Flesh and Blood

by Michael Cunningham

  “Yeah.”

  They were surrounded by bees and a scoured blue sky, the bright unsteady water of the bay. It seemed that nothing would happen because this existed, bees browsing among beach roses in the August light.

  “How would you feel about a swim?” Will asked.

  “I’d go for a swim,” Harry said. “How about you, Zoe?”

  “Hm?”

  “Do you feel like swimming?”

  “Oh. I don’t know. How about if I just sat on the beach and watched the two of you?”

  “Whatever you like,” Will said.

  Zoe took a strand of her hair in her hand. She couldn’t tell whether she was leaving time or entering it more deeply. She held her hair as if for balance.

  “What I’d like is to sit on a beach,” she said, “and watch you boys swim.”

  “We’re not boys,” Harry said. “Only in our dreams.”

  “I think of you that way,” she told him. “That’s what I call you, to myself. The boys.”

  “I don’t mind us being thought of as boys,” Will said.

  “You wouldn’t,” Harry said.

  “Give me a break.”

  “Right. The oldest living boy.”

  They fell into a false slugging match. Will feinted and parried exaggeratedly, like a boxing kangaroo. Harry slapped his fists away.

  “Don’t mess with me,” Harry said to Will’s fists. “I’m in no mood.”

  “I haven’t even started messing with you,” Will said.

  A bee buzzed onto the porch, hovered over the floorboards.

  Zoe watched it in its lush, suspended heaviness of body, the transparent shadow it cast. She watched her brother and his lover move together. Was their affection for each other related to the flight of the bee? No, that was just her habit of seeking connections.

  Will said something to her, and she only smiled. These days, she didn’t always worry about the words.

  “Earth to Zoe,” Harry said.

  “I’m here,” she told them. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

  Ben and Jamal came up the porch stairs, paused together at the top. The bee made its decision. It angled off the porch and flew east, over Ben’s and Jamal’s heads. Zoe saw—had she known?—that Ben and Jamal were a couple, too. They were a kind of couple. Will and Harry were another couple. The bee had desires of its own. She held on to her hair.

  “Hey, guys,” Will said. “What’s up?”

  “We saw a fish,” Jamal said.

  “Really?”

  Ben stood silently in his wounded virtue, all the love he wanted and didn’t want.

  “A pretty big one,” Jamal said. “Under the pier.”

  “You guys feel like going swimming?” Will said.

  “Okay,” Jamal answered.

  Ben didn’t speak. He went into the house, banged the screen door behind him. He sent out onto the porch a stale breeze full of the smells of the house. Will looked at Harry. Funny kid, huh?

  Jamal came and stood near Zoe. He waited for her to speak or not speak, waited for the next minute of her life.

  “So let’s hit the beach,” Harry said.

  “Mom?” Jamal said.

  “You three go,” Zoe said. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m happy right here.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When Jamal didn’t move she gently swatted his behind. “Go on,” she said.

  “Do you want me to go swimming?”

  “Yes. I want you to go swimming.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  She sat in her chair as Will and Harry and Jamal went inside the house to change into their bathing suits. There were tiny shifts in the air, intervals of greater and lesser incandescence. Something was gathering, something golden and blue and old. When Jamal and Will and Harry came back out Ben was with them, sleekly muscled in his baggy orange trunks. Will kissed her, and the others said goodbye, even though they’d return in less than an hour. These days, people always said goodbye. She watched them walk toward the bay. As her son and her nephew and her brother and his lover walked away together, Zoe saw that an equipoise had arrived. Here it was, right now: the heart of summer. For months, forces of ripeness and decay had been rising together toward this, an enormous stillness, a slumbering depth of gold and blue that contained no changes or contradictions.

  Then she saw it pass. She saw the first descending light arrive, the first infinitesimal click of autumn. She realized she had been holding her hair all this time. When her son and her brother and his lover had passed out of sight, she let go of her hair.

