Theo (22 page)

Colin looked mad, angry mad not crazy mad as they used the word in England – beware beware – and now he was spinning around in a circle holding out the shovel.

Theo fell backward and then scuttled out the door, hanging off its hinges, followed by Colin’s voice – Theo, my lad, never underestimate the value of a classical education. Theo turned back to see Colin, pounding on the piano with the shovel, yelling.

Standing outside the carriage house now, Colin and others wrestling on the ground, Theo wonders what a classical education is. Does he have one. He tries not to think about it but sometimes he can’t help it – school. He likes to learn things, he wants to learn things, and he has a lot of questions. Like now about his dad, if his head’s okay.

Sometimes Theo thinks he can see the skull under someone’s
skin. Not see see, but just be reminded it’s there. One day his dad’s head’ll just be a skull. His heart flutters, suddenly, like it’s trapped; his mom’s got a skull too. Ladies, everyone. Him. Dogs. Where are the dogs.

On the lawn between the house and the shed wanders a woman in a big white wedding dress, with red sneakers on, and a red bow in her hair. Her stomach is big: she’s going to have a baby. A man with long hair is crouching in front of her taking pictures with a black camera. Theo’s own hair is in his eyes, and he blows it out of the way. He doesn’t see anyone he knows, his dad and the naked lady and most of the others inside now. Theo doesn’t want to be in there.

Theo shades his eyes with a hand, tries to guess what time it is – just a little later than when the horse man said it was two, so it’s probably three. Theo is in enemy territory: he must be careful. Theo sees a bear emerge from the trees, and the bear is Mingus, walking with the Gina lady. Mingus holds one of his Olde English bottles, and he’s waving his other hand around and pointing up at the sky. The lady is laughing, now she bends over to laugh. Theo runs at them.

Mingus is saying, the first time all the stuff’s been together at one time – Gagosian saw it and wanted to do it at both his places. First time he’s done a show like that.

Gina is chewing gum and blowing bubbles. Both of them are wet, Gina’s seal-sleek, still wearing her skirt, her legs smooth and she has painted toenails. Mingus’ big stomach uncovered, big as the lady in the wedding dress.

You look like you’re going to have a baby, Theo says, hopping around.

That, my friend, Mingus says, is what survival looks like. When the revolution comes and food’s scarce, all you little
skinny people’ll be dropping like flies. Theo, you need to get you one of these, Mingus says, patting his stomach. This is my friend.

And it’s so sexy too, Gina laughs, winking at Theo. Her smile makes him feel funny. She’s really looking at him. Theo turns away and starts jumping around, to distract himself. He sees animals, he’s a cub.

I have large appetites, Mingus says.

He’s now wearing unlaced high top sneakers big as boots, scuffed white, and he’s shuffling over the grass, his yellow cape and shorts like a signal. Theo thinks he’s big as a fire engine or police car. What would cars be like if they were people. Maybe they are already and we just don’t know it.

What’s your real name, your Egypt name, Theo asks, following them over the lawn back toward the terrace and Gina peels off toward the men she was talking to earlier – are they in the same band. Theo can’t remember.

Already told you, I can’t give that up.

Why.

Cause it’s giving away power – names are powerful, and most people just throw all that power away, spraying their name all over the place. Mingus leaned down, like a cloud, making shade.

Names are like fate. In lots of cultures being named is considered the most important part of your life. The name tells which way your life will go, what kind of person you are. They call in their shamans to pick a name when a baby’s born. The Jews keep the name of God secret, and the Muslims have ninety-nine names for Allah because one isn’t enough for such an almighty dude. Ha.

Mingus reaches out and grabs Theo around the neck in a boa constrictor arm, and Mingus is reaching for Theo’s waist
and hoisting him up and through the air and tipping Theo over his shoulder so Theo’s hanging down Mingus’s back and his legs are flailing and kicking beside Mingus’s head.

Upside down Theo’s feeling dizzy, and his head feels huge and throbby as he strains to lift it and look back, watching the earth bounce, smelling Mingus.

You need a bath.

Yeah, I know, I been working hard today. We’re going to get some lunch now – you need fattening up.

