by Tom Howard
Okay, Kozma said. Well that’s a horrible story.
I said he was just trying to teach me.
Kozma said, Well he didn’t have to say it like that. Nobody has to talk to his boy like that.
I felt tired. Told Kozma I needed to lay down for a bit. He said goodbye to Bo and walked to the door, then realized he was still wearing Cape of Invisibility and started taking it off.
Keep it, I said.
He nodded and said thanks. Started to leave, then said, Maybe he was just having a bad day when he told you that. Maybe he didn’t mean it, and later on he regretted saying that to you.
I told him to be careful going home. Reminded him cars couldn’t see him due to Cape of Invisibility, and he smiled.
Sat alone for the rest of day, thinking.
Finally called kids. Margot touched by news, said I was always favorite uncle. Admitted she secretly imagined sometimes that she was my daughter, wondered what that would have been like. Maybe terrible, she said. Maybe better to only be a fantasy, to be able to say goodbye and feel this love for me as beloved uncle.
Philip confused, then disbelieving. Then overcome with emotion as he realized Kady would soon have arm wired directly to nervous system. Became friendlier, chatty. Told funny, heartwarming stories about Kady. Even asked about job at recycling plant, and about Bo.
We should get together, he said. For dinner.
I said I’d love that, but I knew he was busy.
He said that was nonsense. Pointed out that we lived five miles from each other. He said since my last day was Saturday, maybe we could have dinner on Friday at a nice restaurant in the city? I said that would be great, son.
Tried to lie down for a nap but the phone kept ringing. From cousins, neighbors, old friends. Just calling to thank me for my service. Such kindness from them, from all of them.
It was dark when the last call ended. Sat with Bo on the couch, staring at magic chest. Thought about what recruiter had said: set your affairs in order. Had an idea.
Walked with Bo to the Judge’s house. Kozma answered the door in his pajamas, still wearing cape.
I said I brought you something, if you want it. Showed him what I’d brought: magic chest, strapped to Philip’s old Radio Flyer wagon.
He backed up a step. Why? he said.
Judge appeared in the doorway and put his hand on Kozma’s shoulder. Tall, silver hair. Carved face, full of muscles. More muscles in face than I had in entire body. Introduced myself and tried to explain reason for appearance, but Judge stopped me and thrust giant granite hand toward me. An absolute honor to meet you, he said. Shook my hand and repeated: an absolute honor, sir!
Well, I said, looking down at his boy. Kozma confused, but happy. I said, I brought this for your boy. Just some old stuff I thought he might like.
Ah, said the Judge. Putting away childish things?
I said I guessed so. Kozma still beaming, eyes going back and forth. I said I had to get going, shook hands again with Judge. Waved at Kozma as I left.
Went home, feeling good. Spent next two hours in basement, throwing things away. Found some old toys from when kids were very young, set aside in box for Kady. Made list of things to give to charity, small list due to not having many things worth giving to charity. Finally turned off basement light, went upstairs to bed. Picked up Great Gatsby. Had been reading for months. Had always been slow reader, which now seemed unfortunate. Still, liked book. Hoping things worked out for Gatsby, Daisy.
Woke up before the dawn, earliest I’d been awake in years. Got dressed and walked outside with Bo as the sky changed color. Sat in field at Civil War park and watched the sun come up over the trees. Dawn wind rustled the leaves, washing over me and Bo. Cried a little. Just tired, probably. Just a little tired.
Spent much of day clearing out house and taking breaks to read Gatsby. Took Bo out after dinner and saw Kozma in field at Civil War park again. Not flying kite this time, just sitting in grass, wearing Cape of Invisibility. I waved until he saw me but he stormed off into the trees. Later, found a note under the front door.
My dad told me what you did. I think I hate you right now but I’m not sure because I’m pretty bad upset. But maybe I hate you. K.
* * *
On Monday I showed up early at work.
Why are you here? Toby asked.
I said I couldn’t sleep.
