Sacred Monster

Flashback 15B

The kitchen of the Malibu house was very modern, in white Formica and stainless steel. At the butcher-block central island sat Hoskins, in his butler’s tuxedo, obediently looking at photos being shown to him by Mom. Jack entered the room, unwary, then saw what was going on and tried to reverse his field and slide back on out of there. But it was too late; Mom had seen him. Looking up, waving a handful of photos at him, she said, “Come here, Sonny. Cousin Gertrude sent more pictures.”

“That’s nice,” Jack said, from the doorway. “You and Hoskins—”

“I want you to see these pictures, Sonny,” Mom insisted.

Reluctantly, Jack crossed the room, stood beside Hoskins, and looked down at the pictures.

“Here’s Edwina on her sled,” Mom said. “Cute?”

“Cute,” said Jack.

“Here’s Mabel’s Doberman pinscher with its new collar on,” Mom said. “Isn’t that adorable?”

“Adorable,” said Jack.

“Here’s Mrs. Wallace’s new refrigerator,” Mom said.

“Mom,” said Jack, “I don’t even know Mrs. Wallace.”

Suddenly furious, Mom turned hot, enraged eyes on Jack and snarled at him through gritted teeth: “You don’t have to know Mrs. Wallace to look at her new refrigerator.”

Jack nodded, his skin paler around the eyes. He bent his head to look at Mrs. Wallace’s refrigerator.

My hand is in front of my eyes because of that sunlight, that sunlight pressing down on me, like looking up through water at the sky and seeing only white, the waves moving, the whiteness glaring on my eyeballs.

“Mr. Pine?”

“Yes yes yes,” I say. “I’m all right. I’m here. I know what’s going on. You are interviewing me. I am telling you my story. I am telling you about Mom and Dad, and how after a while Buddy and I decided maybe it would be better if we moved away from the beach for a while.”