Caleb laid on the couch tired with dry sweat, fighting sleep, thinking of his day. The doorbell rang and the father of the house, Joseph, opened it. A short man took two straight legged steps in and Joseph stepped back, his eyes wide. “This is your place Joe?” the man said in his scruffy voice, “Huh. Thought it’d be different. I guess they don’t make homes like they used to, shame.” The mother of the house, Catharine, now in the foyer, was startled. “Hello,” she said to their guest, then quieter to Joe, “Who is that?” She held carrots and a peeler with her left hand fisted, her right hand scratching her forearm.
“It’s my Great Great Great Grandfather.” From a distance, Caleb saw his parents on one side and this thing on the other. The Guest had no knees, only foot long, single-boned legs, two slings holding both of his arms, bright red gym shorts, a young man’s scruffy, patchy, beard and a paint smeared, light blue T-shirt. He was about four feet tall and had all types of tiny bruises and scabs on his legs you could only see from up close. He walked straight past Joseph and Catharine into their kitchen. “Should we ask him to take his shoes off?” Catharine asked Joe. Their direction turned to Caleb, who was still staring into the foyer. Caleb looked into the kitchen to where the guest was. Joseph and Catherine’s attention followed.
“Vegetables?” the Guest said as he sniffed each food item laid on the counter, leaving a loose nose hair or two behind. This time proclaiming “Vegetables. Yes, Vegetables. Beautiful vegetables full of life.” His eyes laid on a deep pot that steam rose from. He got up on his tippy toes, attempting to see what laid in it. All the Guest could see was a reflection of his face, curved across the outside of the simmering pot. He looked frustrated, maybe sad, then tightened up and yelled out “What’re you doing? Useless! Help me up!” Joseph ran over and squeezed him from behind, squatting the extra weight up above the pot.
The Guest had a big, droopy nose, neither underbite nor overbite and light brown hair that could be and was combed back due to how thin the follicles were and how oily his scalp was. “Is this a good height?” Joseph asked. Catharine was cooking something earthy colored, but what the Guest seemed to take pleasure with was the steam that clouded his eyes and opened up the deep pores on his nose. He took a few deep breaths and during his last exhale said “Joseph.”
“Yes?”
”Let’s eat.”
”Catherine, honey. Is dinner ready?”
”Not yet, but it will be soon!” Catharine said.
”Joseph.”
”We’ll have dinner ready soon.”
”I know. I can hear. It will be a fantastic dinner. I wouldn’t expect anything less than that. It’d be a disgrace if it were anything less.”
”Okay.”
”Joseph, I’m going to give you instructions over dinner. Don’t write them down; Also, don’t forget them.”
”What for?”
”Could you just wait until dinner?!”
Caleb, still sitting on the couch, saw his Dad put the Guest down to his feet. He saw the Guest turn to him smirking, then walk towards him as if without the slings, his arms would be outstretched.
“You must be Caleb. My boy,” the Guest shouted. “Nice to meet you Great Great Great Great Grandfather,” Caleb said and the guest tripped over himself, falling face first.
“OUCH,” he yelled before a whimpering low cry of pain followed. Caleb stared at him, now sitting up, Joseph stared at the guest from behind and Catharine’s teeth chattered her fingernails. The Guest whimpered again and Joseph, now near him, put his hand on the Guest’s shoulder to ask “Can I help you up?” but as soon as his hand touched the Guest’s shoulder the whimper turned into anger and shouting “Get off of me! I don’t need your help! Damned vegetables!”
Caleb now stood and Joseph kept his hand on the Guest’s shoulder which fidgeted, the Guest’s legs kicked and nose ran. After a few cycles of kicking and screaming and getting nowhere he tired himself out, became quiet. Joseph stuck his hands into the Guest’s armpits and picked him up again, put him to his feet again.
Catharine returned to the stove and the Guest turned to Joseph and nodded, then waddled back towards Caleb who was two feet taller than him.
“Sorry, Caleb. What was I saying before I fell?”
”We greeted.”
”That’s all we did?”
”I think so.”
”You think so?”
”Yes, I greeted you.”
”Okay, right. Caleb, son, what do you do?”
”I’m working an apprenticeship right now to be a plumber.”
”You like to plumb things?”
”I like hands on work, yes.”
”Okay, but. You like to plumb things?”
”Yes.”
”Good. Alright, a plumber who likes to plumb things! Joseph, how do you feel about that?”
”I feel great. I think Caleb is doing a great job.”
”Right. Plumb’s up!”
The Guest stood with his thumb up, jerking it off, then looked up at Caleb and Joseph’s faces before walking back into the kitchen. “Catharine, would you like any help?” he asked while staring unapologetically at her ass and feet. “I can handle things alright,” she said. “You sure I can’t help in any way?” and she looked at him, who looked up from her ass and feet to the veils of her soul, her deep brown eyes. She was wearing light foundation and red lipstick. She had curly brown hair that stopped near the top of her neck where a pulse beat through for everyone in the room to see. Caleb, Joseph and the Guest all noticed the thum thum that brought red blush to her otherwise pale face. The steam rose from the deep pot on the stove she turned from and her leg curled, her left toe pointed down bearing no weight. “I-I’m fine. Why is everyone looking at me? D-dinner is ready.”
Joseph walked over to Catherine and put his hand on her cheek, leaned in and kissed her, then said “Thank you for dinner honey, let me help you serve it. Caleb, could you make the table for us?” Caleb got up to set the table for four and the Guest stared with admiration at Catherine wanting to give her a salute, but his arms were rubber. “No, I got this Joe. Just save me a seat.” Joe sat at the set table and stared at it while Caleb sat to his right and the Guest sat to Caleb’s right.
