I don’t want to eat my cereal but Ma says I can play with the jeep again right after. I eat twenty-nine of them, then I’m not hungry anymore. Ma says that’s waste, so she eats the rest.
I figure out to move Jeep just with Remote. The thin silver antenna, I can make it really long or really short. One switch makes Jeep go forward and backward, the other does side to side. If I flip both the same time, Jeep gets paralyzed like by a poison dart, he says argbbbbbb.
Ma says she’d better start cleaning because it’s Tuesday. “Gently,” she says, “remember it’s breakable.”
I know that already, everything’s breakable.
“And if you keep it turned on for a long time the batteries will get used up, and we don’t have any spares.”
I can make Jeep go all around Room, it’s easy except at the edge of Rug, she gets curled up under his wheels. Remote is the boss, he says, “Off you go now, you slowcoach Jeep. Twice around that Table leg, lickety-split. Keep those wheels turning.” Sometimes Jeep is tired, Remote turns his wheels grrrrrrrrr. That naughty Jeep hides in Wardrobe but Remote finds him by magic and makes him zoom back and forward crashing into the slats.
Tuesdays and Fridays always smell of vinegar. Ma’s scrubbing under Table with the rag that used to be one of my diapers I wore till I was one. I bet she’s wiping Spider’s web away but I don’t care much. Then she picks up Vacuum who makes it all noisy dusty wab wab wab.
Jeep sneaks way off in Under Bed. “Come back, my little baby Jeepy,” says Remote. “If you become a fish in the river, I will be a fisherman and catch you in my net.” But that tricksy Jeep stays quiet till Remote is having a nap with his antenna all the way down, then Jeep sneaks up behind him and takes out his batteries ha ha ha.
I play with Jeep and Remote all day except when I’m in Bath they have to park on Table not to get rusty. When we do Scream I push them up really near Skylight and Jeep vrums his wheels as loud as he can.
Ma lies down again holding her teeth. Sometimes she does a big breath out out out.
“Why are you hissing so long?”
“Trying to get on top of it.”
I go sit by her head and stroke her hair out of her eyes, her forehead is slippy. She grabs my hand and holds it tight. “It’s OK.”
It doesn’t look OK. “You want to play with Jeep and Remote and me?”
“Maybe later.”
“If you play you won’t mind and you won’t matter.”
She smiles a bit but the next breath comes out louder like a moan.
At 05:57 I say, “Ma, it’s nearly six,” so she gets up to make dinner but she doesn’t eat any. Jeep and Remote wait in Bath because it’s dry now, it’s their secret cave. “Actually Jeep died and went to Heaven,” I say, eating my chicken slices really fast.
“Oh, yeah?”
“But then in the night when God was asleep, Jeep snuck out and slid down the Beanstalk to Room to visit me.”
“That was cunning of him.”
I eat three green beans and have a big drink of milk and another three, they go down a bit faster in threes. Five would be fasterer but I can’t manage that, my throat would shut. One time I was four, Ma wrote Green beans / other froz green veg on the shopping list and I scribbled out Green beans with the orange pencil, she thought it was funny. At the end I have the soft bread because I like to keep it in my mouth like a cushion. “Thanks, Baby Jesus, especially for the chicken slices,” I say, “and please no more green beans for a long time. Hey, why do we thank Baby Jesus and not him?”
“Him?”
I nod at Door.
Her face gets flat even though I didn’t say his name. “Why should we thank him?”
“You did the other night, for the groceries and the snow offing and the pants.”
“You shouldn’t listen.” Sometimes when she’s really mad her mouth doesn’t really open. “It was a fake thank.”
“Why it—?”
She butts in. “He’s only the bringer. He doesn’t actually make the wheat grow in the field.”
“Which field?”
“He can’t make the sun shine on it, or the rain fall, or anything.”
“But Ma, bread doesn’t come out of fields.”
She presses on her mouth.
“Why you said—?”
“It must be time for TV,” she says fast.
It’s videos, I love them. Ma does the moves with me most times but not tonight. I jump on Bed and teach Jeep and Remote to shake their booties. It’s Rihanna and T.I. and Lady Gaga and Kanye West.
