by Rudy Yuly
Tonight he also carried something else: a videotape called Funniest Ads of the ’70s, which he’d ordered from a late-night television ad. It had arrived a week earlier, but he’d been waiting for just the right moment to spring it on Eddie, which was going to be a little tricky. But just as Joe had predicted, the Mariners lost. That, along with today’s successful job and the good news about Jolie, made Joe figure that tonight was about as good as it was going to get.
No one knew better than Joe how much Eddie could resist change. But it was Joe’s responsibility to take care of his little brother. Eddie had been obsessed with the Sparkle and Shiny Gold commercials ever since Joe could remember. Although it did have the benefit of keeping Eddie occupied most evenings, Joe had never liked it.
There was no particular reason that Joe could put his finger on for his irritation. Eddie went through phases. Sometimes all he wanted to do was read. He’d ask to go to the library, and come home with either a whole pile of books or a single thick, impenetrable-looking volume. Honestly, Joe didn’t pay enough attention to know if they were history texts, math books, romance novels, or what. One detail he did notice was that Eddie never seemed to check out paperbacks, because Joe had to return them, and the hardbacks Eddie preferred were damn heavy. Sometimes Eddie would plow through a huge stack in less than a week. Whether or not he was really reading them was an open question. Other times, Joe would catch his brother staring at the same page for an entire evening.
When a book phase ended, a Shiny Gold and Sparkle phase would invariably begin. Night after night. It could go on for weeks, or even months. This time, it had been nearly three months, and it was really starting to bug Joe. He couldn’t say why, but the commercials had always kind of creeped him out. They couldn’t be good for Eddie. He certainly wasn’t learning anything. If Joe could start moving Eddie in a new direction, convince him to try watching something new, it would be an improvement. And Joe had a selfish motive. The commercials seemed to affect Joe physically, making him feel weak and sick. He could hardly stand going down to the basement when Sparkle and Shiny Gold were holding their sway over Eddie, night after night after night.
Tonight, Joe was doing his best to be cool. He handed Eddie the popcorn, blew away the ash that had just fallen off his cigarette, and put Eddie’s last can of Sparkle on the coffee table. Eddie was rewinding.
“I got you a present, Eddie. It’s a video of, like, a million old commercials.” Joe tried his best to sound excited about it.
Eddie didn’t look at him, which wasn’t unusual. But Eddie didn’t start his tape over immediately, either.
“Really, Eddie, these are great. They’re all funny.”
Eddie didn’t seem to have any response. Encouraged, Joe walked over, bent down, and popped Eddie’s ancient tape out of the VCR. He had to fiddle around trying to get the new one going, though. He was horrible with anything mechanical.
Eddie’s leg began to bounce up and down, an unmistakable warning. But Joe hoped against hope that once the new commercials started, Eddie would be happily hypnotized.
“Really, it’s cool. Just give it a try, Eddie. That’s all I’m asking.”
Joe was still trying to get the tape to play when Eddie picked up his final can of Sparkle, popped it open, poured it over his head, and mechanically rubbed his wet curly hair with his hand. When this didn’t get Joe’s attention, he reached out and knocked his popcorn all over the floor.
“Shiny Gold, Joe,” he said. His face reddened, but his expression and tone didn’t change.
Joe finally turned and saw the mess. “Damn it, Eddie. Okay, I’m sorry. Jeez, just stop, Eddie. Don’t move.”
Frantically, clumsily, Joe replaced Eddie’s tape and hit play. He was torn between remorse and a nearly irresistible impulse to slap his brother upside the head.
He didn’t have to. Eddie started to slap himself. Not particularly hard, but over and over. This wasn’t nearly as bad as it could get, but it was an extremely critical warning sign. When Eddie really lost it, there was nothing Joe could do except try to keep his brother from hurting himself, try not to get hurt himself, and help Eddie clean up the mess afterward. It hadn’t happened for years, but it was always something random like this that triggered it—and it could get seriously ugly fast if Joe didn’t nip it in the bud.
The Shiny Gold commercial started again. Joe, breathing heavily, turned around, planning his next move.
“Eddie. Look! Look.”
Eddie looked, and the slapping stopped immediately.
Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “Grab your remote.”
Eddie obeyed.
“Breathe. Eddie! Breathe.”
“Uh-huh. Okay,” Eddie said, softly. Sparkle dripped from his thick brown hair. He licked some off his lip.
Eddie felt compassion for Joe. Even after all their years together, Joe could never quite understand what was at stake, what was being held together by Eddie’s sacred, delicate routines. Eddie had to do a lot more work than he should to keep everything in order.
Still, Eddie loved Joe. And to his credit, Joe didn’t know what had happened at the job today. Eddie needed a powerful distraction and powerful comfort tonight. He had no reserve left for anything new.
Next to cleaning, taking care of Joe was one of the most important priorities in Eddie’s life. He knew how dependent on him his big brother was for almost everything that mattered. But Eddie didn’t want Joe to screw things up with his clumsiness, no matter how well-meaning he might be. Especially not tonight.
Today was a glitch that had to be overcome. Because things were going to change tomorrow. And it was going to be a change that Eddie chose.
It was too late now, of course, Eddie realized. Things were too far out of whack to go on as normal. For one thing, the floor was a mess. Not good. Eddie held very still for a moment and let his concern for Joe help him find a way to navigate this suddenly sticky situation.
It took a moment, but by the time Joe spoke Eddie had almost figured it out.
“Can we just go get you cleaned up?” Joe sounded tentative, kind of scared.
“Uh-huh. Okay.” To show that there were no hard feelings, and also because he couldn’t help it, Eddie knelt and mechanically scooped the spilled crushed popcorn back into the bowl.
“Let’s just go get you cleaned up.” Joe was pushing a little too much, but once the floor was clear of popcorn, Eddie stood up, calm.
“Eddie, I d-d-don’t think it’s good for you to watch nothing but Sparkle and Shiny Gold,” Joe stuttered. He was concerned about how Eddie might react, but he said it anyway.
Eddie knew Joe had just communicated something significant, but it wasn’t anything Joe said. Eddie sensed his brother’s love, his fear, and his anger. Joe always stuttered when he was trying his hardest. He knew Joe wanted to make a connection, however awkward and mistaken he might be. Fear and anger were emotions that Eddie himself didn’t feel, but he had become exquisitely sensitive to the subtle and not-so-subtle clues Joe and others gave when they were feeling them.
Eddie looked at Joe’s face. Not in the eye, but close. “Joe,” he said. “Stop.” It meant Eddie was trying to process something and needed a moment to be still.
Joe waited. After thirty long seconds, Eddie was ready.
“Okay, Joe,” he said finally. “Bedtime.”
It was a major concession. For Joe’s sake, Eddie had decided to turn off his commercials and get ready for bed, even though it was twenty-six minutes before the appointed time.
Tomorrow was zoo day. But Joe already knew how important that was to Eddie. This time it was more than that, much more. Something had been building up inside Eddie for a while now, getting stronger and surer. He was determined to do something about it tomorrow.
“Go away, Joe.”
“You’ll shower?”
“Uh-huh. Okay.”
Joe looked as though he was going to say more. Then he lit a cigarette, grabbed his tape, and headed up the st
airs.
“’Night, Joe,” Eddie said when he reached the top.
Joe stopped and turned around.
“Okay, Eddie. Good night.”
Eddie was glad to be alone. There were going to be big big changes, and he needed to have a productive sleep. The most important thing about sleep was that it was when his dreams came. The dreams were his guides. He couldn’t replay them in a linear way, but almost every morning an impression would remain, vivid and meaningful. Often the sensation was more powerful than the strongest déjà vu. At times a dream phrase or image would overlay itself on everything Eddie’s senses put in his path during the day. Sight, smell, and touch; everything was colored by Eddie’s dreams. In fact, the rare night Eddie didn’t dream would invariably result in a sick day.
Tonight, Eddie was fighting to keep Jolie’s lovely face firmly in his mind. His mother was making it a challenge, trying to come in, more of a vague unpleasant impression than a thought. Then there was Lucy. She ran around his head like a kid lost in the mall, trying to find her mom and dad. The images were troubling and insistent, but he was able to keep them far back. His thoughts for Jolie were much stronger. His pillow was cool and comforting.
