David Wallace - Broom of the System

“ ‘By and by they came to another sandy beach like the first one. They could see another school of foolish young fish at play. As before, Reddy Fox remained on shore while the others swam out and drove the fish in. As before, Reddy caught half a dozen, while Billy Mink and Little Joe Otter each caught one this time. Reddy had five and then pretended to be so tickled over catching one, the smallest of the lot, that Billy Mink didn’t suspect a trick.’ ”

Mr. Bloemker sighed to himself and jiggled a shoe.

Lenore looked at him. “You know, you’re really more than welcome to go. I’m sure you must be busy.”

“Roughage.”

“I have been instructed to wait for the owners of the facility, or of course for a representative,” said Mr. Bloemker. “I can just as well wait here. I hope to have a chance for an additional chat, once this delightful piece is through.”

“My father’s coming down here?”

“It is not impossible.”

“I think he’s too busy gearing up for getting all pissed off about Kopek Spasova doing Gerber ads in Erieview tonight.”

“Nevertheless.”

“Roughage.”

“Is it Karl Rummage who’s coming? Do they maybe want to have you look up patients’ ages for them again?”

“For your information, I have been led to understand that the relevant unavailable facility-connected individuals will apparently be back with us very soon.”

“You said the exact same thing a couple days ago, and I called Dad, and nada.”

“But this time I have been led to the above understanding by persons connected with the ownership of the facility.”

“Roughage.”

“Mr. Rummage?”

“A young person in Chemistry, at Stonecipheco Baby Foods.”

“Obstat?”

“That sounds right.”

“Dad swore up and down that he’d call me the minute he had anything about Lenore. He said he’s about ready to call the police if she and everything else missing don’t turn up, or at least drop a line.”

Mr. Bloemker didn’t say anything. He scratched at his beard.

“Anyway,” Lenore said, “the point is that he sure didn’t call this morning. So I don’t believe it.”

Bloemker looked at his shoe and shrugged.

“And Rick and I supposedly have alternate Lenore-finding plans. Largely and weirdly Rick-inspired, but still.”

“As you wish. I will of course pass on any and all relevant information, as per our agreement.”

“You and Brenda are too kind. ”

“Roughage.”

“ ‘For the rest of the day the fishing was poor. Just as Old Mother West Wind started from the Green Meadows to take her children, the Merry Little Breezes, to their home behind the Purple Hills, the three little fishermen started to count up their catch. Then Reddy brought out all the fish that he had hidden. When they saw the pile of fish Reddy Fox had, Billy Mink and Little Joe Otter were so surprised that their eyes popped out and their jaws dropped.’ ”

“Roughage.” Concamadine’s jaw dropped, too. Her legs were straight out before her as she sat up in bed; her feet, in wool socks, pointed in different directions. Her shins, visible between the flaps of her robe, were spotted.

“ ‘Reddy walked over to the big pickerel and, picking it up, carried it over to his pile. ”What are you doing with my fish?“ shouted Billy Mink angrily.

“ ‘ ”It isn’t yours, it’s mine!“ retorted Reddy Fox.’ ”

“Roughage.”

“ ‘Billy Mink fairly danced up and down he was so angry. ”It’s not yours!“ he shrieked. ”It’s mine, for I caught it!“

“ ‘ ”And you agreed that your biggest fish should be mine if I caught more fish than you did. I’ve caught four times as many, so the pickerel is mine,“ retorted Reddy, winking at Little Joe Otter.’ ”

“Roughage roughage roughage roughage,” said Concarnadine Beadsman.

“What’s with this roughage stuff?” Lenore said. “How come she keeps saying ‘roughage’?”

“We have noted that as the autumn begins to cut into the heat that infallibly and understandably drove so many of the J-ward residents into themselves, the residents begin as it were to come around, to begin to rediscover the rewards of communication,” Mr. Bloemker said. “Recall that Concamadine said absolutely nothing all summer. Now we hear words for the sake of words. Explanation? A nurse probably remarked that it would be good for Concarnadine to eat her salad, for the roughage it contained, and Concarnadine fastened on the word, more than likely. Of course you know that here at the Shaker Heights facility we like to encourage regularity through the consumption of fiber, not through harsh chemicals.”

“Roughage.”

“Except she probably doesn’t have any idea what the word stands for,” Lenore said.

“Doubtless. Although Lenore did have ‘roughage’ in the J-ward lexicons. Shall I hunt around for one?”

“And why that word to get fixated on?” Lenore said. “Concarnadine never used to care what she ate. She even ate Stonecipheco stuff, a lot of the time, when it was around the house. She was a weird eater. One time I was little, and we went over for Christmas, and Gramma C. and Grandaddy had had a fight, and Gramma C. didn’t eat all day; she just stayed in the basement, throwing darts at a poster of Jayne Mansfield.”

Concamadine Beadsman smiled.

Mr. Bloemker leaned over the bed toward Lenore. His eyes had a way of attracting sunlight and turning weird colors behind his glasses.

“Ms. Beadsman, may I bounce a theory off you, bearing on matters we’ve previously discussed?”

“Let me finish this story. You can tell by her smile she likes it.”

“Roughage.”

“Merely this. Has it not occurred to you that a sense of shall we say social history is strongest among the young, not the old?”

“ ‘Then Billy Mink did a very foolish thing; he lost his temper completely. He called Reddy Fox bad names. But he did not dare try to take the big pickerel away from Reddy, for Reddy is much bigger than he. Finally he worked himself into such a rage that he ran off, leaving his pile of fish behind.’ ”

“That as people age, accumulate more and more private experience, their sense of history tightens, narrows, becomes more personal? So that to the extent that they remember events of social importance, they remember only for example ‘where they were’ when such-and-such occurred. Et cetera et cetera. Objective events and data become naturally more and more subjectively colored. Does this account seem reasonable?”

“ ‘Reddy Fox and Little Joe Otter took care not to touch Billy Mink’s fish, but Reddy divided his big pile with Little Joe Otter. Then they, too, started for home, Reddy carrying the big pickerel.’ ”

“Roughage.”

“Any thoughts on this? I am of course extrapolating on some of the issues we tackled when last we met face to face. Of course I feel the insight holds particularly true of Midwestemers, who stand in such an ambiguous geographical and cultural relation to certain other less occluded parts of the country that the very objective events and states of affairs that are proper objects of a social awareness must pass in transit to the awarenesses of the residents here through the filters both of subjectively colored memory and geographical ambivalence. Hence perhaps the extreme complication we can see all around us at the Shaker Heights facility.”

Behind Concamadine’s lovely red lip and the bottom row of her even teeth Lenore could see a clear lake of saliva accumulating, growing, lapping with each breath at the backs of the teeth and beginning to shine at the corners of Concamadine’s mouth as her jaw still hung low.

“ ‘Late that night, when he had recovered his temper, Billy Mink began to grow hungry. The more he thought of his fish, the hungrier he grew.’ ”