Cannibals in Love (24 page)

Bettina invited me to come talk to her about it in New York (at my own expense, of course). I found the whole thing intoxicating and disappointing all at once. New York City was the last place I wanted to go, which hardly mattered, since I had no money anyway.

“Portland!” Bettina bellowed. “You can't get out much farther than that, huh?” Needless to say, I did not mention the babysitting.

*   *   *

At three thirty the school doors flew open and Avi came out, desperately untucking himself and smirking like a criminal. “Let's go to Starbucks. I need a mo-fucking coffee.”

“You're not allowed to drink coffee, dum-dum. We go over this every day,” I said patiently.

“Nuh-uh, no. My mom changed her mind.”

“Stop lying.”

“It's true. She saw some study on
60 Minutes
about how coffee improves your test scores.”

“Uh-huh, right, I saw that study.”

“You did?” he asked with a new kind of smirk.

“Yeah, it said that coffee makes your wiener shrink, too.”

“Shuuut up.”

“It's the truth,” I said, trying to stay humorless.

“Fine, then your wiener is shrinking like crazy. You drink coffee all the time.”

“Dude, did you even
watch
the show?” I asked, with my own smirk now. “That's the
opposite
of what it said! They talked
specifically
about middle schoolers.
You
, buddy.” I tried to offer this with great gravity.

“Yeah, yeah, well, whatever…” Avi said, losing interest completely.

Every day was like this now. I had started taking the last word, just because I could. Because it was easy and it shut him up for a second. It was pathetic, but I was pathetic, too. Believe me, I had no illusions of being a good babysitter, or a role model, or even a good person. But I was competent and I was safe. I wasn't going to let this kid torture any animals or burn anything down on my watch. Of course it would have been nice to help Avi in some perfect world, but I was pretty much phoning it in at this point. I was unabashed about going through the motions. I told Avi he had gotten very boring to me. I told him outright that the only reason I kept showing up was for the money. Dick and Virginia had raised a shitty kid who didn't have any clue how to treat other people. Liberal parenting, I told him, was an exploded myth!

But Avi would just laugh at me. He thought my complaining was hilarious. He barely even listened when I spoke anymore. I was just some furniture to beat up on. More than anything, Avi needed attention. Friendlessness had starved him this way. He needed to show off in my presence, to abuse me. Any calm I could engender, he felt duty-bound to shatter. It was like a little bell going off in the back of his brain. Avi wasn't happy unless he was getting some sort of rise out of me. Finally, I realized that he did think of me as a friend. His only friend. And that just made the whole thing sadder.

Strictly speaking, there was one kid, named Josh, who tolerated Avi pretty well. Josh waited for the #44 bus with us after school, and I understood that he kept coming around for the spectacle as much as anything. Sniggering as Avi singsonged in swear words:
fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck
. Lobbing them at me, the adult. They would laugh and titter as I'd confirm that, yes, I was a gay retard, so what?

But today, Josh was up in my face with his mucus-y braces. I could see that he was reveling with something to say. “I told my mother you hang around with Avi after school.”

“So what?” I said, stepping out into the street to look for our bus.

“So, she says she doesn't trust you. And that I should be careful when I'm around you.”

Avi and Josh burst into a churlish laughter. I turned away, trying not to care. But today was really just the wrong day for this shit.

“Yeah, well, your mom sounds like a real bitch,” I said.

Poor Josh's face dropped. He had no idea what to say to this. Avi was squealing like a pig, pointing at him, as he turned red. No, this did not make me feel any better, but what did I do? I didn't even
know
this lady, and I wasn't gonna take any more of little Joshy's bullshit today. Getting called a pervert? Fuck that.

Unfortunately there was some precedent for this. Avi and I used to walk to the park after school, which sounds perfectly wholesome and good. Except that this park was at the back of an elementary school, and it was swarming with eight-year-olds. Avi would drag us down there just to sit and watch. I'd try to get him to kick the soccer ball with me, but he wouldn't. He was fixated on the hierarchies of the children. I had no idea what to make of this until one day he actually worked his way into their games. I'd never seen Avi this way before, coming alive as he shouted out instructions and remade the rules. He was funny and charming and domineering. These kids treated him like he was some sort of fucking god!

