Oh!

by Mary Robison

“These weren’t for me,” Maureen said. “They’re meat. I don’t eat meat anymore. They were for you and Virginia, so you could have something hot.” She tipped the pan and let the charred sausages roll off and bounce onto the table. Virginia yelped and shoved back in her chair.

  “Help yourself,” Maureen said.

  “Nothing more for her to drink,” Cleveland said to Lola. “And don’t you dare clean that up. Let her.”

  Maureen sat down and finished her whiskey. “It’s boiling hot in here,” she said. “Can’t we turn the air conditioner back on?”

  Howdy bounded back into the room and pulled a chair over to the table. He lifted one of Maureen’s black hors d’oeuvres from where it had landed in the sugar bowl. He juggled it from palm to palm. “Hot,” he said. “Who threw these out for us?”

  “Maureen did it,” Virginia said.

  “Thanks,” Howdy said. “Steph and I were talking about Europe for a honeymoon. I was talking about it, actually. She hasn’t said yes yet.”

  “God bless her,” Lola said.

  “I haven’t been to Europe since the war,” Cleveland said. “It was a very untidy continent at the time.”

  “Which war was this?” Howdy said.

  “Think about it,” Maureen said to her brother.

  “Oh.” Howdy bit into the sausage.

  “Europe costs a fortune,” Cleveland said. “Dan and Elsie Willinger just got back, and Dan told me they paid eight dollars for a sweet roll and a Coke in Paris.”

  “God,” Virginia said.

  “Dan Willinger’s head of quality control for me,” Cleveland said.

  “We’d skip Paris,” Howdy said. “We’d bike around and backpack and stay in hostels.”

  “Still,” Cleveland said, “there’d be your fares over and back.”

  Howdy thought a moment. “Well, sure. But we can get jobs and stack up some dough. Steph can do lots of things. I heard about a job I can get reading best-sellers onto tapes for blind people.”

  “You two could work your way over on a tramp steamer,” Maureen said.

  “Yeah,” Howdy said, “stuff like that.”

  Cleveland was chewing at a piece of chicken. “And here’s a thought,” he said. “Why don’t you take Lola? You’ll need somebody to see to your clothes and get your reservations for you and put some decent meals together at roadside after the long days of bicycling in the Alps and to figure out that foreign money.”

  “Steph and I want to go alone,” Howdy said.

  “Oh, hell,” Cleveland said, “and here I was getting ready to get a passport and oil my bicycle chain.”

  “Violet would love to go,” Maureen said. “Why not take Violet, Howdy?”

  Howdy thumped down his fist and the tableware rattled. “Settle down!” he shouted.

  Virginia giggled. “I think there’s something on my foot.” She ducked her head under the table.

  Maureen went to the kitchen and poured soda into one of Violet’s Tweetie Pie tumblers. She tonged in some ice from a metal bucket. There was a loud banging on the kitchen door.

  She yanked it open and said, “Now what?”

  Chris cuffed the frame of the door and came inside. He had bathed and shaved. His clean hair reflected light and he smelled of soap. He had changed his clothes. He was dressed in a pale shirt, summery trousers, moccasins.

  Maureen turned her back to him and started for the dining room. Chris followed her. He grabbed her by the arms. “Let go, please,” she said. “I don’t want to spill Violet’s drink.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Cleveland yelled from the table.

  “No one, Daddy! Never mind!” She said, “Chris, for the last time, I’m serious. Leave me alone.”

  “Why?” he said.

  “You know why.” She whirled, swatted at him, and missed. Chris laughed, and Maureen said, “I swear to God, you make me insane.” She tossed the soda into his face. He spun away, and she pounded him between the shoulder blades with her fist.

  Cleveland came to the doorway with Lola behind him just as Chris was turning on Maureen, his open palm raised and ready to slap her.

  “Don’t do it!” Lola barked.

  “My Lord,” Cleveland said.

  “Bastard,” Maureen said.

  Chris wiped his face on his sleeve. “I only came to get my shirt—the one Mo was wearing today. That’s all I came for, and to kiss Violet good night.”

  “Just leave,” Maureen said.

