by edward harkness · the acoustic tiles forever. they picked a sunday. my aunt recalls they looked...
TRANSCRIPT
SayingtheNecessary
ByEdwardHarkness
eBookEdition
Producedby1827WaldenOfficeSquareSuite260,Schaumburg,IL60173,USAEnquiries:[email protected]
ePubISBN978-1-5457-2228-2
CONTENTSFlyingFortress
Goldenrod
1964
CheckingtheWellatNight
TheNightKidParetwasKilledonTV
Helen
RightField
FlyingFortress:MyFatherSurvivestheWar
Nap
BuryingtheAfterbirth
PuttingThingsBy
ANotetoMySons
TheWorldsIKnow
MySon’sDrawingofaSmilingDeer
HisNightLight
SevenStarSpoon
ANotetoMySons
DragonKite
DragonKite
AudeninChina
WatercolorPaintingofaBambooRake
SupermaninChina
AloneontheGreatWall
Qin’sClayArmy
MusicinTonglouPark
Shanhaiguan:EastEndoftheGreatWall
BlackButterflies
Spain,1938
LincolnBrigadeReunion
OnReadingoftheHangingofBenjaminMoloiseinSouthAfrica
BlackButterflies
AttheSiteoftheUndergroundMissileSilo
WomanwiththeEgg
KennyAtkisson,K.I.A.,KheSanh
Rifles
HighCountryClimb
NorthofOrcas
CometHayakutake
TheManintheRecreationRoom
HighCountryClimb
TossingaRain-SoakedJournalBackintheBurnBarrel
Tonight
CliffAbovetheYakima
Kaylyn,HermistonElementary
Cutthroat
WinterWren
SayingtheNecessary
SayingtheNecessary
Acknowledgments
FlyingFortress
Goldenrod—forLinda
Hereisharebell,herethesnowyblossoms
ofserviceberry.Alongthecrumblededge
ofthebank,foxfireglowswildwithsummer,
roseredasitburns.Thesmellofsage
brightensanafternoonlitbylupine,
sweetensthissandbarthenextfloodwillruin.
TheNachesglittersontheleavesofanaspen,
colorscloudsoverTimberwolfMountain.
Frompineshadeyoustepouttomeetme.
HeatshiversoffthebonesofClemensRidge.
Whichweedsarethese?Iask.Youslipfree
fromyourmuslinskirtandspreaditontheledge.
YousayGoldenrod,andthewordtakesroot
inthesandwherewelie,transientaslight.
1964Thisistheroomwheretheyfoundthem,
heinthecheapwoodenchair,hislegs
crossed,headback,thewallbehindspeckled
withhisblood.Shelayonthemotelbed
inafloweredhousedressasifnapping,
glovedhandsfoldedonherchest,
thepillowsoaked,herblondehairprim,
hardlymussed,hereyesopentocount
theacoustictilesforever.TheypickedaSunday.
Myauntrecallstheylookedasthoughthey’d
justreturnedfromchurch.Sheneverreplaced
thecarpets.Myjob:tomakethebeds
allsummerforpeoplepassingthroughBijou
onthescenicdrivetoReno,stoppingforanight
attheParadiseMotelonLakeTahoe,
watersopurepeoplepumpitstraight
totheirhouses.Leaningoverarowboat,
youcanseeyourshadowonthebluesand
thirtyfeetdown.Behindthechairthestain
stillshowswhereshescrubbedandbleached.
Petsokay.Myuncleinstructsifcoloredscome
I’mtosayI’msorry,Imusthaveleft
thevacancysignon,we’refull.
Mycousin,whohasfouryearstogethigh,
floatthroughhighschool,become
ajourneymancarpenterwithhisfather,
screamathismother,discoverThoreau,
getengaged,designandbuildahouse,
anddieinQuangTinProvince,
isupstairsstompingto“IWannaHoldYourHand.”
Noone’shome.He’sgoneberserk.
Thehi-fithumpsthewalls.
Myaunttaughtmetuck-and-pull,
sheetsfoldedbackfourinches.
Threehoursamorning,ninetycents.
Ihavetopayheranickeleverytime
Isay“huh?”NightsIwashdishes
atBurgerHeaven,ownedbyCarlJensen,
abeet-facedrightfielderfortheRedSox
untilalinedrivecrushedhisknee.
Hechar-broilsthepattieshimself.
Smokefromburntmeattrailsacross
thehighwayandontothelakewhere
waterskiersleanintolongglasswalls.
Carlhasabatinhisofficeinback,hisname
inscribedinthescuffedbarrel.Peoplefool
withCarl,hesays,Ishowthemthis.
Underthesweatshirtsinmydresser
hidesaspeakerfromtheBijouDrive-in.
Mycousinpoppedtheclutchinhisdad’spick-up,
windowstillrolled,rippedthespeaker
fromitsstand,cordandall,astoryIwilltell
foryears,asifitmeantsomethingbig.
