Darkhouse

TWENTY-SIX

Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1990

Donnie looked down at an imaginary clipboard. ‘I’m lookin’ for a Homemaker,’ he called. ‘A Miss Suzy Homemaker.’

‘Very fuckin’ funny.’ Duke was standing in his front yard in grey track pants and a pair of yellow rubber gloves. He was wringing dirty water out of a dish cloth.

‘Well, holy shit,’ said Donnie. ‘Your house was white all along.’

‘He’s on fire this mornin’.’

Donnie stepped around a pail of water to get closer to the clapboard house. The left hand side was a dull brownish grey and the right side had been washed down, leaving it as white as it was ever going to be. The paint was chipped and peeling and skinny rivers of dirty water had dried onto the surface.

‘You need to blast this with a hose,’ said Donnie.

‘Yeah, after I do my little rain dance here in the yard,’ said Duke.

Donnie made a move to sit on the step.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ shouted Duke, throwing a wet sponge hard against his bare chest.

‘Son of a bitch,’ said Donnie. He picked up the sponge, slapped it into the pail beside him and threw it back, wide. Duke laughed, then ran after him, grabbing him from behind. Donnie wriggled against him. ‘Aw, c’mon,’ he said. Duke ground the filthy sponge into Donnie’s face until he was weak from laughing.

Donnie pulled away, leaning over and spitting out grit. ‘Point fuckin’ blank,’ he said, shaking his head. He went into the house, and stuck his head under the cold tap. ‘Isn’t it weird not havin’ Wanda here?’ he called. He got no reply. ‘I said,’ he shouted, sticking his head out the window, ‘isn’t it weird—’

‘I heard you the first time,’ said Duke.

Donnie came back out, grabbed the sponge from the pail and started washing down the wood.

Every few minutes, he stopped and said, ‘I hate this shit.’

Duke ignored him.

‘I really do,’ said Donnie. ‘I hate this shit.’

‘That’s it,’ said Duke. ‘Go over and pack some of that crap away. Do you think that’s a job you can handle?’

‘Hallelujah.’ Donnie threw down his sponge and walked over to a big cardboard box marked with an X.

‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘Anythin’ with an X we’re gettin’ rid of.’

‘Yes,’ said Duke. ‘Like I said.’

Donnie looked around the yard and saw Xs everywhere.

‘Didn’t you leave anythin’ inside?’

He bent down to one of the boxes.

‘The mystery box from the closet. I recognise the Keep Out sticker. You know that was supposed to be for your bedroom door.’

He wrapped his arms around it and lifted it to waist height. But he squeezed too hard and the bottom fell through. He stared, open-mouthed.

‘Where did you get all this shit?’ he asked. He turned around to Duke for an answer, but Duke was staring into space. Donnie knelt down and started picking through the piles of toys, all unopened. Pristine action heroes behind clear plastic windows, tipper trucks, fighter planes, boxing gloves, a candy dispenser, a mechanic’s tool kit. Bright primary colours shining in the sun.

‘You had Space Invaders all along?’ blurted Donnie, pointing to another box. ‘Hey, look at this little guy,’ he said, picking up a pale yellow teddybear with a tag that said Benton. ‘How could you hide poor Benton here in a dark closet…’ he picked up a tall black figure, ‘…with Darth Vader. Unless he’s…’ he lowered his voice dramatically, ‘…his father.’ He laughed nervously. He looked over at Duke. He waited in the silence, then stood up and started packing the toys into an empty box beside him, holding each one in his hand a fraction longer than he had to.

‘Maybe…I mean, shouldn’t these be goin’ to some children’s home or somethin’?’

‘Are you fuckin’ blind? There’s an X on the side of that box. A big fuckin’ black X.’

Duke carried a pot of red paint into his bedroom. The walls were grey and streaked with beige. Wanda had never finished the wallpaper job she started when they moved in.

‘OK. What’s next?’ said Donnie, walking in behind him. He looked around the room, rubbing his bare belly with his hand. ‘The dresser?’

‘I’m thinkin’ of doin’ one wall red, one wall black,’ said Duke, pointing. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘That’s cool. Are we takin’ the dresser?’ he said, slapping the top of it.

‘Yup,’ said Duke.

They bent down and gripped each end, rocking it back to keep the drawers from sliding. Donnie slammed his shoulder into the door jamb on the way through.

‘Goddammit,’ he said. He dropped his end and reached around to feel the damage. ‘There’s a big flap of skin back here,’ he said.

‘I’ll get you some ointment in a minute,’ said Duke. ‘Now, take a hold of this and get movin’.’

‘In the pickup?’ said Donnie, backing down the front steps.

‘Yup,’ said Duke.

They heaved it up and walked back towards the house.

‘That’s it, except for the bed,’ said Donnie.

‘I’ll take care of that,’ said Duke.

‘Not on your own, you won’t.’

‘Go have a cigarette,’ said Duke, taking the steps two at a time.

Donnie shrugged, pulled a pack of Marlboro from his jeans and walked into a shaded corner of the yard. He could see Duke silhouetted in the window, struggling to keep the mattress upright.

‘I can come in, help you, when I finish this,’ he shouted.

‘I got it,’ said Duke, letting the mattress spring back onto the bed. He disappeared, then showed up minutes later with a saw.

‘Probably right,’ said Donnie when he walked back into the room. He looked around at the chunks of wood and mattress. ‘I don’t think the whole thing would have fitted through the door.’

Duke threw down the saw.

‘Ointment,’ said Donnie.

‘Oh yeah. In the bathroom.’

Duke opened the cabinet and pulled out a flattened tube curled up almost to the top. He squeezed some ointment onto his finger tip and turned Donnie by the shoulders towards the light. Donnie caught sight of himself in a mirror on the door and sucked in his gut.

‘Have you done it yet?’ he asked, trying to crane his neck around.

‘I’m doin’ it right now,’ said Duke, smoothing the ointment in gentle strokes across the broken skin. He picked the tube up again and squeezed out more. Donnie shifted slightly on his feet.

Duke stepped back. His hand hovered, trembling, over the base of Donnie’s spine.