The Roy Stories (18 page)

 

Sailing in the Sea of Red He Sees a Black Ship on the Horizon

As a boy, Roy dreamed of going to sea, working as a deckhand on an oceangoing freighter, an ambition he was one day to realize. This vision took hold when he began reading the stories of Jack London and, later, those of Melville, Traven and Conrad. For awhile, he had a recurring dream in which he was a lookout positioned on the bow of a large boat at dawn. As the sun rose, the water turned red, and in the farthest distance Roy spotted an unmarked black cargo ship teetering on the lip of the horizon, as if it were precariously navigating a razor's edge of the planet. Roy felt that at any moment the mysterious freighter could tip over into the unseen and be lost forever.

When he was twelve years old, Roy's friend Elmo got his father to pay for him to take trumpet lessons. The old man operated a salvage business and didn't know much about music but he was proud of Elmo's desire to play the trumpet. The only tune Elmo ever learned to play all the way through, however, was “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Every so often, the old man would come home tired and dirty from the junkyard, plop down with a can of Falstaff in his favorite chair and ask Elmo to play something. Elmo would get his horn and stumble through “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” which never failed to delight his father.

“How's the trumpet lessons goin', son?” the old man would ask him. “Makin' progress, Dad,” Elmo would say. “Makin' progress.”

When Elmo quit taking trumpet lessons, the old man was visibly disappointed. “Don't know why he stopped,” he said, shaking his almost entirely bald head. “He was makin' progress.”

Many years later, when Elmo's father learned that he was dying from stomach cancer, the old man refused to have chemotherapy. All he wanted was morphine, to dull the pain. The old man had been a Marine during World War II and had seen combat in the Pacific, where he'd contracted malaria, of which he still suffered occasional bouts. He told Elmo and Roy that war was stupid.

“War's a business, boys,” said the old man, “big business, a way for the fat cats to make more coin when things ain't goin' so swift. This way they figure the ordinary citizen'll appreciate what they got and spend more after the shootin' stops. The fat cats live to make suckers out of us regular Joes.”

Every day for the last six months of his life, the old man sat in a lawn chair in front of his garage and never complained, even when his burly body shrunk down to the size of a boy's. He was never mean; all the kids in the neighborhood liked him.

“I want to go out being who I am,” he said, explaining why he refused to undergo chemotherapy.

After he passed away, Elmo called up Roy and said, “The old man died today. He's on that black ship you used to dream about.”

“He was a great man,” Roy told him.

“That's what I always thought,” said Elmo.

 

Wyoming

 

 

Cobratown

“We're really fine when we're together, aren't we? I mean, when it's just the two of us.”

“Uh-huh. How long till we get to the reptile farm?”

“Oh, less than an hour, I think.”

“Will they have a giant king cobra, like on the sign?”

“I'm sure they will, sweetheart.”

“I hope it's not asleep when we get there. Mom, do cobras sleep?”

“Of course, snakes have to sleep just like people. At least I think they do.”

“Do they think?”

“Who, baby?”

“Snakes. Do they have a brain?”

“Yes. They think about food, mostly. What they're going to eat next in order to survive.”

“They only think about eating?”

“That's the main thing. And finding a warm, safe place to sleep.”

“Some snakes live in trees, on the branches. That can't be so safe. Birds can get them.”

“They wait on the limbs for prey, some smaller creature to come along and the snake can snatch it up, or drop on it and wrap itself around and squeeze it to death or until it passes out from not having enough air to breathe. Then the snake crushes it and devours it.”

“You're a good driver, aren't you, Mom? You like to drive.”

“I'm a very good driver, Roy. I like to drive when we go on long trips together.”

“How far is it from Key West to Mississippi?”

“Well, to Jackson, where we're going, it's a pretty long way. Several hundred miles. We go north through Florida, then across Alabama to Mississippi and up to Jackson, which is about in the middle of the state.”

“Will Dad be there?”

“No, honey. Your dad is in Chicago. At least I think he is. He could be away somewhere on business.”

