Pew(24)

He laughed lightly, but only for a moment, and when I looked at him, I could see the part of Roger that never moved. Too much light will blind you and too much water will drown you. It is a danger to accept anything real from another person, to know something of them. A person has to be careful about the voices they listen to, the faces they let themselves see.
Roger stood quickly, began pacing as his tone became lifting and light; the pressure of the moment fell away like a shrugged-off coat.
Tammy and Hal, they’re very progressive, you know. That’s why I thought you might like to visit with them. People thought maybe you’d relate to Tammy, since she’s … well, since she’s Tammy. Long time ago they had a child, adopted of course because—well—anyway, it’s a sad story and since then they keep dogs and chickens and I think they used to keep peacocks over here, too, or I thought they did. And everyone thought it would be good for you and Nelson to visit again. Then after dinner I’ll take you back to Hilda and Steven’s place—so, that’s the plan. You’ll stay with them again … everyone decided that was the best. Consistency. That sort of thing.
Tammy came out onto the porch and lit a cigarette. She was wearing an apron and her hair was tied up in a blue bandanna. Roger, is there anything—but she stopped herself, looked toward the window, came closer to Roger, and lowered her voice—is there anything Nelson won’t eat? I tried asking him but he wasn’t saying much but I just thought there are rules about what they can eat—aren’t there? Like kosher but something else—what’s the word for it?
Oh, I think he just eats whatever at this point. He’s been here for a while and they didn’t tell me anything when I called about him.
Tammy nodded, stood up straight, and took a long vanishing drag from her cigarette. Huh, she said. Well, I guess that’s good because we’re having chicken-fried pork chops and I just didn’t even think about it until he got here and I saw him and thought, Oh, no—I forgot to ask about that … boy.
When we went inside, Hal and Nelson were watching the television, Nelson gripping the soft limbs of his armchair and Hal smoking a pipe. On the television a teenage girl was being interviewed, her face collapsing into tears, reopening to speak, collapsing again. On the screen below—ALMOSE COUNTY IN CRISIS.
We should probably turn that off about now, Tammy shouted as she passed through the room toward the kitchen, don’t you think?
Reckon so. Hal hesitated for a moment, then stood and aimed the remote at the screen. A heavy quiet fell on the room.
Put on a record—don’t you think we should put on a record? Tammy asked from the kitchen. Hal didn’t answer, just moved through the room, then put his pipe between his teeth, freeing both hands to slide a record from its sleeve.
I know I shouldn’t—he said through a clenched jaw—and before dinner and all, but, man alive—he took the pipe from his mouth, set the needle on the record—everything is just so strange lately—a woman began to sing—I can’t help but smoke like a goddamn barbecue.
Roger started to say something, then stopped, started, then stopped again. I don’t know, but I just—no … no … Never mind.
Times like these—well, I keep thinking about evilness—
Yes, exactly, Roger said.
Anyway, we were both just about to quit with the smoking, you know, and had even planned last week that this was the week we’d cut down, but now—well, I just can’t. Or I haven’t. Or I don’t want to. Can’t seem to do anything right these days.
Roger nodded, looked at his hands in his lap. Nelson was looking around the room, looking into one corner, then another.
And this time of year, what with Saturday coming up and all … I mean, I keep having this feeling that I’m glad it’s happening in Almose and not here—ain’t that a mean thought? Hal looked up at the ceiling fan, held his pipe in one hand, and squinted. Glad about someone’s suffering because at least it ain’t your own.
Softly I gripped the back of my other hand, that forgotten place where the knuckles grow. Tammy called us into the dining room and directed us each to a seat at the table. Hal said a blessing and the table went quiet with eating until Tammy said, Oh, isn’t this nice? The two of you, new friends. It’s just so nice to see. I think it’s great.
Great, Nelson said, uh-huh. As a train roared by, Tammy caught a spider with a glass and newspaper, then went outside to release it.
She’s always doing that sort of thing, Hal said to us, the train howling farther from us now. Letting bugs out of the house like that. He shook his head. They’re just going to come back in, I tell her, but she ain’t having it.
After dinner Nelson and I were given two bowls of ice cream, a deck of cards, and told to go out back and entertain ourselves. As soon as the back door shut, Nelson pulled a metal flask from his pocket, took a swig, poured some over his ice cream, and passed it to me.
The metal was skin warmed—I could have cried—but I just repeated the long sip and pour, just as he’d done it. The last drops, pale brown, fell over the ice cream like rusted water into a basin.
You know where I get it? The whiskey?
I shook my head.
Butch gives it to me. He keeps me stocked. I keep thinking it’s because he feels sorry that we both have to put up with Kitty. She wants me to call her Mom but I won’t. My mom’s dead, I told her one time, and she started crying, and Butch told her to stop and I said something about how she didn’t even know my mom, and why would she cry about someone she doesn’t know, but she just cried more, then she got mad and got up in my face, so Butch made her go upstairs and started giving me this, whatever it is, bourbon. Anyway this afternoon Kitty tells me I’m going to see my new friend. And I say, Who? And she says, Pew, your friend. And, I mean—no offense—but we are not friends. Not to me. I mean, I don’t know you. You don’t know me. So I tell her, How can Pew be my friend? We don’t even know each other. And she says something about how we all need to be welcoming to you, and anyway that you and me must have a lot in common. And I say, Because we’re both brown? Must seem all the same to her. And you know what? She fucking laughs. She didn’t even answer me at all. Just laughed. But now that I see you again—I don’t know—you seemed darker the other day. It’s weird … Never mind. I mean, I don’t care. I don’t give a shit.