InoneversionLucyJensensitsbetweenus,
herpaleeyeswide,herfingerstight
onmywristasacopchasesus,sirenwailing,
abovethelake,acrossDonnerPassanddown
intoNevada,starssogreenandsilver
intheincandescentdesertairI’vebegun
tobelieveIreallysawthemtracetheirslow
unalterablearcs.Inthisversion,
Idon’tscrapegrease,friesandgobsofcatsup
fromheavywhiteplates,Idon’tmakebeds,
Idon’tchecktoseeifthestain
isstillbehindthechairinunit#7.
InthisversionIdrivemyuncle’sburgundy
GTOconvertible,Ioutrunthecopsalltheway
toCarsonCity,pulloffInterstate80wherewepark
breathlessinthedustthatfollows,
ourheartsbangingtheircagedoors,
andwelaughuntiltearscome.
Fromasaguaroastrangebirdcries.
Aquartermoonsailsandfades.
Noonesaysawordaboutthespeaker
stillonthewindow,itsblacktaildangling.
OntheclimbbacktoCaliforniathesun
flaresinmyeyes.AtseventeenI’moldest,
soIletthemsleep.Thetreeschangeshape,
thelightsharpens,andIknowIwillendure
twolives:oneIinvent—Igiveitawayfreely.
TheotherIrevealhaltingly—eventomyself—
inbitsandpieces.Sometimestheyalign
asthesamestory.Sometimes,thesamelife.
CheckingtheWellGrampalowered
thelongcord
andbulb.
Waydown.
Waydownthewater
madeaperfectmirror.
Aboy’sfacegazedup—
palemoonwithacap.
AmIthatsmall?
Grampasmoked.Hisforehead
glowedlikeorangewax.
Icouldalmostseeinside.
Hetalkedabout
levelsofwater.
Bekindathirsty
comeOctober.
Analderleaf
tumbled.
Rings.
Mossysmell.
Flakesofcementwent
shunkshunk
Echo.
Ifasmallboyfell,
wherewouldhego?
Intohiseyes?
Grampaheldmybelt
andIleaned.
TheNightKidParetwasKilledonTVAgaintheskyhasgonetoseed.
Damnblackberries!
Idodgemyway
throughMrs.Roat’sorchard,
scratched,
imaginingherbigdog.
Eddie?Thatyou?Door’sopen.
Joewatchesthefights,
thebluescreen,sipsanOly.
Jeanstuffsclothes
inthedrier.Iredden
atLinda’sbra
andfilmyunderpants.
Who’sfighting?
Joesays
BennyParetandsomeothernigger.
TheKidistrappedinacorner.
Hardright.
Anotherboomingright.
Thecrowdcomesalive!
Lindasays
YouwannaCoke?
Idon’tcare.Yeah.
TheKid’sheadsnaps,
lollslikeadoll’s.
Solidleft,right.
HisheadshakesNo.
ShakesNo,no.
No.Seven,eighttimes.
Lopinghome,
themoongrowls,
caughtintheteethofadeadfir.
Ifeelmyhead,thenew
softplaces,
fistsofairslamming
somelovelyhumminginmyear.
HelenIseehertearingstrips
fromasheet,tying
sweetpeashootstochickenwire.
HerhairisAsian,wistful,
teasedbyAprilwind.
ShesingsBeautiful,Beautiful
BrownEyes,looksupandwinks
theywayjauntywomendidbackthen.
Thatfallherblossoms
witheredwithouther.
Grandmatookmetotheroom
ofthedeadsmell.
Proppedbypillows,Helen
grinned,shrunken,thebleached
branchofherlegexposed,
nakedtothethigh.
Onthebedsidestandwerepills,
Kleenexandapapercup.
Shefumbledwithlipstick,
pokedinplacethelastwisps
ofherhair,winkedandrasped,
Heythere,good-lookin’.
Shetriedtolightacigarette.
Grandmahadtosteady
herdanglingwrist.
It’sakick,Erm,shewheezed.
Ain’titakick?
Redstainedheryellowteeth.
Whatbecameofthemaroon
Schwinn,chromeandcreamtrim,
IgotthatChristmas?
Whereisthesnow
Itriedtorideitin?
Fromherkitchen,
Grandmastudiedthesky’s
graysheetsfoldandfold.
It’sSundayforever,foreverJuly.
Morningisagirl’sdress
floatingoverhouses,trees.
Itiemyownsweetpeas
tochickenwire,
leanforwardtowaterthem
andenteraroomthecolor
ofhospitalbroth.
Igrewtheseforyou.
Letmefillyourcup.
Helen,whyareyoudying?
Openyoureyes.It’sme.
RightFieldNokidIkneweverhitareallylongball—
toleft,maybe,butnottomyisland,
myabandonedkingdominright.
I’dpickdandelions,
rubspitinmyglove,
studythefrayedlacing.
EventhenIwaswaitingforsomething:
acloud,rain,ahugecrowtoflutter
ontothediamondandliftme
beyondthedullacheinmyribs.
Theywereahead,noouts.
