Theo

by Ed Taylor

  Theo runs back to the front door, up and in, the mouth of doors eating, swallowing him up – he’s in the throat of hall, smelling the sweet smell of smoking, the Jamaica smell, and he wants a job to do, someone to tell him something that needs attention – maybe Gus. Where’s Roger. Where’s his dad. What happened to the dogs.

  The house now a place he doesn’t know, like when the snow blew in. He breathes deeply and follows the smell, a wolf. There are people in every room he slinks past, and noise, and music, and something breaking, always the sound of breaking glass. Every day something shatters.

  Closed doors on the first floor. Theo grabs the long sideways handle and turns it down, like the handle on the toilet – the door swings and the room’s empty – the room where Colin keeps things. More things than usual now, instruments and amps; speakers. Mike stands. Equipment loaded in.

  The wolf moves to the kitchen and there’s Leslie, saying to someone, I have staff coming in later.

  The kitchen smells good, but Theo can’t say why; it’s a fat, complicated smell. Theo only smells it in restaurants. The wolf is hungry again – the food sits in shiny steel squares and Theo’s spooning more, and asking: Have you seen my grandfather.

  What’s that, honey.

  Theo wonders about the dogs again, thinks about Gus. They were going to build a dog house. Where’s Gus. Where is everyone.

  Do you know my grandfather. Do you know where he is.

  Sorry, honey, I don’t know which one he is.

  What time is it.

  It’s 4:30.

  Shadows in the other big door, double wide for servants with carts, Colin says: Roger, without a shirt, and the Italian man and lady, they all look sleepy, or underwater, moving slower than everyone around them although they’re talking and laughing, and Roger’s gliding toward the food – I really want white ice cream, Roger says. That’s all I want.

  Vanilla, Leslie is asking, her eyebrows up, smiling – I do have full cream French vanilla with fresh vanilla bean.

  White ice cream. I want a dish of white ice cream. Roger’s gazing around the kitchen and his eyes land on Theo. Hello, Thee – your dad says to tell you he’s fine. We’re going to work later.

  Roger eyes Theo without blinking – hey listen, you want a job, we’re going to need your help.

  Yeah, sure – what do you want me to do.

  I want you to guard the door. Your dad and I need to be left alone, and you and Mark can make sure that we get the time we need.

  Okay, sure.

  The Italians stare at Theo. They look gray in the kitchen light, and the lady is yawning, saying, darling, you’re such a beautiful wild thing.

  You mean me. Theo’s not sure.

  Yes, caro. You remind me of my son.

  Where is he.

  Sailing with his father.

  Do you live together.

  Sometimes.

  How old is your son.

  Ten. His name is Emerson.

  That’s not Italian.

  Yes, his father’s from Singapore.

  The man wasn’t saying anything, but he smiled at someone, a slow smile that spread over his face, as Theo watched, like a sheet wrinkling up. The man swam across the kitchen toward the ballroom, while the lady scratched the back of her hand slowly, her fingers white and her nails silver.

  You look like a vampire.

  The lady laughed. Do I darling. What does a vampire look like.

  Like you.

  Well, the idea of drinking blood is distasteful to me. I’d rather have … ice cream.

  Roger spoons up ice cream from a black bowl, his eyes on Leslie, facing away from him. He sets the bowl down and walks to Leslie and puts a hand on her back: she turns quickly, and he’s whispering, and she’s shaking her head and moving toward the big utensils, the big spoons and knives, picking something up.

  Roger’s laughing and gliding out into the ballroom, and his name’s now in the air. There’s a radio on, WBAI, the one Theo knows his dad likes.

  That wasn’t nice to call the lady a vampire: Theo says, sorry, I didn’t mean to call you a vampire. Do you want to go outside.

  The lady looks at him, the way everyone looks at him sooner or later, as if they’re just noticing him although they may have known him for years.

  Thank you, my love, let me say hello to a few people.

  Okay. Theo knows what that means and moves away through the kitchen.

