Milosz (4 page)

‘What codswallop. Let's have a cuppa.' She turns and climbs down the stairs with surprising speed. ‘Will you join us, Milo?'

Wallace looks imploringly at Milo and mouths, ‘Please!'

‘Not tonight, thank you, Vera,' Milo says. ‘There are some digestives in a tin beside the tea things.'

‘Oh, how lovely,' Vera exudes. ‘Just what the doctor ordered.'

Wallace pushes Milo into the bedroom. ‘I'm not going to make it through this.'

‘Sure you will.'

Wallace hasn't seen his mother since she returned to her native English burb years ago. He comes up with annual excuses not to visit her. She lives with her sisters who, according to Wallace, are all a hundred and never shut up.

‘She wants to meet my girlfriend,' Wallace moans.

‘You don't have one.'

‘Like I don't know that.'

‘Just be honest with her.'

‘Are you fucking
nuts
? Can you set me up with somebody?'

‘What?'

‘You know people, like, actresses and stuff. I'll pay her. She just has to act nice and be polite.'

‘Oh, come on, Wallace.'

‘Waal-leee … ? Your tea's getting cold. Shall I make us a sanny?'

Wallace presses his hands together in a pleading gesture. ‘I'll pay you a bonus.'

‘Waal-leee … ?'

The bullish Wallace morphs into a small boy with downcast eyes and a timorous gait. ‘Coming, Ma,' he calls back in a singsong voice Milo has never heard before.

In the morning, Milo, ducking behind parked cars, follows Tanis and Robert­son to school. A year ago Robertson allowed Tanis to put two fingers on his shoulder as they crossed the street. Now, almost her height, he maintains a distance between them. He says he doesn't need her to walk him to school, but she insists because it is his last year at the neighbourhood school. Next year he will have to take a bus. She has admitted to Milo that she can't imagine putting Robertson on a bus, watching the doors close behind him, trying to see through the windows as he searches for a seat. ‘It'll be rush hour,' she said. ‘He's bound to freak.' They have even considered buying a used car, having sold the Subaru last year to pay off debts.

Mother and son part half a block from the school so the kids in the yard won't see her. Tanis keeps waving but Robertson doesn't look back. Milo hides behind some recycling bins as Tanis retraces her steps. She stares hard at the pavement as she walks. Once she has turned the corner, Milo ambles towards the school, pulling his baseball cap low over his forehead. Posses of children part as Robertson makes his way through the yard. Once his back is turned they make faces or pinch their noses. Robertson stops beside the basketball net. Boys ignore him, jumping up and around him. Robertson says something Milo can't hear above the racket in the yard. A boy in a hoodie shoves him and flips him the finger before resuming dribbling the ball. A stout man with wiry hair, presumably a teacher, approaches Robertson and leads him into the school. The bell rings and the kids begin to line up outside the doors. The boy in the hoodie continues to shoot hoops until the stout man returns. ‘Billy,' he says sharply, ‘now.' Billy misses one more shot before slouching towards the entrance. The man pulls off the boy's hood, revealing a shock of red hair.

Now Milo knows who Billy is.

•••

He puts on his suit, the one he wears for corporate-type auditions, hoping to blend in at reception. He carries a busted cell he used as a prop in
Waiting for Godot
. He received good notices for that performance, although he didn't really understand the play. The director told him he was an ‘instinctive actor' and that he shouldn't get ‘hung up on the words.' This made sense to Milo because, in university, he played George in
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
– another play he didn't really understand – and didn't get hung up on the words but channelled the rage he felt towards Gus into George and let it spew all over Martha. After the show he felt free, cleansed, ready to party. In the morning seething resentments returned, and he couldn't wait to get back on stage to spew all over Martha again.

He invited Gus to the opening night of
Waiting for Godot
, even though he knew his father would be bored out of his mind. The next day, when Milo showed the old man the good reviews, Gus shrugged and ate another sausage.

While waiting for the receptionist to notice him, Milo pretends to text on the busted cell. She takes five hundred more calls before looking at him. ‘Are you waiting for someone?' she inquires. She must be in her forties but has a mouth full of braces.

‘Christopher Wedderspoon, please.'

‘Is he expecting you?'

‘Actually, no, I'm just passing through. My plane was delayed and I thought I'd take the opportunity to go over a portfolio with him.' Milo holds up the briefcase he uses for corporate-type auditions.

‘Your name, please?'

‘Milo Krupi.'

She presses buttons and speaks into her headset. ‘Milo Crappy's here to go over a portfolio. He doesn't have an appointment.' She pauses, squinting at Milo, then repeats, ‘Milo Crappy.'

‘Krupi,' Milo interjects. ‘We used to be neighbours.'

‘He says you used to be neighbours.' Because she's staring at him while speaking into the headset Milo assumes she's addressing him.

‘That's right,' he says, ‘we
were
neighbours. Actually, I still live beside his wife.'

‘Mr. Wedderspoon will be with you shortly. Have a seat.'

