by Adam Rapp
It’s been there forever, I say.
She nods and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. The rain makes her hair look black and stringy. The red streaks are more brown than red now.
Cheedle finishes stirring his food and stops the flame on the burner. After he pours the beans and franks into a bowl he grabs a fork and sits down next to his typewriter and eats.
He says, I’d offer you some but there’s only enough for one portion, he says to us.
That’s okay, Mary Jane Paddington says, and pats her hair with the paper towels.
For a second I think Cheedle is going to feed his typewriter. I imagine it sprouting legs and walking around.
Hello, it says to me in front of the bathroom. Can I borrow five bucks?
While Cheedle eats nobody says anything.
Is that noise from your refrigerator? Mary Jane Paddington asks.
It hums a lot, I say.
It’s quite temperamental, Cheedle offers.
Ours is loud too, she says.
The rain goes heavy on the roof for a minute. Sometimes it leaks through the bathroom ceiling. Ma keeps an old Maxwell House coffee can next to the toilet just in case.
After Cheedle finishes eating he sets his dish in the sink and grabs his typewriter.
Goodbye, he says. Very fine meeting you.
Nice to meet you too, Mary Jane Paddington says.
Good luck, Cheedle adds, and heads downstairs.
I have no idea why he says this. It’s like he wished us both luck.
After a minute, Mary Jane Paddington says, I like your house.
Thanks, I say.
I see that the clock over the sink is still broken.
Mary Jane Paddington says, I like small houses. You can’t get lost in em.
I think about where I’d go to get lost in our house. I’d probably go down to the basement and hide in the dryer.
There’s so much rain in the kitchen window it looks like the glass is melting.
Were you born here? Mary Jane Paddington asks.
I was born in the hospital, I say. St. Joseph’s.
I was born at St. Joseph’s, too, she says. They had to cut me out.
Oh, I say.
I imagine her being cut out. For some reason I see her coming out of a cow. They have to use a saw and there’s blood all over the walls.
On the toaster there is a stack of coupons for Velveeta Shells & Cheese. There’s another stack for Liquid Drano.
For some reason I walk over and sweep them off with my hand.
The refrigerator hums louder.
The light over the table buzzes.
I say, Wanna go in my room?
Sure, she says.
In my room Mary Jane Paddington spreads the newspaper on the floor while I pick up gross items such as dirty socks and underwear with stains. I put them in the closet next to my special box.
There’s a hole in the wall next to the door. No one knows how it got there. I asked Ma what it’s from but she said it was there when we moved in. The hole’s about the size of a fist and Shay used to hide things in it.
Once I found a plastic bag with blue pills.
What are these? I asked her, holding the bag.
They’re my pills, she said.
What kinda pills?
Just pills, okay?
Then she snatched the bag away from me. She stopped hiding stuff in the hole after that.
Now it’s just a hole.
I tried putting a poster of Sammy Sosa over the hole for a while. Sammy Sosa was standing in the batter’s box at Wrigley Field in Chicago.
Under the picture it said:
SAMMY SOSA AND TRUE VALUE HARDWARE
TRUE CHICAGOLAND POWER!
The poster fell down so many times that Ma made me throw it away.
Our walls just aren’t meant for posters, she explained.
Mary Jane Paddington pries open the can of paint with the wooden ruler.
So it’s just you and your brother in here? she asks.
Yes, I say. My sister Shay sleeps in the room next to my ma’s.
Who gets the top bunk?
Cheedle, I say.
You afraid of heights or something?
A little.
That’s understandable, she says, stirring the paint with the ruler. Then she adds, When I was little my dad took me to the top of the Sears Tower. I couldn’t get close to the window cause I kept thinking the glass would disappear and I’d get sucked into the sky. Even now if I even think about that window it makes me feel like I got bees in my stomach.
I imagine getting sucked into the sky. I see myself upside down, the Sears Tower shrinking to the size of a bug.
She stops mixing the paint and reaches into her back pocket.
Want some Dentyne Ice? she asks. It’s wintergreen.
Sure, I say.
One or two?
Just one.
She pushes a square of gum through the Dentyne Ice foil and hands it to me. She takes one for herself too.
I say, Do I have bad breath or something?
No, she says. It’s for just in case.
Just in case what? I ask.
Just in case we kiss later.
Oh, I say. Okay.
For a second I feel like I might urinate but I use the muscles in my penis to keep that from happening.
I say, Can I show you something?
Sure.
I go and get my special box from the closet.
This is my box, I say.
What’s in it? she asks.
Just some stuff, I say.
I take everything out of the box. I put the black hardhat on. I put the scarf on, too.
Just as I’m about to put the sweater on, Mary Jane Paddington says, Wait.
I say, What.
Don’t put that on, she says. Come here.
I go over to her and kneel on the newspaper.
She uses the ruler to put a blob of red paint on Shay’s sweatshirt. She spreads it with great care. It smells highly flammable.
Now do me, she says, and hands me the ruler.
