The Clay Head Benediction

by Marty Rafter

looking up at the un-scalable walls of plastic. Then I realize that there is a possibility that the weight of the trash bag may have suffocated it, which gives me some measure of comfort. The desperation is what is most intolerable. The library opens, and I return to the same table I sat at yesterday. Seeking a companion in my guilt over the death of the mouse, I ignore the Milosz, in favor Hrabal. I am nearly finished with the little book by the time Ben comes in. He is perspiring heavily and carrying two large bags. He sits down across from me, and offers me his hand. I shake it, and he looks at me closely in his sincere way and says, “You were sleeping yesterday”

  “I know. I was up late the night before…you could have woken me.” I say

  “I didn’t want you to be mad" He says, as he sits down and arranges his bags.

  “Ben, I wouldn’t have been mad. I was here waiting for you.”

  “You don’t know if you would have been mad or not. Were you mad when you woke up?” He asks

  “No, not really. Surprised that I feel asleep in the library, actually”

  “Well, then you probably wouldn’t have been mad. They just let you sleep here, huh?” He asks, as opens a can of contraband Coca Cola

  “No, a guard woke me up after a couple of hours” I say

  “They wouldn’t let me sleep here even for a minute. I know it” He says

  “They might. You don’t know that”

  He takes a long drink “I know it. They are always coming down on me here”

  “I think it is mostly because you aren’t supposed to drink in here” I say

  “I need to. I am so tired all the time. Without this...” He says holding up the can “I’d be passed out like you were yesterday”

  We sit in silence for a minute, and I take out the little box with the clay head in it. I hand it to Ben.

  “What is this?” He asks

  “It is what I promised. A replacement for your clay head”

  He slowly unties the ribbon and lifts the lid off of the Styrofoam box.

  “This is…”

  “It is a little bit more elaborate than the last one” I say

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I made it. I made it for you, Ben. “

  He gently touches the face.

  “It has hair”

  “And eyelashes, and eyebrows. The eyes are from a taxidermy supply company”

  He looks at the head for a few moments, stroking the hair with his pinky, and then he very delicately closes the box and re-ties the ribbon. He reaches out and touches my arm for a moment, and then jerks away abruptly.

  “I almost forgot” He says, too loudly. Then he leans over and rummages through his bag and removes a rumpled navy backpack. “This is yours, right?”

  I take the bag from him. It is damp. I bring it to my nose and smell it. It smells strongly of mint.

  “I think my neighbor stole it from you” Ben says

  I hold the bag, and gently unzip it. As I look inside, Ben says “It is yours, right? I was watching him. It looks just like yours. Even that stain on the small pocket. “

  “It is…or it was”

  “I knew it...I knew it!” He said triumphantly “He steals. He always complains about my radio too”

  I look down at the damp bag in my hands “how did you get it, Ben?”

  “I took it from him. I saw him with it; I was picking up my prescription…. He was trying to put a bottle of mouthwash in it. I told the people at the store, and they tried to stop him. The lid came of the bottle. That’s how it got wet…they kicked him out. Told him never to come back.”

  “But how did you get it, Ben?” I ask

  “He was sitting outside the store. It was just at his feet, I picked it up.”

  “But you didn’t hurt him, right?” I ask

  “What? No! I didn’t hurt him”

  We sit in silence for a while, and I read a little more of my book. Then I say, “Where do you think he’ll get his mouthwash now?”

  “Anywhere. They have mouthwash everywhere.” Ben says

  “I guess you’re right.” I say

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, Ben. I’m not mad at you.”

  “You seem mad”

  “Do you like the head?” I ask

  He takes the box out of his bag, and slowly goes through the whole process of unwrapping it again. He gently lifts the lid off, and looks at the face. “It is the greatest present I ever got.”

