The Wooden Sea (21 page)

I didn't know what I was doing when I made them--they just came to me and my hand acted like a slave. Astopel also sent the other you, the young one."

"Gee-Gee?"

"Yes."

She started giggling which only confused me more. "Why are you laughing, Antonya?"

"Because of all the èe-ee's' in your life. There's Gee-Gee and Pee-Pee Bucci..." She laughed out loud now and it was a great sound, a girlie sound, something that reminded you life could be your friend.

"And you know what? I wouldn't mind making wee-wee right now--too much coffee this morning. So that makes three ee-ee's for me-ee."

That set her off more. I sat basking in her loud free laughter like it was Italian sunshine. Nothing moved. I smoked Pee-Pee's Pall Mall cigarette and looked around.

Out my window a candy-apple-red Chevy El Camino driven by fat Russell Pratt stood waiting for an unchanging red traffic light to change to green. Which reminded me--

"Antonya, since you already died then you know: What comes after? Is there a God?"

Her new laughter came like a tidal wave. After it washed over everything she had to wipe her eyes. While looking at me in the rearview mirror her laughter came again. What the hell did I say?

"What the hell did I say? I only asked if there's a God."

"But you asked like you wanted to know what _time _it is. Like it's no big deal."

I rubbed the top of my head. "My life couldn't get any stranger than it is right now. The way things have been going, maybe _yoùre _God dressed up as the dead girl who drew pictures of my future. I don't know. There are no rules in my life anymore."

As if on cue, the door on my side of the car flew open and someone grabbed my shoulder.

Hard.

"Get out. Come on, get out of the car!" Gee-Gee. He looked and sounded very scared.

"What's up? What's going on?"

"Just get out of the car and let's go."

"Hi, Gee-Gee!" Antonya called out from the backseat.

He gave her a quick eyeball while pulling on my shirt.

"Get-the-fuck-out! Let's go."

Starting to move, I looked in the mirror one last time. Antonya was still smiling. It was bizarre because her facial expression was exactly the same as it had been moments before when she was laughing at me. It seemed like her face would stay like that forever.

"Bye, Frannie!"

"Run, motherfucker. Just run like _a fuck!" _Gee-Gee took off like a cheetah.

My middle-aged legs and Marlboro lungs were no match for the kid. He'd blast down the street half a block then stop short to check on me. Gesturing me forward with a big wave of his arm, he'd call out hurry, move it, _come on. _I

tried but it was no use. Trying to keep up with him, I knew my days of running hard on this earth were finished. Plus why the hell were we running anyway?

Why had I followed him when I might have learned important things from Antonya if I'd stayed?

Found out about death or God or who knows what else. But no, I just jumped up and ran after myself. Hey me, wait for me!

When I was on my third verge of collapse I gathered enough strength to call out to him, "Where are we going?"

"Home! We got to get home before they get here."

"Who's _they?_

"Just move, man. Just move."

Back the way I'd come, past Scrappy's Diner, the high school, houses of old friends and enemies.

Another dog I'd known stood sniffing a spot in someone's garden. Stopping to catch my breath I felt like I was running past my life, in reverse. But even that strange way, memories continued to fly through my mind like small objects flying around in a tornado. There was no way I could have stopped them.

But something stopped Gee-Gee. Twenty feet in front of me he was suddenly airborne and then fell in a strange way on his side. When he hit the ground it was so loud that I could hear the bounce of his bones on stone. Running up, I

was only concerned for him. The boy--the boy--he fell so hard--is he all right?

"Don't worry about me--just get back to the house!" Holding his hip, he kept looking behind
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me, then all around, very scared. His face was so scared.

"Gee-Gee, what is it? What's happening?"

"Astopel screwed up everything. He interfered. He interfered with your life and shouldn't have. I only found that out for sure now. Before I thought it was okay he was around. It was okay to bring me here to be with you and send us both to the future, _but it wasn't. _He shouldn't have done any of it.

Understand? He shouldn't have killed Antonya. He shouldn't have come and tried to influence you. But he did, and now you got to deal with the fallout. His shit comes down on _your _head if things go wrong, but that's the way it is.

