they’re facing the ocean and away from the people and then lifts Theo off his shoulders and sets him down.
Whyn’t you go play a little before lunch. Somewhere there ain’t women.
Theo’s so embarassed. Should he say sorry or thanks, or just nothing. Why didn’t it happen to adults. And he wanted to look, not not look. But.
Natural as water flowing, man, nothing to sweat. It’s the body just letting you know you’re alive. It’ll calm down.
Theo doesn’t know where to look or not look, and the birds whirling, and he just doesn’t want to be confused anymore, he feels always like he’s swimming and he doesn’t know if that’s an island or a whale or a sea monster and if when he’s standing on it he’ll be safe or bucked off and swimming for his life. But he’s a pirate. Frieda keeps saying that anyway.
Theo’s bouncing, looking back now at the house: the man and lady and photographer and the army man – the lady’s wearing the uniform with the coat opened, her stomach sticking out like a white dome, one man in the dress, one man in the tuxedo, all barefoot, the men looking alike, Theo can’t tell. The photographer lying on the ground taking pictures of them; now rolling over so he’s upside down taking pictures.
At the side of the lawn Colin on someone’s shoulders is wrestling with a lady on another man’s shoulders, then they break apart, tottering and screaming and laughing, then the carrying men move apart and somebody counts and then they run at each other and thump, Colin and the lady.
That’s not fair that you won’t tell me your name, Theo says.
Mingus flips a stick: Sorry, man, I gotta know you better.
How much better. You come here a lot.
Look, there are a lot of people who would like that information, so they could control me. And if you said it to somebody, and they said it to somebody and it got out on the web, and that web’s vibrating, then some spider’s going to pick that up. And I don’t want that to happen. I got about eight thousand strikes against me as a black man already, I have to hold on to what little I got left to me after I been scraped and peeled.
Theo peers up at Mingus, flipping, plastic eyes shining and black in the light, beads of sun on his face.
Adrian’s outside again now, walking toward Colin on the ground, with the president in the suit from last night who now has shorts and a shirt with flowers all over it. He has a glass in his hand. He’s the only person in shoes. His dad has a pair of white pants on, almost falling off; they hang way down, and the suit man has an arm around his waist. Theo wonders where the naked lady is. His dad frowns, whistles: Colin.
Colin on the ground yells, yeah.
Quick meet. Roger’s on his way.
Theo sees, as he and Mingus walk, heads on people everywhere turn toward his dad like deer hearing a stick crack.
Adrian notices the ripple of attention, shakes his head, laughs harshly, like he doesn’t think it’s funny: Bloody hell. Let the games begin.
When Roger comes it’s always a big deal. Theo likes Roger, but his dad gets crazy when Roger’s around. There are different kinds of famous. Theo’s dad is one kind, and Roger’s another bigger kind.
Of all the people around Theo’s dad, Roger’s the hardest one to figure out. Theo can never tell if he’s joking or not, or if he’s mad or not, or if he’s mean or not, or if he’s nice or not. It does seem to Theo that Roger is laughing at everyone, all the time, in his mind, like an alien observing Earth. He even looks like it: Roger has really big eyes but they remind Theo of a snake or a lizard, because he blinks really slowly and stares all the time, and they’re bright green, really light, and it’s almost like you could look into them and see what’s in his head, but instead it’s the opposite.
Roger and his dad fought a lot the last times they were together. They make the songs for the band and so they have to work together but lately Theo knows they’ve been doing it all by mail. His dad sends tapes and Roger sends tapes back.
The last time Roger came, in Jamaica, he brought Theo a bird, a green cockatiel with red cheeks. Theo named it Mo, because it looked like it had a mohawk. But you can’t keep it in a cage, Roger told him.
But you brought it in a cage.
Only because I had to get it here – now, it’s free.
Theo worried about the bird, watching its wings whir and hearing it shriek around the house over the heads of guests. Theo followed it around, until it came to one of the open windows – all the windows and doors were open – and was gone. He ran outside into the garden; do cockatiels know how to live in Jamaica. It was dark, but moon and stars spotted the sky and the trees rustled with other birds. Maybe it found some friends; maybe they’ll show it how to find food. Maybe it was really a gift for the other birds. But why did Roger bother to say it was for Theo. He stood outside listening, to the birds and the people, and wanted to lift the house and let the people out.
Theo went back in to tell Roger about Mo but Christina said Roger was outside with a reporter. Theo walked out the front, past the big jacarandas waving in the dark, and saw two people in a jeep. He walked toward them, and saw the two shadows blur together. Theo stood for a second.
Roger, Mo flew away.
The lady and Roger pulled apart, and Roger’s voice came at him.
That’s a happy ending.
Is that why you gave him to me. So he would fly away.
I gave him to you because I like you. I give presents to people I like.
