Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack! (13 page)

“I’ve missed you,” Tucker said.

“‘For thou wilt light my candle: the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness,’” Wendy rattled off.

“Are you leaving now?” Tucker said. “I’m leaving now. I could walk you home.”

“I think Dinky has something to tell you,” Natalia said.

“Then can I walk you home?”

Natalia nodded.

Upstairs, Dinky was in the process of finishing a large collage she was making with a twelve-year-old black boy named William. There was a pile of magazines on the floor beside them. They were working on a large sheet of light blue paper, cutting out pictures of people yawning or sleeping and pasting it to the paper. They had also pasted on words like “Ho hum!” “Boring!” “Snore!” “Groan!” and “So What!”

“What biblical theme is that?” Tucker asked William.

“Don’t tell him until we’re through,” Dinky said. “We’ll be through in a minute or two, as soon as I paste on the Bible verse.” Then she said, “You have to take Nader, Tucker. She has to be out by tonight!”

“I can’t take her and you know it,” Tucker said.

“Then she’s going to her final reward, over at the A.S.P.C.A. gas chamber.”

“You’re pretty calm about it,” Tucker said.

“One thing I’m not, these days, is calm,” Dinky said.

“That’s true,” Natalia said.

“Here’s a 13,” William said, handing it to Dinky to paste after the word “Hebrews.”

“Now look for an 8,” Dinky told him. She said to Tucker, “I’m not taking those injections, after all. My father didn’t want me shooting up. I’m on Preludin, instead, and it keeps me hopped up, so don’t call me calm about anything, but Nader has to go.”

“Don’t talk so fast,” Tucker said.

“Don’t tell me how fast to talk,” Dinky said. “My motor’s running.”

“What’s Preludin?” Tucker said.

“They’re diet pills. They take away my appetite. I’m going to lose twenty-five pounds by Valentine’s Day. Tell that to the storm trooper in Maine.”

“What’s Nader done?” Tucker said.

“Her motor’s running, too. She’s peeing on everything in sight.”

“You shouldn’t say someone’s peeing,” William said. “You should say someone’s going to the bathroom.”

“Well, she’s not going to the bathroom,” Dinky told him. “That’s the whole point.”

“Here’s an 8,” William said.

“Paste it on,” Dinky said.

“I can’t take Nader,” Tucker said.

“Maybe they won’t gas her,” Dinky said. “I hear they sell some to hospitals so they can experiment on them. I hear they perform these gruesome experiments on helpless animals in the name of science. First they dip them in boiling water and then they dip them in freezing water, I hear, and sometimes they skin them alive.”

“You shouldn’t be talking like that,” William said. “I shouldn’t be listening to stuff like this, I don’t think.”

“Listen, William, it’s a tough world,” Dinky said. “If you don’t speak out, you get the shaft. Remember that. An animal can’t speak out, so unless someone takes pity on it, it gets the shaft. It’s the same with some people. The meek don’t inherit the earth, I don’t care what the Bible says. The meek inherit the shaft.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Natalia said.

“Why shouldn’t I tell him the truth?” Dinky said. “You yourself never got anyplace until you started rhyming. Why do you think you had to rhyme that way? To get attention!”

“Don’t mention attention,” Natalia said.

“Don’t get nervous just because I’m stating a few facts of life,” said Dinky. “Life isn’t anything to get nervous about; it’s something to get furious at.”

She held up the finished collage. Superimposed across the pictures of everyone sleeping and yawning, and the words: “Ho hum!” “Boring!” “Snore!” “Groan!” and “So What!” was:

HEBREWS 13:8

“Is it done?” William said.

“Right,” Dinky said. “Our biblical theme is boredom.”

“There’s nothing about boredom in the Bible,” Tucker said.

“How would you know?” Dinky said. “My mother says you and your family only show up in church once a year.”

“You’re in a nice mood today,” Tucker said.

“Preludin never promised anyone a rose garden,” Dinky said. “It makes you more alert, so you see all the flyspecks and dog-doo in life. It takes away your appetite for more than just food.”

“It takes away your mood,” Natalia said.

“Oh, stop rhyming. It’s just as boring as Hebrews 13:8 says everything is.”

