Percival Everett - Suder

Jincy is very upset, almost crying. “I hope Rennie doesn’t get shot.”

We walk on through the darkness, swinging our lanterns and whistling for Renoir. Finally we find him behind a split-level and he’s in a duck pond.

“Are you sure it’s Rennie?”

I call him and Jincy calls him, but he won’t come. I end up stepping into the water and leading him out by one of his ears. Then we’re walking through backyards and dogs are barking at us and an occasional light snaps on. Jincy is riding on top of Renoir and we make our way back to the road. A car comes up behind us and Jincy is becoming hysterical. It turns out to be Beckwith.

Beckwith stops his car and he walks around to me and he looks at Renoir. “Loxodonta africana,” he says. He looks at me. “You’ve got a Loxodonta africana.”

“Elephant.”

“What are you doing with a Loxodonta africana?”

But I’m just walking away and leading Renoir home, muttering, “Elephant.”

Beckwith gets into his car and drives away and he’s at the cabin waiting when we arrive. “Now, tell me what you’re doing with a Loxodonta africana.”

“He’s a pet,” I tell him.

Beckwith walks around the elephant, examining him closely. “He’s a fine one.”

Jincy and I are paying Beckwith little attention and I walk into the house and lower the wall while Jincy waits with Renoir.

“You keep him inside?” Beckwith asks as Jincy walks the animal over the wall.

Beckwith is standing outside and I say goodnight and pull up the wall.

The next night, I stepped out into the backyard and found Django gone. He had been untied. I ran up to my room and yelled at Martin, “Why did you untie the dog?!”

“I didn’t.”

I believed him and I ran back outside. “Djanjo!” I called. “Django!”

Then Martin stepped outside. “You’d better find him before bang! bang!” He held his hands up like he was holding a rifle.

“Django!” I walked next door into Mr. Simpson’s yard. The dog wasn’t there. At least he wasn’t in Mr. Simpson’s garden. He wasn’t to be found about the neighborhood. Finally I was at the pond and Django was in it. “Come here,” I called. But the dog wouldn’t come. I sat on the grass for a time while Django swam around. The moon was full, offering some light. Then I stepped into the pond after the dog. The water was almost to my chest. I pulled the dog out. I don’t know what came over me, but I took a shortcut through Mr. Simpson’s backyard. Mr. Simpson’s kitchen light came on and I fell to the ground. I held Django’s mouth closed. Someone stepped up to the screen door and then moved away. The light went off and I ran the rest of the way. I tied Django up and walked into the house.

“You’re wet,” Daddy said, standing in the kitchen with a glass of iced tea in his hand.

“I had to go into the pond for Django.”

He sipped his tea and pulled back the curtain to look into the yard. “Your mother’s coming right along.” He sipped his tea. “She might just do it.” He looked at me. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?”

“Daddy, why are you running with Ma?”

“Let’s say I don’t want her to run alone.”

The next morning Jincy and Renoir are behind me and we’re walking through the woods. The sun is up and bright.

“Shake that salty bacon,” Jincy says.

And I look back. “What are you saying?”

“I said, shake that salty bacon.” And she points at my backside.

I get real embarrassed and stop. “You walk in front of me.”

“Why? I like watching it.”

“Just go on.”

Jincy walks on in front of me and I’m watching the sky and thinking about flying.

“You still gonna fly?” Jincy asks without looking back.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think you should. I don’t want you to.”

I don’t say anything.

“Why?”

“I want to be free,” I tell her.

“Free?”

“Uh-huh.”

We walk on in silence and when we get near the lake Jincy drops to her hands and knees and starts raking at the ground with her fingers.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Digging worms,” she says, not stopping.

“Why?”

Still digging: “For you to eat. You want to be free, don’t you?”

I stand over her for a minute and then I’m on my knees, helping her.

She hands me a worm. “Eat it.”

I take it and I tilt my head back and let it slide down my throat and it wiggles as it goes down. Jincy is smiling and crying at the same time. I pull her to me and hug her and she cries harder.

Naomi and I were sitting beneath the big tree in the old school yard. It was muggy and there were bad-looking storm clouds in the distance. Across the yard, sitting under a basketball goal, was Virgil Wallace. Virgil was pulling on himself.

“Look at that waterhead over there.” Naomi pointed at Virgil. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s-” I didn’t know if I should tell her.

“What?”

“He’s pulling on himself.” She had a questioning expression. “You know.” I moved my hand up and down over my middle.

She giggled. Then she looked up into the tree. “I saw your mother and father last night.”

I didn’t say anything.

“They were running. Is your daddy going crazy, too?”

“No,” I snapped. I knew what question was coming. “He’s just trying to help Ma.”

“What’s all the running for?”

“My mother wants to run around Fayetteville.”

Naomi laughed.

“It’s not funny!” I shouted. “Why are you laughing? Your daddy uses caskets over and over again and cuts off dead people’s hair.”

She stopped laughing. “He does not.”

“He does. I found dirt on his caskets.”

Naomi was silent. She looked down at her knees. “He does not,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at me. “Do you like me?”

“I told you, yes.”

“I like you, too.” And she reached for my hand and grabbed my little finger and bent it back. It hurt. “Take it back,” she said, applying pressure. “Say it isn’t so. Say my daddy doesn’t do that.”

“Okay, okay,” I said. I was in a great deal of pain. “He doesn’t use caskets over.”

“Or cut off dead people’s hair?”

“Or cut off dead people’s hair.”

She gave my finger one last twist and I fell over, my head landing in her lap. I was looking up at her. She lowered her head and placed her lips against mine. My eyes were wide open and I could see her closed eyes and her smooth skin. Her tongue was darting in and out of my mouth. I didn’t kiss back — I didn’t know how — but I didn’t resist. Then a shadow fell over my face. I thought it might be clouds, but there was something odd. So, I pushed Naomi’s face away and I looked up and saw Virgil Wallace. He was standing over us, his penis in his hand. Naomi screamed and she fell back against the tree when she tried to get up. I got up and pulled her into standing. We ran.

Even with the three baths a day that Renoir gets from Jincy, the cabin smells. Renoir ain’t house-trained and I decide to go into town for some newspapers. There are several newspaper-vending machines in Parkdale and I start off at one end of town emptying all the papers into the truck. Then at the fourth machine I put my dime in and I look beside me and there’s skinny Sheriff Prager. I open the machine and pull out one paper and smile at him.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Nice day.” He’s looking up at the sunny sky.

“Uh-huh.”

“How’re things?” He pushes his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Just fine, just fine.”

“Sure is nice weather.”