The Laughing Matter Read online

  He was a little afraid of the way Red had needed to speak about Milton Schweitzer, too.

  “It’s not Milton Schweitzer,” he said at last.

  “What, Papa?”

  “I just said it was Milton Schweitzer because I didn’t want anybody to know who it is I’m really going to see.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Dade. My brother.”

  “Why did you say Milton Schweitzer, then?”

  “I didn’t want anybody to know I’m going to see my brother.”

  “Why?” Red said. “Why didn’t you want anybody to know? Why are you driving so fast?”

  He brought the car down to sixty, then fifty, then forty, and finally thirty. He did it because he needed to. He was a little too keyed up to be driving that fast. He was going too fast inside, too. He needed to go as slowly as possible.

  “Red,” Evan said. “Listen to me a minute, will you?” (He’ll understand when I tell him this is something I can’t talk about. I know he will.) “Red,” he said. (No, he couldn’t. He’d better get himself straightened out. He’d better do it for his son, he’d better do it quick.) “Red,” he said. “Your father’s had a few to drink. You saw Warren Walz try to stand on his head. It was because he’d had a few to drink. It doesn’t mean anything. Everything’s fine. Nothing’s the matter. It’s just that when a man has a few to drink it seems as if something’s the matter with everything. Dade will be glad to see you.”

  “Why did you say Milton Schweitzer?” Red said. “Why didn’t you say Dade?”

  “I’ve had a few to drink,” Evan said, trying to speak cheerfully. “It’s nothing. You’re not scared any more, are you?”

  “I don’t understand,” Red said. “Do you like Milton Schweitzer?”

  “Of course I like Milton Schweitzer.”

  “I hate him,” Red said.

  “Why?” Evan said. (There’s no use performing for Red. There’s no use trying to pretend nothing’s the matter. He knows. I can’t protect him.)

  “Do you remember when you asked if I liked Warren Walz?”

  “Yes, Red. It was only yesterday.”

  “And you asked why I liked Cody Bone?”

  “Yes, Red.”

  “And I said I just liked Cody Bone, but I didn’t know why. Well, I even like Warren Walz now. I liked him especially when he tried to stand on his head. But I don’t like Milton Schweitzer. I hate him.” He waited a moment, then said, “And I know why, too.”

  “Why, Red?” He was past pretending cheerfulness. His voice was hushed.

  “Mama said she was going to take Eva and me to the circus,” Red said. “We got ready. Then she called Mabel, and Mabel took us. We didn’t want to go with Mabel. I didn’t know why Mama changed her mind. I didn’t like the circus with Mabel.” He stopped.

  “Why should you hate Milton Schweitzer because of that?” Evan said.

  “Well, Papa, don’t you understand?” Red said. “When we got back from the circus he was visiting us.

  “Then another time Mama promised to take us for a picnic to the campus. To that place where we had a picnic once, and so much fun. She made all the sandwiches and we were all ready to go, and then again she called Mabel, and Mabel took us to the picnic.”

  “When was that?”

  “When you went to make the money for the car,” Red said. “When are we going to get the car?”

  “I don’t know,” Evan said. He was helpless now. He had to know. “When you got home after the picnic,” he said, “how was Mama?”

  “All right, I guess,” Red said. “But I was mad at her. I was mad at him, too. I get mad sometimes, too. When I came into the house and saw him, I didn’t stop. I went straight through to the back yard, because I was so mad. I just said, ‘Why don’t you stay in your own house?’ And I went out into the back yard. Eva stayed in with Mama and him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before, Red?”

  “Why?” the boy said. “I don’t know. I forgot, I guess. He didn’t come to our house any more after that. Did you want me to tell you I talked that way? I felt ashamed. I didn’t want to talk that way. I just couldn’t help it.”

  He drove into the airport parking lot and stopped the car.

  “Your uncle Dade’s going to be glad to see you,” he said.

  Chapter 19

  Dade looked tired. He looked so tired Red said to his father, “Is it Dade?” They went up to him, leaning against a counter, reading a book. He closed the book to look at the boy.

  “Hello, Red,” he said. “You look fine. You look fine, boy.” He turned to his brother. “Do you know who he looks like? He looks like the old boy. Your grandfather, Red, Petrus Nazarenus. You look like him.” Dade looked at his brother again. “I thought even this would be better than nothing. I’ve got to take the plane back in an hour, though.”

  Dade looked at the boy again, and this time smiled. He spoke in the language Red wished he could speak. The only word he said that Red understood was “Hey.” It was the first word of what Dade said. Hey, something or other in the unknown language, the words lively and hard and angry, but at the same time humorous, too.

  Dade searched his brother’s eyes and very quietly said a few more words in the language. Red heard his father reply in the language.

  They moved to a far bench and sat down. Dade sat close to Red, and put his arm around him. Red’s father sat on the other side of Red.

  The brothers spoke in the language Red didn’t understand. He didn’t need to. He understood their voices. He understood Dade was Evan’s brother.

  “Speak softly,” Dade said. “Speak softly, for your son, who is my own father.”

  “I speak softly,” Evan said. “What do I do, brother?”

