Somn Usor

The quilt had a pattern that made its orientation on the bed so conspicuous that Oscar was compelled to adjust and readjust it every time he looked at it. There was a file of geometric deer, beige and contrasted by a muted, almost sealike green. There was no sky for the deer, but they were separated into strata by aquamarine banners as wide as the little deer. It made for a calm magic, the Cherokee quilt that Oscar flew through his dreams under.

The ceiling was slanted, as the second floor was once an attic. Roy had built and finished the second floor of his one story house in the 1970s. There were windows on each side of the long room, one facing the front of the house and the other looking out over the back. He had painted the eaves a light green, the color of the fields the deer coolly graced through on Oscar's quilt. The steps to the front of the house were also painted a rubbery blue grey. Roy painted his fence a bright silver, and the long separate garage in the back was painted to match the house. He cooked his steaks with tender loving care on a small cast iron hibachi grill. The cucumbers and tomatoes that grew up the fence made a humble, clean salad. The trees smiled down on the whole affair, and Oscar smiled up.

Polly, Roy's wife, spread her fingers out over the formica and looked out the double windows over her sink at Roy in his slacks and white undershirt at the hibachi. She loved him. His sense of humor was perpetually antagonistic, but his smile made his barbed affection warm and kind. He loved her. For all the world had cheated them, they stayed fast.

He had escaped death underground as a coal miner, and she had escaped with him from a mountain hell where the ladies were bent on gossipy judgement of each other in an infinite cycle of hypocritical tsks. They loved each other, and their love was carried through sighs and eyebrows and morning coffee and evening television. Roy called television the "boob tube". Oscar liked to watch Knight Rider. Oscar would look at Roy watching television, then look at Polly watching television and catch her stopping to look at Roy. Then she would acknowledge Oscar and purse her lips in some unconscious expression of maternal generosity.

It was Halloween. Polly was full of tales about razorblades and LSD in candy, and insisted that Oscar not cheat and take any pieces before he got home. Oscar was worried and tried to make her sure that she knew he wouldn't. She took a valium and stood by the storm door and waited for the neighborhood kids to come by with their costumes and contorted faces and spastic antics. Roy sat on the sofa and used the box with 14 buttons and a mode switch to control the channels on his boob tube. Polly had a way of talking to Roy with soft, almost silent words issued when facing away from him that he could hear, like vibrations through the air weren't necessary for them. They spoke a different way. He grinned a grin and pulled his chin down to mute his laugh.

Oscar was Coca-Cola. His arms were dressed in thermal underwear and they stuck through holes in the top of the Coke can he wavered about in. The large cardboard costume was painted perfect red and the cursive script in painted white read "Coca-Cola ®" down the can. He loved Coca-Cola like grown-ups love coffee. Oscar's father was like his brother in some ways. Roy & Polly took care of him, and his father was subject to the same approval and disapproval that he was, though it was certain that he was a better boy than his father. Dad was taking him out for trick or treating, and he insisted that the best approach was to walk out and then work their way back to the house. Oscar loved walking through the neighborhood with his dad. It was even night, but they were allowed.

The first house was on the uphill side of the street. It was simple and unconfrontational and Oscar felt eased as he climbed up the three stairs and knocked on the door. A young wife opened the door and asked Oscar what he was. "Coke!" he said, and then held his pillowcase up. Oscar didn't pay attention to what she placed in his bag, he just gave her an excited "Thanks lady!" and hopped down the steps. His dad was smiling. They carried on through the neighborhood and Oscar explained what his costume was and the wives gave him candy. Soon, his dad said they were finished and they made their way down the last street to the house.

The lights were on and he could see Polly's silhouette in the storm door. She tilted her head back and Roy leaned forward from the sofa to look out past her at Oscar and Charles. Oscar could see him look back up at his wife and then lean back. His dad opened the gate and he ran up the walk with his swinging bag of candy. Polly opened the door and said, "Look what the cat dragged in!" He looked up at his grandmother with a big smile and opened his bag so she could see all the colors. She asked him if he had eaten any. "Nope, but I gave one to Dad! He said you wouldn't mind." Then she followed him to the kichen table, where he emptied the candy onto the top and she began to inspect each piece. When she gave them the pieces, he put them in separate piles by candy and counted them. 11 Reese's peanut butter cups, 8 Jolly Rancher sticks, 14 Butterfingers, 18 Snickers, 4 Mary Janes, and so on. She let him eat a peanut butter cup. Then it was time for him to get ready for bed she said.

Oscar loved to go to sleep like most kids don't. She made him brush his teeth, but she was less bossy about how he should do it than his other grandmother who he also loved but in a different way. They were both pretty and they were both nice but Polly was -his- grandmother. He changed into his pajamas. She washed his face, something he never liked because the cloth was all scratchy but afterwards the dry towel made it all feel nice. He could feel the water evaporate and a cool sleepiness start to settle in. He told Roy goodnight and that he loved him from the hallway and padded upstairs to the attic bedroom. On the way up the stairs he liked to try to fart at his grandmother who was walking behind him. When he did this, he made like he was being propelled with great velocity up the stairs. One time he was trying to fart so hard he accidentally pooped right into his pants. That night wasn't funny.

The backyard was brightly lit with a great halogen light, and it reflected brightly off of the white ceiling. There was a cardboard with St. Pauli Girl on the wall from when his uncle slept here. She seemed really pretty, like Polly. Oscar was afraid he'd see a ghost, but when he prayed he felt better. So Polly asked him if he was alright, if he needed a glass of water. He was fine and wasn't thirsty. Then he prayed that there wouldn't be any ghosts. His father said that once he woke up in this house and there was a ghost, so he bit the ghost's hand and the ghost slapped the shit out of him. The ghost was of Oscar's great grandfather, Poppy. Oscar played a movie of the day through his head, he thought of St. Pauli girl and he thought of multiplying numbers. Then he was aleep.

Polly was sleepy. She took another valium. Roy finished smoking a cigarette, stubbed it out and then took the ashtray into the kitchen. They took turns in the bathroom, Polly first and then Roy, and then got into their bed. On the dresser a large mirror reflected the bright light onto a wall. Roy watched as the timer cut it off at 11:30. Then he unwrapped his arm from Polly and rolled over onto his back. He was glad the day was through. Polly slept like a baby, like Oscar, and the valium kept her breath slow and silent.

Charles sat up in his bed in the unfinished basement. He wrote a letter to a friend. She was one of many people he'd been unable to show love for, where circumstance had prevented him from giving. He writhed around periodically, his back a stiff and and twisted braid of knots, then recomposed himself and wrote out another sentence. At the end of the letter, he signed "Love, Charlie" and folded the pages into uneven thirds. He laid back onto his bed and slowly fell asleep on his side with a pillow between his knees, still in his clothes, with the light on.