Eating the Moon

by Mark David Campbell

  “Good morning,” Richard said. “You look cooler than me this morning.”

  “I wasn’t sure if hot coffee would be right, so I also brought you one of those frozen coffee things.”

  “Oh, that was very thoughtful. It’s like an oven in here today.”

  Guy took a clear plastic cup with a dome lid out of the bag and handed it to Richard. He took a foam coffee cup out for himself and placed the bag in the waste bin.

  “You’re not having one of these?” Richard sucked on the straw that was wedged through the dome lid.

  “No, I’ll stick to my regular coffee and leave the milkshakes to you kids.”

  Richard stopped sucking on the straw, removed the lid, and took a small drink from the cup before reaching over and placing it on the desk.

  Guy walked over to the sofa and sat down slowly, grunting slightly as he did so. “I’m a little stiff today. I’m getting too old for this nonsense.”

  “Why, have you been working out a little too much?”

  “Well, you might say that. Actually, I went on a little trip to Cobourg.”

  “Did you drive?”

  “Oh no. Last week I gave my car to a chubby little chap I met at Sailors.”

  “You gave it or lent it to him?”

  “No, I gave it to him.”

  Richard scrunched up his face. “Was he a good friend?”

  “Nope. Actually, the other evening was the first time I talked with him. His name is Joel or Joey—one of those soap opera names—usually comes in with his tall skinny friend, but he was alone the other night. He’s the young chap I had sex with in the dark room at the Black Eagle a few weeks ago, remember?”

  Richard nodded.

  “Anyway, it seems like his tall skinny friend had abandoned him to head off to Provincetown for a week with the cool crowd.” Guy yawned and stretched. “And this kid wanted to drive down there on his own.”

  “You know people don’t usually give their car away to people they’ve just met in a bar, don’t you?” Richard held out his hands. “Was it an old car?”

  “Brand-new Compressor. Just bought it last year, but I don’t use it much. Don’t really get a whole lot of pleasure out of it sitting in the garage collecting dust.”

  “Yeah, but….”

  “Look,” Guy said as if he were about to explain something so obvious even a child could understand. “For me it was just a stupid toy. For that poor kid, it might be the defining moment in his life. Who knows? But I do know this. His nasty friend is going to shit himself when that kid shows up in P-town driving a sixty-thousand-dollar Mercedes.”

  Richard covered his eyes with his hands and laughed, shaking his head. “Umm, so how did you get to Cobourg? Did you take the bus or the train?”

  Guy stretched both arms over his head and groaned. “No, actually I swam down the lake.”

  “What! Swam? Cobourg must be a hundred and fifty kilometers away.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Guy said. “Pretty silly, huh?”

  “Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me you swam all the way to Cobourg?” Richard crossed his arms and sat straight up in his chair.

  “No. I realized that Cobourg was a lot farther than I had anticipated, so I only swam as far as Scarborough.”

  “Scarborough must be—what?—at least thirty kilometers down the lake.” Richard’s mouth hung open.

  “Well, I had my flippers and a float board. All the same, it took me about fifteen hours. But don’t worry. I was wearing my swim trunks this time.”

  Richard shook his head. “What did you do when you reached Scarborough?” He cocked one eyebrow.

  “Slept on a beach that night and continued by foot Sunday morning.”

  “So you’re telling me you walked to Cobourg?”

  “Nope, only got as far as Port of Newcastle. Then decided I had to come back. Didn’t want to be late for our Monday-morning session.”

  “When did you get back?”

  “’Bout four this morning.”

  Richard breathed in deeply. He propped his chin on his hand. “Were you searching for something, or were you running away from something?”

  “Good question.” Guy took a slow sip of his coffee. “Both, I guess.” Guy continued on with his story.

  KIZO IS standing near the canoe holding up the remains of our net as Pico and I walk across the sand toward him.

  “What happened?”

  Pico wades over to the boat and picks up two broken spears.

  “I should not have left our net and spears here at the beach overnight where they could find them.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Tara,” Pico growls as he carries the broken spears back.