I dip the ruler into the paint and spread a blob on the front of her inside-out QUACK OFF, MOTHERQUACKER! long-sleeved T-shirt. I am careful not to make the paint blob bigger than it used to be.
I make additional speckles too.
When I am finished I hand her the ruler and she sets it down.
We are so close I can feel the heat of her body.
We stay like that for a moment. The smell of paint is filling the whole room now.
What about you? I ask, adjusting my hardhat.
What about me what? she says.
Do you have any brothers or sisters?
No, she says. It’s just me and my dad. And we have a cat. Banjo. Banjo’s a Siamese.
What about your mom? I ask.
She died when I was four, Mary Jane Paddington says. She had leukemia.
I say, What’s that?
Blood cancer.
Then she takes her glasses off.
Her eyes are odd-shaped and yellow.
Up close you can see that some of her teeth are crooked. One is yellower than the others, too.
We chew our gum for a minute.
My mouth comes alive with wintergreen sensation. I am surprised to find that I have popped a boner.
How’s your gum? she asks.
Good, I say. Minty. How’s yours?
Pretty good. Wanna trade?
Sure, I say.
I take my gum out and hand it to her.
She gives me hers. It’s sticky on my finger and I have to gnaw it off.
We chew and smile.
Through my window the trees are naked and shivering.
Mary Jane Paddington says, No trading back.
Okay.
Is mine good? she asks.
Yes, I say. Is mine?
I think yours is better, she says.
Then her face moves toward mine.
She says,
So you give kissing lessons, huh?
I gave one, I say.
I imagine Anna Beth Coles walking home in the rain. Her big red umbrella getting pulled by the wind.
Have you ever kissed anyone? I ask.
I kiss Banjo sometimes but that doesn’t count, she says. Sometimes he claws me.
Then our faces move closer and we kiss and all the air goes out of me and I forget how to breathe. It’s like I’m a balloon and someone’s tied a knot in the pucker part.
This is how time stops, I think.
This is how you make it stop.
Her mouth is moist and warm. It’s the best thing I have tasted in my entire life.
Breathe, she says. Through your nose.
Then I breathe.
I almost like not breathing better.
Then we do it again for several minutes.
I watch Cheedle’s General Electric digital alarm clock.
We kiss for a full two minutes.
This must be a new world record, I think.
I breathe a number of times through my nose.
I worry about snots and other fluids.
Later she puts my hand on her breast and my boner starts to hurt.
When it stops raining I walk Mary Jane Paddington to the Rocco Copley Townhouses on Cedarwood Drive. It is only a ten-minute walk and I am happy to discover this fact.
The woods stretch behind the Rocco Copley Townhouses and you can see blackbirds darting over the trees.
We are still chewing our Dentyne Ice.
We are holding hands now, too.
Mine is damp and cold.
Every time a car passes, Mary Jane Paddington squeezes my hand a little tighter. I have no idea why she is doing this but it feels good. After the third car I start to squeeze hers, too.
Even though it’s barely four o’clock some of the cars are driving with their lights on. Some of them turn them on when they pass us.
I think this must mean something.
The sky grumbles a little.
A dog barks from someone’s backyard. It sounds hungry and mad.
We pass the White Hen Pantry. There’s nobody inside except a tall kid behind the counter. He’s got long blond hair and several face piercings. There’s a little chain that connects at his nostril and his lip. I wonder if this gets caught on stuff when he sleeps.
So have you seen that deer again? Mary Jane Paddington asks.
Not since I touched it, I tell her.
We should follow it sometime, she says. Just to see what would happen.
Okay, I say.
I think those woods go pretty deep, she adds.
Several of the units of the Rocco Copley Townhouses look haunted cause of all the boarded-up windows. This is probably a result of last summer’s tornado.
According to Eric Duggan it was the worst tornado in Joliet Township history.
It touched down for sixteen seconds and several houses in the area were permanently damaged. On Rooney Drive there was a garage roof that got ripped off clean. A few seconds later it landed on top of the Hufford Junior High School Memorial Gymnasium.
A kid selling newspapers jogs past us from behind. His paperboy bag is bulging with the Joliet Herald News.
Some people believe that certain gang activities are taking place here, too, such as the dealing of crack cocaine or the selling of Uzis. I heard Shay telling this to her friend Betty on the phone one night. There’s supposed to be one entire unit full of Vicelords.
When we get to the main drive I hand her the can of red paint and the wooden ruler.
Mary Jane Paddington says, Maybe next time you can come over to my house.
Okay, I say.
Her hair is totally dry now and the red streaks look red again.
We can do it in the garage, she adds.
Do what? I ask.
She says, Paint each other.
Then we just stand there for a minute.
The sky is like dirty dishwater.
Her poncho crackles in the wind.
Okay then, she says, snapping the top snap of my Koren Motors windbreaker. Stay warm. Bye.
Then she kisses me on the cheek and turns and walks away.
Bye, I say. I love you.
I know she can’t hear me cause of the wind but I say it again.
I love you, Mary Jane.
