The Late Child (15 page)

“Where is this Grand Canyon?” Neddie asked, once they were rolling again. “Me and Dick meant to have a look at it on our honeymoon, but then the cow fell into the cistern and we never got out of Tarwater.”

“It's in Arizona,” Harmony said. “Ross and I meant to go there too, but we never got off.”

“What was your excuse, lust?” Pat asked. “Or can you remember that far back?”

Harmony tried her best to remember why she and Ross had skipped their honeymoon to the Grand Canyon but her memory failed her.

“I think I had a bladder infection,” she offered.

“Lust, what'd I tell you?” Pat said, directing her remark to Neddie, who was still driving.

“I don't think so, Pat,” Harmony said, annoyed that her sister's sex addiction seemed to come into every conversation. Why couldn't she just give it a rest? She knew that she and Ross had been lovers at some point, otherwise Pepper would never have been born, but now that it was many years later she couldn't remember or imagine why she would even consider sleeping with Ross.

“Where did you go on
your
honeymoons, Pat?” she asked. She thought it was interesting, which place people planned to go on their honeymoons, even if most of them never made it anywhere near the place.

“Which honeymoon would you like to hear about? Cozumel was the best,” Pat said. “I guess I'll never run off with that cowboy, he was too shy to look at me.”

“Eat your eggs, honey, I won't harass you anymore,” Pat had said to Jethro, as they were leaving.

“‘Harass' is not a very nice word,” Eddie remarked.

“Oh shut up, Eddie,” Pat said. “You're gonna end up an educated fool if you're not careful.”

“Keep on with your hunger strike, little buddy,” one of the cowboys said. “Don't let these tough old girls wear you down.”

“I'm only going to do it until my arms fall off,” Eddie had said.

“I don't remember my second honeymoon too well,” Pat said now. “In fact I don't remember my second husband too well.”

“That's a fine comment, you were married to him fourteen years,” Neddie said.

“I know, but it feels like it happened in another life, or to somebody else, you know?” Pat said.

“Pat, that's how my whole life feels,” Harmony said. “All of it feels like it happened to someone else.”

“I don't like this talk,” Eddie said. “It makes me want to be abducted.”

“I know just how you feel, Eddie,” Neddie said.

“We need music—turn on the music,” Eddie said. “See if you can find Iggy Pop for me, Mom.”

“Iggy Pop … is that a potty joke, or what?” Pat asked.

“I doubt we could find a radio station way out here that would be playing Iggy Pop,” Harmony said. “We're just about to go into Arizona.”

“Arizona might have Iggy Pop, too,” Eddie said. “It's still in America.”

“Who is this Iggy Pop?” Neddie asked. “I can't believe the things this kid has heard of.”

“You must be an alien, Aunt Neddie,” Eddie said. “Everybody knows who Iggy Pop is. He's on MTV every day.”

Neddie kept driving.

“Mom, there's an alien driving Gary's car,” Eddie said. “It has to be an alien disguised as my Aunt Neddie, because everyone on Earth knows who Iggy Pop is.”

“My kids probably like him too,” Neddie said, intimidated by Eddie's confident tone.

“Iggy Pop is just a rock star,” Harmony said.

“You watch too much TV, it's your mother's fault,” Pat said, to Eddie. “You ought to be outside, getting into mischief, like other little boys. When we get to Oklahoma your grandpa will take you fishing. Then you'll be a lot happier.”

“I'd be a lot happier if I could hear some Iggy Pop right now,” Eddie said.

“If I don't get to hear Iggy I'll never be happy again,” he added.

Harmony sighed, and turned on the radio. Then, to her surprise and everyone else's, she began to scream. She had not expected to scream, but then she had not expected to beat her sister Pat with the couch pillow the night before, either. Normally
Harmony could track herself as she swayed out of one mood and into another, but in the part of her life that she was living at the moment, the tracking ability had deserted her. She had ceased to be able to anticipate, even by a second or two, which way a mood might break. One moment she was packing, the next moment she was beating Pat with the pillow. One moment she was turning off the radio, like a normal mom whose son had just rejected a particular song or singer, the next moment she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Oops, she's lost it, she's blowing wild,” Pat said. “You better slow down, Neddie. She might try to jump out of the car.”