‘Thank you.' Does this mean he will he be forced to ‘have it out' with Christopher right here, amidst the teal furnishings of the waiting room? Sitting on a stuffed chair, he can't help but notice the receptionist looking at his shoes. They're Gus's shoes, a little small and in need of polish. Gus took great pride in polishing his shoes. They are the wrong colour for the suit. He pretends to text again while rehearsing in his head the heart-rending speech that will convince Christopher to return home.

hristopher slumps on a stool at the Quick Fixins counter with his head in his hands. It would have been preferable to have this heart-to-heart in a private office with a window overlooking the city. Milo could have paced as he explained the gravity of his mission, gazing sorrowfully out the window as he searched for the right words. But Christopher appears to have come down in the world and has only a cubicle. Milo isn't sure what his job is. Christopher used to manage other people's money, or lose it, which may be why he is now in a cubicle.

‘I will always support them,' he says.

‘No one doubts that.'

‘You swear she doesn't know you're here?'

‘Scout's honour.' Christopher was a scout leader so Milo feels this oath is appropriate. Scouts had been an escape for Christopher as a kid and he'd hoped it would be the same for Robertson. But Robertson never moved with the crowd, instead lingered over anything that caught his interest.

‘She thinks he can be normal,' Christopher says. ‘I know he can't.'

‘Don't you think normal is overrated? I mean, who wants to be normal? Robertson has a concentration, an intensity of thought, a single-mindedness, a ... ' The words Milo so carefully chose to describe the wonder of Robertson escape him. He is
drying
, as they say in the theatre, and there is no prompter to feed him his line. ‘What I mean is,' he stammers, ‘he has a tenacity, a … a directness. He can't lie. How many people do you know who can't lie? He's incapable of dissembling.'
Dissembling
is a word he'd thought would impress, but Christopher remains inert. ‘Robertson is unique,' Milo sums up. ‘No one thinks like he does. I think he's quite noble.'

‘He can't control himself. And he's getting bigger. I'm scared he's going to kill her.'

‘Shouldn't you be there to prevent that from happening?'

‘She won't let me. She thinks she can handle him. She thinks I put his back up.'

‘Maybe you do. I find it's best to give him space when he fixates on ­something.'

‘So he grows up expecting people to get out of the way when it suits him? What kind of an adult will that make? Nobody will be able to stand him.'

Milo shifts a stir stick on the counter. ‘Maybe he'll find a niche. There's an autistic woman who designs machinery for slaughterhouses. She's number one in her field.'

‘Yes, we've all heard about the ones who have “special gifts.” Robertson has no special gifts. It's not like in the movies. Most of them aren't math geniuses, most of them stay angry in institutions, banging their heads into padded walls.' Christopher rubs his face in the same manner that Tanis does.

‘
I
think he has special gifts,' Milo says.

‘Like what?'

‘His relationships with animals.'

‘Try looking at his report card, Milo. He's a C average. This is no wonder kid here.'

‘All I'm saying is, don't give up on him. You'll lose him and you'll lose yourself.' This sounds like something Pablo would say. ‘Forgive him, Christopher. We all have to forgive.'

‘Forgive him for what?'

Milo isn't sure. He is acting badly again. ‘A friend of mine believes that life's challenges are lessons.'

‘Really. Well, I'm tired of learning the same lessons.'

‘My friend says that we learn the lessons more deeply the second time around.'

‘Is your friend graduating any time soon?'

‘Not in this life.'

‘Ah.'

Christopher stares at the
Enjoy Our Comfort Food, You Know You Want To!!!
sign beside the coffee maker.

‘They both need you,' Milo says, feeling the words clumsy on his tongue. ‘I know it's easy for me to talk … '

‘Yes, it is easy for you to talk. You don't live with it every hour of every day.' He bunches up his napkin and pushes it into his empty cup, then sits motionless. ‘I love those two more than my life. I would give my life for them, would gladly die for them. Unfortunately that wouldn't help.' He slides off the stool without looking at Milo. ‘Thanks for dropping by. I appreciate your concern.' As he speeds past, he sniffles and wipes his eyes. Milo envies him for knowing how to cry.

‘Maria threw me out,' Pablo says, beached on the couch.

‘Why?'

‘She wants me to be a Catholic.'

Vera mashes potatoes with verve. Milo hasn't seen the masher in years. Mrs. Cauldershot used it to pulverize potatoes, squash, turnips and parsnips. Milo's mouth would fill with the formless sludge and he would consider spitting it back at her but instead forced it down – it was easiest to just obey.

‘Don't you look nice, Milo,' Vera says. ‘All dressed up like a banker. What's the occasion?'

‘Do you hear what I'm telling you?' Pablo wails. ‘Maria wants me to believe in God Almighty.'

‘That's just plain unreasonable,' Vera says. ‘If she loves you, she must respect your beliefs.'

‘Where's Wallace?' Milo asks.

‘He just got in from the office and went to freshen up a bit.'