  “That’s right,” Cleveland said. “Get in your car and blow before we get a restraining order down on you. What the hell’s your problem, anyway?”

  “Scram,” Lola said.

  Chris said, “My daughter is living in a madhouse. That bothers me a lot.”

  “We don’t want to hear it,” Cleveland said. “As far as I’m concerned, you were never a father to Violet. You gave up your rights long ago. I don’t want to hear one more word about it. You never gave Maureen a red cent. If she wanted to, she could’ve claimed half your lottery money. Did you ever think of that? It’s hers, but she’s too decent a person to ask for it. We’ve done our best for Violet and you haven’t done spit.”

  “I’d marry Maureen. She won’t marry me,” Chris said.

  “Good,” Lola said.

  Howdy stepped in from the dining room. “There’s no reason to yell, is there?” he said. “Hey, really, what’s the matter out here?”

  “We want Chris to leave and he won’t,” Maureen said.

  “He’ll go. One way or another,” Cleveland said. He moved up close to Chris.

  “You’ll give yourself a stroke,” Chris said.

  Cleveland laughed at him. “Oh? Is that what I’ll do?”

  “I’ll walk you out to your car, Chris. Why don’t I?” Howdy said. “I want to hear about living in Canada, because I’m getting married soon and my bride and I are thinking about moving to Canada.”

  “I don’t need anybody to walk me to my car,” Chris said. He wiped his face again. “I’ll come back tomorrow when you’re all sober.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Lola said.

  “Just try,” Cleveland said. “I’ll have you in the pokey for life imprisonment.”

  “You’re all crazy,” Chris said.

  Maureen said, “Why don’t you just drive yourself off a bridge somewhere? Do me and Violet a favor and go erase yourself.”

  “I’ll see to you first,” Chris said, his voice trembling.

  “I interpret that remark as a threat, boy,” Cleveland said. “I’m a witness to one of my children being threatened. You’re going to jail for that. You better get out of here because the forces of justice are about to descend on you.”

  Maureen started crying.

  Chris brought a cigarette from his breast pocket. “Does anybody have a light? My matches seem to be wet for some reason.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Howdy said, smiling.

  “Call the police,” Lola said.

  “Everyone’s lit and no one has matches? What’ll you tell the police?” Chris said, his cigarette waggling between his lips. “They’ll lock the bunch of you up.”

  “Will you just quit this?” Maureen sobbed.

  Chris wheeled around and ambled out the kitchen door.

  Maureen went to the windows in the breakfast room. She stood watching as Chris walked along the driveway. He stopped at Virginia’s car. He used the cigarette lighter on the dashboard. Maureen dried her eyes with her fists. She went back to the counter and poured another glass of soda pop for Violet.

  Cleveland sighed and threw his big arm around her. Lola bustled back and forth. She dished a pudding dessert into stemmed cups. She sprinkled cinnamon on top.

  The front-door chimes sounded again. Maureen’s lips tightened. She grabbed up the glass of soda and headed through the dining hall to the foyer. Howdy cringed a little. He said, “Couldn’t we let Lola answer that?”

  “No!” Maureen screamed. She flung open the door. A township polic
eman was standing on the porch, holding Violet’s hand.

  “Does this belong here?” the policeman said. He had a new-looking mustache.

  “Of course,” Maureen said. “Why? Where was she? Violet, where were you?”

  “She’s all right, Miss,” the policeman said. “Try to calm down.”

  “What?” Maureen said.

  “I just went out,” Violet said. “I’m all right.”

  “Out to where?” Maureen said.

  “The lights from my cruiser picked her up,” the policeman said. “She was jumping around near the road. Dressed like this.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly cold,” Maureen said.

  “It’s dark,” the policeman said.

  “Violet, why did you go out?” Maureen said. “Tell me, and it better be good. I really could throttle you. Not really,” she mouthed to the officer.

  “I just went for a minute,” Violet said.

  The policeman said, “You might tell her, Miss, that we’ve got some bad characters running loose. Ones that might startle a little girl or even do worse. I’ve seen a lot of bad characters.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Maureen said. She pulled Violet to her.