  Where are the dogs. Theo’s not seen them for a long time. Did they get out, run away. Is somebody doing something to them. Where are they. The bald man, the man from the record label, is big, and with another man carrying a leather case, and they weave through the ballroom talking to each other and occasionally waving at someone. Something weird – Theo feels pressure in his ears and a sound getting louder, rhythm, chopping, thundering, from outside. Theo runs and sees the people outside ducking and running under a waterfall of air pushing at everyone including Theo, hair out of his eyes for the first time since the beach when the wind moved it – a helicopter.

  Theo’s never been this close before, and the bald man is turning to look at him and hold a hand up, a stop hand. Yeah but Theo’s not a kid, he can see, and he’s too short to get chopped up and the wind feels good, strong enough that he can lean against it, and it’s really loud and it’s an insect, with long skinny parts and the wings a blur and the big glass bulb of the head and a pilot inside who looks like a bug too, with shades on, and cup earphones, and the bald record man is ducking way down and running around to the other side to climb up next to the pilot, and Theo watches while he slips earphones over his bald head, and points at his watch looking at the other man with the briefcase who holds up two fingers, and the pilot’s chewing gum and he looks around for a few seconds at the people and the house and at Theo, and he gives Theo a thumbs-up signal and nods once, and Theo gives him the thumbs-up signal and the pilot grins and the bald man leans past the pilot to see Theo and wave and the pilot’s looking around again and leaning forward to touch something and the noise, Theo puts his hands over his ears and understands the earphones, and the man with the briefcase is out from under the propeller, which you can’t see, it’s just a flat disc in the air, a saw, and what would happen, and he turns around, and his dad is at one of the top windows, leaning on the ledge, and there’s a longhaired head at his shoulder, and he’s noticing Theo and waving, waving him back away from the helicopter, and Theo waves up and runs back and turns around and the helicopter’s hovering high as the trees, just hanging, and the one lady in a dress is holding it down, it’s not a dress, it’s like pants – a skirt, and some are laughing and letting their clothes blow and there’s underwear and one with none. The ones in bathing suits just cover their ears. Theo thinks the pilot’s looking at the ladies. Then the thing flies straight up into the white sky hazy now and hot and tilts and flies off away from the beach over the house front. Maybe it’s closer to the city that way.

  Theo remembers the nightboat at someone’s beach house maybe in France, his dad grabbing him from sleep – Adrian above his bed, face gleaming and teeth flashing, up and at ’em mate we’re gonna take a ride. Theo sleepy and his head full of glitter: Adrian carried Theo down two flights of stairs before putting him down saying, sorry mate, you’re getting too big.

  They walked outside, two minders behind them, and Theo was waking up, hearing surf and they’re in a car out front.

  Where are we going, Theo’s looking, no cars on the road, the houses black hulks, trees, too; just the wide sky dotted and at one side the low glow that was a city, an upside down glass bowl over the world. One of the minders is driving, Chuck, maybe – Theo’s trying to remember.

  We’re going on a boat ride, matey.

  Why.

  Because I have to get a package to Olympia and this is the fastest way.

  What boat.

  A fast one. It’s called a fast boat.

  Theo hears wind chimes and realizes his father has a glass with ice in
it.

  What are you drinking.

  I’m just thirsty.

  Me too. Can I have some.

  It’s an adult drink.

  The other silhouette up front is reaching over the seat and handing Theo a bottle of water.

  Mind your manners, even if you’re sleepy, Adrian says.

  Thanks.

  Mark. It was Mark – you’re welcome, in his big deep voice. Adrian tried to get him to sing on tape once, but he wouldn’t.

  So where’s the boat: Theo’s looking out.

  At the marina.

  Why can’t you mail it, the thing.

  Take too long.

  What is it.

  A tape, mate, songs. For Roger. It’s work.

  Okay.

  Theo looked out at the night as they slowed and turned on gravel and drove toward white water in the moonlight, and a forest of boats. Starlight was bright white, and lots of the masts were crosses. Light on the harbor rippled and glittered.

  Good night for navigation, it’s bright as noon out here, Adrian said, a silver case at his feet. Theo yawned and shivered; his eyes watered and everything melted. I want to go to bed.

