The Nix(56)

“No we won’t.”

“Because of our training.”

“That’s right.” Bishop had always insisted that members of the U.S. military underwent advanced and mysterious training that allowed them to resist, among other things, pain, fear, booby traps, and drowning. Samuel had wondered how anyone could be trained not to drown. Bishop said it was classified.

“Hide,” Bishop said. Then he dropped below the water. Samuel looked upstream to where he’d been pointing but saw nothing. He tried to imagine enemy troops advancing on their position, tried to call up the usual fear he felt during these games, tried to see the bad guys, which up until now was always very easy. To see them, the bad guys, whatever bad guys they were fighting that day—Soviet spies, the Vietcong, the redcoats, storm troopers—all they’d have to do was say it aloud and they were there, before them. Their imaginations melted into the real world. This was usually so simple that Samuel had never thought about it before, not until this moment, when it stopped working. He saw nothing, felt nothing.

Bishop popped out of the water to find Samuel staring at the trees.

“Hello? Soldier?” he said. “We’re gonna get caught?”

“It’s not working,” Samuel said.

“What’s not working?”

“My brain.”

“What’s wrong?” Bishop said.

His mind felt overwhelmed. All he could see was his mother, her absence. She was like a fog that obscured everything. He was not even able to pretend.

“My mom is gone,” he said, and even as he said it, he felt the crying come, the familiar throat constriction, the way his chin tightened and balled up like a rotten apple. Sometimes he hated himself so much.

“What do you mean, gone?” Bishop said.

“I don’t know.”

“She left?”

Samuel nodded.

“Is she coming back?”

He shrugged. He didn’t want to talk. Another word would make the crying start.

“So there’s a chance she won’t come back?” Bishop said.

Samuel nodded again.

“You know what?” he said. “You’re lucky. Seriously. I wish my parents would leave. You might not understand it now, but your mother’s done you a favor.”

Samuel looked at him helplessly. “How?” His throat felt like a hose with a knot in it.

“Because you get to be a man now,” Bishop said. “You’re free.”

Samuel did not respond. Just hung his head. Below him, he dug his bare feet into and out of the mud. This seemed to help.

“You don’t need your parents,” Bishop said. “You may not realize it now, but you don’t need anybody. This is an opportunity. This is your chance to become a different person, a new and better person.”

Samuel found a small, smooth stone on the bottom of the pond. He picked it up with his toes, then let it go.

“It’s like you’re going through training,” Bishop said. “Difficult training that will eventually make you stronger.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Samuel said. “This isn’t a game.”

“Sure it is,” Bishop said. “Everything is a game. And you have to decide whether you’re going to win or lose.”

“This is stupid.” Samuel made his way out of the pond, back to the tree where he’d organized his clothes. He sat down in the dirt and brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked slowly back and forth. At some point the crying had started. His nose was now running, his face squished, his lungs spasming.

Bishop followed him out. “Right now, I’d say you’re losing.”

“Shut up.”

“You have a losing quality about you at this moment.”

Bishop stood above him, closely, his dripping underpants sagging ridiculously between his legs. He tugged them up.

“You know what you need to do,” Bishop said. “You need to replace her.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Not with another mother. With another woman.”

“Whatever.”

“You need to find a woman.”

“For what?”

“For what.” Bishop laughed. “A woman to, you know, to take advantage of. To take liberties with.”

“I don’t want that.”

“There are plenty who will let you.”

“That won’t help.”

“Sure it will.” He took a step closer, leaned down, and touched Samuel’s cheek with the palm of his hand. It was cold and damp, but also tender, soft. “You’ve never been with a girl, right?”

Samuel looked up at him, still hugging his own legs. He was beginning to shiver. “Have you?” he said.

Bishop laughed again. “I’ve done all sorts of things.”

“Like what?”

Bishop stood silent a moment, then withdrew his hand. He walked over to the tree and leaned against it, pulling up his soggy underpants. “There are lots of girls at school. You should ask one out.”

“That’s not going to help.”

“There’s got to be someone, right? Who are you in love with?”

“Nobody.”