Reproduction

by Ian Williams

  * * *

  +

  Oliver stayed away from the basement during the final days of Edgar’s life. He stayed outside of the house as much as possible, raking, bagging, laying down fertilizer for the winter. He washed the shovels, rolled snow tires from one spot in the garage to the other, pruned evergreens, removed the tomato risers. He listened to his tinnitus. He did whatever he could to avoid facing Edgar on Hendrix’s bed.

  He did whatever he could to avoid a patch of dirt where Hendrix (long stint with crystal meth, costly rehab that Oliver paid for, joined the army) cared for ants. He, Oliver, was caught between places he didn’t want to be, pushed away from the house (survived a roadside bomb) and pushed away from parts of the yard (captured, recorded) and pushed away from the hospital (executed naked in a dusty country). So why so much Sturm und Drang over one death when, to use a neutral example, 70,000 died in Sichuan? Over two deaths when 250,000 died when the tide suddenly disappeared? Over three deaths?

  * * *

  +

  Faye told Army that when she first moved to Canada everybody said she was Chinese although she preferred to say that she was from Hong Kong. She avoided saying certain words that made her sound Chinese. Tachnowogy.

  I sounded like Tweety, she said, reclining. But in the car, you used to listen to me like you were deaf.

  See, I listen.

  My grandmother said that after we left him my father clipped the lobes off his ears and cut off part of his tongue. They found him facedown on the fànzhuō where we used to eat dinner.

  Dead? Army asked

  Oh, that can’t kill you.

  If that don’t kill you, I don’t know what can.

  Blood, Faye said.

  I thought you said he drowned in a pool.

  He did.

  * * *

  +

  Without pausing the video, Riot left the hospital Tim Hortons so you planning to fly and leave Mutter alone and went upstairs where he found a comfortable seat in a waiting area.

  For a man who had little attachment to living, who spent his time on earth like a tourist, just checking out what this consciousness thing was about, Error took a long time to die. To be exact, Riot collected thirty-seven hours of footage.

  During the first day of recording, Army kept close watch of Edgar, making actor-like gestures of grief, the ER doctor-head-shake, the knuckle to the mouth, the sigh, the constantly revised announcement, I don’t think she’ll last the night I don’t think he’s going to make it to the afternoon, to the evening, to the night, to the morning. He had an audience in mind, because he said it to the camera in the absence of others.

  Then sometime during the first night, even more reason to stay all that play acting stopped and Army sat on the floor next to the bed, knees up, elbows balanced on knees, forehead lowered on the bridge of his forearms, that is, with his face hidden from the camera and pulled snot back into his nose, wiped his face with his wrist from time to time, and sighed wetly when he was done.

  * * *

  +

  When I was in high school, I had a barbershop in the garage, Army told Faye. Then I sold burgers for a while. Then I had a gym. Then a love service.

  A love service?

  Matchmaking, sort of. It didn’t pan out. Then Army catalogued selected failures: he screened bags in the airport, he delivered pizzas, he ran a pyramid scheme with Oliver’s nephew, the graphic design business, retail, retail, restaurant, retail, the talent management stuff, retail, food truck, retail, retail. Now there’s the moving company with Oliver’s truck and burliest nephews, the rentals that barely break even—I owe Oliver a bunch of money. There was the house-flip thing when the market softened a bit. French fries. Quit, fired for giving away pizzas, collapsed, on pause, fired for repeated tardiness, quit, fired for overcharging customers, quit, one client, fired for repeated tardiness, lawsuit pending, quit, fired for using customers’ credit card information.

  I don’t want to wrap people’s furniture in skins forever, he said.

  You know what your problem is?

  Access to opportunity. I can’t close. The sun in my feathers. No capital. Hucksters.

  . Dào gāo yā chĭ, mó gāo yī zhàng.

  Ninety-nine problems, Army said as if he hadn’t heard. Too many, too many. What I’m saying, Faye, is, Don’t make me fail again.

  * * *

  +

  She told him that when she first moved to Canada she had a standard school-girl haircut, hair to her chin, severe bangs, and she sat in a group with two white girls.

  And still sometimes when I’m looking down in lecture and I see the couples, I wonder.

  In the background, Felicia breathed.

  Faye continued, Do I have to be blonde—

  No, of course not.

  To be considered, Faye trailed off then reset the question: Do I have to be blonde to be a woman?

  * * *

  +

  No change.

  * * *

  +

  When Faye left, Army went to check on Riot but really to have a quick ciggy. He couldn’t find him in the shopping or food districts of the hospital.

  Text: Where u at

  Text: Maternity

  Text: What u doing in mat

  Text: Watching

  Is she gone? Riot asked as Army approached.

  Army thought he meant Faye but then corrected when he saw Riot about to pause the video. No, Mom’s still there.

  She’s not my mom, Riot said.

  Army sat close and they watched the video alongside Army’s commentary. The parts he most enjoyed were the ones where someone was on screen.

  Technically, someone’s always on screen, Riot said.

  I mean someone else, Army said.