  I know, but this will be fun, my friend. And with a crew straight and true. Stalwarts all, every man jack. The car creeping now, stopping.

  Mark and the other minder now turn around and look at Adrian: Adrian, I should drive, Mark says.

  No fuckin way, mate. This is my boat. Only I know these treacherous waters and the hazards that there be.

  This really is not a good idea, Adrian. At least let one of us drive the boat, the other minder said.

  Theo watched them, the dark one driving and the light one, the dark one with no hair, his head bald and smooth. Theo wanted to rub it.

  Enough of this mutinous talk. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Adrian yanked at the car door handle and grabbed at the silver case. Lots of camera people carried cases like that when they came to take pictures.

  Is the tape in there, Theo asked his dad’s back.

  Adrian turned: The case is watertight and floats. The rest of us might go down like stones but this will survive. That’ll be my legacy, the death album. The black album.

  Adrian laughed, standing outside the car and slamming the door shut. Come on, baby. Adrian crunched over the gravel, the minders turning to Theo with blank faces, and then – maybe one of us should stay here with him, and the other one ride with Adrian.

  No. I’m going with my dad.

  Theo wanted out of the car, and fumbled at the door, then was out, the door left open, and running after Adrian. Damn it, Theo heard.

  Theo wore his new sneakers, stiff on his feet and no socks, he realized. Dad, wait.

  Adrian ahead turned, waving his arm, come on, mate.

  They wanted me to stay in the car and one of them was going to ride with you.

  They’re just doing what I pay them for, honey, and they’re good at their jobs. It’s probably easier guarding Thatcher than one of us.

  One of who.

  The band.

  Who’s Thatcher.

  PM.

  What.

  Prime mincer. Primum mobili, head of government in a parliamentary democracy.

  What.

  Never mind – look at her up there. Adrian reached down for Theo’s hand as they walked and they walked that way to the dock, the long big boat at the end making the top of the T.

  Wow. Theo said, the dark hulk of the boat a whale, the same shape: Is that your boat.

  I just rented it. We might buy it. Quite a toy.

  Dad, why do you drink so much alcohol. Theo said it without thinking, it just came out, his father’s long-fingered hand wrapped around his.

  It calms me down, mate. I have to do it for my work. Otherwise I’d be crazy and I wouldn’t be a good dad or good at my work.

  The minders behind them, talking quietly, Theo realized, but he couldn’t hear words, just the low rumble of their voices, one kind of laughing for an instant. What was funny, Theo wondered.

  Isn’t she yar – Adrian is clambering down into the cockpit of the boat – cockpit was a word Theo liked, the word always felt fast. Cockpit. Cockpit. Planes had them. But an old word, too.

  Stinkpots can’t be yar – one of the minders, teeth in the moonlight gleaming, stood beside Theo, the other bending to climb down, Adrian fumbling at the steering wheel.

  I’ll get us out of the marina and then you can drive – I want to relax. You got the chart, right – you know where we’re going.

  Yeah. I talked to harbor people. The Marseille side will be a little tricky, we may have to be met.

  Just time it carefully, it’ll be fine. Hell, if we get close enough I can swim it in, or ride the case like a raft. Then we can go somewhere to celebrate, somewhere on the docks with some teeth.

  Aye, skip.

  The minders and Theo now hunched in the boat, the big engines – two – so loud it was hard to hear, and the whole boat trembling, the sound echoing from buildings along the water street, where the confiserie was. Theo remembered sitting in the shop looking at the forest of masts, and knots of seagulls. He had been on boats, but not a fast boat.

  Shadow: Mark over Theo holding something, a life jacket. Gotta put this on, or we can’t go anywhere, Theo.

  Theo looked up and took it, and slipped his arms in, while Mark bent low to cinch it up tight, stiff around his neck.

  Adrian stood at the wheel with a hand on the throttle, the boat backing and rocking. The other minder stood beside him, looking backward.

  Adrian spun the wheel and pushed the throttle forward and everyone staggered: it was like takeoff on a plane, the hand pushing your chest. Water wings spread on either side of the boat’s nose, and behind was a wide white path. They made waves and as they moved into the open water sailboats bobbed behind them, a couple with lights on in cabin windows now.

