The Mockingbird Legends
A Postmodern Gothic Tale. Coming of Age Rural in a Dissolute Time.
Thirty-five
Richard Ambrose sat across from Cletus McLeod in a booth at Plumbetty’s. Their server was Big Betty herself, cola for the young entrepreneur and black coffee for the town elder. The two men exchanged pleasantries. Cletus had been stylishly late and explained checking-in on Richard’s mother. How the time had slipped away. Richard asked him what he thought of her condition, and he replied that he had always been fond of her. When Richard mentioned the tract Cletus smiled a broad closemouthed smile. Told him that was brother Asa’s baby. When is a good time to talk with Asa, Richard asked.
-In particular, or in general?
-In particular.
Cletus flashing a neutral smile.
-Anytime’s much the same as tuther with Asa, he said. The standard deviation is low.
They sat in silence a moment. Cletus looking expressionless at Richard, very still. Richard glancing around.
-By the way lad, Cletus said, smiling again. Speakin’ o’ brother Asa, have ye seen them new sleuthhounds’a Gunderson’s?
-Sleuthhounds? I’m not sure i’d know sleuthound to s…
-Wouldn’ know a sleuthhound, eh? Well, how times change, how times change. You know back when we was young, the twins Asa and Silas had them as fine a pack o’ sleuthounds as ever you saw. Ran em to coons up here on the tract and down in the tobaccolands too. Even better runnin’ em down there. Come November with the pelts primed up, mind. Them crisp nights a singin’ with song o’ the sleuthound givin’ tongue.
Cletus paused for a response. None came.
-It was good money for them primed-up pelts, he said. Still is, lad. Still is. Well, to folks like us. You know what i mean?
Richard appeared to be formulating some words but none forthcame.
-Anyways, they just let them hounds roam the resta the year, can ye imagine that today lad, just lettin’ your hounds roam the countryside? Well that’s what they did.
-I can’t imagine having hounds, Richard said, sipping his cola and glancing about. Cletus looking at him with his eyebrows raised. Speaking of the tract, Richard said, I wondered, do you have any plans to do any serious farming up there or i…
-Too many cars bein’ the problem now lad, Cletus said, gesturing out the window at the street.
-Too many cars?
-Damn things’s a danger to dogs. Should be a limit on the number o’ cars. Wouldn’t be fair to the dogs to just let ‘em run now. Now would it son?
-Well, no I suppose it…
-Glad you agree. But back to the topic at hand, did you know them hounds’a Gunderson, they come all the way from the Rocky Mountains. From the foothills they say, from away out there. Can you imagine that?
Richard could not.
-Painter hounds, the elder went on. Repurposed for wilderness search and rescue they was an’ they excelled at their job too or Gunderson wouldn’ta wanted em. Not bein’ as stupid as he looks, lad. You hear what i’m sayin’? Not so stupid. Excelled with ’em out there, with them two hounds, them folks did, whoever they were. Until they cut the trail of a cat that is, in which case them hounds lost all interest in their man. Do you ken why that is, lad?
-Painter?
-Mountain lion, lad. Painter, panther, puma. Catamount. Won’t run a man no more when they cut cat sign, them two hounds. On account they were raised to run cats. D’ye ken that, boy?
-… I uh… you know I don’t know how long we have till The Mayor comes, do you mind…
-No I don’t mind a’tall, lad, don’t mind a’tall. I’m all yours, all yours. Mind-you the West being such a nest o’ painters to hear-tell, Cletus said, leaning in now and putting a startlingly large hand on Richard’s arm, speaking in hushed tones, now. It’s such a nest out there such that soon as they’d get on their man they’d lose the trail to one, sure’zshit. And that’s the answer to your question why Gunderson got such quality dogs so cheap.
-What’s Gunderson want with dogs?
-Want’s em t’ catch perps, lad, t’ catch perps. There being no such distraction here as big cats. Most everything bein’ hunted out ‘cept for the fox and the coyotes that’s moved in.
-Oh… You know, that tract up there…
-Oh, for sure, lad! For sure the coyotes is moved in up there. Gunderson hisself asked if he could work his hounds up there and who knows but maybe this’ll be a catalyst for Asa and maybe even ol’ Silas to start runnin’ hounds again.
Plumbetty came by with the coffeepot. No thanks, Richard said, putting his hand over his cup. Sure thing, and pour the lad one too, Cletus said. Richard took his hand away and she poured for them both and went off. Once them hounds is in your blood they don’t leave, Cletus said. Like malaria, them hounds. And the runnin’ of ‘em. D’ye know what a catalyst is by the way lad?
-Sure, it’s when something is…
-That’s exactly it, but mind lad, mind, the elder said, leaning in once more, did ye know that they put them new hounds’a Gunderson’s to use in the aftermath o’ the beating o’ that scumba… er, The Mayor’s boy, pardon.
-I seem to recall it d…
-No it didn’t. Didn’t work worth a damn on account of the rain later that night or some damn thing. Who can keep these things straight. Do you remember how it went?
