Euphemism

Euphemism ** //I like to bathe you//, said Stefan. //It’s your newness. Your first-snow newness. It’s your skin//. He sat down on the stool next to Klaus and wrung a sponge over his head. Klaus squirmed. //I can be useful//, he said. //I can help myself//. //Can you?// //Yes I can. And legally, in a week.// Stefan reached for a towel from the towel rack. He began rubbing it over Klaus’ hair. //I’d forgot about that//. //Mother wants a party//. //A party. Well, you’re too old for a party.// // But not too old for—a sponge. //  Stefan draped the towel about Klaus’ shoulders. //It’s nothing to do with your age//, he said. //It hardly matters to me how old you are//. //Mother says it’s bad//. Stefan stood up. //Really? What else does she say?// Klaus looked down at his toes and shook his head. //We’re a glitch in the system,// he said, //a disturbance of natural order. And God hates us//. Stefan knelt down on the tile and lifted Klaus’ chin. There was a youthful bit of stubble upon it. //What kind of cake does she want for your party?// // Yellow cake with chocolate icing. //  Stefan smiled. //That sounds delicious//, he said. //Your mother sounds like a good woman//. //She prays for me. She wants good children. // // Tell her to stop //, said Stefan. //You’re very good. You’re very, very good. //He removed the towel and hung it on a rod. //Stefan//. //Yes?// // Does God really hate us? // // Go put on some new pajamas. // // Stefan //, said Klaus. //Oh, I don’t know. //Stefan rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. //Probably.// Take the pot to the kitchen and drop it in the sink. Take the wet laundry out to the backyard and hang it on the line to dry. Take the dry laundry and fold it and wring out the washcloths sitting on the windowsill—and when you’re done, wring out your conscience. A quick rinse with the garden hose. And let the bad things dissolve. Klaus shut his eyes. //Let the bad things dissolve//. I’m glad you’ve found your way. Now I want three weeks of non-alcoholic beverages and if you smell like a Marlboro when you walk through the door, you’re sleeping on the porch. Hear? //But I don’t. . . .//   Hear? //I’m quitting//, said Klaus. //I told you already//. You think a mother wouldn’t know better? //I don’t think anything. I try not to think.// It inhibits you. //I get frustrated.// Well, don’t. It’s because you’re dumb. I’m gonna wise you up and once the stupid is gone it won’t be so painful for you to think. How painful is it now? //It smarts sometimes. //  Yeah? //Sometimes. //  You ignorant shit. Will you wear a tie on Sunday? //Why?// asked Klaus. I want you to look decent when all the relatives arrive. You should dress yourself like a man. Wear a coat, if you can, and no loafers. Dress shoes. Polished. //Okay. //  I’m molding you. You can’t feel it, but it’s happening all the time. Klaus was jumping. Jumping, jumping. //Why are you jumping, Klaus?// // Because I’ve got angst, I’ve got angst, I’ve got angst. //  Stefan pulled a sweater over Klaus’ head and, together, they crossed the street. //I can be useful,// said Klaus. //I can help myself//. Stefan let go of his hand. They looked to the sun dipping under the horizon and focused, for a second, on the effervescent pink glow of its great pregnant belly, their faces aligned with the slanting light. //Oh//, said Klaus. He shivered. Stefan placed an arm on his shoulder. //God//, said Klaus. //Every day. Every// single //day. // // I know. Like the tide. // They stared long into the evening until it sank behind shadow. Klaus began to cry. //It’s okay//, said Stefan. //It’s a sad redundancy//. Start with Milk. // Milk // // Eggs // // Butter // You forgot Sugar. // Sugar // // Cream // // Vanilla Extract // No. Start it over and get it right. // Milk // // Eggs // // Butter // // Sugar // // Cream // // Vanilla Extract // You’re doing good so far. What else? // Cherries // // Baking Chocolate // // Flour // We already have Flour. No, don’t cross it out. Start again. // Milk // // Eggs // // Butter // // Sugar // // Cream // // Vanilla Extract // // Cherries // // Baking Chocolate // // Walnuts // You’re allergic to nuts. Well, they process walnuts in the same machines as peanuts. Walnuts and peanuts all swimming around together. What happens if you accidentally get a peanut and it blows you up? Huh? Don’t you ever use your brain? Don’t answer that. // Jimmies // That’s good. Jimmies instead. // Milk // // Eggs // // Butter // // Sugar // Don’t bother to start over, dear. Just cross out Walnuts and keep on going. // Walnuts // // Jimmies // // Peppermints // // Candy Corn // What? No, no, no. You were doing fine before. Leave it at Jimmies. Let’s see what you got. // Milk // // Eggs // // Butter // // Sugar // // Cream // // Vanilla Extract // // Cherries // // Baking Chocolate // // Walnuts // // Jimmies // Okay. Okay. You’re doing okay. You’ll come with me to the supermarket to pick these up, right? You’re my son, right? //I’m waxing poetic today//, said Stefan. //I’ve been regurgitating Dante at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.