Things Withered (33 page)
Authors: Susie Moloney
—
completely naked and his feet oh god help me
—
and he was eating grass. All around his mouth there were smears and tiny cuttings of sweet new grass. I could almost smell it, the way she described it.
What about his feet
? I asked.
It took some time to unravel the order in which things had happened. Many times I thought she might cry, but to her credit, she never did. It lent to her credibility. I don’t think it was easy for her.
Josie Tubman had seen Hazel in her backyard a week earlier—not long at all after our new neighbour moved in—weeping. Josie was going to ask her what the matter was; even though she wasn’t exactly friendly with her, it’s hard to watch a person crying like that.
Weepin lak a mudderless chile
—she told me.
But what really got Josie’s attention, what made Josie come and tell me the thing, was that Hazel in the midst of her weeping pulled her blouse off and wrapped it around her eyes. She said they were burning. Screamed it, actually. To no one in particular.
Josie knows it’s my neighbourhood, too.
Hazel hadn’t said anything about this to Cuthbert. Hadn’t told her doctor. Hadn’t said a word to Josie, of course. But Hazel told
me
why she wanted Josie’s granddaughter off her lawn. On the surface anyway, it was nice of her, really.
But it was
just me
she told. She finally told me why she’d been yelling at that poor little girl to get her the hell off her lawn.
She might get got.
And here we are, now.
Hazel, you have to pull yourself together
.
She nods. The tea in her cup is gone, but there is still more in the pot. She’s not crying or weeping in any way that Josie might call a
mudderless chile
. She’s not doing anything. She’s very still and sitting at my table. In her lap she has her hands clutched, like an old woman who’s on the last turn of the ride and has already seen everything—in this case, a guy with a tail.
Come on Hazel
, I say.
I can see her swallow and then she reaches for her tea cup, but it’s empty. Very calmly—and I see her hands are shaking—she pours herself just a mouthful and then drinks it.
It’s okay. Everything’s okay
, I tell her. I think I’m smiling. I’m thinking in my head that Cuthbert works somewhere in the north end. I would need the name of the business to get the phone number and I’m not sure where; but I know his wife is a teacher named Sarah, and she teaches near where they live. I know where they live. I can find them if I have to.
She stands reluctantly, slowly. She’s probably tired. All the talking, I’m betting it’s the most talking she’s done in a long time, holed up in that house as long as she has been, and then this neighbour thing. She looks around my house and I know she wishes she could just stay in here forever.
At the door, I’m thinking she’s sorry that she told me. Everything has a price.
I take her arm and we cross the street together. As we do, I feel our whole lives in this neighbourhood flash through my mind. As we step up onto the curb on the other side of the street, I feel so close to her. I almost love her. I give her arm a companionable squeeze. Together, we walk over to the new neighbour’s house.
He sees us. He’s in the backyard. He comes toward us, using a rag to wipe something off his hands. He wears a ball cap at an odd angle, jeans and a t-shirt, like one of the young men from the J. Crew catalogue. I am stricken by how handsome he is.
I smile.
Hazel stiffens beside me and I absentmindedly pat her arm. I nod.
It’s okay
, I think without saying.
It’s okay now.
When he is close I look down at his feet. They are covered in sneakers, but there’s something odd about them, and a suburban part of me screams that I shouldn’t stare. I do, though, because I’m an old woman and I can do as I please.
His feet are round.
Hazel has gone stiff as a board beside me.
It’s okay.
I say it, but it comes out in some other language, one she will not know.
I look up and he’s smiling. I smile back, broadly, happily. He’s just so very handsome.
Hazel
,
I say even though I know she’s gone hollow inside.
This is my friend.
His name is Legion.
I move away from her because I want to see this final step.
He keeps smiling, a calm, warm smile that comes from his eyes and he reaches out to her, pointing his finger, like you might at a child. He taps the end of her nose very gently.
Poke
.
It’s not loud, but I hear her groan. I can also hear the shriek of her soul, but really, I think I could hear it before. I’ve been dreaming of it.
He’s still smiling, even as Hazel crumbles at his feet, very dead. His teeth are white and even. Just behind him I can see his tail shudder happily. It’s thick and naked like a beautiful dark penis. His eyes are blue.