-How it went?
-Thirsty is how it went lad! T’weren’t the rain atall, just testin’ ye there. Thirsty it went and thirsty they is, them dogs. I remember that about ‘em now, what little I ever knew. They’re just a thirsty damn dog. You know more than you let on i’d say by the look of you, doncha, Cletus said, winking at Richard. A brackener in the makin’ mayhap?
-Brackener…
-Though I’m wonderin’ now if it was somethin’ else I remember being thirsty. Some other critter.
-This coffee makes me thirsty, Richard said. I think they must sal…
-They do work hard, don’t get me wrong. Work they do, them hounds, but that don’t mean the constable needs ’em. Cletus lowering his voice again now, putting his paw on Richard’s arm a moment again. I think it’s a matter’a Gunderson is bored of his job, just ’tween you an’ me. Bored o’ his job an’ always like dogs. He just always really liked dogs is what.
-Here comes Ralph now Richard blurted, twisting in his seat in sudden animation. Do you mind if I just ask can you foresee a day not needing that…
-BUGLES! Cletus barked, slamming his hands down on the table, making the cuttlery jump, not a few of the other patrons. Making the coffee to slosh-over. Richard looking down at the spilt coffee, watching the stain spreading in the white tablecloth. Cletus looking straight at Richard, oblivious. Face beaming. Sitting up straight against the benchback, hands relaxed flat on the table in front of him and flashing the barricade of his broad grille of teeth. Richard looked up at him.
-Bugles?
-Bugles is the dogs what Gunderson loved most! Ran rabbits with ‘em ’e did. Loves ’is dogs does ol’ Gunderson, but here now comes His Worship. Your Worship, Cletus said, reaching out a hand to greet the arrival of an openly wincing Ralph Jones. And how’s the great plantocrat today? Hail the great planter, Cletus said as though addressing the entire room, and make ready to grant ’im an audience, lad!
-Oh, he’s got business elsewhere now I’m sure, Jones said forcing a smile and remaining standing. Don’t you, Richard?
-Oh nonsense, Cletus said. You two stay and have a nice meal together, I hear you got lots to discuss these days and it’s almost dinnertime. Standing up now before Richard could, inches taller than the man who had just arrived. Jones looking momentarily confused but then smiling and saying well alright then, and motioning Richard who was beginning to rise back down, saying I’m sorry and where’s my manners, and how did the meeting go anyway?
-It was grand, just grand, we were discussing the middle tract, weren’t we young man, as of course you’ve long expressed an interest in yourself Mister Mayor. Cletus pausing for effect. So listen just a moment before I go and while I got you here together, two more interested parties of the many’s come and gone, listen to somethin’ I gotta tell ya concerning that land, bin in the family since the Iroquois, mind, a lot has gone on with that land but you know it’s strange. Of all that’s come to pass with that tract do you know what it means to me most of all when I think of it today? He looked smiling from The Mayor still standing there to the seated youth and back again at The Mayor, until The Mayor made a gesture with his head, go on.
-Vultures, Cletus said, smiling at the two.
-Vultures? Richard said. The Mayor’s face a study in incredulity.
-That’s right lad, Cletus said, smiling. Seems whenever I bin up there one reason or another over time first thing I notice is a vulture, circling, sometimes one and sometimes two. Sometimes more, but always there. And I wonder what brings them this time, them creatures what profits from the misfortune of others. And I watch them circling there and I think waddya wanna bet they’re lookin’ down on me just as I’m lookin’ up at them – them down, and ol’Cletus up, mind - and them wishin’ they could spell another’s misfortune a'purpose mayhap. In order to profit, mind. Create that misfortune. My misfortune for instance. Them lookin’ down and me lookin’ up. And God help me standin’ there they figure it out, eh men? God help us all in this country, they do. The bemused expression melted from his face and there was a flat and loaded stillness in the room. Anyways, he said abruptly enough that both the others started, that’s always bin the middle tract. Vultures, circling. Putting a hand on The Mayor’s shoulder, heavy enough that it sagged. You’re gonna have to pardon my manners for rambling, please be my guest, Your Worship. Guiding him down now with his hand onto the bench he had relinquished. Please, Mister Mayor, there we go, there we go. I better run now, make sure that Asa and that strappin’ son o’ his ain’t staging a coup in my absence, you know how it is, and thank ye so much lad for the meetin’. You just feel free to come to ol’ Cletus anytime and don’t either o’ you dare pay for this, it’s goin on my tab. You hear that Betty, he said calling off towards the front as he went stalking off. Lobster for the two gentlemen, Betty, put it on my tab.
The tall form exiting, not looking back. The Mayor and Richard looking at each other tightmouthed.
-I’m really sorry, Mister, uh… Ralph. I really blew that for you.
-It was nothing I was looking forward to anyways, and now you can see why. It can wait another day, he said, letting out a sigh. At any rate, I told you it wouldn’t take long didn’t I?