  “Tara?” I furrow my brow. “But why would the Tara people come all the way from the Far Island just to destroy our fishing gear?”

  “It’s a warning to stay away. Swordfish season is coming, and the big fish run in the deep water between the reef and their Island. The Tara say the swordfish are theirs, and they do not want us fishing them.”

  “Well, what can we do now without a net or spears?”

  “I will go back to my cottage and get my other net. Pico, ask Lalli for his extra spear.” Kizo throws the ruined net onto the sand and walks back toward the village.

  A short while later, Kizo returns. We push the canoe into the water, and Pico and I climb in. Luca has still not appeared. I look toward the trail leading to their hillside camp. “Is Luca coming?”

  Just then Luca appears from the trees and staggers down the beach with a grog gourd in his hand. “Hey, Kizo,” he calls out. “You weren’t going to leave me behind, were you?”

  “C’mon,” I yell. “Get in.”

  Luca stumbles knee-deep into the water and up to the boat. He braces himself on the gunwales with one hand, carefully holding his gourd high in the air with the other. Then, as if in slow motion, he sits down in the water. “Oops!” He laughs. “I seem to have wet my pants.”

  I laugh nervously as Kizo lifts him to his feet. “Are you sure you’re in any condition to come out with us this morning?”

  “I’m fine. Just lost my sea legs, that’s all,” he slurs and falls forward, but Kizo catches him. “Okay. I’m just going to lie down over there under that big old coconut tree for a while.” His outstretched arm wavers as he points. “You boys go. I’ll be fine. Just fine.”

  Kizo picks him up and carries him over to the coconut tree. He seats him gently in the sand and kisses his forehead. Luca tries to swat him away but only connects with air. “I’m gonna stay here and take a little nap.” Luca takes a swig from the gourd and falls backward onto the sand. Kizo stands there looking like he doesn’t know what to do.

  “C’mon, Kizo,” I call. “He’s fine. We’ll pick him up when we get back.”

  “Go, go, go, go…,” Luca mumbles and waves his hand spastically.

  Kizo hesitantly returns to the boat and shoves us out. He jumps in the stern and paddles toward the reef, all the while looking over his shoulder to where Luca is stretched out on the beach.

  Kizo is completely devoted to Luca and looks after him as if he were a child. All the same, it’s been moons since I’ve seen Luca without a grog gourd in his hand. I don’t think he’s bathing anymore, and he’s even started to smell like grog when he sweats. I’m growing more worried about him each day.

  That night the Reds have organized a kind of singsong competition between the brotherhoods. As I head toward the great bonfire down at the beach, I pass Mazu and Jab. Mazu leans his bony elbow on Jab’s head, flicks the bib of his loincloth, and throws out his hip in one smooth gesture. I quickly glance at his exposed butt and try not to grimace. “Is Nando at home with the other children tonight?” he says in a mocking tone, and both he and Jab snicker.

  I cringe.

  “Oh, don’t look like that,” he says. “I’m only having a bit of fun with you. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before you will want to have some fun
with me too.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes seductively.

  I’m just about to say something nasty to Mazu for the way he treats Nando when Pico appears and growls at them. They both jump back. Pico grabs my arm and pulls me away. We walk over to the bonfire and greet everyone at the gathering, and all the while I look around nervously for Luca. No sign of him or Kizo. Lalli wraps his arms around me and hands me a grog gourd. I kiss his neck and take a swig. The drumbeats begin, and we all sway to the rhythm. Then an ear-piercing birdcall catches everyone’s attention. We look up at Luca and Kizo, who are standing on the cliff waving torches. Pico and I make silly birdcalls back at them. Luca bends his arms behind his back and flaps them as he struts around like a chicken. Then he lets out a whoop and comes bounding down the trail with Kizo following. Once on the beach, he bounces around, hugging and kissing everybody. Luca darts over to Den, who is sitting shyly by himself, throws him over his shoulder, and carries him toward the bonfire while Kizo slaps out a rhythm on Den’s butt.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Okay, let’s get this party started,” Luca calls out. “Who’s first?”

