Joshua Mohr - Some Things That Meant the World to Me

I sipped again, too big this time, and got the feeling like I might lose it.

"I'm assuming your silence is the byproduct of testy communications during the course of the party."

"Not now"

"I'll change the subject. How was the old lady's husband? You bond?"

I swigged the whiskey again. "I hate him."

"Why?"

"She doesn't deserve it."

He grabbed the whiskey and took a sip, saying, "Deserves it? Who deserves it?"

The next morning, I didn't know what to do with Madeline's dead body. I didn't want to pitch her in my trash. I put her in a paper bag and went out onto Valencia, still looking war torn, construction equipment everywhere. I figured I'd lay her to rest in the dumpster with the trapdoor. Yeah, it was still technically the garbage, but it was the garbage where little-Rhonda had taken me to the wonderful puddles.

But I didn't make it to the dumpster, because as I stood at a corner, I heard Handa say "Big Boy!" while she waved at me from across the street, across the battlefield of backhoes and forklifts. A crane lowered another new pipe into a trench.

My good hand held the bag, so I waved back at her with my bent arm.

She crossed the street toward me, through the chaos, past a lone worker shoveling dirt in another trench; all I could see of the person was the hardhat. It could have been little-Rhonda.

I tried not to panic, as Handa walked toward me, knowing I still stunk like Madeline's innards.

"Aren't you up early?" she said.

"Been helping a friend work in his attic. I'm sweaty. Sorry if I smell bad."

"Lucky for you, Valencia always stinks so your secret is safe. Can you believe how long the construction is taking?"

"I can't."

"It amazes me how long it takes them to fix things. I mean, what are they doing down there anyway?"

My good hand, still clutching Madeline, sputtered a low buzz, a noise like a didgeridoo. "Where's Hector?"

She scoffed. "Who cares?"

"What happened?"

"It's for the best." She smiled again. "I deserve someone who will treat me better. Someone nice, like you."

Me, Rhonda, she needed someone nice like me. Last time I'd seen her, I'd accidentally yelled, but she didn't seem to remember, and if she did, she didn't care. Unlike Karla, Handa must have been willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, even if they made a mistake. One of the backhoes backed up, making a beeping noise every second, and I thought it was my heart.

"Nice like me?" I said.

"Like you."

"You'd go out with someone like me?"

"Are you nice?"

I nodded.

She leaned her head onto my shoulder and said, "I'd go out with someone like you tomorrow night." I couldn't believe it. She'd never acted interested in me before. Or I hadn't noticed her flirting. "But you're right," she said, smiling, moving her head off of my shoulder, "you do smell bad."

"Sorry."

"I don't care. Just shower before our big date."

We came to the next corner, and I stared at the garbage can. I knew I should throw Madeline away, but it felt like a betrayal. My good hand turned up its electricity, jolts rollicking. I had to do it, knew I had to.

I put her in the garbage. I stood in front of another apartment building that was being converted into overpriced condos; I stood on another sidewalk-stenciling that said, IVho needs affordable housing anynvay? Displacing the poor is better than cocaine!

"You want to go out tomorrow night?" I asked Handa.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said.

I ran straight to old lady Rhonda's apartment to tell her about my date with Handa, but when she answered the door, she had a split lip and a bruise on her cheek.

"Don't say it," she said. Her gray hair was down, tousled, sticking every direction.

"He hit you?"

"We had a big fight. I was drunk. We were screaming."

"He hit you?"

"Don't worry about me, Crash Man. I can take care of myself."

I stood there, not knowing what to say next. I wanted to walk in old lady Rhonda's apartment and stay forever, protecting her.

Was I crying?

"It's okay, baby," she said, stepping out into the hallway and hugging me.

"I don't want him to hurt you anymore."

And I wanted to tell her about Vern and Madeline. I wanted to tell her about Letch. But most of all I wanted to stay in her arms.

"Please, baby," she said, and I said, "Why do they do it?" and she said, "Do what?" and I said, "Hit us."

We stood, swaying.

"You didn't come up here for this," she said. "What can I do for you?"

I honestly couldn't remember why I'd walked up there. Seeing her face all smashed had erased everything from my mind except protecting her. Finally, I remembered Handa and said, "I asked her."

"I thought she was out of town"

"Got back this morning."

"When are you going out?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow! Congratulations. Let me make you some breakfast."

"Let me cook you breakfast," I said. "Since you've had such a rough time."

"You'd do that?"

I figured after making her throw me a phony birthday part; maybe I'd fake a Mother's Day for her. "Would you like breakfast in bed?"

Her eyes welled up. "Oh, Crash Man, you better not go giving an old woman a sense of hope."

