It was The Humanitarians belief that someone must grieve over the body, that every dead body deserves grief be spilled over it, and the body wasn’t concerned about who that griever was. It wasn’t the griever that was important, but the grief. The Humanitarians’ grief would be real. This was the most impressive thing about them. They somehow knew just how to manufacture sincerity.
The Humanitarians said nothing of what was actually becoming of Pie Time’s dead bodies downriver in Nun’s Hat. The death pyramid in Nun’s Hat was reviving the spirit and economy of that town, and The Humanitarians wanted to avoid being the reason that the people of Pie Time stopped sending their dead down The Cure.
The Humanitarians always, respectfully, sent a bill of service to the grieving. What they provided was indeed a service—no one was doubting that—and all services deserved to be paid for. It was with this money that The Humanitarians purchased Mano’s house from The Landlord, and it was with what remained of this money that they completely redecorated it in a way that reminded them more of what they were familiar with—white walls. All four rooms of Mano’s house were repainted in white.
Mano’s old house became unrecognizable to him, and it was unlike any other house in Pie Time. The Humanitarians even put abstract sculptures on the front lawn. One sculpture looked like the sun eating or giving birth to a baby. One looked like a bird with a broken wing, even though no one in Pie Time was really sure what a bird was.
Mano was just brushing the hairs off of the back of The Landlord’s neck and onto the floor.
“I brought a thing for you to hold,” said The Landlord.
“Thank you.” Mano’s voice was tired.
“You don’t mind getting any bigger do you?”
“It’s not really up to me,” explained Mano flatly. “What is it?”
“It’s a saw.” The Landlord reached down into his briefcase, and pulled out a saw. “The Humanitarians found it at your house. I mean, their house. She saw and he saw the saw.” The Landlord was pleased with both his joke and his gift.
“What was a saw doing in the house?” asked Mano.
“A lot of things were left in it, actually. It seems some squatters had been living there since you moved out. One of them died from God’s Finger. A saw came out of his hole.”
Mano accepted the saw reluctantly, and pushed it somewhere into the swelling and swirling mess of the bottom half of his body. He moved things around, and they clanked as they shifted. Accepting the saw felt like a betrayal somehow. It was the first thing that he held on his gigantic and lumbering body that he wasn’t so sure if he loved. It didn’t even look like a saw, exactly, but a sharp triangle of metal held by a rectangular piece of wood. It was born from the body of someone living where he was supposed to still be living.
With the addition of the saw, Mano’s body was becoming too big for Pie Time. In the most recent weeks he had been given a bicycle, a pitchfork, a metronome, a book of stamps, a set of golf clubs, a letter opener, a bicycle pump, a step ladder, and now a saw. Some of these things were given to him in exchange for free sheep as part of The Death Lessons, and some were given to him because he had become as known for being Pie Time’s receptacle of grief as he was known for being its butcher and barber. The things Mano held and loved were settling into his flesh. All that grief. Like a sweaty putty. The things Mano held and Mano’s body were now nearly indiscernible. Mano was mammother than ever before. Children began to point at him.
“Why is he so big?” some children would ask while pointing.
“Remember what I told you about Mano,” their parents’ would answer.
So, with that saw, Mano cut the doors in both of his businesses into double doors. The double doors of the barbershop and the butcher shop were the first ever double doors in Pie Time. Mano would no longer have to squeeze his body through the doors. He could simply push open both doors and walk in more gracefully, like everyone else, without drawing attention to his enormous body and the many things he held on it.
One afternoon, as Mano was closing the double doors of his barbershop for the day, two children Mano didn’t recognize pasted a poster on the front window. In big black letters, on white paper: WAR ON DEATH.
And at the very bottom of the poster, in black letters: XO.
“Excuse me,” Mano said. The two children paid no attention to him, and they kept pasting the poster. “Excuse me, but I’m sorry. You can’t just paste that poster anywhere you’d like. This is my barbershop. This is my barbershop window.”
“Then you take it down, mister. It’s your shop,” said one of the children.
