Reproduction

by Ian Williams

  +

  The morning do you hear that after Edgar’s arrival was the first cold morning of the fall. Oliver approached Felicia accusingly as she was rolling lint from her coat near the basement entrance.

  Why is he using my towel? Oliver held up the evidence.

  Talk to Army, Felicia said.

  Army, Oliver called.

  He not home.

  Edgar wafted outside the window into a nearby door frame. The way they were positioned, with Felicia between them and facing Oliver, only the men could see each other. the deaf could hear that Oliver felt the urge to do something grand yet natural. Give Edwer not the dog something bloody pot hound to look at. He leaned forward to kiss Felicia on the cheek, something he did not typically—ever—do. But she jerked her head away and to save face Oliver quickly pretended he was adjusting the collar of her coat. When the door closed behind Felicia, Oliver put his hands on his hips. Edgar unpaused the wind and floated across the doorway without a word.

  * * *

  +

  Riot arrived at Heather’s apartment, unannounced, before she left for work. He could hear a whirring inside. She swung open the door with a stankface that he hoped was intended for someone else.

  Hey, Runaway, she said.

  Pop-Pop called you.

  Felicia, Heather said. She frowned at the sound of his voice. Felicia was convinced you were already here and I was covering for you. You should answer your phone.

  Heather had a sleeve of tribal tattoos, and beyond her shoulder Riot saw a sleeve of books along the wall from the kitchen to the bedroom: anthropology, feminism, critical race theory, Fifty Shades, Zane. She also had a healthy, if outdated, collection of DVDs.

  Riot heaved the backpack from his shoulder. For the record, a runaway is, like, an underage kid who leaves home. After eighteen, I can’t technically be a runaway.

  Fine. Hi, Sexual Terrorist.

  Drôle.

  A girl he didn’t know but had friended during orientation had posted a missive on Riot’s Facebook, calling him an online sexual terrorist. Riot was considering deactivating his account.

  Heather said, Congratulations on being a landmark case in what could be considered assault. Electrossault? Electrassault?

  I didn’t assault anybody. And there’s no case. They kicked me out. Done.

  This stuff has a way of following you.

  It’s behind me.

  Heather continued juicing carrots and kale while Riot unpacked his essentials. He plugged in his laptop and set it on the breakfast bar. The noise from the blender made it unnecessary to talk. He transferred the files from his trip. Dark views from a bus window, the rhythmic pattern of poles, like a music beat, sleeping passengers. On his Facebook, there were a few trickling comments from the sexual terrorist debate, including two terse messages from Army to the coalition of indignant girls who were calling for Riot’s castration: Blow me. Up. Buh-bam!! and Shoot all over u. Mature. Riot clicked away.

  Heather set a quarter cup of vegetable juice in front of him as he was scrolling through photographs posted by the small nation that their extended family had become. It was that zone in life, Heather’s more than his, where every other week someone they knew was having a baby. Heather was godmother to one of Diane’s four children.

  Every year he expands, Heather said. No wonder he’s broke. She was looking at an album of Army’s Neighbourhood Birthday and Labour Day Barbecue that, as of 2008, ended illegally with fireworks, thanks to a few of her pyro cousins and Logan, Riot’s childhood friend.

  It’s his way of—

  Giving back to the community. Yeah, yeah.

  He did a product relaunch this year for Canafries.

  He’s been using that barbecue as a taxable expense for years. Heather leaned in, probably to get a better look at Diane’s eyebrows. In the photograph, Diane, Felicia, and a girl were spreading a gingham table cloth in the foreground while Army was picking a spring roll off a cousin’s husband’s plate in the background. Is that Army’s girlfriend now?

  That’s a dude.

  No, her. Heather pointed.

  That’s Faye. You know Faye. Riot sipped his foaming green trial.

  That’s not Faye. She get implants or something?

  That’s just one of them— Riot hoisted imaginary breasts.

  Push-up bras. You can say bra.