Tomorrow, if everything went well, he would start to let Jolie know how he felt about her. He stretched out straight under the blankets on his couch, closed his eyes, and drifted off instantly.
He was in the big Victorian on Queen Anne Hill. He was six years old. He floated into the room and stretched out his arms, and blackened blood dissolved and disappeared beneath him. The spirits of the dead began to stir and stretch, freed from the frozen bitter spite that held them. They wafted up with lovely iridescence and hovered near Eddie.
The little girl was there, and she smiled and waved, safe between her parents. Then she and her parents flitted on and up, right through the ceiling, and Eddie sailed out after them, going his own way.
The Sparkle Soda music began and the sun glinted everywhere, spreading warm magic.
Little Eddie and grown-up Jolie, dressed in ’70s clothes, floated side by side through an old-fashioned zoo, where Kodachrome animals lived happily in antique circus cages.
Jolie sipped, content, at her green bottle of Sparkle.
The announcer said, “Nothing brings out the fun like Sparkle. Its lemony goodness takes you places you’ve never been before!”
The singing started. “Sparkle … Shine your love light, Sparkle! You got the taste we love, that’s why we love to love you when you love to Sparkle.”
Little Eddie and Jolie strolled to an old-fashioned cage. A huge tiger leaped at the bars and roared. Jolie, startled, drifted into Little Eddie, brushed against him.
Eddie reached out, and Jolie reached out, and they held hands. Amazingly, her touch didn’t make him the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, Jolie’s hand felt good. Amazing, safe, and warm.
Little Eddie held Jolie’s hand, and the sensation was rich and interesting. He looked at her face, and she was Jolie and Mom and Lucy all together. But somehow the combination was not disturbing; he and Jolie seemed to be giving and receiving information without words.
Little Eddie lifted his beautiful bottle of Sparkle. It glittered like a diamond. Hundreds of beautiful blue wisps floated up around them, brushing against their skin with rainbow sparks, as they floated off into the glorious unknown.
“You never know what might happen when you Sparkle!” the announcer said. “You never know!
Then Eddie felt a tugging at his pant leg and a cold feeling washed through him. He looked around and there was Lucy looking up at him. She seemed to be sinking into the earth although her distance from him never changed. Her face looked swollen with disappointment and her eyes brimmed with tears that never did fall.
“You never know,” Eddie said.
“Yes you do.” Lucy Silver mouthed the words but there was no sound.
Chapter 11
Saturday
At 8:59 a.m. Joe was out cold, snoring like a buzz saw, sprawled on top of his covers in his boxer shorts. A copy of Baseball Digest was draped over his face, and the ashtray on the nightstand was overflowing.
His folded pants sailed across the room, knocking the magazine from his face.
He coughed and sat up groggily. Eddie stood at the foot of the bed, neatly dressed, holding out a hot cup of coffee.
Joe lit a smoke. He was tired and a little hung over, as much from all the crappy television as from the six-pack he’d polished off. He swung his feet wearily to the floor and took his coffee from Eddie.
“Thanks.” He reached over and grabbed his cell to check the time.
Eddie looked at his brother. He knew Joe felt crummy. This might be a good time to make his point.
“Cab, Joe.”
“No, Eddie. I’m driving you, bro. I don’t want you to go by yourself.”
“Mrs. Kim’s.”
Joe let Eddie walk the four blocks to Mrs. Kim’s corner store alone to buy his Shiny Gold. The cleaner had been out of vogue for years and most stores didn’t even carry it anymore. But Mrs. Kim, a friendly, blowsy, 50-something blonde, had an infallible source. She kept a constant supply in her tiny store, pretty much just for Eddie.
“Mrs. Kim’s store is different, Eddie,” Joe said. “It’s closer. It’s a lot closer. And it’s walking. Not taking a cab. I’m telling you Eddie, you’d freak out if I let you do that.”
Eddie took a moment to answer. “You never know, Joe.”
“Forget about it, Eddie. We’ll talk about it another time. Today, I’m driving you.”