“Why do rappers wear shades even in the night,” I ask Ma, “are their eyeballs sore?”
“No, they just want to look cool. And not have fans staring into their faces all the time because they’re so famous.”
I’m confused. “Why the fans are famous?”
“No, the stars are.”
“And they don’t want to be?”
“Well, I guess they do,” says Ma, getting up to switch off the TV, “but they want to stay a bit private as well.”
When I’m having some, Ma won’t let me bring Jeep and Remote into Bed even though they’re my friends. And then she says they have to go up on Shelf while I’m sleeping. “Otherwise they’ll poke you in the night.”
“No they won’t, they promise.”
“Listen, let’s put your jeep away, then you can sleep with the remote because it’s smaller, as long as the antenna’s right down. Deal?”
“Deal.”
When I’m in Wardrobe, we talk through the slats. “God bless Jack,” she says.
“God bless Ma and magic her teeth better. God bless Jeep and Remote.”
“God bless books.”
“God bless everything here and Outer Space and Jeep as well. Ma?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are we when we’re asleep?”
I can hear her yawn. “Right here.”
“But dreams.” I wait. “Are they TV?” She still doesn’t answer. “Do we go into TV for dreaming?”
“No. We’re never anywhere but here.” Her voice sounds a long way away.
I lie curled up touching the switches with my fingers. I whisper,
“Can’t you sleep, little switches? It’s OK, have some.” I put them at my nipples, they take turns. I’m sort of asleep but only nearly.
Beep beep. That’s Door.
I listen very hard. In comes the cold air. If I had my head out of Wardrobe, there’d be Door opening, I bet I could see right into the stars and the spaceships and the planets and the aliens zooming around in UFOs. I wish I wish I wish I could see it.
Boom, that’s Door shutting and Old Nick is telling Ma how there wasn’t any of something and something else was a ridiculous price anyway.
I wonder if he looked up on Shelf and saw Jeep. Yeah he brung him for me, but he never played with him I don’t think. He won’t know how Jeep suddenly goes when I switch Remote on, vrummmm.
Ma and him only talk for a bit tonight. Lamp goes off click and Old Nick creaks the bed. I count in ones sometimes instead of fives just for different. But I start losing count so I switch to fives that go faster, I count to 378.
All quiet. I think he must be asleep. Does Ma switch off when he’s off or does she stay awake waiting for him to be gone? Maybe they’re both off and me on, that’s weird. I could sit up and crawl out of Wardrobe, they wouldn’t even know. I could draw a picture of them in Bed or something. I wonder are they beside each other or opposite sides.
Then I have a terrible idea, what if he’s having some? Would Ma let him have some or would she say, No way Jose, that’s only for Jack?
If he had some he might start getting realer.
I want to jump up and scream.
I find Remote’s on switch, I make it green. Wouldn’t it be funny if his superpowers started Jeep’s wheels spinning up there on Shelf? Old Nick might wake up all surprised ha ha.
I try the forward switch, nothing happens. Doh, I forgot to put up the
antenna. I make it all the way long and try again but Remote still doesn’t work. I poke his antenna through the slats, it’s outside and I’m inside all at the same time. I flick the switch. I hear a tiny sound that must be Jeep’s wheels coming alive and then—
SMASHSHSHSHSHSH.
Old Nick roaring like I never heard him, something about Jesus but it wasn’t Baby Jesus that did it, it was me. Lamp’s on, light’s banging in the slats at me, my eyes squeeze shut. I wriggle back and pull Blanket over my face.
He’s shouting, “What are you trying to pull?”
Ma sounds all wobbly, she says, “What, what? Did you have a bad dream?”
I’m biting Blanket, soft like gray bread in my mouth.
“Did you try something? Did you?” His voice goes downer. “Because I told you before, it’s on your head if—”
“I was asleep.” Ma’s talking in a squashed tiny voice. “Please—look, look, it was the stupid jeep that rolled off the shelf.”
Jeep’s not a stupid.
“I’m sorry,” Ma’s saying, “I’m so sorry, I should have put it somewhere it wouldn’t fall. I’m really really totally—”
“OK.”
