Milosz (22 page)

‘Your father loves you, my friend. And you love him. It's time to heal.'

Val powders Milo's face. ‘That's the best I can do,' she says.

‘Bootiful.'

The man in the armchair appears to be Gus but has the slack expression of the Botoxed. Is this his original face?

Cleared of other inmates, a corner of the lounge has been staged with paisley curtains, a flower arrangement, a coffee table, a pastoral painting and two easy chairs that do not match the worn vinyl chairs scattered throughout the retirement home. Sammy nudges Milo, urging him towards Gus. ‘Go get 'em, tiger,' he whispers.

‘Hi, Dad,' Milo says. Gus looks at him quizzically and shakes his hand when Milo offers it. ‘How are you?'

‘
Cześć
,' Gus says. Milo has never seen him in beige casual slacks, a golf shirt and a sports jacket. Val has combed his hair to one side, creating a part. Gus never parted his hair, always wore a brush cut.

‘I'm really sorry it took me so long to find you,' Milo says. ‘There was this crazy misunderstanding. The police thought you were dead. I searched for you for months.'

‘
Mówię po polsku
.'

‘I don't speak Polish, Dad.'

‘
Skąd jesteś?
'

‘I don't speak Polish.'

Gus shakes his head. ‘
Nie rozumiem
.'

Milo turns to Sammy. ‘Why isn't he speaking English?'

‘You don't speak Polish?'

‘Of course not.'

‘Why “of course not”? Your father's Polish.'

‘That doesn't mean I speak Polish.'

‘
Cicho
,' Gus says.

‘Dad, speak English.' Even the orange pill can't dull the panic erupting inside him as he realizes his co-star has forgotten his lines. Milo sits back in his chair and crosses his arms in an effort to appear unperturbed. ‘So, what have you been up to since you took off?'

‘
Nie rozumiem. Mówię po polsku
.'

‘The house is as you left it. I haven't changed a thing.'

Gus shakes his head. ‘
Nie rozumiem
.' There's something about his jaw, a looseness Milo doesn't recognize. Gus grinds his teeth in his sleep and clenches them all day long.

Intensely aware of the cameras, Milo tries to don an acceptable face, certainly not his original one. ‘Okay,' he says, smiling slack-jawed back. Two can play this game. ‘Have it your way.'

‘
Skąd jesteś?
'

‘Fine, thanks, and yourself?'

‘
Gdzie mieszkasz?
'

‘Oh, the usual, a little this and that.'

‘
Rozumiesz?
'

‘She's fabulous. She sends her love. They all do. The 'hood just hasn't been the same since you took off. Folks stop me in the street and say, “Boy, do we ever miss Gus, he was such a people person.”'

Gus shakes his head. ‘
Nie rozumiem
.'

‘Him too. He says, “Gus was a lot of fun at a party.”'

Gus looks at Sammy. ‘
Proszę przetłumaczyć?
'

‘Milo,' Sammy says, ‘what's going on here?'

‘What's going on is this asshole is trying to humiliate me as he has humiliated me my entire life. Well, you know what?' Milo stands, emboldened by the orange pill and his structured clothes. ‘I don't give a shit, play the Polish ignoramus if you want, you fucking sadist.'

‘
Nie podniecaj się
.'

‘Same to you, old man. I felt sorry for you living in this shithole but, frankly, you seem pretty happy so why don't we just leave you here. Maybe they'll let you keep the outfit. Nice haircut, by the way, makes you look like a pansy.'

Gus waves his hands and shakes his head. ‘
Nie chcę z Tobą rozmawiać
.'

‘Yeah, fuck you too, asshole.' All his life Milo has been afraid to say ‘fuck you' to his father. ‘Fuck you!' he repeats, feeling liberated, in command, totally Teflon.

‘
Jesteś wariat!
' Gus looks frightened as he tries to scurry out of the room.

‘You're upsetting him, Milo.'

‘Good, because he's upset me my entire fucking life!'

‘
Nie rozumiem. Nie chcę z Tobą rozmawiać.
'

‘Speak English, motherfucker!'

‘
Skurwysyn
.'

‘Cut,' Birgit says.

Like two boxers in a ring, they are kept at opposite sides of the room. Val and Birgit fuss over Gus while Sammy looks deeply into Milo's eyes. ‘Is that any way to talk to your father?'

‘He's fucking with my head. I don't need this shit. It's over.'

‘It's not over, my friend. Long after he's dead you will regret this moment, you will say to yourself, “Why couldn't I have been more understanding? He was an old man and I called him terrible things.”'

‘I won't regret it.'

‘When I left India I told my father I was never coming back. The look on his face will stay with me forever.'

‘I don't give a fuck about you or your father.'

‘You know what my father said? He said, “Son, do what you must.” He understood that I needed to be completely free of him to succeed. Well, you know something, not a day goes by when I don't wish I'd held him to my breast and said thank you.'

‘What's stopping you? You should do a reality show.'

‘He has passed. I missed my chance but you, my friend, you can set things right.'

‘I am not your friend.'

‘I have someone here who would like to talk to you.'

An unnaturally small woman, maybe a dwarf, sits beside Milo. Her feet don't touch the floor. ‘I'm Dr. Dingle.' She folds her tiny hands in her lap. ‘I've been observing your father. I was hoping your meeting would answer a few questions for me. Your father is suffering from an acquired brain injury.'

‘Where did he acquire it?'

‘That's the piece of the puzzle I was hoping you could help me with. Has he had a stroke in the past?'

‘Yes.'

‘That suggests he may have had another one. Or he may have experienced head trauma.'

‘You mean someone hit him?'

