Milosz

by Cordelia Strube

‘What do you mean “safe”? He’s never safe.’ She starts getting loud again. ‘He’s bullied in the schoolyard every single day. What kind of sick world allows a boy to be bullied every single day? What kind of sick, perverted world?’ Both cops edge towards the door.

  ‘So you want no charges laid?’ the bodybuilder asks.

  ‘Charges?’

  ‘Against your neighbour here.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘He kept the boy in the wigwam, ma’am.’

  ‘It was a debris shelter,’ Milo interjects.

  ‘Get out,’ Tanis orders.

  Milo and the cops look at each other because they’re not sure whom she’s talking to.

  ‘All of you. Get out. Now.’ She starts swinging her crutch. The cops hurry out but Milo lingers. The wrestler reaches back for him. ‘You too, asshole.’

  Vera’s frying bangers again, and bread in the banger grease. ‘Off with the muddy shoes,’ she commands.

  ‘I found him,’ Milo says.

  ‘We know,’ Wallace says. ‘We can hear him trying to split his head open.’

  ‘Poor little tyke,’ Vera says.

  ‘Where was he?’ Pablo asks.

  ‘In the ravine. He didn’t want to come home so we built a shelter.’

  Wallace bites a piece of toast. ‘With what?’

  ‘Debris. It’s called a debris shelter. Robertson loved it.’

  Vera pats Milo’s shoulder. ‘Go wash up, then come have some brekkie.’

  He eats the fried pig and bread because he doesn’t know what else to do.

  ‘So you’re a hero, Milo,’ Pablo says. ‘Did Tanis go crazy when she saw him? I saw this movie about this stripper whose son got kidnapped and she was, like, totally freaked out, and when the cops found him she was, like, totally hysterical, hugging him so hard. She was crying and everything and even the CIA agent got emotional. It made me cry.’

  ‘Tanis can’t hug Robertson.’ Milo eats another sausage even though he doesn’t want it. They couldn’t hold Robertson still enough to wash him. He is up there, thrashing, covered in filth.

  ‘You look knackered,’ Vera says. ‘I’d say a good rest is in order.’

  ‘I need painkillers. I cracked a rib.’ He lifts up his T-shirt, revealing the chest wrap.

  ‘Goodness gracious, how did you do that?’

  ‘A deer kicked me.’

  Vera and Pablo exchange dubious looks. Wallace, engrossed in the personals, isn’t even listening. Vera digs in her purse. ‘Take some of my back pills.’

  ‘What’s in them?’

  ‘Haven’t the foggiest.’

  Milo swallows four.

  He wakens to TV noise and Vera slamming things around in the kitchen, but no head-banging. Robertson has probably fallen asleep on the floor. How will Tanis lift him by herself? He presses his ear against the wall.

  ‘Milo?’

  ‘What?’

  Wallace beckons him from his bedroom. ‘Can you come here for a sec?’ This is the new Wallace who asks rather than commands. Milo walks into his room and watches him hurriedly close the door. ‘She’s been out of control since you left,’ Wallace says. ‘It’s like she owns the place.’

  ‘I’ve noticed.’

  ‘It’s your house. You can stop her.’

  ‘No I can’t. You know I can’t.’

  Wallace sits on the bed and starts coughing. ‘I wish she’d croak.’

  ‘Why? She seems pleasant enough. She’s doing your laundry and mending your clothes, feeding you … ’

  ‘Call that food? I’ve put on four pounds already. I’ll pay you a hundred bucks if you make the kitchen off limits.’

  ‘I have no energy to fight her, Wallace. You may have noticed that I am injured.’

  ‘So tell her that’s why. Say you’re injured and you can’t eat fried food, just raw juices and shit.’

  ‘Wallace, what is the problem? Why can’t you just talk to your mother?’

  ‘Oh, like you could talk with your father. When are you picking him up?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You can’t just leave him there.’

  ‘Are you telling me if your mother was being cared for in an institution, at no cost to you, you would go get her?’ This gives Wallace pause. ‘And anyway, we don’t know if it’s him. I haven’t seen this famous footage.’

  ‘It’s him.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’

  ‘Do you have Fennel’s number?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Pablo won’t give it to me.’

  ‘Did you offer him a hundred bucks for it?’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Why does Pablo have it?’