17
When I get to the loading dock behind Costco the rain has started up again.
I flip up the collar of my windbreaker to keep warm.
There are a few trucks backed into the loading docks. One of them says SEALY POSTUREPEDIC and there’s a big picture of a mattress.
The red Camaro is parked next to a large van with a mermaid painted on the side. The Camaro has dark windows and an Indiana license plate and a bumper sticker that says TED NUGENT LIVES FOREVER!
I knock on the window and wait.
I get the feeling that someone is watching me from inside the van.
After a minute the Camaro’s window comes down and a man with a face like a lizard’s looks out at me. I think he must be related to my bus driver.
There’s rock music on low. It’s a woman moaning to a guitar.
Who the fuck are you? he asks.
I’m Blacky, I say.
Blacky who?
Blacky Brown, I say. Flahive sent me.
He says, Flahive sent you?
His voice is like a saw on a log.
I nod.
He sent you?
Yes, I say.
He looks at me for a minute and then opens the door and says, Why you wearin a hardhat, you afraid of gettin hit or somethin?
I’m just wearin it, I say.
Get in.
I get in the Camaro. The passenger seat smells like feet and fireworks.
I say, You’re Lloyd, right?
He says, Last time I checked I was.
Then Lloyd lights a cigarette. There are empty packs of Kools all over the floor.
My sister smokes those, I say.
Lloyd says, Tell her to quit. Motherfuckers ruin your life.
After he exhales he says, So what can I do for you, Blacky?
I say, I need bullets.
What kinda bullets?
I pull out my gun and hand it to him.
He studies it for a second and says, This was Basano’s. Flahive sold this piece of shit to you?
I nod.
How much did he take off you?
I say, A lot.
He says, Flahive. What a criminal. Fucking thing ain’t accurate for shit. You’re better off using a bow and arrow. You want me to gas it up for you?
I nod.
Slugs to kill the bugs, he says. Stay here, I’ll be right back.
Then he opens his door and looks out.
Fuckin weather’s goin apeshit, ain’t it?
I don’t respond. I just sort of sit there.
Then Lloyd slides out and slams the door.
He taps on the windshield to the van and a moment later the driver’s side window goes down and a large African American man’s head appears. He’s got a gold tooth and a beard.
Lloyd talks to him for a minute and then comes back to the car. He opens the door and leans his head in.
We got a special on bottle rockets right now, you want any bottle rockets?
No, thanks, I say. Just the bullets.
Cool, he says, staring at me for a moment. The cops sent you over here or somethin?
No, I say. Flahive sent me.
You sure?
I’m sure, I say.
I can call him, you know.
I just sit there.
The rain is coming into the Camaro. Some garbage from one of the trucks blows by. At first I think it’s a rat but it’s only a black plastic bag.
Lloyd closes the door and goes back to the van.
I turn and look into the back seat. Besides several McDonald’s bags and a box of Schlitz Malt Liquor beer, there’s not much to look at.
T
he door opens and Lloyd sits in the driver’s seat. That’ll be twelve bucks, he says.
I go into my pocket and take out three singles and some change I found in Shay’s underwear drawer. The change totals eighty-nine cents.
This is all I got, I say.
He takes the three dollars and counts out the eighty-nine cents. Then he opens the gun, removes four bullets, and adjusts the cylinder.
You only got enough for two, he says. I hope you’re a good shot.
Then he hands me the gun.
I say, I’ll give you a handjob for the other four.
What? he says.
Flahive showed me how, I explain.
He did?
Yes.
Lloyd says, Flahive’s a fuckin pervert, and shakes his head.
Then he rolls his window down and shouts, Yo, Barnes! Flahive made this little dude give him a handjob! Fuckin evil bitch!
The African American man just shakes his head behind the window.
After a minute Lloyd looks at my gun and says, You know how to use one of these things?
Sort of, I say.
I loaded your two rounds in the carriage so they’ll fire first. Don’t mess with it. You just point and shoot. But make sure the safety’s off. This is the safety, he says, showing me the little switch on the side.
Like so, he says, and puts the safety back to where it was.
Then he hands me the gun with my two bullets and I put it in the pocket of my windbreaker.
How old are you anyway? he asks.
Eleven, I say. But I’ll be twelve in a few weeks.
Don’t do anything stupid with that thing, he says.
I won’t, I say. It’s for protection.
Yeah, he says, we could all use some protection these days. Fuckin gangs movin in everywhere. Motherfuckers are gonna put me outta business.
Lloyd looks out the window for a moment and says, So you wanna smoke a joint or somethin?
I say, No, thanks. I gotta get home.
Then he says, Cool. If you see Flahive tell him he’s a punk.
Okay, I say, and then I open the door.
Later, he says.
I close the door and walk away.
The Costco trucks look like they know just about everything.
The rain has gotten colder.
I would say that it is freezing.
As I walk by the van I can feel that African American man watching me behind the window.
I put my hand on my gun.
It feels different now.
18
That night I sleep with my gun under my pillow.
I have a dream that I’m a lion.