The True Tale of the Monster Billy Dean (2 page)

Now the vishon cums & I see the woman & the boy befor me in the littl room. Much tym has passd sins he wos the bayby on the bed. Hes a littl boy. Hes sittin by the tabl on a chare & shes behynd him & the sunlites shinin down on them from the sqare abuv. Shes taking a towel from his sholders now & tippin the snippdoff hare into the toylet & flushing it away.

He smiles & runs his fingers across the new sharp luvly stubbl on his templs & his nek.

Thatll do she tels him. Billys bak to bonnynes agen.

She kisses his cheke. She smyls. But look cloasly. Her eyes ar tyrd. She sags a bit. Tyms alredy started takin its toll on her.

He sees a mows runnin along the bottom of the warl. Then anotha. He poynts he wayvs he sqweeks he laffs.

Mows! he crys. Mows! Eek eek! Eek eek!

She laffs as well. She says she wishes she cud do sumthing abowt them. But wots to do? Blinkbonnys riddld with them. And it cud be wors. It cud be rats. Dont encuraj them Billy.

Eek eek! he gose. Eek eek!

She siys. Dont she says. She givs him a cup of lucozayd & she givs him a biscit. She says shes got to go owt to cut & styl & trim. She kisses him & leevs & loks the dore behynd her.

By by he wispers. By by.

I go closer as I rite. Its lyk seein a gost of myself. Its lyk bein in the afterlyf & tryin to contact a spirit & bring it bak agen. I cud almost tuch myself.

Billy, I wisper. Billy.

He dusnt moov of cors. Dusnt flinch. Sqweeks lyk a mows then crowches by the warl & crumbls the biscit & baks away & watches the nervos mise cum cloaser to nibbl & ete.

Billy, I wisper. Billy.

Dus he here me? He gose ded stil. He looks arownd.

Dont be afrade I say.

Its just me, I say. Its just you.

He blinks & shayks his hed.

Eek eek! He crumbls the biscit. Eek eek!

I dont want to scair him so I speke no mor to him but I cant leev him.

And the pensil keeps on movin & I keep on riting.

I rite thees things of memry & of luv. The green carpet with the red & yello flowers on it. The walls with the grate craks & gowjes in them. The crumblin seelin with the fine roots growin down throu it. The littl windo to the sky. The lockd dore wich is the dore I must never go throu. Yes even that is a thing of luv. I stair into the grane of it & the cracks in its fraym & I see tiny worms & beetls that liv in it.

I rite the bed with the red cova on it.

The littl bluw sofa.

The pitchers on the wall. I gaze into thees pitchers now. They sho the Holy Iland. I remember how Mam told me that the iland was like a littl bit of Heven. It was a plase were sayntes wons warkd. It was a plase that sumtyms floted on the water & sumtyms rested on the land. She yoosd to say that we wud go ther togetha 1 fine day.

I gaze at the sea the sand the cassel on its rok. I see the bonny puffins flyin in the air in littl groops. I look for the beest calld a seal that pops its hed up in the warter. I look at the upsyd down botes. They ar paynted blak & they hav dores in them. Mam yoosd to tel me that pepl livd in thees botes & at nite the botes flew upsyd down across the stars. I yoosd to laff at that & wunder wot on erth she was on abowt. For ther was no way for me to understand. The pitchers had no meanin for me just as the words abowt them had no meanin for me.

I turn and look at him agen. His eyes ar blank & emty lyk an emty paje.

Shes ryt, I wisper. The iland is byutiful & it is reely lyk a littl bit of Hevan. And yes pepl liv in the botes & yes they fly across the stars at nite.

He stares into the empty air as if hes lookin for the plays the voys cums from.

Beleev her Billy, I wisper. For her words ar trew.

The mise scamper & the world terns & the day drifts by.

I cant leev.

I no shell be bak soon. Shes neva gon mor than an hour or 2. Shell cook a cupl of Mr McCaufreys best pork sossijes or 1 of Mr McCaufreys piys.

