The Stager: A Novel (25 page)

“No, it’s just that I didn’t ever think about rabbits having religion. Also, I didn’t know you were a screenwriter. And, no offense, but since we seem to be speaking freely, I just want to say that if you’re a screenwriter it sounds like you’re kind of a hack.”

“I’d take offense if I wasn’t feeling so mellow right now. Here, have a cup of tea. I insist.”

Weirdly, I haven’t noticed until just now that he has a little table set up, with a teapot and two cups, painted in cabbage roses, resting in saucers.

“You have Bella’s china!”

“She won’t mind. I borrowed a few things. That crazy Stager woman working in your house, she put it in boxes anyway, so I figured you didn’t want it anymore.”

“That belonged to Bella’s grandmother.”

“Don’t have a coronary, Lars. I said I’d just borrowed it. Anyway, quality tea demands quality china. And this is not just any tea, my friend, this is Unfurlings Tea. Totally organic. No sugar, either, not that you look like someone who cares. But I’m telling you, you’ll see the world in a whole new way.”

“Thanks, but I’m more of a coffee drinker. I’m really into the new Blonde Roasts. Anyway, I’m already feeling pretty mellow. I can almost see the light, I’m getting so close, even right now, here in the dark … which reminds me, I have a question for you. Well, a few, really.”

“Fire away.”

“Well, this isn’t really my main question, but how did you even make the tea? I mean, like, actually
make
the tea. Because we seem to be in a field, and I don’t see a stove. Or even a campfire. Or a kettle. But I smell food.”

“Seriously,
that’s
your question? When I’m in the position to answer so many more important things? If a genie gave you one wish, would you ask for a hamburger?”

“Maybe. I’m pretty hungry right now, so maybe I’d ask for a platter with fries and a milkshake.”

“Get serious, Lars. Aren’t you the least bit curious to know how it is you are talking to me?”

“Ah, that. No. I’m all over that one. The ability to converse with you is one of the lesser-known side effects of mixing too many medications containing the letters
x
and
z
, but if you read the footnote of the fine print down where it refers to omniscience, it does suggest, in so many words, that if you take more than a thousand milligrams of Praxisis combined with seven tiny bottles of gin and then, from thirty-three thousand feet, you see your wife standing in front of the house of Raymond Branch, who may or may not be the father of your child, and who you thought was actually ancient history—your wife told you that much, again and again—and then, and then, well, then you order a few more gins—then it is not at all unreasonable to think you might find yourself standing in a field, talking to the family pet, who seems, the more he talks, to be stoned. Were you always stoned, or am I just noticing this now? Because something about this feels weirdly normal.”

“Well, you heard Bella say that your definition of normal has become rather elastic. And, no, I was never stoned at your house, although I would have had a better time of it had I been. It’s the tea.”

“How did you know about that conversation? You weren’t even there. And if you know everything, can you explain to me everyone’s fascination with that Raymond cad?”

“You’re transparent, man. You’ve got so much transparency flowing, it’s like you’re permeable. I can see right through you. You’re just jealous of that guy. He can write, he can make things rhyme. Women like shit like that. But he’s kind of mean, or at least a little cutting. I once heard him comment on Bella’s weight.”

“Bella? She’s perfect. I’m going to go beat him up … Okay, really, please don’t start choking again.”

“I’d like to buy a ringside seat for that! I’m telling you, but you’re not listening, that if you had some tea you might actually have the power to do that. Anyway, this is no longer optional. I insist. It’s part of why I brought you out here to our control center. We’re doing some tests before we start selling it commercially. Whole Foods is interested in being an investor, which would be a huge coup. Also, the lady in that house over there, she’s a real sweetheart, she might be able to get them to sell some of her baked goods, which would be great. She’s a good person, just down on her luck.”

“Okay, if you insist. I am thirsty, and maybe if we put some sugar in the tea, that will help with my hunger. I should probably try to sit up, but … well, it seems I can’t. What are you talking about, anyway? What lady? Did you say baked goods? Is that what I smell?”

“Yes. Marta—she’s living in that model home right there. Her husband, he returned from Afghanistan last year and he’s wrecked even worse than you, man. I mean, you’re just wrecked in the head, and a little in the knees, but this guy lost a leg and he’s out of his mind. He thinks she was fooling around with his friend, and in fact he did beat him up. And he beat her up, too. She had to leave, and she took the kids. She’s been living here for about six months now. But don’t tell him.”