  Dade spoke in English to Red. “You are my father, Petrus Nazarenus.” He turned the boy’s head toward him, and kissed him on the forehead. “If you get tired, if you want to walk around, if you want to look at the people, or go outside and look at the airplanes, we’ll be here, we’ll be seated here.”

  Red turned and looked at his father. Evan saw the panic in his eyes again.

  “I don’t want to go,” he said.

  “I hoped you wouldn’t,” Dade said, “but I didn’t know.”

  He spoke in the language again.

  “We need a lifetime to understand the very simplest thing,” Dade said. “We need two lifetimes to correct a small error. We live an error every day and correct not one error in a lifetime. What do you do, my brother? Whatever you do, you yourself do nothing. Your doing is done for you. Whatever you do is right. If you hate, it is. If you kill, it is. Brother, if you love, it is right. If you love her who destroys you, it is right.” His tired eyes searched his brother’s. “Brother,” he said, “do what you must, do what you will, it is right.”

  “If I am husband to another man’s woman,” Evan began to say.

  “It is right,” Dade said quickly, his voice deeply tired.

  “If I am father to another man’s child,” Evan said.

  “It is right,” Dade said.

  “What do I do?” Evan said.

  “Sleep?” Dade asked. “Is that it?”

  “Sleep?” Evan said. “I can’t sleep. There is no sleep left for me.”

  “I long for my children,” Dade said. “To long is right. I wish to see them. To wish to see them is right. I do not see them. Not to see them is right.”

  “Why, Dade?”

  “It’s a game,” Dade said. “The playing of a game is right. The game is this. Which will it be for myself? To be proud and to lose that which I love, or to be without pride, and soft, and to have softly that which I love? Each is right. Which will it be for myself? It will be to be proud, and to lose. And if they love me, want me, but cannot reach me, what will it be? It will be to be proud, and to have them reach me not. And if they perish for want of me, what will it be? It will be to be proud, and to learn that they have perished. Is this so? Is this a way to be? It is, my brother
.”

  “You’re tired,” Evan said. “You’re very tired. You must not take the airplane.”

  “It’s a game,” Dade said. “There it sits, waiting. It is there always. I require no excitements. I have never required them. The excitements of money, coming or going, I have never required. The game waits to excite, surprise, reward, belittle. It has never excited, surprised, rewarded, or belittled me. Do you understand, my brother?”

  “No, Dade.”

  “I will tell you, then,” Dade said. “Here.” He reached into his pocket, brought out rolled currency, and handed it to his brother. Red saw the stuff. He knew it was money, but he didn’t understand the language. “This is the prize,” Dade said. “I have not slept because until the other players surrender I stay with the game. It is a silly game, with a silly prize, but it is right. What do you do? Go home, my brother.”

  He turned the boy’s head to him again, and again pressed his dry mouth to Red’s forehead.

  “Red,” he said. “Isn’t it strange and wonderful that a brother’s son is a man’s own father?” He smiled at the boy, tightening his hand on the boy’s chin. “Isn’t it strange, Red? Isn’t it strange? I was a poor son. Perhaps that’s why I was never a father. What are you thinking, Red? Tell me.”

  “I want to talk the language,” Red said.

  “Yes,” Dade said. He looked over the head of the boy at the boy’s father. The man hadn’t put the money away. Dade noticed this, then said in English, “He must be taught.”

  “Who will teach me?” Red said.

  “Your father will,” Dade said. He spoke again to his brother. “Teach him the language in thoughts, not in words,” he said in English. “One thought after another. By the time you’re nine,” he said to the boy, “you’ll speak the language as well as you speak English, or better. Put the stuff in your pocket,” he said to his brother in English, and then in the language he said, “There is more, take it and go home. If there is someone you wish to kill, you will find in my own room the weapons for it. Why not? It is right. If there is someone you wish to forgive, to understand, to love, you will find the weapons for it in your heart.”

  “Red?” Evan said to his son. “I want you to take a little walk outside and look at the airplanes.”

  The boy looked at his father. There was still panic in his eyes, but after a moment it went away, and Evan saw that his son did indeed resemble his father.

  He slipped down off the bench—his feet hadn’t been touching the floor—then loitered off to the big glass door. He pushed it open, went out onto the steps, then down the steps, and away.

  “For God’s sake, Dade,” Evan said in English quickly. “She breaks my heart. I feel sorry for her. I don’t know what to do, man. I swear to God I’m afraid I’ll kill her. You don’t have to go back, do you? Stay. Help me. Don’t go back, Dade.”

  “There’s no help,” Dade said. “If you must kill, I’ve told you where the weapons are. You’d find them soon enough, anyway. Hands would be enough, though. Anything would do. We are never unarmed. No one. And we have no defense. There’s no help. Did Petrus help? Did we help Petrus? No one helps. No one hinders, either.” He suddenly brought a silver dollar out of his pocket. “Flip for it,” he said. “To be kind, or to be proud. That’s what it comes to. Call it.” He flipped the coin high, saying again as it went end over end, “Call it.”

  “Heads,” Evan said.