  * * *

  +

  It wasn’t until the third day of viewing, at the foot of Felicia’s bed, that they got to the moment of Edgar’s death. what time you flying Riot woke Army for it. On the recording eight and in life nine it was early afternoon.

  Riot is gone to the hospital. Army is sitting on the floor in front of Hendrix’s bed with his head tilted back on the edge of the mattress, looking up at the ceiling, and cupping his elbows.

  What were you thinking? Riot asked.

  Army shook his head. He was thinking, you should sleep Do you think I could be a pallbearer? I’ll sleep on the plane Does his father have six friends or living relatives? He was thinking, Mom, let’s say Dad died.

  His phone vibrates. Army looks at it, frowns, and puts it aside. He throws his head back I thought you say you was a pilot against the mattress.

  Who was that? Riot asked.

  Army shook his head. I said no such thing Notification, he said.

  Like, a like? Riot asked.

  Yeah, Army said. He couldn’t explain but you does work for an airline company that it was, in fact, a text without as you would say getting into the whole incorrect story. Faye had cancelled the marriage ceremony.

  A few moments later, I didn’t just imagine everything in the video, Army thumbtypes you does work in the airport into his phone.

  What were you searching for?

  I wasn’t searching. I was texting.

  Who?

  A partner.

  About?

  Okay, Barbara Walters. Mind your business, I work for my family Army said. Then he relented after more video passed. He said, About money.

  Army had paid for the marriage licence with his credit card. Faye paid to book the service with cash. It was non-refundable. She wanted her money back from Army as well.

  * * *

  +

  Then Error has a revival. He speaks. by the way It seems that he it’s pronounced Mutter might survive. But it is delirium. He does not know where he is, Edgar.

  Army repeats his name, Armistice, Armistice, Armistice, until it becomes a mantra but it does little to quell Edgar’s confusion. So Army says, Felicia, Felicia’s house, and Edgar frowns. Then he asks for Mutter Mutter.
try again And Army says, Mutter in exaggerated syllables, Fe-li-cia.

  * * *

  +

  Predictably, his breathing is irregular. He’d shore up energy for a long inhalation then make it stretch as long as possible until the next one. He has the breathing control cover your mouth of a good swimmer, smoker, or meditator. He keeps his eyes closed most of the time but he seems conscious under there. It is only by his mouth that the viewer can tell whether he is sleeping or not. Slack for sleep. Closed for awake.

  He is generally silent but sometimes he chatters, mutters things in English and German, while Army makes I’m-listening noises in his throat. His face jerks into a smile, breakthrough smiles instead of breakthrough pain, like a baby at a mother’s face. He asks for cigarettes and Army lights one for him. He holds the pack in his grip at his side.

  Point of confusion. Once when he bursts the surface of delirium to try to communicate with Army (because his words were mostly for himself at that point though by being spoken, they seem tossed out to retrieve a response), he spends a long time searching for the right word. It is a German word, Das something and the rest sound like a sneeze, is that how you sneeze das Taschentuch. bless you (In the hospital room, an audio Google search for the word kept telling him to try again.) Das das with the d weak so Army believes he is asking for mas, gesundheit more. gesundheit And he is patting himself on the face it hurts when he says if I keep it in it, hurts near his mouth, so Army thinks he is asking for another cigarette or water but he refuses them both. He says, Han hand, and tries to cough so Army puts his hand on his forehead and that seems to comfort him or be close enough to whatever he was asking for.

  * * *

  +

  Felicia by contrast could not say anything. She lay near the hospital window modelling a good death, taking her certificate from a small unrecognized island with her.

  * * *

  +

  The final time he breaks into delirium, as I was saying he is saying, As I was saying, a long stream of it, As I was saying, as I was, as I was saying as I was saying as I was saying, an attempt at clearing his throat, as I as I as I as I was you wasn’t saying nothing

  * * *

  +

  He died the way a tourist might float inside a donut with a drink in one hand and a straw hat low over his eyes and drift toward the edge of an infinity pool.

  * * *

  +

  Felicia was unconscious but still she seemed absolutely unmoved by the video’s climax. There should have been a single, fat, glycerine tear. She looked like she might wake partway through a long flight when she heard the snack cart approaching, turn to the stranger next to her, and ask, Which Germany?

  * * *

  +

  At Hendrix’s funeral, purely ceremonial, Oliver overheard Felicia telling the story of Hendrix’s death to a perfect stranger as if it were just another in her catalogue of stories.

  And Army, as consolation to Heather, had said, It’s how he’d want to go.

  * * *

  +

  I have something for you, Edgar had said when Army first gave him the Galaxy. Here’s a number. He gave Army a thistle-coloured card with embossed silver letters. Bill Luther. Lawyer.

  He’s a friend?

  Something like that.

  Army got his phone to begin dialling Bill Luther, Lawyer.

  Not now. Edgar put his hand on Army’s to stop him. When I go, call him. He’ll take care of everything. Do not resuscitate, funeral home, Bill has instructions for everything.

  On the video, Army makes a phone call. He is pinching the bridge of his nose and pacing back and forth in front of Edgar’s body.

  After the phone call, Army takes his finger and lifts Edgar’s jaw closed.

