The Seventh Mansion Page 10

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  He knows, through the nails, so much more about the birch. Their skin like the cortical layer of bone, hard but porous, rough and smooth, their white that is really gray, yellow, brown, black, full of all the pits and wounds a living thing sustains. The nail slicing though time, ring after ring, pinning the first moment to this, him to the heart. Sneakers soft in the undergrowth. The eyes of the wrens on him, the gray fox, the mule deer, barred owl, Appalachian cottontail, they all know him now, the sound of Xie, the sound of the hammer on the nail. Half foe. The most vital portion of the wood hidden underground, arterial, billions of miles of microscopic fungal filaments connecting each tree to its others, thousands of roots binding earth to stone. You walk right over it. It is what allows you to walk at all. One tree to the next. And between them an invisible net, mineral, chemical, aqueous, photonic, that binds them to one another, you to them. The wood is alive. It knows how to live.

  * * *

  Waiting for FKK to take him to the next meeting. A black car he’s never seen pulls up in the driveway. Jo rolls the window down, holds out an arm. Hey whore, she says. Bet you couldn’t hear me coming. He stands, brushing his hands on his hips. What happened to your car? he asks. She grins. I sold it. Slapping the shiny door with her palm. Plug ’n’ play, bitches. Inside, the smell of plastic and microfiber and Jo’s new earthy scent, she doesn’t smoke anymore and washes her hair with what looks like a bar of soap, infused with hemp, Leni gave him some once and Erik took one sniff and said, Dear god. The new car weirdly quiet. When did you get it? This morning, Jo beams. It’s the first one in the county. I had to order it three months ago. Oh, Xie says. Blisters itchy on his palms, he hides them in his cuffs. They turn down roads he’s never seen, pavement turning to dirt, lightless except for the car. Are you sure you know where you’re going? Leni asks. Yes, Mother, Jo replies, because I know how to read a map. The headlights suddenly hit the white sides of a partially demolished three-story house. Something out of a horror film: broken glass, graffiti, whole walls missing and something green growing out of one side. Holy fuck, Leni whispers. It’s fine, Jo says. Leni doesn’t move. I said it’s fine. Leni sliding in slow motion from the car. In one of the rooms on the first floor the strong smell of weed and sweat, a younger crowd with intense eyes and cagey posture, a few familiar to Xie but most of them strangers, no Peter, though they all seem to know Jo and she slips among them as cool as he has ever seen her, slapping hands, chin tipped, Leni at her elbow, trying to hide her overbite by pushing her jaw out, turning to beckon Xie but he doesn’t follow. Suddenly tired, stuck, old bad feeling in his guts, what am I doing here. Wasting time. He circles back through what used to be a kitchen, great holes in the blackened linoleum showing straight through to a dirt basement. In the front room a cat paces in a figure eight, interior walls stripped to the studs, trash and old paint and sawdust littering the floor and every window broken open onto the night. Various species of shit petrified in the corners. Candles stuck in their own wax. The cat brushes its nose against his hand and he touches its back. Dozens of people spread throughout the house, footsteps overhead, Xie waiting for them to fall through the ceiling, careful to stay away from the center of the room. The cat threading between his legs and the wall. A girl comes in, alone, her eyes nervous around the room before meeting his, long blond hair from beneath a black beanie, tights and black velvet skirt, black jean jacket. He blinks. Hey, she says, I’m looking for Justin? Xie opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. Sorry, I don’t really know anyone around here. Little laugh at his own stupidity but she just nods, serious. Oh, well, that’s okay. Glancing again around the room. This place doesn’t seem super-safe. She reaches to pet the cat but it darts off before she can get her hands on it. Dusts her palms against her ass. This is a big group for the area, she says. There’s a university nearby, he says, E.A. started there, so. It’s like a hub, I heard. She squints. Are you from California? He nods. Me, too, she says. Berkeley. You look kind of familiar, did you do any work out there? No, I. Just started coming to these a year ago. I wasn’t that active in California. A pause. Hey, he says, sinking his fists into the pocket of his hoodie. Do you know, um, Nova, by any chance? The girl pushes her lips to the side. You mean the founder of Earth Alliance? Yeah, he says. I just. Wondered if you knew where she was, or. How to get a hold of her. No, sorry, the girl says, tucking her hair beneath her beanie. But someone here must, right? If you ask around? Yeah, Xie says, chin to his chest. Yeah, probably. A guy in a huge green army jacket comes in, spots the girl. Well, it was nice to meet you, she says, as Justin puts his arm around her neck, pulls her head to his lips for a kiss. Laughter beneath the window. Glass shattering against something upstairs, someone’s whoop, footsteps thumping down the staircase. Wishes Peter would show up but knows he won’t, the