“Look, let’s turn the light off—”
“Nah,” says Old Nick, “I’m done.”
Nobody says anything, I count one hippopotamus two hippopotamus three hippopotamus—
Beep beep, Door opens and shuts boom. He’s gone.
Lamp clicks off again.
I feel around on the floor of Wardrobe for Remote, I find a terrible thing. His antenna all short and sharp, it must have snapped in the slats.
“Ma,” I whisper.
No answer.
“Remote got broke.”
“Go to sleep.” Her voice is so hoarse and scary I think it’s not her.
I count my teeth five times, I get twenty every time but I still have to do it again. None of them hurt yet but they might when I’m six.
I must be asleep but I don’t know it, because then I wake up.
I’m still in Wardrobe, it’s all dark. Ma didn’t bring me into Bed yet. Why she didn’t bring me in?
I push the doors and listen for her breath. She’s asleep, she can’t be mad in her sleep, can she?
I crawl under Duvet. I lie near Ma not touching, there’s all heat around her.
Unlying
In the morning we’re eating oatmeal and I see marks. “You’re dirty on your neck.”
Ma just drinks some water, the skin moves when she swallows.
Actually that’s not dirt, I don’t think.
I have a bit of oatmeal but it’s too hot, I spit it back in Meltedy Spoon. I think Old Nick put those marks on her neck. I try saying but nothing comes out. I try again. “Sorry I made Jeep fall down in the night.”
I get off my chair, Ma lets me onto her lap. “What were you trying to do?” she asks, her voice is still hoarse.
“Show him.”
“What’s that?”
“I was, I was, I was—”
“It’s OK, Jack. Slow down.”
“But Remote got snapped and you’re all mad at me.”
“Listen,” says Ma, “I couldn’t care less about the jeep.”
I blink at her. “He was my present.”
“What I’m mad about”—her voice is getting bigger and scratchier—“is that you woke him up.”
“Jeep?”
“Old Nick.”
It makes me jump that she says him out loud.
“You scared him.”
“He got scared at me?”
“He didn’t know it was you,” says Ma. “He thought I was attacking him, dropping something heavy on his head.”
I hold my mouth and my nose but the giggles fizz out.
“It’s not funny, it’s the opposite of funny.”
I see her neck again, the marks that he put on her, I’m all done giggling.
The oatmeal’s still too hot so we go back to Bed for a cuddle.
This morning it’s Dora, yippee. She’s on a boat that nearly crashes into a ship, we have to wave our arms and shout, “Watch out,” but Ma doesn’t. Ships are just TV and so is the sea except when our poos and letters arrive. Or maybe they actually stop being real the minute they get there? Alice says if she’s in the sea she can go home by the railway, that’s old-fashioned for trains. Forests are TV and also jungles and deserts and streets and skyscrapers and cars. Animals are TV except ants and Spider and Mouse, but he’s gone back now. Germs are real, and blood. Boys are TV but they kind of look like me, the me in Mirror that isn’t real either, just a picture. Sometimes I like to undo my ponytail and put all my hair over and worm my tongue through, then stick my face out to say boo.
It’s Wednesday so we wash hair, we make turbans of bubbles out of Dish Soap. I look all around Ma’s neck but not at it.
She does me a mustache, it’s too tickly so I rub it off. “What about a beard, then?” she says. She puts all bubbles on my chin for a beard.
“Ho ho ho. Is Santa a giant?”
“Ah, I guess he’s pretty big,” says Ma.
I think he must be real because he brung us the million chocolates in the box with the purple ribbon.
“I’m going to be Jack the Giant Giant Killer. I’ll be a good giant,
I’ll find all the evil ones and knock their heads off smush splat.”
We make drums different from filling up the glass jars more or waterfalling some out. I make one into a jumbo megatron transformermarine with an antigravity blaster that’s actually Wooden Spoon.
I twist around to look at the Impression: Sunrise. There’s a black boat with two tiny persons and God’s yellow face above and blurry orange light on the water and blue stuff that’s other boats I think, it’s hard to know because it’s art.