  Lalli, who is a Blue brother, begins by singing a raucous song about riding a fish as he dances like a rodeo rider. The crowd cheers, laughs, and dances along with him, and the grog flows freely.

  “C’mon, Kiddo.” Luca jumps up behind me and gives me a hug. “It’s time for the Green brothers.” Luca holds the grog gourd up and pours some in my mouth. I start to choke and spit half of it out onto my chest.

  “Careful, Kiddo. This stuff burns a little on the way down.” He takes a large swig. “Okay, you’re on.” He gives me a little shove out toward the bonfire. I’m surrounded by flickering silhouettes of men. Luca waves his hands up and down. “Shh, shh, everybody. Listen up.” He takes another big gulp of grog.

  When I was young I often made up little songs to sing to myself, so it’s not too difficult for me to create a song about the sea. Kizo hands me the grog gourd, I take another swig, clear my throat, and begin to sing a melancholy tune as I swerve and sway like the rhythm of the sea.

  “Oh little squid, you swim alone,

  The coral reef, you call your home.

  You have no tail, you have no fin,

  With your arms, is how you swim.

  Up and down, you float and sink,

  Oh little squid, you shoot your ink.”

  And I throw my arms into the air to signal the end of my song. But instead of cheers, I hear a low groan from the crowd while Mazu and Jab titter like a couple of hyenas. Pico covers his head with his arms. Suddenly Luca bursts in, laughing hysterically and dancing around the bonfire.

  I make a quick retreat to where Kizo is standing. “I need a drink, big boy.” Kizo pours some grog into my mouth then folds me into his giant arms and rocks me. I bury my face in his hairy chest.

  Luca is still laughing as he bounds over to us. “That was so brave. Not everyone has the courage to admit they have a small dick and like to wank.”

  I lift my face from Kizo’s chest. “Small dick? What are you talking about?”

  “Kiddo! The songs are not supposed to be bucolic images of the sea! Watch and learn how the Reds do it.” Luca takes an enormous drink of grog, leaps to the center of the ring, and begins to sing loudly off-key.

  “Big fish, little fish,

  Red fish, green,

  I’ve had all the fish,

  In the deep blue sea.

  Of all the fish,

  That I have ever seen.

  Kizo has the biggest.

  Yes, he’s the fish for me.”

  Luca points to Kizo with both hands, and the crowd goes wild. They sweep Kizo into the center as they dance and sing, “Big fish, little fish….” Kizo lifts Luca up and dances with him on his shoulders. I stand aside and sulk. Then I think, if I’m ever going to live down my reputation as a squid, I’d better join in the fun. Later, I partially redeem myself with a badly rhyming song about a surfacing dolphin spurting me in the face.

  We sing and dance and drink around the bonfire, the silliness continuing on into the night. With each song, Luca dances faster and harder, coming dangerously closer to the flames and only pausing to take great gulps from the gourd. Suddenly he stops and stares into the flames as if he’s catching his breath. Pico and I form a conga line and dance around the fire. Mazu immediately runs up and grabs hold of my butt, his hands creeping farther toward my crotch with every bounce. Kizo grabs hold of Luca’s butt and tries to steer him toward us, but Luca is frozen and refuses to budge, his eyes still fixed on the flames.

  Suddenly he yells, “Fire!”

  I think he’s starting a new song or just yelling out nonsense for the fun of it. I yell back, “Yeah. Burn, man, burn!”

  “Fire!” he yells again with panic in his voice. “It’s burning. She’s gonna blow. Abandon ship. She’s going to blow!”

  He runs in circles, frantically pushing people away from the bonfire. Kizo trips and falls on top of Mazu, and I trip over Pico. Some of the men continue to dance and laugh while others stand and look confused.

  “Oh shit,” I say to Kizo. “Something’s wrong.”

  By the time we get to our feet, Luca has run off down the beach screaming in terror. “Fire, abandon ship!”

  When we catch up with him, he’s curled in a tight ball, wedged into a nook in the cliff at the end of the beach. “We are all going to burn,” he repeats over and over. “We’re all going to burn.”