The other one giggled as he looked at Mano. “Yeah, take it down, if you can find your own arms in all that fat.” At that, they ran through the alley behind the barbershop, having already pasted their posters on every window on Last Street. And they stapled the posters on all the poles.
“It’s not fat. It’s things,” Mano said to no one.
Mano looked down at the mess of his body, and then back up at all the white posters, all the black letters, The Humanitarians on the sidewalk across the street shaking hands with the people of Pie Time, no more death, no more death, save us from more death, and all the men in yellow construction hats building new buildings on the other end of Last Street, all their rising hammers, all their falling hammers.
Mano retreated back into his barbershop through the double doors, and locked them behind him. He walked directly into the back room.
War on Death. XO.
25.
Mitzi Let and The Butcher are each at one end of the table. Pepe is sitting across from Mano. The Butcher passes a loaf of bread to Mano.
“Do you want me to slice it?” asks The Butcher.
“No, thank you. I can slice it.”
“Do you want a knife to slice it?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll need a knife for that.”
Mitzi hands Mano a knife to slice the loaf. Mano slices the loaf.
“Do you want some butter?” asks Mitzi.
“Yes, please.”
The Butcher passes the butter to Mano.
“Do you want me to butter it for you?”
“No, thank you. I will butter it.”
“Do you want the kind of knife needed to butter it?”
“Yes, I’ll need that kind of knife.”
Mitzi hands Mano a knife to butter the slice. Mano butters the slice.
Mitzi uses her knife to cut her hand off.
“Would you like to eat my hand?”
“No, I would not like that. I would not like to eat your hand,” says Mano.
The Butcher pushes his knife into his mouth and cuts his tongue out. With his eyes, he asks Mano if Mano would want to eat his tongue. The Butcher holds his tongue up.
“No, sir. I would not like to eat your tongue. But thank you.”
Mitzi looks sad that Mano does not want to eat her hand or The Butcher’s tongue. “What more can we do for you than this?” she asks.
A black cloud spills out of Mitzi’s wrist, like ink underwater, and it spills out of The Butcher’s mouth, too.
Pepe doesn’t notice. He is looking upward instead.
“Your parents,” Mano pushes a whisper to Pepe in order to get Pepe’s attention.
“What are parents?” Pepe whispers back.
Above them are the hooves of a herd of animals. Everyone watches the animals moving. Their hooves move in big circles. Mano asks Pepe what kind of animal makes up the herd the hooves move in, but Pepe doesn’t know what kind of animal makes up the herd the hooves move in.
“Are you dead?”
Inez pushed Mano’s leg to be sure that he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead.
Mano had been sleeping below the black square on the floor of the back room of the barbershop for three days and three nights without waking up. His hulking pile of a body took over most of the floor. No one but Inez really understood why the barbershop and butcher shop were closed for three days, and she knew it
was best for Mano to finally get his sleep. With her key to the barbershop, she visited Mano on each of the three nights, even though she was sure he wouldn’t remember it. The first night, she found him inside the black square, half naked in the mud of a sheep’s pen. On the second night, she entered the black square, and couldn’t find him at all. On the third night of Mano’s sleep, Inez was worried he’d never re-enter the world. She stayed at home, but she couldn’t sleep. She was lonely, so she tried to sleep with Zuzu, curled up in the bassinet. Her neck and back ached. She used her key to the barbershop to let herself in.
“Am I?” Only Mano’s eyelids moved. “Am I dead?”
“No, you’re not dead.” Inez was bouncing Baby Zuzu in her arms while standing above Mano. “He’s not dead, is he Bebé?” Inez started to make a habit of calling Baby Zuzu, Bebé.
Because it had been Mano’s first sleep in nearly two months, it was less of a sleep than it was a correction of time in Mano’s cells. There was a point at which he remembered maybe seeing a house plant in a window, but he didn’t recognize the house plant. He remembers being at the bottom of the pond again, too, but also sitting at a table with Pepe and his parents.
