Patter, then Story # 3

I'm halfway through 3 new stories (2 of which I'm very angry at right now) and nothing new is ready for today. So I will reach into my bag of tricks and pull out an old story (written 3 months ago) that I was saving for a slow week. I feel like I'm using a lifeline on a 200$ question, but I gotta keep the 20 story run going somehow.

In other news, I've abandoned TV. Said I was going out for a pack of cigarettes...which made the TV ask me if I was picking up smoking, which justified my saying back to the TV, "see, you don't know anything about me. You never listen to me. I don't know why I'm in this relationship in the first place". The TV apologized, but I was angry and it wasn't enough. I unplugged her and put her in the closet. Facing the wall because I can't stand the blank look of reproach on her face. And, it's been good, so far. Lots of Hulu. Lots of rediscovering my love of music through Pitchfork and Pandora. Lots of writing excercises. Lots of being sociable. Maybe I'll sell her on craigslist. Maybe I'll just keep her in the closet. Maybe I'll destroy her with my antique ball-pen hammer. If I destroy it, you can blame it on Robert Bly's "Iron John".

Story # 3

The Palest, Most Beautiful Boy in the World

I dreamt of a pair of riverside beggars, man and woman. Itinerant wanderers who had camped on the slow bend of an s-curve on some offshoot of the Mississippi. We were uneasy friends and sat on plastic milk crates and worn camp chairs around a fire. There were fireflies at the edges of the light, and mosquitoes.

Excitedly, over canned beans. In the late evening:

-“It was nothin’ but a glint under the water from the setting sun when my Charlie saw it. It’s just me and my Charlie here. He’s the first one ever to have seen it.”

Charlie nods his head in agreement. Then speaks.

- “’Bout two months ago. Out in the middle of our bend. It was the square outline of a sunken houseboat. The light has to be right or you won’t see it. And I swam out to it and I dove down.”

He flicks his wrist towards the river with the worn steak knife he used to open the can of beans.

-“And tell him, Charlie, what we found.”

-“Well, first thing I found is a houseboat, square and sound looking, just sittin’ there on the bottom as if it was made for it. No gash in it or nothing. So the door was open and I swam through it into the kitchen and found everything as it should be, as if it’d never sunk, as if it weren’t underwater. The trash bag waiting by the door as if ready to be taken out. Post-it notes still stuck to the side of a cabinet, waving all sleepy-like in the current. The fridge still working cooling away the water inside it…”

-“Even the toilets, my Charlie says, even the toilets flush, or try to flush. Make a swirl in the room like they trying to swallow the whole damn river. Whole houseboat is like that. Still working like the day it was made. Ain’t it nothing but magic?

She stares at me. I look down at my can of warm beans to avoid her stare. She presses,

-“You like them beans friend? Them beans is from the houseboat. Charlie found them just sittin’ in the cupboard yesterday.”

-“We figured they wouldn’t miss ‘em. I been taking things from that houseboat since I found her. It ain’t true looting. I’m sure the couple wouldn’t mind it. Lots of this camp come from that houseboat. Tarp and tent were in the hallway closet. Took a bunch of blankets that we dried out and are real warm. That grill was mounted on the front deck. We got so much of the houseboat up here now it’s like we’re rebuilding her right here on the shore.’”

-“A Couple?” I ask, confused.

He looks at me with surprise then regret on his face. He looks at his partner as if asking an apology and permission.

-“Charlie ain’t never told nobody about them but me. But seeing as he let it slip, we might as well tell you. Charlie say there’s a couple down there, in the living room”.

Charlie takes over, speaking slowly.

-“Yeah, Woman young and pretty, just a laid out on the couch as if she’s sleeping. Pale man sittin’ Indian style on the carpet at the foot of the couch, as if he’s giving her room to sleep. Both their hair all black and wavy in the water.”

-“And no decay, right Charlie? Dead two months sure, skin all cold but not a critter in sight. Eyes closed just like they was takin’ a nap. Like they got tired of watching the tube and just closed their eyes and took a nap. Nothin’ but magic. Charlie thinks it must have been a gas leak, don’t you Charlie?”

-“Yeah, no signs of struggle. Must have just passed out from the gas and floated down the river til some eddy took ‘em and twirled ‘em down into the middle of our bend. Done swam all around that boat though and can’t find a reason why she would have sunk. No gash in it or nothing.”