“Mom, I was just teasing,” Eddie said, assuming that his mom was screaming because he had threatened to allow himself to be abducted.

To his surprise, his mother kept on screaming. She began to beat her fists against the car seat, too.

“We just passed into Arizona,” Neddie said, speaking loudly so as to be heard over Harmony's screams.

“I wonder where the nuthouse is in this state,” Pat yelled. “Harmony might need to go to the quiet room for a while.”

“No!” Eddie said, with emphasis. “My mom said we could go to the Grand Canyon and buy souvenirs.”

“Yeah, but your mom's gone bananas,” Pat pointed out. “Shut up, Harmony. None of us can hear ourselves think with you screaming like that.”

“I don't care if you think!” Harmony yelled. “I don't care if you jump out of the car! I don't care if we all fall into the Grand Canyon! I don't even care if Eddie gets abducted!”

“Mom, I won't,” Eddie assured her, patting his mother's knee. “I was just teasing. I don't want to get abducted. I want to stay with you and my aunts.”

To Eddie's relief, his mother began to calm down a little. She was still making a good bit of noise, but it was more like crying than screaming. He decided the threat to let himself be abducted had been going a little too far.

“My mistake, I'm sorry,” he said, giving his mom a hug.

No one said a word, for a mile or two, as Harmony gradually grew more calm. She herself wasn't sure she was really growing more calm. She wasn't screaming outside anymore, but she was still screaming inside—any second she might flip and start yelling at the top of her lungs again, even if Eddie
had
apologized for threatening to let himself be abducted.

“It's a long-looking old road, this road going into Arizona,” Neddie said.

“I hope the cowboys are a little livelier than that dud I tried to pick up in Nevada,” Pat said.

“Can we still go to the Grand Canyon and get the souvenirs?” Eddie asked. “I'm thinking of breaking my hunger strike and eating some Oreos if we're still going to get the souvenirs.”

“Eddie, that's emotional blackmail,” Pat pointed out.

“Pat, he has the right, I'm his mother,” Harmony said, opening the package of cookies with relief.

Harmony had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, but when they got to it, a little late in the day, she didn't get out of the car. She caught glimpses of the canyon from several observation points—obviously it was a very large canyon. She couldn't see all the way to the bottom from any of the observation points, but she could see far enough down to know she wanted to stay in the car.

“Why, Mom? It's very safe, there's a wall,” Eddie told her, when they were parked at the observation point that had the souvenir shop.

“You won't fall, Mom,” he added. “I'll hold your hand.”

“Leave her alone, Eddie—she's tuckered out from grief,” Pat said. “Let's you and me go look through one of the telescopes.”

“We can't,” Eddie said. “Japanese people are looking through the telescopes—
all
the telescopes.”

Harmony looked out the window and saw that Eddie was right. There were a dozen or so telescopes spaced around the rim of the observation deck; behind each of them was a line of Japanese people.

“It's okay,” Eddie said, quickly. “I'd rather buy souvenirs, anyway.”

“That's not a good attitude,” Pat said. “The Grand Canyon is one of the seven wonders of the world. I've waited all my life to see it, myself. How come you'd rather buy tacky souvenirs in a stupid gift shop than look through a telescope at one of the seven wonders of the world?”

“I just would,” Eddie said. “If I could go to the moon it might be different. If I could go to the moon I wouldn't care if I didn't buy
any
souvenirs.

“By the time I grow up maybe there'll be space buses to the moon,” Eddie added. “I hope so. I want to meet some moon people.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the moon uninhabited?”
his Aunt Neddie asked. “I don't think the astronauts met any moon men when they went to the moon.”

“No, moon people are invisible,” Eddie said. “Stand me on the car and I'll look into the Grand Canyon for a minute, before we buy any souvenirs.”

“That's gracious of you,” Pat said.

“If I wasn't so tired I'd scream some more,” Harmony said. “It felt good to scream like that.”

“But it's very impolite, Mom,” Eddie pointed out. “It's even impolite to raise your voice.”

