Read In the Land of the Living Online
Authors: Austin Ratner
In the Land of the Living (8 page)
“WHY ARE WE
doing this, again?” Isidore said through the bathroom door.
“Because the baby needs people to love it.”
Even at full term, and huge, in fact looking like she was about to give birth to an elephant, she hid her body functions from him, but he couldn’t hide his.
“That’s something you should know about me by now,” he said through the door.
“What?”
“My guts. I have a special brand of
kishkes
made unpopular by the Jews of eastern Poland.”
“I see. And Hungarian Jews have better stomachs?”
“I don’t think you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into, here. You marry an Auberon and you marry his ass.… Put it this way. There would never be such a book, because it would be extremely boring, but if there were an Auberon family history, it would be titled
Inherit the Wind
. You get my drift? This is something you should know.”
And he proved his point with a long, low, tuba-like sound. “If you think it’s horrible to hear that, you should try producing it.”
“Gee, you’re a hopeless romantic, Izzy,” she said.
When he had completed the act and stepped out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, he said, “Actually, I am,” and he twisted at a cowlick on top of his head. The Friday-morning light lit up the wet grapes on the table. They were soaking through the pages of the
Cleveland Press
.
“Let’s get it over with,” he said. He squashed a handful of grapes in his mouth and spat out a stem.
And they went back to the neighborhood of early-morning garbage trucks, his father, the green bicycle, blistering white snow, and dry, guttered glaciers that lay there in the roads unconquered and gray well into the spring. It had risen above freezing and was cool to warmish in the bright sun, but not warm enough to melt much. Any patches of exposed grass lay flat, as if the grass had memorized the weight of the snow so well that it could never stand again.
“I see why the Jews came here from northeastern Poland,” he said.
“Why?” she said.
“They must have taken one look at all this Baltic slush and felt right at home.” And before opening the car door, he said, “Like I was saying, Laura, you ask very little. And you’ll get it.”
“You may be surprised,” she said.
His mother’s brother, Mo, looked guilty as hell and fumbled around with a bottle of gin. “Can I get you some, Isidore?” he said, before any introductions had been made, and he didn’t offer anything to Laura, not even a glass of water.
Isidore introduced Laura, who stood there with her huge belly waiting for a chance to be nice to someone, and it was Isidore who asked if she wanted anything. Aunt Mara did not get up.
“Why didn’t you call?” Aunt Mara said. “He’s been back in Cleveland for years and he doesn’t call,” she said to an old lady who was sitting on the sofa and neither gave herself a name nor was given one. It might have been Tante Faige, who was apparently not dead yet.
Laura said to Aunt Mara, “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Alman.”
Mara said, “Isidore, you should ask your father if he plans on repaying Mo.” She leaned nearer to the old lady sitting next to her and explained, “His father, Ezer, ruined Sophia’s stomach, he gave her the cancer, and
we
paid her radiation treatments. This, after I went to Poland myself to get her and we paid her passage to America.”
Isidore put the glass of gin against his face and heard the ice cubes start to melt and settle in the glass.
“Sit down, Laura,” Isidore said, “here.” He tossed a pillow aside.
Aunt Mara watched the pillow as if she were concerned for its well-being.
Nobody said anything for a very long time. The Cleveland Browns were on the radio and they all sat and listened to the game.
“You follow football?” Isidore said.
“Certainly,” Mo said, with a fairly strong Yiddish-Polish accent.
“Who are these guys? I’ve never heard of any of them,” Isidore said. “Doug Dieken? Who the hell is that?”
“He hasn’t had much time for sports in the last few years,” Laura said.
“I know this much,” Isidore said to Laura. “The Browns win the division every year but they can’t win in the play-offs anymore. Do you follow this lousy team, Mo? Do you, Laura?”
“No,” Laura said. “My father was named for a third baseman for the Indians, though.”
