Kamby Bolongo Mean River Read online

  And then.

  He suffered.

  I see.

  He died.

  So that's that I said.

  I said no that's not that because before he died and before he got sick. Between the here and now and the happily ever after and the way back when. He was always more than one way to skin a cat. He was every dog having its day. He was quiet as a church mouse and all monkey see monkey do. Happy as a clam with a pig in shit and crazier than a fox in a henhouse. Ate like a horse and drank like a fish which was wise as an owl and stubborn as a mule. Ran around like a chicken without a head and naked as the day a jaybird was born. He was all or nothing. No in-between no happy medium. He was the polar opposite. He was the left hand not knowing the right. Cold as a witch's elbow and hot to trot at the same time. He was six on one hand half dozen on the other and finally in the end he was better the devil you know.

  And now he is dead like a dead man.

  At least he is not suffering I said.

  He is at peace.

  He is in a better place.

  Watching over us.

  I had this conversation with myself and the phone didn't ring once during it and even if it did.

  How I knew a man died last night is I'm not as dumb as I look.

  I tell this to the doctors when they come in to examine me. I say I'm not as dumb as I look like that. They almost never respond when I say this. Sometimes when one of them is examining me another one is in the corner reading the newspaper. He is sitting there with his legs crossed like he is on a park bench somewhere. I always tell this one to go fuck himself.

  Should the phone ring I might let it keep ringing so that the machine answers because sometimes the machine will say you have reached me so please leave a name and number and a brief message. I never listen to the message whether it is brief or not. I figure there's nothing in the message that has anything to do with me so I don't listen to it.

  My best hand is to the right of the window from where they watch me. What's different about this one is I didn't trace my left hand for this drawing. I wanted to see if I could draw a hand without tracing and it turns out I was right all along.

  I concentrated on the chalk and the wall in front of me. I didn't think about my situation once while I was moving the chalk around and I didn't think about them watching me on the other side of the window either.

  Sometimes I try to look through the window myself but it's impossible. You have to be on the other side of this window to look through it although I have never been on the other side of the window myself. I might ask them when they bring me my pills later if I can see through the other side of the window but they would probably say no so why bother.

  Up close I couldn't tell what I was drawing although I knew I wanted it to be a hand. The palm of this hand is thin and the fingers are long like Charlie's. I don't think I was trying to draw Charlie's hands on purpose but I'm not surprised it turned out that way.

  I couldn't draw fingernails on any of the traced left hands but I came close with Charlie's hand. There are four imperfect ovals on four fingers and for Charlie that is good enough.

  How you know they are Charlie's hands is because of the knuckles. Charlie had the ugliest knuckles you ever saw and the hands on the walls here are no different.

  Charlie had to have broken each of his ten knuckles at least ten times during the course of his boxing career. We'd stuff padding inside his gloves but it never worked. We'd tape his hands up tight and that wouldn't work either.

  This is why we had him drink raw eggs and milk all the time for the calcium. Charlie read that calcium was good for bones and we knew his bones needed all the help they could get.

  Charlie was always breaking his bones so the raw eggs and milk didn't help at all.

  Whenever I made him raw eggs and milk I'd tell him this is for your bones and he'd say but it tastes horrible and I'd say if you didn't have the bones of an old woman maybe things would be different.

  Should the phone ring and it's Charlie I will say Charlie you have yourself a great hand on my wall.

  Sometimes the doctors have me write poems to see how I'm doing. They tell me to express myself and I tell them it's hard to do when I chafe like this.

  Sometimes the doctors want me in writing so I have no choice in the matter.

  The poem I wrote last night was the best one yet.

  The answering machine is like a sandwich.

  My uniform is like coleslaw.

  So what the fuck is wrong with the air conditioning.

  The conversation with myself started when Charlie was away at camp. He was away two whole summers and it was me and Mother alone in the house without him. I remember being alone in the house with Mother and sweating and not having anyone to watch movies or boxing matches on Friday nights with. Mother said she couldn't afford air conditioning because her boss touched her inappropriately so she got herself fired instead. Mother said she didn't know what she was going to do with herself. I told her I was sweating and if I continued sweating I would dehydrate and die. I said maybe she should think about that for a while.

  This is when Mother gave me money for the ice cream truck.

  The ice cream truck wasn't the same without Charlie behind me running after it. I was always the faster runner even though Charlie was older and responsible.

  Whenever I would get to the ice cream truck without Charlie the ice cream truck would say where is your brother Charlie today.

  I would say it's just me today. I would say Charlie is at camp getting better.

  That must be nice for him truck said.

  I said I wouldn't know and can I have a lousy Popsicle please.