No, he said. Why are you here at all? You ought to be celebrating! He shook his head. If I were you I’d never stop drinking and getting blowjobs and screaming. And maybe doing cocaine. I’d be doing all those things twenty-four hours a day until they shot me full of dope and I was dead.
I said I didn’t think anyone really wanted to give someone a blowjob when he’s screaming and doing cocaine, and Toby said he knew someone who did. I said thanks but I just wanted to go to work. He shrugged and said, Okay, weirdo!
Spent rest of day writing copy for company website and blog. Exciting time due to recent acquisition of new twin screw extruder, although excitement offset by last month’s explosion. Tough job, balancing excitement versus overwhelming grief. Handed first draft to Mitch, senior web copywriter.
Whatever, Mitch said. Threw story in garbage. I hear you’re going to die, he said.
We’re all going to die, I said.
Whatever. Hope there’s a good reason.
I told him about Kady’s wooden arm, et cetera.
A suicidal four-year-old with a wooden arm, he said. That’s great. What’s the real reason?
I said I needed to get back to work.
Later, saw Meg in break room. She walked toward me and I assumed she didn’t see me as usual, so I jumped out of the way, crashed into vending machine.
She said, I know you hate me, but you don’t have to jump like that. My cloudy eye isn’t going to eat you. I heard what you’re doing, and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I horrified you so much with my cloudy eye.
I rubbed my shoulder and tried to say that was all wrong, that I loved her cloudy eye. But she shook her head before I could finish and said there was no point denying it. Said she could tell by the weird thing I did with my mouth whenever I looked her in the cloudy eye. I said that was just the way I smiled and I showed her, and she said, Oh, Jesus, well that explains it.
Well, I said.
We both looked down at our feet.
Maybe in the next life, ha ha, I said.
She said, That’s just really sad. Why would you make a joke like that?
I said I was just uncomfortable because I didn’t know what to say.
So that’s okay, she said. You don’t have to know. You can just not say anything sometimes.
I blinked, said nothing.
Well okay, she said. Goodbye, I guess.
* * *
Tried to enjoy my last week on earth. But worried about Kozma. Worried he was angry with me, thought less of me for decision.
Woke up before dawn each morning. Not sleeping anyway. Went out with Bo each day to sit in the field and watch sunrise. Then, when sunrise was over, felt moment of great peace. Followed by moment of paralyzing terror. Tried to focus on first thing.
Read Gatsby in the evenings. Felt love for all of them, even Daisy, who was crazy. Why cry about shirts? But made sense, too, didn’t it? Had to admit pile of beautiful shirts on bed was maybe saddest thing in the world. Such fragile people. A little worried wasn’t going to finish the book but didn’t want to read any faster. Maybe didn’t totally want to get to the end either.
Took Bo out for walks in the evening and kept eye out for Kozma. No sign of him, but on Wednesday I noticed flyers pinned up around the neighborhood. Stopped and read one.
EXPERIENCE TERROR AND DELIGHT
WITH KOZMA THE MAGNIFICENT!
SAT 10 A.M., FREE OF CHARGE
3902 LIBERTY COURT
(BACKYARD SHED, KNOCK TWICE)
Someone had written FUCKFACE! in marker through the middle of the flyer, so I pulled it down. Folded it and pu
t it in my pocket, took Bo home.
Stopped at bank after work on Thursday and withdrew cash. Bank teller recognized me and smiled. Going out with a bang? she said. I smiled back. At home, found a bag and stuffed most of cash inside. Not a fortune, but it was something. Walked down path that led beneath the bridge. Bridge Guy was huddled up in sleeping bag, and I didn’t want to wake him. Left bag on the ground along with note: Thank you for your service.
On Friday I called Philip to make sure we were still meeting for dinner. He didn’t answer, but I went to the restaurant anyway. Waited for an hour. Ordered a drink, first drink all week. Called him again, still no answer. Had another drink, then left.
