“I’ll call your dad for you, Frannie!” Brian yelled too loudly. I was only five feet away from him. I nodded.
“But what about Dionne Warwick, Frannie? What do I do if you’re still in jail?”
“Tell your father to get dressed and take you.”
“What?”
We drove away before I could elucidate.
* * *
“You’re fucked now, McCabe. You’re going to reform school for sure this time. It’s the gray-bar hotel for you.” Pee-Pee looked at me with a piranha grin.
I said nothing. The drive to the police station took five minutes. We could have walked there but I think he liked the whole routine of taking me in the proper way. When he pulled up in front of the building he turned off the engine but made no move to get out. When I reached for the door handle he barked, “I’ll tell you when to move, McCabe.”
I put my hand back in my lap. “What’d I do?” “What did you do?” He was enjoying this little time before he had to bring me in. I belonged to him for a while. He was going to milk it for all he could. This was Pee-Pee Bucci pre-Camille; Pee-Pee at his worst.
I turned slowly and looked at my friend. Who would have liked nothing more at that moment than to punch me in the mouth. “Yes. Why are you bringing me in?”
To my surprise, his voice went furious. “Am I stupid? Do I look stupid to you, McCabe?”
Young me or Gee-Gee would have said something rude and gotten smacked. Not me—I bit my lower lip and shook my head. “No, sir.”
“Sir is right, you little fuck-joint. I’ll tell you what you did wrong. I’ll tell you in one word—Dalemwood. Does that name sound familiar to your diseased brain? Painting the Dalemwood house?”
My junior year in high school a new family named Dalemwood moved to Crane’s View. They had two children, both odd. George was a sophomore and his sister was a senior. Odd kids stick out whether they want to or not. But what really got my attention was hearing these people were Jehovah’s Witnesses. That was all I needed. I knew absolutely nothing about the religion other than having heard somewhere that they didn’t believe in doctors. They let their children die when they got sick rather than getting them medical treatment. Suddenly I had something new to hate. Decisive action was needed. I took a can of silver spray paint from our garage and wrote JEHOVAH’S WITNESSES FUCKER CHILD KILLERS in three-foot-high letters on the side of the Dalemwoods’ freshly painted white house. George saw me, told his parents and I was brought in by the police. My father came to get me but was so fed up with me by then that he worked a deal with the chief of police. They left me in the jail cell overnight to think about my wicked behavior. It had no effect. When I got out the next day I went on my fateful date with Monica Richardson. The only thing that shook me up was seeing her parents naked.
But if that was what was about to happen to me now– seriously bad news. If I was locked in a jail cell for the next twenty-four hours it would be another of my seven days gone.
“Come on, house painter. Time for you to go to the basement.”
That’s where the cells were in the police station and it was a very bleak part of the building, believe me. Later when I became chief the first thing I did was hire an architect and a builder to make that space a lot more humane. But thirty years ago it was a big dark basement with three holding cells and three sixty-watt bulbs to light them.
Why was I reliving my seventeen-year-old life as a forty-seven-year-old? Or at least a day in that life? The last time I returned from my future to my now, everything had been correct. Why was it now so wrong? Now life inside my house was all right (excepting Gee-Gee) but one step onto the porch and it was thirty years ago. Why had I been returned to the day that Bucci put me in jail? I could have thought a lot about these matters sitting in a cell for twenty-four hours. But there was no time to fuck around. I had five days left—maybe only four. There was only one thing to do and I hated it.
Closing my eyes, I said, “Holes in the rain.” The phrase that sent me back to my future.
Or so I thought.
When I opened them again, fully expecting to be back in post-millennium Vienna, I was still in the patrol car sitting next to Pee-Pee. The only difference being he wasn’t moving and neither was anything else. It was like the time on the street with Astopel in Vienna when he told me I couldn’t talk to George. Who, it later turned out, had transformed from a friend into a centuries-old dog sitting on a hotel bed.
