33 Snowfish Read online

  “Yeah?”

  “I like how —”

  “Easter’s comin’.”

  I was like, “Damn, Seldom, let me say the shit!”

  “Well, go ’head and say it then. Quit stallin’!”

  I waited for him to start rocking again and then I went, “I like how the reflection looks . . . in the window,” and I said it kind of slow cuz for some reason that shit was like almost impossible to say.

  Seldom went, “What about it?”

  “I like it cuz . . . it’s like there’s two trees. Like it’s double, okay? Damn!”

  Then we was quiet again. I swear, for some reason, saying that shit was like pulling a bone out of my stomach.

  After a minute, Seldom went, “You ain’t never had no tree, have you?”

  I was like, “I had a tree.”

  “When?”

  “I had one.”

  “Shoo.”

  “One night when I stayed at this juvy hotel in Franklin Park. They had a tree there. Right where you signed the book.”

  “Right where you signed the book? You sure?”

  “Yeah, it was blue.”

  “A blue tree?”

  “It was fake.”

  “Good Godfrey.”

  “I liked it.”

  “Prolly smelled like a furniture store.”

  “I slept under it.”

  “You did?”

  “Right on the snow.”

  Seldom waited a few seconds after that and went, “I ’spose the snow was blue, too.”

  I was like, “It was white.”

  Then we didn’t say nothing and I threw the last few pieces of popcorn into the fire. After they popped I felt like talking for some reason, so I went, “I couldn’t never sleep in them wack beds they had.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Seldom went, “I know why.”

  And even though I knew it was a trap, I was like, “Why?”

  Then he went, “Cuz you so ornery.”

  “I ain’t ornery.”

  “Ornery as a bowl fulla bees.”

  “I just ain’t used to sleeping in no bed, okay?”

  Then Seldom was quiet for a minute. You could hear the rocking chair creaking. He didn’t seem like he was gonna say nothing so I kept going.

  I went, “Them beds at them Rockdale juvy hotels is too skinny, anyways. Felt like you was laying in a coffin and shit.”

  Seldom didn’t say nothing about that. Instead he went, “You slept all night under a blue Christmas tree?”

  “Till the security pig kicked me out.”

  “Why’d he kick you out?”

  “Cuz he caught me trying to steal some presents.”

  “Jimster.”

  “Wasn’t shit in ’em ’cept for some Styrofoam.”

  “Good Godfrey.”

  “And peanuts. You’d think them juvy hotel people would give a kid more than some Styrofoam peanuts. That place was wack, anyways.”

  “You a character.”

  “You a character.”

  “Crazy Jimster.”

  “Crazy Seldom.”

  Then Seldom made this face like he was crazy, with his long pink tongue flopping out of his mouth like some half-cooked fish and his big white eyes popping.

  On top of that, he flipped his bottom teeth out at me and that shit made me laugh.

  Seldom went, “Got you to smile.”

  I was like, “I ain’t smiling,” but I was smiling so hard I could feel it in my feet and shit.

  “Don’t do it too much you might hurt yourself.”

  I tried to stop but I couldn’t. It felt like feathers was flying through my body, from the top of my head all the way down to my toes. I laughed like that for like two minutes, and those two minutes felt all loose and jangly, cuz it was like the three of us — me and Seldom and the baby — it was like the three of us was all warm from the fireplace and from throwing the popcorn at the tree and from just being there together and shit.

  But then after a minute, for some reason I started eating that laughter, and about halfway through eating it I started crying. I don’t know why. And it wasn’t just no normal little-bitch cry; that shit felt like it was coming out of my feet and my ass and the bones in my back.

  Then, the next thing I knew, I was walking over to Seldom where he was rocking in his rocking chair. It was like my legs was going on their own, one, two, three. And then I was like on my knees and shit and hugging his long bony shins. And I cried into his legs for a long time and he just sat there and rocked away, going, “It’s okay, Jimster. It’s gonna be okay.” And he said it like skeighty-eight times with his old scratchy voice.