Charlie looks down into the small fire and moves a half burned mesquite branch with the toe of his boot. The woman looks at me as if waiting for me to speak.

-“It’s amazing,” I say. “I don’t know what else to say. Sounds amazing.”

-”It is. It’s nothin’ but magic.” She is eager. “I can’t swim down just yet. I’ve been sick, you know, on the inside.” She waves a hand below her belly. “Charlie’s been nursing me back to health. But I can sure see the glint of it in the water off the bend there.”

She is leaning forward in her camp chair, legs together. She looks well into middle age with a creased but clean face. Her clothes are dirty. I hadn’t noticed how thin she was. Charlie is still looking down at the hot base of the fire. It’s hard to look pale in the red-orange light of a fire, but the woman still looks pale.

“And there’s one more thing friend, secret and real special. Charlie ain’t even told me this ‘til bout a week ago. He says there’s kid toys all about the living room. You know, a real young boy’s toys. And he says there’s a door he hasn’t checked yet in the hallway cause it just don’t feel right to open it yet. Ain’t that the truth Charlie, that there’s another bedroom but it just don’t feel right to swim in there yet?”

-“That’s the truth, love.”

He glances over at the woman, then back down to the fire, then up at me. The woman speaks:

-“I tell you friend, that boat’s nothin’ but magic. I bet you…” Her voice lowers to a whisper “I bet you there’s a boy in that room, all cold and sleeping in a crib like his parents. Hair all wispy and wavy in the slow water. I bet he’s the palest most beautiful boy in the world. Don’t you think so Charlie? Don’t you bet he’s the palest most beautiful boy in the world?

Charlie looks down again at the fire.

-“I do, love.”

The woman’s voice lowers even further, takes on heavy intent. She is very eager, pressing words out with great effort.

-“And one of these nights friend, when Charlie feels right about it he says he’s going to swim into that room and find that boy and take him in his arms and bring him up here to the surface. And who knows with the magic in that boat if that boy won’t just take a deep breath when he hits the moonlight, like he’s been holding them breath them whole two months. And we’ll adopt him and keep him right here so he can grow up strong and be close to his other parents and dive down once in a while to see them all peaceful and sleeping, all young and in love like the day they was married. You think that’ll happen, don’t you Charlie? Like the day they was married.”

-“I do, love.”

She relaxes and sinks back into the camp chair, looking small and exhausted. Away from the direct firelight she looks ghostly white, whispish, like a moonbeam. Charlie stands up slowly from his milk crate, takes a small red blanket and tucks it around the woman’s shoulders. He comes back to the crate, sits down and begins to unlace his boots.

-“You close your eyes and sleep a bit now love, you’ve talked yourself out. Me and our friend here’s going to the river now and see about the houseboat. Would you like I bring you back one of the toys from the living room? I ‘magine I could do that for you.”

The woman answers weakly, as if from far away.

-“Oh thank you Charlie, thank you.” And to me: “He likes to go down in the moonlight, says there’s less chance of being seen that way. I like to sit by the fire and fall asleep to the sound of him diving down in the water.”

She closes her eyes and turns her head. Charlie and I walk towards the bend in the river. Charlie is barefoot and takes off his denim shirt as we are walking. His torso is hunched and hairy and covered in raised, pink mosquito bites.

-“You should take her to a hospital” I say as we reach the river.

-“I did. They did a bunch of tests then gave us pain pills and sent us back. Said it was bad. ‘Advanced’ they said. Said there was nothing for it. Been two months now.”

I pause, taken aback. Charlie pulls off his jeans and stands on the bank in worn white underwear, shoulders hunched against a cold I cannot feel. A half moon shines on the ripples of the river.

-“It’s a real nice thing that you’re doing for her, then” I say “with the houseboat and all…”

-“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about friend”

Charlie’s words are measured. He looks through me. I lower my voice,

-“I mean, there’s really no magic houseboat down there is there?”

An uncertainty, which is hope, makes my voice tail off at the end of the question. Still, as soon as it’s out I regret speaking. Charlie looks at me and then back down at his feet standing in the mud of the riverbank. He looks very tired in the moonlight. He slaps his arm at a mosquito and waits a long time before speaking.

“Listen friend,” He says, seriously, “All of us, we all do the best we can.”

He swallows. Then he lurches into the river from the riverbank and swims clumsily crosscurrent towards the center of the bend.