“What
does
Hebrews 13:8 say, anyway?” Tucker said.

“It’s my new motto,” Dinky answered. “‘Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.’”

Tucker walked Natalia back to the Hockers’, and on the way Natalia began to cry.

“She didn’t really mean what she said about your rhyming,” Tucker said.

Natalia didn’t answer.

“She’s just very unhappy,” Tucker said. “She’s just really angry. Remember that day she said a psychologist told her fat people had anger bottled up in them?”

Natalia nodded.

“Well, it’s coming out now,” Tucker said.

Natalia blew her nose on a Kleenex.

Tucker said, “I’ll take Nader home with me. My father will have a fit, but I can’t do anything else, can I?”

“N-no,” Natalia managed.

“I get nervous, too,” Tucker said. “When I get nervous, I go to the library and hang around. The libraries are filled with people who are nervous. You can blend in with them there. You’re bound to see someone more nervous than you are in a library. Sometimes the librarians themselves are more nervous than you are. I’ll probably be a librarian for that reason. Then if I’m nervous on the job, it won’t show. I’ll just stamp books and look up things for people and run back and forth to the staff room sneaking smokes until I get hold of myself. A library is a great place to hide.”

Natalia said, “I have trouble with one-to-one relationships.” She blurted it out very fast, as though she might not have said it at all if she’d hesitated.

“I have trouble with relationships in general,” Tucker said. “I don’t even think I have any relationships.”

“Everyone has them,” Natalia said softly.

“I don’t
think I
do,” Tucker said. “I have parents and I have a few friends, but I don’t have relationships. I mean, my parents tell me what to do and I do it. And I tell my friends what I’ve done and they tell me what they’ve done. Are those relationships? No one even asks me my opinion on anything.”

“I would,” Natalia said.

“On what would you ask my opinion?” Tucker said. “On what?”

Natalia shrugged.

“Right,” Tucker said. “There’s no answer to that question. I have no style.”

“I like you,” Natalia said.

“Why?” Tucker said.

“Because of everything you just said,” Natalia said. “That’s neat. I don’t think I have any relationships, either. All the time I’ve been worrying about one-to-one relationships, but I’ve never had one, either, probably. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“We certainly don’t have a relationship of any kind,” Tucker said. “We couldn’t even make conversation that night we were out with Susan and P. John.”

“I know it,” Natalia said.

“We’ve never even had a conversation unless we were writing inside balloons, or Susan was with us.”

“That’s really true,” Natalia said.

“Susan and P. John had more of a relationship than we ever did. We’re basically inadequate.”

“I
always
was,” Natalia said.

“I’m just too young to date, I guess,” Tucker said. “I lack pizazz.”

“That’s neat,” Natalia said.

“To lack pizazz?”

“To know it,” Natalia said. “Once you know it, you don’t have to pretend anymore. You can just relax. You don’t have to have relationships.”

“I’ll have to think about all this,” Tucker said.

They had arrived at the Hockers’.

Mrs. Hocker must have been peering at them through the Venetian blinds, because she came to the door and opened it while they were standing out front. “Come in, come in,” she said. “It’s warmer in here than out there.”

“I just came to get Nader,” Tucker said.

“What about your father’s allergy, Tucker?” Mrs. Hocker said.

“I don’t know,” Tucker said. “We’ll just have to see how long it takes to find her a new home.”

Natalia said, “Maybe a new girl will take Nader now.”

Tucker heard what she said, but there was something about her tone of voice that made him react as though he hadn’t heard, a sadness of some sort. He said, “What?”

“Nothing,” Natalia said.

They were standing there looking at each other, with Mrs. Hocker between them, under the bright light in the foyer.

“What does it matter, anyway?” Tucker said, answering her remark then about the new girl, while they both stared at each other. She didn’t look away from his face for a long moment, and in the meantime Tucker had this feeling that something was happening to them. What he felt was this punch to his insides while their faces were fixed on each other.

When she finally dropped her glance, he felt weak-kneed.

“What does it matter, anyway?” she repeated what he had said.

“I
said
that.” His voice was strangely hoarse.

“I know,” she almost whispered.

“Natalia,” Mrs. Hocker said, “get Nader’s carrying case.”