vibe of this place too dark for him, revolving around some fractured purpose that seems intentionally exclusionary, no community food table or sign-up sheets or chairs in a circle, just these bleakly intense pockets of activity, urgent but stalled at the same time. It’s like being in his own head, but worse. The cat reappears and puts its paws on his leg. What do you want, he says. It meows. He picks it up, careful, and takes it to the front steps, the cat purring rustily in his lap. A circle of girls smoking, casting incurious glances at Xie from the corners of their eyes. A boy in bright white Converse stalking out onto the porch, launching past Xie into the dirt, pursued by a trio of other boys trying to calm him. Man, chill, just chill! And the angry one turning on them, hard, arms up, Are you fucking hearing me? It used to be you needed clearance to come to these things, only people with a rep could join but now it’s a goddamn free-for-all, assholes are posting locations on fucking Facebook, how am I supposed to trust any of you bastards? Turning his eyes to Xie, the cat jumping away. I mean, who is this punk, huh, you come here and just fucking stare at shit, I mean who the fuck are you, how do I know you’re not working for the— Leni, from nowhere, heavy step across the rotting porch, Xie would not have believed someone as small as her could make her body so loud, getting right up in the guy’s face, yelling, Back up, and the guy trying to get past her but she doesn’t move, following his body with her own, holding his gaze even though she is shaking so hard her teeth chatter, why does she think she has to protect him, defend him? He wants to show them his hands, wants to shout, How do you know what I do? What I think? How I feel? If they want all this to themselves they can have it and he is off, like always, out to the car alone. Leni running up to his side, God, he’s so stupid, just ignore him. Xie’s furious shrug. He’s right. I don’t know why I even bother coming to this shit. Leni’s hand on his sleeve; he pulls away. Don’t be like that, Xie. Everyone wants you here. Xie stops short, incredulous. Everyone? Really? Leni’s helpless gray eyes wide, vein pulsing in her skinny neck. How weak she looks, is, always at Jo’s side, like a dog. She takes a step back, quick, as if seeing the thought in his face. He looks away, flushing. I’ll wait. Okay, she says, turning to go back to the house, holding her elbows. Xie ducking through the branches to the car, yanking open the back door. Lies in the back. Fucking new car. P. nowhere. Fuck you, too. Closing his eyes only to hear, a moment later, the door wrenched open, Jo jamming herself into the front seat. Leaning to look out the window, heavy sigh, heave back out to kick a skateboard away from the car, shouting, Would you clear your shit out of the way, Amber! Then back in and the door slammed twice, spinning out onto the narrow road. You need to grow a pair, Xie, you can’t let people talk to you like that. Xie sitting up, slow. What does it matter to you what anyone says. Jo’s snort. Excuse me? What do you want me to do, let you get your ass kicked? Xie rolling his eyes, Leni was the first one out, you were too busy holding court— Holding court? You mean doing our job? You’re right, that’s exactly what I was too busy doing, while you were sitting off in some fucking corner— Leni saying, quiet, Come on, Jo, he’s shy. I know he’s fucking shy, Leni, Jesus, everyone’s shy, it’s no excuse for acting like a sociopath. Xie
flinging his arm in the air, Why do you even invite me then, you’re always off with those—people we don’t even know. Jo’s hard laugh, You mean you don’t know them, because you don’t want to know them. Those people aren’t the bad guys, Xie, there’s a whole community right here, people who want the same things you want, people who are willing to do the work that you always say you want to do, so what the hell is your problem? Xie glances at her in the mirror. Silence. Jo’s eyes meeting his. What. Xie shrugging. Nothing. What’s that look mean? What look. Xie shifting in his seat, the smell of the microfiber seats and the plastic dashboard noxious, he needs air, fumbling with the buttons on the handle of the door, but they’re locked; Jo has to press something up front before the window will go down. You know my dad spent hours converting the engine for you on the Jetta and it was running fine, he says, staring hard out the window. Oh, so that’s what this is about. Okay. What do you want to say, Mr. Perfect? I’m not perfect, I just—electricity still— And Jo nodding, angrily, Mm-hm, yes, electricity what? Xie gesturing with both hands, At least with the oil we were reusing something that was going to be thrown away, it wasn’t even an old car and you just went out and bought another one like, why, you don’t— Xie, that thing was smoking every morning and it’s fucking useless in the winter, every time I got in the car I was worried the fucking thing was going to explode. I’m grateful for your dad’s help but it’s my fucking car which you are happy enough to ride around in everywhere, so— And Xie raising his voice, But I’m not happy, I hate driving, I wouldn’t even— You what, you wouldn’t stoop to being in a vehicle if it wasn’t for us forcing you into one? No, just—forget it. Jo scoffs. No, go on, I’m loving this, really. Xie shakes his