So get home, please. If you get to the house I think you'll be safe. If not, you're fucked, and that's a guarantee."

"What about Astopel?"

"He's gone. They got him. You won't see that jerkoff again."

"Who's they?"

He tried to stand up but couldn't. He fell back down and started cursing. I reached to help him but he swatted my hand away. "Take off!

Get out, will you just go!" And suddenly he began to cry.

I knew where those tears came from. That very deep and secret address: seventeen-year-old McCabe Street. The place no one had ever been allowed to go or see or even know about. The place locked tight away behind walls of cruelty, bluff, and resentment. Where love too fragile or deformed lived, as well as an overbearing fear that everything you ever dreamed of doing would either stink or embarrass you or fail miserably.

I hesitated only an instant before pulling him up and onto my shoulder in a fireman's heave. He was so light. It almost made me laugh how light he was. He screamed at me to put him down, but that's not what he wanted. Not really.

Besides, I was already moving toward the house and there was little he could do in that helpless position.

Walking seemed easier with him over my shoulder. I thought about that later and gargled on the symbolism--whenever you're willing to carry your self...

that kind of baloney.

"Put me down!"

"Shut up and row."

"What?"

"How do you row a boat on a wooden sea?"

"Have you flipped out?"

"No. That's what Antonya asked me back in the car."

"Really? She asked that?"

Our words were broken up by my chugging along--Really? She-asked-that?

"Yes, right before you came. Was that really Antonya?"

"I don't know. Yeah, probably. Or maybe it was one of them. I'm not sure."

I stopped. I could feel his body heat against my cheek. "Who's them?

Just tell me that. Who's _them?"_

"Aliens."

"Uh-oh."

"I second that emotion, brother."

*At Home in the Electric chair*

"Gee-Gee, would you like some more bacon?"

"Oh yes, ma'am, that would be great. It's delicious." "Ma'am sounds like a cowboy movie. Call me Magda. We're practically related.

Frannie, I cannot get over how alike you two look. He really could be your son. Are you sure you're telling me the truth about who he belongs to?" My wife gave me a shame-on-you smile while spearing three more fat slices of

Canadian bacon onto Gee-Gee's plate. She handed it back. He immediately shoved a whole piece in his mouth and like a dog, barely chewed before swallowing it.

That made seven pieces of bacon he had eaten in two breakfasts over the course of two hours.

Was he a black hole? Where did all of the food go? Did he have several stomachs like a cow? Or cheek pouches like a chipmunk where he stored it for the winter? Had I really eaten that much when I was his age?

Magda and Pauline couldn't take their eyes off him, for different reasons obviously. Magda was totally delighted to have this mysterious husband-lookalike sitting at her breakfast table. In contrast, Pauline appeared sexually stunned, or like she had been hit on the head with a wooden mallet. Same difference. Outside our house, aliens waited to devour us, but inside it was full breakfast ahead. I didn't understand how Gee-Gee could suddenly be so calm about it.

The women were sitting in the living room waiting for us when we came in. I had a million questions to ask him but wasn't about to discuss little green men or dead Antonya with these two innocents around. They had cooked breakfast together, a real rarity in our house and a sign of the specialness of the occasion. The only thing I could do was sit with a piled plate
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in front of me, trying to make eye contact with Gee-Gee to see if he'd communicate anything.

The one time I caught his eye, he smiled and did a small cha-cha with his head. I assumed that meant I was to stay cool and wait for the right moment to talk. But he was the one who'd started the scare thing outside. Now he had my fearometer in the red zone (a new experience for me) while he enthusiastically wolfed down bacon and blueberry pancakes.

"Frannie, how come you never told me about Gee-Gee?" Magda looked beautiful that morning although she is not a beautiful woman. And so did Pauline. They were two great-looking women and I was lucky to be living in the same house with them. The house which at that very moment might have been surrounded by space invaders, according to Bacon Face across the table from me.

