My Mistress's Sparrow Is Dead: Great Love Stories, From Chekhov to Munro

by Jeffrey Eugenides

Larry, whose side are you on? Dove said.

  I am on all sides, Slippen said.

  You see this thing from various perspectives, Andrews said.

  Anyway, this is academic, Delacourt said. He has Requested his

  Paperwork and we must provide it.

  His poor mother, Dove said. The sacrifices she made, and now this.

  Oh, please, Slippen said. His mother.

  Larry, sorry, did you say something? Dove said.

  Which mother did he get? Slippen said.

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  Larry, please go to that Taste-and-Rate in Conference Room 6, Delacourt said. See how they are doing with those CheezWands.

  Which mother did we give him? Slippen said. The redhead baking

  the pie? The blonde in the garden?

  Larry, honestly, Dove said. Are you freaking out?

  The brunette at prayer? Slippen said. Who, putting down her prayer book, says, as they all say: Stay where you are, do not get distracted, have a content and productive life, and I will be happy too?

  Larry has been working too hard, Andrews said.

  Plus taking prescription pills not prescribed to him, Delacourt said.

  I have just had it with all of this, Slippen said and stomped off to the Observation Room.

  Ha, that Larry! Dove said. He did not even know your mom,

  Randy.

  Only we did, Andrews said.

  Very nice lady, Delacourt said.

  Made terrific pies, Dove said.

  And I was like, Do you guys think I am that stupid, I know some-

  thing is up, because how did Slippen know my mom’s exact words said to me on my private Memory Loop?

  Then there was this long silence.

  Then Delacourt said, Randy, when you were a child, you thought as a child. Do you know that one?

  And I did know that one, it being LI 88643 for Trojan Ribbed.

  Well, you are not a child anymore, he said. You are a man. A man in the middle of making a huge mistake.

  We had hoped it would not come to this, Dove said.

  Please accompany us to the Facility Cinema, Delacourt said.

  Which that was a room off of Dining, with a big-screen plasma TV

  and Pottery Barn leather couch and a deluxe Orville Redenbacher Corn Magician.

  Up on the big-screen came this old-fashioned-looking film of a plain young girl with stringy hair, smoking a cigarette in a house that looked pretty bad.

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  And this guy unseen on the video said, Okay, tell us precisely why, in your own words.

  And the girl said, Oh, I dunno, due to my relation with the dad, I got less than great baby interest?

  Okay, said the unseen voice. And the money is not part?

  Well, sure, yeah, I can always use money, she said.

  But it is not the prime reason? the voice said. It being required that it not be the prime reason, but rather the prime reason might be, for example, your desire for a better life for your child?

  Okay, she said.

  Then they pulled back and you could see bashed-out windows with

  cardboard in them and the counters covered with dirty dishes and in the yard a car up on blocks.

  And you have no objections to the terms and conditions? the voice said. Which you have read in their entirety?

  It ’s all fine, the girl said.

  Have you read it? the voice said.

  I read in it, she said. Okay, okay, I read it cover to freaking cover.

  And the name change you have no objection to? the voice said.

  Okay, she said. Although why Randy?

  And the No-Visit Clause you also have no objection to? the voice

  said.

  Fine, she said, and took a big drag.

  Then Dove tapped on the wall twice and the movie Paused.

  Do you know who that lady is, Randy? he said.

  No, I said.

  Do you know that lady is your mom? he said.

  No, I said.

  Well, that lady is your mom, Randy, he said. We are sorry you had to learn it in this manner.

  And I was like, Very funny, that is not my mom, my mom is pretty, with red hair in a bun.

  Randy, we admit it, Delacourt said. We gave some of you stylized mothers, in your Memory Loops, for your own good, not wanting you to feel bad about who your real mothers were. But in this time of crisis we

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  must give you the straight skinny. That is your real mother, Randy, that is your real former house, that is where you would have been raised, had your mother not answered our ad all those years ago, that is who you are.

  So much in us is hardwired! You cannot fight fate without some significant help from an intervening entity, such as us, such as our resources, which we have poured into you in good faith all these years. You are a prince, we have made you a prince. Please do not descend back into the muck.

  Please reconsider, Randy, Dove said. Sleep on it.

  Will you? Delacourt said. Will you at least think about it?

  Tell the truth, that thing with my mom had freaked me out, it was like my foundation had fallen away, like at LI 83743 for Advil, where the guy’s foundation of his house falls away and he thunks his head on the floor of Hell and thus needs a Advil, which the devil has some but won’t give him any.

  So I said I would think about it.

  As he left, Dove unhit Pause, and I had time to note many things on that video, such as that lady’s teeth were not good, such as my chin and hers were similar, such as she referred to our dog as Shit Machine, which what kind of name is that for a dog, such as at one point they zoomed in on this little baby sitting on the floor in just a diaper, all dirty and looking sort of dumb, and I could see very plain it was me.

  Just before Dinner, Dove came back in.

  Randy, your Paperwork, per your Request, he said. Do you still

  want it?

  I don’t know, I said. I’m not sure.

  You are making me very happy, Dove said.

