The Gray House

“He likes honey and walnuts. Likes seltzer, stray dogs, striped awnings, round stones, worn-out clothes, no sugar in his coffee, telescopes, and a pillow on his face when he’s asleep. He doesn’t like when people look him in the eye or stare at his hands. Doesn’t like strong wind and flying cottonwood fluff, can’t stand white clothing, lemons, and the scent of chamomile. All of that would be obvious to anyone with a working pair of eyes.”

I decided not to mention that I hadn’t been living in the Fourth long enough to distinguish the fine details in the most inscrutable person in the House.

“You know what, Sphinx, don’t say anything to Lary. I changed my mind.”

He lowered himself to the mirror again.

“Why?”

“It was all your idea. And I don’t want him to think I’m a snitch.”

“Really?”

Sphinx appeared suspicious of my reflection, which did in fact look unpleasant. Furtively snitchy. Confused and distrustful. And at the same time I was feeling nothing of the sort.

“Really,” I said nervously. “I don’t want to be a snitch, whether real or imaginary. And you promised to leave my reflection alone.”

Sphinx looked back at me over his shoulder. Like he was comparing.

“I did. I am just fascinated by the contrast. Sorry. Won’t happen again. So, I am not to talk to Lary? All the assurances go out the window then.”

“To hell with them.”

I sighed with relief. I was almost sure I was doing the right thing. And did it in the last possible moment, almost when it was already too late. It all had to do with mirror Smoker. He was a nasty character. A veteran snitch, an expert even. And my talks with Sphinx in bathrooms were becoming a nice tradition. Just him and me, surrounded by sinks and commodes. We’d have a talk, and then suddenly everything would be different. Upside down, or maybe the other way around. Somehow I sensed that there was going to be no such upheaval this time. That I managed to avoid it.

Sphinx was examining his pants, having finally noticed their sorry state.

“Lary has been asking for it anyway. Look at this mess.”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“Who else could it be? Thumbtacks in the sheets, gum in the shoe, toothpaste on the sink, that’s right about his range. Tabaqui operates on a different level altogether. Jackal’s pranks lay waste to half the House. He’s not into the small stuff. So it must be Lary. See, he’s just a child really.”

I laughed and said, “A child that shaves.”

“What’s so unusual about that? A very common occurrence.”

He scratched the leg again, wincing.

“What’s with the scratching?” I blurted.

“Fleas. Definitely. Did they get to you yet? No? Strange.”

“Fleas?” I was a bit lost. “You mean Nanette’s got fleas?”

“I wish. We could hope to get rid of them then. No, it’s Blind hauling them in. We can’t exactly spray our Leader with pesticides, now can we? And fleas aren’t even the worst of it. Sometimes he comes in covered in ticks. In the dead of winter. And not a couple, mind you, several different species at once. Have you ever extracted a tick? The trick is never to pull too abruptly, otherwise the head breaks off and stays inside.”

“You must be kidding.”

“Of course I am,” Sphinx said gravely. “I’m the resident joker, didn’t you notice?”

“Why can’t you just tell someone to shut up if his questions are getting on your nerves? Why this rigmarole?”

Sphinx did not answer. He sighed, scratched his leg, and walked out. In a wet shirt and with toothpaste blobs on his butt. The toothpaste was not really visible and the dripping shirt only added coolness. So it wasn’t about the clothes at all, it was about Sphinx. About his self-esteem.

I stared at my reflection.

The mirror Smoker was looking better, but still noticeably spiteful. I struck a pose. He assumed an even more idiotic stance. I guess my self-esteem still sucked.

“So what,” I said. “Even Noble doesn’t like himself in the mirror.”

I finished the coffee that really was cold by now and wheeled back to the dorm.

THE HOUSE

INTERLUDE