“Is that so?” Uncle Mo said. “Here, have some more, Isidore.” He reached out with a gin bottle in one hand and a bottle of seltzer water in the other. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Just the drink, please,” Isidore said, and Mo poured with one trembling hand and then with the other. “I didn’t know Jews drank gin,” Isidore said.
“You do, apparently,” Mo said.
“At a family gathering,” Isidore said, “I’d drink turpentine.”
“So you started working?” Uncle Mo said.
Voiking
.
“Yes.”
“Where does he work?” Aunt Mara said.
“At the hospital!” Uncle Mo said.
“What kind of work do you do at the hospital?” Aunt Mara said.
Isidore stared at Aunt Mara, then he said sarcastically, “I’m a parking attendant.”
The next morning the phone rang at eight o’clock. Isidore turned over and the box spring creaked.
“Go away!” Isidore said from under a pillow.
It was Laura’s boss.
“She’s at the school,” Laura said. “She always fills out these forms from the state in triplicate. Nobody does that.”
“Well, you’re not going. It’s Sunday.”
“I don’t know.” Laura sat up, sighed, and tugged her nightgown down over her belly. “It’s not worth fighting with her. I’m very good at keeping people happy, because I just give them what they want. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Ah!” he said, and sat up. “I’m afraid we have an appointment in the country that can’t wait.” He threw the covers off the bed and pressed his ear to her belly. “Hello in there! Can you hear me? This is your daddy speaking. We’re going to the country today.” He went into the bathroom and opened the faucet in the stained yellow bathtub.
When they were out near Chagrin Falls, he rolled down the car window and leaned his head out. “Do you smell that?” he said. “It smells like rotting leaves! Old stone fences! Horses! Barns!”
THE QUEEN BORE
her a child and named him Leodegrance after her father.
She strained and sweated in a vale of hot tears that weird December day of seventy degrees to push the baby through the wet well of pussy willows. He was a week late and they had to cut him out finally so his head was perfect, with black hair shining like a sea mink. And Mrs. Neuwalder said he looked like Mao Tse-tung and the queen didn’t like that because Mao Tse-tung was as ugly as a sink full of dirty dishes. Mrs. Neuwalder was mad, perhaps, because her daddy had once left her and now he’d done it again and all the babies with their mommies and daddies could go to hell.
And Isidore and Laura took him home and sang to him, and twilight came down soft as humid August tears in eclipse of winter.
Isidore sang the boy a sad song in the tiny closet room,
“Oyfn Pripitchik,”
though he’d be damned if he wouldn’t be the best father on the face of the earth atwirl in its silent morning terrorglory.
In the hearth burns a little flame.…
What insanity, a Yiddish lullaby: to teach infants in their cribs to learn by rote the Hebrew alphabet of tears, to inoculate their babies against the plague of years to come, or to inoculate them against joy before they had a chance to suck their mamas’ breasts. He was sure it was his mother who had sung it to him, but then it seemed, in some dim and primitive remembrance, that it might have been his father.
How’s your mother? Went over the falls in a barrel. Yours?
A baby was as light as a bird. Its head smelled warm and good like a peach, like milk.
By the time Leo could walk, Isidore wondered if it had been a year or ten, or only an instant finely dissected since the child was born.
“Look at those eyelashes!” the women said. “No fair!” they said.
Leo’s skin was as soft as the belly of a cat or as a lilac silk blouse.
Isidore’s own father was an evil old Saturn and a cannibal, and he’d never get his red claws near that soft skin. What was wrong with that lunatic old Saturn? It was easy to love a son.
“What will you be?” he asked the child.
The child looked back at him studiously.
“I think you will be great. I know you will be great.”
They sat on the rug.
There was a future there, but they didn’t know what it was—a future more exquisite and subtle, in fact, than a mere galaxy of dead rocks and stars. They would just have to wait and find out.
“We’ll see, Leo!”
“Light!” the boy said.
Isidore carried Leo on his back to the edge of the little woods by the pond, where wind had raked half the water into slow little waves. The other half of the water lay still and clear as a sheet of acetate, and ducks slept on the glass above muddy tin cans.
