Milosz (9 page)

‘Unless they feed her to their lizards. People buy boxes of mice to feed their lizards.'

‘The hamster is in my basement,' Milo declares, without looking at Tanis who will despise him for his weakness in the face of righteousness. Robertson blinks repeatedly as he computes this new information.

‘I took Puffy,' Milo explains, ‘because I wanted you to stop worrying about him.'

‘Her.'

‘Her. But she has escaped and you are the only man who can rescue her.'

Robertson and Sal charge to Milo's. Tanis remains disconcertingly still.

‘You shouldn't have done that,' she says and walks away. He listens to the soft flapping of her flip-flops before hurrying to his computer to find out exactly what an aneurysm is, and if he could have caused it.
An aneurysm is a pre-existing defect in an arterial wall that, over time, balloons and thins out. Eventually the ballooned vessel can burst, causing bleeding in the brain and loss of consciousness.

A pre-existing defect causing loss of conciousness. Does that mean the aneurysm made Billy crumple, not Milo?
There can be a genetic link. Family members are often screened after a case is found. Triggers for the rupture can be random. Stress and raised blood pressure may contribute. An aneurysm is usually but not always lethal, depending on its location, the extent of the bleeding and how quickly care can be delivered.

Stress and raised blood pressure may contribute. Like being grabbed by a man in a Spider-Man mask and hauled behind a dumpster? Or not.

ilo sits on the bench and waits alongside the other naughty boys who pick their noses and swing their legs. The principal's secretary is on the phone enthusing about her slow cooker. ‘I just put a bunch of stuff in the pot and go to work and when I come back it's cooked. I'm not kidding. You have to fry the meat a bit first though, right, but then my neighbour told me to just add the flour, like, just dump it on top.'

Milo stands again, hoping to get her attention.

‘That's what
I
thought,' the secretary says, ‘but my neighbour said just dump it on top. I'm not kidding. She just throws stuff in and comes back eight hours later.'

‘Excuse me,' Milo interjects. ‘Do you have any idea when Mr. Gedge will be in?'

‘Do you have an appointment?'

‘No.'

‘Well, then I can't help you, sir.'

‘But these boys are waiting for him. How long do they usually have to wait?'

‘We don't mind waiting,' one of the boys offers.

‘It's way better than being in class,' adds the other. They're both wearing T-shirts emblazoned with superheroes.

‘May I ask what this is regarding?' the secretary inquires.

‘It's about the missing hamster.'

‘What about it?'

‘I know where it is.'

‘Did you bring it with you?'

‘No.'

She narrows her eyes for several seconds while flicking her pen. ‘One moment.' She dials what Milo suspects is Gedge's cell. ‘Your name, please?'

‘Milo Krupi.'

‘A Mr. Crappy's here,' she says. ‘He says he knows where the hamster is.' She pauses, still eyeing Milo. ‘No, he did not bring it with him. He's waiting to see you.' She removes one of her shoes and shakes something out of it. ‘Very good, sir.' She hangs up. ‘Mr. Gedge will be here shortly. Take a seat.'

How absurd that Milo, a grown man, should feel his bowels loosening while waiting for the principal. Mr. Grocholsky, in this very same office, unjustly reprimanded him for talking in class. It wasn't Milo's fault that Dean Blinky and Horace Blunt, gabbing on either side of him, were exchanging hockey cards. Just as it's not his fault that Billy the Bully had a ballooning vessel in his head that burst. Tanis is unjustly reprimanding Milo. He tries hard to believe this as he stares at dirty linoleum between his feet.

The stout, wiry-haired man who retrieved Robertson from the yard appears and speaks gruffly to the naughty boys, concluding with, ‘I don't want to see you here again.' Off they schlump to be enlightened. ‘Mr. Crappy?'

‘Yes. Actually, it's Krupi.'

‘Come into my office.'

The decor has changed. Pictures of sailboats adorn the walls.

‘What's this about the hamster?' Gedge asks, hands on hips, clearly not a man to mince words.

‘I took it.'

‘Or did your child take it? It's perfectly natural to want to protect your child.'

‘I don't have a child. I took it.'

Gedge, no doubt accustomed to listening to excuses, waits for one.

‘I took it because hamsters are nocturnal. It's very stressful for them to be exposed to daylight when they should be sleeping. On Google it says the rate of hamster death is higher in classrooms because the hamsters are constantly exposed to noise, artificial light and handling.'

Gedge sits at his desk, taking a deep breath. While waiting for his exhalation, Milo has visions of last night's carnage. When Tanis insisted the hamster had to be returned, it was as though she'd plunged a knife into Robertson.

‘If you're not a parent,' Gedge says, ‘how did you know about the hamster?'

‘A friend of mine is in the class.'

‘And who might that be?'

‘I'd rather not say.' He must protect Robertson from further persecution. The head-banging did not stop until four a.m.

‘It wouldn't be Robertson Wedderspoon by any chance?'

‘Robertson who?'

Gedge takes another deep breath. ‘Did it occur to you, Mr. Krupi, that in rescuing the hamster for your friend, you caused the other children considerable distress?'

‘That did occur to me, yes. For this reason I was hoping you might allow me the opportunity to explain my actions to them. And, of course, I'd like to reimburse the school for the price of the cage and Puffy.'

‘I take it you don't intend to return the hamster?'

‘I'd rather not. My friend is very attached to it. I was hoping that, when I tell the children about the trauma and shortened life spans of hamsters in classrooms, they might not want Puffy.'

