Happy People Live Here

by C. Sean McGee

9A

  Linda sat in the large chair with her hands folded onto her lap. It was a big square chair, the kind with big green arm rests, the kind that you could stick a hundred pins in if you wanted to and were so big that people like her, people as small as she was felt even smaller and weren’t able to do smart things like cupping the ends of the armrest with her hands, like educated people did. And its legs were so high that she couldn’t sit straight against the back rest, or else her feet wouldn’t be able to reach the floor they’d just hang stupidly off the edge like two decorated stumps.

  Sitting in the seat, Linda felt like a really small person. Sitting in the seat and staring straight at Graham, Linda felt as an ugly insect might feel before it’s squashed under a magazine and scraped out of an open window.

  “What are you doing with yourself, Linda?” Graham asked.

  He had a look on his face like she had just broken his favorite mug.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked.

  Linda had been in trouble many times. And Graham was always really stern with her. He always forgave her, though, and he never wore such a rousing expression as this. His face was all wrinkled in little waves and looked like it might pop right off. And his lips were all wavy too. But they were as stern and as still as his silence and they were probably just a s tough as the look he was giving her with his eyes. She wouldn’t want to kiss those lips, not until they were soft, like a cloud, or a water bed.

  “You can’t be here anymore. I can’t see you. I don’t want to see your face. It’s over. I’m sorry. I wish there was a better way to put it forward but….” Graham said, pausing as he strained his eyes and clenched his two hands into wrecking ball like fists.

  He almost looked like he was about to punch her. And he probably could too, if he wanted to. His arms were really big; on account of all the exercises he did every day. And his arms were really long too, on account of his good genes. So if he wanted to, not saying that he would or not, but if he did, he could just stick his arm out like he was reaching for a pen or something, and he could pop Linda in the mouth. And the way he was talking, or the way he wasn’t talking mind you, and the way he was squeezing his eyes – like he was squeezing a lemon – it looked like he might actually do it.

  Linda didn’t think so, though. She sat tiny in the chair waiting for Graham to finish his sentence, holding onto the last word with exhilaration spilling from her focus and attention.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, as of late, about you. That whole baby thing, it got me thinking. You know, you’re neighbor, what happened to their boy.”

  Linda nodded briskly as if to move him along. She knew who he meant. She didn’t want to imagine it, not in the way that other people just loved to talk about it. They were nice people. And the little girl, she was always really nice too. And it was a tragedy and it wasn’t nice to talk about other people’s misfortune, even if you think you’re doing good and helping in some kind of way. It was just prying. And that was rude. And rude people burned in hell.

  “Got me thinking about my boy,” he said, turning a picture of his family towards him instead of how it normally was when she visited her office, facing downwards against the oak table so that the metal stand poked up in the air, like his small erection.

  “I need you to leave Linda. I need you to go away. I don’t really care where you go, but I can’t have you near me anymore. I can’t look at my family, at my boys, and at my wife. I can’t look at them and have to think about you. And I can’t look at you and be reminded of them, of what I’ve done to them. You understand, yes? Tell me you do. Tell me you get it” he said, urging her to respond or to nod or to blink or to do something, anything, anything at all that would get her out of his life for good.

  Linda kicked her feet. They were starting to fall asleep and pretty soon she’d be feeling pins and needles and after that, if she did have to get down, she’d need a hand, because the last time this happened and she tried to get off the seat herself, it was like she didn’t have any feet at all. And when she tried to get down, she collapsed under her own weight and made a terrific banging sound as she hit the floor. It was so loud that The Receptionist and The Dentist came running in thinking something had happened to Graham.

  Linda wished she had sat on the edge.

  “Family is the most important thing, Linda. I understand this now. It took me nearly destroying my own to figure that out. Shit, I might’ve even have kept going, had it not been for that dead boy. Jesus, what a fucking thing. You think they did it? The parents? They say it was the girl, but you know happy families and all that. There’s always something dark lurking. You know them. They’re on your floor right? Who’d have thought? So Whatta you reckon? The mother? The father? Or the jealous sister?”

  The sound of his gossiping was like nails scraping along on a blackboard. Linda clenched herself up, but not out of rage. It wasn’t as if she were dwarfing herself, getting herself charged to explode. No, the sound of his words, and the licking of his lips, just like everyone else did, it made her feel like someone had poured something warm and sticky down the back of her blouse.

