“The swings are gone.”
“What swings?” Pauline said dreamily.
“Keep watchin’, Unc.”
As I said, our house once belonged to the family of my boyhood friend Samuel Bayer. In the corner of their yard a kid’s swing set sat dying all through our childhood. The people I bought the house from had had the swings removed. But because the world outside this morning was the 1960s, the backyard view had included the rusted, brown, sad-looking flying machine that had sent any number of kids into almost-orbit for a few happy years. The view had included those swings. I knew because when I looked at the yard minutes before, I saw them and instantly remembered. Now they were gone.
“Gee-Gee, what’s up?”
“Keep looking. Keep watching.”
“Holy shit!”
“What’s the matter, Frannie?” Magda asked.
“Could I have some more pancakes, Aunt Magda?”
“Of course, honey. You all right, Frannie?”
“Yeah.”
Out in the yard the swings were not the only things that were gone. As I watched, the entire landscape changed. It wasn’t fast like a time-lapse film. But if you watched one spot for a few seconds you’d see it and everything around it change to one degree or another. Behind where the swings had stood was a wooden fence. A few months earlier, Johnny Petangles and I spent a Sunday afternoon painting it brick red. In the 1960s when the Bayer family lived in the house the fence was white. And it had been that white a few minutes ago when the swings stood in front of it. Now there were no swings and the fence was green. Then it gradually became navy blue, white again, a different shade of green, then brick red. When I bought the house the fence was white. I had painted it that second shade of green and only recently covered it with the red.
While the colors of the fence changed, so did objects on or near it. The first thing I noticed was a large orange flowerpot hung from the top of the fence on a piece of what looked like black coat hanger. Orange pot on white fence. The pot disappeared and so did the white behind it. A silver BMX bicycle leaning against the fence appeared and disappeared. Just like that. A brown basketball here and gone. A yellow Big Wheels tricycle. Blip blip blip—they all showed for a few seconds and then were gone.
Barely able to tear my eyes from this fast-forward show, I asked Pauline if she could see it too.
“See what?”
“All the things changing out there.” I pointed. “Do you see the silver bicycle? Look! Now it’s gone.”
Pauline gave me a push. “What bicycle? What are you talking about?”
I looked at Gee-Gee. Shaking his head, he mouthed the words, “She can’t see.”
Frustrated, I went back to the view. “Holy shit!”
“Why do you keep saying that, Frannie?”
Because for maybe five seconds I saw my old pal Sam Bayer, age maybe fifteen, standing completely naked in front of the fence and pissing on the lawn. I think I laughed and gasped but had no time to think about it because it was gone too fast. Up popped one of those cheapo, above-the-ground swimming pools. Two kids frolicked in it until they frolicked right back into invisibility.
“This is stupid,” Pauline said and stomped out.
A little later the telephone rang. Magda went to get it. I heard her leave the room. Gee-Gee came up behind me. “They’re bringing the world out there back to now. But they got to do it slow, like a diver coming up after he’s been too deep in the water. That’s why I said before we had to get back here. They needed to fix everything that Astopel fucked up.”
“Nothing can happen to us while we’re in here?”
He shook his head.
“But if we were out there—”
“We’d probably get zapped. That’s what happened to Pauline’s tattoo, I guess.”
The history of my backyard in a few minutes. The thirty-year history of Crane’s View in a few minutes. What was going on all over town while we looked out the window? I would have given anything to be standing in the middle of Main Street at that moment.
“So they’re bringing the world out there back up to date? To today?”
“Right.”
“They meaning aliens?”
“Right.”
“Then how come you’re still here?”
“Because I guess you need me, Uncle Frannie.”
“Like I need a brain tumor.”
A large basset hound walked into sight, collapsed on the ground, started to scratch itself, and disappeared. Voila “The Judge.” The dog belonged to the Van Gelder family who owned the house before me. It was infamous around town for repeatedly being hit by both cars and trucks and surviving. It also smelled like a swamp, but I suppose that’s the price a dog pays for having nine lives. The Judge died peacefully of old age in its bed a month before the Van Gelders moved out.