Tarrying place, burying place, marrying face,
Tucker thought while he stood there watching Natalia walk down the hall,
what’s happening to me, anyway
?

Before Tucker went home with Nader, he stopped on Montague Street and picked up the ingredients for Mushroom Dream and a large bag of cat litter.

He fixed Nader’s pan, and then he made the casserole and put it in the oven.

He sat down and read a letter which was waiting for him from P. John.

It was hard to concentrate on the letter, because he kept trying to remember his conversation with Natalia.

The one time they had had a conversation alone together, and he could hardly remember it.

He could close his eyes, though, and get back some of the feeling that had been there in the foyer. It was a completely physical feeling, but the strange part about it was that it didn’t seem to be a sexual feeling. It wasn’t the kind of sensation he had sometimes after reading sexy parts in novels, or while seeing sexy photographs, nor was it like feelings he had after sexy daydreams.

It was just this strong feeling, completely physical, done with eyes.

Eyes.

Nader was tearing around the house knocking things off tables, and Tucker finally caught her, held her on his lap, and talked to her.

She fell asleep eventually and Tucker, too, calmed down long enough to see what P. John had to say:

Dear Tucker,

Did you give my letter to Susan or not? I haven’t heard from her. I haven’t heard much from my father, either, so I guess he’s still angry with me. Dewey can’t even get bail, though I hear Mr. Hocker tried his best.

At Leeds we are divided into two teams every month. I am on the management team this month. We try to direct the labor team, which is supposed to do most of the chores. Like labor anywhere, they are lazy and demanding, but I am in charge of management mediation and I know how to be tough. It’s really good experience, though I have very little time to work on my writing. There are so many disputes to settle! I get a lot of satisfaction out of putting my ideas to the test.

I’m not even trying to diet, and I’m losing weight.

How is Susan doing? Is she in WW or not?

I’m not particularly broken-hearted because she hasn’t written, but I wonder if she got my letter, that’s all.

We have girls at Leeds, too, but I haven’t met one yet I like that much.

Are Susan’s parents still down on me? I suppose they are. Are you still blacklisted, too?

A political science course here actually assigns one of my father’s books. But they read conservative thinkers, too, so no one is brainwashed. I was just surprised they assign him.

Best wishes,

P. John Knight

T
HAT FRIDAY, THE HOCKERS
and Natalia were invited to dinner. Tucker’s mother was eager to talk with Mr. Hocker about her class in Constitutional Law. Tucker’s father agreed to let Tucker, Natalia, and Dinky prepare everything, providing Mushroom Dream was not on the menu.

When Natalia arrived with the groceries around five that afternoon, Dinky was not with her.

“She’s being punished,” Natalia said. “She got William in trouble at his Sunday School, and his mother called Aunt Helen about it.”

Tucker took the Bohack bag from her arms and began unloading it.

He said, “How did she get William in trouble? Was it the collage?”

“No. She kept the collage.”

“Then how did she get him in trouble?”

“She taught him this riddle.”

“Go on,” Tucker said, “what riddle?”

“It’s not very nice,” Natalia said. Then she laughed and covered her mouth with her hand quickly, as though her laughter had been an accident. She said, “Actually it’s just a play on words. I mean, it isn’t a
bad
word. It doesn’t mean anything bad. But it goes against the rules, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Tucker said. “Just tell me the riddle.”

“Okay,” Natalia said, “but it isn’t my riddle.”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay,” Natalia said. “What was the slipperiest day in Bethlehem?”

“I give up.”

“It was the day Joseph came through on his ass.”

“I see what you mean,” Tucker grinned.

“Ass means buttocks, and there’s nothing wrong with buttocks unless you call them your ass. If ass is only supposed to mean donkey, then it shouldn’t be in the dictionary that it also means buttocks. Do you agree with me, Tucker?”

“No,” Tucker said, “because the dictionary doesn’t dictate what words are proper or improper—it just tells you what words are in use.”

“Then how did ass get to be an improper word for buttocks?”

“It’s all tied in with sex,” Tucker said. “When they made the rules, they decided that any part of your body that isn’t supposed to show isn’t supposed to be called by a slang name. Parts of your body that you don’t show are supposed to be connected with sex.”