I hear swete singin and I luk up to the windo to the sky & there are sparras there. Billy luks up too. He laffs & stretches his arms towards the birds. O how wonderful & nesesary they wer. They caym to the windo. They droppd from the sky. They fluterd ther wings & wistld & sang & they peckd with ther beaks on the glass lyk they wer carlin me. I wistld bak & I stretchd my arms to them just as Billy the boy dos now.

Sumtyms Mam lifted me up & I wud reech towards them & she wud laff and say go on son. Carl the burds & sing at them.

Sumtyms in days of hete & lite she opend the glass with a pole & the windo hung down & the lite & the air pord down on me. And the songs of the burds pord down on me & the songs wer byutiful. Some of the burds caym tym & agen. Ther wos a blak blak skwawkin crow a bunch of cheepin spuggys a pare of pijons that cood & tilted there heds & eyes at me. Mam said they caym cos I wos a good boy. She said they wer my frends & that they caym with messajes and greetins to me.

Wot messajes I askd.

Messajes of hope & luv she anserd.

Look at how he stairs upwards at how I staird upwards. He stands & spreds his arms & is entransd & O how I remember that entransment.

I no he dremes at nite of risin to the littl sqare windo & cliymin owt & bein with the burds & flyin up into the sky. I stil dreme that dreme. I stil imajin risin to the sky. Mebbe evrybody dremes that dreme. Mebbe non of us think that standin & warkin on the world is enuf for us. Evrybody wants to rise. Even a littl boy in a littl lockd room with waste & wilderness arl arownd.

The key is turnin in the lok agen. He turns his eyes down from the birds & the sky.

She cums in agen. She sits with him agen. They ete sossijes & darkness starts to farl & soon its nite.

He lissens. Thers crekes & craks & owls & a far off groanin & a jentl thuddin. Thers a littl suden clik & clak nereby & he catches his breth & stiffens & trembls a bit. He looks with wyd eyes at the lockd dore.

And so dus she for a littl instant.

But its not his daddy not tonite.

The nites of his daddy cumin ar gettin fewer & far betwene. Alredy his mammy sumtyms wispers that the daddys a buggerin bluddy bastad sod. Alredy shes startin to say that 1 day therll just be Billy & her & no 1 else.

Billy dusnt want to hear that dusnt want to no that dusnt want to beleev it.

This is how it wos at the best of tyms.

She nos that he wil cum.

Daddys on his way, she tells her boy. He will be with us tonite.

He grins & trembls & repeets her words & looks up to the sky & wishes it to darken darken.

She roles up her sleevs & brushes & cleens Billys room. She polishes the pitchers & the dore & scrubs the toylet & the bath. She brushes the sofa & the bed. She plugs the mows holes with rolld up paypa. She sings as she works.

Tonite ther wil be no mornin star.

All things brite & byutiful arl creechers grate & smarl.

Shes all smiles & kisses & cuddls & words abowt how byutiful & strong her boy is & how lucky she is to hav such a boy & such a fyn strong man. And abowt how the boy wil gro to be just as fine & just as strong & just as wonderful.

Wont that be a thing, she says. To grow up to be just lyk Daddy Billy Dean.

And the sun passes throu the sky & heds for afternoon.

She cleans the boy hisself in his bath. Washes his hare and trims & brushes it & puts the brilcreem on. Dresses him in nete clene clowths & tels him sit stil on the sofa.

Stay nete & tidy, she says. Be good.

And leevs him. And now her singin is in the warls just beyond the lockd dore & beyond the pitchers of the iland.

He looks up at the sky.

Darken, he wishes. Darken darken. Let owls be ther in plays of sparras. Let stars replase the sun.

In she cums agen & shes so pritty & so yung. She wers a wite & bluw dress with flowas on it. Her hares arl brushd & shyning & her eyes gleem & shes wering perfyoom & red nale polish & blusha & maskara. Thers a red choka rownd her nek. She puts 2 glasses & a cup & a ashtray on the taybl. She sits besyd her boy but she cant kepe still. She taps her fete & tuches her hare & inspects her nales.