The lady in the white dress and her red sneakers are upside down, and next to her a man in what looks like a black dress, or a robe, Theo can’t tell, thumping along, and the man in the black robe is holding a big orange ball and he’s putting it up under the robe or because he’s upside down he’s dropping it down into the robe, which is like a bag with his head at the bottom and it makes his stomach big and round like the lady and there’s the photographer hanging by his feet taking pictures of them hanging by their feet, and them kissing, Theo thinks, at least their heads are together, and the man’s hair is long and the woman’s is very short because she’s taken off her veil. And her red shoes, and the photographer’s wearing blue overalls with one red shoe and one blue shoe and a red sock with the blue shoe and a blue sock with the red shoe, and Theo’s just hanging and watching but Mingus is grunting about him being heavy. They all are skulls. Where is his dad.

Mingus slips Theo off his shoulder and again Theo’s stomach flips, then Mingus is lifting him straight and over his head and setting his legs like a wishbone around Mingus’ neck. And the pregnant lady and the man with the basketball and the man in the army uniform are all swapping clothes while the photographer takes pictures, the lady’s big stomach in the sun
and her big breasts. Theo sees nipples like eyes looking at him, so big and round. He pokes Mingus in the back of the head and he’s burning up all of a sudden, so embarrassed.

Hey, monkey, Mingus snorts. He turns so they’re facing the ocean and away from the people and then lifts Theo off his shoulders and sets him down.

Whyn’t you go play a little before lunch. Somewhere there ain’t women.

Theo’s so embarassed. Should he say sorry or thanks, or just nothing. Why didn’t it happen to adults. And he wanted to look, not not look. But.

Natural as water flowing, man, nothing to sweat. It’s the body just letting you know you’re alive. It’ll calm down.

Theo doesn’t know where to look or not look, and the birds whirling, and he just doesn’t want to be confused anymore, he feels always like he’s swimming and he doesn’t know if that’s an island or a whale or a sea monster and if when he’s standing on it he’ll be safe or bucked off and swimming for his life. But he’s a pirate. Frieda keeps saying that anyway.

Theo’s bouncing, looking back now at the house: the man and lady and photographer and the army man – the lady’s wearing the uniform with the coat opened, her stomach sticking out like a white dome, one man in the dress, one man in the tuxedo, all barefoot, the men looking alike, Theo can’t tell. The photographer lying on the ground taking pictures of them; now rolling over so he’s upside down taking pictures.

At the side of the lawn Colin on someone’s shoulders is wrestling with a lady on another man’s shoulders, then they break apart, tottering and screaming and laughing, then the carrying men move apart and somebody counts and then they run at each other and thump, Colin and the lady.

That’s not fair that you won’t tell me your name, Theo says.

Mingus flips a stick: Sorry, man, I gotta know you better.

How much better. You come here a lot.

Look, there are a lot of people who would like that information, so they could control me. And if you said it to somebody, and they said it to somebody and it got out on the web, and that web’s vibrating, then some spider’s going to pick that up. And I don’t want that to happen. I got about eight thousand strikes against me as a black man already, I have to hold on to what little I got left to me after I been scraped and peeled.

Theo peers up at Mingus, flipping, plastic eyes shining and black in the light, beads of sun on his face.

Adrian’s outside again now, walking toward Colin on the ground, with the president in the suit from last night who now has shorts and a shirt with flowers all over it. He has a glass in his hand. He’s the only person in shoes. His dad has a pair of white pants on, almost falling off; they hang way down, and the suit man has an arm around his waist. Theo wonders where the naked lady is. His dad frowns, whistles: Colin.

Colin on the ground yells, yeah.

Quick meet. Roger’s on his way.

Theo sees, as he and Mingus walk, heads on people everywhere turn toward his dad like deer hearing a stick crack.

Adrian notices the ripple of attention, shakes his head, laughs harshly, like he doesn’t think it’s funny: Bloody hell. Let the games begin.

When Roger comes it’s always a big deal. Theo likes Roger, but his dad gets crazy when Roger’s around. There are different kinds of famous. Theo’s dad is one kind, and Roger’s another bigger kind.

