by Ed Taylor
Bobby stood at the edge of the cockpit watching: back from the boat front. Adrian and Mark splashed. Bobby yelled, we need to get out of the channel, Adrian, this is like stopping in the middle of the road.
They can drive around us. It’s too bloody nice to leave.
Theo squatted on the flat side of the boat and put one leg in the water, pulled it out. It’s cold, Theo yelled to his dad.
You get used to it, and then it feels like mother’s arms, warm and soft. I ain’t getting out.
We’ve got a schedule to keep. You’ve got work.
Roger. 10-4, copy that, baby. Adrian laughed.
Theo closed his eyes and slipped in, shocked by the water, and hung off the boat, looking up at Bobby, now just a shape between Theo and the lantern. Somewhere behind them a horn sounded, two notes.
A fourth, A and D: Adrian’s voice rippled like the water.
Theo’s legs dangled in the dark water, and there was nothing underneath him, if he let go he could sink forever. He struggled to pull himself back into the boat, and Bobby reached down to lift.
Do I pay you, or does the label: Adrian’s asking.
The agency, Mark said. We need to get moving.
Of course, the other leg of the unholy triangle. Well, my friend, let’s shove off.
Out in the black there was splashing and Theo, now sitting under a blanket Bobby dug from a door in the boat’s side, shivered a little but not because of being cold. Because he wasn’t. Bobby put a folded orange plastic sheet next to Theo and said, if you can’t warm up, son, just wrap up in this, okay.
Okay.
I’m a hopeless romantic, Adrian said, his head floating above the water between the life jackets on each arm, the rest of him paddling like a dog, Mark behind him with the rope in his teeth. Bloody world’ll break your heart if you let it. Theo realized Adrian talked at him. At least he thought so, so – okay, dad.
Adrian laughed, Bobby now helping drag him in like a caught fish, lifting his legs, with Mark pushing behind and once Adrian slipped limply over the rail Mark was up and over like an acrobat, in a single clean motion. Like a dance. Adrian shivered, his bird chest white and his pants black and soaked. Bobby’d gotten things from the door – there was a room under the front of the boat, a cabin, and Bobby’d gotten more blankets and a big thermos. Theo remembered Mark and Bobby’s backpacks swung off and tossed into the cabin.
Let’s haul away, mateys.
Adrian’d covered his head with the blanket and was a swirl of cloth in the dark beside Mark and Bobby, like a ghost following them, not quite as tall but tall enough. The engine kicked over after its long purring and Bobby throttled up and the boat’s rear dug into the water and the engines whined higher and they sliced through the black at the front and the back, the boat’s nose splitting the air and the water and leaving a white scar. Adrian sang now, then he was telling them things to sing, then it was his voice, and then Mark and Bobby, they sang parts and Adrian sang parts.
Our boots and clothes are all in pawn, go down you blood-red roses, go down, and it’s flaming drafty round Cape Horn, go down you blood red roses, go down, oh you pinks and posies, go down you blood-red roses, go down.
My dear old mother said to me, my dearest son come home from sea.
It’s round Cape Horn we all must go. Round Cape Horn in the frost and snow, you’ve got your advance – ha, Adrian laughed – and to sea you’ll go, to chase them whales through the frost and snow, it’s round Cape Horn you’ve got to go, for that is where them whalefish blow. It’s growl you may but go you must, if you growl too much your head they’ll bust, just one more pull and that will do.
Under stars they sang, a high sound against the big engine, barely there. Theo listened to the voices of the people and the boat and the water and the night, some of the voices he couldn’t understand, but all lifted on the water over the water, Theo bumping and shivering a little but holding his breath, to hear.
Theo watches the copter zoom away, tail up like an angry wasp, isn’t that what they do, or is that just cartoons. Theo’s thinking he’d like to be a scientist and study animals, but what animals. Humans are animals too, and he sees the people scattered on the lawn and inside spilling out and he’ll observe, be a scientist. Where are the dogs. He still doesn’t know.
It is afternoon, and Theo’s in the Hawaii shorts from yesterday and the day before and his hair’s tangled, and he hasn’t brushed his teeth, and he can’t remember what he ate, and – he’s an animal. What if he had a brother or sister. A litter mate.