  Adrian laughed with his head back, bloody beautiful, what a sleek animal –

  Hey, take it easy. Once we hit the channel I’m taking over.

  Yeah yeah. Adrian stared forward, wind in everything, a little cool now, and Adrian’s skinny chest like the bird skeletons Theo collected, Adrian grinning, the regular jarring thump of the hull on waves – hard as steel, Theo remembered from science class, water is very hard. Then how can we drink it; Theo yawned.

  The minder now with a hand on the wheel, Adrian griping in words Theo couldn’t hear but he knew the tone. He’d heard it through garden walls, through partitions in limos, through sailboat cabin walls, drifting up stairs and down. His dad, unhappy.

  But now Adrian was grinning again, and climbing onto the side of the boat and then: gone.

  The minder spun the wheel, and the other minder scrambled aft, and Theo yelled dad without thinking, and Mark clicked on a bright light and was sweeping the black and white water and the boat rocked as waves rolled under, drifting but settled, the engines reversed or slowed down, low, the minder a good driver, but – and laughing out in the water.

  Mark held the light steady and back out in the water Theo saw, barely, dark hair and white face, and splashing.

  Hold on, dad. Theo’s voice squeaked.

  The boat surged forward thrumming, Mark in the bow kneeling with a life jacket on each arm and a yellow coil of rope and then jumping off.

  Bloody hell. Just wanted to wake up. Come on in, Theo, it’s beautiful, baby.

  No, Theo, hold on. Okay. Let me get the boat squared up to them – the other minder bubbled the boat over, and both men in the water laughed now. Theo, can you hold this for me – the spotlight like a microphone, with a handle, which the other minder handed to Theo before he crawled forward to the boat’s bow.

  Theo waved it wildly around, then found the black water and tried to see Adrian.

  Come on in, baby, it’s like bath water.

  Yeah, the sharks like it, too, Mark called out, churning in a line.

  There’s not enough meat on me – just Adrian’s voic
e in the dark, the only light the necklace from the marina and the shore behind, just pearls or stars, low and warm.

  There – out there, Adrian had both life jackets, and Mark bobbed beside him, the rope floating in a line back to a cleat.

  Come on, Adrian, let’s pick a better spot for a swim.

  No better place than here, and now is always the time. No time to waste, Bobby. Come in for a dip, Theo, and then we’ll get back on the road.

  Mark and Bobby were exchanging signals with their hands – Theo’d seen it before. They never told what they meant, none of the minders would tell, but Theo knew they were talking so his dad wouldn’t know what they were saying. Theo’d heard Frieda and Adrian yelling about it. The minders did it with both of them. They’re sheep dogs, Adrian said about minders, and even sheep don’t like being herded, Adrian said. They do not want me to become angry, Frieda said.

  They don’t do it with me, Theo asked both of them.

  They don’t have to, Adrian and Frieda said.

  Why, Theo asked.

  Because you listen.

  Theo couldn’t remember when there weren’t minders. Usually someone also hung around making food: Theo couldn’t remember seeing his mother cook anything; Adrian did sometimes. Adrian liked fry-ups. So did Gus. In the middle of everything, early in the morning or sometimes very late, and Gus stood at the stove, watching a pan.

  Fancy eating doesn’t agree with me sometimes, Gus said. Sometimes after a restaurant party with a table long as the room and Theo sleeping on a banquette while it goes on, they would return home and Gus would light up the kitchen and make toast with a fork and a frying pan. I just need some plain honest food, he said.

  And Adrian did the same thing. Theo wondered: what would he do like his father.

  It was chilly in the boat, and Theo was iffy about swimming: What about sharks.

  That’s why we have Mark and Bobby. Shark distracters. No worries, my friend, come on in.

  Black all around. Bobby had flicked on blinking running lights and set a lantern on the hull so warm light spilled a few feet onto the water, black and hard as a floor. Can’t see anything, no telling what’s in there, Theo thought. But he was going to swim.