House Gone Quiet by Kelsey Norris

Author:Kelsey Norris [Norris, Kelsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2023-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Jack says he thinks he’s losing his mind.

Oh, it’s long gone, says Bubba.

Too late, says the caller.

No, really, Jack says. Every day, it’s something else. You ever have that thing happen to you where you walk into a room and forget why you’re there?

You know what I do? says the caller. It’s a little tip my shrink gave me. Yeah—that’s right. I’ve been to therapy, before y’all say something smart. I’m what you might call an evolved man.

Get on with it then, says Bubba.

I just keep whispering what the thing is I’m in there for, says the caller. Creates intention, my therapist says, which I am then able to man-i-fest.

Bubba presses the button on their soundboard that says, Oh, brother!

Give it a try, Jack, says the caller. My advice to you—no charge. Walk into a room saying scissors, scissors, and it’s hard to forget what you’re there for.

But the next problem is, says Bubba, everyone else in the room thinks you’re a lunatic.

That’s the risk you take, says the caller. But at least you can cut ’em up if you flip the switch.

The caller laughs. Bubba laughs.

But listen, says Jack. It’s bigger than that. My sister just got married, right? Nice guy, good to her. Name of Henry—easy enough. Well, goshdarnit if I don’t call him Steve every time I see him. She’s never even dated a Steve. But I take one look at him and that’s all there is. Every time.

Hardly sounds like a medical condition, says Bubba.

The man might just look like a Steve, says the caller. Maybe you’ve got it right, and his own momma got it wrong.

Or, I had to set up security questions for my banking password the other day, says Jack—talking fast. And I can’t remember any of the right stuff. Not the name of the street I grew up on or my first-grade teacher, or even the name of my first best buddy before we moved away.

Everybody has trouble with those, says Bubba. Just write it down.

I’m saying, I only know the wrong stuff. That buddy—his family had this huge chocolate Labrador. Kept her in a pen in the yard. Cookie. Never got a walk, hardly ever got let out. Used to jump up on the fence and go berserk anytime we got near her. Just too excited, too big—too lonely, I guess—for us to play with her. I always wanted to sneak in and set Cookie free. I was scared of her, though, deep down. And she stank.

Poor Cookie, says the caller.

I can remember all that, is what I’m saying. I can picture Cookie, right now. But the kid’s name? What he looked like? Gone. What do you call that?

Might have a weak spot for human names, says Bubba.

It’s more than that, says Jack. All I’ve got is useless stuff. Little moments, feelings. Like, I was pukin’ up carrots at the airport once as a kid, and my mom needed us to get to the gate. She puts the handles of a shopping bag over my ears so I could barf and walk at the same time.

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