The horse man bounds around the house’s side and Mingus sits on the horse with him, holding a bottle of that Olde English. And another lady is chasing them on the scooter, which has a rope tied to it and there’s another lady on an old tricycle, and she’s standing on it bent over trying to stay on, and laughing a lot, they’re all laughing, and there’s another horse, another man, dressed in polo clothes, and on the back of his horse is a dog. Wait, is that a dog. It’s a pile of something, like a rug, maybe, something tied down. The sun is hot.
Hello, what’s your name. A lady and a man, old people, where did they come from, stand beside Theo, smiling and the lady under a floppy white hat. She’s wearing a frilly dress and he’s wearing a coat and a striped shirt, his hair strands greasy, and his pants are white. He has bug eyes, they both have bug eyes and their skin is wrinkly. They both hold glass glasses: Theo realizes he’s staring at the bubbles, like little chains.
I have to find my dogs, Theo says, not wanting to be rude but running
Where.
Two people are rolling around on the ground, are they fighting. Can’t tell. It’s a man and a lady. They have bathing suits on.
Where should he run. Where are the dogs. He’s being chased and needs to find his pack. There’s Gina. Can he talk to her. Where’s the edge of everything, there’s no end to anything.
Theo’s at the house front now and somebody’s spray-painting the side of the house. ATAK in silver and there’s a face. Two men spraying, in ripped T-shirts. Theo’s past them, and the Seal is out now, on someone’s shoulders, they’re walking in the mouth of front doors. Where are the dogs. There’s music, and the open doors on the long RV are fins and the cable snakes out, and a sound guy smokes sitting on the floor of the back. Someone’s shrieking somewhere.
Theo feels cold all of a sudden and he’s moving from light into shadow, into the house. He’s running down the right hall, toward the phone room and the room with the microphones, and there’s the Christmas tree and the presents, which two people sit among – Theo’s presents. He runs in to look – what are they doing. Nothing is ever really his unless he hides it.
Those are mine, Theo says, the man and lady staring at each other and then at him, not saying anything. One of them is bleeding a little, the man, from his lip. They seem stunned.
Theo runs. Where are the dogs. He’s in the ballroom, and there’s work going on, cables and equipment piled and pony-tailed guys – why do only the workers have ponytails – setting up instruments. Roger and Adrian. Somewhere upstairs maybe. But the sun.
Theo bolts through the French doors onto the terrace, the stone hot. Croquet and someone has a hula hoop. A white behind. A man laying on top of a lady. They’re doing it. On the grass in the sun. He’s seen dogs do it too, out in the sun. Some people are cheering and beating on things, bottles and one has a small drum.
Theo’s hot and instantly hard and embarrassed and he’s off and away toward the trees at the lawn edge, like waiting friends. He wants to take care of something, he wants to be responsible for something, he wants a job.
In the shade he’s breathing deep, underwater, a fish suddenly, breathing through gills in the gloom. He stares back at the people, on the ground, in the air, in windows. Now he’s a soldier. He’s got to go back, got to get into the fortress to rescue his friends. Where are the dogs.
Mingus lumbers out towering over a lady. He’s got Theo’s BB gun, from wherever Theo left
it: he can’t remember. Theo lies on the ground. The enemy senses him.
Adrian’s on the terrace now, people on either side of him, and Roger, and they’re looking and pointing, then they’re back in – were they looking for him. Theo scrambles onto his feet, his crotch rubbing against the pants. He’s holding it, running. He doesn’t care.
He runs past Mingus and the others, no one really noticing, and into the ballroom, where Roger and Adrian sit in a corner on two folding chairs, each holding a bottle.
Were you looking for me.
Adrian’s sleepy-looking, grinning, hello, my friend. No, we weren’t looking for you but I’m glad to see you.
Roger grins at him too. Keep a tight grip, man, the world will try to take everything you’ve got. Including that.
Theo’s panting, forgetting about his hand. His face is hot: dad dad dad. Can we please do something.
Like what. Adrian’s taking a swig.
Like what you said.
Sure, after we rehearse. We need to set levels and get a reading on the room. Then we’ll – you were going to show me something, right.
Yes. When can we do it.
Right after this.
Sad. Sad. Anxious, nervous – everybody’s serious, even Adrian and Roger now with their heads together kind of whispering.