“Seriously? Man, that’s bad stuff. Was she actually fooling around with his friend?”

“Who cares? You humans, you get totally tripped up by the whole fidelity thing.”

“Okay, well, look, I hear you. It shouldn’t be important. I keep telling myself that. But it’s hard to get over, especially when you mix in the DNA question.”

“Yeah, but, really, is it so important? I mean, look at me: My mother had seven hundred and fifty-six related offspring in one mating season. It could have been seven hundred and fifty-five but we were never sure if my sister Lakshmi was part of the fifth litter or if she just got lost and wound up in our brood; we let her in anyway, and my mother raised her like one of her own, which is the way it should be. And we’re all close, or we were close until I was kidnapped by some hustler who sold me on Craigslist, but that’s another story. Do you think my mother cared that she never even knew the names of half the fathers? I mean, at the end of the day, we’re all rabbits, right? Two ears, cute little tails. We hop.”

“Bravo for you. But we’re not rabbits. Maybe the fact that we care about these things is what makes us the higher beings.”

“No, actually, I read somewhere that it has to do with sweat. Animals that sweat—like you—can outrun animals that pant, like me, so, in pure Darwinian terms, that makes you the boss. It’s all about sweat.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. Over distance and time you might outsprint me.”

“That’s not entirely the point, Lars. Your higher beingness is certainly not about brains or good judgment, because frankly, in this day and age, do you really expect me to believe you don’t know who Elsa’s father is? That not a single one of you knows? If I had to bet, I’d put my money on Raymond rather than Guillermo. Or you. Raymond’s a shady character, a bit of a rapid breeder himself. This ain’t the first place he’s left his mark, if you know what I mean. Also, I mean, come on, Lars, let’s just face reality. Haven’t you noticed your daughter has his cleft chin?”

“Maybe. But you know this gene stuff can be confusing. There’s, like, dominant traits and recessive traits. You just never know what’s going on. My grandfather might have had a cleft chin. Anyway, how do you know about Raymond and Guillermo?”

“You keep asking me the same question over and over. How do
you
know what you know?”

“I read some e-mails. Plus, someone sent me a messed-up Facebook message.”

“Ah, well, that’s a little more pedestrian. Me, I just … know. And once you get this tea flowing, you’ll know, too. A little advice, my friend, is that shining some light on this might help. You’ve got, what, four highly educated people involved here—although I take that back, who knows if the baseball player can even spell his own name—but you’re all pretending you don’t know who the father is? All you have to do is take a piece of Elsa’s hair down to Walgreens.”

“I think that’s oversimplifying how it works, but I get your drift. Still, at the end of the day, what’s the point? It’s not like I’m going to walk away if I find out she’s not my kid. I mean, maybe I would have left if I’d found out at the start, but to learn this now? What do you even do with that information?”

“That’s what I’m saying, man. You have to transcend this stuff. Plus, there are some problems you can’t solve on the ground. You’ve just got to take some of this stuff to another level. That’s what the philosophy shit is all about.”

“Oh, you’re not just a talking stoner rabbit, now you’re a philosopher rabbit?”

“Tea. Tea. Tea.”

“It’s still too hot. I think it’s better to just live in denial. You know, to hold on to the possibility that she is mine.”

“Oh, like you’re doing so well with that decision.”

“Well, you say that like you’d know what to do.”

“Hop away while you still can.”

“It’s complicated. I love Bella and she loves me. I forgive her.”

“Maybe you forgive too much. If she loved you, would she continue to cheat on you? Maybe she just loves herself. Maybe she loves you because you’re an adjunct to her own self.”

“How would you know anything about this? You’re a nasty rabbit who doesn’t seem to have any love in him. You don’t understand what you’re talking about. Bella feels terrible about what happened, and I know she loves me, and that’s why she takes such good care of me. But it’s true, I can’t deny it, the whole thing is wrecking me. Sometimes I feel like I’m bleeding to death. You can keep telling yourself the whole thing shouldn’t matter—you have a beautiful family and a nice life—and yet it’s a hard thing to live with. Sometimes I feel like I’ve really fallen down the rabbit hole.”