  “Are you warm enough?” a voice said. For a moment she thought it was the voice of the air itself, deep, with a hint of oboe and kettledrum. Bees could float in a voice like that, little electric sparks flying through the music.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Her father came and stood beside her. It was his voice. It was his sweet, rank smell.

  “You okay?” he asked. “Just sitting by yourself?”

  “Everybody was here,” she said. “They all went swimming.”

  “Who?”

  “Will and Harry and Jamal and Ben.”

  He walked to the railing. He frowned out into the day that had begun its long cooling, its descent. Tomorrow would be the first day of autumn, though the calendar wouldn’t acknowledge it for another three weeks. Tomorrow the light would be fatter, more prone to blue.

  “Ben and Jamal have a sailing lesson at two,” her father said.

  He had love and hatred turning inside him, a system of tides. His hair was going transparent. His skin was freckling with age.

  “It’s all right,” Zoe told him.

  “Huh?”

  “They’ll be back in time.”

  “Right.”

  He left the railing, reluctantly. He bent over Zoe, put his face next to hers.

  “You’re okay here?” he said. “Warm enough?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  He nodded. He sucked on his teeth, pulled in a quarter note of air, and Zoe thought he might have tasted the day, the fading promise of it,

  “I’m fine,” she said again. “It’s good to just sit here.”

  “My darling,” he whispered. “My little girl.”

  That night, because there weren’t enough bedrooms, Will and Harry pitched a tent in the patch of scrubby grass that lay behind the house. They’d bought a tent epecially for the trip, red nylon, bright as candy. Zoe watched them laugh and argue about setting it up. She watched Will’s arms and back as he sunk pegs in the sandy earth. The night was alive with fireflies and mosquitoes, with rustlings of leaves and the restless, invisible presence of the bay. She heard Susan and smelled her and then Susan touched her shoulder.

  “How are they doing out there?” Susan asked.

  “Hm?”

  “How. Are. They. Doing?” Slowly and loudly, as if she was speaking to a foreigner.

  “Abbott and Costello go camping,” Zoe said.

  Susan massaged Zoe’s shoulder. Her fingers were stronger than anybody knew. “You feeling okay?” she asked.

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Hey.” Susan called past Zoe, into the night. “If you guys can’t manage it, Zoe and I will pitch the tent for you.”

  Susan’s voice was the engine of the family. Her unhappiness only deepened her well-oiled shine.

  “We’re doing fine, thank you,” Will answered. His skin was burnished in the darkness. A quarter moon had risen.

  “Let’s go help them out,” Susan said to Zoe.

  “Okay,” Zoe said.

  “Let’s. Go. Help. Them. Out.”

  “I heard you, Susie. I’m here.”

  Zoe and Susan stepped out of the rectangle of kitchen light, off the small wooden stoop and into the grass. Zoe felt as if she was wading into warm water. She could feel the hidden eyes of animals, watching from the bushes. Susan held Zoe’s elbow, the way she’d guide an old woman.
/>   Harry said, “Thank God, the National Guard is here.”

  “We’ve got it,” Will said. “Look. All done.”

  He stood up. There was the tent, saggy but upright. In its red triangular simplicity it might have been a child’s drawing of a tent.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right out here?” Susan asked.

  “Sure we’re sure,” Will said. “We love the outdoors.”

  “We think we love the outdoors,” Harry said. “Neither one of us has ever slept outside before.”

  “That’s not true,” Will said. “I went camping once, with my best friend’s family, when I was twelve.”

  Zoe said, “I want to see what it’s like in there.”

  “Be my guest,” Will said,

  She parted the nylon flaps and crawled in. The inside of the tent was a slick red-black world, surprisingly separate from the larger world, full of a warm plastic smell.

  “It’s nice in here,” Zoe said. “Cozy.”

  Will crawled in and crouched beside her. “Not bad, huh?” he said.

  “I want to sleep in here, too,” Zoe said.

  “Can’t. It’s for men only.”

