Theo (9 page)

Theo is not holding the fax anymore. Where is it. It was for Colin, but what did it say. Something weird, about a ship. Did he leave it in the house or outside. It’s hard to remember stuff.

Theo wants to be responsible. He can be trusted with important things. He pushes himself up, and slowly onto his feet, and steers back to the house, which he just left. All day he’s done nothing but circle around, in and out, up and down. He’s getting dizzy. He wants to go in a straight line and not stop. Find Colin.

There’s the lady from the car. She’s out on the terrace now, drinking a glass of something, smoking a cigarette, sitting 
with two other people Colin doesn’t know, two men. One has goggling eyes that pop out, and spiky hair. His clothes are all torn and both he and the other man have on long sleeves and long pants and hard heavy-looking black shoes. The men sit propped on the stones of the terrace. All three are smoking. One is beating on the terrace with his hands. The others nod their heads to a rhythm they hear.

Hi Theo, the lady says. You remember me.

Theo does, but he doesn’t remember her name. Sort of, he says, but not wanting to be rude. He’s a little fuzzy.

I’m Gina. This is Richard and Alan. This is Theo, Frieda’s son.

Hey: one speaks, the other nods and smiles.

Where’s Colin.

Colin. Oh, Colin.

The motorbike’s waspy whine echoed from the ballroom. I think that’s him. He’s inside, Gina says.

Thanks.

Theo walks around them, and toward the open French doors. He can see the noise shooting out like smoke or waves. It hurts to hear, and Theo puts his hands over his ears. Ducking from the light into the darker ballroom Theo gets dizzy for a few seconds and halts, looking while he steadies himself, hands cupped over ears.

Colin straddles the lime motorbike wearing the towel cape, revving the bike, staring at the exhaust pipe and then at Theo. The towel says Welcome to Myrtle Beach, with a big seahorse on it. Colin also has on the goggles he wears when he rides, and a blue swimming snorkel strapped to his head. He holds a thumb up to Theo and spits out the snorkel and yells: what is up, white man.

Theo walks over with his hands on his ears, as Colin stops twisting the grip throttle and the engine settles into a crackling and popping idle.

There was a fax for you, but I lost it.

Colin stares, his eyebrows angle down under the goggles: What did it say.

I’m sorry: Theo takes his hands from his ears. Something about an old-timey ship.

What. Sorry mate, what.

Something about a sail.

A main sail.

I think.

Did it say something about reefing the main sail.

I think. I’m sorry, Colin – I’ll try to find it. What does that mean.

Holy suffering nails of Jesus.

Colin guns the bike and skitters off down a hall toward the other side of the house, legs splayed on either side for balance as the bike totters. The noise splits Theo’s head and he ducks, then isn’t sure what to do. Is it something he can help with. He follows Colin, feeling bad. How could he know what it meant. But he could have made sure to deliver it. Theo’s face feels hot.

Crows land in a noisy knot somewhere outside, sounding like angry babies, demanding and raw. Theo’s been around babies and didn’t like them much.

He hears loud voices ahead, agitated, but can’t tell what is being said, the bike revving in the background, then the engine revs and grows a little fainter – Colin must have be riding around to the front hall. Then the bike noise dies.

Theo follows the sound, coming into the seraglio and seeing his mother and the others up and rummaging through clothes
and digging in pockets, collecting things lying around, yelling about where to put them. Theo’s mother sweeps around angry and impatient; she snaps at the others, including the Marthe woman: my god, you act like children. Use the bathrooms or eat it. Seeing Theo walk toward her, she glides at him. My love, go outside and play.

What is going on. Why is Colin upset.

It’s nothing, love. Go outside. We’ll go down to the beach and spend the day. No, let’s go into town and have luncheon. What time is it, Mark.

Eleven.

A.m.

Yes.

Good. Lunch would be good, no. We are going out for a while.

Frieda puts her hand on Theo’s head and walks through the hall, gliding, in the direction of the front hall. She wears white fur, and a very short skirt.

Mom, do you want to put on your shoes.

No, my darling, not necessary. Mark, Julio, find Richard and Gina and Alan and see if they’d like to come with. You too, for that matter, of course.

