by Colin McAdam
Walt said when will enough be enough.
They built him his own house. Walt hired some contractors to make a reinforced concrete building adjacent to theirs, nicely hidden by the maples. It was attached to the main house by an inward-opening, self-bolting door and a short concrete corridor with high windows. The building was one large room, twenty-five by thirty feet, twenty feet tall with climbing bars and a raised pedestal bedroom that had a large reinforced window looking out to the front through the maples. Looee climbed a steel ladder to reach the bedroom, or he could jump to it from the climbing bars. There was a drain in the middle of the floor and a squat toilet in the corner.
It was concrete because of practicality, and it was only ever thought of as his own place, his suite, his domain. Walt had proposed it and Judy hadn’t objected in the least.
He would now have his own space to do whatever mischief he could, and would have to behave all the more when he was invited into the main house. There was a doorbell placed low beside his door and he learned to ring that whenever he wanted someone to get him.
Judy had sensed that Looee wanted to be alone more anyway. By the age of nine he was well into adolescence. Looee would sit with Judy reading magazines and she would wonder sometimes why he would suddenly start to display.
Not inside, honey. Not in the big house.
He had trouble stopping.
If Walt said not here goddamnit he would stop, but when Walt wasn’t around Looee might flip the coffee table over or run around the living room as fast as he could.
It took her a while to realize that things in the magazines were triggering his displays. Men holding up large fish in Walt’s Game and Fish magazines sometimes set him off: he wanted to be one of the men.
Bras in the Sears catalogue.
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty.
Judy saw him with his hand down the front of his pants as he lay right back on the couch. She wanted to give him privacy.
He didn’t seem to have much shame, but sometimes she would see him get up and leave the room, watching with the wisdom of a mother, sad about the things in his future that she might not be a part of.
He loved his house. He rang the doorbell constantly, often at night when he had a bad dream or to make sure that Walt and Judy weren’t asleep. But when he was in his own house he never heard no, Looee, no.
He swung on the bars and wanted Walt to see, and imagined Walt was watching.
Looee’s house was the grocery store.
Looee was jumping from shelf to shelf and no one said no, Looee, no.
Walt was watching Looee jump from shelf to shelf, can Walt do this, it was fast. But Walt wasn’t there.
Popcorn.
One more swing.
Two more swing.
Popcorn.
Looee wasn’t in the grocery store, Looee was swinging over the creek. Look how far. Looee’s not touching the water. Swing. Don’t touch the water.
Popcorn.
Looee wanted popcorn.
Looee rang the bell.
Walt unlocked the door between houses and said mummy’s asleep, it’s Sunday.
Looee rang the bell again, and Walt said Mummy’s asleep I said.
Looee was hugging Walt’s waist and he took Walt’s hand and took him inside Looee’s house. Looee screamed louder than Walt could scream, and swung from bar to bar.
Wow said Walt. That’s great. Fast.
Looee wanted popcorn.
Looee swung and Walt said that’s amazing. Don’t hurt yourself.
Looee took Walt’s hand and pulled him down the corridor and Walt said I told you buddy, mummy’s sleeping.
Looee tasted popcorn butter and Walt knew his noises.
You’re hungry. I gotcha.
They made popcorn and watched the game.
When the fall came there was the usual feeling of melancholy and fragile possibilities. It was Walt’s favourite season and he told Judy he wanted to take Looee hunting.
She said I think he’s still too little.
You think.
I think so darling.
Walt rarely made the connection directly, but the richness that filled his nose and eyes when he stood in the middle of the woods made him think of his first wife and the fact that these colours will be taken by winter and today he can pluck meat from this waning abundance, and there’s permanence in that.
One day I want to take him.
They took him for a picnic instead. He watched them from his window as they loaded the pickup and he was screaming and jumping up and down. Walt put two gallons of gas and a chainsaw in the back so he could make a fire in the woods while Judy and Looee played. They packed bologna sandwiches, a Thermos of coffee, light beer and a bag of dried fruit. Judy went through the house to open Looee’s door and he ran out ahead of her, grabbing a work shirt and a plastic gun from the kitchen.
He sat between them and no longer grabbed the wheel when they drove, and the only time he was tense was when they went over the long Scott Bridge. When he was afraid or in pain he pulled his lips back over his teeth—it was the same smile you see on liars or half-brave men in pain, civil servants walking calmly through rough neighbourhoods. He made low mocking noises at cows and horses and dead raccoons by the road.
Freedom is eating and not having to give thanks, not sharing, not working for the food, wondering about its source, caring about when and how you eat or when it will run out.
Nobody is free said Larry. Looee’s got his own little place here, but nobody is free.
Looee let no one cross his threshold unless he really liked them. Larry came over a lot and they drank beer, and Larry and Walt talked about work while Looee swung and groomed and told jokes with his face like a grandpa to a baby.
Walt and Larry’s partner, Mike, was the planning commissioner for Addison County that year and was drifting away from their business. As owners of commercial property Walt and Larry had long ago realized the need for political connections, and both of them had served as selectmen in their towns. Mike was someone Walt brought on board for his political interests, and he was always the most eager to have his voice heard.