As the fence turned red again, my vintage Briggs and Stratton lawnmower reappeared nearby. Magda came back into the room holding the portable phone. “It’s George. He says it’s important.”
I took the phone. Gee-Gee went back to the table and began eating again. “George. What’s up?”
“The dog is back, Frannie. It’s sitting next to me right now.”
“Your dog? Chuck?”
“Chuck and Old Vertue. They’re sitting side by side in my living room. And it’s alive, Frannie. Old Vertue’s alive again. And there’s someone here you’ve got to meet. He’s the one who brought them. He says he knows you. His name is Floon?”
“Caz de Floon,” Floon called out in the background.
“I’m coming over.” I pressed the disconnect button on the phone and let my arm drop to my side.
“Are Gee-Gee’s friends here?” my beautiful wife asked.
“Yeah. One’s over at George’s house. We’re going over to get him.”
* * *
The boy and I stood on the safe side of the front door. I had my hand on the doorknob. He had his on a cinnamon bun Magda warmed for him to eat on the way.
“Do you think it’s safe to go outside again?”
He bit into the bun and spoke through the gooey sweet. “We waited long enough to see if anything else would change after your fence turned red again. I’d say we’re back to today. Hey, there’s really only one way to find out—”
Eyes squinted almost shut I opened the door. I guess I figured if either the end of the world or creatures from outer space were waiting outside, by closing my eyes I could make them go away.
Things looked all right. I slowly let out my breath. What exactly had Crane’s View, or at least my street, looked like a day ago? The white Saturn was parked in front of the house across the street and not my dad’s Jaguar. Check. The jumbo hammock hung on the porch next door. Check. My motorcycle stood like a mean yellow toad in the driveway. Check. All systems go.
Taking it slow and uneasy, I walked down the porch steps. When I reached the last one, a step away from terror firma, something grabbed my shoulder and jerked me backward.
“Watch out!”
I was so shook up that I forgot to have a heart attack. Gee-Gee was laughing like a fool. I grabbed his hand on my shoulder and made to flip him. He shouted, “No, don’t! My knee! My knee’s screwed up!”
“Why the hell did you do that? Do you think that’s funny?”
“Take it easy. It was a joke. Lighten up, man.”
“Lighten up with all this shit going on? Are you stupid?”
“No, Uncle Frannie, I’m you.”
“Well then, behave yourself like me. I mean… Look, let’s just go and stop fucking around, okay?”
Pauline called out from our bedroom window. “Bye, Gee-Gee. See you in a little while!” She was leaning on the sill and it did not look like she was wearing a shirt.
“Bye, Pauline! I’ll be back soon.”
“Let’s take the Ducati. It’ll be faster.”
He shook his head. “Bad idea, boss. Better to walk there.”
“Why?”
&
nbsp; “Look around. Look at the trees and the street. They’re still working on bringing things back to now, can’t you see? We’re not up to full power here yet.”
After a heavy rain the world is different for a while. Rich new smells are everyplace, grass shines, leaves on the trees too as they drip water and change color. Branches fly up, things steam, animals reemerge from their hiding places shaking off water with furious twitches ... all small things but all things. When I did what Gee-Gee said and once again paid close attention to the things around me, I saw he was right—it would not be a good idea to drive to George’s house. Because like the world after a rainstorm, everything around me seemed to be changing too. The aliens had brought us back up to the correct time, true, but they weren’t finished yet and that was now evident.
First I noticed a long black crack on a neighbor’s white wall disappearing like a piece of spaghetti being slowly sucked into someone’s mouth. Next a pair of large whitewashed rocks reappeared at the beginning of another neighbor’s path. A moment ago they weren’t there. I knew these details—I saw them every day but they had been so trivial, so much a part of the humdrum ho-hum of life that I’d never given them a second thought. Only now did they matter when they were literally being re-placed in a world I once thought I knew. What’s that famous line? “God is in the details.” Amen.
