William Vollmann - The Royal Family

Tyler began very slowly to clean his spectacles. — I’ll certainly visit, he said, if I’m invited.

And what about you, Mom? said John smoothly. Irene loves you, too. I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you found time to help her.

I certainly shall. When Irene wakes up I must find out if she needs anything. Has she had a good appetite?

She’s going to eat me into the poorhouse, laughed John. Tyler thought it a brutal laugh.

The fog’s coming in again, Tyler said, gazing out the window.

Well, we were lucky all day with that wonderful sunshine, weren’t we? their mother said. Mugsy certainly enjoyed her walk. Henry, you need a haircut.

A cut or just a trim?

Oh, I’d say you’ve really let it go. What do you think, John?

I’d say he could use a shave, too.

All right, said Tyler a little irritably. I’ll go and get a haircut right now.

Get a shave, too, his brother said.

Yes, I heard the first time. Congratulations on the baby.

Is this the first you’ve heard about it?

What do you mean, John?

Oh, I just thought maybe Irene might have told you.

Why would she tell me before her own husband? Tyler said challengingly.

No one replied for a moment.

Irene has actually been looking a bit tired lately, their mother put in.

Oh, you think so? said John. I thought she was starting to fill out.

But she’s not so far along, is she? But it is true that the first two or three months are the worst. Later she’ll be more tired, of course, but the changes in the first few months are the most drastic. At least that was my experience with both of you.

I guess your experience beats ours in that department, said Tyler, going out the door.

My, but he looked sour! their mother said. I wonder if he’s feeling well?

He’s ridiculous.

John, you don’t have anything against your brother, do you?

And if I did, what would that be?

That’s not an answer, John.

Well, maybe it’s a question with no answer.

Every question has an answer, his mother asserted with considerable conviction.

Really, Mom? Then tell me this. Where do we come from and where are we going? Gauguin said that. I still have that book of reproductions you gave me. Where does my baby come from, and what will he become?

Yes, John, I know Gauguin said that and painted it, said his mother, rocking. He was a very, very unhappy man.

John tapped his foot.

Oh, dear. Is he jealous of you, sweetheart?

It’s nothing. We get along fine. Don’t you worry about it, Mom, replied the son in what he considered to be a brusquely well-meaning tone, but which came out a little more peremptory than that. Mrs. Tyler, absently rubbing together her arthritic fingers, gazed into his face with large eyes.

That fog’s pretty solid now, he said.

Have you decided on a name?

Eric.

And if it’s a girl?

Suzanne. But it won’t be a girl.

So you think it’s a boy. Have you gotten the ultrasound done?

Irene didn’t want to. It’s not up to me. Nothing’s up to me.

Nothing’s up to you? said Irene in a quiet fury as she came through the door. Mom, I want you to listen to that. This is how he always is with me. This is how your son talks to me, and I can’t bear it anymore!

Irene, Irene, Irene! said her mother-in-law, with a smile of loving exasperation. I was just telling John that the first two or three months are the worst. I recall that I got very moody as well…

I’m sorry, Mom, whispered Irene, suddenly very frightened. I’m sorry, John.

Oh, forget it, said John. Why don’t you sit down, Irene? You want an ice tea?

I want a beer, Irene thought to herself. I want to get drunk. — Yes, please, she said aloud. Can I pour you one, Mom?

The pitcher’s in that little fridge, said Mrs. Tyler. No, thank you, Irene. But it’s very sweet of you to ask. Maybe John would like a refill.

John said nothing. His eyes were pale blue like the Bay on a half-cloudy day. Irene brought the pitcher out and silently filled his glass, careful not to add any more ice cubes, which he detested. Then she poured herself one.

Where’s Mugsy? she said.

Mugsy’s taking a little nap, said her mother-in-law, with the usual smile of instant inanity that came whenever that creature was mentioned. Suddenly, awaking from her loving trance, she said: Irene, is it true that Koreans eat dogs?

Yes, Mom, in Korea. But I never have. My father’s side of the family really likes them, though. You want to hear a funny story, Mom? When we first moved to this country, my second uncle and auntie went to the supermarket, and they couldn’t read English very well, so when they got to the aisle where the pet stuff is and they saw all those bags of dog food, you know, with the different pictures of dogs on the different brands, they thought it was different kinds of dog meat, and they said: Wow, what a great country America is; it has everything!

Oh, my God, said Mrs. Tyler.

I’m sorry, Mom. Did I say anything wrong? I was just trying to—

John grinned. — You never told me that story, Irene. That’s pretty good.

No, I—

I’ll tell that one at work. Singer in particular will be amused. I’m always making him laugh. He keeps asking where I get so many good dirty jokes. You know where I get them? From the Internet.

Oh, please don’t tell that story at work, Irene said. I’d be embarrassed if other people knew. It makes my family sound so fresh off the boat. That’s why it’s kind of funny, I guess…

No one will think any the less of you if John tells that story, Irene, pronounced Mrs. Tyler decisively. It’s a sweet story.

Thank you, Mom.

Hey, Irene, said her husband.

What?

Your hair looks ratty. Lots of split ends. When are you going to fix it?

I have an appointment with Jordan for next Saturday, Irene said. Can you wait that long, or does it bother you so much to look at me?

How much does Jordan cost me?

I pay for Jordan, not you.

I said, how much does he cost?

Forty-five.

Forty-five dollars! For what? Does that include his tip?

Excuse me, said Irene, but it was you who started complaining about how I look, not me. You heard it all, Mom. What do you think?

Oh, I don’t want to get involved, said Mrs. Tyler. But I do think a woman should try to please her husband.

Okay, Mom, Irene said. Well, maybe you and your son can find a cheap haircutting place that will please your son, and I’ll cancel my appointment with Jordan and go wherever you say. Is that what you want me to do?

Don’t get ants in your pants, said John. Just calm down. If you want to go to Jordan you can go to Jordan. I can afford it.

I want a beer, said Irene.

But you’re pregnant! said Mrs. Tyler, shocked.

I’m going for a walk, said Irene. Do you want me to take Mugsy?

Sure, take Mugsy, said John, with evident relief. Mugsy, like the weather, was always a safe change of topic, perhaps even the shortest path out of the family labyrinth.

Thank you, Irene, said Mrs. Tyler. Mugsy will be thrilled to get another walk. You’re such a thoughtful girl.

Thanks for saying so, Mom. Where’s her leash?

It’s in the car.

Can I bring you back anything, Mom?

Not a thing, thank you.

Mom would like some low-fat yogurt, John said. Wouldn’t you, Mom?

Why, John, what a good idea. Irene, darling, would you mind?

No problem, said Irene.

And what about you, John? said Mrs. Tyler.

I’m fine. Hurry back, Irene.

Oh, John, said his mother, you never think of yourself.

When they were alone, Mrs. Tyler said: It’s almost as if you want them alone together.