Eddie turned and left the room. Recently, he’d become convinced that it was wrong for Joe to insist on driving him to the zoo. It wasn’t fair that Joe could go wherever he wanted and Eddie couldn’t. Eddie hadn’t planned on making an issue of it this morning, but something about his dream pulled at him. It was leading him for sure. And right now it made him want to press the point.
It was tough for Eddie. He had to take care of Joe all the time, walking him through rituals he should be totally comfortable with. Joe couldn’t seem to get it, always trying to change stuff that needed to stay the same, like last night. When it really was time for something to change—like today—Joe would hang on to it with all his might.
Eddie knew it was only a matter of time before he would be able to make his way to the zoo on his own. Maybe it wouldn’t be today, but he would at least make his point. Joe might be stubborn, but when you’re right, you’re right. And Eddie was right.
The cab debate had been simmering for more than a month. Joe had started it unintentionally.
One Saturday on the way home from the zoo the van broke down. Joe got out and fiddled noisily and aimlessly under the hood. After five minutes he gave up, leaned against the side of the van, and smoked a Pall Mall with greasy fingers. Then he climbed back into the van, where Eddie sat placidly.
“The van’s busted,” Joe said.
“I know,” Eddie replied.
“I can’t fix it, okay?” Joe was loud.
“Uh-huh,” Eddie said. “Okay.”
“Just don’t freak out on me, okay, Eddie?” Joe yelled. “Just don’t!”
Eddie looked out the side window. He didn’t say anything. He was thinking about how much Joe reminded him at that moment of what little he remembered about their dad.
Joe rolled down his window and smoked another Pall Mall. After ten minutes, he said, “I’m going to have to call a tow truck. They’re going to come and take the van to the shop. Okay?”
“Uh-huh. Okay.”
“Darn right. Listen, Eddie,” Joe went on, taking a deep breath, “I’m going to have to call a cab to come and take us home. It’s just a car, okay? I need you to help me out here. When it gets here, I want you to please, please, just get in and sit down. It’s just g-g-going to take us home.”
Eddie wondered why Joe was making such a big deal about it. “Okay, Joe,” he said.
“P-p-promise me, Eddie.”
&n
bsp; Joe sounded serious. Eddie hesitated. “Okay,” he said, looking out his own window. He didn’t like to make promises. They were serious business. But this one seemed small and important to Joe.
Joe made the call, and the tow truck came within twenty minutes. Eddie enjoyed watching the van get hooked up. It was a very interesting procedure.
A few minutes later the cab came. Eddie had seen cabs plenty of times. He definitely knew what they were for, but like most other things he didn’t deal with directly, cabs were filed under “miscellaneous” in his brain, a category that didn’t get much notice.
As he focused his attention on a real cab for the first time, Eddie suddenly realized what Joe was concerned about. The thing was quite new and strange. In fact, it was nothing at all like riding in the van. Despite himself, Eddie was gripped by a sudden powerful urge to rebel. He hadn’t ridden in any vehicle that Joe hadn’t been driving for a long time. But just then, an even stronger force asserted itself.
Joe looked at Eddie. “You promised,” he said quietly.
“Man-sized mess.”
“A promise is a promise.”
Eddie knew Joe had him. Eddie reminded himself to breathe.
Joe opened the back door and waited. Eddie hesitated.
“It’s going to be okay, Eddie. I promise.”
Eddie put his bag on the ground, pulled out his sunglasses, and put them on. Picking up his bag, he swallowed his anxiety and climbed into the cab.
The remarkable part was that once he got past his initial hesitation and forced himself to breathe regularly, Eddie found the cab ride pleasant, even relaxing. There were hardly any of the jerking stops and near misses that characterized Joe’s driving.
As they drove home and Eddie looked out the window, he momentarily forgot Joe was even there. The ride was so smooth that he found himself drifting, and he began mechanically rubbing his arm, back and forth, back and forth. It didn’t feel like being in a vehicle at all.
Then Eddie realized where he was and what he was doing. The realization started a powerful cascade of thoughts. By the time the brothers reached their little white house, the thoughts had coalesced into a powerful, potentially life-changing revelation: Eddie didn’t need Joe to get around. He could, given the opportunity and the right amount of mental preparation, take a cab.
