Mano had stopped collecting the things that came out of everyone’s death holes, but this did not mean that he had stopped being a receptacle for everyone’s grief.
Mano was never visited by Inez before either. But she had always had some sort of spell over him, and that spell never dissipated. When Mano saw her in his gigantic doorway, he immediately felt the need to pour himself into her strong arms, but he also became overly aware of his size, of himself as a spectacle. He hadn’t seen Inez in 16 years either, and he realized only then, when he saw her again, that he missed her.
Inez, though, showed no obvious signs of missing Mano.
“Are they? They were hanging on the line behind your cabin. It’s funny. My daughter has a pair of brown corduroy trousers just like these.”
“Inez, would you like to come inside?” Mano walked past Inez and began unlocking the front door.
“They’re still wet, Mano.”
“It’s starting to rain, Inez.”
“I know you used to wear trousers just like these. I doubt they’d fit you anymore though.” Inez strained her neck backward so she could see all of Mano at once when she said that. “Maybe she got her fashion sense from you, watching you when she was just a baby.”
“Inez.”
“Are these her underwear?!” Inez folded the trousers over her forearm and held Zuzu’s underwear in front of her own face. “She has a pair of skivvies just like these.”
“If you’re looking for your daughter, she’s not here.” Mano pushed open the front door to his cabin with his foot. It made a low long creak as it swung. He set the groceries on the large table. He put some of the things into the refrigerator first, adjusting the cord that held the door there. Then he put away some of the things onto the shelves in the cabinet.
“Is she in there?”
“No. Would you please come in?”
“No.”
“Ok.” Mano kept the door open, even though the rain was getting his floor wet. He was afraid of saying something that would bring any punishment upon Zuzu. Inez stayed outside in the rain. Mano decided he would wait for her next question. He would truthfully answer whatever she asked. While he waited, he cracked open a warm can of Nun’s Hat. He started chopping the carrots for his soup. The question never came. He could hear Inez crying outside his door, and then he couldn’t hear her at all.
As he started to heat the soup, he asked Inez if she’d like a warm beer. She didn’t respond.
Mano felt so much weight in the silence outside his door. He thought maybe any information he could put into that silence would lighten it. “She was here yesterday. And the day before.”
Still, Inez said nothing.
Mano continued from inside his cabin. “She was just walking in the woods. She wanted to see something else, Inez, that’s all. She feels like she’s missing something, and she just wanted to find something, anything, as long as it wasn’t the same thing she’s been looking at her whole life. She saw me, and I saw her. She was tired. She slept here. We talked about things. She’s growing up. Don’t you remember what that’s like? She’s scared, just like anyone else.” Mano looked out at Inez, who wasn’t moving. He kept going. “Anyway, she went back into town this morning. She’s back down there somewhere. She’ll be fine. She’ll be home when you get home. I’m sure of it.” Mano stirred the carrots around in the water. “Inez, do you remember when she was just a baby, how she would...”
Inez walked in through the door, but didn’t attempt to shut it behind her. Her hair and clothes were wet, and she was still holding Zuzu’s wet clothes in her hand. She was looking at Mano differently than before. She was looking at Mano how she looked at him when he was just a boy. “How she would what?”
“How she would...” Mano couldn’t remember what he was going to say.
“What do you think you remember? You don’t know much. You don’t know what you think you know.”
“No, I suppose...”
“What do you think you know about Zuzu? What do you think you know about me?”
“I don’t know anything. I don’t...” Mano stammered.
“I’m married now. Did you know that?”
“No. I didn’t.” Mano didn’t see the point of explaining the things he recently learned about her. “Congratulations.”
“Stop, Mano. I’m married to The Barber.” Inez looked at Mano for a reaction. “Do you think that’s funny?”
Mano shook his head to say no, it wasn’t that funny.
“Well, I think it’s funny,” she said, but she wasn’t laughing. “Zuzu thinks it’s funny, that’s for sure.”
“Well, I don’t,” Mano confirmed.
