Roy's World

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Roy's World Page 14

by Barry Gifford


  “You said he was your friend.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Why don’t I know him?”

  “He’s kind of a new friend. That’s why I’m taking you to Jackson, to meet Bert, so he can be your friend, too.”

  “Is Bert a friend of Dad’s?”

  “No, baby. Dad doesn’t know Bert.”

  “How far now to the reptile farm?”

  “We’re pretty close. The last sign said twenty-six miles. I can’t go too fast on this road.”

  “I like this car, Mom. I like that it’s blue and white, like the sky, except now there’s dark clouds.”

  “It’s called a Holiday.”

  “We’re on a holiday now, right?”

  “Yes, Roy, it’s a kind of holiday. Just taking a little trip, the two of us.”

  “We’re pals, huh?”

  “We sure are, baby. You’re my best pal.”

  “Better than Bert?”

  “Yes, darling, better than anyone else. You’ll always be my favorite boy.”

  “Look, Mom! We must be really close now.”

  “The sign said, ‘Ten minutes to Cobratown.’”

  “If it rains hard, will the snakes stay inside?”

  “It’s only raining a little, Roy. They’ll be out. They’ll all be out, baby, don’t worry. There’ll be cobras crawling all over Cobratown, just for us. You’ll see.”

  Chinese Down the Amazon

  “What do you think, baby? Does this place look all right to you?”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Safe as any motel room in Alabama can be, I guess. At least it looks clean.”

  “And it doesn’t stink of old cigarettes, like the last one.”

  “We can stay here.”

  “I’m tired, Mom.”

  “Take off your shoes and lie down, baby. I’ll go out and bring back something for dinner. I’ll bet there’s a Chinese restaurant in this town. There’s Chinese everywhere, Roy, you know that? Even down the Amazon it said in the National Geographic. I can get some egg rolls and pork chow mein and egg foo yung. What do you think, baby? Would you like some chow mein and egg foo yung? I’ll just make a quick stop in the bathroom first. Out in a jiffy.”

  “Could I get a Coca-Cola?”

  “Oh! Oh, Christ! This is disgusting! Come on, baby, we’re moving.”

  “What happened, Mom?”

  “Just filth! The bathroom is crazy with cockroaches! Even the toilet’s filled with bugs!”

  “I don’t see any bugs on the bed.”

  “Those kind come out later, when the light’s off. Get off of there! The beds are probably infested, too. Let’s go!”

  “I’ve got to put on my shoes.”

  “You can do it in the car. Come on!”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, Roy?”

  “Could I get a hamburger instead of Chinese?”

  Bandages

  “I was very shy when I was a girl, so shy it was painful. When I had to leave my room at school, to go to class, I often became physically ill. I got sick at the thought of having to see people, or their having to see me, to talk to them. I think this is why I had my skin problems, my eczema. It came from nerves. Being sick allowed me to stay by myself, wrapped up in bandages. People left me alone.”

  “But weren’t you lonely?”

  “Not really. I liked to read and listen to the radio and dream. I didn’t have to be asleep to really dream, to go into another world where I wasn’t afraid of meeting people, of having them look at me and judge me. I really felt better, safe, inside those bandages. They were my shield, I suppose, my protection.”

  “Prince Valiant has a shield.”

  “I like this song, Roy. Listen, I’ll turn it up: Dean Martin singing ‘Ain’t Love a Kick in the Head.’ He works hard to sound so casual, so relaxed. I always had the feeling Dean Martin was really very shy, like me. That he affected this style of not seeming to care, to be so cool, in order to cover up his real feelings. That’s his shield.”

  “Are we still in Indiana?”

  “Yes, baby. We’ll be in Indianapolis soon. We’ll stay there tonight.”

  “Indiana goes on a long time.”

  “It seems that way sometimes. Look out the window. Maybe you’ll see a farmer.”

  “Mom, are there still Indians in Indiana?”

  “I don’t think so, baby. They all moved away.”

  “Then why is it still called Indiana, if there aren’t any Indians left?”

  “Just because they were here before. There were Indians, many different tribes, all over the country.”

  “The Indians rode horses. They didn’t have cars.”

  “Some of them had cars after.”

  “After what?”

  “After people came from Europe.”

  “They brought cars from Europe?”

  “Yes, but they made them here, too. That’s where the Indians got them, the same as everybody else.”

  “There aren’t so many horses here as in Florida.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, Roy?”

  “You still wrap yourself up with bandages sometimes.”

  “When I have an attack of eczema, to cover the ointment I put on the sores, so I don’t get everything greasy.”

  “You don’t want anyone to see the sores?”

  “One time, not long after I married your father, I had such a bad attack that my skin turned red and black, and I had to stay in the hospital for a month. The sores got so bad they bled. The skin on my arms and hands and face stank under the bandages. I couldn’t wash and I smelled terrible. When the nurses unwrapped the bandages to sponge me off, the odor made me want to vomit.