  “They’re nice people,” she said, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out the envelope which had been neatly guarded, until that stupid bitch Receptionist tore it open with her painted claws.

  “What’s that?” asked Graham.

  “I got this last night. It was on the floor, near the intercom. It was by itself. But I don’t know what it means. Am I in trouble? Is something the matter?”

  Graham took the envelope and opened it with very little care as if it didn’t matter that it was addressed to Linda and that it was hers. He had the same look on his face as the boys in Linda’s school when the principal lined them against the wall side by side and made them confess to pulling down her dress in front of the whole school

  “This says that you are being evicted Linda. You have until the weekend to organize your things and vacate the apartment.”

  Graham folded the letter and handed it over the table to Linda. He didn’t have to stretch or anything. That’s how long his arms were. He just reached forwards and the letter was in her lap. So if he did want to punch her, or if he wanted to give her a hug, he could, really easily and without having to pull his chair closer to the table, if he wanted to that is.

  “Is it something I did? I am always good. I don’t listen to television after 10. I don’t make noise. I don’t have animals and I separate my trash. Bill Clinton?” she said in despair, her hands folding over her face like origami.

  “This is not about your fish Linda.”

  “It wasn’t Bill Clinton? Because I change his water all the time, like they said in the pet shop. And I feed him properly too. And I put him next to a picture of the ocean, so he doesn’t feel lonely. If it’s not Bill Clinton, then what is it? Is it the neighbors? Did they complain? Is it because I breathe funny? I breathe loud don’t I? I know I do, it’s ok. Is that it? I tried to hold my breath and I try to do that thing you know, thinking I am somewhere else, so I don’t get scared or anxious with them all being there, beside me and behind me and pushing back, in front of me. I can be better. I’ll hold my breath longer, I will. I’m practicing in my swimming classes. I can hold my breath for ten seconds now, underwater too. I bet in no time I can hold it for as long as it takes.”

  “It’s not about that Linda. You’re being evicted because the rent hasn’t been paid.”

  “But that’s impossible. I don’t pay the rent. You do. And there was never a problem before. Is it your bank? Do you want me to talk to someone?”

  “Linda…” he said, pausing. “Listen. The apartment is mine. The note was from my realtor. But I can’t let you live there anymore. Fact is, since the thing with your neighbor and their son, well, property value has been going nuts. It’s going through the roof, especially the ninth floor. They’re quite the celebrities. And well, my wife, she’s been asking about moving back into the apartment for a while now.
The timing is perfect you see? My wife, she loves celebrities and she really wants to live across from that family you know? You can understand that. And like I said, since that little kid fucking carked it you know, it’s brought my own family together. A blessing really. It could have been my son you know. And what would I have to say, that I was here jacking off to your fat cunt instead of being with my son? Instead of being a father? Is that what you want? You want my son to be without his father? No. Linda. It’s over.”

  Linda looked as if her birthday party had been cancelled.

  “But I don’t have enough money. It’s a very expensive apartment. My pay isn’t enough; on top of my swimming classes and my Portuguese classes. What will I do?” she asked. “Do you want to do that again?” she asked, nervously unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Stop” Graham shouted.

  Linda’s hands were shaking. She didn’t budge her hands. She left her fingers clenching at the buttons not knowing if she should wait to see if he changed his mind or what he meant when he said “stop.”

  “This is what I mean,” he said as if it were her idea. “I see you, I think about that dead kid, then I think about my family and I feel like shit. I don’t wanna feel like shit anymore, do you understand? Stop being such a fucking whore” he shouted, banging his wrecking ball fist on the table.

  Linda didn’t flinch.

  She jumped right back in her seat, like a stretched out slinky, spring back into itself. And she pulled her knees right up to her chest and tucked them tight against her body and her hands, they were still, for some stupid reason, gripping the buttons half way down her blouse. And they were shaking so much that the button they were holding was stretching out farther than the others as the thread that sewed them onto the blouse started to come loose.

