Room: A Novel

They’re her book club but I don’t know why because they’re not reading books. She forgot to cancel them so they all came at 03:30 with plates of cakes and stuff. I have three cakes on a little plate but I have to stay out of the way. Also Grandma gave me five keys on a key ring that says POZZO’S HOUSE OF PIZZA, I wonder how a house is made of pizza, wouldn’t it flop? They’re not actually keys to anywhere but they jingle, I got them for promising not to take the key out of the liquor cabinet anymore. The first cake is called coconut, it’s yucky. The second is lemon and the third is I don’t know but I like it the best.

“You must be worn to the bone,” says one of the ladies with the highest voice.

“Heroic,” says another.

Also I have the camera on borrow, not Steppa’s fancy-schmancy one with the giant circle but the one hidden in the eye of Grandma’s cell phone, if it rings I have to shout to her and not answer it. So far I have ten pictures, one of my softy shoes, two of the light in the ceiling in the fitness suite, three of the dark in the basement (only the picture came out too bright), four of my hand inside with its lines, five of a hole beside the refrigerator I was hoping it might be a mouse hole, six of my knee in pants, seven of the carpet in the living room up close, eight was meant to be Dora when she was in TV this morning but it’s all zigzaggy, nine is Steppa not smiling, ten is out the bedroom window with a gull going by only the gull’s not in the photo. I was going to take one of me in the mirror but then I’d be a paparazzi.

“Well, he looks like a little angel from the photos,” one of the ladies is saying.

How did she see my ten photos? And I don’t look a bit like an angel, they’re massive with wings.

“You mean that bit of grainy footage outside the police station?” says Grandma.

“Oh, no, the close-ups, from when they were doing the interview with. .”

“My daughter, yes. But close-ups of Jack?” She sounds furious.

“Oh, honey, they’re all over the Internet,” says another voice.

Then lots are talking all at once. “Didn’t you know?”

“Everything gets leaked, these days.”

“The world’s one big oyster.”

“Terrible.”

“Such horrors, in the news every day, sometimes I just feel like staying in bed with the drapes closed.” “I still can’t believe it,” says the deep voice. “I remember saying to Bill, seven years back, how could something like this happen to a girl we know?” “We all thought she was dead. Of course we never liked to say —”

“And you had such faith.”

“Who could have imagined—?”

“Any more tea for anyone?” That’s Grandma.

“Well, I don’t know. I spent a week in a monastery in Scotland once,” says another voice, “it was so peaceful.” My cakes are gone except the coconut. I leave the plate on the step and go up to the bedroom and look at my treasures. I put Tooth back in my mouth for a suck. He doesn’t taste like Ma.

• • •

Grandma’s finded a big box of LEGOs in the basement that belongs to Paul and Ma. “What would you like to make?” she asks me. “A house? A skyscraper? Maybe a town?”

“Might want to lower your sights a little,” says Steppa behind his newspaper.

There’s so many tiny pieces all colors, it’s like a soup. “Well,” says Grandma, “go wild. I’ve got ironing to do.” I look at the LEGOs but I don’t touch in case I break them.

After a minute Steppa puts his paper down. “I haven’t done this in too long.” He starts grabbing pieces just anyhow and squishing them together so they stick.

“Why you haven’t—?”

“Good question, Jack.”

“Did you play LEGO with your kids?”

“I don’t have any kids.”

“How come?”

Steppa shrugs. “Just never happened.”

I watch his hands, they’re lumpy but clever. “Is there a word for adults when they aren’t parents?”

Steppa laughs. “Folks with other things to do?”

“Like what things?”

“Jobs, I guess. Friends. Trips. Hobbies.”

“What’s hobbies?”

“Ways of spending the weekend. Like, I used to collect coins, old ones from all over the world, I stored them in velvet cases.” “Why?”

“Well, they were easier than kids, no stinky diapers.”

That makes me laugh.

He holds out the LEGO bits, they’ve magically turned into a car. It’s got one two three four wheels that turn and a roof and a driver and all.

“How you did that?”

“One piece at a time. You pick one now,” he says.

“Which?”

“Anything at all.”

I choose a big red square.

Steppa gives me a small bit with a wheel. “Stick that on.”

I put it so the bump is under the other bump’s hole and I press hard.

He hands me another wheel bit, I push that on.

“Nice bike. Vroom!”

He says it so loud I drop the LEGO on the floor and a wheel comes off. “Sorry.”

“No need for sorry. Let me show you something.” He puts his car on the floor and steps on it, crunch. It’s in all pieces. “See?” says Steppa. “No problemo. Let’s start again.”

• • •

Grandma says I smell.

“I wash with the cloth.”

“Yeah, but dirt hides in the cracks. So I’m going to run a bath, and you’re going to get in it.”