I looked at her and tried to think up a believable lie. "Because his parents are jerks and I wanted nothing to do with them. I never even really knew about him till recently. Hey, Gee-Gee, remember those _visitors _you talked about before?"

He didn't even look up from his plate. "Yeah?"

"Are they coming over here or not?"

"Dunno. Could I have some more syrup please?"

Magda prodded. "What visitors? Should we be making some more pancakes?"

Gee-Gee waved his fork around. "Some guys I know from out of town."

_"Out of town?" I _sputtered.

"Are they friends of yours?" Pauline's voice was jumping out of her throat--more Gee-Gees were coming to our house this morning? Yeah, baby!

"They're more just guys than friends, know what 1 mean?" Magda looked at Pauline and simultaneously the two grew exactly the same smile--Boys Ahoy!

I was so frustrated by whatever stall tactic he was up to that I couldn't sit still any longer. For want of anything better to do I stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. Looking out the window there I was glad to see only the old rusty swing set and not ET. No flying saucers had landed in our backyard.

Turning on the tap I watched silvery water rush into the sink and down the drain. When it had run a long time Magda asked what I was doing.

"Counting molecules." I didn't look up. I felt like I was going to pop.

"Frannie--"

"Nothing's wrong, Mag. Don't worry about me."

Gee-Gee said, "Look out the window, Uncle Frannie."

"I just did."

"Look harder. Look really carefully at the backyard."

I ignored him and kept looking at the water. I turned it off. Then on.

Then off again.

Pauline piped up, "Are your friends here, Gee-Gee? Are they in the backyard?"

"Naah. There's just something out there I want Uncle Fran to see."

A chair scraped the floor. A moment later Pauline stood next to me.

Putting a hand on my shoulder, she rested her chin on it. This girl was not a big displayer of affection. I assumed her cuddle was for Gee-Gee's benefit. I didn't care--it was nice having her there. I tipped my head till it leaned on hers. "You smell good."

"I do?"

"Yup. You smell like cloves and burning leaves."

"Wow, that's a cool description, Uncle Frannie. Cloves and burning leaves. I like that a lot."

I turned toward Gee-Gee. Surprisingly he was watching me with real admiration.

"I swear to God--I never heard anyone described like that."

"Well, kid, when you're older I'm sure you'll think up clever things like that to say too."

He grinned while a small continent of yellow and spotted blue pancake dropped off his fork.

Pauline pinched my side. "That was mean. He was only paying you a compliment."

"You're right. Put your head back on my shoulder--it feels good."

After she did I turned back to the window to see if there was anything in the yard that I'd missed.

"The swings are gone."

"What swings?" Pauline said dreamily.

"Keep watchin', Unc."

As I said, our house once belonged to the family of my boyhood friend Samuel Bayer. In the corner of _their _yard a kid's swing set sat dying all through our childhood. The people I bought the house from had had the swings removed.

But because the world outside this morning was the 1960s, the backyard view had included the rusted, brown, sad-looking flying machine that had sent any number of kids into almost-orbit for a few happy years. The view _had

_included those swings. I knew because when I looked at the yard minutes before, I saw them
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and instantly remembered. Now they were gone.

"Gee-Gee, what's up?"

"Keep looking. Keep watching."

"Holy shit!"

"What's the matter, Frannie?" Magda asked.

"Could I have some more pancakes, Aunt Magda?"

"Of course, honey. You all right, Frannie?"

"Yeah."

Out in the yard the swings were not the only things that were gone. As I watched, the entire landscape changed. It wasn't fast like a time-lapse film.

But if you watched one spot for a few seconds you'd see it and everything around it change to one degree or another.

Behind where the swings had stood was a wooden fence. A few months earlier, Johnny Petangles and I spent a Sunday afternoon painting it brick red. In the 1960s when the Bayer family lived in the house the fence was white. And it had been that white a few minutes ago when the swings stood in front of it. Now there were no swings and the fence was green. Then it gradually became navy blue, white again, a different shade of green, then brick red. When I bought the house the fence was white. I had painted it that second shade of green and only recently covered it with the red.