“How do you row a boat on a wooden sea, Mr. McCabe?”
Despite all my confused looking around, I hadn’t checked the backseat of the patrol car. Sitting there was the recently dead student Antonya Corando. Today she looked pretty good.
“What’s happening here, Antonya?”
“You must answer my question first. It’s important.”
Resting an elbow on the seat I watched her in the rearview mirror. “I don’t know how you’d row that boat. I haven’t seen many wooden seas, to tell you the truth.”
“Neither have I. It sounds like a Zen koan. I liked those when I was alive. They tickled your brain so much you wanted to scratch it. Like ‘I am turning out the light. Where did it go?’ “
I reached into Pee-Pee’s shirt pocket, took out his cigarettes, and fired one up with the car lighter. “How do you row a boat on a wooden sea? Well, if the water was made of wood then you wouldn’t need a boat. You could get out and walk to wherever you were going.”
She smiled and had a beautiful mouth of big white teeth. “I don’t know if that’s the answer, but it sounds like a good one to me.”
“Why are you here, Antonya?”
“Astopel wanted to come but they wouldn’t let him because he messed up too many things. He was the one who killed me. And made me start doing those notebooks with the drawings of you. I didn’t know what I was doing when I made them—they just came to me and my hand acted like a slave. Astopel also sent the other you, the young one.”
“Gee-Gee?”
“Yes.”
She started giggling which only confused me more. “Why are you laughing, Antonya?”
“Because of all the ‘ee-ee’s’ in your life. There’s Gee-Gee and Pee-Pee Bucci...” She laughed out loud now and it was a great sound, a girlie sound, something that reminded you life could be your friend.
“And you know what? I wouldn’t mind making wee-wee right now—too much coffee this morning. So that makes three ee-ee’s for me-ee.”
That set her off more. I sat basking in her loud free laughter like it was Italian sunshine. Nothing moved. I smoked Pee-Pee’s Pall Mall cigarette and looked around. Out my window a candy-apple-red Chevy El Camino driven by fat Russell Pratt stood waiting for an unchanging red traffic light to change to green. Which reminded me—
“Antonya, since you already died then you know: What comes after? Is there a God?”
Her new laughter came like a tidal wave. After it washed over everything she had to wipe her eyes. While looking at me in the rearview mirror her laughter came again. What the hell did I say?
“What the hell did I say? I only asked if there’s a God.”
“But you asked like you wanted to know what time it is. Like it’s no big deal.”
I rubbed the top of my head. “My life couldn’t get any stranger than it is right now. The way things have been going, maybe you’re God dressed up as the dead girl who drew pictures of my future. I don’t know. There are no rules in my life anymore.”
As if on cue, the door on my side of the car flew open and someone grabbed my shoulder. Hard.
“Get out. Come on, get out of the car!” Gee-Gee. He looked and sounded very scared.
“What’s up? What’s going on?”
“Just get out of the car and let’s go.”
“Hi, Gee-Gee!” Antonya called out from the backseat.
He gave her a quick eyeball while pulling on my shirt. “Get-the-fuck-out! Let’s go.”
Starting to move, I looked in the mirror one last time.
Antonya was still smiling. It was bizarre because her facial expression was exactly the same as it had been moments before when she was laughing at me. It seemed like her face would stay like that forever.
“Bye, Frannie!”
“Run, motherfucker. Just run like a fuck!” Gee-Gee took off like a cheetah. My middle-aged legs and Marlboro lungs were no match for the kid. He’d blast down the street half a block then stop short to check on me. Gesturing me forward with a big wave of his arm, he’d call out hurry, move it, come on. I tried but it was no use. Trying to keep up with him, I knew my days of running hard on this earth were finished. Plus why the hell were we running anyway? Why had I followed him when I might have learned important things from Antonya if I’d stayed? Found out about death or God or who knows what else. But no, I just jumped up and ran after myself. Hey me, wait for me!
When I was on my third verge of collapse I gathered enough strength to call out to him, “Where are we going?”