  And he sent in Tony from Catering with this intense Dinner of steak au poivre and our usual cheese tray with Alsatian olives, and a milkshake in my monogrammed cup, and while I watched Sunset Terror Home on the big-screen, always a favorite, Bedtime passed and nobody came and got me, them letting me stay up as late as I wanted.

  Later that night in my Privacy Tarp I was wakened by someone crawling in, which, hitting my Abercrombie & Fitch nightlight, I saw it was Slippen.

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  Randy, I am so sorry for my part in all of this, he whispered. I just want to say you are a great kid and always have been since Day One and in truth I at times have felt you were more of a son than my own personal sons, and likewise with Carolyn, who was the daughter I never had.

  Well I did not know what to say to that, it being so personal and all, plus he was like laying or lying practically right on top of me and I could smell wine on his breath. We had always learned in Religion that if something is making you uncomfortable you should just say it, so I just said it, I said, Sir, this is making me uncomfortable.

  You know what is making me uncomfortable? he said. You farting

  around in here while poor Carolyn sits in the Lerner Center all alone, big as a house, scared to death. Randy, one only has one heart, and when that heart is breaking via thinking of what is in store for poor Carolyn, one can hardly be blamed for stepping in, can one? Can one? Randy, do you trust me?

  He had always been good to me, having taught me so much, like how to hit a Wiffle and how to do a push-up, and once he even brought in this trough and taught me and Ed and Josh to fish, and how fun was that, all of us laughing and feeling around on the floor for the fish we kept dropping during those moments of involuntary blindness that would occur as various fish-related LIs flashed in our heads, like the talking wh
ale for Stouffer’s FishMeals (LI 38322), like the fish and loafs Jesus makes at LI 83722 and then that one dude goes, Lord, this bread is dry, can you not summon up some ButterSub?

  I do trust you, I said.

  Then come on, he said, and crawled out of my Privacy Tarp.

  We crossed the Common Area and went past Catering, which I had

  never been that far before, and soon were standing in front of this door labeled Caution Do Not Open Without Facility Personnel Accompaniment.

  Randy, do you know what is behind this door? Slippen said.

  No, I said.

  Take a look, he said.

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  And smiling a smile like that mother on Christmas morning at LI

  98732 for Madpets.com, who throws off that tablecloth to reveal a real horse in their living room chewing on the rug, Slippen threw open that door.

  Looking out, I saw no walls and no rug and no ceiling, only lawn

  and flowers, and above that a wide black sky with stars, which all of that made me a little dizzy, there being no glass between me and it.

  Then Slippen very gently pushed me Out.

  And I don’t know, it is one thing to look out a window, but when you are Out, actually Out, that is something very powerful, and how embarrassing was that, because I could not help it, I went down flat on my gut, checking out those flowers, and the feeling of the one I chose was like the silk on that Hermès jacket I could never seem to get Reserved because Vance was always hogging it, except the flower was even better, it being very smooth and built in like layers? With the outside layer being yellow, and inside that a white thing like a bell, and inside the white bell-like thing were fifteen (I counted) smaller bell-like red things, and inside each red thing was an even smaller orange two-dingly-thing combo.

  Which I was like, Dude, who thought this shit up? And though I

  knew very well from Religion it was God, still I had never thought so high of God as I did just then, seeing the kind of stuff He could do when He put His or Her mind to it.

  Also amazing was, laying there on my gut, I was able to observe

  very slowly some grass, on a blade basis! And what I found was, each blade is its total own blade, they are not all exact copies as I had always thought when looking at the Rustic Village Apartments lawn from the much-coveted window seat. No, each blade had a special design of up-and-down lines on it, plus some blades were wider than others, and some were yellow, with some even having little holes that I guessed had been put there via bugs chewing them?

  By now as you know I am sometimes a kidder, with Humor always

  ranked by my peers as one of my Principal Positives on my Yearly Evaluation, but being totally serious? If I live one million years I will never

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  forget all the beautiful things I saw and experienced in that kickass outside yard.

  Isn’t it something? Slippen said. But look, stand up, here is something even better.

  And I stood up, and here came this bland person in blue scrubs, and my first thought was, Ouch, why not accentuate that killer bone structure with some makeup, and also what is up with that dull flat hair, did you never hear of Bumble & Bumble Plasma Volumizer?

  And then she said my name.

  Not my name of Randy but my real name of Jon.

  Which is how I first got the shock of going, Oh my God, this poor washed-out gal is my Carolyn.

  And wow was her belly ever bigger.

  Then she touched my face very tender and said, The suspense of waiting is over and this year’s Taurus far exceeds expectations already high in this humble farming community.

  And I was like, Carolyn?

  And she was like, The beauty of a reunion by the sea of this mother and son will not soon again be parted and all one can say is amen and open another bag of chips, which by spreading on a thin cream on the face strips away the harsh effect of the destructive years.

  Then she hugged me, which is when I saw the gaping hole in her

  neck where her gargadisk had formerly been.

  But tell you the truth, even with a DermaFilled® neckhole and nada makeup and huge baby belly, still she looked so pretty, like someone had put a light inside her and switched it on.