  “I’m sorry Linda. I’m sorry about everything. But this is my redemption. This is the only way to fix what I’ve done. I can’t go back. I can’t undo anything. I’m sorry I did those things I did. I’m sorry I did them for so long. There is something wrong with me, there is. But I’m changed now. I’m going to church. And I’ve found Jesus now and I’ve asked him to forgive me, for everything I’ve done. And this, what I’m doing, keeping you here, this is no kind of forgiveness. I’m sorry Linda I am. You didn’t deserve to meet me. You didn’t deserve anything you got in your life. Giving you a home, a car, a job…” he said, pausing once more to wipe away a single tear from his right eye.

  “Please, Graham. I’m sorry. It’s ok. I know you’re not mean; not like other people. That thing you did… It’s different now, isn’t it?” she asked, returning once more to unbuttoning her blouse, as a barking dog or an opossum, playing dead, lulling into her only known defense.

  “Don’t talk about that thing. It’s over Linda. I gave you a house and a job and money for years. I helped alright? Don’t you forget that. If it weren’t for me, who knows what would’ve happened? I’m sorry. That thing. That was wrong. But I made up for it, I did good. I did more than anyone else would. I looked after you. I got you back on your feet. And you were a fucking kid when that happened. You can’t keep griping about that forever. You’re a bloody middle aged woman now Linda. It’s been a long time since that happened and it’s not good for you to start dragging through done deals you know? I fucking helped you. I fucking saved you alright? Don’t you fucking forget that.”

  “I’m sorry Graham. I just. I have nowhere to go. I have no friends. And my family, they haven’t spoken to me since…”

  Graham gave her a look, shifting his head as if he were tightening a bolt.

  “I’m sorry,” Linda said. “It’s just, I don’t get to see my niece and yesterday was my birthday and nobody ate any of the cake and…”

  Graham stared at her in a familiar salacious way.

  “Fuck it,” he said. “Once more, for old time’s sake yeah?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Linda.

  “Do your thing?” he said, licking his lips and rubbing his crotch. “Do it?” he said. “Get your fucking clothes off.”

  “I don’t like it,” said Linda. “Can we just be like normal boyfriend and girlfriend? Like on the television.”

  “You’re not my fucking girlfriend Linda. You’re just a pussy and an asshole” he said, his fingers now busily undoing his zipper and yanking at his stubborn belt.

  “I don’t want to have to leave. I like where I live, I do. And I don’t want to do this anymore. But I will, for you, if you let me stay.”

  “We’ll see,” said Graham. “Now strip. I wanna see your pussy. I wanna see your beautiful asshole. Show me that fucking asshole” he said.

  Linda flinched. She hated the way he talked. She wished he would talk to her nicer, like the way Roger did, when they were on their date. He was really polite and he was really kind and gentle, even if his teeth were crooked and his belly was all plump and out of shape. Her teeth were old and dropping and her belly too, it was just and shapely, so what was the problem?

  Graham stared at Linda as she slowly undressed. The cracks on his parched lips started to deluge with saliva as his thick leathery tongue ran from one side to the other, escaping the bite of his gnashing and grinding teeth.

  “Dance for me, slut. Finger yourself,” he said, his pants being pulled to his ankles. “In the ass. In the fucking ass” he said. “And smile. I wanna see those filthy teeth of yours. Yeah” he said, stroking himself. “Lick those yellow teeth.”

  “You’ll fix the problem?” Linda asked.

  “Don’t talk. You’ll ruin it.”

  Linda stood up, as she always did while Graham sat behind his desk, as he always did, his belt unbuckled and his small but erect and blotchy penis already being yanked and shaken about like a stubborn Polaroid. And she took off her blouse, button by button, how he always wanted her to do it so that she didn’t finish before him. And she closed her eyes and imagining herself, like she tried to do when she was in the elevator, waiting in line to meet Mickey Mouse.

  And in her imagination, as she slipped out of her dress and kicked it beside her chair, she was jumping up and down and waving her hands in the air to get Mickey’s attention. But Mickey and Minnie, and all the others too, they were too busy getting their photos taken with lots of kids and they were being made to go here and made to go there and the parents of all the boys and girls, they were being real bullies to Mickey, and to the little boys and girls, so they could take all their stupid photos. Linda just wanted to shake his hand. Maybe, if he didn’t mind, a hug.

  “Turn round,” grunted Graham, lurching over his naked, lower body.