  Riot turned back to the screen. Another photo. Army was talking to one of their cousins in the background but his eyes were trained on Faye in the foreground. Girlfriend? He recalled how, when Army picked them up, Faye used to get in the car well before he could get everything he needed from his locker and lean back suddenly when he opened the passenger door. There was an audible click as Riot set down his glass of grass.

  She’s my age, Riot said. But he thought, Of course. No, of course.

  Heather shook her head.

  What else?

  No, not that. She was studying Riot. You just sound different in person. That’s all. I’m used to you in simulacrum, seeing you on Facebook or hearing you through my headphones but it’s weird to, like, see and hear you-you.

  Riot shrugged. He had lived with her before. But truthfully, she lost him at simulacrum.

  Yeah, well, listen, I’m off. Heather dropped her travel cup of slime into a large bag, spun two keys from her keychain and gave them to Riot. These are my only keys, meaning you have to be home before six. Lock both locks.

  He was nodding at Heather and at the image of Army draculing Faye—everything plain in front of his face—when he realized that he didn’t have a toothbrush to scrub the nasty green taste from his tongue.

  * * *

  +

  Oliver wanted to know why his house had become Amnesty International.

  It’s been a week, he said. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom as Felicia applied mascara. Many of their morning conversations happened here. All this whispering in my own house. All this tiptoeing around nap time.

  Her eyes bulged.

  This is not a permanent arrangement, he said.

  Yet it had all the trappings of permanence. Army had set up Edgar on the basement and ground levels. He assigned the man his own mug, supplied towel service, placed Edgar’s toothbrush among his and Riot’s, gave him two pairs of Oliver’s wool work socks.

  I think a week is more than enough time to extend hospitality to a stranger, Oliver said.

  He’s not a stranger, Felicia said. But I agree with you.

  I deserve an explanation as to what’s going on.

  You want an explanation or you want the truth?

  Oliver ignored the question. Felicia said that from time to time when she was feeling righteous. You can’t get Army to bring somebody here to live rent free.

  Army brought him here on his own.

  So what? We don’t have to keep him. What is he, a puppy? I’m not a fool, Felicia. Oliver knew who this man was although Felicia would not admit it. He had watched his share of cuckold videos on the internet.

  Felicia’s wrist made tiny movements as if she were crocheting her lashes.

  Everybody’s just taking advantage of my good nature.

  Since when you have a good nature?

  What other man in my situation would allow somebody—what did Heather call them?—the one percent to camp in his house? Cancer or no cancer, I have Riot to think about, he said.

  I don’t know how, in a week’s time, you can’t get Riot back in this house.

  Me? What’s Army doing?

  Army’s in school.

  If it’s possible to exhale cynically, Oliver exhaled cynically.

  Get on a plane— Felicia began.

  I’m handling it. You get Mr. Cancer out of my house.

  I’m not fighting you, Oliver. Why you fighting me?

  It’s your problem.

  He’s not my problem, Felicia countered.

  He’s your baggage.

  Oliver, put him out if that’s what you want to do. Felicia picked some
loose mascara from the outside of her eye with her pinky.

  Don’t guilt me, Oliver said.

  No, I serious. If you want him out and you could do it under the eyes of the Almighty then go ahead. I didn’t bring him here, though, and I not going to be the one to throw him out.

  He’s basically trespassing.

  Take it up with Army.

  Oh, he’s studying so hard these days. I couldn’t possibly disturb him.

  Felicia returned the makeup brush to the case.

  Cuckold videos. Was it him or had she applied more makeup today than usual?

  * * *

  +

  When Felicia left for work, you were gone long Oliver went down two flights of stairs to the basement and rapped sharply on Edgar’s door. Smoke was practically curling from underneath. When he opened the door, there’d be flames and Edwar in a red suit, pointed tail, horns, gripping a pitchfork. There was no answer.

  Edgar, Oliver called I went down the side street near the entrance before opening the door.