// // Couldn’t you be waning poetic? // // I could. But if the intensity is intensifying, then the poeticity is waxing, and therefore— // // Okay //, said Klaus. //You’re waxing poetic//. Stefan looked smug for a moment. Then he turned to Klaus and said, very quietly, //You’re feeling it, aren’t you?// // Feeling what? // // The repercussions //, said Stefan. //What repercussions?// // The repercussions of your virile fruit. // Stefan looked ahead. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly. //Are you aware of what I am speaking?// // Fruit, // murmured Klaus, //fruit. She’s buying cherries. Maraschino cherries, I mean, for the cake.// // Oh dear //, said Stefan. //What is it?// // Oh dear //, said Stefan. //Never mind//. //We’re not so terribly beautiful, are we?// // No //, said Klaus, //I guess we’re not//. Why are you staring out that window? Klaus regarded the brick patio of the back yard. He said nothing. Stop staring out that window. He crossed to the other side of the room and sat down on the bed, smoothing down billows of gray comforter with the palm of his hand. He glanced for a moment at the photographs lining the walls, and then at the doorway. Do you have everything ready for tomorrow? //Yes//. Your clothes—they’re ironed? //Yes.// Because we can’t have any wrinkles in front of— //Yes. I know.// Good. Your shoes are polished? //Yes.// What did you use? //That tin of Shinola you gave me.// Oh, right. I forgot I’d bought that for you. You used it—all by yourself? //Mm. //   Well. //Well//. You’ve really grown into a fine specimen of man. Now go to sleep, so you can wake up early and be of assistance. Klaus? //Yes.// I. . . . Good night. At three o’clock in the morning, Klaus stood at the corner of the street, watching his breath crystallize in the cool air. He thought about the cherries on the yellow chocolate cake. What is simple? he wondered. Are words simple? He was wearing a new suit with a starched collar and placket. It was dark. The morning was dark. The suit, he felt, was a sign of impending decay. The relatives would arrive in six hours, goggle-eyed, to press their faces up against it. And where would he be? With a quiet chuckle, Klaus reached into his inner jacket pocket, withdrawing a small, dark flask. He unscrewed the cap and tipped it back. Hours passed. // Klaus. Klaus! // Stefan hurried towards a lanky figure walking swiftly away. He caught up with Klaus as they rounded the corner. // Klaus //, he said, //let’s sit down somewhere. Let’s discuss what’s going on.// // I hate words //, said Klaus. // Then let’s just sit down. // Klaus regarded Stefan with knitted brows. He thought about repercussions. //Is it necessary?// // No. // // Is anything necessary? // // Not in and of itself. // They sat down on the porch of a yellow house and stared at each other’s feet. //This is a yellow house.// // Yes, // said Stefan. //Are you drunk?// Klaus laughed. //Did you eat the cake?// // No one’s eaten it yet. Not even your mother //. Stefan sighed and rested his chin on his wrist, his elbow on his knee. //They’re waiting for you there. All the relatives. I’m starting to pity them a bit and pity is a despicable thing.// Klaus said nothing. //Well, I already knew that.// Klaus looked up at Stefan. Stefan rubbed his own shoulder. They sat quietly on the conglomerate steps, heads tilted towards each other, as the sun rose high into mid-morning. They sat until it shone through the trees and through the lattice outcropping perched above their heads. Stefan smiled. // It’s a pretty spectacle, isn’t it? We’re a majestic people. Our little meditations seems so clear and tangible in our heads and then we open our mouths and all of us, we all of us, descend into abstraction. // // Yes //, said Klaus, nodding. Stefan looked out over the fresh green lawn. // We’ve grown fat like the stones at the riverbank’s edge— // ripe, like our mothers and fathers.