“‘We have met the enemy and he is us,’” Isidore said, and released a smoke ring into the air. “Not you, Leo. Pogo meant humanity, but not you. You are free of sin.”
“Don’t smoke near a baby, you fool!” a woman said.
Isidore couldn’t form another smoke ring, so he blew out a great cloud of pipe smoke. “Get lost, witch,” he whispered. When the lady was gone, he said, “Can you breathe okay back there?”
But he could see in his peripheral vision that Leo was totally oblivious to the smoke and to the lady in the stupid hat. Leo grabbed two tiny fistfuls of his daddy’s hair.
“Careful, there, cowboy!” Isidore said, reaching back with his pipe in his hand and then remembering the pipe.
Before the sun had set, you could see a star or planet over the pond and in it, and the moon, and the silhouettes of the trees. It was as if he, Isidore, or he, Leo, or both, had called stars, planets, moon, and trees into being by a magic wish. They had found a lump of gold there: the first sight of dark trees waving before the moon and stars, of stars written on the heavens like a poem.
Isidore did not fill out the forms of the blue baby book, but instead wrote on the last blank page and inside back cover, leaving himself just the two pages to fill as if he secretly knew they would not have long.
12/73 Behaved beautifully at Dr.’s for 2 yr check-up—listened to preparation, said “I’m scared” but let pediatrician examine him etc. Opened mouth on request for oral exam. 1 and 2/74 Says “It’s too dangerous” to certain prohibited activities. Now tells of need to make poop or pee pee and gets both in potty regularly. Accidents are rare. Says “Daddy’s doctor, I’m big boy.” Says “Mommy’s big, I’m just yittle, Daddy’s biggest.” Noticing hairs on my arms and legs—wary of it. Does not like my developing beard—tries to avoid kissing me directly—says “beard scratches.” Creating imaginative stories from pictures and objects. Handling separations and fears better—pulls self together after initial tears and says “I feel better.” Reassures self that we “come right back.” Now can identify objects himself as “just part of bed; just pretend; just a friend” to reassure self against fears. Starting to draw recognizable objects (barely). Has been drawing faces for months. Criticizes own drawings—“not good owl; not good plane.” Whispers and says “Ssh, be quiet” with finger over lips. Tells time—it’s “free clocks” all day. Asks me each morning “Daddy go work?” If yes, he is visibly disappointed and withdraws. Responds with glee at my returns—running to me saying “Daddy, Daddy” over and over. When I tap on his back, he says “Don’t knock me, Dad.” Very sensitive to others’ feelings—if you look sad etc. he says “You’re mad” or “You’re sad,” “Don’t cry, Dad; feel better in your eyes.” Says “I need a hug; lemme give a kiss.” Memory fantastic—occasionally reminisces about things that went on months ago. Imitates well—makes sounds of many animals—e.g. squeak-squeak (mouse), hoo (owl), hello (parrot = carrot), caw (crow), roar (lion, tiger—we told him he was named Leo for lion, roared like he was a lion), growl (bear—high-pitch growl for “yittle bear” which he thought of by himself). Brought me imaginary “candy turtles” to feed me yesterday. Often says Jenny and Harvey and Grammy are in planes he sees in books—says they are going “zoom” from “runway” coming to see him. To my declaring my mistake in putting “jammies” on backwards, he said “not on purpose.” Gets control of tears quickly now, rubbing tears away and saying “I feel better in my eyes” as he struggles to maintain control. In response to my continuing to sing after his demanding I stop, he said “I mean it!” in exact imitation of my words and tone to him on other occasions. Interprets table’s being set for evening company as “Happy Birthday” someone. Takes any opportunity to sing Happy Birthday song (“to Leo”) and claps afterward in quietly pleased glee. In response to being told it was the wind whistling in his bedroom windows (which frightened him), he said, “it’s not wind, it’s snake in the window.” Described a mouse being chased by a cat in a book as “cat frightening dat mouse.” Knows meaning of number two, full and empty, close and far, and identifies “engine” and “caboose” (“parts of train”). Calls eyebrows “eyebrowns.” Opens his mouth and shows you how “Doctor looks in your FROPE (throat).” Able to thumb through pages of books in perusal for items or subjects he likes (like “lotsa cars”). After tripping on shoelace, said, “Oops, Daddy, better tie my shoe!” While thinking of things to draw with me he said, “I got a idea.” Of a bump that continued to hurt, he said