They’re on the terrace, Theo says, to help.

The band is, Theo’s mother asks.

Well, that lady named Gina is there with two men.

Let’s get out of this place before I suffocate.

Theo watches the adults, unsure what to do. He puts his hands over his ears again, an ache returning.

What’s wrong, love.

My head hurts.

What’s wrong.

He looks at her closely, kneeling now in front of him. I hit my head on the floor.

Oh, no. Are you alright, my darling. She peers into his face, but seems not quite focused, and Theo figures maybe she forgot why she was looking.

It’s okay, mom, Theo says.

She smiles slowly, like the sun rising over the ocean: I love you, my love.

Others disappear through doors. Theo’s mother still kneels in front of him, sniffing and smiling. She’s just looking at him, and eventually she just sits down on the floor.

What are you doing.

Looking at you. You’re beautiful.

Stop mom. He turns, angry and blushing.

Can’t I look at my beautiful son.

I thought you said we were going to lunch.

Ah, so I did. When the others get here, we’ll go. Would you like a hamburger. Yes, seafood, she says. She lies back on the floor.

Mom.

Mmm hmm.

What are you doing. Are you okay, mom.

Mmm hmm.

Do you want me to sit with you.

Mmm hmm.

So Theo lowers himself to the floor beside her; her eyes closed but she’s smiling. He lies back beside her. Her head is lifted off the floor by the fur, like a pillow, but Theo’s got nothing but stone under his head, surprisingly always cool. He doesn’t want lunch. Where is Colin. Theo sees his chrysalises, glistening up under the attic eaves, gleaming lights in the dark. He wonders if they’ll ever open.

Frieda. Come on, let’s go for a walk.

It’s the lady Gina, with the two men, and the short man with the baseball shirt who’d gone to get them.

Let’s get her up and walk her around. Theo, what are you doing.

Helping her.

Okay, cool. Let’s walk her around, get a little exercise, then we’ll see about lunch.

The man named Richard says, dilettantes and parvenus.

Would you shut up. Gina glares at Richard as she bends toward Frieda.

Sorry man.

Richard’s eyes bulge, a bright green, but the dark bruises under them get darker as he bends over. Gina isn’t looking at Richard anymore, just lifting Frieda, limp but awake, staring, smiling from one side of her mouth.

I need a cigarette, Frieda says. Then she says hello darling, but to whom is not clear.

Come on, show me your house, Frieda.

It’s not my house, baby. It’s Adrian’s. He just lets me live here. He lets me live other places too. He’s very kind. A kind of man. Frieda stares around. And my beautiful boy. His grandfather has custody. It’s the only way Adrian can get a visa. Theo’s mother says something else, in a language Theo didn’t know.

What did you just say, Gina asks.

The end of pleasure is pain, Frieda says. That was vernacular Italian, speech of the Roman street.

Really.

I forgot who said it. Not Dante, now that I think about it. Too Celtic. Must have been some Irish ballad. I can’t remember. Shall we sing.

How about Nearer My God to Thee.

Ha ha. Frieda leans at Richard and kisses him, on the lips, Theo sees. Women and children first. Then we shall blow the iceberg out of the water with a big torpedo, we have learned our lesson, Frieda finishes.

Theo follows Richard and Gina, on either side of his mother, who is tall as Richard even barefooted, with Gina shorter; Frieda in her short skirt, and Gina in hers, Richard in his black torn things. A lot of people here look like they were attacked by something with claws. Theo has forgotten his head, concentrating on what the adults are saying. When he flicks back to thinking about his head, it hurts.

As a kid trying to guess what was important to grownups, based on what they said, Theo was almost always wrong. Theo figures maybe he’ll try to find something to eat in the pantry, because he is hungry. However, he follows the knot of adults, thinking about what to say if his mother wants to drive because that seems like not a good idea.