When there were efforts to rezone or raise taxes Mike would work in their mutual interests, but he wasn’t working so well lately, not always making decisions in their favour. Larry said he’s got his own life. Nobody is free. He looked at Looee and said Looee’s got his own little place here.
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty.
Looee woke up and climbed down to the squat toilet in the corner. He liked to leave a small mess around the edges on the floor for mummy to clean.
Summer heat was sweet as Tang. He rang the bell for breakfast.
Susan was going to come over in the evening to take Judy to her book-of-the-month club.
Looee was excited when he heard that Susan was coming over.
You really love Susan don’t you.
He felt nervous and happy and gagged on the egg in his throat.
The morning drifted invisibly and Looee watched Walt do this and that. Looee went back to his place and swung around. He thought about spaghetti and pretty ladies. He looked through a Better Homes and Gardens and rubbed the lips of a pretty woman on his balls.
He wanted a friend and no longer fully understood that Susan was coming over.
He grabbed his overalls and walked pantless to his door and rang the bell for mummy.
You want me to wash those.
He shooed her away and wedged the door with a rubber eraser—something he regularly got away with when mummy paid a visit. He looked for his pants with suspenders.
Walt wore suspenders on the days when he did little more than eat—holidays, mostly—and Looee learned to associate them with special occasions.
He felt like dressing up.
He collected some favourite things.
He felt a growing importance.
He had his own comb, which he put in his pants.
> There was no mirror in his house but the clothes felt good. He smiled and made proud noises like when mummy says how handsome! and he grew more restless.
He heard a truck on the driveway and screamed.
Walt had arranged for some landscaping to be done, and the workmen arrived at noon. The men didn’t know what those noises were from the house, and knew even less when Walt simply said that’s Looee.
They unloaded their gear from their truck and Looee watched them from his bedroom. One was skinny and one was hairy. He wondered if these men were staying for dinner, and he wanted to show Walt and Judy how handsome he looked.
Judy had felt fulfilled that day, rooted happily in her life and enjoying the summer, eager to reach out and be accepted by Susan and her friends. They were supposed to talk about a novel called Trinity by Leon Uris. She was slightly nervous about discussing books because she hadn’t been to university, but she was curious about what the other women thought. Susan wasn’t much older than Judy, but had reached life’s milestones early. She had married and lost her husband. She raised a son to maturity on her own, and instead of coming to terms with the imperfection and unpredictability of life, she celebrated and embraced the opposite. She knew that things would be perfect, that they ought to be, and there was a positivity to that which Judy admired. Judy unconsciously adopted Susan’s elegance as she moved around the house and thought about her friend.
She heard the landscapers at work outside and thought she would bring some lemonade to them.
Looee had watched them from his window unloading machines he had never seen. A Bobcat and a gas-powered weed trimmer. He was impressed by their violence. He wanted to meet the men.
They were addressing a slope on the front lawn and the wiry one said there’ll be too much slip. Walt had asked them to add a low stone wall and steps to make the place look like it had been there longer, like it had grown from the earth.
They looked around at Walt’s property with their hands on their hips. Like all with a knowledge of craft, they imagined how they would have built and shaped things differently.
It was a short drive from the road to Walt’s house so there was no real mystery about the nature of the place. Big blue house stretching through a few new additions. There were tires all over the front lawn and in one corner was a swing set with the seats missing. There was some sense of a thwarted childhood or an incomplete past which the wiry landscaper found familiar and discomforting. Dirty wet shed where his mother sent him. He felt pity for Judy’s children, however old they were.
I’ve got to do some work for my lady’s dad this weekend he said.
The hairy one was looking at Walt’s old pickup sitting on blocks. He was wondering whether Walt was rich or not.
Looee watched as Judy walked across the lawn with a tray and glasses of lemonade. Looee loved lemonade. The men heard a loud whoo from inside the house that sounded like a teenager admiring a hot rod.
Judy had tied up her hair to look smart and taller for the book ladies, and to the men it looked gigantic.
They heard another whoo from the house.
How old’s your son.
He’s around nine or ten said Judy. Which I think is more like fourteen.
She smiled as she said so.
The men were confused.
Looee assumed that these two were special—the way they shifted dirt and got lemonade from Judy.
His hair was erect and bursting out of his collar.
After Judy had taken his overalls, Looee’s eraser left him free to go through the door.
He walked down the corridor to the front of the house and stepped out into the sun.
Looee was usually best at disarming workmen or macho types; the coldest and toughest personalities often relaxed like they did for no one else. Walt and Judy had been careful to control most meetings, though, because there was always some opportunity for surprise.
When Judy saw Looee walking proudly towards them, her accustomed caution was pushed to the back of her mind. She wasn’t surprised by his being outside so much as she was by his outfit. He was wearing something special and he looked so proud, and instead of thinking about the situation and encouraging him to go back in, she smiled and said oh my Looee, you look so handsome. She knew that was the reaction he wanted.