to Laura, “Dat’s a problem.” Poses for camera, smiling sl. artificially on command. Blows kisses, hugs and kisses friends spontaneously now. Says “bless you” and “gesundheit” to sneezes. On 2/10/74 handed me an old letter and said “sign your name.” 2/16/74 learned to use drinking straw. Referred to self as “a little guy.” Copies pediatrician in playing doctor—examines your mouth (“open mouth”), says “you’re fine,” offers a lollipop. Says “I’m de doctor”; “I’m big boy doctor, you’re daddy doctor.” Takes his toy toolbox and says “I’m going to work”—returns in a few seconds, running in with arms wide, hugging us and saying “I missed you, good to see you. I wove you. I come back, see?” Pretends to exercise on living room floor, demanding our participation and saying “like Grammy.” Puts a plastic cup over one eye, squints with the other and says “smile for the camera.” His imitations show amazing attention to detail and nuance. 3/4/74—says “I’m so pretty and proud;” “I keep my pants dry and warm and comfy;” told me while sitting astride me on the floor, “I’m imagining I’m riding a horse.” 4/74 Says “Mommy bought me a wonderful present.” Frequently ends requests with “or sumptin”—e.g. “Daddy, give me a ride, or sumptin.” In car says “Oh God, de traffic.” Makes faces to scare me. Says “I fink we going outside” as a hint; or “Maybe we’ll go for a walk or pway in puddles, or sumptin.” Says words with great animation and inflection. Using complex sentences and questions, with many appropriate “ands” and “buts.” Realized he couldn’t see his eyebrows on 4/18/74 and thought he’d lost them—cried till we showed him he could feel them with his fingers; his joy was immense. In response to being told we’d have a baby someday by Laura said, “You will change the diapers, and I will go to work, but don’t worry, I will come home for lunch.” Said to a neighbor girl, “Larissa did you know I can go to school and I can read?” 4/29/74 —Leo asked Laura, “Mommy, is there a baby growing inside of you?” [Yes.] “In your tummy?” [Yes.] “I got one too” he said, pointing to his tummy. Says “see dat” finally as he explains things to you. Appropriately identifies TV characters as “wonewy (lonely).” Tells us when we or others (even on TV) are “upset”—wants to know “what’s matter.” Says of scary TV scenes, “It will frighten you away.” 5/7/74—Told me this a.m. that “I dreamed a man was scaring me.” Says “be gentle with me.” Refers to “our mommy” (mine and his). Almost able to ride his new (used) tricycle. Said “Mommy you’re special.” Learned to put his hands in his pockets; stands around like one of the Dead End Kids now. Sits between and hugs both of us together around the neck, showing great pleasure to have us close in a trio. Making real buildings with blocks—builds carefully and when very tall, squeals to us with glee and pride “Isn’t it beau’ful?” Says of many things “It’s so funny.” Said on my accidentally bumping him over “dat rockled me over.” 5/24/74 “I used to be a doctor; now I’m a cowboy!” In response to request for a kiss said, “I’m too busy now; I’m too tired.” 6/74 Said, “I want to be a fire engine when I grow up, and help people.” Rode tricycle well and alone for first time. Says “upside up” as opposite of upside down. Told me “Trees are made of wood.” Says “hi, lady” to Laura and says “Hiya, Dad, how ya doin’?” to me. Calls either of us “young man.” In tub said, “I found the ocean.” 7/74 Put his hand on Laura’s belly and said, “Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t hurt the baby growing in your breast.” Knows whole alphabet and counts to 20. Calls me “sir” jokingly on occasion and “Daddo” (like Leo), and says, “Is he, Izzy?” Told Laura that “whoopsie daisies are flowers.” Laura had hair in pigtails after swimming. Leo said, “Oh, Mommy, you look like a girl.” Told us a few days later, “Mommy got her hair wet and then looked like a girl.” Was using 2 hands as puppets, with one saying “I will help you up the hill, Daddy.” When he saw I was puzzled he showed me “this is hand Daddy and this is hand Leo.” Says “a monster makes me mad at John (next door 2 yr old).” 8/74 Now says L’s correctly (instead of like W’s) and relishes repeating L-words correctly. Says “Sorry you yelled at me, Dad”—a left-handed apology. Describes dreams now, usually regarding witches and “gophs” (ghosts). If our hair is wet or rearranged slightly differently he says “That’s not you” and gets upset until correction is under way. Then says, “Now it’s you!” After months of resisting my kissing him due to beard or mustache (12/73—8/74) his first comment to me when I shaved my beard was, “Now you can kiss me.”