Theo knew Roger was staring at him in the dark, he could feel it. Then a little orange coal moved in a curve up and brightened, and Theo saw Roger’s face, squinting at him. Theo heard a sigh, and maybe a whisper. He turned and walked back toward the house, the bricks warm under his feet and the air thick and sweet from the cigarette smoke in the house carried out by the breeze. Theo breathed deeply.
Theo now leaves Mingus, a shadow on grass – if Theo were a minnow he’d be hiding somewhere away from the big fish.
He runs over the hot green bristles of grass. Music booms from inside the house – what doesn’t Theo know about everything, why is there so much. He’s tired of being a kid.
He’s shooting past the people on the terrace talking, from bright into dark, the ballroom floor gritty and people sprawling everywhere with plates and the air rich with food smell. Theo is hungry again: where are the dogs. They like people and food. He wants to show his dad the butterflies. Where’s Gus. There’s someone taking pictures. There
’s always someone taking pictures. Theo makes a face and runs into the kitchen. People stand around, and Leslie is behind the table with a spoon putting food onto plates. A vase of flowers sits on either end of the line of warming things. She brought flowers. She’s now wearing a white jacket and her pink hair is candy. She’s smiling. Theo wonders what his mom is doing.
Bloody leaches and parasites, Theo hears Adrian’s voice. Roger’s something you can feel in the air, something coming. At least to his dad, but Theo feels something too, everyone a little louder. Maybe it’s just because they’re inside and sound’s got nowhere to go. Where are the dogs.
Theo winds through people, squinting in a stab of sunlight through the stained glass at the side of the kitchen, people occasionally rubbing his head or pinching as he passes. He ducks.
Dad, you want to see my butterflies.
Adrian’s got an arm around a man and a lady, one on either side, and the bald man who’s the record president holds a plate and feeds forkfuls into Adrian’s mouth.
Is your head okay. Why is he feeding you.
Because he can, Adrian says. And I’m busy holding these people up. They’re both train wrecks and they’d lay waste the crockery.
The man looked familiar from TV or a magazine. The lady reached out to push the bald man’s glasses back up his nose.
We need to nail this down, the bald man says.
Yeah, yeah. I know, Adrian sniffs and looks around, chewing.
Dad, I can’t find the dogs.
They’re okay, mate. They’re the only ones with enough sense to escape this asylum. They’re probably outside somewhere.
No they’re not. They’re not anywhere.
They’ll turn up, pal.
How is my mother.
What, Theo. Adrian’s actually looking at him now, he sees his father focusing.
How is my mother. Theo wants his dad to listen and thinks he’ll hear this.
She’s fine, mate, she’s okay. They’re taking good care of her.
Can I see her.
Sure you can see her, we’ll figure out a time and go, eh.
What’s wrong with her.
She’s just sick.
Will she get better.
Adrian lets go of the two people and bends over and steadies himself and kisses Theo on the forehead and puts his hand on the side of Theo’s face, the hand hot. He feels the callouses on Adrian’s fingers as Adrian tucks Theo’s hair behind his ear.
I love you mate, and she does too, and we’re all going to be fine. She just needs some rest, mostly and some medicine, a little fucking peace and quiet.
Adrian usually doesn’t say that word when he talks to Theo. Therapy medicine or medicine medicine, Theo wonders.
Do you want to see the butterflies.
I promise, mate, soon as we get things Bristol fashion here, I want to see butterflies. You find me wherever I am and we’ll go see them.
Is your head okay: does it hurt. Theo’s looking up at him.
No more than usual: Adrian straightens again, smiling down in his goofy way, and tilts his head back and laughs. Ah, it is great to be alive, isn’t it.
First. The bald man is raising his eyebrows at Adrian, the plate elsewhere now.
Yeah, yeah. Let’s go find the phone.
Adrian lets go of the man and the lady: You’re on your own. Adrian takes their hands and puts them together: I now pronounce you. Then he walks down the back hall with the bald man.
The man and lady wander toward food, not looking at Theo, who doesn’t know where to go, in trees again, unnoticed. Until someone notices him and looms up at him or swoops down on him, to rub or pat or poke or ask a weird question breathing on him. Or try to tickle. Where’s Mingus. Where’s Colin. Where’s Gus. It’s crowded and loud. Music kicks up from a tape player in the ballroom: old-time music Theo knows is jazz, with a clarinet. Who put that on. Colin’s in the ballroom yelling now, in from outside: I want a cup of tea.
All the voices: You just have to tighten up and get through it Some parts of it are okay Anything you like Okay so there’s police Don’t want to have none of this down below zero any more and then there are their bosses And there’s juice And if there’s a rule But not always I love the ocean man I have a bra but I forgot to put my glasses on A lot better since I got out of the joint Terrible eyes one four five progression two tone suede and she put it in her mouth Got anymore Say what Let’s go take a taste and you can tell me that again Pretend he’s dead and you’ve never left I just need a thousand to finish this I need ketchup Tell you what I’m flying there’s only two ways to leave And she gives it one of these –
Theo’s trapped, the kitchen crowded, a tide of people, finishing first platefuls and back for more, more people because of Roger. He doesn’t know how many are in his house now, and it feels weird to call it his house because he can’t even see anything familiar, everything covered with bodies and where are the dogs.