  “One day your dad’s brother, Uncle Bruno, was there when the nurses took off the bandages. He didn’t believe I was really sick, I don’t know why, but he wanted to see for himself. It was costing your dad a lot of money for doctors to take care of me and to keep me in a private hospital. When they removed my bandages, Bruno was horrified by the sight of my skin. He couldn’t stand the smell or to look at me, and he ran out of the room. I guess he was worried about all the money your father was spending on me. He probably thought I was pretending to be so sick. After that, he said to your dad, ‘Kitty used to be so beautiful. What happened to her?’”

  “But you are beautiful, Mom.”

  “I wasn’t then, baby, not when I was so sick. I looked pretty bad. But Bruno knew I wasn’t faking. I screamed when the nurse peeled off the bandages, my skin stuck to them. Bruno heard me. He wanted your dad to get rid of me, I was too much trouble.”

  “Did Dad want to get rid of you?”

  “No, baby, he didn’t. We separated for other reasons.”

  “Was I a reason?”

  “No, sweetheart, of course you weren’t. Your father loves you more than anything, just like I do. You mustn’t ever think that. The trouble was just between your dad and me, it had nothing to do with you. Really, you’re the most precious thing to both of us.”

  “When will we get to Chicago?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Where are we going to stay? At Nanny’s house?”

  “No, baby, we’ll stay at the hotel, the same place as before. Remember how you like the chocolate sundaes they make in the restaurant there?”

  “Uh-huh. Can we sit in the big booth by the window when we have breakfast?”

  “Sure, baby.”

  “Can I have a chocolate sundae for breakfast?”

  “One time you can, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Mom?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do I have nerves?”

  “What do you mean, baby? Everyone has nerves.”


  “I mean, will I ever have to be wrapped up in bandages because of my nerves?”

  “No, Roy, you won’t. You’re not nervous like I was, like I sometimes get now only not so bad as when I was younger. It’ll never happen to you, never. Don’t worry.”

  “I love you, Mom. I hope you never have sores and have to get wrapped up again.”

  “I hope so, too, baby. And remember, I love you more than anything.”

  Soul Talk

  “Mom, when birds die, what happens to their souls?”

  “What made you think of that, Roy?”

  “I was watching a couple of crows fly by.”

  “You think birds have souls?”

  “That’s what Nanny says.”

  “What do you think the soul is, baby?”

  “Something inside a person.”

  “Where inside?”

  “Around the middle.”

  “You mean by the heart?”

  “I don’t know. Someplace deep. Can a doctor see it on an X-ray?”

  “No, baby, nobody can see it. Sometimes you can feel your soul yourself. It’s just a feeling. Not everybody has one.”

  “Some people don’t have a soul?”

  “I don’t know, Roy, but there are more than a few I’ll bet have never been in touch with theirs. Or who’d recognize it if it glowed in the dark.”

  “Can you see your soul in the dark if you take off all your clothes and look in the mirror?”

  “Only if your eyes are closed.”

  “Mom, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “I hate to tell you this, baby, but the older you get and the more you figure things should make sense, they more than sometimes don’t.”

  “Your soul flies away like a crow when you die and hides in a cloud. When it rains that means the clouds are full of souls and some of ’em are squeezed out. Rain is the dead souls there’s no more room for in heaven.”

  “Did Nanny tell you this, Roy?”

  “No, it’s just something I thought.”

  “Baby, there’s no way I’ll ever think about rain the same way again.”

  Skylark

  “You know, sometimes you look just like your father, only much more beautiful, of course.”

  “You don’t think Dad is beautiful?”

  “No, your father isn’t so beautiful, but he’s a real man.”

  “And I’m a real boy, like Pinocchio wanted to be.”

  “Yes, baby, you’re a real boy.”

  “Why isn’t Dad with us so much anymore?”

  “He’s very busy, Roy, you know that. His business takes up most of his time.”

  “When will I see him again?”

  “We’ll go to Havana in two weeks and meet him there. You like the hotel where his apartment is, remember? The Nacional?”

  “Will the little man with the curly white dog be there?”

  “Little man? Oh, Mr. Lipsky. I don’t know, baby. Remember the last time we saw him? In Miami, the day after the big hurricane.”

  “We were walking down the middle of the street that looked like it was covered with diamonds, and Mr. Lipsky was carrying his dog.”

  “The hurricane had blown out most of the windows of the big hotels, and Collins Avenue was paved with chunks of glass.”

  “Mr. Lipsky kissed you. I remember he had to stand on his toes. Then he gave me a piece of candy.”

  “He was carrying his tiny dog because he didn’t want him to cut his paws on the broken glass. Mr. Lipsky said the dog was used to taking a walk every morning at that time and he didn’t want to disappoint him.”

  “Mr. Lipsky talks funny.”

  “What do you mean, he talks funny?”

  “He sings.”

  “Sings?”

  “Like he’s singing a little song when he says something to you.”

  “Sure, baby, I know what you mean. Mr. Lipsky’s a little odd, but he’s been a good friend to your dad and us.”

  “Does Mr. Lipsky have a wife?”

  “I think so, but I’ve never met her.”