“Who are we going to see in Mississippi?”

“A good friend of Mommy's. A man named Bert.”

“Why is Bert in Mississippi?”

“That's where he lives, baby. He owns a hotel in Jackson.”

“What's the name of the hotel?”

“The Prince Rupert.”

“Is it like the Casa Azul?”

“I think Bert's hotel is bigger.”

“You've never seen it?”

“No, only a photo of it on a postcard that Bert sent.”

“How old is Bert?”

“I'm not sure. I guess about forty.”

“How old is Dad?”

“Forty-three. He'll be forty-four next month, on the tenth of April.”

“Will he invite me to his birthday party?”

“I don't know if your dad will have a birthday party, Roy, but I'm sure he would invite you if he did.”

“Some dinosaurs had two brains, Mom, do you know that?”

“Two brains?”

“Yeah, there's a picture in my dinosaur book that Dad sent me that shows how the really big ones had a regular-size brain in their head and a small one in their tail. The really big ones. It's because it was so far from their head to their tail there was too much for only one brain to think about, so God gave them two.”

“Who told you God gave dinosaurs two brains?”

“Nanny.”

“Your grandmother doesn't know anything about dinosaurs.”

“What about Bert?”

“What about him?”

“Do you think he knows about dinosaurs?”

“You'll have to ask him, baby. I don't really know what Bert knows about.”

“You said he was your friend.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Why don't I know him?”

“He's kind of a new friend. That's why I'm taking you to Jackson, to meet Bert, so he can be your friend, too.”

“Is Bert a friend of Dad's?”

“No, baby. Dad doesn't know Bert.”

“How far now to the reptile farm?”

“We're pretty close. The last sign said twenty-six miles. I can't go too fast on this road.”

“I like this car, Mom. I like that it's blue and white, like the sky, except now there's dark clouds.”

“It's called a Holiday.”

“We're on a holiday now, right?”

“Yes, Roy, it's a kind of holiday. Just taking a little trip, the two of us.”

“We're pals, huh?”

“We sure are, baby. You're my best pal.”

“Better than Bert?”

“Yes, darling, better than anyone else. You'll always be my favorite boy.”

“Look, Mom! We must be really close now.”

“The sign said, ‘Ten minutes to Cobratown.'”

“If it rains hard, will the snakes stay inside?”

“It's only raining a little, Roy. They'll be out. They'll all be out, baby, don't worry. There'll be cobras crawling all over Cobratown, just for us. You'll see.”

 

Chinese Down the Amazon

“What do you think, baby? Does this place look all right to you?”

“Is it safe?”

“Safe as any motel room in Alabama can be, I guess. At least it looks clean.”

“And it doesn't stink of old cigarettes, like the last one.”

“We can stay here.”

“I'm tired, Mom.”

“Take off your shoes and lie down, baby. I'll go out and bring back something for dinner. I'll bet there's a Chinese restaurant in this town. There's Chinese everywhere, Roy, you know that? Even down the Amazon it said in the
National Geographic
. I can get some egg rolls and pork chow mein and egg foo yung. What do you think, baby? Would you like some chow mein and egg foo yung? I'll just make a quick stop in the bathroom first. Out in a jiffy.”

“Could I get a Coca-Cola?”

“Oh! Oh, Christ! This is disgusting! Come on, baby, we're moving.”

“What happened, Mom?”

“Just filth! The bathroom is crazy with cockroaches! Even the toilet's filled with bugs!”

“I don't see any bugs on the bed.”

“Those kind come out later, when the light's off. Get off of there! The beds are probably infested, too. Let's go!”

“I've got to put on my shoes.”

“You can do it in the car. Come on!”

“Mom?”

“Yes, Roy?”

“Could I get a hamburger instead of Chinese?”

 

Bandages

“I was very shy when I was a girl, so shy it was painful. When I had to leave my room at school, to go to class, I often became physically ill. I got sick at the thought of having to see people, or their having to see me, to talk to them. I think this is why I had my skin problems, my eczema. It came from nerves. Being sick allowed me to stay by myself, wrapped up in bandages. People left me alone.”