House was dark when I got home. Thought I’d left the light on for Bo. Unlocked the door and stepped inside and the whole place came to life. Live music playing, confetti everywhere. Filled with people, smiling faces everywhere, everyone stepping forward to shake my hand. Everyone laughing, pouring champagne. Giant blown-up photograph of me on easel in living room, surrounded by flowers.
Margot kissed me, and I put my head down. Shaken.
Sorry I missed dinner, Philip said.
Asked if Kady was here and he said, Sorry, she had a thing tonight, but she really wanted to come. But she says you’re the greatest!
I hugged him tight.
Party was wonderful, dreamlike. Toby and Meg showed up from work, and the Stintons and the Quincys were both there. Lots of singing, children running from room to room. Didn’t know who they were, but nice to see anyway. Toby played “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” on harmonica while the whole room sang along. Everyone so kind and grateful. Thank you, they said, over and over. Thank you, Mike.
When the party ended, sat in backyard with Margot and Philip. World glowed under a full moon. We talked in low voices about their childhood, about things they remembered. About little things that didn’t mean anything. I told them about reading Gatsby, and Margot asked what I thought so far, and I said I liked it very much. She said me too, and then she stared at the ground and was quiet for a long time.
Dreamed that night about my dad and The Grand Adventure. Hands shaking as I showed him the drawing. Knew it was good but wanted him to love it. Wanted it to fill him with wonder, I guess, like in an after-school television special. Could almost hear soaring after-school-special piano music playing, in dream. Then he took drawing in his hands and tore it to pieces and stomped off to his bedroom.
I picked up the pieces and went down the hall. Not a kid anymore in the dream. Just me, just tired middle-aged man. Pushed the door open and found him sitting on edge of bed with his face in his hands. I wanted to say something to him then, maybe put arm around him. But I didn’t. Pulled the door shut and let him be.
* * *
I woke up groggy, staring into Bo’s face, Bo hopping from leg to leg, impatient. Checked the clock and said, Shit. Missed the sunrise.
Later, outside with Bo, stepped on another of Kozma’s flyers. Checked watch and said shit again, then raced over to the Judge’s house.
Went around back and didn’t see anyone, so walked over to big shed in the back. Looked at watch—10:10. I knocked twice.
Kozma answered. Wearing black pajamas, black T-shirt, and Cape of Invisibility.
He looked up at me. Nobody came, he said.
We came, I said. Bo and me.
Kozma said, Well you might as well come in. He’d set up a small wooden platform in front of an old sofa. I sat down with Bo. He flipped off the lights and stepped onto platform, shone flashlight up at his face. Gave little introduction about all this being illusion, about how we should suppress natural instinctive terror we in the audience may feel, et cetera.
Started with Four Burglars. Nice little story from Kozma, said jacks only became burglars due to grievous oppression. Terrible commotion after king’s men alerted, jacks had to escape to castle roof for helicopter escape. At the end he turned over first three cards to reveal burglars. Last card was eight of hearts instead of jack of spades. Felt heart sink for him because he’d practiced so much. But Kozma shrugged and said maybe fourth burglar fell in love with two of clubs and decided to stick around.
After that he did variations of Miser’s Dream and Gypsy Thread and French Drop and a few more card tricks. Asked for volunteer each time, pretended to pick me out of crowd. You, sir, with the dog. Told crazy story during each trick, always with odd, sweet twist. So Miser also lonely werewolf saving up money to buy shoes for son’s wedding, kept destroying shoes each full moon due to werewolf transformation. And Gypsy long-lost daughter of King of Hearts, who had just been robbed by Four Burglars. Et cetera. Everything linked together in funny, sad way.
At the end he brought out the Orange Tree.
I held my breath, and Kozma smiled. I didn’t figure it out, he said. But for a second you believed I did, right?
Laughed and said he was already a better magician than I ever was.
I’ll get better, he said. Next time. Then he looked away and started cleaning up his little stage. I asked him if he’d take Bo for me. He stopped and stared at me, thinking. Then said, You can’t leave until you find a home for him, right?
I said that was true, and he said, Then no.
