There Is No Year - Blake Butler [71]
PLEASE RESPOND
1. The son was in the house.
Q: HOW MANY CURTAINS DID THE HOUSE HAVE?
A:
Q: DID THE HOUSE WANT THE SON IN IT?
A:
Q: WAS THE SON IN THE HOUSE?
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2. The son slept for several months—though in this state, via several internal forces i.e. wanting i.e. loss—time refracted through the son’s body and therefore within the house it passed as only seven hours.
Q: IF SOMEONE WERE STANDING NEAR OR AT OR IN THE SON’S BODY, OTHER OUTSIDE FORCES NOTWITHSTANDING, HOW MANY TOTAL MONTHS OR HOURS WOULD THAT PERSON AGE?
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Q: HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE NEW FLESH TO WRINKLE?
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Q: I FEEL VERY OLD AND TIRED.
A:
3. One year earlier the son had discovered a small panel in the floor under his bed—a panel that, when opened, revealed a narrow passage down which the son could reach his hand. The son reached and reached and felt something down there nudge his knuckles. When the son removed his hand he found a short brass penny nail had been stuck into the loose skin between his thumb and pointer finger. The son took the nail out and looked at it and touched it to his tongue. The son swallowed the penny nail.
Q: IS THE SON STUPID?
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Q: HOW ELSE COULD THE NAIL HAVE BEEN USED?
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Q: HOW MUCH DID THE SON BLEED?
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4. In the son’s sleep, the son was sleeping. In the sleeping sleep, the son had a dream. In the dream the son knew as given that the son would never die.
Q: HOW MANY OTHER SONS WERE IN THIS DREAM? SONS THE SON COULD NOT SEE. SONS HIDING IN THE SLEEP WALLS. WHO ELSE’S SONS?
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Q: IS THAT TRUE? WOULD HE NOT EVER DIE?
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Q: WHY COULD NOT THE SON JUST SLEEP AND SLEEP?
A:
UNGIFT
The son’s cell phone rang nonstop blitzed no pausing. On vibrate, the phone would shake so hard it shook the bed, the air. The vibration continued even when the son turned the phone off.
The son did not want to look at the phone’s face to see who was calling in this way.
The son did not want to look. His eyes above, below, and beside him.
The son took the phone into the bathroom and hid the phone inside the drawer.
From the bedroom he could hear the porcelain of the sink above the drawer cracking under strain. He could hear the mirror patter. He could hear the soap dish dance. Something warped the bevel of the walls.
The son sat as long as he could manage on the corner of his bed, trying not to think. The bed was pushing up beneath him.
The son did not want not to touch the phone but the house would not be quiet. He went and got the phone where the bathroom was now raining dust. There were hundreds of him even in that mirror.
He went and lay down on the mattress with the phone against his chest.
The son felt sick again.
The son tried to call the mother’s name but he heard his voice stay hung inside him, gushing in his gush.
MASSIVE FABRIC
The mother stood on the back lawn. The grass grew to her waist. She had her wet arms up over her head. Something flat above her—something there—she could almost touch it—could almost pull it down. A kind of skin or greasy fabric. Gash. A veil. She kept reaching. Her arm muscles began to stretch weird. Each time she brought her hands back down from reaching she felt her elbows bobbed a little further out. Bowed. Redistracted. Her pupils spacing outward, going lazy. She was so big now. She couldn’t keep her hands from making knots. She couldn’t keep her knees between her legs. The thing—perhaps an awning—was flattening the house.
Like the mother’s body, the house all seemed to sag. The roof slid sloppy. The doors expanding. In countless windows the glass reflected the grass and gravel back onto the yard. A dead horse appeared in some parts of the reflection, its horseflesh buzzered and warped to gleaming waves from nonexistent heat. The mother’s mother crouched down on the horse’s back, holding