Of all the people around Theo’s dad, Roger’s the hardest one to figure out. Theo can never tell if he’s joking or not, or if he’s mad or not, or if he’s mean or not, or if he’s nice or not. It does seem to Theo that Roger is laughing at everyone, all the time, in his mind, like an alien observing Earth. He even looks like it: Roger has really big eyes but they remind Theo of a snake or a lizard, because he blinks really slowly and stares all the time, and they’re bright green, really light, and it’s almost like you could look into them and see what’s in his head, but instead it’s the opposite.

Roger and his dad fought a lot the last times they were together. They make the songs for the band and so they have to work together but lately Theo knows they’ve been doing it all by mail. His dad sends tapes and Roger sends tapes back.

The last time Roger came, in Jamaica, he brought Theo a bird, a green cockatiel with red cheeks. Theo named it Mo, because it looked like it had a mohawk. But you can’t keep it in a cage, Roger told him.

But you brought it in a cage.

Only because I had to get it here – now, it’s free.

Theo worried about the bird, watching its wings whir and hearing it shriek around the house over the heads of guests. Theo followed it around, until it came to one of the open windows – all the windows and doors were open – and was gone. He ran outside into the garden; do cockatiels know how to live in Jamaica. It was dark, but moon and stars spotted the sky and the trees rustled with other birds. Maybe it found some friends; maybe they’ll show it how to find food. Maybe it was really a gift for the other birds. But why did Roger bother to say it was for Theo. He stood outside listening, to the birds and the people, and wanted to lift the house and let the people out.

Theo went back in to tell Roger about Mo but Christina said Roger was outside with a reporter. Theo walked out the front, past the big jacarandas waving in the dark, and saw two people in a jeep. He walked toward them, and saw the two shadows blur together. Theo stood for a second.

Roger, Mo flew away.

The lady and Roger pulled apart, and Roger’s voice came at him.

That’s a happy ending.

Is that why you gave him to me. So he would fly away.

I gave him to you because I like you. I give presents to people I like.

Theo knew Roger was staring at him in the dark, he could feel it. Then a little orange coal moved in a curve up and brightened, and Theo saw Roger’s face, squinting at him. Theo heard a sigh, and maybe a whisper. He turned and walked back toward the house, the bricks warm under his feet and the air thick and sweet from the cigarette smoke in the house carried out by the breeze. Theo breathed deeply.

Theo now leaves Mingus, a shadow on grass – if Theo were a minnow he’d be hiding somewhere away from the big fish.

He runs over the hot green bristles of grass. Music booms from inside the house – what doesn’t Theo know about everything, why is there so much. He’s tired of being a kid.

He’s shooting past the people on the terrace talking, from bright into dark, the ballroom floor gritty and people sprawling everywhere with plates and the air rich with food smell. Theo is hungry again: where are the dogs. They like people and food. He wants to show his dad the butterflies. Where’s Gus. There’s someone taking pictures. There’s always
someone taking pictures. Theo makes a face and runs into the kitchen. People stand around, and Leslie is behind the table with a spoon putting food onto plates. A vase of flowers sits on either end of the line of warming things. She brought flowers. She’s now wearing a white jacket and her pink hair is candy. She’s smiling. Theo wonders what his mom is doing.

Bloody leaches and parasites, Theo hears Adrian’s voice. Roger’s something you can feel in the air, something coming. At least to his dad, but Theo feels something too, everyone a little louder. Maybe it’s just because they’re inside and sound’s got nowhere to go. Where are the dogs.

Theo winds through people, squinting in a stab of sunlight through the stained glass at the side of the kitchen, people occasionally rubbing his head or pinching as he passes. He ducks.

Dad, you want to see my butterflies.

Adrian’s got an arm around a man and a lady, one on either side, and the bald man who’s the record president holds a plate and feeds forkfuls into Adrian’s mouth.

Is your head okay. Why is he feeding you.

Because he can, Adrian says. And I’m busy holding these people up. They’re both train wrecks and they’d lay waste the crockery.

The man looked familiar from TV or a magazine. The lady reached out to push the bald man’s glasses back up his nose.

We need to nail this down, the bald man says.

Yeah, yeah. I know, Adrian sniffs and looks around, chewing.

Dad, I can’t find the dogs.

They’re okay, mate. They’re the only ones with enough sense to escape this asylum. They’re probably outside somewhere.