The landscapers saw a chimpanzee walking towards them. He was wearing a plaid jacket backwards with suspenders pulled over it, and a long pearl necklace which Judy had been missing for months.
He was smiling his genuine smile and bobbing his head to Judy’s lovely words.
The wiry one said what is that, and started laughing. Then his partner laughed and soon it was hands on chest and thighs and that is the weirdest fuckin thing I’ve ever seen.
It took Looee a moment to get over his excitement and realize they were laughing at him.
Judy watched his expression change and there was nothing she could do. Don’t make fun of him she said.
When Looee screamed, his lips pulled right back over his teeth. The men thought this was even funnier. When he pounded the ground and screamed and cried they had visions of everything ridiculous, of old women dressed as tarts, of children thinking they were strong and wise.
Looee ran at them and they pivoted out of the way and spilled their drinks. He kept running and picked up the weed trimmer and threw it at a tree. They registered his strength.
He ran back in their direction and his nails tore the grass as he sprinted.
He ran directly at Judy at first. She thought he was going to attack her.
The hairy one felt the ground hit the back of his head. He was winded and thought he had slept. He tasted blood when he was driving down the highway and asked his partner what the fuck just happened.
Walt had heard all the noise and ran out to tackle Looee, who was pounding and stomping on the man’s body. By chance he got his arm across Looee’s mouth before he could bite him between the legs.
When they couldn’t sleep that night, Walt said we’re just lucky they were workers. Rough-and-tumble. Anyone else and Looee wouldn’t be here.
Looee had bitten Walt’s arm, and Walt had hit him across the back, held his face down in the grass till Looee struggled out and ran up the tree.
Walt wrote a cheque for the landscapers, for two thousand dollars, for forgiveness, and none of the work was finished.
What kept Judy awake was the thought of Looee running towards her. Those men made fun of him, but he ran at her as well. She didn’t stand up for him.
There was no one she could explain that to except Walt.
I want to do the best for him she said.
She felt aware of other realities: that what she saw was not the whole truth, or what other people saw was simply not her truth. It was a lonely feeling.
fifteen
Burke has taken to bothering the women.
He used to make them proud. He used to do their bidding.
Some days they don’t see him. He sits in the grove and licks his teeth.
Whenever watermelon is thrown down from the roof of the Hard, he runs over everyone to get to it first. He knows Mama loves it and he taunts her with it. He knows she likes to eat it in the shady grove so he walks there first with the watermelon between his arm and belly.
Mama can’t believe it at first. She brings her fists down on Burke’s back and he drops the fruit and runs. He doesn’t scream or show much fear, but he runs.
He used to play with Bootie and show Bootie how much better he was at everything. Bootie followed him and mimicked all he did. They wandered away and Bootie felt nervous being out of sight of the others, but Burke never seemed nervous. They made fun of poogly Mr. Ghoul. They copied Podo’s gait. They wandered the edge of the World like the men did before bed.
No one else was welcome here, no one could break this unity.
But now Burke stays apart.
The next time he steals Mama’s watermelon she shouts. Through her feet she borrows the authority of t
he ground and she shouts inarguable justice in his ear. He feels as if he has been bitten and this time he screams in fear.
The next time he holds the great green fruit in his hands and runs around Mama and Fifi and Magda. He smashes the fruit on a rock and kicks pieces through the filth. They scream and pound the dirt and make a cloud. Burke walks and sits on his own and frowns like Podo at nothing on the ground.
He has been strong.
Fifi doesn’t know what to do. Burke is the burst and fruit of her chest, like Bootie is Magda’s and the new one is Mama’s. Everyone is Fifi’s. She hugs Mama to console her. She gathers pieces of the broken fruit.
She walks to Burke and grooms his long bluffing hair and he is calmed. He doesn’t know where to go so he lies on the ground in front of her and sighs, and her hand is on his shoulder.
Burke tries to join a skrupulus of Podo, Jonathan and Mr. Ghoul, but his bows are short and perfunctory as if he were an equal. None of the men will look him in the eyes and he knows he is not welcome. He sits apart and does not appear to care as much as he cares.
Bootie walks to Burke and Burke pushes him away.
Later Burke changes, puts his fingers in Bootie’s armpits, and colours are kind again. Bootie wants to look for squirrels, but they sit and smell the day.
Jonathan is watching Burke these days. He feels that if Burke is ever attacked he will defend him, depending on who attacks him.
Podo sleeps, awakes, and feels old.
The Hard closed down when Podo arrived. They tried to teach the machine to Podo but he couldn’t use it, couldn’t use the pictures like Dave couldn’t use the guitar and Mama couldn’t use the lighter.
They were bored until new games arrived.
¡Pong!
¡Pac-Man!
They tried to keep Mr. Ghoul using the machine but he attacked the Fool. They made a keyboard, a piece of hard paper with all the pictures on it, and now they could leave the Hardest and wander and Dave and Mr. Ghoul would talk. In each new room Mr. Ghoul thought he might see Julie saying where’s my Mr. Ghoul.
Mr. Ghoul was taken on trips to the woods with Dave. They roasted marshmallows and Mr. Ghoul got sick in the van.