‘The office?'

‘She gave me back the ring,' Pablo whimpers, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes. ‘Can you believe that? She gave me back the
ring
.'

‘She'll come round,' Vera says, mashing. ‘You wait and see. Fancy some bangers, Milo? We'll fry you up a couple. Wally adores bangers and mash.'

‘What's she want from me?' Pablo cries. ‘I
love
her.'

‘Leave her alone for a bit,' Vera advises. ‘Nothing makes a girl's heart grow fonder than a bit of rejection.'

Sprawled on Milo's bed, Wallace looks fearful.

‘What are you doing in here, Wallace?'

‘She won't look for me here.'

‘You can't stay in my room. This is
my
room. You don't pay for this room.'

‘She's frying, isn't she?'

‘Yes. Bangers and mash. Your favourite.'

‘That kind of food kills you. If you don't stop her she'll just … she'll just … you have no idea.'

‘Wallace, you're a grown man, buck up.'

‘She thinks I have a job.'

‘You do have a job.'

‘She thinks I have a respectable job.'

‘Doing what?'

‘Accounting.'

‘What's wrong with junk removal?'

‘Are you fucking
nuts
? Don't blow my cover. Pablo's in on it. I'm paying him a bonus to shut his trap. Same goes for you.'

‘How many bonuses are you paying me? Are you keeping an account of my bonuses?'

‘Very funny.'

‘I need my room now, Wallace.'

‘Waal-leee … ?'

Milo holds the door open. ‘Out.'

Burping bangers and mash, he presses his ear against the wall. He knows they're home because the lights are on, but he hears nothing, not even the television.

‘Have you got rats?' Vera asks.

‘No.'

‘What are you listening for then?'

‘Oh. Just my neighbours.'

‘Spying on them, are you?'

‘I just want to make sure they're all right.'

‘Might be better to pop round for a visit. Have you got a Hoover?'

‘A what?'

‘She wants to vacuum,' Wallace moans, climbing the stairs like a dying man.

‘Oh, that's not necessary,' Milo says.

‘It needs doing,' Vera says.

‘I'll get to it.'

‘That's what Wally's witless dingbat of a father used to say.'

‘Ma, can you just leave it alone?'

‘It's not good for your asthma, Wally.'

‘You have asthma?' Milo asks.

‘His father smoked,' Vera says.

Wallace drags the vacuum cleaner out of the hall closet. ‘Here,' he grumbles. Milo marvels at his restraint regarding the F word.

‘Jolly good. Now everyone clear out.'

The three of them seek refuge in the living room, sitting with bowls, spooning Vera's instant pudding into their mouths. Pablo repeatedly checks his cell for texts from Maria. ‘Women,' he sighs.

Wallace whispers, ‘So, Milo, when are you going to set me up with a ­girlfriend?'

‘I'm not. That is so … '

‘Retarded,' Pablo offers.

‘Look who's talking about retarded,' Wallace says.

‘Get your own girlfriend,' Pablo says.

‘Looks like you just lost a girlfriend, asswipe.'

The vacuum switches on again. They can hear her banging it into ­furniture.

‘She'll want to do the windows next,' Wallace warns.

‘You should be nicer to her, Wally,' Pablo says.

‘Don't call me Wally.'

‘You're lucky you have a nice mother. I saw this movie about a guy who hated his mother and then she died and he was really broke up about it, couldn't do nothing, eat, sleep, go to work, nothing. He had, like, a total nervous breakdown.'

Wallace turns on the
TV
and grimaces at players slamming a puck around.

‘So then the mother comes back as a ghost,' Pablo continues. ‘At first the guy's, like, totally freaked out and everything.'

The vacuum shuts off again and Milo thinks he can hear Robertson on the trampoline.

‘But then the guy's like,
coño
, I can say things to my mother I never could when she was alive … '

‘Like “get the fuck out of my face,”' Wallace says.

From the kitchen window, Milo sees Robertson jumping on the trampoline, flapping his arms. He can do this for hour-long stretches, going into a kind of trance. Tanis says it releases tension.

‘After the guy gets used to his mother being a ghost,' Pablo elaborates, ‘he asks her things he couldn't ask her when she was alive because he hated her so much.' He points his spoon at Wallace. ‘Hate blinds you, Wallace. Don't hate your mother.' The vacuum starts up again.

‘How does it end?' Milo asks.

‘She explains everything. Like why she had to be so mean. She was trying to protect him. Your mother is just trying to protect you from the dust bunnies, Wally.'

‘Don't fucking call me that.'

‘Does the ghost just vanish again?' Milo asks.

‘
Sí
. She has to go back to the other side. It's really sad because the son tries to hug her for the first time in his adult life but he can't because she's a ghost, right? So he tells her he loves her and they blow kisses. It made me cry.'

‘Everything makes you fucking cry,' Wallace says.

The vacuum shuts off again. ‘Waal-lee … ? Can you move the beds for me, love?'