On Maryland Off Broadway

On Maryland Off Broadway

     by What's His Name

        Hitler had only

        Rommel had two but

        Himmler had

        But poor old Gooballs

I've just come from giving a lecture. I am fifty-five and divorced with two high school-aged kids I seldom am allowed to visit. Dandy sees me and opens the door. 

        "Really good play you wrote. It's great!" I say this coming up the steps. They creak. They are strong, nevertheless. The yards in this part of the city are thirty feet wide. Cops live on each side of Dandy and Filbert's. The eaves touch. The yard on the right sports a chopper without a motor. 

        "Really?" she says, emphasis on the first syllable. "Wow, I'm so glad," is what she means. Filbert shakes my hand, then she. Her's lingers, saying, "Remember when you thought these the softest hands?" 

       "Take the Martin in the warmth?" Filbert says. It is twenty-five below, not good for the preservation of an instrument. Filbert operates a skyhook. Off season now, he lazes. His father fixes cars in the country on his yard in a grey plywood Quonset, the chokecherry trees beside it tall and spindly. The fruit puckers the mouth. He hit a policeman and spent a full year in jail for it. He drinks now only under his wife's care. 

        Filbert likes his beer. He also likes Glenna. They sleep together now and then because Calvin doesn't anymore. Calvin drinks Guinness when he drinks Guinness because of his Irish roots. Filbert drinks anything but Guinness. Filbert can play a passable Vaughan lick with a few hours practice. Calvin says things at the dinner table, with adult guests and his mother present, like, "Mandy still makes me think of a giant ostrich," flapping his arms like short wings and springing his legs. He will say this twice with accompanying motions and emphasis on "still," once at the beginning and once in the middle of the meal. 

        Inside, three women sit on a couch without legs, low to the floor. One of them has swollen glands from wisdom teeth coming in. On each side of her a woman sits with her legs tucked under her and a mug in her hands. Steam ascends from one of them. I put the Martin down in the hallway and then move it a few feet, away from the warm air register. Around the boots the smell of damp, cut plywood. The fur of the cat standing on the guitar case radiates heat. Old oil in a hot cast iron pan. She squeaks when I push her and bats at my mitten. The look in her eyes grows mischievous. It is too hot in this house. The thermostat on the boiler can't be working. 

        Mandy wobbles towards me with arms outstretched. 

        "You must be thirsty," I say after I have lifted her and hugged her and spoken her name three or four times. She reaches out an arm and hand, fingers spread. I go to the kitchen and look for a cup with a spout. I pour water into a pint jar from the clean dishes rack and help her drink. She chokes, and when she recovers says, "Oh, oh!" I hug her and walk into the living room. I am forever hugging Mandy. I notice that the top of her head feels slightly feverish. After awhile I take off her sweater and stockings so she can run around in her Huggins and t-shirt. 

         "Mandy loves grandpa," say the women sitting on each side of Glenna. The three look at me holding her. When they have finished some silent and spoken congratulations, and confirm that Mandy will be well looked after, they resume their conversation. Filbert gives up the armchair in the corner for me. He leans forward out of habit more than to pay attention. His crossed legs dangle and his elbows rest on his knees. 

        I sit facing out from the corner of the room. Mandy climbs onto and off my lap with intense regularity and teeters always here and there among the jackets, books and household items on the floor. I go to the kitchen for a carrot. It has much garden dirt on it. I rinse it, rubbing with my palms till it looks clean. When I sit down again, Mandy comes, arms stretched, eyes on my carrot. I hold it to her lips but she pulls it, whining, till I let go. She sits on my lap while she eats. 

        I say, "Just a little bit. Don't take big bites. You might choke." She bites small bites and I am convinced that she loves me. She lifts it up to my mouth, watching my lips with cute eyes.  I nibble and feel the odd sensation of a lot of spit. Next time she gives it to me I wipe it first. 

        "Mm mm, good!" I say.

        "Mm mm," she says. 

        As I am leaving, after Mandy has also shared my toast and jam and a sip of the tea Glenna makes for me, getting up despite her unhappy teeth and throat, Dandy appears out of nowhere. Standing beside me above the stairs, with one arm around my shoulders, she says,

        "See you tomorrow night. We're working on strong endings, right?"

        "Yeah, strong endings," I say, squeezing her waist. "See you tomorrow."