  I would explain to Mother why we needed air conditioning every night during sandwiches and coleslaw. I would say Injury Alaska is a desert in the summertime. I would say all of downstate Alaska is a desert and people everywhere are dying because of the lack of air conditioning. I would pull down my pants to show her the chafed parts and say look at what you're doing to me Mother. This is when Mother would say you hold your situation young man and I will get you the powder.

  Should the phone ring it might be Charlie from camp. Charlie would call us from camp a couple of times each summer to let us know how he was. He was always good or if he wasn't good he was getting better.

  He never said what he was getting better at so I assumed it was either boxing or meditating.

  I pictured camp near a lake surrounded by a thick forest. There were huts and barracks where the campers lived and a mess hall where they ate their meals and watched television. All the huts and barracks had air conditioning as did the mess hall. Charlie had two friends he would meditate and spar with. One was especially good at meditating and the other at boxing so it was always good for Charlie to be away at camp like that. The camp counselors lived in a nearby hotel and were paddled in every morning on blue canoes from up the lake somewhere.

  These counselors wore white coats and clipboards and had the best air conditioners in all of Alaska back at their hotel. All of the campers hated them for that Charlie especially.

  Mother didn't let me go to the same camp as Charlie. She said she couldn't afford it but maybe next summer I could go. I asked her if we could visit Charlie at camp and she said they didn't allow visitors so the answer was no.

  I never went to Charlie's camp or any other camp for that matter.

  Should the phone ring and it's Charlie from camp I will say the hello how are you and hear what he has to say for himself. One summer Charlie said that camp was strange and that he might want to come home instead.

  I said the hello how are you and waited for a response.

  Charlie from camp said it's Charlie from camp calling.

  I said Charlie how is camp.

  Charlie said camp is strange and I might want to come home instead.

  I said what is strange about it Charlie.

  Charlie said every Monday night she juggles. Lemons oranges rolled up socks it does
n't matter what she juggles it. We'll put a kazoo in her mouth and have her blow tunes like You Are My Sunshine or The Tennessee Waltz. She loves it and I am afraid of her.

  I said why are you afraid of her Charlie.

  Charlie said Tuesdays it's the guitar. She's all right until she tries finger picking but she gets frustrated and starts slapping herself in the head. Beer calms her down most nights. Then she'll strum and strum until she breaks a string or we take the guitar away from her.

  I said they let you have beer there Charlie.

  Charlie said Wednesday night is cabaret night. She'll do a striptease down to a g-string and pasties. She gets this animal look in her eyes and gets us worked up so all anyone wants to do is go off into their rooms and do what feels good.

  I said like what the dog used to do when he humped on us Charlie.

  Charlie said exactly like that.

  I said to Charlie who are you talking about Charlie.

  Charlie said the best is Thursday when she does her ventriloquist act. She has a puppet named Ginger dressed up as a prostitute. She swings a fox stole around with one hand and holds her hip with the other. She has a great ear like yours. I bet Mother would say the same thing if she were here.

  I said maybe she wouldn't because she's unemployed again.

  Then I said can you tell which ear is the great one Charlie.

  Charlie said Fridays most of us take or leave. She tries to impersonate famous movie stars singers politicians but it gets boring and we fall asleep.

  I said I didn't sleep so well last night Charlie. I was sweating and Mother still won't let us have an air conditioner.

  Charlie said that sounds like Mother to me.

  Charlie said Saturdays are quiet. A lot of us don't even show up Saturdays. She'll either pantomime or dance ballet. She's graceful and it makes her happy so why bother.

  I said it's good she's happy Charlie.

  Charlie said we mud wrestle Sundays. We dress her up in a bikini and she takes us on one by one and it goes on for hours.

  This is when I asked Charlie when he was coming home.

  Charlie said I have to go now it's lights out time.

  I said okay Charlie but how are you doing.

  Charlie said I'm getting better I think.

  I said that's good Charlie and hung up in his face.

  Maybe it was more than two summers in a row he was gone for or maybe it was years he was gone and not summers. I think it may've been years because I can remember being alone with Mother in the house more than I can remember being with Charlie and Mother in the house all at the same time.

  The summers Charlie was away at camp were glorious. I could walk around the house and not worry about meditating or boxing. I didn't have to wake up early and tiptoe out of the house so as not to wake up Mother. The one time we did wake up Mother she yelled out what the fuck is going on out there and Charlie and I had to run back to our rooms and pretend we were sleeping. With Charlie gone I slept late every day like a normal kid. I didn't have to go jogging with Charlie and I didn't have to hold up the laundry bag so he could pummel it to death. I didn't have to make Charlie his breakfast drink and I didn't have to play games with him which he would never let me win anyway.

  What I'd do instead is watch television all day long and do what felt good.