  The fire smelled all thick and sweet and that reflection of the Christmas tree was kinda shining in the window and you could see the snow falling through it.

  I’ll never forget how good them long bony shins felt in my arms. And I’ll never forget the sound of that rocking chair creaking back and forth. And I’ll never forget how Seldom’s hand was like a big warm hat holding my head together.

  I’m in the bathroom sitting on the toilet. The water’s going in the shower and there’s so much steam it’s like I’m in a cloud. I like getting the steam up in the bathroom so I can make Pigmy feet on the mirror.

  All of the sudden the door opens and Seldom’s standing there, ducking his head in.

  He goes, “Hey, Jimster.”

  I’m like, “Hey what?”

  “How come you don’t never wash yourself?”

  I go, “I do.”

  Then he goes, “No you don’t. You turn the water on but you don’t never get in. You just sit there on the toilet like you doin’ now.”

  “I get in.”

  “No you don’t.”

  I’m like, “Shows what you know.”

  Then Seldom says, “You don’t got no reason to lie to me.”

  “I ain’t lyin’.”

  “You know the door don’t close all the way. I see you sittin’ there like that every time. Either sittin’ there or playin’ that game on the mirror. What’s that game you always playin’, anyway?”

  I go, “I ain’t playin’ no game.”

  He waves some steam away from his face and goes, “Wastin’ all that water. What kinda sense is that?”

  I go, “You waste more water than me.”

  “Shoo.”

  I go, “You gotta use more water to clean them old skanky bones.”

  “The only thing I’m wastin is my time tryin’ to talk some sense into you.”

  Then I don’t say nothing. I just stick my hand under the water and flick it at him. He ducks all low like I’m throwing rocks at him or some shit.

  He goes, “Stop, now,” and starts reaching out for this little wack-looking towel that he keeps over the sink. He finally grabs it and wipes his face, and he wipes that shit a lot longer than he has to.

  Then he goes, “And you smell terrible.”

  I go, “You smell terrible.”

  “You need to take some soap and water to your dirty self.”

  “I don’t need to do shit.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself. I’m just trying to help you.”

  I’m like, “I don’t need no help.”

  He says, “You sure don’t, do you. You don’t never need nothin’ from no one.”

  Now the steam is going out into the house and he’s waving at it like it’s a bunch of mosquitoes or some shit.

  “I put them extra washcloths in there and everything for you, too,” he says, still waving at that steam.

  Then I flick some more water at him and he takes these big long bow-legged steps across the bathroom and reaches into the shower and turns the water off.

  “Ain’t no one gonna like bein’ around you, smellin’ like you do. That’s why Deuce don’t like you.”

  I go, “Can’t I get no privacy? What do you care what I’m doin’ in here?”

  He just stands there looking at them Pigm
y feet I made on the mirror. For a minute I think he might reach out and touch one, but instead of touching one he goes, “And why don’t you never wash your hair? I bought you that fancy shampoo and everything. That dippity-doo stuff that smells like soda pop.”

  I just look at him staring at them Pigmy feet and go, “Wash your own hair.” Then I go, “Oh yeah, you don’t got none.”

  He goes, “Ha ha, very funny.”

  And I’m like, “Ha ha, very funny,” right back at him.

  “So funny I forgot my keys.”

  I say, “That don’t even make no sense.”

  “Forgot my keys and forgot my knees. Trees, bees, and a truckloada fleas.”

  It usually makes me laugh when he says that crazy shit, but I hide it pretty good. I feel like I pretty much got his ass beat this time.

  But then Seldom comes real close and looks at me and sees how my face is starting to lift cuz of that stuff he said about the trees and the bees and the fleas living in that truck, so he reaches down real quick — and that old nigger can get quick when he wants to — he reaches down and sticks his thumbs in my ribs. Whenever he does that I can’t help but laugh cuz of how long and bony them old creaky thumbs are. When I jump he lifts the toilet seat and holds it up and stares into the bowl like he’s staring at a dead rat.