  Army was disturbed that Oliver stayed away from Felicia’s room. He probably couldn’t handle another death. Not another. Hers.

  * * *

  +

  Make me a copy, Army said to Riot. I don’t want the whole thing. Just the last couple of hours.

  I can put the whole thing up on my site.

  Don’t do that.

  You can access it from anywhere that way, Riot said. Riot already had posted the video.

  Don’t.

  I don’t see what the—

  Riot, he’s not porn.

  There were voices coming from the summer, voices without words. There was something in her nose. And animals. There was a hill outside, she knew there’d be as soon as she opened her eyes, a hill and a standpipe and water to carry in a yellow bucket. Hair. She needed to touch her hair. A girl with her hair in a messy ponytail. Where were her hands? They were burned off. She turned back to see them in the waving gallery. Hurry. The handle of her suitcase. Greeting cards as decoration. In the back row of the choir. A black novel where the pages smelled like carpet. Her mother eaten by red ants. Her blouse melting in the fire behind the house. Smoke. Her voice on fire. Smoke. Polar bears on floes in his eyes. His forearms bare. A dark garage. Another garage. A dark garage. On top of his car. In a room with a seal, clapping his flippers. Standing in reeds on the Nile. Could you watch him tomorrow night? A typewriter. The bus stop. Red airplane tails. Her seal came home with an ungloved hand holding a Mother’s Day card. A man holding a hose. A girl with her hair in a messy ponytail. A needle in the back. Red bank book. The couch. An Ikea bed. On a bus in the night with no food in his bag, no proper coat. Work in the morning. The prescription counter. Work this morning. A colourful Ferris wheel. Light.

  What you looking at? Her voice was burned off.

  You.

  What was she holding in her hands to make them so heavy? Her movements were four times slower than usual. She was shaking was shaking was shaking was shaking her head. With the slightest tilt of a head, she pointed she pointed she pointed she pointed to Riot.

  Riot looked alarmed. He eyed Army, who unclasped his forearms, and slowly lowered the lid of the laptop.

  Mutter, Riot said, approaching her side.

  Felicia turned her head to the window. Away from the two of them.

  But they raced forward like speedboats.

  You feeling all right? Riot asked.

  You want the TV on? Turn on the TV, little man.

  Army ate your Jell-O.

  It was like a bright light before you blacked out, right? Hark the voice of Jesus calling. You know you should have been in like four accidents before the car stopped.

  I had them turn up the heat so you don’t catch pneumonia but if you’re too hot I can have them lower it.

  Did you hear me and Faye talking all night?

  Can you stop dropping Faye into every conversation?

  He started taking photos of you when you were slobbering, tube up your nose, but I wasn’t having it.

  I didn’t.

  I made him erase every last one.

  Felicia said, Let me see.

  Honest to God, I didn’t, Mutter.

  It exhausted Felicia to listen to them. They had regressed in the hours she had been sleeping. She was certain she would have to be at work in a few hours, not in a hospital gown.

  Call Brownstone.

  They know.

  They’ve known since last week.

  What day is it? Felicia asked. It felt like the next day but she couldn’t remember next to what.

  Tuesday.

  Days had passed apparently. She became focused on practicalities. Who’d you talk to?

  Don’t worry about that. They know.

  And the ombudsman?

  I’m not going to show, Riot said.

  Felicia shook her head.

  I mean, I’ll cancel it.

  No, you’re going, Felicia said.

  Riot began to protest, but Army stopped him.

  No one had to tell Felicia that Edgar had died. She knew by how they avoided it with irrelevant chatter.

  Did you call his family? she asked.

  No answer.

  Take my address book.

  I h
andled it, Mom. I’m meeting with his lawyer. Army pointed his finger comparatively between himself and Riot. Same day as Riot’s thing.

  Felicia studied Army for a while then began to smile. You called Jerry? Her eyes watered from soundless laughter then closed.

  * * *

  +

  Play it, she said when she woke up again. They were treating her like she was a delicate flower.

  No one moved for a while then Army set the laptop on the tray. But when Felicia turned her face to the window again, Riot closed the file.

  Play it, Felicia repeated.

  You looked away so I thought—

  Play it. But she didn’t want it so close. She said, Over there, meaning the empty bed beside her. She wanted it running, even if she didn’t see all of it. She wanted it parallel to her, not over her. Then the voices became high and childlike and summery again and she couldn’t make out the words with her eyes closed.

  She woke up and he was with her and he was with him and they were they.

  * * *

  +

  He was going to make Riot an anaconda video for old times’ sake.

  At first he thought that his phone had some dead pixels. But when Ahme looked into the toilet bowl itself, there was some blood, like flakes of red pepper, in his stool.

  Army was called into the lawyer’s office.

  Riot was called into the ombudsman’s office.

  I understand Edgar Gross was a relative, the lawyer said.

  My father, Army said. Not a sixth cousin by marriage.

  We have received additional complaints, the ombudsman said.

  I can’t control everything, Riot said.

  The lawyer backtracked. First of all, I’m sorry for your loss.

  Army wanted to know if Edgar had in fact left him millions. He apologized for the snark. Grief, he said.