Kamby Bolongo Mean River Read online

  Should the phone ring I will let the machine answer because I have arranged for the machine to answer after the eighth ring. I require patience from my callers from the people who dial those seven magic digits in the proper order or if it's from another area code then those ten magic digits in the proper order. It is rare for me to receive a call from outside this area code but it does happen sometimes. Usually it is a wrong number. I never hold it against the caller for dialing the wrong number and will usually say the hello how are you regardless. I don't know anyone from outside the area which is why it's always a wrong number from there. But always I let it ring eight rings so that the machine picks up.

  Should the phone ring it might be time for my pills.

  Sometimes they will call when it's time for my pills this way they won't interrupt when they come in here.

  When they brought me my pills this morning I was in the middle of drawing a mother stick figure with her son stick figure in a doctor's office. The doctor was Indian and how I drew this is I had him wearing a headdress and smoking a peace pipe.

  Upstairs was stick Charlie in stick intensive care. He was hooked up to all kinds of stick tubes and there was a stick hose in his mouth so he could breathe easy.

  So the doctor gives me my pills like always and I ask him about my drawing. I ask him how do you like my drawing like that.

  He said I was very talented so who could argue.

  This is when I ask for more chalk. So far they've given me blue colored chalk and white colored chalk and I think it's time for other colors.

  I ask for an eraser too while I'm at it and he says I'll see what I can do.

  Mother saw what she could do when she did the Heimlich maneuver on me. I was choking on a pink pill so I raised my hand pointed to my throat and turned blue. She looked at me and said let me see what I can do and did the maneuver.

  The way they made these pink pills was so you'd choke on them half the time.

  What happened was after Mother maneuvered me I spit the pill right out and we had to start all over again.

  When all you have is a bed a table and some chairs you have a lot of room to draw on. Without a television to watch or radio to listen to there is nothing to distract you from drawing either.

  This is why I do most of the drawings naked.

  Even if they've just brought me a fresh uniform I take it off before I start drawing.

  Only the first five or so stick figures were drawn with my uniform on and I will probably erase those if they ever bring me an eraser.

  I don't think I can draw without being naked.

  I don't know if other artists are the same way.

  Yes my situation distracts me from drawing sometimes but I try not to let it bother me. If my situation needs attention I will give it the attention it needs and then go back to drawing. My situation only needs attention for a minute or two at a time so it's never a problem.

  What bothers me is I've never thought to draw on floors or walls before.

  Although Mother wouldn't have wanted me to draw stick figures in her house like that.

  Mother would say what the fuck do you think you're doing.

  She'd say this is my house sonny boy not yours.

  She'd say when you have your own house you can do as you please but until then I am the boss and you are subordinate to me in every way do you read me mister.

  And if she caught me naked at the same time she'd say no one wants to see that either and of course she'd be right.

  I have never had my own house unless you count here which I don't.

  How you know this isn't my own house is there's no air conditioner or television.

  I wouldn't have people watching me from the other side of the window though I would need someone to bring me my pills so I'm not sure how that would work.

  If I had drawn in Mother's house I'm sure my drawings today would be better that is if Mother didn't kill me for drawing in her house in the first place. This is something you get better at as you go like Charlie was with boxing. It took years for Charlie to become the boxer he eventually became and we were all so proud of him that day.

  Sometimes my stick figures are crooked or cockeyed. Sometimes I have stick figures whose heads are too big for their bodies though you can't actually help that when you draw stick figures.

  Sometimes I draw tic-tac-toe boards and I place Xs and Os in the squares like Charlie and I used to at the kitchen table. What I do is if Charlie is X in a certain game I will draw all those Xs left handed in honor of Charlie.

  The left handed Xs are always crooked which is exactly how Charlie drew his own Xs.

  Charlie had the worst penmanship in school and it's even worse now because he can't keep his hand from shaking.

  Should the phone ring my heart might stop short and I might drop dead all over the floor here. That first ring always shocks me and my heart always stops short right after that first ring finishes ringing. I can never train myself to not be shocked by that first ring. I used to spend half my day expecting the phone to ring so I wouldn't be shocked by it. I stood next to the phone waiting for it to ring is how I tried to train myself.

  This is why I think Mother was afraid I would get hurt and die. If the phone could do this to me imagine what Charlie could do inside a boxing ring.

  I usually don't even hear the second and third rings because I am trying get my heartbeat back and catch my breath. The trouble is I hyperventilate when my heart stops short and when I hyperventilate I fall down. I'm not sure if this happens to other people but it has always happened to me this way. By the fifth ring I am back to normal unless the call comes in the middle of the night and then it takes until the seventh ring for normal to happen.