“What if I can't help it, Eddie?” Harmony asked. “What if a scream just comes out?”

“Well, the Japanese people might think it's Godzilla,” Eddie warned her. He crawled out a window and managed to hoist himself onto the top of the car, from which he had a nice view of many Japanese people looking through telescopes at the Grand Canyon.

Far away, Eddie could see a great space, bluish in color.

“He's even heard of Godzilla,” Neddie said. “What if Eddie's a genius?”

“No, he just watches
Mystery Science Theater
,” Harmony said. “They show a lot of Godzilla movies.”

“I wonder if they have Evel Knievel souvenirs?” Eddie said, from his post on top of the car. “He jumped the Grand Canyon on his motorcycle.”

“Nope, that was the Snake River Canyon he tried to jump,” Aunt Pat said. “He didn't make it, either. He opened his parachute too soon.”

Eddie lay down on the car and edged his head out far enough that he could peek down and look his aunt in the eye.

“Don't say those words to me,” he said, but he said it mildly. “I was talking about the Evel Knievel in my dream. He jumped over the Grand Canyon and landed on the moon, and the moon people gave him popcorn.”

“Oh, Eddie, that was me,” Harmony said. “I gave Evel Knievel
popcorn in the casino one night. He used to want to have a date with me.”

“No, he lives on the moon,” Eddie assured her. “I guess you flew to the moon and gave him popcorn. Did it have butter on it?”

“A lot of butter,” Harmony assured him.

Neddie grew tired of the silly conversation, got out, lifted Eddie off the roof of Gary's car, and proceeded with him to the gift shop. Eddie pretended he was a small Japanese prince. He bowed to several Japanese tourists, who, in turn, bowed politely to him.

“I love that kid,” Pat said. “There's just something happy-making about Eddie. Just looking at him lifts my spirits.”

Usually, Harmony could have said the same, and would have said the same; but at the moment her spirit was so weary that even the sight of Eddie being a Japanese prince couldn't raise it much.

“What was that about Evel Knievel?” Pat asked. She had a keen interest in the lives of celebrities—particularly their sex lives.

“He saw my show seven times,” Harmony said. “Of course, he didn't have to pay. The casinos just let him in.”

“Did he have the hots for you, or was he after someone else?” Pat asked.

“Pat, I don't have sex addiction,” Harmony told her. “He was after me, but I never went out with him. I just bought him popcorn one day at the Trop.”

“Who said anything about sex addiction?” Pat asked.

“He wanted to take me for a ride on his motorcycle, but I was scared,” Harmony admitted.

“Of the motorcycle, or of getting involved with Evel?” Pat asked.

“Pat, I can't remember,” Harmony said. “He had pins in his limbs from all his accidents. He walked kind of stiff, but he was real polite.”

“I would hope so,” Pat said. “How many celebrities have you actually slept with, Harmony?”

Harmony pretended that she didn't hear the question. She thought it was a rude question, particularly so under the circumstances, which were that they were at the Grand Canyon, it was hot, she was tired, and Pepper was dead. How could it possibly matter how many celebrities she had slept with?

“Pat, mind your own business,” Harmony said.

“I'm just curious—when you stop being curious it's taps time,” Pat said. “Taps is that song Montgomery Clift played when Frank Sinatra died, in
From Here to Eternity
.”

“Dan Duryea,” Harmony said quietly.

“Who?” Pat asked.

“Dan Duryea,” Harmony repeated.

“Dan Duryea what?” Pat asked.

“I slept with him,” Harmony said. “He was the only celebrity I ever slept with. I nearly slept with Rory Calhoun, but I didn't.”

Pat blinked a couple of times, at that piece of information.

“Wait a minute, maybe I need to clean out my ears,” Pat said. “Didn't you know Elvis and Frank Sinatra and Liberace and Wayne Newton—and Barry Manilow?” Pat asked.

“Yes, I knew them—at least I met them,” Harmony said.

“Did you go out with any of them?”

“Sometimes they would ask me to eat, after their act,” Harmony said.

“But you never slept with any of them?”

“No,” Harmony said. “They were very busy. The shows took a lot out of them.”