Theo was in a car wreck with her once. He was five, and his face hit the radio button on the dashboard, right next to his eye, on his cheekbone, and that side swelled up. The dashboard was made of wood and the buttons were silver metal, with a flat round top that made a circle bruise on his cheek, he
remembered
. He got to ride in an ambulance, and the ambulance
doctors
joked around with him, a lady and a man wearing yellow rubber gloves, the lady sat next to him, and the man sat on a kind of built-in chair. They called him a basketball because he had bounced around the inside of the car, but they smiled
nicely
when they said it. They talked to him about animals and his birthday, and food he liked to eat. His mother had been crying and yelling at him, he couldn’t understand what she was saying
after the car stopped and the police and ambulances came, but the ambulance doctors said it was okay and that she wasn’t mad, that she was just worried about him and sometimes upset
people
get things backward, act angry when they’re really scared and worried. We see it all the time, the man said. Theo had lived with his father in hotels for a while after that.

Now they are in the entrance, among Colin’s chess pieces, and Theo’s mom and Gina and Richard pass the open front door clogged with car and then someone is talking at them from outside, from the other end of the car. They stop. Theo walks up from behind but can’t see so he moves to one side to see around Richard.

Two black cars out there on the gray gravel, three men in blue suits and one man in a blue police uniform. The cars have lights on top but no writing on the sides.

What happened here. There’s no shortage of parking space, one of the men in suits laughs out.

Captain, or admiral. Sergeant. This is private property. We may certainly park wherever we like.

We’re federal agents.

The men in suits were flanking Frieda’s car now, on the steps, holding up unfolded wallets with gold badges on them. Behind them the police officer was looking up and down and around and at both wings of the house.

We’d like to talk to two of the people on the lease here.

The men mention Colin and Gus. They ask, are you – then they say Theo’s mom’s whole name, which is long.

Gina asks, what’s the problem, officers.

We’re not officers, ma’am. This is routine immigration procedure. We need to get some information.

The men ask if Colin and Gus are home.

Frieda says, we were on our way out for lunch.

Gina says, no, remember, we’re going to eat on the terrace. I don’t feel like messing with the tourists.

Staring at her, squinting, one of the men nods: yeah, summer people are a real pain.

Gina stares at him, the wind ruffling her skirt suddenly. Richard says, I’m hungry.

Colin and Gus are not here at the moment, they’re in Manhattan at a meeting, Frieda says, straightening her shoulders.

When do you expect them back.

We don’t know. They had a lot of business to attend to.

Busy guys.

The three men in suits look at each other. One shrugs. We could wait. Would you mind if we waited. We just need to get some information. If we wait we can miss rush hour heading back into the city.

Frieda sighs. Gentlemen. I think you might get bored. And you are trespassing. If you stay, please don’t touch the grass.

Let’s get back to lunch: Gina steers Frieda out of the door and she and Richard and Frieda move down the hall. Theo, will you shut the door please.

Theo stands alone now, the four men staring at him.

Hi Theo. Where’s your grandfather.

Theo doesn’t say anything. If he says he doesn’t know, is that a lie, or would they think it’s a lie. They walk up steps closer to him, quickly.

I’m supposed to close the door now.

You’re a good boy, Theo. You look like your dad.

How do you know my dad.

Everybody knows your dad, Theo. All four men grin. He’s famous.

I have to close the door now.

Okay, son. We’ll be out here not touching the grass. The men stood staring at him, now all on the top step.

Theo looks down and his heart beats hard. He goes to one door and swings it shut then walks to the other one, swings it shut. Ow, says one of the men, my foot.

Sorry, Theo says from behind the door, heart skipping again.

Just kidding, Theo. You’re a good kid. Tell your dad we said hello.

Theo walks away from the doors, the big hall empty, the desert of statues to be crossed, voices now from a variety of directions, up and down, but no one near. Some of the voices again yelling, someone doing a football cheer, Theo knows, for Tottenham Hotspur – that might be Colin, it’s hard to tell – an electric guitar drifting down from one of the upper floors. Theo remembers his stomach. Where is his mom.

Theo glides toward the kitchen and pantry, wondering if Colin knows about the men out front: is anyone telling him. Theo thinks maybe he should make sure Colin and Gus know. But how can he tell Gus if Gus’s on the back lawn somewhere. Do men like that really wait around. They do on the TV shows he’s seen in hotels and at people’s houses. His mother says television’s the crippler of young adults. Men from the government can do what they want, as far as Theo understands, so he guesses they will be around until Gus or Colin go talk to them.