  Susan parted the flaps, knelt in a triangle of black grass and stars. “This looks like it’ll be fine,” she said.

  Then Jamal was in the triangle with her. Zoe saw his hair, the indistinct glitter of his eyes.

  “Cool,” he said.

  “Come on in,” Will told him.

  Jamal hesitated, and climbed in. Zoe saw how much like an animal he could be. She thought of a raccoon sneaking into the tent, the sense of ownership it would bring.

  “Cool,” Jamal said. He sat close to her. She took a corner of his T-shirt between her fingers.

  “Maybe,” she said, “the boys will let you sleep out here with them.”

  Will said, “Sure, if you want to. I think there’s room for three of us.”

  Jamal looked at Zoe. She felt his desire and his fear. She knew about his need to stay with her and his need to go away.

  “Go on,” she said. “It’d be fun, you’ve never slept in a tent before.”

  He pulled his knees up to his chin. He made the smallest possible package of himself, sat silendy before Zoe and Will.

  “You don’t snore, do you?” Will asked.

  “No,” Jamal said.

  “Well, you’re invited. You can protect Harry and me if we get scared.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Right. It is. You can stay out here if you want to. If you don’t want to, nobody’s going to be offended.”

  “Okay,” Jamal said. “I’ll stay with you.”

  Later, in the house, Jamal changed into yellow pajama bottoms. He still wore his Jesus and Mary Chain T-shirt. Zoe stood in the bathroom doorway as he brushed his teeth. “This will be fun,” she said.

  Jamal watched his reflection in the speckled mirror. A moth whirred dryly against the painted tin lampshade.

  “You like Will and Harry, don’t you?” she said.

  He nodded. He might have liked Will and Harry. He might only have wanted to please her.

  She said, “Do you want to take something out there with you? One of the Star Trek people?”

  “No,” he said impatiently, through toothpaste. His love of the Star Trek figures had become a secret vice. He believed he was too old for toys. Zoe thought, A mother knows too many secrets. That’s why she has to die.

  Jamal spit toothpaste in the sink, rinsed his mouth. Here was the steadiness of his being, as he cupped water in his hands and took it to his mouth. Here were the years to come, a night and another and another.

  “Come on,” Zoe said. “I’ll walk out there with you.”

  When she and Jamal went outside, she could see that something was wrong. Her father stood near the tent in his fighting posture, feet planted wide apart and hands fisted on his hips. Zoe wondered if he knew how feminine he looked in that position, how much like an indignant queen. Will was talking to him and Harry stood behind Will, neither present nor apart.

  “—fucking believe this,” Will said to their father’s angry face.

  “Calm down,” their father said. “Just keep cool, here.”

  Zoe and Jamal walked through the grass to where her father and Will and Harry stood.

  “Zoe,” their father said. His face changed. His face stopped, paused, pulled back a quarter inch.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  Will said, “Dad doesn’t want Jamal to sleep with us.”

  Their father did not move. If somebody tipped him over, he’d have fallen with his hands still on his hips and his feet still wide. He’d lie in the grass like a toppled statue of Queen Victoria wearing men’s clothes.

  “What?”

  “Take Jamal back to the house, Zo,” their father said.

  Will said, “No, oh no you don’t. Jamal should hear this, it’s part of his education.”

  “You don’t have any shame, do you?” their father said.

  ‘You ready for this one?” Will said to Zoe. “Dad’s afraid Harry and I will molest Jamal if he stays in the tent with us.”

  “Don’t you tell her that. I didn’t say that.”

  “Go ahead, deny it.”

  “Jamal’s got his own bed in the house,” their father said. “He’s too young for this, that’s all I said.”

  “Right,” Will said. “He’s too young to sleep out in the back yard. Dad, you are a piece of work, you know that? You are one fucking piece of work.”

  “Watch your language, mister. Zoe, you and Jamal go back in, now.”

  “Don’t move,” Will said. “Don’t you move.”