If we’d driven to George’s on my motorcycle there was a hell of a good chance we might have fallen into a pothole along the way that was there twenty years ago but some forgetful alien forgot to fill.
Despite the urgent need to get over to George’s fast, we kept looking around.
“Look at the telephone wires.”
“And that tree—the white birch. It was half the size a minute ago.”
“Those curtains just changed.”
These changes went on and on, almost all of it small stuff, but happening everywhere to what seemed like everything.
“It’s kind of cool. These guys really take care of business.”
“Gee-Gee, have you seen them yet? I mean actually seen them?”
He hesitated, seemed to be weighing what he could and couldn’t say. “Yeah, I have. That’s why I got you out of that car and back to your house—they told me to. And they also told me to keep my mouth shut if you asked questions. After seeing what they can do here, I sure as shit ain’t gonna disobey them.”
Halfway to George’s house, Little Me had a new revelation. “I gotta tell you something. I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”
I’d been wondering what would happen if you sprayed an alien in the face (faces?) with Mace. A bird flew across our path and disappeared. Tweet tweet—gone. “Jesus, did you see that bird?”
“Yeah. Listen, I think I got the hots for Pauline.”
Silence. Keep moving.
“Did you hear me?” Silence.
“Come on, man, say something.”
I pointed a stiff finger at him. “The more one knows, the more silent he becomes.”
He whistled. “That’s a neat line. Did you just make it up?” “No, Gee-Gee, I read it. And at one point in your life you’re going to realize books are cool and being a tough guy is stupid. Believe it or not, you’ll give up one for the other. It’ll save you a lot of time.”
“Say another one. Quote something else you read.” He was serious. His face was wonder and please-tell-me.
“Here’s one that fits this moment– ‘I go to search a great perhaps.’ The dying words of a famous writer.”
Hands in his pockets and limping, he matched his pace to mine. “Meaning, like, no one knows what death is but I’m going to find out?”
“Or I’m dying and there’s nothing else I can do but go find out.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
“Take a right here.”
“I can’t believe you’re friends with George Dalemwood. That guy was a spaz.”
“And you were a sadistic dumb fuck bully. Why haven’t you asked me anything, Gee-Gee? I’m the future standing right next to you, but you haven’t asked even one question about what my life is like. Why? Aren’t you interested? Don’t you have any curiosity at all?”
It was his turn to be silent. We walked on. Twice he turned to look at me but said nothing for a long time.
“They told me something. They said I shouldn’t tell you because it might affect the way you act. But I want to tell you.”
“So tell. What is it?”
“They said after this is over, if it works and things go right, I’ll be sent back to my time and never know this happened. I’ll live my life I guess the way you already did and then end up ... like you.” He made an unhappy, impatient face.
“And you hate that?”
“Staying in Crane’s View? Marrying Magda Ostrova? I was hoping for maybe more.”
“Like white shag rugs in an LA bachelor’s pad? There is more. First you’ll go to Vietnam—”
He cringed. “No thanks.”
“Be quiet and listen to your life, especially if you’re going to forget it later. After Vietnam you’ll travel around the world. Then you’ll go to a terrific college in Minnesota.”
“Minnesota! Are you crazy? It’s a thousand degrees below zero out there in the winter.”
“Sssh. You’ll meet your first wife there. She’s a beautiful woman who’ll make a lot of money in Hollywood as a producer. A good chunk of that dough will go to you because you’ll come up with the idea for a so-so TV show that becomes very successful. You’ll get a taste of the LA life but it will mess you up. When you’ve had enough of it, you’ll come back here and be really happy for the first time in your life. Not a bad resume. So don’t worry, there’s lots of things for you to look forward to, believe me.”
“Isn’t that your dog up there?”