Inez put her face in her hands and spoke into them. “What do you want with my daughter? Whatever it is, you can’t have it.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Does she love you?”
Mano let out a little laugh to say no, then shook his head.
“Was that funny?”
“No.”
“Well, she doesn’t love you, Mano. She loves The Butcher. Did she tell you that?”
Mano stayed quiet. He was quickly beginning to realize how little Inez knew about her own daughter.
Inez took a brave breath and continued. “Don’t you love me anymore?”
“Inez, look, would you like some soup? It will be ready soon enough. Have a seat. We can eat together.”
“I don’t want any soup.” Inez climbed up into one of Mano’s chairs around his kitchen table. Her feet couldn’t quite reach the floor. She had a blank stare as she reached into a little pocket in her skirt. Inez pulled out her first husband’s old glasses and set them on the table. “I thought I’d return these.”
“It’s been so long, Inez.”
“I thought you’d need them.”
“I don’t. It’s ok. Thank you, but it’s ok.” Mano taught himself, over the years, how to squint just right. He knew how to squint strongly enough. He learned to see the world as he saw it. “They’re too small for me now.”
Inez looked disappointed. They were silent for a moment.
“I don’t love him,” Inez said. “The Barber, I mean.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be with him.”
“Is that what you would want?”
Mano didn’t answer her. The answer would have been, of course, no.
Inez repeated her question.
“The soup is going to boil over,” Mano said.
“Let it boil.”
“I can’t,” said Mano. “I’ll make you a bowl, ok?”
Inez stood up by the kitchen table, her shoulders slumped. Her body didn’t know exactly where or how to be in Mano’s cabin. She didn’t want to leave, exactly, she only wanted to not be seen.
Mano used the ladle to scoop two bowls of soup, and he set them both on the table.
Inez began to disappear. Only a little at first.
Mano squinted at her. She could still, just barely, be seen. Then she could be seen through. He pulled out his own chair on the opposite side of the kitchen table and scooted himself in, and started to eat his soup.
“Inez, you’re disappearing,” Mano said.
They sat there at the table silently. It was raining harder now. The black birds were squawking in the tops of the trees. Soon, Inez had completely disappeared, and Mano had no way of knowing whether or not he was alone in the room. That night, as he tucked himself into bed, after everything was very dark and very quiet, he could just barely hear her long slurps.
46.
Zuzu walked directly home from The Good House just as she had promised Vera she would. She was ready to be a woman, and part of being a woman, she decided, was taking responsibility for her own decisions. A part of her—maybe it was the new woman part, or maybe it was the girl part—missed her mother. No part of her missed The Barber, who created a vacuum of joy in every room he graced, even though he hardly ever said a word. Zuzu wasn’t even sure he was capable of saying more t
han one sentence at a time. She couldn’t breathe in his house. She thought, maybe if she could just keep the windows open, that would be enough. When she got home, she’d open the windows immediately, she thought. She’d take her punishment unflinchingly, like a new woman, if punishment was indeed in order.
But punishment was indeed not in order. Nothing was in order. No one was even at home when Zuzu arrived. No one was waiting for her. There was no evidence, it seemed to her, that anyone at all had even been looking for her. Once inside, she opened the windows anyway, just in case The Barber would ooze from the bedroom and swallow any joy with a few infinite moments of cracking his back in front of her, a dusting of other people’s hair floating off of his sleeves after each crack. He didn’t though. The bedroom door was open. Their bed was made. No one was inside it.
Unlike being inside Mano’s empty cabin in the woods, Zuzu had no interest in waiting around to see what would happen, or to see who would come home, or if anyone would ever come home again. Zuzu got the feeling she was being trapped, as if someone had set her up. She thought if she waited any longer to leave, the possibility of being ambushed right there became greater. Still, an ambush would be something. How could no one be home after she had been missing for three days, she thought.