  Linda turned and saw that Mickey wasn’t with the boys and girls and their bully parents. He was by himself near the drink stand, pretty far from where she was, but he was all alone and he was waving at her. It was really slow, from left to right, back and forth, like when big ships left a port and people waved, just for the heck of it.

  This wasn’t for the heck of it, though. Linda knew he could see her and he knew she didn’t want to look the other way. He knew she didn’t want to see Graham getting up from behind his desk, his pants like shackles around his ankles and his white coat, tucked behind his legs, so it didn’t get in his way while he leaned onto the table with one hand while violently jerking his shriveled erect penis with the other.

  “Hiya Linda” shouted Mickey.

  Linda smiled. He was real. Everyone said he was just made up, that he was just some man in a suit and that magic wasn’t real, that dreams didn’t come true. Of course, they came true. That’s the whole point in believing. She waved back at him. At least she tried to. It was pretty hard, though, to move her arms and to stay here, where dreams come true, and not end up back where nobody ever came to your rescue.

  “I love you Mickey” she shouted.

  “Who the fuck is Mickey” grunted Graham, his tongue sticking from his retching mouth like a sunburned dog.

  In her imagination, Mickey was still waving but there were hundreds of other kids aro
und her now and they were all waving back. Linda looked at them all, and she tried to shoo them away.

  “He’s waving at me,” she said. “Wait your stupid turn.”

  But the children wouldn’t wait. Like in the elevator, they circled around her; beside, behind and in front. And pretty soon, it would be hard to tell for Mickey if she was caught somewhere in-between the kids, or whether she had gone home. And the children, they all started pushing and poking her. And then they started singing.

  “Linda’s bridges falling down, falling down, falling down. Linda’s bridges falling down, ugly lady.”

  When he was done, Graham pulled his pants up, wiped his hands on a white coat that was hanging beside his desk and he re-buckled his belt, clearing his throat as he did so.

  “Is it ok?” Linda asked, sobbing as she pulled her clothes from the floor, pressing them against her naked body.

  “It’s over Linda. I told you. I can’t see your face anymore. You make me sick. You see what you made me do right? You see that? Now I have to fucking beg to Jesus for forgiveness. That was you. I was ready to fucking cut you loose and you had to act like a fucking whore and make me this way. You fucking make me this way” he shouted, spitting as he did.

  Linda wept.

  “But you’ll pay the rent?” she asked, naive.

  “No Linda. No more. You’re a big girl. Sort out your own dilemmas. No more rent. And you don’t work here… as of now. And the car, I’ll be taking that back. No more Linda. Like I said, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all the bad things I did. I am.”

  “What will I do?” she asked.

  “See reception. You can pick up a bus voucher. That should get you home. I don’t want to hear from you again. And don’t you fucking tell anyone what we did, or I’ll kill your fucking mother. You understand? Nothing happened between us. This shit here, it didn’t happen. And if it did, it was consensual.”

  “I don’t care about this. But what about Bill Clinton?”

  “Fuck your fish.”

  “Where will I live?”

  “You’re not my problem anymore. I love my family. You’re only going to ruin that.”

  “I promise,” Linda said. “I promise I won’t. Please” she pleaded, bursting into blubbering tears, throwing her clothes onto the floor. “I don’t know what to do by myself. I don’t know how to do things. Please,” she said. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry Linda,” Graham said, tightening his belt. “I hope one day you can forgive me as Jesus has forgiven me. And I hope one day I can find that same forgiveness for myself.”

  “I’m not mad” she pleaded. “I’m not, I promise. You can do…. your thing, you can. Just don’t leave me alone. Don’t make me go away. I need somewhere to live. I need this job. I need you. I don’t know how to do the things you do, the things you do for me. I don’t know anything. You did everything for me” she said, her words washing away from her sulking mouth.

  “Get dressed and get out,” he said.

  “I don’t know…” she said.

  “You don’t know what?”

  “The bus,” she said.

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t know where it comes.”

  Linda shuffled slowly out of Graham’s office and up to reception where The Receptionist gave a look, the kind of look she had never seen before but she felt her pity and a great deal of her disgust as well. The Receptionist gave Linda a bus ticket and held the door for her as she stumbled out into the foyer and waited for the elevator to come.

  It took forever to arrive.

  And even longer to descend.

  Linda hated elevators.