Come, Thou Tortoise by Jessica Grant

Author:Jessica Grant [Grant, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-37392-2
Publisher: Knopf Canada
Published: 2009-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

I’m not sure how many times Uncle Thoby failed to show up. It feels like five. But maybe it was only three. Out to the airport. Knock knock on the who’s-there wall. No answer. No Uncle Thoby. Back home in excruciatingly low gear. No shepherd’s pie for dinner.

In my mind Uncle Thoby becomes a cross between a shepherd who loves pie and a black sheep. A black sheep, I decide, is a euphemism for the son who is loved less.

My dad spends hours on the phone after I’ve gone to bed. I can hear the annoying phone voice through the vent. In the morning he tells me that Uncle Thoby has the flu. That’s why he didn’t fly. He was about to get on the plane at Heathrow, but then he was sick in the bathroom.

Heathrow-up airport.

My dad laughs and sips his coffee. Apparently I am funny again. For days I have not been funny.

He can’t fly because of flew, I say and kick Uncle Thoby’s chair under the table. I think about how I would like to cut down the legs with a saw and make that chair really low. So that when and if Uncle Thoby ever shows up, only his head will be visible over the table. I recall the fangs on his bedposts and smile a fangy smile of my own.

What are you smiling at.

Does the arm get a fever when he does.

My dad wants me out of his hair. Thus I am sticking around. I go with him to the Before Building. Verlaine offers to take me out to the stable but I say no. I will not leave my dad. The most I will do is put on my hard hat and ride my bike around the wraparound porch. Around and around I go, practising my posting trot even though there is no beat. I ride down the steps and pretend they are jumps.

Every so often we go out to the airport and return without an uncle. It is humiliating. We are humiliated. Humiliation is being left like an uncollected bag on the carousel.

Remember when Big Bird tried to introduce Mr. Snuffleupagus to the rest of Sesame Street. Remember how he never showed up.

My dad and I are playing Clue. Clue is not really a game for two people, but I don’t know that yet.

Remember when Big Bird—

I suspect Colonel Mustard with the Revolver—where is the Revolver—in the Billiard Room.

I check my cards. Nope. Remember in the old Sesame Street how Mr. Snuffleupagus never showed up.

My dad marks something on his scoresheet. Uncle Thoby is not Mr. Snuffleupagus.

Yes, but he is. Why doesn’t he call before we go out to the bloody airport for the millionth time. Is he trying to humiliate us.

The Revolver is missing, my dad says, lifting the board. Where is the Revolver.

After my dad has gone to bed I sneak back downstairs. Wedge’s wheel stops. What are you doing.

Neveryoumind.

The wheel starts up again, but more slowly.

It is easy to solve a crime.

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