For Zuzu, any future of being inside The Barber’s home could not exist without the undying urge to escape it. If she was going to return to anywhere, from anywhere, she wanted to return into someone’s arms, not a dead house where there was no bed of her own to lie upon, only a couch that smelled like The Barber, talcum powder, and cat pee. Zuzu struggled to think of any place she wanted to go other than back to The Good House.
She thought of Mano’s cabin, of course. There was more than enough space for her there. She would hardly be in the way there. She’d live there if she could. Maybe she’d go back there, build her own room off the back of it, raise vegetables in the garden, pick mushrooms, drink beer, smoke cigarettes, play music with him. Maybe they could start a band that played at people’s funerals, if people were to ever have funerals again. She’d need to learn to play an instrument. But first, Zuzu decided, she’d need to grab some peanuts from the cabinet in the kitchen, and her backpack with her overnight things.
Zuzu left for Mano’s cabin, but needed to make three stops along the way. Her first stop was the strawberry patch. About twice a week, Zuzu liked to spend a half hour or so with Enid Pine in the strawberry patch. Enid just stood there like a scarecrow, not moving or talking to Zuzu, but it felt good to share that space with her. Zuzu knew nothing about Enid, except for her name. And she only knew her name because her mother told her, not because Enid was ever able to introduce herself. Still, each time, Zuzu would introduce herself to Enid. She’d say her name, and explain that she’d like to help her pick some strawberries. Most of the year, there would be no strawberries at all to pick, so Zuzu would pretend to pick them for a few minutes from the bare bushes, and drop a few handfuls of invisible strawberries into Enid’s basket. Enid had stood still in her strawberry patch in the same clothes—a white gunnysack dress with a little red strawberry pattern—for the past 16 years. In the colder season, when the patches were bare, Zuzu draped Enid in one of her heaviest coats, and in the heat of the summer, Zuzu rubbed sunblock onto Enid’s face, and poured water directly into her mouth.
This was the season for strawberries, and the patch was bright red and ripe. Zuzu had real work to do. Zuzu decided she’d gather enough strawberries to bring to Mano. They could make a pie in his cabin. Later, she’d bring the pie to Vera, and any strawberries that were left over, she’d give to everyone who lived in The Good House. And if there were any left over after that, any pie or any strawberries, she’d bring that home, to her mother, and even to The Barber. Of course, she’d pick some actual strawberries for Enid’s basket, too, not just pretend ones. She wasn’t sure if Enid would notice, or ever know, but still, it felt very important to Zuzu to fill Enid’s basket with her own strawberries.
“How have you been, Enid?”
Enid, like always, stared straight ahead at the woods to the west, as the sun set over the trees. Her mouth was slightly agape. Zuzu picked a strawberry, and used both hands to put it in Enid’s mouth. With one hand she lowered Enid’s chin, and with the other she pushed the strawberry in, right above her bottom row of teeth.
“I’m here to pick some strawberries for you. Do you need help?” Even though Zuzu didn’t expect a reply, she still looked Enid right in the eyes. She picked about a half basket worth of strawberries, right from the row where Enid always stood, and began to fill Enid’s basket with them.
“Would you like some peanuts?” Zuzu unscrewed the lid of the tin of peanuts and pushed a few of them, one at a time, into Enid’s mouth. She thought, for just a moment, that she could see Enid’s face twitch when her tongue first touched the salt, or maybe it was her jaw closing, so slowly, but Zuzu couldn’t be sure. “I’m going to put the rest in your basket. Is that ok, Enid?”
Enid said nothing.
Zuzu set the tin of peanuts in Enid’s basket. She could see its weight cause the basket to lower a few inches. She wondered if Enid could feel its weight, if it would be too heavy to hold over time, or if she’d eat them.