-Seemed awful long to me.
-Get used to it.
-I guess there will be another day.
-There always is. Until there isn’t. This is the thing.
-This is the thing, isn’t it.
-This is the thing.
Richard put in an afternoon shift at the store. Sales were brisk with the reduced hours. Gary Tindle was catching on, sort of, as well as Henrietta Clamp who had been a librarian and wanted to learn something about business. He thought it was smarter to find older people looking for something stimulating but not overly challenging to occupy themselves within a pleasant small-town setting than to look for easily bored younger people for whom there would be no future here and who would just end up going off to school anyway. He went to the office and dealt with the orders for his invention which were pouring in and he realized he would have to find someone to help handle this, too. Maybe even Gary or Henrietta or both for a slight increase in wage.
He returned to Plumbetty’s for supper. Hilda Puslinch who was not unattractive behind her ratlike incisors was serving now, and she commented on the BMW he was driving, seeming friendlier than he ever remembered. Mentioned that she was going on to study entomology in the fall, but he didn’t know what that was. She stood with her hip cocked pointing in explanation to a cockroach traversing a stretch of wall, clarifying nothing for Richard, but making him start. She talked to him about the study of insects and stroked her hair and when she brought him the bill she winked at him and told him not to be a stranger. Perhaps she was not a lesbian after-all, Richard pondered as he left. He drove straight from Plumbetty’s the four minutes to the asylum. He stood a moment outside the car and looked at the land rising to the middle tract imagining it as he had seen it just up there over the rise and thinking with some frustration now of how good it would look with a well-planned development built on it and how easy it would be to sell the homes and then he thought of his adventure there with Lili. Something about the place drew him. He made up his mind that he’d ask her to go walking there again, wolves or no. He had heard that wolves were not dangerous anyway. They could check for vultures, see if Cletus McLeod could be trusted concerning the birdlife. Assuming he would know a vulture, and thinking it probable they were in reality limited to Africa. Feeling a pang that while he could ask his mother about them, he likely wouldn’t get a useful response anymore. Maybe ever again. At any rate, they would all have to find somewhere else to live, all these outdated lifeforms. He remembered now the lush beds of clover in the upper meadow and had in his mind a song about laying a girl down in a bed of clover but couldn’t remember the tune nor the lyrics, just the image.
The mockingbird was singing from the walnut tree as he approached the house. He mounted the steps and went down the hall and up the stairs meeting no one and wondering if his mother was the only one in the place. He glanced into the deserted room with the gridiron torn from the window and then turned and hesitated at his mother’s door. He thought he could hear wind keening from somewhere in the edifice only there was no wind. He focused on the sound and it immediately receded only to become audible once more the moment he quit focusing, like a white bloom on a dark night recedes from a direct stare only to reappear in the periphery of one’s gaze. He unlatched the door and entered her room. It was hot and stagnant. Anthea was rocking and did not look at him when he entered nor speak his name. If anything the rocking had gotten worse. Her beard seemed to be spreading for some reason although he felt it was not a bad look for her. A plate of uneaten food sat on her sidetable, some sort of breaded mass and some shriveled green beans. Several bluebottles conducting a survey of this asset as though they might raise a flag. Hi mom, he said, kissing her above the temple and smoothing back the hair from her forehead. How are you?
-Big water, she mumbled. Her voice seemed huskier. Big water.
Richard looked to her bedside table and saw that the glass and pitcher there were empty and dry. Frowning, he picked them up and took them out in the hall and latched the door behind him. Is there anyone here? Hello?! No answer. Does anybody work here, Chrissakes? Nothing. He went down the hall to a washroom he passed on his visits and filled the pitcher with water that stank of chlorine. He brought it back to her but she ignored it and he set it back down and turned on the oscillating fan and then sat in the visitor’s chair. Is there anyone working here mom, he asked.
-Window, she said reaching out to it and flapping her arm up and down. Window.
-I can’t open the window, mom. It’s wedged. He got up and opened the door again and flapped it back and forth on its hinges to move some air. Are you eating alright, he said whilst so engaged.
-Window… mockingbird.
-I know you want to hear the birds, mom, Richard said and suddenly began to weep uncontrolably. He attempted to retain a modicum of composure but it didn’t really matter as his mother was not looking at him and did not seem to notice.
-I want to hear them, she said.
Richard murmured goddammit and got up and went over to the window and tested it showing her that it was sealed shut.
-Can’t breathe, she said.
He shook his head in reflex agitation and went to her and kissed her temple. You can breathe if I can, he said. You won’t be here much longer, I promise. He left her room and after flapping the door some more he latched it shut and went down the backstair and through the hall and back out to his rental. He walked leaning forward a little so that the salt would run off his chin and not onto his good shirt. When a car passed he raised his right hand as though scratching his forehead so they could not see his face and when he lowered it he sniffed his fingers and immediately stopped weeping. He would have to have a stern talk with Philbert about the staffing issue.