Inez was cleaning Mano’s glasses in her hands with a cloth. She tried to imagine her husband wearing them before he died. He would’ve looked quite handsome, she thought. Mustache, glasses, and a balding head. A rigid jaw, and big ears. When she looked at Mano, despite his new very large size, she only saw a scared little boy. Her late husband’s glasses were still too big for his face. Still, she wanted to preen Mano as he lay there on the floor. She wanted to lighten his load, and lick his wounds. It felt good to have Mano in her days.
“What happened? How...?”
“We were naked in the mud in the sheep’s pen. It was raining.”
“Did we?”
“No.”
“You were on top of me...and we almost...but you fell asleep.”
“Oh, yes, yes, the pen of sheep and the mud. I remember. That was last night?” Mano rubbed his eyes.
“No, that was a few nights before. Today is Thursday.”
“Today is Thursday? Really? ”
“Really.” Inez was happy to see him waking, and she wanted him to remember what they did inside the black square a few nights before. “We were sinking in the mud, so I couldn’t quite find your body. It took hours to get all of you in my arms. I had to take off all of your stupid things by myself.”
“No, you should’ve...” Mano panicked.
“Mano, it was all I could do.”
Mano looked down at his body to see he was still holding so many things. “My things aren’t stupid.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I didn’t mean it like that. Your things aren’t stupid.”
Mano thought hard about all he must have missed while he slept. “But what about The Death Lessons? I missed The Death Lessons.”
“The children came, and I let them ride the sheep.”
“Did you kill the sheep for them?”
“No, I didn’t. It’s ok. The Death Lesson this week was that sometimes sheep don’t die. That’s what I told them. I told them that sometimes you just ride the sheep, and you go home.”
Mano thought hard about that particular lesson. That seemed like a good death lesson. Some days sheep don’t die. “And the barbershop...?”
“I put the closed signs up. You needed to rest.”
Mano groaned.
“By the way, you’re welcome,” prompted Inez.
Mano didn’t apologize for his tone, and just continued to groan. His body felt a little lighter. He looked down at his body again. Some things had clearly been cleaned while he slept, dusted, wiped down, maybe even licked clean. “What have you done?”
“Mano, you smelled. You needed to be cleaned. I didn’t throw anything away,” pleaded Inez. “I put it all back where you held it.”
Mano felt around his body for the things that he remembered holding there. He felt a few of the larger things, including the accordion. He turned the radio on and then back off again. The priest on the radio was saying something about forgiveness.
“It’s all here, right? So, it’s all still here?” Mano asked.
“Well, no. I did throw away a few things. Mano, the birthday cake was rotting.”
“It wasn’t your cake. I wish you wouldn’t have just thrown it away. I loved that cake.”
“You loved that cake?”
“Yes, I loved it.”
“I don’t know if you know what love is, Mano.”
“I do know what it is, and I loved that cake.”
“Mano, it was rotten.”
Mano didn’t want to keep talking about the cake, so he looked around for something else that was missing. “Where is the black poodle?”
“I gave it a bath.” Inez clapped her hands, and the black poodle waddled into the back room. It looked bigger to Mano, poofier.
“Ok, thank you for washing it. It looks a little like Curls now.” Mano was trying to calm himself down. He told himself it was ok that she threw away the birthday cake. And maybe a few other things. He felt a little lighter, cleaner. He breathed through his nose.
But then Mano felt the top of his head. “Inez, where are the birds?” Mano started to panic again.
“The animals on top of your head?”
“Yes, birds.”
“Birds! Oh, I tried to clean them, and you won’t believe what happened. They flew through the window. They flew. Did you know they could fly? It was very magical! They just...”
“They flew away?! Out of the window? Where did they go?”
“I don’t know where they went. They just flew away.”
“And you let them?”
Inez bounced Baby Zuzu higher and harder in her arms, and Baby Zuzu started to climb up Inez’s shoulder. “Mano, the way they flew, it makes me think that maybe those birds belong to the world, not to you. Do you know...”
