Jim Krusoe - The Sleep Garden

It’s stories, Jeffery thinks, that are the heroin, the horse, the H, the big H, the candy, the crap, the doojee, the dope, the flea powder, the hard stuff, the junk, the mojo, the scag, the antifreeze, the brown sugar, the smack, the train, the tar, the sweet dreams, the addiction that keeps the poor old nag of the human race running around the track again and again — the promise that no matter how confusing things are, no matter how completely messed up and hopeless, even doomed, someday, somehow, everything will eventually make sense.

That’s why people keep on going, Jeffery thinks: losers because of the promise of a dramatic turn in their fucked lives — some long-lost relative, an inheritance, a winning lottery ticket, some old girlfriend, some screenplay they’ve had in a drawer for years being sold for a million dollars — and meanwhile the winners persist because that same narrative keeps patting them on their backs. You are so right , that narrative says. You did all the right things. You deserve to be praised. Congratulations.

But how can he turn this whole narration business to his profit? That’s the million-dollar question.

Raymond thinks about how a dog will smell his owner’s shoe, remember the owner, and maybe track him down for miles. But without a shoe, or hat, or sock, what does that same dog think about his missing owner? Does the dog, while walking around his new owner’s house, doing the things dogs do, smelling the dirt and scratching his fleas, remember the good times he used to have together with his old owner, maybe at the dog park or chasing squirrels? Or are such moments only saved up in his dreams, like when you go into a house you have never seen before and suddenly there is something, some table or a chair or painting that you know, and you ask yourself: Where did that come from?

In other words how does Madeline remember him?

Is he in Madeline’s dreams?

To make matters worse, Heather thinks, what with all this talking on the phone — even wearing a headset so she can move when she wants to — she’s not getting all that much exercise. There’s a tiny ring of fat she can feel around her tummy, and though some guys might think it’s cute, she knows it’s best to start a new relationship without one. Once things get going, she figures, she can afford to add a pound or two, have a special dessert now and again.

First though, if she can ever get out of the Burrow, she’ll need to join a gym or health club, but until then, well, she needs to come up with a way to keep in shape while staying in her room. She pauses to think. Hmm. What kind of exercise can one do in a relatively limited space? She thinks some more, and the answer arrives.

Yes. She’ll take up yoga. In the future as she talks on the phone servicing her clients she can do all those different poses.

Namaste, motherfuckers.

Every so often Madeline thinks about those stupid decoys, how even though they were what made Raymond special, they also used to drive her fucking absolutely crazy because there she and Raymond would be, making love or whatever, and all of a sudden she would notice their tiny eyes all around her, eyes that were unable to see forward, but only to each side of their heads, and without being able to help herself she would think: What would it be like to live like that?

Even now, it’s a thing she still wonders about.

Sometimes they come to her in dreams and, when they do, she wakes up screaming.

And also the intermittent touch, the one left and then returned to, the touch like notes from a piano coming from indoors and out into the air, already faded, fading.

DECOYS

CELEBRITIES

Perform a service

Perform a service

Always smile

Always smile

Have no feelings

Hide their feelings

Are designed to float

Can float if necessary

Made of wood

Made of flesh

Help hunters

Help autograph hunters

Used for interior decoration

Used for exterior decoration

Pretend to be alive

Are usually alive

Meanwhile, in another place, leaves from a different tree that has no name are lying on the ground beneath it, stacked in order of size, ready to be tied back on.

Hurry up , they say. Get ready.

Sometimes, standing in front of a mirror in the Burrow, Madeline likes to practice for all the interviews she’ll have to give when she finally breaks into the celebrity chef business. “Madeline,” they will ask, “what is your favorite dish?”

“Signature or classic?”

“Let’s start with classic.”

Then she’ll shrug her shoulders modestly, as if she should know better but can’t help herself. “You may be surprised to hear this, Bruce, but the fact is I like nothing better than a simple omelet, perfectly prepared. The secret, if anyone cares to know, is only that you use the very best butter. I insist on butter that comes from Europe, where it is prepared using old-world methods, not the hurried modern ones that involve mixing in artificial color and other additives. And when people ask me, ‘Madeline, where can a person find such butter if they live here in the United States?’ I answer that fortunately they can find it for themselves in their own neighborhood supermarket, in the section called ‘Cooking with Madeline.’ And then I tell them if by any chance their supermarket doesn’t have such a section, they should talk to the manager and demand they install one, pronto.”

“Madeline, that is very helpful. Thank you so much. And now, out of all the fabulous recipes you have created, which would you consider to be your signature dish?”

Madeline laughs, glances at the lamp reflected in her mirror, and imagines it’s a television camera. “That’s a tough question to answer, but I suppose I would have to say the dish that has brought me most comment is my raspberry gumdrop tart, though I’m the first to admit that raspberry tarts and even gumdrops have been around for a long time. Until me, however, no one ever thought to put them together, and I find that the freshness of the fresh raspberries blends perfectly with the slightly sticky sweetness of the gumdrops (no mint, please!). The beauty of this recipe is that a person doesn’t even have to add sugar because it’s all in the gumdrops but, at the same time, be sure to cook the pastry portion of this dessert first (thirty minutes at three hundred fifty degrees), and then add the gumdrops and raspberries, because the raspberries should be nearly uncooked, and the gumdrops should be under the broiler only long enough to be glazed a little by the heat, not melted. If you aren’t sure whether you have the kind of gumdrops that resist melting you can find them in the ‘Cooking with Madeline’ section of your supermarket, where you can also find my frozen tart pastry dough. If you want to try this for yourself, you can find the recipe at cookingwithmadeline.com.”