David Vann - Dirt

The Cars were still crooning, but it was too sad now. He couldn’t bear it. So he clicked the tape recorder off, and now he could hear dishes in the kitchen.

He lay on his bed, thinking perhaps this was the prophet he was meant to be, the prophet who would free everyone from religion and send them back to bed for more sex. The prophet who would expose the sham of transcendence. But he knew this was only the boner thinking. It was still there, with no signs of fading. A sad reminder of what Galen had just had and would never have again.

What surprised him most was that he really did love her. She was the most unlikable person, but he loved her anyway. He didn’t understand how that had happened. His first love, no longer a virgin. But why couldn’t he have fallen in love with someone who wasn’t his cousin, or someone who was nice to him? And what was it about sex that increased his love for her? He felt so vulnerable now, his chakras all wide open, exposed. The thought that he would never be with her like that again felt so heavy he began to cry. He buried his face in his pillow and sobbed as quietly as he could, and he felt how unfair the world is to those who truly love.

The chicken and dumplings. Finally arrived. The stew pot on the stove, lid open, and Galen loved the fluffy white dumplings floating on the surface like clouds. Pure and white, browned along their edges and peaks. He lifted one carefully with the serving spoon onto his plate. The underside slick with gravy. The entire stew a thick gravy with chicken and potatoes, carrots and onions, and he heaped his plate. This is what he would have instead of Jennifer. Food.

He couldn’t look at Jennifer, couldn’t look at his mother. All of them crammed at that small yellow table, and he kept his eyes on his food.

You’ve done yourself proud, Mom, Galen’s mother said. But there was no real cheer behind her voice.

I don’t know, his grandmother said. Something doesn’t seem quite right. But I can’t remember, of course, what it should be. I can’t remember anything. Sometimes I wish I could just die. I hate not remembering anything.

Mom, Galen’s mother said. Don’t say that.

Yeah, Grandma, Galen said. It tastes great. It’s just like before. And this was true. He was savoring the rich gravy and chicken, the onions and potatoes turned almost to mush after stewing all day.

I have this awful feeling about something, but I don’t even know what it’s about.

Everything’s fine, Mom.

It’s like I can’t remember what I have to fear. Like some mouse wandering around forgetting there’s a cat but feeling afraid of the cat anyway.

That would be Suzie-Q, Helen said. Suzie-Q is the cat.

Don’t start, Galen’s mother said.

Suzie-Q is taking you back to the rest home after this. Your health is fine, and you could live at home, but Suzie-Q doesn’t want you at home. She wants you in the rest home so she can take your money.

Galen’s mother slumped and looked down at her food.

Is that true?

No, Mom, it’s not true. Helen hates me, and she hates you, so she tells lies.

Helen doesn’t hate me. She’s my daughter. Why are you saying ugly things like that?

Galen’s mother put both hands over her face, elbows on the table, blocking out the world. Mom, I can’t do this, she said. Helen is the enemy. I’m not the enemy.

Look at that, Mom, Helen said. Calling me the enemy. Who calls her own sister the enemy? Is that how family treat each other?

She’s right, Suzie-Q. Apologize to your sister right now.

Galen’s mother’s face hidden in her hands, her back and chest caving between her shoulders.

You apologize right this instant, Suzie-Q!

Galen wanted to help his mother, but he didn’t know how. His grandmother was angry now, and she thought she was on solid ground. She thought she knew what the problem was, and maybe that was better than not knowing.

She already said she was sorry, Galen said.

What?

She already said she was sorry, but you keep asking her to apologize, so now she’s crying.

Oh, fuck me, Helen said. You can’t switch it around that easily. Suzie-Q needs to apologize to me, Mom. She hasn’t said she’s sorry.

Watch your language, Helen.

Fuck you, Mom. If your memory really is this bad, then it won’t matter what I say now. I can say something else tomorrow.

Helen!

Helen what? What are you going to do, Mom? You’ve already destroyed my life, and I’ve already taken your money now, so I don’t need you anymore. You’re the worst mother the world has ever seen. And do you know why that is?

Stop it, Helen, Galen’s mother said. You won’t treat her this way.

Focus, Mom. Do you know why it is that you’re the worst mother ever?

How can you talk to me like this? Aren’t you my daughter?

That’s the thing. I am your daughter, and you didn’t protect me. That’s why you’re the worst mother ever. Because I’m your daughter and you didn’t do anything to protect me.

You’re the worst grandmother, too, Jennifer piped in. You’re in love with Galen because he has a dick, but you don’t even know I’m here.

Galen’s grandmother was shaking her head. Her eyes were wet. No, she said. No.

This is that cat you were afraid of, Mom, Helen said. The cat is the truth. The truth about you and who you are.

We all want you to die, Jennifer said in a voice that sounded loving and caring, which made it all the more frightening. She reached out and touched her grandmother’s hand. We’re all waiting for you to die.

Galen’s grandmother jerked back as if bitten. She was on her feet, her chair fallen backward onto the floor. She was holding the hand that Jennifer had touched, holding it close against her, protectively. I have to get away from you, she said. I have to get away from all of you.

She opened the back door and ran out. She was fast.

Galen’s mother rose to follow, but Helen grabbed her arm and yanked her down onto the floor. No you don’t, she said. Galen’s mother tried to crawl, but Helen dove onto her and flattened her. No Suzie-Q to the rescue, Helen said. That’s never happening again.

Galen couldn’t believe any of this was happening. It was like some ridiculous Big Time Wrestling match, and he was supposed to tag-team. He tried to get to his mother, but Jennifer punched him hard in the side of the head.

Fuck, he said. That hurts. He turned away, and she punched him in the back.

Stop it, he said, and he tried to get away from her. He was backing toward the front door, his hands out, trying to protect, but she was slapping them away. How could you do that? he asked. I love you.

Jennifer laughed. Right there in front of him, only an hour or two after they had made love. She laughed, and she was enjoying this, enjoyed hitting him.

I don’t understand you, he said.

Oh, look at you, she said. How cute. She was talking to him as if he were a child or a small dog, her eyebrows way up and head tilted. This is how we show love in this family. Welcome to the family. Then she punched him in the neck.

Galen escaped out the front door and tried to breathe. He was staggering around trying to suck for air, and his throat felt crushed. He collapsed against the railing and just held on, and then he got a breath. The air rushed in, painful. He wasn’t going to die.

He needed to find his grandmother. She could be wandering around anywhere, and if she went too far, she’d forget which way she’d come. And it was cold.

Around the deck and past the shed, up through trees into the meadow. Moonlight a bright opaque white on every surface, the world turned into marble, become a solid. The cold air slipping. Grandma, he called, but his voice was weak, his throat damaged.