Mano sat up and started gathering some of the cleaned things that had fallen around on the floor as he slept. He gathered them back into his arms, and between his legs, on his back, and around his neck. He grew bigger right there in front of Inez and Baby Zuzu.
“If you give some of the things to me,” suggested Inez, “I can keep them for you. I can clean them. Or I can...”
“No! I can’t. I can’t lose them.”
“I’ll hold them for you.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Mano suddenly wanted to be anywhere but his barbershop with Inez. He wanted to leave, though he wasn’t sure where he’d go. The last thing he needed to find was his leather boots, and he found them. “You wouldn’t understand...”
Inez spoke at the same time, “I wouldn’t understand?!”
Mano continued without any hesitation. “These things aren’t yours. I love them. They’re all I have left.”
Inez stared at Mano blankly while Baby Zuzu arched her back in order to wriggle out of Inez’s arms. Inez set Baby Zuzu down on the floor. She sat there silently while the two of them continued to raise their voices.
“These things, Mano. These things are all you have left?”
“Yes.”
Inez let out a sarcastic huh. She considered every word before she said it. “My pain is invisible to you.” She took a breath, and stepped closer to Mano. “But you love a rotten cake.”
“Inez, no...”
“Mano, I found a black telephone on Bebe’s face while she was sleeping in the barber shop the other night. It was on her face! Things come out of people’s dead bodies, and they somehow land on my daughter’s face!”
“Why didn’t you give it to me? You know how...”
“Mano!” Inez searched Mano’s enormous body for a few seconds to find the black telephone found in Nana Pine’s death hole that Enid Pine had left behind on Baby Zuzu in the barber shop. It had become one of Baby Zuzu’s favorite toys until Inez took it away from her to put on Mano’s body. Once Inez located it behind Mano’s r
ight knee, she threw the black telephone phone at him. “I did give it to you! And you didn’t even notice!”
The black telephone bounced off of Mano’s head, and the receiver fell onto the ground. Mano picked it up.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said the telephone.
Mano rubbed his head where a bruise was forming in the exact spot on his head where the birds had just flown from.
Then Inez said this: “Mano, give me back my husband’s glasses.”
Mano could see his mistake in her face. He shrunk down to a new size. Inez picked up Baby Zuzu from the floor with one arm. Baby Zuzu did not even give the tiniest whine. Inez held out her hand for the glasses, and Mano hesitated.
“I can’t see, Inez.”
Inez said nothing. She couldn’t look Mano in the eyes.
Mano took the glasses off of his face, and put them in Inez’s palm. He slowly made his escape out the front door of the barber shop.
Inez thought to warn him about what he’d find on Last Street outside of that door. Pie Time had changed dramatically in the three days Mano had been sleeping. But she decided not to mention it. She wanted only to let go of him, like releasing a pet pig, poor eyesight and all, into the woods of snapping and snarling sounds.
26.
The sun was bright. Mano thought Pie Time looked different because he couldn’t see the sharp edges of all its shapes without his glasses, but also because there were so many new unrecognizable shapes that he had never seen before. He walked up to each new shape and squinted at it until it came into focus.
While Mano slept, Pie Time had changed.
Across from Mano’s barbershop was a new barbershop called XO Haircuts. It had a row of five barber’s chairs, and had at least three barbers cutting hair simultaneously, like a factory of haircutting. Each XO haircut was over with very quickly, and there was very little waiting. XO Haircuts took reservations for their haircuts, and the customers were asked to show up on time. If the customers arrived early, they were offered a cup of coffee, which was always brewing in the coffeepot. And the XO barbers were trained to know more than one style of haircut. They were trained by XO Haircuts’ main barber to ask the customers what kind of haircut they wanted, and then the barbers were trained to cut it just like that. Already, Mano recognized a few of his customers walking around with different kinds of haircuts that he had never before seen. Some of the younger boys, for example, started wearing what Mano called the table-top. Mano didn’t really know how to cut hair into a table-top.
Mammother Page 13