  “Good night, now,” the policeman said. “You stay in your nice house, little girl.”

  “I promise,” Violet said.

  “Thank you,” Maureen called as the policeman turned away. He sauntered, hips jiggling, down to the turnaround, where his cruiser was parked, its red beacon beating.

  Howdy sidled into the foyer. “Violet, I’m happy to see you up,” he said. “Uncle Howdy’s getting married!”

  Maureen said, “You’re lucky, Violet. You realize you’re a very lucky girl? He might have thrown us all in prison. Now take this son-of-a-bitch soda.”

  “Wish me best wishes,” Howdy said. “Congratulate your uncle, the groom.”

  13

  I could guiltlessly murder you,” Maureen said. She waved Violet’s top sheet in the air, then let it float down over the small body.

  “I have two things,” Violet said, holding up two fingers.

  Maureen stuffed the sheet under the mattress as she moved around the canopied bed. “They’d better be short and sweet.”

  “Okay,” Violet said. “Number one is this finger. Number two is the other one.”

  Maureen tucked the sheet under Violet’s chin, which Violet had made fat by tilting down her face.

  Violet pulled her arms and shoulders out from under. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  Maureen sighed, looked at the ceiling, put her hands on her hips. “What?”

  “Can we camp out on the den floor tonight and have a slumber party?”

  “I’d do it, Violet, but Grandpa hates it so much in the morning. He hates to see us asleep, period. Besides, you’ve been too bad.”

  “Please, please,” Violet said. “Come on, Mom.”

  “Okay, here’s what I’ll do,” Maureen said. “I’ll go to the bathroom and take a bath, and if you’re asleep when I come back, I’ll think about it and probably we can do it.”

  “Can Howdy do it, too?”

  “I’ll ask him, but only if you’re really, truly asleep when I’m finished with my bath.”

  14

  The water made the house pipes thunder. Maureen lined up her bath things on the outside ledge of the tub. She undressed and put on a long yellow robe. She went for an ashtray.

  At the end of the hall there was TV light from the den. She found Howdy sitting on the back of the sofa. He was feeding himself from a bag of potato chips.

  “Come and watch Jack Benny,” he said.

  Maureen plopped down by his feet. “I can’t now. I’m taking a bath.”

  “Benny’s going to Palm Springs,” Howdy said. “It’s that one. We’ve seen it.”

  “Get me a beer,” Maureen said.

  Howdy went obediently to the kitchen. Maureen crossed her legs and sat back. She had been slogging various drinks most of the day, and had the beginnings of a drunk going. In the front windows, the sky sputtered pink with heat lightning.

  “Why do you like people, Howdy?” Maureen said, taking the beer bottle from him.

  “You mean the human race?”

  “You once said it was my big problem,” Maureen said.

  Howdy climbed up onto the back of the sofa again, and went to work on the potato chips.

  “I hate life,” Maureen said.

  “Go hate it in the garage,” he said. “Let me see Jack Benny.”

  “It’s not me I feel sorry for. It’s Violet—what I’ve done to her. It’s too late for her. The handwriting’s on the wall and I can see it in her eyes. She’s going to be miserable as soon as whatever chemicals that protect children wear off. Sometimes I think she’d be better off dead.”

  Howdy munched and crossed his legs. “I’m not saying that’s a sick way of thinking,” he said. “Because I’m surprised every day we don’t all kill each other. But I think you, specifically, expect too much, Mo. All young people do, but you really expect the most of anybody I’ve ever heard of. Don’t you think it’s great that we try so hard to be good and do the right thing? And, okay, it’s predictable that we fail, but so what? Did I ever show you those photographs I have that were taken by a German woman right after World War Two? Oh, God, if I didn’t, I should go get them right now. They’re so beautiful. Of reunions. Hungry, grateful faces.”

  “My bath’s going to run over. Anyway, I hate World War Two, and I never ever want to think about it,” Maureen said.

  She hurried back through the hall. She threw off her robe and put herself into the water. She lay on her spine, knees bent, and let beer spill down both corners of her mouth as she swigged from the bottle. Her free hand paddled the water, working up suds from the soap powder that had settled on the bottom.