  “Dad,” Zoe said. “Please.”

  “You evil bastard,” Will said. “You really think—”

  “Stop this, now,” their father said.

  “Or what? Or you’ll beat me up? I’ve got news, Dad. You can’t do it anymore.”

  “Be quiet,’ Zoe said. “Both of you.”

  “I take a lot from you,” their father said to Will. “You show up here with your boyfriend, parade around in front of the kids, I don’t mind. I keep my mouth shut. But when you tell me you’re planning on having an eleven-year-old boy sleeping between you all night, that’s where I put my foot down. That’s where I have to step in.”

  “I’m your son, goddammit,” Will said. “However much you hate me. And you really think, you honestly think . . . I can’t even say it. You’re the fucking pervert.”

  “This kid’s grown up with enough bad influences,” their father said. “You expect him to grow up twisted just so you don’t have to feel guilty?”

  “Guilty? You think I’ve got things to feel guilty about?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “After all you’ve done. Look at Susan. Look at Zoe.”

  “What do Susan and Zoe have to do with any of this? What are you talking about?”

  Will was going to kill their father. Zoe saw it. It rose off him in waves. Will had taken on a murderous clarity, and he was going to fall on their father and batter his head until his head stopped. Zoe saw that Will had been preparing himself for this. He was a man physically powerful enough to murder their father with the raw strength of his body. That was the true purpose. That was what men were doing in gyms.

  “Will,” she said.

  Harry put his hand on Will’s shoulder and said, “Come on now, let’s just go.”

  Will hesitated. At the touch of Harry’s hand the rage faltered, and began to turn. Slowly, with an immense and weary patience, Will shook his head.

  “Fine,” Will said. “I’d like nothing more than to get out of here and never have to look at this asshole’s face again.”

  “You don’t talk to me like that,” their father said. He stood in a cold fury of righteous, fading strength.

  “I don’t talk to you at all from now on,” Will said. “Ever.”

  He turned to Zoe and Jamal. His face was dark with anger and
something else, something that lay on anger’s other side. It looked like a kind of terrible inspiration.

  “We’re going to go,” he said softly to Zoe and Jamal. “Sorry. I’ll call you when you get back to the city.”

  She nodded. He and Harry kissed her, and Will shook Jamal’s hand.

  “The tent’s all yours, buddy,” he said. “Our parting gift.”

  They walked through the kitchen door, past Susan and Magda and Ben. In less than ten minutes they’d packed their suitcases and gotten into the car. Susan and Zoe walked to the car with them.

  “This is crazy,” Susan said. “Don’t leave.”

  “We can’t stay,” Will told her. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come in the first place, I should have known something like this would happen.”

  “Why don’t you give it one more try? Let me talk to him first.”

  Will took both Susan’s hands in his. He pulled her close to him.

  “Remember,” he said, “how I told you once I was going to kill him?”

  “No,” she said.

  “I remember it perfectly. We were in the back yard together, we were kids. I told you I was going to kill him one day, and you know, tonight I almost did. I really almost did.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I think I might have done it.”

  “Billy,” Susan said. “I mean, Will—”

  He kissed her quickly. “I’ll see you later, Sooz,” he said. “I’ll come to Connecticut. Bye, Zoe.”

  “Bye.”

  Will kissed her, and Harry kissed her. She took Will’s hand to her face, pressed her lips to the backs of his fingers.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  Harry told her, “Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for him.”

  Harry fired the ignition, and they drove away. Zoe thought she saw Will bury his face in his hands. She thought she saw Harry stroke his head. She stood in the road with Susan.

  “Well,” Susan said.

  That was all she said. They stood in the road, in darkness, until the red lozenges of Harry’s taillights were gone.

  Back in the living room, their father sat heavily on the sofa. Magda had gone upstairs to bed. Their father shook his head. “Sorry you had to see that,” he said. “I just felt like I had to put my foot down.”

  Susan said, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”