  ‘Are you kidding me? He’s been all over her.’

  ‘What about Maria?’

  ‘Yesterday’s news.’ Wallace starts coughing again.

  ‘So you’re saying he took Fennel out?’

  ‘They went to some art opening then came back and made out on the couch.’

  ‘You watched?’

  ‘I was getting a beer, okay?’

  ‘Where was Vera?’

  ‘Asleep in the chair.’

  ‘You mean they were getting it on while she was asleep in the chair?’

  ‘You got it. Depraved, I’m telling you, that Mexican’s got to go.’

  ‘What’ll you pay me to get rid of him?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  Milo has no idea how to accomplish this but he could use the cash. ‘Three hundred.’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Two-fifty.’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Wal-leee? I’ve made steak and kidney pud. See if Milo wants to join us.’ Milo shakes his head, making throat-cutting gestures. Wallace sucks on his puffer. Within seconds Vera’s on her way up. ‘Oh, there you are. What are you lot up to? You look better, Milo, have a bit more colour.’

  ‘He’s all better, he’s going to have supper with us.’ Wallace slaps Milo’s back, igniting sparks of pain.

  ‘Do you have any more of those back pills?’

  ‘Where’s Pablo?’

  Vera hacks away at the pud with a serving spoon. ‘He’s at Tanis’s.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She wants bolts on the doors. Up high where the boy can’t reach them.’

  ‘That’s insane.’

  ‘What’s insane about it?’ Wallace says. ‘It’ll keep him safe.’

  ‘That’s not safe. That’s prison.’

  ‘Better than getting molested in the ravine.’

  ‘Is that the bell?’ Vera wipes her hands on her apron and heads for the door.

  ‘It’s probably some assfuck selling something,’ Wallace mutters.

  ‘Fennel!’ Vera exclaims. ‘How lovely, we were just sitting down to supper.’

  ‘I’ve eaten, thanks. Is Pablo here?’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Wallace grumbles.

  ‘He’s over at the neighbour’s doing a bit of handiwork. He’ll be back in a tic. Why don’t you join us for a sherry?’ She pulls Fennel into the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, Milo,’ Fennel says, ignoring Wallace.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t have a bite?’ Vera pours her a sherry.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m supposed to paint Pablo.’

  ‘Unfucking believable,’ Wallace mutters.

  ‘Pardon me with knobs on,’ Vera says.

  Fennel takes several gulps of sherry. ‘The light is totally Vermeer right now. I love early summer evenings.’

  ‘Who doesn’t?’ Wallace mumbles.

  ‘Now what’s going on between you two?’ Vera demands. ‘Some kind of lovers’ spat?’

  Fennel eyeballs Milo. ‘How long do we have to keep this up?’

  ‘What up?’ Vera asks.

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mother,’ Wallace interjects. ‘Can I have some more pud?’

  It is a testament to Wallace’s desperation that he requests seconds. Imme­diately Vera springs from her chair to spoon more horror. ‘I had a frigh
tful time finding kidneys. I haven’t found a proper butcher.’

  ‘We don’t have proper butchers here,’ Fennel says. ‘Just superstores full of drugged meat.’

  ‘It’s a shame. There’s nothing like a good butcher. We have one gives us bones for stock. Ettie makes the most marvellous soups. And, of course, we let the doggies chew on the bones. Do you remember that song, Wally, about the fox catching the chickens and the little ones chewing on the bones?’ She sings, ‘And the little ones chewed on the bones-oh-bones-oh-bones-oh and the little ones chewed on the bones. He loved that one, couldn’t stop singing it. Do you remember it, Wally?’

  There is no place to hide but the basement. To block out the pande­monium above, Milo plays Gus’s Polish folk music. Pablo clambers downstairs with Gus’s hammer and screwdriver. ‘Qué pasa?’

  ‘I can’t believe you put locks on his doors.’

  ‘Only the ones that go outside.’

  ‘He’ll have to ask permission to go out his back door into his yard, does that seem right to you?’

  ‘It’s not about right, Milo. It’s about safe.’

  ‘How is it safe to lock him inside? He’ll go nuts.’

  ‘He’s already a little nuts.’

  ‘He is not. You’re nuts. You’re all nuts.’

  Pablo drops the hammer and screwdriver on Gus’s workbench.