  Through the door, Howdy said, in a loud whisper: “One more thing. If Violet acts happy it’s not on account of some kid chemical. There are lots of morose kids, and even lots who kill themselves, and you can’t say they’re protected by being so young. If Violet were wretchedly miserable, and you’d ruined her, that’s exactly how she’d act.”

  Maureen said, “Thank you. Howdy? Do you want to sleep in the house tonight? I mean, instead of at your place? Violet wants me to have a slumber party with her.”

  “Please can we, Howdy?” Maureen heard Violet from somewhere outside the door.

  “Violet! Are you up? What did I tell you! You tell me what I said about getting up!”

  “Settle down,” Howdy said. “Listen, I’ll throw some stuff together and we’ll watch the Charlie Chan movie that’s coming on. Dad won’t like it, but what do we care?”

  “Yeah, what do we care about Dad?” Maureen said, and slid back down into the bubbly water.

  Two

  1

  Violet ate sleepily from Howdy’s bag of potato chips. She was on the sofa, almost obscured by the heavy bolster pillow on her lap. Rain was drizzling noiselessly onto the lawn, but the night had cooled only a little since dinner. Howdy had worked hard on their floor bed. He was still shaking and smoothing down the layers and layers of sheets and blankets. “This is a bed,” he said.

  Maureen said, “I’ll say. Are you happy now, Violet?”

  “Yes,” Violet said.

  Maureen went to the dark kitchen. Deep in the big refrigerator she found the last carton of Rolling Rock, and a note from Lola: “He who pops the first cap on these must restock the entire supply.” Maureen took half the bottles and carried them against her chest back to the den. On the TV screen the opening credits for Charlie Chan in Honolulu were rolling.

  “Do we have to see this movie?” Violet said.

  “We have to see it,” Howdy said.

  “It’s all that’s on,” Maureen said. “Would you rather sleep in your room?”

  “I think so.” Violet dragged herself from the sofa and shambled toward the hallway.

  “You’re kidding,” Howdy said.

&nb
sp; “Just let her go,” Maureen said.

  Howdy got off his knees and slung a sofa cushion at the floor. “Violet, you little traitor!”

  “Good night, kiddo,” Maureen called to her daughter. “And scrub your teeth after eating that junk. God, you’d think we were hillbillies who never heard of nutrition.”

  “Good night,” the little voice answered.

  “Only a mother could overlook this,” Howdy said. “What total ingratitude.” He stared at his slumber-party creation and then at Maureen.

  “Go ahead. You can have it,” she said.

  “Naw, I’d feel stupid.”

  “Yeah, you’ll feel stupid but do it anyway.”

  “I’d feel stupid when Lola finds me.”

  “This looks good. Let’s watch it awhile,” Maureen said. “We can decide later where we’re going to sleep.”

  Two-thirds of the way through Charlie Chan in Honolulu, Cleveland came home. His hair was damp and there was mist on his shoes. When he said hello, he looked at the furniture and not at his children. He spent time in the kitchen and then brought in a bowl of Lola’s soup and four pieces of cold chicken. “Haven’t you all seen every one of these by now?” He waved a piece of chicken at the TV.

  Howdy said, “We half-watched this one once, but we missed a lot. There was company here, or something.”

  “I know I’ve seen this one,” Cleveland said. “The ship’s captain is the culprit. He did it.”

  “That’s good,” Howdy said.

  Cleveland slurped his soup. When he was through eating, he drank from a plastic bottle of antacid. “Fire down below,” he said. He pressed his hand on his belly.

  “How was your evening?” Maureen said.

  Cleveland shifted his position a little. He took another swallow of antacid. “I don’t know,” Cleveland said.

  “I’m trying to concentrate,” Howdy said.

  Cleveland said, “So after we didn’t go to Bacon’s, we didn’t go to La Scala.”

  “I remember that place,” Maureen said. “We went there for my—something. Not graduation.”

  “You didn’t have a graduation,” Cleveland said. “It must have been for the something.”

  “I know, Dad,” Maureen said.