Idreamedofawarmpurplelakeand
thwack,
aballbegantorisetowarddeeprightcenter.
Nooneknewaboutmyappendicitis,
notmymother,andnotmycoach,
Mr.GlenBitterbender,
thefirstgrownmanIheardutter,
“Jesus,haveagotahard-on!”
Thatballclimbedtheafterdinnersky,
peakedasawavesurgedthroughme.
GlenBitterbenderbellowed,
“Hustle,youlittlebastard!”
Isprinted,howling,mygutonfire.
Therunneratthirdwaltzedin;
behindhimjoggedtheguyfromsecond.
Inthatexpanseofparchedgrass,
myanklefoundthelonesprinklerhead.
Ididthisdanceofdeath,
tribal,aninsanecontortion.
Theballdroppedlikeameteor,
smackedmyleftbigtoe.
I’llneverknowhowIgotmyglovedownthere,
neverevenfeltitslapthepocket.
“Tosecond!”thecoachbarked.
“Throwthedamnthingtosecond.”
Ilobbeditinontwohopsforthedouble,
andfromsecondtherelayandforceatthird.
Tripleplay.
Wedidn’twinthatgame.
Wedidn’twinanygame.
Aftermysurgery,CoachBitterbender
broughtmethreelemoncupcakes.
Nextseasonhecalled,hisvoicecracking,
totellmeI’dbeencut.
Theseasonafter,
drowsinginhisrecliner,
sportspagedrapedacrosshiseyes,
hishearttoreloosefromitswornstitching.
Onceagain,
throughthesummerdusk,
highabovethebackstop,
abovethestubbyhemlocksalongFremontAvenue,
theball,mysecretstar,isrising.
IgotitIgotit
Andthemothers—notmine—
jumpfromtheirfoldingchairstocheer
thepaleboytheythoughttoosmalltoplay.
Theywatchmehobblein,nimble,
clutchingmyside.
Myfaceisamask.
Paintomeisnormal,awayoflife.
GlenBitterbenderpatsmycheek.
“Sweet,Eddie.Nowthatwassweet.”
Ishakemystinginghandandgrin.
FlyingFortress:MyFatherSurvivestheWarIimaginetheroarassilent
aftersevenhoursinthesky
overAustriaorDresden,
theFortsinstackedformations
ofahundredlumberingbombers
withpayloadsoffivehundredpounders.
Everyairmaniscertainthisisnot
themorningwhiteflackexploding
frombeloworblackflackraining
fromabovewillsliceafuelline
orshatterapilot’sfaceorneatly
amputateanaluminumwing
andsendelevencrewmenspiraling
likeIcaruscrazedbythesun.
Ifhit,myfatherhadnowayout.
Hisparachutewouldn’tfitinside
theturret—hisplexiglassworld
spikedwith.50cal.machineguns,
anopentargetforanyMesserschmit
flashingthroughkeyholesintheclouds.
Theydidthisalwayslikebees
aswarmofbeesononeSundaymorning
inparticularoverBerlin,
he19andsweatinginhisheatedsuit,
theplanejoltedfromartillery
hecouldnotsee,onlysee
inalldirectionshisdeath,fuck,
after33missions,thewar
almostoverandluck’sgone.
Seethecurvedhorizon,
puffsofdustfivemilesbelow
wherebombshit,a17totheleft
breakinhalf,nochutes.
Okay.Okay.GoodbyeMom,Pop—
theMesserschmitshowlastheypass
fallingbacktopickoffstragglers
lostorlowonfuel,hisownship
pitching,bombsawaylikebabiescradle
andall,himsqueezingthetriggers—
Didhehitone?—theygleamlikeknives—
JesusifYoulovemeshowYourself
theshipturningblindtowardthesun
squeezethetriggersturnyousonofabitch
specksofsunlight
spikingthefuselageperforated
fromburstsofbitsofmetal.
Iwillbebornandhearthesefragments,
howtheskyopenedoncemore,
howtheGermanfightersvanished,
scatteredbyasquadronofTuskeegeeAirmen.
Theyescortedthe17shome
acrossthescallopedAdriatic,
abovetheAlpswheremanyships
onearlierrunswentdowninfog.
Inhisred-tailedP-51,oneTuskeegeeflyer
pulledasidemyfather’sbomber.
Dadtookoffhisoxygen.
Sodidtheotherflyer.
Dadwaved,gavethumbsup.
Thefighterpilot—amanwithkindeyes
isallmyfatherrecalls—
nodded,tippedhiswingsandflewaway
asthebaseinFoggiacameintoview.
Dadmadeithome,married,
livedhislifeincontraryAmerica.
Ineveraskedhimdidhekillpeopleinthewar.
Hedid.Whowashissavior?
OvertheAlps,blocksofice
spangledlikebrokenbluecities.
Inthatworldabovethisone
thefourPratt&Whitneysdroned.
Upthereheglimpsedhissaviorforamoment—
aguyfromAlabama—theclosest
toablackfriendmyfatherevergot.
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