Seeing Old Vertue alive again, hobbling down the street toward us wasn’t a shock. Stranger things had been happening. The shock came from the fact the dog was much larger than the last time I’d seen it. Larger than any time I’d seen it. And something else—it was moving too fast. How could it walk so quickly on only three and a half legs?
“That ugly mutt don’t look friendly and it don’t look happy to see you, Uncle Fran. I think it’s time we stepped up our fucking pace.”
Vertue came straight at us, tail wagging too quickly, head down. It was moving too damned fast. A lot faster than a moment ago. Without checking for oncoming traffic, Gee-Gee stepped out into the street and limped/sprinted for the other side. I hesitated because part of me wanted to get close up to that dog. The last time I’d seen it, Floon said Old Vertue was George. What was it now? Why was it so much bigger? It began to growl. It was very loud.
“Get out of there. It’s gonna bite you.” Gee-Gee had wisely climbed onto the roof of a shiny black Audi TT. I wanted to laugh—whoever owned that nice little car was going to be tres pissed off. But I didn’t laugh because when I looked again at the dog, it had halved the distance between us and was coming on fast.
When in Rome do as the Romans do. I was near an old Volkswagen bus. Very high off the ground, the vehicle was virtually Vertue-proof if I could only get my ass onto its roof. But it is very goddamned hard to climb onto the roof of an old Volkswagen bus. There is no place to put your feet, no handholds to grab onto, or—
Clock-dock. That’s the sound the dog’s jaws made as they snapped their way through the air toward me. Hadn’t I saved this dumb animal’s life before it died? And given it an agreeable burial two times, even though it refused to stay buried? What kind of gratitude was that? Back from the dead (again), this beast was trying to attack me. And could it jump! As I scrambled up onto the roof of the VW, the three-legged monster was leaping like a pro basketball player at my ass.
Gee-Gee stood on the roof of one car while I stood on another. I was higher, his car was classier. I preferred the altitude. Meanwhile the dog looked up at me like I was the anchovy pizza he’d ordered from Domino’s.
Frustrated, I threw u
p my hands. “Now what are we supposed to do?”
Vertue growled and clock-clocked some more.
“Let’s call the police,” Wiseguy said from atop his Audi and honked a big fat fake laugh.
That inspired Old Vertue and it started jumping again. Ominously it got higher and higher.
“He gonna bite you, boss. Them teeth of his go clack-clack. You’d better think of something fast!”
“Like what?”
“Why don’t you kill it? You got your gun?”
“You can’t kill this dog. It’s already died twice since we met.”
He wouldn’t stop grinning. “Maybe the third time you’ll be lucky.”
“Gee-Gee, help me out here, willya? Don’t be a dick all day long. Helping me is helping you, don’t forget.”
“What’s its name?”
“Old Vertue.”
“What kind of dog’s name is that? Vertue! Come here, boy.”
It didn’t move. Now it was drooling. Drooling and clock-clocking. Its gums were showing. They were shiny bubble-gum pink.
“We gotta get out of here. We gotta get over to George’s and see what’s going on with him.”
“Well, we ain’t got no stilts or a hot air balloon.” He put a hand in a shading position over his eyes and pretended to look toward the horizon. “No ladder in sight. It’d be nice if there was a tightrope, but there isn’t.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“You’re welcome. You know what that dog is? It’s a FUDD.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning most dogs are just dogs, you know? Not one thing special about them. Dog-dogs. But that one—that is a fucked-up-dog-dog. A FUDD.”
Clock-clock. I looked down into Vertue’s bubble-gum mouth and noticed for the first time that its teeth were tobacco-brown. Pink and brown and shiny. Clock-clock.
“Hey, Uncle Fran?”
“What?”
“I got an idea.”
Straightening up, I looked over at him. “Yes?”
“We fly.”
“That’s brilliant. In what?”
“We just fly, man. Everything else around here is crazy, right? So why can’t we fly? Why can’t we just jump off these roofs and fly? Who says it won’t happen if we try?”
The Wooden Sea Page 17