  Otherwise it is after the fifth ring when I wonder who might be calling and why.

  Sometimes it is a bullfight with myself whether to answer or not.

  When that eighth ring finishes ringing and the machine picks up I walk around the room like I'm a matador and the phone is the dying bull. Another way to look at it is I am playing Charlie and the phone is me on the canvas. It is probably better to think of it this way because I raise my hands over my head and dance around the ring like Charlie used to do whenever he knocked me out. Charlie didn't win too many fights so whenever he did he made sure to enjoy it.

  I've never seen an actual bullfight so I have no idea what the matador does after he stabs the bull to death. I don't think matadors dance around with their arms over their heads.

  If you are not patient and cannot wait for the eight rings then please don't call me is what I'm saying.

  Every time Charlie knocked me out I would make him beg forgiveness. I would make him get on his hands and knees. I would say to him what the fuck did you knock me out like that for Charlie.

  Should the phone ring I will not say the hello how are you but will instead say from what area are you calling me from. I've decided I will not accept calls from certain areas.

  The machine itself was a gift from Mother. I can't remember if it was a birthday gift or a Christmas gift but right after she gave it to me she said we all have to make sacrifices.

  We would hold hands and sacrifice ourselves every night before dinner.

  This is something Charlie would have us do sometimes. Except with him we would hold hands around the dinner table while Charlie the fanatic prayed for everyone.

  The trouble was Charlie didn't pray out loud so I never knew what he was praying for. I figured he was praying for our sandwiches and coleslaw and so that he might be a better boxer and Mother wouldn't get fired from her next job and finally that I wouldn't get hurt and die this way he wouldn't be responsible.

  Mother and I would look at each other while Charlie prayed like this and it was like we were both saying to each other what the fuck is wrong with Charlie.

  For two whole summers Charlie was a fanatic like this. He would stay in his room to read what he called the word of God. We didn't watch television or box or do anything w
e normally did all the time. Charlie said we had to repent ourselves if we wanted salvation.

  Charlie said he was born again and here was another two words I had trouble with.

  This is when Mother sent Charlie away to camp for the first time.

  Alabama Arizona Arkansas California Colorado Connecticut Delaware Florida Georgia Hawaii Idaho Illinois Indiana Iowa Kansas Kentucky Louisiana Maine Maryland Massachusetts Michigan Minnesota Mississippi Missouri Montana Nebraska Nevada New Hampshire New Jersey New Mexico New York North Carolina North Dakota Ohio Oklahoma Oregon Pennsylvania Rhode Island South Carolina South Dakota Tennessee Texas Utah Vermont Virginia Washington West Virginia Wisconsin Wyoming Asia Africa South America Antarctica Europe Australia are the areas I will not accept calls from.

  Charlie and I would watch movies on bullfighters whenever there weren't any boxing movies. Usually there was a pretty girl the bullfighter was in love with. She was a peasant girl from a fishing village with fire red hair and flowing skirts and she would dance every night for the vatos at the cantina. The trouble was always the peasant girl's fisherman father. He never trusted the bullfighter and who could blame him. Charlie would have me do a bullfighter in love with a pretty peasant girl as one of my many performances.

  I lahve you Maria Conchita Daniela Esposa. My blahd burns for you mi amore. I will kill this bull for you I will stab this bull many times so you will know how much I lahve you.

  Charlie was on the floor whenever I did this for him.

  I always used extra vibrato when I said I lahve you Maria Conchita Daniela Esposa like that.

  I will only accept calls from Alaska from now on. This is because Alaska is where Charlie and I grew up and where Mother gave birth to us.

  Should the phone ring I will keep tracing my hands on the walls instead of answering.

  This morning I traced my left hand all over the wall opposite the table and chairs. I started tracing right after they brought me my pills.

  The doctor said how are we this morning Johnny.

  I said we're fine Johnny which means please stop talking.

  Then the doctor said what are we going to do today Johnny.

  I said we might trace our hands all over the walls in blue chalk Johnny.

  The doctor said that sounds great Johnny we're doing fine here.

  So now there are blue hands pointing up and down and in all directions in here. There are blue hands traced palm down and others traced palm up and I won't stop tracing blue hands until I fall over from glee.

  I have hands with fingers spread out wide and hands with every combination of fingers spread out at different angles. Some of these hands look like the boy-scout salute and others like the A-OK signal.

  Charlie was in the boy scouts for two whole summers until they kicked him out of it. What happened was he set some other boy scout's tent on fire when he was supposed to be pitching his own tent instead.