Okay, I said. I understand. Well I should go, son.
Don’t know why I called him that. Walked to the door of the shed and Bo trotted after me, but Kozma stopped us.
Okay, he said. I’ll watch after him. Somebody’s got to, right?
I said that was true.
Just go, he said. Don’t say goodbye or else I’ll change my mind.
I left. When I got home, reached into pocket for keys. Found jack of clubs, with two words written across the top.
BYE MIKE.
* * *
Spent last few hours thinking, reading. Realized at five o’clock I didn’t have time to finish Gatsby so called Margot to ask how it ended but she didn’t answer. Then called Philip. He answered but said he was running out, asked if it was important. I said no, not really. I said to tell Kady goodbye for me, and he said he’d already done that.
Finally went to get dressed. Wasn’t totally sure what was appropriate but didn’t want to look like slob. Settled on khakis, clean shirt, navy blazer from college. Examined self in mirror. Looked like I was going to dinner on cruise ship.
Drove very slowly. Each mile slower than the last.
Thinking about Philip. Hated weakness so much. Hated to be poor, to have nothing, to be nothing. Never understood how much he hated it. Should have done more somehow. Thought there had to be something more I could give, more than this. Philip just fucked up kid, now fucked up adult. Margot too. My fault. Made too many mistakes. Didn’t realize I only got one chance to be a good dad. No one tells you: only one chance. Too late now maybe. But why? Why would it ever be too late to be good? To fix things?
Cars piling up behind me, honking.
I pulled over to shoulder.
More honking, screaming.
Called recruiter’s office.
The man of the hour! he said.
Hypothetically, I said, what happens if I don’t show up?
He set the phone down for a few seconds. Heard him talking to someone else in the office. Then: I don’t think I heard you, Mike. The connection? Is kind of bad?
I’m not doing it, I said.
He said that he had to advise me against that course of action. Reminded me that once six o’clock rolled around, I would technically be dead. He said, Do you really want to be a Runner? Put your family through that? They won’t see a dime of the bounty when you’re hunted down.
I said there has to be some other way.
You signed a contract, he said. He put the phone aside again, said something else I couldn’t hear. Then: Look, let’s go over the options in person. How about you swing by?
I said I thought there weren’t any options.
Ha ha, he said. Where are you exactly?
I hung up. Called Philip back, tried to expl
ain. You’ve got to be kidding, he said, right? Have you forgotten Kady? Just last night, for the love of God, Dad, the stump infection—
I said I knew Kady wasn’t real. He’d made her up the same way I’d made Janet up. I told him I wasn’t mad. Just tell me, I said. Tell me what’s going on. We can figure it out. Trust me, son.
Well, he said. Jesus, wow, Dad. Of course, that’s the answer, not sure why I didn’t see that before. I’m sure I can work things out with my business acquaintances now that I know I can trust you! Not sure why I didn’t realize that before, instead of wasting my time hating your guts and waiting for you to die.
Philip, I said, there’s a way out. I can help you. That’s what fathers do. He made a sound that was like a snort, except also terrible and sad. Then hung up on me.
Pulled car into Lucky’s and went inside. Shaken by conversation with Philip, just needed to sit and figure things out. Checked wallet and realized money was gone, but bartender smiled and said no charge for me. A true honor to meet me, he said.
I groaned.
The TV flashed with a news update. My face, alongside graphic showing stick figure running from giant fist holding scales of justice. Scales of justice filled with crying stick children. Newsperson explained bounty rules, full payout to whoever took me down, et cetera. Good luck, he said, and Godspeed.
Bartender reached slowly under bar, and I fled.
Took some time to get back to my neighborhood. People out in the streets with guns, knives, torches. Not sure why torches. But had to stay in shadows, follow back roads. Finally came to my street. Growing dark, melancholy skies. Maybe just imagination. Or maybe skies always looked that way, not sure.
Saw house and stopped. Shadows moving on the front porch. Stinton, maybe, and Quincy. Metal flashed in the lamplight.