  ‘Put them back where you found them,’ Milo says.

  Pablo looks around. ‘I can’t remember where I found them.’

  ‘Always put things back where you found them.’ Gus used to say this. Milo grabs the hammer and screwdriver and hangs them carefully on Gus’s tool rack.

  ‘He’s like a feather,’ Pablo says. ‘Skin and bone.’

  ‘You lifted him?’

  ‘She asked me to.’

  ‘You put him to bed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  This is too much. The Cuban has to go.

  ‘Milo, you’re not mad about me dating Fenny, are you?’

  ‘Why would I be mad?’

  ‘You met her first. Wallace is mad about it. He don’t even let me do junk removal. He’s using Jorge.’

  ‘Well, now that you’re Tanis’s handyman, you have another source of income.’

  ‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two.’

  ‘To what would you be referring? Unlike yourself, I don’t throw myself at every woman who happens to be in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Me and Tanis are just friends. I know you love her, Milo. She’s just not receptive right now, you have to let her process her life changes. Sarah Moon Dancer says we have to watch and listen, not always do. You’re kind of Action Man right now, Milo. Maybe you should just chill for a while.’

  ‘Maybe you should just mind your own fucking business.’

  ‘Who’s for a bit of lime sorbet?’ Vera calls.

  The hamster spins on its wheel. ‘Christ,’ Milo mutters, ‘I forgot about Puffy.’ Looking after Puffy is way beyond his current capabilities. Already the cage stinks and needs cleaning. ‘Can you take the hamster to Robertson?’

  ‘Qué?’

  Booting Pablo out and scoring the two fifty loses importance in the face of this latest crisis. Milo needs a go-between. He lifts the cage. ‘Please, can you take it over there? She’ll take it from you. It’ll help Robertson, I’m sure of it.’

  Fennel flounces downstairs and drapes herself over the blockhead. ‘Oh, that is so cute. I totally love hamsters.’

  ‘Please, Pablo?’ Milo asks, wishing he had cash to offer as a bonus.

  ‘Please what?’ Fennel inquires.

  ‘I’ve got to take the mouse over to Tanis’s,’ Pablo says, and in that instant Milo trusts him more than anybody. How frightening.

  Not a word from the Reality Check people nor Geon Van Der Wyst. Nothing to do but scrape the chipped paint off the Muskoka chairs. Pablo poses against a tree – topless, of course, with his jeans rolled up and his fly slightly unzipped – while Fennel, glugging sherry, smears paint on a canvas.

  ‘Shouldn’t he be naked?’ Milo asks. They don’t bother to respond, so rapt are they in each other’s drunken gaze. Disgusting. Her masterpiece doesn’t even remotely resemble Pablo. Wallace has seized the opportunity to mow the lawn, which he never does. Not only that, he gets out the Whipper-snipper and buzzes the edges. ‘Mind the lilac bush,’ Milo shouts over the racket. He keeps checking Tanis’s windows to see if the noise will prompt either her or Robertson to look out.

  Action Man. For the first time in his life he has taken charge, and look where it’s got him. At least she accepted the hamster. Maybe, while watching Puffy languishing in a cage, she will twig to the fact that she has caged her son. Tomorrow Milo will linger in the yard before they head to school and pretend to be weeding, then casually say, ‘Hey.’ Tomorrow he will watch and listen.

  ammy Sanjari has replied, suggesting they get together for lunch and a chat, when would be a good time? Suspicion heats Milo’s face. Why doesn’t Sammy just come out and tell him where the Gus look-alike is? Is he expecting a bonus? Lunch costs money. Milo emails that lunch won’t be necessary; all he requires is the address of the retirement home. We’d love to meet you, Sammy replies. Please, lunch is on us. By ‘us’ does he mean Sammy and Birgit Kaiser? The photo of Birgit on the Reality Check website suggests that she is mostly teeth, hair and breasts. Why is there no photo of Sammy?