He’s a handsome devil.
I’m done and I know that. I go back across the street. I admit I am spent, like I used to be after hours in bed with Dan or the new neighbour, only in another form, of course, many years ago.
I’ll call an ambulance and Cuth of course.
I’m a good neighbour.
I can’t help it. I am stuck now, going over the past. Everything that’s happened in the neighbourhood keeps running through my mind. It all comes back to that first day. Hazel never should have asked that terrible thing. The thing she said on the day we met.
Are they normal? This one and the one on the way? Are they normal?
I bet she wishes she hadn’t.
I also bet Rita wishes she had kept her goddamn guns away from Dan. I bet.
Terry and her uppity ways about what women should be doing with their time.
And Hazel. Oh Hazel. She set herself up. What was I to do? Look a gift horse in the mouth? I wasn’t raised that way. I also didn’t sell my soul for that. Not to be pedantic, but she brought it on herself.
In fact I realize I don’t feel bad about any of it. I am relieved. Maybe the little dog.
Peanuts.
And Tommy. Ah, Tommy. Of course it was supposed to be Rita. Wind velocity. Oh well. We do our best, but I think I feel bad about that, too. Maybe.
Who names a dog Peanuts? Is it supposed to be plural?
I sit in my kitchen and wait. Everything is done. I listen for sirens. I don’t mind sirens.
NTRODUCTION
TO
T
HE
S
UBURBANIGHT
I’ve always thought there was a great deal of potential for unwholesomeness in isolated relationships, particularly duos. I’m not alone: the
folie à deux
is a classic literary trope, not to mention a common disorder in murderous couples.
Familial relationships are so vulnerable to dysfunction, bound as they are not by lust, but by love and actual
blood
. There are also those many, many hours of the day and night when families are trapped together not only in square footage, but in a kind of
folie à deux
where the outside world is suspect, if only because that inside world is secret.
I write a little film and television in my other life, and frequently write both stories and scripts just for fun. This is one of the few that I would like to see on a screen, because it’s some seriously fun shit.
The Suburbanight
by Susie Moloney
IN BLACK
THE SOUND OF A LAWN MOWER
FADE IN:
EXT. PLEASANT AVE. A NICE SUBURBAN STREET -- DAY
Pleasant Avenue appears empty and deserted, or still and peaceful, except for a man who mows his lawn. MR. PETERSON resolutely cuts a seemingly already trim lawn.
The lawn mower hits something and at least part of the thing goes flying out.
He stops the lawn mower, bends down to see what he’s hit.
He picks it up. It’s a piece of a child’s toy shark. He looks next door, the only place it could have come from.
EXT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- CONTINUOUS
The Lefler house is much like the others, but on bong. The grass is too long, it needs a coat of paint and there is a sense of disorder to it.
Mr. Peterson walks up the walk to the front door.
He rings the bell. He puts his ear close to the door and listens to what happens inside.
INT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- CONTINUOUS
The Lefler house is untidy, like the outside of the house, but there is a good, lived-in feel to it. There are some toys scattered about, a pair of fuck-me pumps beside the basket of laundry, crayons, a child’s drawings on the fridge.
A large black dog, a lab, reclines on the floor in front of the door. His head is up and facing the sound, but he doesn’t move or bark. He seems a pleasant dog, not menacing.
The doorbell resonates through the house, and nothing stirs.
EXT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- CONTINUOUS
Mr. Peterson rings again. No one comes to the door.
Pissed off, he puts the toy piece into the breast pocket of his shirt in a way that suggests he will, indeed, return.
EXT. PLEASANT AVE. A NICE SUBURBAN STREET -- LATER
The sun sets on suburbia.
The Lefler house is dark, and then the lights come on.
A SMALL ANIMAL SQUEAKS
ARIA (O.S.)
Stewart! Feed the pigs.
INT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- CONTINUOUS
Several guinea pigs shuffle over one another in a large cage in a child’s bedroom.
The little boy is STEWART LEFLER, about 8. He’s cute, maybe small for his age, fair and elegant.