  Edgar was sitting up I don’t think that does go anywhere in bed, it doesn’t reading a red children’s Bible with Felicia’s old glasses, and smoking. His shirt, from Army, just garages was deeply unbuttoned. The chemo had eaten his chest hair. Or maybe he was the kind of man that couldn’t grow chest hair.

  Edgar, Oliver said, I’ve asked you every day this week not to smoke in my home.

  Edgar raised his eyes, the houses aren’t so old that whole area of his face, they look old eyebrows everything, they’re not from the Bible, they feel old fixed Oliver in his gaze for a moment, they’re not then he went back to reading.

  If Edgar was going to be contemptuous maybe they’ve been smoking and disrespectful, Oliver would have no trouble calling him a taxi in twenty minutes.

  I apologize, Edgas said finally. He said it the way defendants via their lawyers say it around sentencing time.

  Explain why you can’t smoke outside.

  The window’s open.

  I can smell it all the way upstairs.

  Edgar remained mild.

  Who’s going to clean up after you? There’s a garage if you want to smoke. If you’re a guest in someone’s house, doesn’t it, Oliver needed an upper-class word, doesn’t it behoove you to be gracious enough not to smoke?

  Edgar stubbed the half-finished cigarette into the salsa lid he was using for an ashtray. There, he said. He smiled Bartlebly.

  Oliver turned to leave. He took one step there’s a great diner down the other way into the hallway I used to have late brunches there when I was in uni before turning around. 2:00 p.m. That’s not brunch why I came down here. Edgar’s mildness and capitulation had misled him into feeling as if he had achieved a victory. it’s breakfast and I know what it is but only women have brunch

  Oh?

  No.

  Edgar turned a thin page of Army’s old Bible. Do you know what any of this means?

  He was reading it, I was usually with a woman scanning pages, as a man who was inspecting it for something he may have missed earlier in life—time to see what the big deal if you must know was about—rather than searching it we used to go when we woke up with religious zeal or duty.

  Edgar, harlotry I’ve been speaking with Felicia and Army and we’ve decided that it’s time for you to go.

  You spoke with Armistice? good French toast Edgar pointed straight to the lie.

  There’s nothing more they used to make it without eggs we can do eggs are good for you for you they’re too here. reproductive Oliver didn’t intend to phrase his eviction that way.

  Edgar turned a page but they’re an integral part of French toast and scanned.

  Usually when people ask you something, call it something else then you respond. That’s how conversations work.

  What was the question?

  The man was playing German toast passive-aggressive Haitian toast with him. He was trying to make a monster is that where you’re from out of him. incorrect

  It wasn’t a question so much as a notification, Oliver said. I’ll call you a cab. It’s been very nice having you.

  Edgar began coughing, shrill, dog coughs.

  I’m very sorry that you’re ill, but if you can’t stop smoking, considering your diagnosis, then you need to consider the fact that we have an impressionable—

  My cancer’s not contagious. Ednar continued coughing. that dog barking driving me mad

  Oliver heard the bed in Riot’s room creak it’s like a yipping directly above them.

  I’m not saying it is. I’m saying that there’s a child in this house with allergies whose bedroom is just above yours and he can’t be inhaling all this second-hand smoke.

  Edgar coughed so vociferously you know what that mean that his eyes what watered. you don’t know He shook his head, meaning, tell me No child upstairs. Child left you.

  Before Edgar could say the words, Army was behind Oliver to the Matlock theme song, ready to defend his client.

  Morning, Army said. What’s going on?

  Could I trouble you for some water? Edgar said to Army, holding somebody go die when you hear a dog barking outside your window out a glass.

  Yeah, yeah, I think you have to dream it of course. Army took the glass either way and went to the bathroom.

  Get him distilled water, Oliver said to avoid appearing heartless.

  Army poured out the water and went to the kitchen.