Anyway, I had to tell Avi no way, after that. Mothers were looking at me and starting to whisper. And I couldn't disagree! The whole thing was totally inappropriate. A thirteen-year-old boy and a twenty-five-year-old man cannot sit on a picnic bench watching eight-year-olds play four square. We looked like some kind of professional team of pederasts! Unh-uh. I was sorry for him, but I had to pull the plug on the park.

In some way, I knew I wanted Josh to tell his mother what I'd said, too. She could call Virginia and complain. Nice and easy, tidy, done. Getting fired would be a relief, I thought. Let somebody else take this abuse. But I knew Josh could never say that word in front of his mother. And, by now, I was sorry I had said it; I had no beef with Josh. I actually wished it
were
his mother paying me thirteen dollars an hour to ride the city buses through downtown Portland with him. But Josh didn't need that kind of supervision.

The thing was, I actually showed a lot of restraint around these kids. I wasn't particularly interested in corrupting them in any way. I wasn't there to show off or give anyone a hard time. I just wanted the whole thing to be low-key and uneventful. But the #44 bus was taking forever today. Josh ended up leaving on the #64. Mondays were soccer practice or Tae Kwon Do, or something else. I think it goes without saying that Avi had no sports or activities. Avi had me. And there we were, alone again, waiting for our bus.

I walked out into the street and turned back to find Avi breaking off a tree branch. I watched him slap it against the sidewalk brainlessly, before, BANG, he smacked my bike with it. He was beaming and begging me to react, but I didn't say anything. Avi stabbed the stick through the spokes of my wheel and started rattling them hard. I reached out for him and he flinched, backing away, laughing.

“Cut the shit,” I warned him. “I'm not in the mood today.”

Avi giggled and jabbed me in my side with his stick, hard enough to feel it. I turned and backed him off again. Suddenly this was a game we were playing.

“You touch me with that fucking stick one more time and I'm gonna rip your liver out and eat it, little boy.”

Avi snickered happily. “I thought you were a
vegetarian
?”

“I'm a fucking cannibal,” I said, showing him my teeth.

Avi tittered and backed away again as I looked for our goddamn bus. All of a sudden, WHACK! That little fucker slashed me across the back of the legs. He looked at me with a wolfish grin on his face, like he could hardly believe his own gall. I almost lost it, backing him up and ripping the stick out of his hands, as he begged for mercy.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

I cocked the whip back, ready to slash him in two. Avi flinched, and I launched the stick over his head into the woods.

“There. Now fucking stop it. Just stand still and don't touch anything. I'm not kidding.”

Avi loved it when I got surly. He knew that he was winning and he'd start giggling uncontrollably. I glowered at him as he drifted back to the tree.

“Don't even think about it. I'll leave you here in a heartbeat.”

Avi's eyes got big and he begged for me to go. “
Please
…”

“No,” I said. “As long as it's making you miserable, I'll stay.” Avi smiled, and I smiled back, watching him pull down the next branch. “Don't do it, dum-dum. Use your brain.”

But Avi did it, and the new stick was longer, too. He was dizzy with its power. Jabbing it at me theatrically, like a fencer. I stood my ground and made a show of not flinching. I was cold and unimpressed.

Boom! He jabbed it right past my head, just missing. I batted at the stick wildly, looking like a fool. And suddenly I was furious all over again. Avi loved it, shuffling backward. I stared daggers into him as he giggled at me. This was the closest I had ever come to hopping on my bike and just abandoning him.

Avi wasn't stopping, either. There was a kind of crazed chortle in his throat as he danced around. And before I even realized it, he lunged and stabbed me in the face! I pulled my hand up to my cheek reflexively, checking for blood. We looked at each other then, stunned. I didn't even think, I just took two giant steps forward and kicked my thirteen-year-old ward in his bony ass as hard as I could. A kick that was four months in the making if it was a day! And it felt fucking great.