“But weren't you lonely?”

“Not really. I liked to read and listen to the radio and dream. I didn't have to be asleep to really dream, to go into another world where I wasn't afraid of meeting people, of having them look at me and judge me. I really felt better, safe, inside those bandages. They were my shield, I suppose, my protection.”

“Prince Valiant has a shield.”

“I like this song, Roy. Listen, I'll turn it up: Dean Martin singing ‘Ain't Love a Kick in the Head.' He works hard to sound so casual, so relaxed. I always had the feeling Dean Martin was really very shy, like me. That he affected this style of not seeming to care, to be so cool, in order to cover up his real feelings. That's his shield.”

“Are we still in Indiana?”

“Yes, baby. We'll be in Indianapolis soon. We'll stay there tonight.”

“Indiana goes on a long time.”

“It seems that way sometimes. Look out the window. Maybe you'll see a farmer.”

“Mom, are there still Indians in Indiana?”

“I don't think so, baby. They all moved away.”

“Then why is it still called Indiana, if there aren't any Indians left?”

“Just because they were here before. There were Indians, many different tribes, all over the country.”

“The Indians rode horses. They didn't have cars.”

“Some of them had cars after.”

“After what?”

“After people came from Europe.”

“They brought cars from Europe?”

“Yes, but they made them here, too. That's where the Indians got them, the same as everybody else.”

“There aren't so many horses here as in Florida.”

“Probably not.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, Roy?”

“You still wrap yourself up with bandages sometimes.”

“When I have an attack of eczema, to cover the ointment I put on the sores, so I don't get everything greasy.”

“You don't want anyone to see the sores?”

“One time, not long after I married your father, I had such a bad attack that my skin turned red and black, and I had to stay in the hospital for a month. The sores got so bad they bled. The skin on my arms and hands and face stank under the bandages. I couldn't wash and I smelled terrible. When the nurses unwrapped the bandages to sponge me off, the odor made me want to vomit.

“One day your dad's brother, Uncle Bruno, was there when the nurses took off the bandages. He didn't believe I was really sick, I don't know why, but he wanted to see for himself. It was costing your dad a lot of money for doctors to take care of me and to keep me in a private hospital. When they removed my bandages, Bruno was horrified by the sight of my skin. He couldn't stand the smell or to look at me, and he ran out of the room. I guess he was worried about all the money your father was spending on me. He probably thought I was pretending to be so sick. After that, he said to your dad, ‘Kitty used to be so beautiful. What happened to her?'”

“But you are beautiful, Mom.”

“I wasn't then, baby, not when I was so sick. I looked pretty bad. But Bruno knew I wasn't faking. I screamed when the nurse peeled off the bandages, my skin stuck to them. Bruno heard me. He wanted your dad to get rid of me, I was too much trouble.”

“Did Dad want to get rid of you?”

“No, baby, he didn't. We separated for other reasons.”

“Was I a reason?”

“No, sweetheart, of course you weren't. Your father loves you more than anything, just like I do. You mustn't ever think that. The trouble was just between your dad and me, it had nothing to do with you. Really, you're the most precious thing to both of us.”

“When will we get to Chicago?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Where are we going to stay? At Nanny's house?”

“No, baby, we'll stay at the hotel, the same place as before. Remember how you like the chocolate sundaes they make in the restaurant there?”

“Uh-huh. Can we sit in the big booth by the window when we have breakfast?”

“Sure, baby.”

“Can I have a chocolate sundae for breakfast?”

“One time you can, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Mom?”

“Huh?”

“Do I have nerves?”

“What do you mean, baby? Everyone has nerves.”

“I mean, will I ever have to be wrapped up in bandages because of my nerves?”

“No, Roy, you won't. You're not nervous like I was, like I sometimes get now only not so bad as when I was younger. It'll never happen to you, never. Don't worry.”

“I love you, Mom. I hope you never have sores and have to get wrapped up again.”

“I hope so, too, baby. And remember, I love you more than anything.”