  I remembered my mother saying, “Guilt leaves a stain that never washes out.”

  Kizo lifts him into his arms, and we take him back to the village. Shortly after we have gotten him settled in Kizo’s hut, a strange, savage-looking old man arrives. His tanned and leathery frame is straight and tall, a dirty loincloth is loosely strung around his waist, and he’s covered in tattoos and piercings from head to toe.

  “He is Tukuman, the Seer,” Kizo says. “He will know what to do.”

  I’m immediately taken aback. So this is the great Tukuman, the man Nando is so dedicated to—my competition? I cringe at the sight of him. Although it’s common for an older man to pair with a younger man, like Den and Molap, how could Nando be in love with a freaky old man like Tukuman? Then I feel guilty for my selfishness, and my thoughts return to concern for Luca.

  Tukuman turns and looks at me, roars something incomprehensible, and points to the doorway.

  “I’m not leaving him alone with this guy.” But Kizo and Pico grab me and pull me outside the hut. For the next hour or so, we sit huddled together waiting for Tukuman’s diagnosis. Suddenly, Tukuman appears in the doorway. He speaks so fast that I can’t understand him. He grunts and spits, then stomps off into the darkness.

  “What did he say? What did he say?”

  “The grog has captured Luca and carried him into the world of dreams. The spirits are too strong for him there. He must not drink grog or they will consume him.” Kizo shakes his head. “It’s my fault.”

  “It’s no one’s fault.” I hug Kizo. “What do we do now?”

  “He will be fine in a few days, but for now he must rest.” Kizo looks to the ground.

  A few days later, while I’m sitting at the signal fire, I spot Luca walking slowly up the trail. He looks weak and jittery and is running with sweat.

  “It’s good to see you out and about, Boy Scout. I missed you,” I say in a cheery voice, doing my best to mask my concern. “How are you feeling?”

  “I missed you too, Kiddo. But I’m fine now, really.” He sits down beside me and puts his arm around me. “I guess I’m on the wagon for a while.”

  I snort. “Luca, you’re on the wagon permanently.” My words sound as if they’ve come from my father, not me.

  “Probably right. I’m a teetotaler now. Listen, I’ve decided to move up to high ground.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Kizo and I are going to build a camp up in the hills. There’s a good spot a
bout there.” Luca points to an outcropping part way up the volcano. “I’ll have a bird’s-eye view of the reef and any ships that come close.”

  “But you’ll be all alone up there. What if something happens?” Now my words sound more like my mother has spoken them.

  “Hey, relax, Kiddo. Kizo is staying with me, and it’s only an hour’s walk up and twenty minutes down. Besides, as you said, I need to stay away from the grog, and it’s too hard living right here in the village.”

  “Don’t you think you’ll get lonely up there?” The truth is I don’t want to be without him, but I can’t quite find the words to tell him.

  The next day, Kizo and Luca move up to the hills, and for the following couple of weeks, Kizo comes down every morning before dawn to go out fishing with Pico and me while Luca remains up at their camp. Then one morning Luca reappears on the beach looking rested and ready, and we head out in the canoe together as if nothing ever happened. All morning long he and Pico invent songs, which they sing off-key together. Luca splashes Pico with water and grabs the back of my loincloth and hoists it up the crack of my butt.

  That afternoon back at the beach, he ties a live fish to the back of Molap’s loincloth. When Molap realizes there’s something wriggling behind him, he jumps around frantically trying to free himself while everyone laughs. Then Luca chases Den down the beach with a sea cucumber. “C’mon, Den. I’ve got a big green penis just for you!”

  When Lalli falls asleep under a tree while mending his net, Luca draws enormous eyebrows on him with a piece of charcoal. Lalli walks around for about twenty minutes before Molap tells him why everyone is laughing. That afternoon at the bathing pool, Luca and Pico build a swing, and we dive into the water making Tarzan calls.

  For the next while, Luca continues to arrive with Kizo before dawn, and we all go out fishing together the way we used to. I’m still Kiddo, but now he has started calling Kizo Tin Man. It feels like the old Luca is back—the Luca without grog.