  And who says this is the right thing to do anyway? What’s Milo supposed to do with his father – if it is his father – once he’s put him in a cab and brought him home? Isn’t life chaotic enough with the barbarians and Fenny and God knows what else? Then, in his inbox, appears a message from Geon Van Der Wyst. We are so glad to hear you made it back, Milo, we were somewhat concerned but Gary assured us that all went well. ‘Somewhat concerned?’ ‘All went well?’ As you may imagine, Hunter did not intend to leave you behind but, as you separated from the group and night was falling, it became necessary, for the sake of the others, to return to the city. We greatly appreciate your efforts on our project and it is with regret that we must inform you that we have decided to go another way with it. ‘Another way’? What way? What’s ‘it’? Does anybody have a fucking clue what ‘it’ is? We wish you every success in your future endeavours. Best, Geon Van Der Wyst. WHERE’S MY FUCKING WATCH? Milo replies. Gus gave it to him for his twenty-first birthday. It even has for Milo from Dad inscribed on the back of it.

  He searches the Reality Check website and looks at Birgit’s breasts again. Nobody else wants to buy him lunch. He wouldn’t actually have to do anything, would he? He could just watch and listen and eat something besides animal parts.

  •••

  Once Vera has gone to bed he creeps downstairs hoping for some distraction from the idiot box, but Wallace is slinging back vodka coolers and studying the personals again.

  ‘Good-looking male with Portuguese background,’ he reads, ‘extremely active, looking for Asian-slash-Filipino woman for long-term relationship. Like, what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘He prefers Asians.’ Milo searches for the remote.

  ‘But, like, I mean how can you know you only want a long-term relationship with an Asian-slash-Filipino woman?’

  ‘Maybe they’re more submissive than North Americans.’

  ‘I’d say that’s one sick fuck.’

  Out his bedroom window, less than an hour ago, Milo watched Pablo making out with Fennel. It began against the tree then concluded beneath the lilac bush.

  ‘Tall, slim, very friendly, clean, handsome gent, 60, seeks adventure with younger woman. How much younger do you figure?’

  ‘Sixteen.’

  ‘Sick fucker.’

  ‘At least he’s very friendly and clean. Where’s the remote?’

  ‘Fuck, Milo, look at this. Lost Relative: Anyone knowing the woman B. W. Neblett, nee Burgess, about 84, please call Victoria Nikolas, nee Neblett. She married a fucking Greek and now she’s looking for her mother
. She’s even advertising for her and here you are acting like your dad’s dead.’

  ‘Where’s the remote?’

  ‘Do you know what those places are like? They stink like sewers and the staff abuse the old folks. Or drug them stupid so all they do is watch TV and shit their nappies. No way would I leave my mother in one.’

  ‘Strong words from a man who just told me he wishes his mother would croak. Where’s the remote?’ The ugly, irrevocable truth is that Milo masturbated while watching Pablo getting it on with Fennel. ‘Why do you read the ads, Wallace? Have you ever actually tried calling one of those numbers?’

  ‘Fuck no.’

  Milo gives up searching for the remote, treads into the kitchen to look in the fridge, sees a bowl of milk with animal organs in it and immediately closes the fridge door.

  ‘I can’t figure out why Fennel doesn’t like me,’ Wallace whines. ‘What did I do? I was nice to her, wasn’t I nice?’

  Milo tears open a bag of chips, or crisps as Vera calls them.

  ‘It’s that fucking Mexican,’ Wallace concludes.

  And there he is, at the back door, the cat who ate the cream. ‘Man, am I starved,’ he says.

  ‘Has he contributed to groceries?’ Wallace demands, still on the couch. ‘I haven’t seen him once contribute to groceries.’

  Pablo reaches into Milo’s bag of chips. ‘Zosia says hi.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Zosia, your ex, she says hi.’

  ‘She’s not wounded?’

  ‘You mean, like, wounded in love? Are you worried you broke her heart, Milo? That’s a good one.’ He chortles and shoves chips into his mouth. ‘She’s fatter though.’

  ‘Did she ask about me?’ Milo has been in denial, not wanting to imagine the possibilities. Now that she is unharmed, all he wants is to rest his head on her shoulder.

  ‘I said you were between jobs.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘“Very good.” She’s moved on, Milo. She’s a very forward-thinking person, you need her kind of energy in your life. Too bad you blew it.’

  ‘What the fuck do you know about it?’ Wallace grumbles.

  ‘There you go with that anger wall again, Wally.’

  ‘Don’t call me Wally.’

  ‘I’m telling you, that bitterness will consume you, man. You’ll end up this burnt-up carcass. I seen it happen.’