head, I said forget it, okay, and Jo wrenches the car to the shoulder, all of their heads slamming forward as she hits the brakes. A sudden silence. Get out, Jo says. He blinks. Leni’s head dipped, eyeing them both warily, like someone used to arguments turning bad, and he wonders, do they hit her at home or does she see someone getting hit? Jo opening his door and taking him by the arm, yanking him onto the road. Come on. Xie stepping back, Jesus, Jo, I’m not going to fight you. I don’t mean that, you idiot, I mean just say it! Xie’s hands up. It’s your car, fine, you can do what you want, and Jo shaking her head. You want everything and everyone to be so pure and anyone who does something you don’t like you just fucking judge. I can’t even handle watching you stare at anyone who tries to talk to you as if they have a fucking disease because they’re smoking a Marlboro or—or—fucking have gel in their hair or whatever it is you find so offensive about the entire human race. Leni staring through the glass. Shivering. Sitting around in your room making lentil soup and riding your bike downtown doesn’t make you a fucking saint, okay? Xie frowns. I didn’t say it did. Jo throwing up her hands. But that’s how you act! Like you know so much more than every fucking—oh my god, there are so many people here—who do so much more than you could ever dream of doing, who risk their lives, who get thrown in fucking jail— Stopping at Xie’s sharp look. Is that it? You’re still pissed that you got caught and we didn’t? Xie’s flinch, What? No— Jo continuing, You think we should have stayed with you? Do you know what would have happened if Leni got caught out there? Xie confused, glancing through the window at Leni, who looks at her lap, hair hanging in her face. Her dad’s friends with Moore, okay, he would kill her if he knew what she was doing. She doesn’t have a family like yours, they’re not going to just smile and nod and pay for her fucking rice milk, they don’t even know she’s vegan, that she’s queer, they don’t want to know anything about her, and you want to walk around like everything is so hard for you, you suffer so much, everyone else is some clueless asshole, when you don’t even know what life is like for your so-called best friends, okay? I’m sorry, Xie stutters, I didn’t know— Because you never ask! she shouts. He looks at the pavement, shatter of glass from an accident on the white line. I’m sorry, he says. I’m just. I’m sorry. Not knowing how to explain it, how far away he feels, a feeling he doesn’t know how to fix. Jo rubs her wrist against her brow. Drops her arms at her sides. We love you, okay. Just. Don’t be such an ass. He looks at her. Yeah, he says. Okay. She takes his arm. Come on, you idiot. He climbs back in. Xie’s body weirdly sore, like he has been hit. All over. Leni turning the radio on, which for some reason is tuned to a country station but no one says anything, they just listen to Willie Nelson and Tim McGraw for ten minutes. Windows cracked. Parking at Leni’s favorite vegan diner. My treat, Jo says. He goes to the bathroom to wash his hands and the light is so dim he thinks he sees blood. Doesn’t. Does. Holding his fingers to his face. Panic beating a distant drum. Thinking: You’re fine. P. there to touch his palms, helmet bent to kiss them, there is all night ahead of them, still. So much to do. The girls are in the car with cashew milkshakes and fries and he eats, mechanically, while they play a game Leni invented called Who’s Fucking Who. A woman goes in with her Chihuahua under her arm. Definitely fucking, Jo says, and they laugh, Xie loudest of all. What does any of it mean. Try to see yourself from the outside. Are you. Just a person or a fucking clown?

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  The next two nights are dry; he drags himself through the woods in a trance, P. at his side: he thinks nothing, feels nothing. Hammer, nail, birch, bone. The pain comes later. Wrapping his hand at the kitchen sink in the morning, bubble of peroxide, Erik angling to look. What happened? I cut it, Xie says, pulling away. It’s fine. Erik watching him, knowing something. Not enough. In the evenings pulling out the deck of cards but Xie can’t hold them without shaking, he pretends he is tired, goes to wait in the attic for his father to fall asleep. The math is unrelenting: a night, an hour, even a dozen trees off means some of them might go unspiked and you don’t know. Where they will cut first. He rests in the woods. Cheek on the dirt. Shallow cradle in the earth, dug with his hands, just long enough to curl up in. Warmer down here. Hood pulled tight around his head. Such smells, toward morning, when the air gets thicker with dew, dense perfume: mineral, loam, feather, all varieties of shit, dead meat, skunk, flower, mushroom, mold. Missing the body. Does it miss him? You have to be willing. P. blows the leaves from his shoulder, settles over him, cutting out the sky. Heavy. Face against his. He can see, inside the dark hollows of his eyes, where the tiny fingernail-sized lacrymal bones should be, slim vertical ridges along which tears make their way to the surface of a face. The body has these bones, he has touched them many times, but the bones inside P.’s face are completely smooth. P.’s fingers sliding over the bridge of Xie’s nose, beneath his eye. Beloved. Don’t cry.