‘Or he had a fall. There are many ways to injure the brain. Whatever the cause, the result in his case is amnesia. Having watched your exchange, I believe he has forgotten how to speak English. I had hoped, on seeing you, it would come back at least partially, but alas, that is not the case.'

Alas? Milo watches Gus offer a brain-damaged grin to Birgit who strokes his hair as she stroked Milo's. Will Gus bury his face in her bosom?

‘A
CT
scan,' Dr. Dingle says, ‘showed damage to his hippocampus and medial temporal lobe. The common assumption following a stroke or a brain injury is that no further recovery is possible after twelve to eighteen months. However, while this may be the norm, I've seen this generalization proved false in individual patients.'

‘Which means?' Milo asks.

She shrugs and holds up her tiny hands. ‘His amnesia may or may not diminish. Try jogging his memory. Take him home and show him family photos and familiar places, cook him his favourite meals.'

What a repugnant thought. ‘What if he doesn't want to remember?'

‘He can't know what he doesn't want to remember.'

‘How do you know? Maybe he wants to forget me and my mother and his shitty life. Maybe he wants to live a happy dumbfuck Pollack life.'

‘Milo,' Sammy says, ‘think about what you're saying.'

‘No, you think about what
you're
saying. He's happy here, look at him, he's happy.'

‘He has terrible nightmares,' Dr. Dingle says.

‘How do you know?'

‘The staff have to sedate him quite frequently. Otherwise he's fully functional and fit as a fiddle. He doesn't belong here, Mr. Krupi. He should go home.'

‘What if I don't want him home?'

‘Then you'll have to make other arrangements. We accepted him on a temporary basis because he had no identification and no known relatives. Now, as next of kin, you must take responsibility for him.' She hops off the chair. ‘Fear not. The brain has great powers of repair and regeneration. Undamaged areas can take over some of the functions of damaged ones. I will give you medication should he have difficulty sleeping. Otherwise, as I say, he is in good health. He is very fond of apples.' The dwarf scoots past the crew members.

‘Bootiful. So you see, my friend, he's not fucking with your head. You just have to be patient, take him home, show him some pictures.'

‘I don't have any pictures.'

‘Everybody has pictures. Have a look around, it will be good for the show, the before and after.'

‘Forget the show, all right, forget it.'

The old codger in the golf cap who foiled Milo's escape shuffles into the room and points at him. ‘Tell my lawyers to sue them.'

Only after Sammy has bought him several beers and Birgit has stroked his hair does Milo realize there is no way out. He is condemned to a life of shovelling his father's shit. How absurd to have imagined he could be free of him. Like a benign growth, Gus will live in Milo's brain – inoperable – slowly taking up space, decreasing blood flow until Milo's grey matter succumbs, leaving only the tumour throbbing inside his skull.

Sammy, of course, is still reminiscing about India. ‘My brother and I sold goods at the market. We had to keep strict accounts. If we came up short, my father would beat us with a stick. Always he was saving for our education. My mother made the best chapatis and dahl in the village and people would bring bowls and we would fill them for a few rupees.'

Birgit looks at her watch. Milo resists an impulse to rest his head on her shoulder.

‘Everything was for our education. His sons meant everything to him.'

‘What's your brother do?'

‘I am proud to say he was recently chosen Salesman of the Month at Scarborough Nissan.' Sammy puts his arm around Milo. ‘Today is a day for forgiveness, my friend. How 'bout we go back in there and free your father from this prison?'

‘Alas,' Milo says, taking the plunge and resting his head on Birgit's shoul­der. Amazingly, she doesn't push him away. Is it possible she likes him? He has never slept with an older woman. Could she be the mother figure he has been missing? Will she make him feel so special it will become necessary to lie to her so as not to disappoint? Will she perform deviant sexual acts because she will be grateful to have a younger man? Are these thoughts real? Nothing's real, Val said. She is outside the bar sucking hard on cigarettes. Periodically she looks in on Milo, Sammy and Birgit and shakes her head.

‘I'm just a child,' Milo mutters.

‘Everybody is just a child, my friend. That is what is so bootiful about human beings. We are all children. Your father is a child searching for his home. A lost child. You cannot desert him, my friend, you will never forgive yourself. It's time to take you father home.'

‘What? Now?'

‘Yes, now.'

‘Forget it.'

‘There's no time like the present.'

Milo sits inert in the back of Sammy's
BMW
, no longer Teflon but bludgeoned by the combination of the orange pill and beers. Beside him, Gus stares eagerly out the window like a child on an outing. When they arrive at the house, with the crew in tow, Milo shows him the living room and the kitchen. Gus doesn't appear to recognize any of it. Milo leads him upstairs and shows him the back room that was formerly the baby's room. ‘This is where you sleep,' he says. When Annie died, Gus vacated the master bedroom and inhabited the back room, which had become a depot for junk he retrieved from other people's garbage. He made early-morning rounds on garbage day, collecting broken gadgets that he insisted were perfectly good, merely in need of ‘a little fixing,' and stored them in the back room. After Gus's disappearance, Milo took the liberty of removing some of the junk to make room for a stationary bike he'd intended to ride on a regular basis. Gus sits on the bike, now coated with dust, and begins to pedal. The camera crew moves in for the shot.

‘
Ale maszyna!
' Gus says, smiling his unfamiliar simpleton smile.

Milo points to the narrow bed. ‘I hope you still find the bed comfortable.' The old Gus preferred firm mattresses. After Annie died he said he never again wanted to sleep on that marshmallow.

Vera pokes her head in the room. ‘He looks just like you, Milo. Same eyes and chin.'

Pablo squeezes in beside her. ‘Milo must have his mama's nose.'