  “I hope when I grow up I won’t be as little as him.”

  “As he, honey. As little as he. Of course you won’t. You’ll be as tall as your dad, or taller.”

  “Is Mr. Lipsky rich?”

  “Why do you ask that, baby?”

  “Because he always wears those big sparkly rings.”

  “Well, Roy, Mr. Lipsky is probably one of the wealthiest men in America.”

  “How did he get so rich?”

  “Oh, he has lots of different kinds of businesses, here and in Cuba. All over the world, maybe.”

  “What kinds of businesses?”

  “Lots of times he gives people money to start a business, and then they have to pay him back more than the amount he gave them or pay him part of what they earn for as long as the business lasts.”

  “I guess he’s pretty smart.”

  “Your dad thinks Mr. Lipsky is the smartest man he’s ever met.”

  “I hope I’m smart.”

  “You are, Roy. Don’t worry about being smart.”

  “You know what, Mom?”

  “What, baby?”

  “I think if I had to choose one thing, to be tall or to be smart, I’d take smart.”

  “You’ll be both, sweetheart, you won’t have to choose.”

  “Do you know what Mr. Lipsky’s dog’s name is?”

  “Sky something, isn’t it? Skylark, that’s it, like the Hoagy Carmichael song.”

  “I bet he’s smart, too. A dog named Skylark would have to be very smart.”

  Flamingos

  “Mom, after I die I want to come back as a flamingo.”

  “You won’t die for a very long time, Roy. It’s too soon to be thinking about it. But I’m not so sure that after people die they come back at all. How do you know about reincarnation? And why a flamingo?”

  “How do I know about what?”

  “Reincarnation. Like you said, some people believe that after they die they’ll return in a different form, as another person or even as an insect or animal.”

  “Mammy Yerma told me it could happen.”

  “Mammy Yerma usually knows what she’s talking about, but I’m not so sure about being reincarnated, even as a flamingo.”

  “Flamingos are the most beautiful birds, like the ones around the pond at the racetrack in Hialeah. I’d like to be a dark pink flamingo with a really long, curvy neck.”

  “They’re elegant birds, baby, that’s for sure.”

  “If you could come back as an animal, Mom, what would you be?”

  “A leopard, probably. Certainly a big cat of some kind, if I had a choice. Leopards are strong and fast and beautiful. They climb trees, Roy, did you know that? Leopards are terrifically agile.”

  “What’s agile?”

  “They’re great leapers, with perfect balance. They can jump up in a tree and walk along a narrow limb better than the best acrobat. Another thing about leopards, I believe, is that they mate for life.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means once a male and female leopard start a family, they stay together until they die.”

  “People do, too.”

  “Yes, baby, some people do. But I think it’s harder for human beings to remain true to one another than it is for leopards.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, all animals have to worry about is getting food, protecting their young, and to avoid being eaten by bigger animals. Humans have much more to deal with, plus our brain is different. A leopard acts more on instinct, what he feels. A person uses his brain to reason, to decide what to do.”

  “I’d like to be a leopard with a human brain. Then I could leap up in a tree and re
ad a book and nobody would bother me because they’d be afraid.”

  “Baby, are you getting hungry? We humans have to decide if we want to stop soon and eat.”

  “A leopard would probably eat a flamingo, if he was hungry enough.”

  “Maybe, but a skinny bird doesn’t make much of a meal, and I don’t think a leopard would want to mess with all of those feathers.”

  “Mom, I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Now that’s something neither a leopard nor a flamingo would think twice about. I’ll stop at the next exit. I need to go, too.”

  Wyoming

  “What’s your favorite place, Mom?”

  “Oh, I have a lot of favorite places, Roy. Cuba, Jamaica, Mexico.”

  “Is there a place that’s really perfect? Somewhere you’d go if you had to spend the rest of your life there and didn’t want anyone to find you?”

  “How do you know that, baby?”

  “Know what?”

  “That sometimes I think about going someplace where nobody can find me.”

  “Even me?”

  “No, honey, not you. We’d be together, wherever it might be.”

  “How about Wyoming?”

  “Wyoming?”

  “Have you ever been there?”

  “Your dad and I were in Sun Valley once, but that’s in Idaho. No, Roy, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “It’s really big there, with lots of room to run. I looked on a map. Wyoming’s probably a good place to have a dog.”

  “I’m sure it is, baby. You’d like to have a dog, huh?”

  “It wouldn’t have to be a big dog, Mom. Even a medium-size or small dog would be okay.”

  “When I was a little girl we had a chow named Toy, a big black Chinese dog with a long purple tongue. Toy loved everyone in the family, especially me, and he would have defended us to the death. He was dangerous to anyone outside the house, and not only to people.

  “One day Nanny found two dead cats hanging over the back fence in our yard. She didn’t know where they came from, and she buried them. The next day or the day after that, she found two or three more dead cats hanging over the fence. It turned out that Toy was killing the neighborhood cats and draping them over the fence to show us. After that, he had to wear a muzzle.”

 

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