“Home! We got to get home before they get here.”
“Who’s they?
“Just move, man. Just move.”
Back the way I’d come, past Scrappy’s Diner, the high school, houses of old friends and enemies. Another dog I’d known stood sniffing a spot in someone’s garden. Stopping to catch my breath I felt like I was running past my life, in reverse. But even that strange way, memories continued to fly through my mind like small objects flying around in a tornado. There was no way I could have stopped them.
But something stopped Gee-Gee. Twenty feet in front of me he was suddenly airborne and then fell in a strange way on his side. When he hit the ground it was so loud that I could hear the bounce of his bones on stone. Running up, I was only concerned for him. The boy—the boy—he fell so hard—is he all right?
“Don’t worry about me—just get back to the house!” Holding his hip, he kept looking behind me, then all around, very scared. His face was so scared.
“Gee-Gee, what is it? What’s happening?”
“Astopel screwed up everything. He interfered. He interfered with your life and shouldn’t have. I only found that out for sure now. Before I thought it was okay he was around. It was okay to bring me here to be with you and send us both to the future, but it wasn’t. He shouldn’t have done any of it. Understand? He shouldn’t have killed Antonya. He shouldn’t have come and tried to influence you. But he did, and now you got to deal with the fallout. His shit comes down on your head if things go wrong, but that’s the way it is. So get home, please. If you get to the house I think you’ll be safe. If not, you’re fucked, and that’s a guarantee.”
“What about Astopel?”
“He’s gone. They got him. You won’t see that jerkoff again.”
“Who’s they?”
He tried to stand up but couldn’t. He fell back down and started cursing. I reached to help him but he swatted my hand away. “Take off! Get out, will you just go!” And suddenly he began to cry.
I knew where those tears came from. That very deep and secret address: seventeen-year-old McCabe Street. The place no one had ever been allowed to go or see or even know about. The place locked tight away behind walls of cruelty, bluff, and resentment. Where love too fragile or deformed lived, as well as an overbearing fear that everything you ever dreamed of doing would either stink or embarrass you or fail miserably.
I hesitated only an instant before pulling him up and onto my shoulder in a fireman’s heave. He was so light. It almost made me laugh how light he was. He screamed at me to put him down, but that’s not what he wanted. Not really. Besides, I was already moving toward the house and there was little he could do in that helpless position.
Walking seemed easier with him over my shoulder. I thought about that later and gargled on the symbolism—whenever you’re willing to carry your self... that kind of baloney.
“Put me down!”
“Shut up and row.”
“What?”
“How do you row a boat on a wooden sea?”
“Have you flipped out?”
“No. That’s what Antonya asked me back in the car.”
“Really? She asked that?”
Our words were broken up by my chugging along—Really? She-asked-that?
“Yes, right before you came. Was that really Antonya?”
“I don’t know. Yeah, probably. Or maybe it was one of them. I’m not sure.”
I stopped. I could feel his body heat against my cheek. “Who’s them? Just tell me that. Who’s them?”
“Aliens.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I second that emotion, brother.”
At Home in the Electric chair
“Gee-Gee, would you like some more bacon?”
“Oh yes, ma’am, that would be great. It’s delicious.”
“Ma’am sounds like a cowboy movie. Call me Magda. We’re practically related. Frannie, I cannot get over how alike you two look. He really could be your son. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth about who he belongs to?” My wife gave me a shame-on-you smile while spearing three more fat slices of Canadian bacon onto Gee-Gee’s plate. She handed it back. He immediately shoved a whole piece in his mouth and like a dog, barely chewed before swallowing it. That made seven pieces of bacon he had eaten in two breakfasts over the course of two hours. Was he a black hole? Where did all of the food go? Did he have several stomachs like a cow? Or cheek pouches like a chipmunk where he stored it for the winter? Had I really eaten that much when I was his age?