  When he and Edgar were alone again, Oliver said, We can help you get dressed and call a cab or I’m sure Army would be happy to take you back and visit you from time to time if that’s what you want out of all this I’m gonna go outside and shoot that dog but you’re not going to wedge yourself in my family and—

  Oliver stopped when Army came back with the water for Edgar. Army put the water into the man’s hands with infinite care. He sat on the bed as Edgar drank.

  Jealousy never admits itself. Oliver remembered how Army used to put his feet on Oliver’s lap and watch TV. And it has no opposite.

  Army pulled the flaps of Edgar’s shirt closed.

  Whatcha reading, Boss?

  Edgar returned the glass to Army and spoke as if Oliver were dismissed. He said, Felicia left it on the nightstand. So it was Felicia sneaking into his room at night and placing chocolate on his pillows and singing Happy Birthday, Mr. President.

  It’s hard to get past the begats, Army said.

  I skipped to the end. Edner gave one last clearing cough.

  It has pictures if you don’t want to read.

  I only read the underlined parts. I don’t have much time.

  You got plenty of time.

  Listen to this. It’s from—Edgar looked at the top corner of the page—Revelation. And the kings of the earth, which one who have committed fornication which one what and lived deliciously with her, shall bewail her, the dog and lament for her, you still on that when they shall see the smoke of her burning.

  Sounds epic.

  Lived which one is going to die deliciously?

  Oliver couldn’t stand being deliberately ignored after he had made a clear demand. He said, Army, why don’t you help Edgar get dressed?

  Why? Army asked.

  I missed my last appointment nobody go die with the oncologist.

  You know, we all know you have cancer.

  Easy, Army said to Oliver over his shoulder. Go have a coffee.

  No, I’m sorry that he has cancer.

  Lemme talk to you, don’t spare my feelings real quick. Mutter will Army stood up.

  Lived deliciously, don’t say that lived deliciously, Ender repeated. The smoke of her burning.

  You’re not going to die, Army said.

  I’m sorry that you’re going to die well both of them will if you die, but I can’t have you living here.

  There, Oliver thought. He said it eventually in front of Army.

  * * *

  +

  Army led Oliver upstairs, sat him in the kitchen, and reheated some c
offee in the microwave. All of this should count as management experience. Sick man downstairs, sick man upstairs, brokering peace, negotiating mutually optimal outcomes.

  I understand where you’re coming from, Oliver. Believe you me, I do.

  You can’t just bring people here like it’s a bed and breakfast.

  First, he’s not people. Second, he probably owns like seventy bed and breakfases. Third, aren’t you called upon to be compassionate?

  Don’t give me that. Using the Bible as your prop.

  Blasphemer, Army said lightly.

  This is a man who will take everything and not make a single adjustment for anybody.

  Be that as it may, aren’t we called upon to give our cloak as well?

  You’re not talking to Felicia.

  Trust me, I’m not feeding you a line. Just give it another couple of days.

  Do you intend to make this permanent?

  He’s clearly not going to be here forever.

  He looks strong to me.

  Look, we’re going to our oncologist on Thursday.

  Our?

  Empathetic language, man.

  Oliver’s face was reddening. He was breathing heavily the way he did before explosions.

  Listen to me, Army, and listen good. (The microwave beeped.) I want this man out of my house. You’re getting drawn into something you can’t handle. I. Want. Him. Gone. That’s my bottom line. End of story. Final answer. Gone.

  Oliver took his mug of coffee and left to wait for Live with Kelly and Whoever.

  * * *

  A week after Edgar’s arrival, Army took Faye to Edgar’s house to help him with some chores, he said. She extolled the virtues of platonic male-female relations. Well this is how friends help friends whose fathers have cancer, he said to her, and she said fine, pulled her hair into a ponytail and came with him. They were pretty much back together. And really he wanted to show her that this showcase and more could be yours if the price is right.

  They worked in silence. He held open a plastic garbage bag while she cleaned out the fridge into it. Edgar didn’t have much fresh food. Containers of takeout. Various kinds of bread and bagels, a can of tuna open halfway.

  As I was saying— Army said.