  Then he lowers the seat and goes, “And flush the durn toilet, Jimster. I don’t want to be always walkin’ in on your slops like that.”

  I go, “You flush the dang toilet.”

  Then he goes, “I didn’t say dang I said durn,” and he says it all quick like he won.

  I just go, “Durn toilet. Whatever.”

  Then he thumbs me in the ribs again and I laugh and a little green booger flies out of my nose and sticks to my shirt.

  Now Seldom’s laughing, too. And he’s laughing so hard he’s gotta lean up against the sink so he won’t fall in the shower.

  He goes, “You a piece of work, Jimster,” and then he reaches over and flushes the toilet. “A real piece of work.”

  The night after we took the tree down and dragged it out back next to the shed I woke up under the kitchen table all strange and wack-feeling.

  The baby was sleeping real good and the moonlight from the kitchen window was reaching into the TV and laying on his face all soft and blue and quiet. It was so blue it even made the seam in his forehead look kinda blue.

  I crawled out from under the kitchen table and walked into Seldom’s room. It was cold and I was kinda shivering and you could feel the air from the basement coming through the cracks in the floor. I had them astronaut legs and it felt like I was walking in a time warp and shit.

  Through the living room window I could see the Christmas tree laying next to the shed. It was all sad and wack-looking, like somebody shot it with a gat or some shit. There was still some popcorn stuck in the branches.

  I had to open the door to Seldom’s room real quiet, cuz it squeaks like them old creaky shinbones in his legs.

  There ain’t shit in his room but his big old bed that looks like a boat and this wooden box that he keeps near the bed. He always keeps half of his teeth soaking in a glass of water, and next to the glass is this picture of him and his wife from when they was married. It’s black-and-white like them pictures you see in newspapers and it’s got a date on the frame. I can’t do the math right but you can tell that that shit is like skeighty-eight years old cuz the corners is all skanked and yellow.

  In the picture Seldom don’t have none of them old wrinkles on his forehead and he’s got hair and his smile is so big it’s like half the moon shining in the middle of his face.

  His wife’s got these big juicy lips and she’s real pretty for a nigger woman. Their heads are kinda touching like they got the same thought; like they got that psychic love thing going and shit.

  Seldom was asleep and his face was all black and burnt-looking. His mouth was kind of open and his bottom teeth was missing. But his top teeth was so white they looked like that shit the toilet factories use.

  You could hear the air sliding in and out of his lung bubbles, going sloosh-sloosh-sloosh, and you could see his one eye twitching a little.

  The moon looked all swollen in the window, and that same blue light that was laying on the baby’s face was laying across Seldom’s, too.

  He almost looked like he was dead with them bottom teeth missing and that moonlight on his face. I just stood there and watched him sleep for a minute.

  When he woke up his nose twitched a little and he just laid there and stared at me.

  “What you doin’, Jimster?”

  I didn’t say nothing back. I just took my pants down and climbed up in his bed. His mattress is real high off the floor so you kind of have to jump up in it.

  After I got up in his bed I turned away from him and got on my hands and knees like a dog.

  I didn’t notice it when I walked in the room, but on the wall across from his bed there was a picture of this clown with balloons in his cheeks. The clown had this upside-down smile and he looked sad and happy at the same time. I just stared at the picture and waited for Seldom to do what I knew he was going to do.

  Seldom went, “Jimster?” again, but I just stayed there like that for a minute. I just stayed there all doggy-style and naked with my ass in the air.

  Seldom went, “You asleep, Jimster?”

  I just went, “Go ’head, Seldom. Go on and do me.”

  Then I closed my eyes tight and I held my breath cuz I knew he had his big nigger dick out and I knew it was all long and scabby and I knew it had that hook on the end of it like Bob Motley talked about.

  And I just knew that shit was going to hurt when he stuck it in me and took my buns, too. It didn’t matter how much hair grease or motor oil he used. But I didn’t care. I just said it again.