He hopes they’re just shy – and someone saying police. What about police.
Theo pushes through and out the back end of the kitchen and past the pantry and down the hall, the welter of sound following him down the narrow channel of the hall like water in a tight chute.
Gus’s at the front door in a towel, like a sheet-draped chair, so wide and stable, bottom heavy, with legs sticking out and long feet on the ends. Two ladies and a man Theo hasn’t seen before are behind Gus, the ladies and man in bathing suits, the ladies both wearing cowboy hats, just standing and scratching themselves and staring at the men in suits at the door. Immigration, Theo hears. Documents. Status, confirming, probation. Who do they want. Visa. Resident. Do they want him. His stomach. Who’s in trouble.
Theo thinks of school, of desks in rows, kids with heads bent over paper, the teacher at a desk, bent but looking up every now and then. The weather board with sun and numbers on it. A girl scratching her leg without looking. Windows tilted inward, and outside, steady low hum of traffic, birds.
Theo walks up to Gus and stands a little behind him and touches his arm. Gus looks down to locate what touched him – Theo thinks of the horse and how automatically it twitches, without thinking – and, focusing, notices Theo, then winks one eye at him but he’s not smiling, and swivels back to the men in the door; who are sweating. Gus’s mustache is wet, and he’s smoking his pipe. Theo looks through the men at the light brown gravel circle and the big horseshoe arms of the long straight driveway, and the cars, the black car they must have come in, and the mobile recording truck, its main cable up the steps and off through the hall somewhere to the right, the other side of the house. And a new one, a long red vein. Where does it go: Theo decides to follow it, the black cable snake. Maybe it’s got the dogs and they need help. He weaves off, leaving the voices.
He follows the snake into the hall, dark, then there is stained glass, an angel, and the seraglio, full of cushions, near the Christmas tree room, and his dad’s in there bent over on a cushion with a lady rubbing his back, his head’s hanging, and the bald man is talking to another man, a young one who might be a musician, Theo’s seen him somewhere, both with arms folded, and the snake disappears here into a sound board and a small city of equipment. His dad’s head. But there’s no phone in here. The bald man notices Theo and walks over.
Your dad’s not feeling well. Let’s give him a chance to rest for a minute.
Is it his head. What’s wrong with him: Theo’s voice rises. His mom and his dad resting. Is it his head. We need to get a doctor or take him to a hospital.
The bald man smiles down at him. He’s fine, he’s just taking some medicine that makes him a little drowsy, so he’s just resting for a bit until the medicine –
Dad, Theo calls across the room. The woman looks over with an empty face, she doesn’t really have an expression, and maybe doesn’t really even see Theo, it’s hard to tell what she’s seeing. Theo feels a hand – the bald man’s saying, we have to leave him alone, let him rest and not talk, okay. You can talk to
him in just a few minutes when Roger gets here. He’ll be fine.
He’s my dad, I want to talk to him.
Honey, he’s very tired. He needs a little quiet right now: the bald man bends in front of Theo now so he can look into his eyes – and block him too, Theo thinks. You’re a good son. I’d like to have a son like you. Let’s give him a few minutes to himself.
That lady’s here, and you’re here. Does everyone have to go or just me.
Theo felt fierce looking up, mean, and nervous: What’s the matter with him, does he have the same thing as my mother. Does that mean I’ll get it too.
The bald man, still squatting, puts his hand on Theo’s head but Theo ducks away. Theo, he hasn’t had a lot of rest lately, son. He’s just left Australia and he hasn’t slept for a couple of days. It’s all just hitting him now. Mostly what he needs is time to himself, with no one pulling on him. Your father’s –
You just want me out of here. Why. What’s wrong with my dad.
He has a lot of work to do, and Roger’s coming, and he took some medicine and he’s in need of a little lie down.
Theo notices there’s a bodyguard-minder guy he hadn’t seen before, a large guy in black shirt and pants also here, along with the other people. Maybe that’s where magic comes from – a man can appear from nowhere, if you want to believe it. Magic’s just the world without science books, Theo’s dad always says, and there’s more to this world than meets the eye, pal, and that’s why music works, it gives us a way to ride that spirit, and then he always winks. Winking’s so corny but Adrian still does it. Like Gus.
Theo ducks around the bald man who’s extending an arm and runs to Adrian, who’s bent over still, sagging against the woman, who Theo’s never seen and who has long earrings with feathers on them and short hair. She looks like an elf. She watches him out of big lemur eyes, lids slowly going up and down in a blink.
Dad, are you okay. You want to go to bed. I can help you.
His dad mumbles a little. Something that sounds like Theo. Bent over, his dad says, mokay. Little rest period, mate. Mget straight here. Loveyou.