“Do you want to know where I’m going now, Enid?” Zuzu waited for an answer, to be polite. “I have to go to XO Meats to get some ingredients so I can make a pie crust to make a pie with your strawberries. I’m going to bake it in the oven in the big kitchen in Mano’s enormous cabin. Do you know who Mano is?” Zuzu paused for a moment so Enid could answer. “Yeah, I didn’t really know him either until a few days ago. Well, I did know him, I’m told. When I was a baby. My mom used to love him, I guess, but he was just a boy then. It was so long ago. He kept getting bigger and bigger. Now he is kind of a giant monster. Or at least I thought he was a monster when I first saw him. But he’s no monster. He’s just giant. He just seems pretty lonely, that’s all.” Zuzu thought she saw Enid’s eyes look at her, but she couldn’t be sure. “Do you know him?” Zuzu thought she saw Enid’s bottom lip bend upward, but again, it was impossible to tell. Zuzu moved in much closer, and put her face into Enid’s face to study its smallest slowest movements. “I can tell him that you said hello, Enid. Would you like me to do that, Enid?”
Zuzu studied Enid’s face, but nothing moved. “Ok, well, I have to get going. If my mother comes by, will you tell her where I am?” Zuzu laughed to herself. “Goodbye, Enid. Eat your peanuts.”
Enid bit down. A peanut squeaked between her molars.
47.
Enid had been picking strawberries all day. It was the season. They were ripe. There was so much to do. It was difficult to pick so many strawberries alone. She picked and picked, all day, and when she looked around, the sun going down over the woods to the west, her patch looked as if it hadn’t been picked at all. She wanted to pick more before it got too dark to see the stems on the bushes.
Thankfully, her regular help, the young boy with his hair parted like Pepe Let’s who came by a few times a week, arrived just in time. He had a backpack on his back, and a tin of peanuts in his hand.
“How have you been, Enid?” He slipped his fingers into her mouth, which felt good to her. She licked them. There was a strawberry between them.
“I’ve been good,” said Enid.
“I’m here to pick some strawberries for you. Do you need help?” The boy didn’t wait for Enid to answer. He just started filling Enid’s basket with strawberries. He picked without taking off his backpack.
“Yes, I can’t pick all of these strawberries by myself anymore,” said Enid. She felt her basket get heavier in her hands.
“Would you like some peanuts?” he asked.
“Yes. I like peanuts,” she said.
The young man unscrewed the lid of the tin of peanuts, and pushed a few of them, one at a time, into her mouth. Enid licked the salt from his fingers. She wanted him to hook her bottom teeth with his finger tip and pull her clo
ser to him.
“I’m going to put the rest in your basket. Is that ok, Enid?”
“Yes, that’s ok.”
The boy set the tin of peanuts in her basket. The weight of the basket felt good pulling on her arm. She wanted to hold something with real weight.
The boy looked around along the horizon as if he wondered if anyone was coming to look for him. “Do you want to know where I’m going now, Enid?”
“Yes.”
“I have to go to XO Meats to get some ingredients so I can make a pie crust to make a pie with your strawberries,” the boy said. Enid knew that XO Meats had been grown into a full market, but she didn’t know that they now even sold pie crusts. “I’m going to bake it in the oven in the big kitchen in Mano’s enormous cabin. Do you know who Mano is?”
Something busted open in Enid’s heart. It got so big in her chest that it hurt. It beat too quickly. She hadn’t heard Mano’s name in many years. She had been able to convince herself that after he had gathered all of his things on his body and left the barbershop that morning so many years ago, that he must have walked slowly and largely to The Cure. She hadn’t heard from Mano at all after that morning, so she imagined he sent himself downstream. Sometimes she imagined he hit his head on a giant rock where The Cure meets the sea, and that his big body fell apart, like trash in the tides, and floated down to the deep dark bottom. Some nights, she’d have dreams of him sitting by a pond, growing and growing, and just growing too big for his tiny heart. But until now, Enid hadn’t even considered that Mano was still alive, and nearby.
The boy continued talking about Mano, about how he knew him when he was just a baby, and how now he is a giant but not a monster. “Do you know him?” the boy asked Enid. He got real close to her, as if he wanted to kiss her.
“Yes, Mano is the only family I have left,” Enid said.
“I can tell him that you said hello. Would you like me to do that, Enid?”
Mammother Page 25
