just so we could look at them. If a man is beating his dog and somebody else tries to stop him, the dog will attack the preventer. I know this.
One time I remember: it was late and the candle was almost spent, and I looked forward to the talking that’s born with the new-dark. None of us are family but we’re all family.
When the light was gone so we had no more shadows to stare at, Lilly said, “I get so tired sometimes.”
“Do you?” said Mark. He’s pitiless with everyone, but especially himself, which to me always justified it.
“Oh, let her be.”
“I mean it I get so tired sometimes.”
“Well get some rest, girl.”
“That’s not enough. I mean a tired that stretches farther than days and nights. Like there’s a bigger rest I need.”
“Don’t you know it.”
“They call that dying,” Mark said. “You wanna die, Lil?”
“Oh, heavens no.”
“Then take the rest you have.”
“I understand you, Lilly,” I said, and it got quiet for a minute except for her murmuring. “Thank you, Pete” and I felt like I’d said something stupid. I love Lilly; she’s the only thing I miss. She loves me too and I bet she misses me. One time we snuck away from the dog—when he let us off the chains—and just kissed. It was a long time and we didn’t ever say anything. When we got caught we got hit, both of us, so we were too sore to work for the rest of the day. Later when we saw each other we both said “But I’d do it again.”
“If I had me anything, it’d only be a cloud,” said Abe, who rarely spoke, so we’d listen when he did. “Look how soft they look up there. You could spread ‘em real big and they’d still be soft as a pillow.”
“Bed ain’t soft enough for you, grandpa?”
“Shut your mouth, Mark. Imagine if we had that. There’s enough clouds up there for all of us. And when we had the time we could get to building a staircase down so we could visit the people when we wanted.”
“I wouldn’t wanna visit them anyways.”
“I would,” I said. “You see them every day and some are nice enough to say ‘Hello.’ What do you think they’d say if they had time to say more?”
“They’d say ‘Why do y’all stink so bad?’ and I’d go ‘’Cause we ain’t got no fuckin’ showers.’ Then guess what I’d say?” Nobody guessed, but Mark kept talking. “I’d go, ‘Can I use yours?’ Ha!”
“We don’t stink.”
“You got used to it. A shame.”
We always talked like this, saying things so the conversation won’t die. Then people roll over and go to sleep without telling anyone, until eventually you might be the one to realize you’re the only one still listening to yourself. “I mean it, I get so tired,” Lilly said.
“Do you think you’re sick, Lilly?” I asked.
“No, nothin’s wrong but this tiredness. I feel fine.”
“No more talking. Just sleep.”
“Who the hell you think you are to tell us to go to sleep?” said Mark.
“I was just talking to Lilly.”
“One of us should try to break out of here,” Abe said abruptly.
“Not me,” said Mark. “I’m happy enough.”
The next day the dog walked us through the city to these fields a couple miles away, where we had to pick the blackberries that grow inside of alligator skeletons. You’re constantly hunched down and your fingers get blistered fast, but you can’t bleed on what you pick or they’ll never let you leave. I was standing next to Abe over two alligators that died fighting and became skeletons tranced like that, and we were digging cautiously through the piles in their mouths because you can’t rupture the berries either. I was watching Lilly and sometimes I caught her watching me back, then we’d both smile and put our heads down.
The dog circled us, barking arbitrarily. The sky there looked like alligator skin. I remember Abe saying When the skin and stuff disintegrates or whatever it will do when it does, it’s so nasty it must get stuck in the air above
One time I remember: it was late and the candle was almost spent, and I looked forward to the talking that’s born with the new-dark. None of us are family but we’re all family.
When the light was gone so we had no more shadows to stare at, Lilly said, “I get so tired sometimes.”
“Do you?” said Mark. He’s pitiless with everyone, but especially himself, which to me always justified it.
“Oh, let her be.”
“I mean it I get so tired sometimes.”
“Well get some rest, girl.”
“That’s not enough. I mean a tired that stretches farther than days and nights. Like there’s a bigger rest I need.”
“Don’t you know it.”
“They call that dying,” Mark said. “You wanna die, Lil?”
“Oh, heavens no.”
“Then take the rest you have.”
“I understand you, Lilly,” I said, and it got quiet for a minute except for her murmuring. “Thank you, Pete” and I felt like I’d said something stupid. I love Lilly; she’s the only thing I miss. She loves me too and I bet she misses me. One time we snuck away from the dog—when he let us off the chains—and just kissed. It was a long time and we didn’t ever say anything. When we got caught we got hit, both of us, so we were too sore to work for the rest of the day. Later when we saw each other we both said “But I’d do it again.”
“If I had me anything, it’d only be a cloud,” said Abe, who rarely spoke, so we’d listen when he did. “Look how soft they look up there. You could spread ‘em real big and they’d still be soft as a pillow.”
“Bed ain’t soft enough for you, grandpa?”
“Shut your mouth, Mark. Imagine if we had that. There’s enough clouds up there for all of us. And when we had the time we could get to building a staircase down so we could visit the people when we wanted.”
“I wouldn’t wanna visit them anyways.”
“I would,” I said. “You see them every day and some are nice enough to say ‘Hello.’ What do you think they’d say if they had time to say more?”
“They’d say ‘Why do y’all stink so bad?’ and I’d go ‘’Cause we ain’t got no fuckin’ showers.’ Then guess what I’d say?” Nobody guessed, but Mark kept talking. “I’d go, ‘Can I use yours?’ Ha!”
“We don’t stink.”
“You got used to it. A shame.”
We always talked like this, saying things so the conversation won’t die. Then people roll over and go to sleep without telling anyone, until eventually you might be the one to realize you’re the only one still listening to yourself. “I mean it, I get so tired,” Lilly said.
“Do you think you’re sick, Lilly?” I asked.
“No, nothin’s wrong but this tiredness. I feel fine.”
“No more talking. Just sleep.”
“Who the hell you think you are to tell us to go to sleep?” said Mark.
“I was just talking to Lilly.”
“One of us should try to break out of here,” Abe said abruptly.
“Not me,” said Mark. “I’m happy enough.”
The next day the dog walked us through the city to these fields a couple miles away, where we had to pick the blackberries that grow inside of alligator skeletons. You’re constantly hunched down and your fingers get blistered fast, but you can’t bleed on what you pick or they’ll never let you leave. I was standing next to Abe over two alligators that died fighting and became skeletons tranced like that, and we were digging cautiously through the piles in their mouths because you can’t rupture the berries either. I was watching Lilly and sometimes I caught her watching me back, then we’d both smile and put our heads down.
The dog circled us, barking arbitrarily. The sky there looked like alligator skin. I remember Abe saying When the skin and stuff disintegrates or whatever it will do when it does, it’s so nasty it must get stuck in the air above
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