Right eye. I'd like to hear more about the house, he said. I didn't know what else to tell him. We'd been talking about the same things for days, months, years. I said, The house was evil. Evil, he asked. Cursed, I said. Left eye. Angel-Hair sat in front of me. His feet were flat on the floor. His left shoe had a huge scuff across its toe. Right shoe tapped twice. Tell me about your friend, he said. Skyler, I asked. Skyler, he said. His office smelled like tuna fish. Again. Still. Did Skyler see the house stretch, he said. It didn't move whenever anyone was in there besides me, my mom, and Letch. That's why the house is evil, because it keeps secrets, I said. Houses can't keep secrets, he said. AngelHair's eyes popped back and forth, focusing on my right eye then my left eye. His foot tapped a few more times. Letch would say, Is your boyfriend Sklyer coming over today. I'd say, He's not my boyfriend. He'd say, Why don't you ever bring any girls home. And Skyler didn't like coming to my house anyway. Letch made him nervous. And he knew my mom would take off for days on end. Letch would say, What time is your date with Skyler. He'd laugh and say, Are you the pitcher or the catcher. Right eye. Angel-Hair's foot still tapping. He said, So the house looked normal whenever Skyler was there. I knew what he meant. He meant the house wasn't stretched out, wasn't full of the desert. But Skyler never thought our house was normal. Skyler thought Letch was a creep. His eyes are like an eel's, Skyler said. And Letch would ask me, Have you and your boyfriend gone all the way yet. Who, I'd say. Don't be a smart ass, he'd say. Angel-Hair tapped his other foot, with the scuffed shoe. He looked down at it and frowned. Left eye. I said, The house looked normal when Skyler was there. Why, Angel-Hair said and licked his finger and leaned over and rubbed the scuff. It disappeared. He tapped that foot three times. He said, Houses aren't cursed or evil. I said, But all the bad stuff happened in there. He said, But the house didn't do the bad stuff. I didn't answer him. Wondering if every little kid who lived there would be shattered like me. Why don't you blame Letch, Angel-Hair said. Right eye. One time, Skyler was supposed to spend the night, but my mom and Letch finished a whole box of tcha-bliss and Letch was hollering and Skyler said his stomach hurt, called his mom, rode his bike home. I looked at Angel-Hair's shoe again. The scuff was drying and coming back. Angel-Hair said, I asked why you don't blame Letch. Left eye. My mom had this weird way of talking after she'd drank a lot of tcha-bliss, her words stretching into humungous vowels. Another time, Skyler and I played in my room, and Letch came in and said, What are you up to in here, ladies. We didn't say anything. He said, Ladies, do you need some birth control pills. What's birth control pills, I said. Skyler shrugged his shoulders. Letch said, Faggots. Angel-Hair's shoe without the scuff tapped five times. Right eye. Tell me why you don't blame Letch, Angel-Hair asked. How do you know I don't blame Letch, I said. You always talk about the house, he said. I blame both of them, I said. You can't blame the house, he said. But I could. I could blame anything. Anyone. I wasn't through with that house yet and some day I'd make sure no other kid got shattered in there. Hey, ladies, Letch said. What time is the wet T-shirt contest, he asked. I have to go, Skyler said. Don't go, I said. So long, farewell, Letch said to him. What if someone had hidden a can of tuna fish in Angel-Hair's office days, months, years earlier, and the doctor didn't smell it because he was used to it, and why was it called tuna fish anyway. Why wasn't it just called tuna. There were lots of fish. Salmon, trout, halibut, sturgeon. No one said trout fish. Or sturgeon fish. Left eye. He licked his finger again, leaned down, rubbed the scuff. Why can't I blame the house, I said. Do you know what blame is, he said. Blame is placing responsibility on someone, he said. Can't you blame something, I said. No, he said. If I got struck by lightning, I said, can't I blame it. Blame the lightning, he asked. I nodded. Both of his feet tapped twice. No, he said. But I knew I could. I could blame anything. Another time, Letch said, Skyler, you and Rhonda make a lovely couple. Skyler dropped his eyes to the floor, didn't say anything. I dropped my eyes to the floor, too. I said, Where's mom. Letch said, Search me. Angel-Hair said, Blame was created by humans, for humans. Blame only has power if the person knows what he or she did was wrong. Right eye. I had him. I knew that the house knew what it did was wrong. That was the only reason it looked normal whenever Skyler came over or one of Letch's drinking buddies was there. One time Letch and his friend were in the kitchen and I walked in and they stared at me so I said, Hey, ladies, who's pitching and who's catching. Letch's friend laughed and said, Kid's got a big mouth. Letch said, You better get out of here, Rhonda. The house only looked normal because his friend was there, but I knew as soon as he left, things would warp again.