  “Thank you, Ben. It means a lot to hear you say that.” I say

  “You never said anything about that bag.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me, Ben. But you didn’t need to take it” I say

  “So, you are mad” He says looking dejectedly at the table

  ‘No. no, I’m not mad at all, Ben. I just don’t want you to get in trouble”

  “But you are my friend” He says

  “I am your friend, and as your friend, I want you to be careful”

  “I’m sorry”

  “Ben, don’t be sorry. You were trying to be kind, but maybe I gave him the bag”

  “But you didn’t”

  “Maybe I did” I say

  “You give things to me. You gave me this face.” He said, holding up the box

  “And I could have given something different to your neighbor, but don’t worry about it. I am not mad. I just want you to be careful. People can misunderstand things.”

  “Ok...fine. Do you want to talk a walk?” He asks

  “I think I am going to read for a while”

  He gets out of his chair and stands there looking at me. So I say, “You are going for a walk carrying all of that stuff?”

  “It's not so bad, I carried it all here.” He says

  “You can use my backpack if you want” I say

  “Ok”

  I watch as Ben transfers the contents of one of his bags into the backpack. Then he knocks his hairy knuckles against the desk as a way of saying goodbye and walks off.

  I sit and read for a little while. Then, a man in a dark sport coat and a brown plaid shirt comes and sits down across from me.

  “Hello” I say

  “Hello, I am Brian Folz, I am one of the Assistant Directors here, and I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment?”

  “Sure, ok” I say

  “Do you mind coming down to my office? I don’t want to interrupt any of the other patrons”

  I look around, and don’t notice any other patrons but agree to follow Brian Folz down to his office anyway. Once there, he offers me a glass of water, but I decline. Then, I take a seat in one of the two shabby chairs that are across from his narrow wooden desk.

  “Looking for some book recommendations?” I suggest, smiling

  Brian Folz takes off his plastic glasses and cleans the nose piece with a small grey cloth. “Um, no. I was actually hoping to talk to you about a somewhat different matter.”

  “A different matter?” I ask

  “This gentleman, Ben…he is a friend of yours?” He begins, tentatively

  “Yeah. He is a friend of mine”

  “…and I assume you are aware that he is quite dangerous”

  “I don’t think he is dangerous. He just gets confused. He occasionally has some problems separating fantasy from reality, but who doesn’t really? It's… all a matter of degree”

  “We have had serious problems with him. In fact, one of our best staff members threatened to resign because of him”

  “You mean about the can thing? I was here for that. That was overblown” I say

  “I know you were here then. I saw you on the surveillance tapes”

  “Well, then you saw how it happened. “ I say “You can’t honestly say that you felt that someone’s safety was at risk”

  “It is all very subjective. Perhaps you weren’t afraid, but some of our staff certainly were” Brain Folz says />
  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m still not sure…”

  “I had a discussion with Mr. Coats. He tells me that you have fashioned yourself as a sort of Svengali to some of our patrons with more troublesome mental disturbances”

  “Mister Coats?” I say

  “Oh yes. He has been quite helpful. As I’m sure you were aware, we had a problem with some individuals meeting for liaisons in the stacks”

  “I wasn’t aware” I say

  “Oh yes, it was quite a problem. Mr. Coats helped us identify some of the problematic actors, and we were able to work with the authorities to find a solution”

  “A solution?” I ask

  “Yes, to stop the people from meeting for sex”

  “And now Coats is suggesting that I…”

  “In fact, Mr. Coats has suggested something a bit more unusual. “Brian Folz says

  “What exactly is he suggesting?”

  “That you are using this building as a base of operations to meet some of our more troubled patrons and encourage them to act negatively through unusual methods of psychological control”

  “Are you even listening to yourself right now? Are you hearing the words you are saying? ‘unusual methods of psychological control’ is that a real thing?”

  “I thought it was quite odd myself, and would have continued to think so, if I hadn’t just seen exactly what Mr. Coats described on the surveillance camera”

  “Which was what?” I ask

  “You… giving Ben a small box containing a head, and him providing you with a empty knapsack that was clearly wet with an unknown substance.”

  “The substance is only unknown because you did not ask what it is” I say

  “What is it, sir?” Brian Folz asks

  “Mouthwash.”

  “Mouthwash?”

  “Yes, the rinse a person uses after they brush their teeth. It is really quite a common product...”

  “…should I bother to ask what the significance of a mouthwash covered knapsack is?”

  “Not if you want an answer that will