They both kepe lookin at the sky & tellin it to darken darken.

And it darkens.

And she switches on a littl liyt.

And she kisses Billy & leevs him.

Very soon, she says.

And Billy waits.

A good boy sitting on the sofa waytin for his Dad.

And tym passes slo as slo & slo as slo & he kepes lookin up & wishin the nite to stay & stay.

Then at last the click & clack & the turnin loks & the openin dore.

And O Im bak ther as he entas. O here he cums. Hes tarl. Nerly as tarl as the dore. Hes arl in blak & his hare is dark as deepest nite & his eyes are bluw as summa sky. He cums strate to me pulls me up & holds me in his arms & asks me.

Hows my lad? Hows Billy Dean?

I stamma stutta carnt get owt a word.

Hes doin fine Wilfred, says Mam.

Aaa, he growls. I see that. I see how big & fyn hes growin. Look at thees mussels. How cum yore gettin to be so strong & fyn?

Tell yor Daddy, says Mam.

But still I gasp & stamma & cant mayk words.

Daddy laffs. He kisses me. Thers the sent of sigarets on him & the sents of candls & of insens & of aftashayv. His hands so clene and strong & his arms so big & firm as he cuddls me & cuddls me.

No nede to be shy of yor father, boy! he says.

Hes brout a bottl of red wyn or of wisky or of jin & sum lemonayd for me.

We arl drink togetha on the sofa.

Dad tayks owt a pak of blak sigarets with golden shinin tips on them. He tels me that ther from far far away from a plase carld Rusha. He smoaks with Mam & the smoke rises & the weard sent of it fills the room. He puts his arm rownd Mam & they wisper & giggl & drink & smoak & look so happy to my eyes.

And sumtyms thers tayls & storys lyk the tayl of Moses flotin down a riva in a baskit or of Noa & his ark or of Jona gettin swollowd by a wale or of Jesus wanderin in the wildanes & getin temted by Satin. And O Im bak ther as I rite it now. Im ther on the sofa with ther bodys & ther sents & ther wisperin & laffter. And the tayls ar such a mistry to me. Whats a riva whats a baskit wats a wildaness who is Satin? And what ar arl those other things & other playses & other beings that he tarks of. What can I no or understand of Hevan or of Hel or Purgatry or Limbo? How can I understand the noshon of an aynjel or a saynte? But the mistry dusnt matta. I luv his voys I luv him nere me luv the way the storys move acros his lips & throu the air and into my ere & into my brain. & even now despyt evrything I go on lovin him & lovin him & lovin him & thinkin of him brings the memrys of him porin bak.

This is the tym I first tuchd his woonds. He held his left hand befor me. It had the first & second finga missin from it. He poynted with his thum to the curvd scar abuv his rite eye. And he drew me close to him & he took my yung fingas & told me to tuch the scar wer his fingas used to be. And I did & I remember the smoothnes & softnes of it.

This is new skin, he told me. Its skin as new as you yorself Billy. Its skin that started to be formd on the day of destrucshon the day of yor birth.

And he put my fingas to the ridj of skin abuv his eye as wel. He giyded me acros the scars.

Tuch jently Billy, he said. Can you feel?

Yes Daddy.

Can you imajin?

Imajin what Daddy?

Imajin what cud do a thing like this?

I lookd into his eyes. He smyld & shook his hed.

Of cors you cant he wisperd. These marks are the marks of evil dun by men. And you no nothing of such things. Do you?

No, I anserd.

No. Of cors you dont.

Sudenly my hed began to reel & the hole room seemd to reel & I staggerd & fel down towards the flor & I herd a howlin that seemd from far far off but also from sumwer deep deep insyd & ther came suden gasps & littl crys & thumps & thuds & much comoshon insyd myself. It wos like evrything wos fallin like evrything insyd cud brake apart. And I felt my throte begin to gasp & my tung begin to flap & my mowth gaypd oapen & I calld owt in a voys that wos nothin like my own O help me help me help me!

Then just darkness silens stilness emtiness.

Then I cum owt of it.