  But I guess it is true what they say at LI 23005, life is full of ironic surprises, where that lady in a bikini puts on sunscreen and then there is this nuclear war and she takes a sip of her drink only she has been like burned to a crisp, because all that time Out not one LI had come up, as if my mind was stymied or holding its breath, but now all of the sudden here came all these LIs of Flowers, due to I had seen those real-life flowers, such as big talking daisies for Polaroid (LI 10119), such as that kid who drops a jar of applesauce but his anal mom totally melts when

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  he hands her a sunflower (LI 22365), such as the big word PFIZER that as you pan closer is made of roses (LI 88753), such as LI 73486, where as you fly over wildflowers to a Acura Legend on a cliff the announcer goes, Everyone is entitled to their own individual promised land.

  And I blinked on Pause but it did not Pause, and blinked on End but it did not End.

  Then up came LIs of Grass, due to I had seen that lawn, such as an old guy sprinkling grass seed while repetitively checking out his neighbor-girl who is sunbathing, and then in spring he only has grass in that one spot (LI 11121), such as LI 76567, with a sweeping lawn leading up to a mansion for Grey Poupon, such as (LI 00391) these grass blades screaming in terror as this lawnmower approaches but then when they see it is a Toro they put on little party hats.

  Randy, can you hear me? Slippen said. Do you see Carolyn? She

  has been waiting out here an hour. During that hour she has been going where she wants, looking at whatever she likes. See what she is doing now? Simply enjoying the night.

  And that was true. Between flinches and blinks on End I could dimly persee her sitting cross-legged near me, not flinching, not blinking, just looking pretty in the moonlight with a look on her face of deep concern for me.

  Randy, this could all be yours, Slippen was saying. This world, this girl!

  And then I must have passed out.

  Because when I came to I was sitting inside that door marked Cau-

  tion Do Not Open Without Facility Personnel Accompaniment, with

  my Paperwork in my lap and all my Coordinators standing around me.

  Randy, Dove said. Larry Slippen here claims that you wish to Exit.

  Is this the case? Did you in fact Request your Paperwork, then thrust it at him?

  Okay, I said. Yes.

  So they rushed me to Removals, where this nurse named Vivian was

  like, Welcome, please step behind that screen and strip off, then put these on.

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  Which I did, I dropped my Calvin Klein khakis and socks and

  removed my Country Road shirt as well as my Old Navy boxers, and

  put on the dreaded blue scrubs.

  Best of luck, Randy, Slippen said, leaning in the door. You’ll be in my prayers.

  Out out out, Vivian said.

  Then she gave me this Patient Permission Form, which the first

  question was, Is patient aware of risk of significantly reduced postoperative brain function?

  And I wrote, Yes.

  And then it said, Does patient authorize Dr. Edward Kenton to

  perform all procedures associated with a complete gargadisk removal, including but not limited to e-wire severance, scar-tissue removal, force-ful Kinney Maneuver (if necessary to fully disengage gargadisk), sutur-ing, and postoperative cleansing using the Foreman Vacuum Device, should adequate cleaning not be achievable via traditional methods?

  And I wrote, Yes.

  I have been here since Wednesday, due to Dr. Kenton is at a wed-

  ding.

&nbs
p; I want to thank Vivian for all this paper, and Mr. Slippen for being the father I never had, and Carolyn for not giving up on me, and Dr.

  Kenton, assuming he does not screw it up.

  (Ha ha, you know what, Dr. Kenton, I am just messing with you,

  even if you do screw it up, I know you tried your best. Only please do not screw it up, ha ha ha!)

  Last night they let Carolyn send me a fax from the Lerner Center, and it said, I may not look my best or be the smartest apple on the apple-cart, but believe me, in time I will again bake those ninety-two pies.

  And I faxed back, However you are is fine with me, I will see you soon, look for me, I will be the one with the ripped-up neck, smacking himself in the head!

  No matter what, she faxed, at least we will now have a life, that life dreamed of by so many, living in freedom with all joys and all fears, let it begin, I say, the balloon of our excitement will go up up up, to that land which is the land of true living, we will not be denied!

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  I love you, I wrote.

  Love you too, she wrote.

  Which I thought that was pretty good, it being so simple and all, and it gave me hope.

  Because maybe we can do it.

  Maybe we can come to be normal, and sit on our porch at night, the porch of our own house, like at LI 87326, where the mom knits and the dad plays guitar and the little kid works very industrious with his Speak

  & Spell, and when we talk, it will make total sense, and when we look at the stars and moon, if choosing to do that, we will not think of LI 44387, where the moon frowns down at this dude due to he is hiding in his barn eating Rebel CornBells instead of proclaiming his SnackLove aloud, we will not think of LI 09383, where this stork flies through some crying stars who are crying due to the baby who is getting born is the future Mountain Dew Guy, we will not think of that alien at LI 33081 descending from the sky going, Just what is this thing called a Cinnabon?

  In terms of what we will think of, I do not know. When I think of what we will think of, I draw this like total blank and get scared, so scared my Peripheral Area flares up green, like when I have drank too much soda, but tell the truth I am curious, I think I am ready to try.

  r e d r o s e , w h i t e r o s e

  e i l e e n c h a n g