“Watch it, okay? I get really tired of all of the innuendo. You guys are so sensitive to anything that appears to be racist or sexist or ethnically offensive, and then look at all the speciesist rabbit slurs.”

“Why, what did I say? I open up my heart to you, and then you attack!”

“Oh, don’t get me started. You even insult the way we live. Like a rabbit hole is some dark place.”

“I’m not familiar with the deeper meaning of that expression. You forget I grew up in Sweden.”

“And let’s not get started on the whole fertility thing, Playboy bunnies—so offensive! It’s true, yes, we are rapid breeders, like your Raymond friend, and just how rapid is a little embarrassing, and not something I particularly want to discuss, given that I haven’t had much activity myself for three years. Also, now that I’ve broken out, I just learned that twenty-seven of my siblings were eaten by badgers.”

“Oh, Dominique, that’s bad. My condolences.”

“Duly noted. Thanks.”

“And the other thing I want to say—and I don’t expect you to understand—but I’m staying for Elsa’s sake. She’s a fragile kid, and these things can really…”

“Oh, please, Lars. Elsa is the strongest point in your tepee. She’s about ten times more together than you or your wife. I think you’ll see this if you just step back. And one thing that is going to help you with the clarity is the tea. I’m only going to say this one more time, Lars. Drink your tea.”

“It’s still too hot.”

“Blow on it.”

“I’m blowing. Do you have some ice?”

“Does it look like I’ve got a freezer out here, man? Do you have a screw loose? Here, I’m going to pour some down your gut. Open up. Let’s just raise your head a bit. Okay … isn’t that good?”

“It’s not bad. A little more … You’re spilling it on my shirt.”

“Not to worry. It evaporated already. Listen, since we’re friends, and I’m feeling so mellow, and, really, Lars, I’m just so fond of you—I mean, we’ve been together a long time, you and me—can I talk to you frankly?”

“I think we’ve been pretty frank already, don’t you?”

“Let me just say this: there’s such a thing as being a little too patient. As my grandfather used to say…”

“I don’t think your grandfather thought of that himself.”

“I didn’t even say what it is yet, man. Look at us, we’re totally mind-melding! I was going to tell you it’s a losers’ game. We’re all playing a losers’ game. You’re just losing more than most.”

“This tea is a little … weird.”

“Weird is good. Yes? So you see, Lars? Are you getting ready to do something? Are you ready to change your life?”

“Yes. Yes, I am, Mr. Rabbit. What’s in this tea?”

“Remember back when you were a kid and you smoked some hash that your cousin Pieter got from his Pakistani friend and you could totally understand each other without even using words?”

“Exactly. How did you know that?”

“For God’s sake, Lars.”

“Oh yeah, the transparency Vulcan mind-meld stuff.”

“Interestingly, I never watched
Star Trek,
but I know the reference.”

“It’s getting so advanced that it’s like we’ve reached another level. It’s like … we’re beyond mind-meld. I think we’re actually one.”

“We are, man. We are. Listen, Lars, I think you should try a little harder to sit up.”

“I’m trying. I’m really trying, but I can’t seem to move anything but my hands.”

“Here, let me give you a little help. Whoa! I see the problem, man. You’re bleeding. Didn’t you just say you were bleeding to death? And you are! Put your hand here to stanch the wound. What’s this wet, squishy thing? Is it a kidney or a liver or an intestine of some sort? I don’t really know the human anatomy very well.”

“Good God! You’re right. I think it’s my spleen. It seems to have fallen out!”

“Your spleen? I’ve never heard of a spleen. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much: you look like you have a lot of blood to spare, so a little letting is probably good. Just think of it as lightening your load.”

ELSA

The Stager is back in our house very early Saturday morning, even though she’s a thief. Don’t ask me how she pulled it off, but she talked her way out of it, made up a story about the pig having been in her bag only because it had been a convenient place to stick it when she had her hands full and needed to move it to the table on the third-floor landing.

“Why in the world would I steal this silly little pig? With all of the beautiful objects in this house, would this be the thing I’d risk my job to take?” That’s what the Stager asked, and Nabila thought she had a good point, so don’t ask me how this is possible, but
I
wind up being the one who gets in trouble. Nabila warns me to be careful next time; she says that, where she comes from, accusing someone of being a thief might result in chopping off her arm.