  I went, “Go on and fuck me.”

  But Seldom didn’t do shit. He just grabbed me and turned me around real fast and slapped me across my face and it stung like some bees and then the next thing I know he’s sliding my pants back over my feet and over my legs and over my ass, and he’s sliding them so fast they burn my knees, and then he zips up the zipper and snaps the front snap and takes his big hand and puts it on my face and wipes these hot tears off my cheeks.

  “I ain’t gonna do that to you, Jimster,” he said, kinda shaking my shoulders. “That ain’t me.”

  I felt real small all of the sudden. Smaller than I ever felt in my life. Like I was turning into a plastic toy or some shit.

  Then Seldom went, “And what’s wrong with your fanny? You got all types of stuff. . . .”

  I got out of Seldom’s bed real slow and just sat on the floor. For some reason it felt better down there.

  I did a thirty-three even though I hadn’t done one in a long time.

  My face was wet where he slapped me. I could almost feel his big-ass hand still on my skin and how the heat from it sunk way deep into my teeth and into the bones in my jaw.

  I could feel him watching me and I could feel how he was all frozen and scared, so I just kept doing that thirty-three and let them numbers make shit slow down.

  After my thirty-three I got even lower and just laid on the floor. I spread my arms and my legs as wide as they could go and just let the magnets in the earth hold me there like that.

  My heart felt all sick and small in my chest.

  After a while Seldom lowered one of his pillows and lifted my head and slid the pillow under the bend in my neck.

  I started another thirty-three. One, two, three . . .

  The last thing I remember is staring at that picture of the clown with the balloons in its cheeks.

  The next day, Seldom walked into town with them tennis rackets stuck to his shoes and came back with these little penicillin pills. I had to take them three times a day, and drinking all that water kept making me fart, but it didn’t hurt no more when I shit, and I started taking showers, too, cuz I didn’t have to worry about that burning.

 
; That shampoo Seldom got me did smell like pop, too. Like some cherry cola or some shit. I even started combing my hair. I tried to do it like Boobie’s, with a part down the middle.

  Things was pretty crisp after that.

  Me and Seldom got real good at living together.

  In the mornings, he would wake up early and feed Deuce, and I would feed the baby and change his diaper in the bathroom.

  Then I’d sweep the floor and take the trash out to the backyard and burn it and watch the smoke curl over the Itty Bitty Farm all black and skanky.

  The snow kept coming and Seldom kept watching it through the window, shaking his head, going, “My gracious light. Oh, my gracious light.” Sometimes it came down sideways, but most of the time it just came from everywhere.

  We even had to shovel our way out of the house a few times. That was kinda fun, though, like we was at the North Pole and shit.

  Seldom gave me a pair of old gloves and this long-ass yellow scarf that I had to wrap around my neck like skeighty-eight times just so I wouldn’t trip over it.

  Seldom also gave me this crazy hat that looked like a cinnamon roll.

  I got pretty crisp at walking with them tennis rackets. You gotta lift and go slow. Seldom always said, “Go slow and know the snow.”

  We kept the Christmas tree in the backyard for a long time. And even though it started turning all brown and skanky, it was still cool to look through the window and see it laying next to the shed.

  Every once in a while Deuce would come into the living room walking like one of them Bolingbrook hookers. Seldom would pop popcorn and throw it on the floor and talk to her the way you talk to someone on the telephone. Deuce would just start eating the popcorn and walk right back out, burning a stare through me with that doll’s eye the whole time.

  Sometimes it seemed like she didn’t even have to wait for Seldom to come get her from the chicken coop. It was like she could just appear; like she had special powers and shit.

  At night we’d build fires and just sit there in the living room. Sometimes you could hear that train whistle off in the distance. That was about the loneliest sound in the world. Sometimes I pictured me and the baby on that train. But in the picture we was always cold and shivering and starving to death and both of us had lung frosts.