  Regardless of how long it'd been I always recognized Charlie the minute he'd walk through the door. I always knew Charlie by how tall he was and by the blonde hair on his head. He'd come through the door and say hello to me and Mother and then the three of us would sit on the sofa and eat dinner together and watch the television. Mother would say how much taller he'd grown over the summer and then Charlie and me would sing songs during the commercials.

  Another thing is they won't give me a television to watch in here. When I ask them about it they tell me they are tired of making sacrifices.

  If I had a television to watch I'm certain I would get better right away. I'm certain it's the lack of television is what's wrong with me here. If I had one I would watch boxing and baseball and movies like Charlie and I used to do by ourselves.

  I am probably the best in all of downstate Alaska at watching television.

  Charlie and I would have contests to see who was better. The rules were you had to watch the television without getting up from the couch. You couldn't go to the kitchen for sandwiches and coleslaw and you couldn't go to the bathroom either.

  My record was over nine hours which Charlie could never come close to. Charlie would get impatient and leave himself open like always.

  Yesterday I drew a tic-tac-toe board on the wall and challenged the doctor to a game. I said whoever wins gets his own air conditioner.

  I said I will even let you be X okay.

  Should the phone ring I will say the hello how are you and listen to the words that come back if there are words or I will listen to the nothing that comes back if there is nothing but what I won't do is sound like an MP or security guard anymore. I have had it with security guards and MPs. They are never outside my door patrolling up and down for intruders especially when you need them.

  Sometimes I measure myself against a wall like Mother did with Charlie and me when we were kids. Every year Mother would have us stand with our backs to her closet wall and she would mark in chalk how tall we were. She'd mark Charlie in blue chalk and me in yellow and that's how you could tell us apart.

  Charlie was always taller because he was older and not sickly.

  So here in this room I am not getting any taller which doesn't surprise me.

  I have always been too short for my own good.

  It was always hard for me during our television watching contests because I always had to go to the bathroom too much. It's the same way here.

  I can never spend the whole day drawing like I want to because I always have to interrupt myself to go to the bathroom. What happens is I knock twice on the window and this way they know to come in here and escort me to the bathroom.

  They lead me down a dark corridor and into the bathroom and they wait outside the door for me just like Mother. Sometimes they even say are you okay in there and I tell them I'm busy I'll have to call them back.

  They like it when I draw on the walls here. They like the hands especially and how I know this is they never come in here to stop me when I'm drawing.

  The only time I tried meditating in here they came in to stop me which proves another point about these people.

  What happened was after they brought me my morning pills I made my bed right after taking them. Usually I pick up a piece of chalk and start to draw after taking my pills so they must've known something was wrong.

  My last drawing had a mother stick figure losing her job because her stick boss was cruel and unusual. How I drew this was I had the stick boss showing his stick situation to the mother stick figure and he says what do you think about this.

  What I never do is make my bed in the morning because why bother and also I was never any good at making beds. Mother taught us how to make our own beds and this was probably the only thing Charlie was better at than me.

  I had trouble lining up the sheets so that they weren't hanging over the sides and falling onto the floor. Charlie never had this problem himself but he had his own share of problems because after all this is Charlie we're talking about.

  So I made my bed the best I could and yes the sheets were uneven but at least I tried. What I did next was sit on the bed like I used to on our living room sofa with Charlie whenever we meditated. I sat up straight exactly like Charlie taught me and closed my eyes and listened to the nothing.

  I decided I was going to do this until I fell over from hunger or exhaustion or whatever it was that would make me fall over.

  I had my eyes closed and listened to the nothing forever that morning and right in the middle of it is when they came in here and stopped me.

  How they did this was four of them came in here and picked me up off the bed and sat me down in
a chair. Then the doctor came in afterwards and asked me what I was doing and I said to him I was meditating so what's wrong with that.

  He said we don't want you doing that here Johnny and he gave me another pill and the four who picked me up before picked me up again and put me back in bed and tucked me in goodnight.

  Should the phone ring it might be camp on the other end. I will say hello camp how are you. Camp will ask to speak to Mother and I will ask to speak to Charlie. I will say what have you done with Charlie camp and why isn't he getting better. Camp will say put your Mother on the phone and I will tell camp to go fuck itself instead.

  The bathroom here is nothing like the bathroom we had at home with Mother.

  This bathroom has white tile and white walls and no shower inside it. There is a urinal and toilet and two sinks with hot and cold running water except it takes forever for the hot water to get hot.

  We never had this problem at home and we had a shower and bathtub too.

  How I take a shower here is they come in and give me a sponge bath instead. What happens is two of them hold me down and another one runs a sponge over my body. I tell them this is cruel and unusual which is probably why they seem to enjoy it.