Why are you whispering.
Just figuring out some things for my band, Roger says as he drinks from his bottle.
My band. Call me that again and I’ll kick your skinny fag ass. It’s Jimmy the keyboard guy, who’s here now. He looks serious.
Roger stares at him and breaks into a smile. Not you, man. You’re special.
Fuck you. Warner walks past them and out. The men fixing cables look at each other and keep doing it; the other musicians, and Don, say curse words and walk out onto the terrace.
Goddamn it, fucking idiot: Adrian’s mad now, at Roger or at the keyboard player, Theo doesn’t know. Adrian pushes Roger: The rest of humanity’s not your fucking house staff, man.
The minders begin moving toward them: Come on, now.
Roger shoves Adrian and turns on the minders: This is so fucking tedious. Let’s try again when everyone’s over their tantrums, shall we.
Roger moves off into the gloom of the left back hall, where Theo sees the faces of the Italian man and lady floating, along with other faces, floating.
Adrian shakes off the hands of the minders. I’ve put up with this for fifteen years. Having to make the bloody peace and clean up after him. This ain’t working.
Dad, dad. Theo’s on him, pulling his hand.
Adrian’s frowning but looking, yeah mate. Where’s your grandfather.
I don’t know. You want to see my sketchpad –
Sure, mate, after I fix this mess. Tim, find out where the hell Gus is. Theo needs some attention. Where’s Colin, for god’s sake.
Adrian’s off and Tim’s saying, let’s find Gus, come on. Tim’s warm hand’s on Theo’s bare shoulder. Theo’s not moving, then he feels Tim pushing, just a little. They want him to want to find Gus. Okay. Where is Gus. Where are the dogs. Somebody’s playing a guitar.
Gus’s shacked up. Theo’s heard that before. He’s heard it about his dad too. So now he figures Gus’s shacked up. He was with a lady, maybe he’s still with a lady. He was wearing a towel when those police came. Theo does not want to see Gus and a lady. He’ll let Tim go in first. This is a tricky mission you go first I’ll cover the hall and watch your back. Aye aye skip.
Noise, low noise rising from outside, over everything. Another helicopter – the man in the suit is back, maybe. Theo wants to watch the helicopter land, he would like to fly one, he would like to fly. Have a nest and: no, no nest. Just fly.
Theo runs away from Tim toward the light, toward the ballroom. He’s through the ballroom where everyone’s smoking and sprawled like dogs. Where are the dogs. He’s flying over the ground, people naked but not on top of each other, some ladies lying in chairs eyes closed so he can look, so different, funny looking, not like magazines, what if they get sunburned. And in the air a helicopter circling, just circling, it’s not landing, it’s tilting and the long barrel of a camera pokes out the side, shooting pictures.
Bang bang bang. Bang bang. One of the men stands holding up both hands with his middle fingers sticking up. Another one has his hands on his penis and is waggling it – is everybody supposed to be like that. Is he normal.
Can he help his dad. What should he do. This stuff happens more when Roger’s around. All of it. Helicopters and fights.
Theo remembers one time he stood with his dad and Chris the regular drummer watching Roger get off a boat, and Adrian said, here comes the king. Chris said, how do you know he’s the king. And Adrian said because he ain’t got shit on him, and both of them laughed. Theo didn’t understand: why did you call him the king.
Adrian noticed Theo, rubbed his head. Didn’t know you were there, mate. We were just quoting some lines from a movie. He ain’t the king, he’s just a cat I was at school with.
Try telling him that, Chris said, pulling hard on a cigarette.
Chris stomped on his cigarette with a bare foot, exhaled a cloud, and crossed his arms, then lowered himself to sit as Theo followed Adrian walking down the waterside steps toward Roger, wearing a cape and a three-cornered hat. A Paul Revere hat, like the paintings in the history book. Roger grinned at Adrian and held out one of those silver suitcases they gave to each other all the time: Not bad, he said.
Damn right, Adrian said, taking the case. Theo thinks that was Venice.
Theo veers off now to find the dogs – they need somebody to take care of them. They don’t like all the people, everyone wanting to pet them or feed them or dress them up, or pretending to like them but not. You can’t trust everybody. How do you get from safe place to safe place, who helps you. Who can help you. What if you’re alone.