  Mother gave Charlie hell for this and it was my job to make sure I didn't encourage him. She would say Charlie is punished until further notice and don't you encourage him like that.

  I never encouraged Charlie to set anything on fire I don't think.

  Even if Charlie was here right now I wouldn't encourage him to set here on fire.

  I have two blue hands in here giving each other the finger. I put these hands in opposite corners so that they are facing each other. One of these has an extra long middle finger so if this was a contest you'd say he was the clear winner.

  Why I did it this way is because Charlie's hands were always so much bigger than mine. We used to hold our hands up to each other and he'd laugh at me. Charlie said I had the hands of a little girl and this is when I'd give him the finger.

  So there we were giving each other the finger in the living room and Mother would say what the fuck is wrong with you two.

  Sometimes I remember Mother with a drink of Scotch whisky in her hands and a cigarette burning between her lips.

  I think Mother was a heavy smoker and drinker but not always. I think Charlie and I told her she couldn't smoke in the house anymore and what she said back was whose house do you think this is.

  Even so I think Mother quit her smoking and drinking because I don't always remember her smoking and drinking all the time.

  For instance whenever she came in to give me my pills at night she never smoked or drank.

  She didn't smoke or drink when she was making us sandwiches and coleslaw either.

  There are some hands traced in fists too though these don't look much like hands to me.

  I wanted to draw two hands in a handshake but I don't know how to draw that so I tried to draw two hands locked in an arm wrestle like how Charlie and I used to arm wrestle each other at the kitchen table.

  I always had the stronger arm and this like everything else made Charlie jealous.

  Right next to that drawing I have a Mother stick figure smoking a stick cigarette and drinking a stick drink and in a drawing next to that one I have the same Mother stick figure quitting smoking and drinking for the last time.

  How I have this stick figure quitting for the last time is her hands are on either side of her head like it's about to come off her shoulders.

  Should the phone ring I won't stop the conversation with myself to answer. I think I have been in the middle of the conversation with myself for thirty-two years now. It is hard to mark the time when they won't let you have a clock for the wall or a television to watch.

  The conversation with myself is never boring. When we were kids Mother said I was a lively conversationalist and I'm the same way with myself today.

  Mother and I would discuss any number of things when I was a boy though most of them had to do with Charlie. What Charlie was doing and where Charlie was and why couldn't I be more like Charlie were some of her favorite topics.

  When she said why I couldn't be more like Charlie she meant why did I have to be someone who would get hurt and die like that all the time.

  When I am in the middle I never stop to answer the phone unless I think the caller might say something I haven't been saying to myself already. There is no way to know this beforehand which is why it is always a crapshoot to answer the phone when it rings.

  The conversation with myself last night started with me saying a man died last night.

  Then I asked how.

  Then I said it doesn't matter because he is dead.

  He is passed away.

  Passed on.

  Deceased.

  Expired.

  He is no longer with us.

  He has bought the farm.

  Checked out.

  Cashed in.

  He is deader than a doornail.

  Headed for the happy hunting ground.

  How.

  He smoke'm peace pipe.

  He is six feet under.

  Down for the dirt nap.

  Pushing up daisies.

  Then I said how did he die.

  I answered he did not feel well.

  He was under the weather.

  Not himself.

  Not a happy camper.

  Out of sorts.

  Below par not up to snuff.

  I asked myself what did he do.

  I answered he sought medical attention.

  He was better safe than sorry.

  He was an ounce of prevention all over a pound of cure.

  He checked himself in.

  He had hesitated and lost.

  Had one foot in the grave.

  His days were numbered.

  He was at death's door.

  On thin ice.

  He was treated aggressively.

  Better late than never.

  Locking the barn door.

  So that's when he died I guessed.

  No I said the treatments were successful.

  It was a miracle.

  He was a lucky man.

  He was blessed.

  He felt better.

  He went home.


  Counted his blessings.

  Stopped and smelled the roses.

  Took time for himself.

  He went back to work.

  Put his shoulder to the wheel so that his nose to the grindstone.

  He went for a walk.

  Went on vacation.

  Saw the world.

  Sowed oats.

  Burned the candle at both ends.

  Borrowed from Peter to pay Paul.

  What happened next I said.

  He went to the bathroom is what happened next.

  He found blood I asked.

  That's right I said.

  I knew it I said back.

  He cursed his maker.

  He went back to the doctor.

  He had reaped what he sowed.

  He was asking for it.

  Tempted fate.

  Pressed his luck.

  What did they do I wondered.

  I said he was treated aggressively but the treatments were unsuccessful this time.

  He was past the point of rescue of no return.