For Phys Ed Ma chooses Islands, that’s I stand on Bed and Ma puts the pillows and Rocker and chairs and Rug all folded up and Table and Trash in surprising places. I have to visit every island not twice. Rocker’s the trickiest, she’s always trying to catapult me down. Ma swims around being the Loch Ness Monster trying to eat my feet.
My go, I choose Pillowfight, but Ma says actually the foam’s starting to come out of my pillow so better do Karate instead. We always bow to respect our opponent. We go Huh and Hi-yah really fierce. One time I chop too hard and hurt Ma’s bad wrist but by accident.
She’s tired so she chooses Eye Stretch because that’s lying down side by side on Rug with arms by sides so we both fit. We look at far things like Skylight then near like noses, we have to see between them quick quick.
While Ma’s hotting up lunch I zoom poor Jeep everywhere because he can’t go on his own anymore. Remote pauses things, he freezes Ma like a robot. “Now on,” I say.
She stirs the pot again, she says, “Grub’s up.”
Vegetable soup, bluhhhhh. I blow bubbles to make it funner.
I’m not tired for nap yet so I get some books down. Ma does the voice, “Heeeeeeeeere’s Dylan!” Then she stops. “I can’t stand Dylan.”
I stare at her. “He’s my friend.”
“Oh, Jack—I just can’t stand the book, OK, I don’t—it’s not that I can’t stand Dylan himself.”
“Why you can’t stand Dylan the book?”
“I’ve read it too many times.”
But when I want something I want it always, like chocolates, I never ate a chocolate too many times.
“You could read it yourself,” she says.
That’s silly, I could read all them myself, even Alice with her old-fashioned words. “I prefer when you read them.”
Her eyes are all hard and shiny. Then she opens the book again. “ ‘Heeeeeeeeere’s Dylan!’ ”
Because she’s cranky I let her do The Runaway Bunny, then some Alice. My best of the songs is “Soup of the Evening,” I bet it’s not vegetable. Alice keeps being in a hall with lots of doors, one is teeny tiny, when she gets it open with the golden key there’s a garden with bright flowers and c
ool fountains but she’s always the wrong size. Then when she finally gets into the garden, it turns out the roses are just painted not real and she has to play croquet with flamingos and hedgehogs.
We lie down on top of Duvet. I have lots. I think Mouse just might come back if we’re really quiet but he doesn’t, Ma must have stuffed up every single hole. She’s not mean but sometimes she does mean things.
When we get up we do Scream, I crash the pan lids like cymbals. Scream goes on for ages because every time I’m starting to stop Ma screeches some more, her voice is nearly disappearing. The marks on her neck are like when I’m painting with beet juice. I think the marks are Old Nick’s fingerprints.
After, I play Telephone with toilet rolls, I like how the words boom when I talk through a fat one. Usually Ma does all the voices but this afternoon she needs to lie down and read. It’s The Da Vinci Code with the eyes of a woman peeking out, she looks like Baby Jesus’s Ma.
I call Boots and Patrick and Baby Jesus, I tell them all about my new powers now I’m five. “I can be invisible,” I whisper at my phone,
“I can turn my tongue inside out and go blasting like a rocket into Outer Space.”
Ma’s eyelids are shut, how can she be reading through them?
I play Keypad, that’s I stand on my chair by Door and usually Ma says the numbers but today I have to make them up. I press them on Keypad quick quick no mistakes. The numbers don’t make Door beep open but I like the little clicks when I push them.
Dress-up is a quiet game. I put on the royal crown that’s some bits gold foil and some bits silver foil and milk carton underneath. I invent Ma a bracelet out of two socks of her tied together, one white one green.
I get down Games Box from Shelf. I measure with Ruler, each domino is nearly one inch and the checkers are a half. I make my fingers into Saint Peter and Saint Paul, they bow to each other before and do flying after each turn.
Ma’s eyes are open again. I bring her the sock bracelet, she says it’s beautiful, she puts it on right away.
“Can we play Beggar My Neighbor?”
“Give me a second,” she says. She goes to Sink and washes her face, I don’t know why because it wasn’t dirty but maybe there were germs.