It was October 4th of 1981 in the small suburban town of Tewksbury when Catherine walked over to the table twice, each time placing two dishes of Rabbit Cassoulet in front of the three filled chairs and one empty chair that she ended up filling. They blessed themselves, thanked God for their food and ate, at first, quietly; But, what broke the silence and still kept a harmony of sorts was a tableful of throat moaning that came with a meal well made.
Joseph ate around the rabbit meat first, holding his spoon flat to the cassoulet and dipping it, having gravity fill it. Catherine used a fork and scooped with it, watching the liquid fall through and beans fall off. She ate one third the scoops she took, but she smiled at all of them. Her appetite was full from the moans of the people around her. The Guest sat with his arms in sling and the bowl a little too far away. When someone not named Catharine at the table asked if he needed help eating, he thought for a second and asked for his bowl to be pushed closer him. He dropped his face into it, wolfed up his share. Caleb dipped twice into his bowl before biting off of the fork. He’d spear the rabbit meat, hold it up for inspection, then dip again to cover it in the objects of cassoulet that’d stick.
After the Guest’s third face dip, he looked up and said “Catharine. This is great,” which made her smile more than notice the mess that was him. “This is great,” both Joseph and Caleb agreed, “thank you.” When Catharine was not even halfway finished and the rest neared finishing fully, a wind swept through the large window nearby, passed the table and through another window in another room. Wind never traveled to where it would be trapped, it couldn’t exist there.
When the Guest was staring at his feet that couldn’t touch the ground while he sat, Joseph broke the silence. “It’s great having you here, and—”
“Joseph,” the Guest said very lightly, very calmly, cutting him off after smirking with cassoulet smeared around his mouth.
”Yes?” Joseph replied as Catharine gestured with a napkin towards the Guest.
The Guest nodded and Catharine started cleaning his face for him while he continued, “Let’s not ruin it. Would you like to hear your instructions now?”
”Of course. Like you mentioned earlier.”
”Yes. Joseph. First, I want to say thank you, for having me tonight. Not everyone would do that.”
”You’re family.”
”Okay, Joseph. Caleb, time is tricky. When you look around, near the end of your life, who do you want to see? Catharine, who would you want to see?”
”Well, I—”
”I’m not interested in your answer. I’m only interested in telling you things, you all. Well, Joseph, as for instructions.”
”Yes?”
”I’d like you to bury me under your lawn. In the back, not far from the house.”
”What?”
In the cassoulet, near the bottom of the bowl laid a rabbit’s tibia amid Canneli beans, red onions, chopped carrots, the broth and a sprig of thyme. The timing was comic, when Catharine took the napkin off the Guest’s face and the Guest’s face lowered back down into the bowl making it dirty again, but it was impossible to even snicker at. Caleb stopped eating, the Guest started coughing. “What’s going on?” Joseph said across the table as Catharine put her hand on the Guest’s back, hitting it—thud. “What’s going on?”
thud, thud, thud, thud
Catharine shrieked, it wasn’t working. Caleb sat still. Joseph’s chair slid back seven feet when he rose. The Guest’s face had come out of the bowl and whenever his body tried coughing out, he swallowed in as much. A small river of tears streamed from his eyes down his face making it seem the Guest was worried; But, when Joseph got behind him again, this time to Heimlich, it further proved the Guest was incapable of receiving help. For no matter how hard Joseph tried to move the Guest’s slung arms out of the way, he couldn’t. They fought for minutes until the Guest’s face turned purple, when his mouth that refused to open, did open. Everyone at the table saw the tibia, lodged in his throat—the throat that Joseph stuck his hand into, the throat the bone was ripped from, the throat that bled afterwards—after he was suffocated, after the tibia was ripped out. No wind would pass through this throat again.
“I won’t bury you in my backyard,” Joseph said weeping, holding the Guest’s head with his palm. They all cried together for some time as the tears on the Guest’s face dried with the cassoulet. A wind swept through a window far away, passed the table and exited through the large window nearby. Eventually, Joseph called 911.
They received the phone call as Catharine cleaned up the cassoulet left on the table and seat where the Guest’s scent lingered. Joseph had no reason to tell Catharine the confirmation the hospital let him know about, so he didn’t. The family was going through a tragedy, their first.
As Catharine laid next to Joseph in bed that night, she poorly played with his hair. She wanted to ask about his Great Great Great Grandfather, but was afraid to bring it up so soon. Rolling over, onto Joseph in a position that aroused him, she squeezed him with a hug and he returned the favor. She kissed his lips and neck and he returned the favor. She continued these acts of kindness and he continued returning favors. Afterwards, they laid naked under their light, but thick, white comforter. It was dark out and fall was upon them. They could hear the wind brush off the rooftop above them and imagined the fall colors that awaited them in a few weeks. That was when Joseph spoke.
“Do you mind if I buy a rake tomorrow?”
”No.”
”Leaves are starting to fall and I would like to get ahead of it.”
”What’s the problem with the one we have?”
”It’s meant for garden work, I’d like a leaf rake.”
”Oh, I knew that. I don’t know why I asked.”
”It’s okay. Did you get to the dishes?”
”I was going to do them tomorrow morning.”
”I’ll do them, don’t worry about it.”
”I don’t mind doing them, Joe.”
”Don’t worry about it.”
As their bodies turned away from each other, signifying goodnight, Caleb was up in his room considering a shower. He laid on his bed licking the salty skin beneath his nose. He traced back the sequence of events aloud, often stopping where the Guest gave Joseph instructions. Growing more upset repeating the account, he thought of his apprenticeship and how he liked to plumb. The day ended.
LB