INT. THE LEFLER KITCHEN -- CONTINUOUS
Stewart opens the fridge. Inside the fridge are dark containers of unknown foods, but the fridge is mostly empty. We get only a glimpse of this, however, because Stewart grabs a Tupperware container and closes the fridge.
He carries it across the kitchen to his bedroom.
INT. STEWART’S BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS
He opens the container and puts bits of vegetable into the cage for the guinea pigs. The pigs squeak and complain and eat the food.
The black dog, TANSY, is beside him and watches this process.
Stewart puts the lid on the container and watches them for a moment.
ARIA (O.S.)
It’s movie night.
STEWART
I know. Can we watch anything? Anything we want?
Standing in the doorway of Stewart’s bedroom is his mother, ARIA LEFLER, an attractive, youngish woman, a MILF of striking features. She looks like her son.
ARIA
You mean anything you want.
STEWART
I
do
mean that.
ARIA
What do you want to watch?
STEWART
Harrison Ford.
ARIA
Harrison Ford? You’re a freak show, kid.
Aria leaves the bedroom. Walks down the hallway to the living room.
ARIA (CONT’D)
(calling over her shoulder)
You got work to do first.
STEWART (O.S.)
I know.
ARIA (O.S.)
Take Tansy out.
EXT. THE LEFLER LIVING ROOM -- MOMENTS LATER
Aria shuffles some papers and magazines on the coffee table in a vain attempt to clean up. She puts them on another flat surface. She picks up a couple of toys and tosses them into a basket already partly full of toys. She is about to tuck into the laundry that needs to be folded when there is a knock on the front door.
She looks up suspiciously.
INT. STEWART’S BEDROOM -- CONTINUOUS
Stewart looks up when the knock at the door sounds.
EXT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- CONTINUOUS
Mr. Peterson stands at the door, rocking on his heels.
The door opens to reveal Aria.
For the first time we notice she is wearing mismatched pyjamas. She stares out at him. There is no love lost here.
Peterson waits for her to speak, but she does not.
MR. PETERSON
Hello Aria. How are you?
ARIA
We’re good, Todd.
MR. PETERSON
Good, good. That boy of yours missing any toys?
ARIA
I don’t know Todd.
(sighs)
Do you think he’s missing some toys?
MR. PETERSON
I’m not sure he’d know if he was or not. Grass’s so thick and high you could lose a Buick in there.
This line pleases him.
ARIA
Well, thanks for dropping by, Todd.
Aria goes to shut the door. Mr. Peterson stops her.
MR. PETERSON
Wait!
He digs around in his pocket for the shark head.
MR. PETERSON (CONT’D)
I’m just saying, I found this in the yard.
Aria takes it and examines it, knowing that it is broken.
ARIA
This is broken.
MR. PETERSON
I ran over it with my mower. What the hell was your kid doing, playing in my yard? And just when was he playing in my yard?
ARIA
I don’t know, Todd. This is broken. You can have it.
She hands it to him.
MR. PETERSON
Well what the hell am I supposed to do with it?
ARIA
That just answers itself, Todd. Nice to see you again. Give my love to Heidi.
MR. PETERSON
Heidi? It’s
Nancy
.
She goes to close the door again. He again stops her.
MR. PETERSON (CONT’D)
Whoa, just wait a minute. That’s not the only reason I’m stopping by.
Behind them in the house, the TV sound comes on.
INT. THE LEFLER LIVING ROOM -- CONTINUOUS
Stewart turns the TV on, but it’s just an excuse to see what’s going on at the door. He surreptitiously listens.
EXT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- CONTINUOUS
Aria shifts her body so that Stewart is blocked from Peterson’s view.
ARIA
Todd, I appreciate you dropping by, but I really have an awful lot to do--
MR. PETERSON
The neighbours and I have been talking. We pretty much agreed that you have to do something about your yard. You have to cut that grass. And weed that garden or else fill it over with grass seed -- if you want I can --
ARIA
By “neighbours” I think you mean you and Forrest Gump over there --
They both look across the street where a goofy looking man is pretending to water his flowers in the dark, but is listening.