Avi went flying, but he didn't fall. He looked back at me with his mouth hanging open, stupefied. I turned away angrily, embarrassed. I could barely process how enraged this whole situation had made me.

I watched as Avi threw away the stick and turned to me, unsure.

“Did that hurt?” I asked him.

“No,” he said uncertainly, and we didn't say anything after that.

We waited for the #44 bus in silence. I saw Avi touch the back of his leg and I was ashamed of myself. What kind of monster does a thing like this? Right here in front of the school and everyone? It was probably caught on camera, for all I knew. And what if it left a bruise? What if Avi showed it to Dick and Virginia and those rich, liberal fucks called the police on me? I could already see my picture in the newspaper: “Babysitter Kicks Kid.” How do you live a thing like that down?

And yet, I still wasn't ready to apologize to Avi for anything. And now the #44 was finally coming, too. I put my bike onto the front rack and paid our fares, and we sat down together like always. I tried to think of something placating to say. Something that could save me and reset everything. But before I could think of anything, Avi turned to me with his mischievous smile intact.

“You know what I think?”

“What?” I asked, nervous about where he was going with this.

“I think we should get out at the Starbucks. I think we need some coffees.”

“Coffees?”

“Yeah, a bunch of coffees,” he said. “Shit-tons of coffees.”

“All right.” I nodded uncertainly, wishing I would've thought to buy him off all along. “I don't care. It's your parents' money.”

“Damn straight it is,” he said. This kind of irreverence was like scratching a dog's belly for Avi. He was beaming at me again. “No, no, no. Let's get pizza instead. I just changed my mind.”

“You're too fat for pizza,” I said blankly.

“Ha! Look at
you
! You're like ten times fatter than me.”

“No, I'm not. I'm a vegetarian, remember? That means I'm skinny.”

“You're the fattest vegetarian I ever saw!”

“Your mother's a fat vegetarian.”

“
Your
mother's a fat vegetarian,” he said incredulously.

“Good one.” I nodded, and Avi erupted into squeals again. “Aw, shit, there goes the Starbucks!” I said, pointing over his shoulder. Avi gasped as he turned.

“Sike! C'mon. You're not even trying.”

“Your mother's not even trying!” Avi bellowed, laughing again. The #44 shot down through the bus mall and wheeled around a corner. Avi pulled on the cord like he wanted to snap it off. The bell dinged and the bus decelerated toward the curb.

“Wait for me while I lock my bike up,” I ordered him.

“No way,” he shouted, as he pushed out the side doors.

Avi skittered blindly into the street, between parked cars, desperately trying to join the crowd of walkers. He was pretending he was on his own out here. Pretending he was set loose in the city. Pretending he was free.

 

AIDS

Abundance is the mother of neurosis. I would repeat this to myself to prove that I was fine, that I was not crazy. I was young and fully alive. But it was no use. On some level I knew that I was dying, and that there was nothing I could do to stop it or slow it down. It was already happening. It was done. This was a fact.

The door was locked, that was the first surprise. I was looking up into an eyeball camera, not sure what I was supposed to do.

“Appointment or walk-in?” the camera said.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Appointment or walk-in?” the woman's voice asked patiently.

“Walk-in, I guess,” I said, louder than I wanted to. The door buzzed, and I pushed it open into a small waiting room. It was then that I realized how they could've kept me out there indefinitely. This nice lady asking open-ended questions while she called the cops, on the other line, to come check out this jittery character trying to gain access to the Planned Parenthood. Abundance is the mother of neurosis, I told myself again.

The friendly voice inside the machine put her hand up and smiled at me. I crossed the room, looking only at her. It struck me for the first time that I might see someone here I knew. What then? Was the protocol to talk or to ignore each other?

I told the woman my name in a soft voice. She nodded and ripped off a comically small square of paper, sliding it across the counter.

“If you like, you can write down the reason you've come in today. If you're more comfortable that way.”