  The heavy coin slapped the marble floor, bounced, spun swiftly on its edge, lost momentum, and then lay down. It was tails.

  “Be kind,” Dade said. “Why not, boy? Why not? You called it. Be kind. Be kind to everybody. Be kind to yourself.”

  “Soft, is that it, Dade?”

  “Why not?” Dade said. “Or also soft. Be kind. It’s right to be kind.”

  “I came near killing her this afternoon,” Evan said. “Red came and stopped me.”

  “Be kind to Red,” Dade said. “Be kind to Red’s mother. A boy loves his mother.”

  “For God’s sake, Dade, don’t you understand what’s happened?”

  “I understand,” Dade said.

  “No, you don’t,” Evan said. “We were talking. I was thinking of somebody to help us. A doctor. To help her. Help Red. Help Eva. Help me. Help the others we believed we were going to have. I asked her if she loved him. She said she didn’t know. I would have killed her if Red hadn’t stopped me. I wanted to be kind. I wanted to forgive—I wanted to be soft, Dade. I wanted to hide it, and I wanted to believe I could forget it, and she could forget it, and Red and Eva never know anything about it. I asked her. I thought it might be an accident, out of sickness. I asked her. I was sure she would know how much she hated the accident, hated the sickness. Dade, she said she didn’t know. Stay here and help me. Stay at the hotel in Fresno. You’ve got to help me, Dade.”

  “I’ll fly down the minute I can,” Dade said. “I’ll try to help you. It may be tomorrow morning. It may be tomorrow night.”

  “Are you sure you’re winning?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “How much was that you handed me?”

  “I don’t know. You count it.”

  “I’ll keep it for you.”

  “No,” Dade said. “I don’t want it, and I want you to have it. You’re in the game as much as anybody else.” He got up. “I miss the boy. I want to go out and be with him until it’s time to go back.” Evan stood beside him. “What you were talking about with her—” Dade said. “Talk about it some more. Sometimes the mouth moves by itself. Her answer may not have meant anything. Talk about that some more. I can help you there.”

  They walked out to the steps, and Dade saw Red standing alone.

  “There he is,” Dade said, “and he hasn’t been crying. You thought he might cry, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “He is like Petrus Nazarenus, and I saw Petrus cry.”

  “When?” Dade said. “When did you see my father cry?”

  “The last time you were gone,” Evan said. “He cried several times. He believed he would never see you again. Red’s been thinking he might not see me again.”

  “I should have come back,” Dade said. “I knew he was old, but I thought he could wait a little longer.”

  When they reached the boy, Red did not turn to them.

  “Red?” Evan said.

  “Yes, Papa,” the boy said, but still did not turn. Dade Nazarenus turned to his brother. His hard eyes were harder than ever now, but full of anguish. “Be kind,” he said in the language. “Be kind to him.” He reached around to the boy’s forehead. His fingers covered the boy’s eyes, nose, and mouth. They rubbed the moisture dry.

  “It is right,” the boy said in the language, but still did not turn. “What’s that mean, Dade?” he said in English. “That you said so many times?”

  “It means, It is right,” Dade said. “It is right. Say it again.”

  The boy said the words in the language again, then in English, “It is right? Is that what it means?”

  “Yes,” Dade said. “Now, you’ve got that. You say it perfectly. Your father will teach you other things to say, too.”

  The boy turned to his father.

  “Will you, Papa?”

  “Yes, Red,” Evan said. “Yes, I will.”

  “I want to talk the way you and Dade talk,” Red said.

  “Your father will teach you,” Dade said.

  “It might take a long time,” Red said to his father.

  “I know,” Evan said.

  “Will you?”

  “Yes, Red.”

  They began to walk, the boy between them. Suddenly Dade lifted the boy in his arms, laughing, and hugged him until Red was laughing, too. Dade said the words, and then Red said them, and then at last Evan Nazarenus said them, too.

  “It is right,” they all said in the language.

  Chapter 20

  On the way back to Clovis the boy said, “The smell of rock
s in the house is from Dade. I wasn’t sure until you and Dade came out where I was standing. Inside, I thought it might be from the marble floor there, not from Dade, but it was still there when he came outside. Dade smells like rocks. Eva smells like hay and honey and some other things, only I don’t know what they are. Flora Walz smells like cold water and green leaves.”

  “Do you like Flora?” Evan said.

  “Well, I really like her,” Red said. “I like Fay and Fanny, too, but I really like Flora.”

  “Why?”

  Evan wanted to know. Why did his son like Flora? Why did Evan like Swan? Why had he believed that of all the women in the world Swan was the one who was his woman, by whom he would have sons and daughters, with whom he would be decently resigned to the meaninglessness of life? Why did he still like Swan?

  “I like her,” Red said, “because she makes me feel good.”

  “How?” the man said. “How does she make you feel good?”

  How had Swan made him feel good? How had she made him feel amused and glad about being involved in an absurd and painful experience. How had she done it?

  “Well, Papa,” Red said, “she likes me, and that’s what makes me feel good. I mean, it makes me feel good to know a girl like Flora likes me. I never saw a girl like Flora before.”