ARIA (CONT’D)
Got talking and decided to give me --
a poor single mother
-- a hard time. Is that right? I work nights, Todd Peterson. Did you think of that?
MR. PETERSON
No.
ARIA
That’s what I thought. Good night, Todd.
(calling across the street)
Run, Forrest! Run!
Aria shuts the door.
INT. THE LEFLER LIVING ROOM -- CONTINUOUS
STEWART
Was that Mr. Peterson?
ARIA
Yeah. He wanted to apologize for wrecking your shark.
Stewart is watching TV, sitting very close.
STEWART
Huh?
ARIA
Never mind. Hey, too close. And shut it off, you have work to do.
STEWART
What about something to eat?
Aria shuts the TV off.
ARIA
In a while.
INT. THE LEFLER KITCHEN -- LATER
Aria and Stewart sit at the kitchen table. All around them are open books, papers, the stuff of school work. The refrigerator is covered with homemade tests declaring “Best Ever!” and “Excellent!”
The two of them are dressed now, in street clothes.
Stewart is bent over a paper, labouring. He completes it and hands it to Aria.
STEWART
Do I need to do these last ones? I already did them once.
ARIA
(looks at them)
I guess not. Let me see how you did.
She takes the paper from him, begins marking it, like a teacher.
STEWART
Can I go outside?
Outside, the dog barks. It startles them and they look towards the kitchen window -- blinds drawn -- as if unsure.
Neither of them move.
There is silence between barks, but they say nothing.
THE GUINEA PIGS SQUEAK IN THE SILENCE.
The barking stops. Aria shrugs.
STEWART (CONT’D)
I’m hungry.
ARIA
Just wait. You have another chapter to read.
STEWART
I already read a half an hour. You said that was all.
ARIA
Did I?
STEWART
Can I go outside then?
Aria looks at the clock over the stove. It is 11 pm.
ARIA
Okay. But we’re going to start the movie soon.
STEWART
What are we going to eat?
ARIA
I’ll see.
Stewart goes outside.
INT. ARIA LEFLER’S BUNGALOW -- MOMENTS LATER
Aria walks down the hallway to Stewart’s bedroom. The room is dark and she can hear the animals squeaking. She turns on the light.
She goes to the cage and peers inside.
She counts them.
She opens the cage door and touches the animals.
ARIA
Hey. Hey.
There is no affection in it. She closes the cage door.
EXT. THE LEFLER BACK YARD -- MOMENTS LATER
It is pitch black outside, except for some light from the street lamps.
Stewart and the dog, Tansy, are outside in the dark.
Stewart picks up a baseball on his way over to his back yard swing. He gets on it, and sways, tossing a ball up into the air. The dog sits beside the swing set, as if waiting.
The chains of the swing squeak. It sounds like the guinea pigs.
INT. PETERSON’S KITCHEN -- MOMENTS LATER
Mr. Peterson is at his kitchen table too, and there is a contrast with the Lefler home. The Peterson house is clearly childless -- tidy, ordered. He is at the table eating a bowl of cereal, dressed for bed in robe, pyjamas and slippers.
He hears the squeak of the swing set. He stands to look out the window.
He can’t really see through the window into the dark yard. But he can hear it.
He goes to the back door and peers out into the Lefler back yard.
P.O.V. THE LEFLER BACK YARD -- CONTINUOUS
Stewart sees Peterson at the door. He stares. He is tossing the ball up in the air and catching it.
P.O.V. PETERSON’S BACK YARD -- CONTINUOUS
Peterson watches the boy swing slowly and toss the ball.
From his point of view, it looks very unwholesome. Because it is.
EXT. THE LEFLER BACK YARD -- CONTINUOUS
Stewart stops swinging. Watches Mr. Peterson more closely. He stands and moves forward, towards the border between the two yards -- a chain link fence. He is still tossing the ball. The dog follows him, calmly.
Still holding Mr. Peterson’s gaze, Stewart tosses the ball deliberately into Peterson’s yard. It bounces slowly.
The dog is alert. He watches Stewart as waiting for the command.
INT. PETERSON’S KITCHEN -- CONTINUOUS
Peterson watches the ball bounce into the yard. He reacts immediately. He pushes the door open, angry.