House of Leaves (78 page)

I love you so much.

You are all I have.

P.

June 23, 1987

Dearest man-child of mine,

No sign from you. Just days folding endlessly into more days. The cancer of ages. The knots of rain not reason. And no, aspirin won’t help. Won’t help. Won’t.

My hands resemble some ancient tree: the roots that bind up the earth, the rock and the ceaselessly nibbling wordms.

But you are too young for trees to know anything of their lives. Oh what a crippled existence 900 years must lead.

I am truly

only yours,

P.

July 31, 1987

D. D. Only love of mine Johnny,

I live at the end of some interminable corridor which the lucky damned can call hell but which the much unluckier atheists—and your mother heads up that bunch—must simply get used to calling home.

Yo soy una extrana en esta lugar sin ti.

Love love, love you so

much,

P.

August 13,197

My dear and only spark of hope,

Burn brightly. Still. Why do I feel I will never see you again?

Lovingly still,

P.

September 24, 1987

Dear dearest Johnny,

I write you now with the greatest urgency. Your failure to respond or even appear I forgive completely. All previous things I have been subjected to pale in comparison to this latest turn of events. I will be lucky if I live out this hour. I cannot even leave my bed.
The New Director. The New Director. The new Director.

December 26, 1987

Dear Johnny, reason for devotion, devotion itself,

Yack! Again these dark ribbons wrap me up like a present, a cHrIStmas present, this present, never found, never opened. Tossed like a doll, Spanish. Of course.

Dell’oro, del oro, deloro.

The ripe earth yawns daily to swallow me.

Love’s love in her blackest season.

P.

January 3. 1988

Sweet, sweet Johnny,

Though you never ask, how many times must I respond? It was an accident. It was an accident.
It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It
was
.
I never meant to burn you. I never meant to mark you. You were only four and I was terrible in the kitchen. I’m sorry, so sorry, so so very sorry. Please forgive me please. Please. Please

January 11, 1988

Dear dear dear dear
d
ear dear dear dear
dear dear dear D
ear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dE
ar d
ear dear dear dE
ar dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear deA
r d
ear dear deA
r dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear D
ear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear dear
dear dear dear dear dear dear dear d
ear dear deaR

abcdefghiJohnnyz

if you steal her once,

steal her twice,

or free us with a glance—

for an only child is the only chance

to end this wicked curse—

the only way, we say,

you rid a sea with dance

and banish love to verse.

P.

March
19, 1988

Dearest dear Johnny,

Do not forget your father stopped me and took me to The Whalestoe. You may remember. You may not. You were seven. It was the last time I saw you before I saw you again too many years later only to lose sight of you again.

Oh my child,

my dear
solitary
boy,

who abuses his mother with his silence,

who mocks her with his insupportable absence,

—how can you ever understand the awful weight of living, so ridiculously riddled with so many lies of tranquillity and bliss, at best half-covering but never actually easing the crushing weight of
it
all, merely guaranteeing a lifetime of the same, year after year after year after year after year after year, and all for what?

You were leaving as I

was leaving and so I

tried before that great

leaving to grant you

the greatest gift of all.

The purest gift of all.

The gift to end all gifts.

I kissed your cheeks and your head and after a while put my hands around your throat. Flow red your face got then even as your tiny and oh
80
delicate hands stayed clamped around my wrists. But you did not struggle the way I anticipated. You probably understood what I was doing for you. You were probably grateful. Yes, you were grateful.

Eventually though, your eyes became glassy and wandered away. Your grip loosened and you wet yourself. You did more than wet yourself.

I’ll never know how close you came to that fabled edge because your father suddenly arrived and roared in intervention, a battering blast of complete nonsense, but a word just the same and full of love too, powerful enough in fact to halt the action of another love, break its hold, even knock me back and so free you from me, myself and my infinite wish.

You were a mess but aside from a few evil coughs and dirty little pants and some half-moon cuts on the back of your neck, you recovered quickly enough.

I did not.

I had long, ridiculous purple nails back then. The first thing they did when I got here was tie me down and cut them off.

But
it
was love just the same Johnny. Believe me. For that, should I be ashamed? For wanting to protect you from the pain of living? From the pain of loving.

Always from loving. Always for loving.

Always.

Perhaps my shame should really come from my failure.

Tears just the same.

P.

April 12,
1988

The papers all say that “JOHNNY IS TRUANT!”

And his mother’s reportedly ruined.

He’s gone to the wind,

God knows how he’s sinned,

‘Cause in Latin he’s practically fluent.

P.

September 19, 1988

Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny

Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny,

Johnny

Johnny,

Johnny, Johnny,

Johnny,

Johnny,

thaumaturgist roots cardinal lemoine tarots porte dauphine mango rue des belles feuilles easter vexillology pelican I la St. John day embalmed windows yore trespasses rectopathic elephants place de la concorde karmic opaque Cimmerian

a person’s entity x-ray euphony gare MOMA

montparnasse overture Q1isling ohms

paralipomena stones hammers

sea prolix tide norths spoons eels

pompidou hints sour dolorously in

red lines ostracized virgin

evenings installment easter

spotted moon youth totemic

paraclete ogle irenic place de

la contrescarpe cloud de

thumbs easels quai

stay des célestins

cwms replete

antinomies

eidetic simple

Pigalle creatures

Wednesday

return jardin du

luxembourg

anguish meaning

issues noticing

guys pennying

Spanish stews

tawny pencil

townships crepe

restoration

slinking

toothless odor

opium runs

kettles hat hops

rituals embers

enjambed

educible

withering

mistaken