Miranda July - The First Bad Man

“So. The deal is if you want to watch me, you can, but you don’t have to — it doesn’t do anything for me. I just need for you to be on your back and ready when I say now .” He handed me one of my pillows. “If you could put that under your hips that’d be great.” He filled his cheeks with air and released it. “Okay?”

“Okay!” I said brightly. I felt terrible for him except he didn’t seem embarrassed. He tapped the phone. Shrieks and grunts jumped out before he quickly muted the sound and hunched over himself. The bed shook, all was quiet. This is what Kirsten meant when she said he had to look at his phone for a long time. How long was long? I quietly rolled up my nightgown over my hips. I got the pillow ready under me in case he said now . I thought about caressing his back. It had many tiny pits in it, a sprinkling of gray hair and freckles and red dots. I laid my palm between his shoulder blades; it shook with his body. I took it off. After a few minutes he picked up the phone, did some scrolling and tapping, and got set up again. I looked at the baby monitor; Jack was sweetly splayed with his arms over his head. Would it be easy or hard to sleep after this? Maybe I would have to secretly take some of my homeopathic sleeping pills. I shut my eyes to test how near sleep was.

“Now.”

My eyes jumped open; I quickly spread my legs and adjusted the pillow as he swung around and on top of me, his penis red and shiny with rose-scented lotion. He jabbed it a couple times before he found the hole. He thrust very quickly, in and out, then slowed down. A little painful, but the burning warmed away. He inhaled and exhaled in long measured breaths.

“Good to go,” he said, after a minute. He leaned down and pressed his thick lips into mine. It was a little difficult with the beard. He stopped and pushed the bristly hairs away from his mouth. Our teeth knocked.

“I’m thinking of that folk song about the old hen and old rooster,” he whispered, thrusting. “How’s that go?”

“I don’t know.” I wiped my mouth.

“ ‘Cluck, cluck, cock-a-doodle-doo and they tapped their beaks together…’ Something like that. Do you want to be on top?”

His eyes were on my breasts. Maybe it was better if they hung rather than puddled. But I shook my head no. I wouldn’t be able to think about my thing in that position.

I pulled my legs together and shut my eyes. It should have been easy but it took fierce concentration to imagine that he was on top of me. I had to erase him completely and reconstitute him, focusing on his imaginary weight as opposed to his actual heft. As always he was very encouraging; again and again he told me to think about my thing. I was nearing peak exhaustion when the real Phillip interrupted.

“Open your eyes.”

To appease him I peeked for a split second and saw his mouth puckered in a tight ring; he was forcing air in and out of it. I quickly shut my eyes again.

Everything was scattered now so I gave up on my thing and tried to imagine the penis in me was my own version of Phillip’s member and that I was doing the thrusting, into Clee. Once I got a hold on it, the scene felt very real. Like a memory.

“Where did you meet her?” I panted.

“Who?” He paused his exertions for a moment and then continued. “In a doctor’s office. A waiting room.”

“Dr. Broyard.”

“Right. Jens.”

She’s reading a magazine and he sits down. He tells her a bit of trivia about the doctor’s wife, how she’s a famous painter. He doesn’t recognize her until he asks for her name.

“Clee.”

He smiles, putting it all together, looking her up and down. What are the odds of them running into each other like this? High. In this waiting room they are higher than average. That’s why I sent her here. He says he thinks he knows her parents.

“You’re staying with Cheryl Glickman? From their office?”

She winces at my name. I’m the woman who just told her her feet smell; I could still see her enormous smile and how it fell. She wanted me and I gave her a referral. Her leg begins to shake with anger; Phillip puts his big hand on it. She looks up at his gray beard, his tufty eyebrows. “What did you say your name was again?”

Even from her desk Ruth-Anne can see what will happen next. Spermatozoon enters the uterus, fertilizes egg, zygote, blastula, and so forth. Jack’s consciousness begins on this day.

I didn’t make him, but I did each thing right so he would be made.

That’s how much I wanted you.

Looking at the baby monitor, I marveled at the web of people that had spun him into being and proud tears swelled behind my eyelids. My son.

“Everything fine?”

I nodded, tucking my joy under my face. Phillip rolled off of and out of me.

“It’s okay,” he wheezed. “I can’t climax either anymore. And it’s probably safer if I don’t try — although what a way to go, right?” He rubbed my sweaty thigh a few times. “I want you to know I’m not afraid of it, but…” He swallowed. “No, that’s not true. I’m very afraid of it. But I’m not afraid of being afraid.”

I nodded. What were we talking about? Jack rolled over onto his side and then back again.

“I’ve kept my eyes on it this whole time, ever since I was young — so it can’t sneak up on me. I want to know it’s coming, I want to greet it.”

Death is what we were talking about.

“ Oh hello , I’ll say. Do come in. Let me get my things before we go. But instead of getting anything I’ll just let go of everything. Goodbye home, goodbye money, goodbye being a grand and wonderful man. Goodbye Cheryl.”

“Goodbye.”

“And then I’ll go out the door, so to speak.”

I could see the door, me locking it behind him. The bedroom felt strangely cold, almost cryptlike. Jack was on his stomach now.

“I have a will and funeral plan and so forth, but if you don’t mind—”

Suddenly Jack screamed; it blasted from the monitor, ripping through the night.

“—if you don’t mind,” Phillip raised his voice to be heard over the cries, “I’ll tell you some of the details. Have you heard of EcoPods? I’d like to be buried in one of those.”

“I have to—” I pointed at the monitor. Phillip held up one finger.

“They aren’t legal but if you—”

Jack sobbed; I rose to my knees. Phillip looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed. “This is only the second time I’ve ever told anyone this.”

The baby wailed in disbelief. I had never not come when he cried. I leapt out of bed and ran from the room.

HE WAS CUTTING A TOOTH.A bottle didn’t calm him so I walked him around the house. That didn’t work, so I put the carrier on over my nightgown and strapped him in. I slipped a jacket on and crept out to the porch. My shoes were right there, waiting.

The sky seemed to lighten as we walked. But dawn was hours away; it could only be the moon, or my eyes adjusting. Instead of walking in big circles as I usually did, we covered new ground, block by block. On Monday the man would come about the pergola. Phillip and I would have matching electric toothbrushes. The thing with the phone and his saying now would soon be normal. So would watching 60 Minutes . Jack looked straight up, suddenly calm, his eyes on a pair of blinking lights.

“Airplane.” I rubbed his back. “One day you’ll go on an airplane.” It disappeared, out of sight. The world felt warm and enclosed, as if we were safely inside a vast room. He craned his neck this way and that. I stroked his head.

“All the other babies in the world are asleep,” I whispered.

My legs were hungry to move, almost bouncing with each step. I could go forever, my arms wrapped around the only thing that really mattered, a full bottle in one pocket and my wallet in the other. We had everything we needed. How far would I walk? Could I reach that mountain range in the distance? I’d never really noticed the enormous peaks; they seemed to have risen up just now, lit up by the city. I walked for an hour without thinking a single thought, Jack long asleep against my chest. Most homes were completely dark or lit only by a TV. A man put his sprinkler out. Otherwise just cats, everywhere. The mountains stayed the same size for hours, as if I was pushing them ahead of me with each step. Then suddenly they were right there; I was at the foot of one. Would I feel compelled to scale it? It was hard to see the top now; I leaned back, one hand on Jack’s warm bottom. It couldn’t be seen from this close. I turned around and walked home.