Sun burns, the helicopter’s circling, the people mostly ignoring it now, some going inside with a flip of fingers. It’s summer. Wednesday, Theo thinks. He’s not sure what month it is. Maybe five o’clock.
On a desert island, shipwrecked, how to get off. He’ll build a boat.
He goes to find ladders in the caretaker’s cottage, to make the sides of a boat: he’ll put one on either side of the sliding board off at the corner of the lawn – and he’ll have a boat, with a lookout. Sail away.
Theo runs for the caretaker’s shed, tile roof slates raining off, a line of them outlining the shape of the cottage like drips from the eaves. Colin’s been on the roof hammering at them and yelling at the sun before: Theo’s seen him. The slates he’s fixing break a lot and that makes him yell more.
Punching open the stiff door Theo’s in the weird gloom: so much of that around here, dark in the day when the world seems bright except where he is. He listens, not wanting to see anything else. No sounds.
Theo moves toward the ladders, hung on hooks to keep them off the damp floor. They’re spattered wood, and heavy: he has to strain to lift one from its hook, and then it crashes down on the hard stone floor. He hopes it’s not cracked. Theo lifts it and it’s heavy but he’s taking it, and so starts dragging, banging his back against the door, then the door banging open and he’s back in the sun, dragging and carrying, looking at the ground, hearing everything, low voices and high, laughing like flutes, the helicopter churning over everything, music from somewhere, and he’s dragging, hot, toward the slide and the swing set.
Now Theo’s running back to the shed, a little wet under the arms and in the middle of his chest, and he can feel wet on his scalp, sweat. Perspiration helps you cool off, dogs can’t sweat so they pant, their tongues help them cool off. Theo feels sorry for animals in fur, the zoo polar bears he saw in Amsterdam and Texas and other zoos, flat as rugs, arms and legs sprawled, looking sad. Theo wondered what it would be like to be so far from home. Is this his home. Maybe Jamaica is. His dad seems happiest there.
Theo’s back in the shed door and not st
opping. Straight to the ladders and wrestling off another one, taller, that topples over him and he has to jump out of the way. Then he’s at it grabbing and dragging out and over the grass and the dogs have short hair but they still pant. Do they have water, Theo wonders, and thinks he will go fill their bowls when he sets up the second ladder, the other side of the ship.
Theo’s leaning the ladders on the ground beside the slide for the boat sides, and then he can be inside, under the slide, like a cabin, and then he climbs the slide stairs, captain, looking over the green ocean and the people from the boat he built and then he slides down and at the bottom jumps up and runs toward the house, to give the dogs water.
Bodies are obstacles, and chairs, and he’s dodging. Someone tries to trip him, smiling – adults think that’s being friendly. It was Jimmy, the man who plays keyboards. Theo understands he didn’t mean anything so Theo just jumps over the stretched out skinny leg, like ivory it’s so white, an elephant tusk, no shape and so white. Maybe Jimmy’s sick, Theo thinks. The rest of him’s pretty white too, yellowy-white. He’s only wearing a pair of baggy shorts and his stomach sticks out a lot.
The dogs have water bowls outside and inside. There’s yelling: Colin’s standing on the ledge of a window on the third floor, next to another open window. On the lawn people are calling him names. Adrian’s head pops from the other window, yelling too – get your ass inside, you bloody idiot. I’ll be damned if I –
Now Colin is yelling and laughing and taking a really long step from one ledge to the next and grabbing onto the window frame and Theo can see Adrian’s got an arm around Colin’s legs and Colin’s yelling about messing with his balance and he was doing fine until all the fucking old women started bleating – get inside, Adrian’s yelling and Colin’s shakily, slowly squatting until he can get both legs inside the window and now he’s sitting with his back to the lawn and now he’s inside and Theo can hear the yelling and he’s inside the house through the ballroom and here comes Roger in a long robe with a white hat and a white cane and he’s walking past the piano and he stops and sits as Theo walks toward kitchen and the indoor dog bowls and one’s empty and one has a hamburger in it, bun and pickle on top. It might be from McDonald’s. All the food still sits on the table, low flames under some of the pans, and the caterer is on the phone, writing on a piece of paper – and six dozen oysters, she’s saying, looking up at Theo and winking.