Magda and Pauline couldn’t take their eyes off him, for different reasons obviously. Magda was totally delighted to have this mysterious husband-lookalike sitting at her breakfast table. In contrast, Pauline appeared sexually stunned, or like she had been hit on the head with a wooden mallet. Same difference. Outside our house, aliens waited to devour us, but inside it was full breakfast ahead. I didn’t understand how Gee-Gee could suddenly be so calm about it.
The women were sitting in the living room waiting for us when we came in. I had a million questions to ask him but wasn’t about to discuss little green men or dead Antonya with these two innocents around. They had cooked breakfast together, a real rarity in our house and a sign of the specialness of the occasion. The only thing I could do was sit with a piled plate in front of me, trying to make eye contact with Gee-Gee to see if he’d communicate anything. The one time I caught his eye, he smiled and did a small cha-cha with his head. I assumed that meant I was to stay cool and wait for the right moment to talk. But he was the one who’d started the scare thing outside. Now he had my fearometer in the red zone (a new experience for me) while he enthusiastically wolfed down bacon and blueberry pancakes.
“Frannie, how come you never told me about Gee-Gee?” Magda looked beautiful that morning although she is not a beautiful woman. And so did Pauline. They were two great-looking women and I was lucky to be living in the same house with them. The house which at that very moment might have been surrounded by space invaders, according to Bacon Face across the table from me.
I looked at her and tried to think up a believable lie. “Because his parents are jerks and I wanted nothing to do with them. I never even really knew about him till recently. Hey, Gee-Gee, remember those visitors you talked about before?”
He didn’t even look up from his plate. “Yeah?”
“Are they coming over here or not?”
“Dunno. Could I have some more syrup please?”
Magda prodded. “What visitors? Should we be making some more pancakes?”
Gee-Gee waved his fork around. “Some guys I know from out of town.”
“Out of town?” I sputtered.
“Are they friends of yours?” Pauline’s voice was jumping out of her throat—more Gee-Gees were coming to our house this morning? Yeah, baby!
“They’re more just guys than friends, know what I mean?” Magda looked at Pauline and simultaneously the two grew exactly the same smile—Boys Ahoy!
I was so frustrated by whatever stall
tactic he was up to that I couldn’t sit still any longer. For want of anything better to do I stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. Looking out the window there I was glad to see only the old rusty swing set and not ET. No flying saucers had landed in our backyard. Turning on the tap I watched silvery water rush into the sink and down the drain. When it had run a long time Magda asked what I was doing.
“Counting molecules.” I didn’t look up. I felt like I was going to pop.
“Frannie—”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mag. Don’t worry about me.”
Gee-Gee said, “Look out the window, Uncle Frannie.”
“I just did.”
“Look harder. Look really carefully at the backyard.”
I ignored him and kept looking at the water. I turned it off. Then on. Then off again.
Pauline piped up, “Are your friends here, Gee-Gee? Are they in the backyard?”
“Naah. There’s just something out there I want Uncle Fran to see.”
A chair scraped the floor. A moment later Pauline stood next to me. Putting a hand on my shoulder, she rested her chin on it. This girl was not a big displayer of affection. I assumed her cuddle was for Gee-Gee’s benefit. I didn’t care—it was nice having her there. I tipped my head till it leaned on hers. “You smell good.”
“I do?”
“Yup. You smell like cloves and burning leaves.”
“Wow, that’s a cool description, Uncle Frannie. Cloves and burning leaves. I like that a lot.”
I turned toward Gee-Gee. Surprisingly he was watching me with real admiration.
“I swear to God—I never heard anyone described like that.”
“Well, kid, when you’re older I’m sure you’ll think up clever things like that to say too.”
He grinned while a small continent of yellow and spotted blue pancake dropped off his fork.
Pauline pinched my side. “That was mean. He was only paying you a compliment.”
“You’re right. Put your head back on my shoulder—it feels good.”
After she did I turned back to the window to see if there was anything in the yard that I’d missed.
The Wooden Sea Page 16