Doc had died before he could write a letter and so had not been able to help at NIH, but Isidore won the fellowship anyway, without any help. That summer of 1974, when they were living in Rockville, Maryland, in a duplex they rented for $145 a month, Isidore drove Leo into Washington, DC.
They went together to the Lincoln Memorial and stood before the giant statue of Abraham Lincoln.
“That’s a big man,” Leo said.
“Yes, it is.”
“Is that you?” Leo said.
“That’s Abraham Lincoln.”
“Chase me, Daddy,” Leo said. “I’m faster than you.”
“Okay, but let’s put your coat on.”
“No, I don’t think I need my coat,” Leo said.
Leo probably didn’t need a coat. But that was not the point. Isidore said, “Get your coat on, Leo.”
“No, I don’t have to.”
“Leo, just put it on.”
Leo started to spin around and sing.
Isidore said, “Get your coat on, Leo, or I’ll kill you.”
“Don’t kill me, Daddy,” Leo said. “Please, don’t kill me.”
The sun was blue.
The statue was bright.
When they swam together at the public pool, Isidore said to jump, and Leo ran and flung himself at Isidore without pause, without ever knowing that there was such a thing as gravity.
A world had opened like the world of the matchbooks in the glass urn.
They made still another world, and they thought she’d be Sarah if she was a she, or Max if he was a he, because Laura didn’t like Martin. And doctors rubbed Laura’s belly at the Bethesda Naval Hospital. And what was bad was done. What was good was yet to come. The house of Auberon rebuilt by a Jack Tar with garbage gloves and a stethoscope.
When they got back to the house, Isidore put on a record,
The Roar of the Greasepaint—The Smell of the Crowd.
And Leo danced to “A Wonderful Day Like Today” on the living room carpet that was painted light green with sun.
They should have known it, because the sun winked twice and became neeve. The lords of chaos had come. And not long after that, it was Halloween.
The jacks scared all their mummies and yawned with toothless smiles all strung with mushpearls. The odor was cold stars and swampy pumpkin as the evening went afire with fright flames. Plastic junkwalkers in fake teeth began to scowl the dark dogwalks. A skeleton mooned the children with his ischial tuberosities and a Franken lowered his flattop. On batblack night of All Hallows’ Grieve the green Frankencorpses yowled for candy and fought to be at the darkness door like mutant dreams fighting to be in the sleeping breast of Mary Shelley, dreams of her mother that died in the doo dah tree. Double bubble boil your ruoyliobelbbubelbuod. Roy Leo: Bell Bubble Bood. Say it again but add more blood. Blood of infant babies, a Maxwell broken forth from the life maw of the seawater womb, when the dead with their crazy legs and their bad breath, and their squid black eyes like nevi looking blindly, shew themselves up from the grave, and a door where the candy yowlers fought to be in green plastic masks and fake teeth.