Gedge places his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands under his chin. ‘In all my years, Mr. Krupi, I have never encountered such a situation.'

‘It is unusual.'

‘I have half a mind to report you to the police.'

‘I completely understand that, sir, and if, after I have spoken with the ­children, you still wish to press charges I will not resist arrest.'

These are not the upturned faces of the innocent. With brand names stretched across their apparel they are the pawns of the consumer age. Already the judgmental expressions of their parents shadow their faces. These are Robertson's foes, and Milo has no choice but to plead for mercy. ‘They get tumours,' he explains, ‘from the stress caused by lack of sleep and handling.'

‘You mean they get cancer?' a boy in a Roots Athletics hoodie asks.

‘That is correct. And the tumours grow and make it difficult for them to swallow. They stop eating and eventually die.'

A girl in an American Apparel tank top says, ‘Mine got tumours on his testicles. They got so big he couldn't walk.' The other consumer pawns titter.

‘It wasn't in a classroom though,' the boy in the hoodie, a future litigator, points out. ‘Which means they die anyway, even if they're not in a classroom. You've got no proof they die sooner in a classroom.'

‘As I said, it's all online.'

‘Don't believe everything you read online,' the litigator scoffs.

‘Try to imagine,' Milo says, ‘living in a small cage with nothing but wood shavings and dried seeds for company. Imagine it's bedtime and you're exhausted but you can't turn the light out and you hear loud voices and chairs scraping and doors slamming. Imagine you're finally about to doze off when a
giant hand
opens the cage and grabs you.' Milo raises his hands, spreading his fingers to make them giant-like. ‘Suddenly you're hoisted into the air and being passed around. Each time you try to escape, the
giant hands
grip you tighter,' he tightens his fists, ‘so hard you can't breathe and you feel your life being squeezed out of you.' Some of the children's mouths gape. ‘Imagine you're blindfolded, because hamsters can't see in daylight due to their large pupils. So there you are, a blinded hostage, suffocating, lost in space with no knowledge of when this torture will end. You wait for the giants to kill you, to squash you between their massive palms … '

‘I think you've made your point, Mr. Krupi,' Mrs. Bulgobin interjects.

‘And then what happens?' Milo persists. ‘You get dropped back in the cage with nothing but wood shavings and dried seeds for company. And as much as you hate the loud, bright, noisy cage, you prefer it to being in the giants' grip. You live in fear of the giant hands reaching in and grabbing you again and again, squeezing the breath out of you … '

‘That's enough, Mr. Krupi.'

‘And they do,' Milo says, ‘day in and day out, they
snatch
you from the cage.'

‘I'm calling Mr. Gedge,' Bulgobin says.

‘Let's take a vote,' Milo says. ‘Who thinks Puffy should be forced to live caged in the classroom forever?'

The litigator raises his hand.

‘That's one vote for jailing Puffy for life,' Milo says. ‘Hands up for those who think Puffy should be free?'

Many hands shoot up.

‘Case closed,' Milo says. ‘I've made a donation to your school so you can either buy a snake or a lizard, or think of something fun to do like have a pizza lunch. Thank you so much for your time and co-­operation.' He thinks he smiles warmly but respectfully at Mrs. Bulgobin before hastily bowing out.

•••

‘We want raw emotion onstage,' Geon Van Der Wyst advises Milo. ‘Don't think
stage
.' He makes air quotes with his fingers when he says
stage
. ‘Forget
stage
. There is no fourth wall. You and the audience are symbiotic. Your emotional reality and their emotional reality are one.'

Milo avoided this kind of touchy-feely bilge when he knew how to act, but now he is desperate for a job and Geon Van Der Wyst is famous for acquiring grant funding for multimedia projects no one ever sees.

‘It's about trust,' Geon emphasizes. ‘No trust, no raw emotion. Remove the barriers and it will come.'

‘Is there a script?' Milo asks.

Geon Van Der Wyst looks wearily at his assistant, an emaciated woman named Hunter.

‘No script,' Hunter says. Her eyes are heavily lined with black pencil.

‘I saw you in
Godot
,' Geon says. ‘I felt you pulling at the restraints.' He mimes pulling at restraints. ‘I believe you have immense power. But you have to trust it.'

Eleven other actors file into the room. Geon claps his hands twice. ‘Friends, we are going to perform a trust exercise, although it is not only about trust, but underlying currents. We must sense these currents, anticipate them as we learn from one another. You follow?' The actors nod, some of them looking malnourished and unwashed. ‘Stand in a circle,' Geon orders.

Milo looks for familiar faces, or at least cute girls.

‘Place your palms together,' Geon orders. ‘Now listen carefully to my instructions. When I say “Begin,” Milo will say “Zip.” As he says “Zip,” he will direct one hand to snap out in the direction of another person. That person will then take Milo's energy and immediately say “Zap.” He or she will then slide their palms together and send the energy in the direction of someone else by snapping out their hand and saying “Zoop.” This requires extreme concentration, trust and focus. You must listen intently to the word because the group must retain the sequence, “Zip Zap Zoop.” You will be disqualified if you say “Zap” or “Zip” when you should be saying “Zoop,” or “Zip” when you should be saying “Zap” or “Zoop.” You must
listen
.' Geon points to his ears. ‘Listen, trust and focus.' He claps his hands twice. ‘Milo, begin.'

Milo, with his palms pressed together, aims his hands towards a girl with cornrows. ‘Zip,' he says. Startled, the girl quickly points her hands at a man in a sailor's cap. ‘Zap,' she says.