They have been watching cartoons for at least an hour every night after dinner. Emery is a television producer; before he flew home for the heart attack, he was developing a new cartoon series. He is searching for animators, so he watches the most popular shows to see what works. Everyone watches with him. They are so compelled that they don’t talk unless the commercials are running. Emery has seen all the shows many times; he has a television in his office that has been tuned to cartoons for the past six months. When a cartoon starts, he sings along with the opening song. Often, when Emery is watching cartoons, he imagines himself sitting with his and Alejandro’s kid. He doesn’t care if they have a boy or a girl; he just wants a kid with a sense of humor. A kid who can appreciate a good cartoon. And a kid who will love roller coasters. He and Alejandro both still love roller coasters; it was one of the first things they talked about when they met.
It is the evening of Day Five. Emery has promised Alejandro that he will ask his sisters for the eggs tonight. He imagines tossing confetti in the air as he throws out the question.
“Alejandro!” Emery calls toward the kitchen. “Will you come in here?”
By the time Alejandro joins them in the TV room, the show is back on. Emery will ask his sisters during a commercial.
They are watching Pickle Man-Boy. The animation alone makes them laugh: one guy has a nose hanging down like a penis in the middle of his face. Alejandro, who is sitting between Anna and Portia, allows Lefty, the cat, to crawl across his shoulders, but the cat continually runs his tail across Alejandro’s eyes, and he is trying to watch the show. Emery picks up the cat and settles with him on the floor beside the big cushioned chair where Buzzy sits. The dogs have joined the group, too. They lie on the floor between the chintz couch and the oak blanket box that serves as a coffee table. Like a litter of puppies, everyone is huddled, it seems, into the smallest possible area.
“I don’t get this,” Buzzy says during a commercial. “Is he a pickle?”
“It’s Pickle Man-Boy,” Emery says. “He’s a cucumber who lives in a saltwater pond.” Emery’s stomach bumps around as he prepares to ask the question. In order to give eggs, one of his sisters will have to take shots that will at first put her in menopause, followed by other shots that will cause hyperovulation. It’s uncomfortable, there are some health risks, and it fucks up the balance of your hormones for a couple of months. Emery imagines it’s like sitting on a teeter-totter, a flying/falling sensation that lasts for weeks.
“So is he pickled yet?” Buzzy asks.
“He’s Pickle MAN-BOY,” Anna says. She has always had little tolerance for questions. As a kid, Emery would save up his questions until Portia got home from school.
“But is it a pickle?” Buzzy says.
“Dad,” Anna says, “didn’t you listen to the opening song? He’s a cucumber who lives in a cantaloupe in a saltwater pond.”
“Who wants purple plums?” Buzzy asks, and he gets up and goes into the kitchen.
“Do you ever wonder how Mom can take it day in and day out?” Anna whispers. She’s facing the TV. Emery isn’t sure whom she’s speaking to.
“Take what?” Portia asks.
“Dad!” Anna says, louder but still whispering. “His curiosity is endless—like three-year-olds when they go through that why phase: But why? Because. Because why? Because I said so. But why are you saying so? I mean, I fucking wanted to put Blue up for adoption when he started doing this.” Blue is Anna’s son; Emery now thinks of him as the cousin of his yet-to-be-conceived child.
“Buzzy’s funny,” Alejandro says. Emery is glad that Alejandro isn’t intolerant of questions. He thinks it will be fun answering endless questions from some curious kid.
Buzzy returns with a bowl of purple plums soaking in syrupy juice. “Does anyone want some purple plums?” he asks.
“Dad,” Anna says. “You’ve been offering us canned purple plums since we were born, and no one has ever wanted them. You are the only one who eats purple plums.”
“I’ll have some purple plums,” Alejandro says, and he gets up and goes into the kitchen for a bowl. Emery wants to call him back and tell him to sit so he can ask the question, but he does nothing. By the time Alejandro returns the show is back on.
Emery can’t concentrate on what he’s watching. Instead, he is gathering the courage to ask his sisters to risk their lives (very small chance, the doctor said), mess up their equilibrium (guaranteed), abstain from sex (might not be too hard for Portia—who’s she going to fuck, anyway?), cut out vigorous exercise (ditto Portia), stop drinking and smoking (ditto ditto Portia encore), so that he can have a baby that is biologically related to him. By the time the next commercial is on, Emery has decided that merging this question with these two women could be like steering a cruise ship into an iceberg. Maybe it would be safer to ask in the morning, in daylight, when everyone’s still dopey with sleep.
“So he’s under the water?” Buzzy asks.
“He lives in a cantaloupe deep in a pond,” Anna says. “He’s in a pond.”
“Ooooh,” Buzzy says, “so a moment ago when he was up in that alternate universe, that wasn’t an alternate universe at all, that was land above the pond, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Emery says. “What’d you think it was?” Emery wants to laugh but doesn’t. He senses his sister’s impatience and doesn’t want to gang up on Buzzy.
“I thought he was in heaven or something, because the colors were so bright.”
“But Dad,” Anna says, “how could you have missed the opening theme song? You were sitting right here. He lives in a cantaloupe deep in a pond.” She actually seems pissed. Downright angry.
“Why does he live in a cantaloupe?” Buzzy asks. “Is it a metaphor for something?” Now Emery laughs.
“Do you think they make mute buttons for people?” Anna asks. “You could put it on the remote control and mute either the TV or the people sitting near the TV.”
“Maybe he feels safe in a cantaloupe,” Portia says. “Protection from the murky pond.” She’s laughing, too.
“This dog is so fat she looks like she’s pregnant,” Alejandro says, peering down at Gumba. Emery gives him the shut-up head nod, but Alejandro won’t look up and acknowledge it.
“She looks fine,” Emery says. Maybe he should ask now and get it over with. What’s the difference between tonight and tomorrow morning?
“Did anyone feed these pregnant-looking dogs?” Alejandro asks. He’s rubbing both dogs’ bellies with his bare feet.
“I still don’t understand the cantaloupe,” Buzzy says.
“The cantaloupe’s his house,” Emery says. Just ask for the eggs now, he thinks. No, don’t. Do. Don’t. Do. Do it. Say it. Quick.
“Most people feel safe in their house,” Portia says. “Although I was a little spooked in this house when I first got here.”
“Somebody’s gotta feed the dogs,” Buzzy says. “They never eat this late.”
“So why don’t you feed them, Dad,” Anna says. Emery thinks she’s still pissed about the Pickle Man-Boy questions. It definitely wouldn’t be good to ask Anna while she’s angry.
“I’m watching Pickled Man,” Buzzy says.
“Pickle Man-Boy!” Anna says.
“I like Pickled Man better,” Portia says.
“I’m never feeding these dogs,” Anna says. “They’re obese.”
“Yeah,” Alejandro says. “They look like they’re having babies!” He glares at Emery.
“I’ll feed them when Pickle Man-Boy is over.” Emery refuses to meet Alejandro’s eyes. “It won’t kill them to wait.” It won’t kill him to wait, either. Besides, Alejandro’s pissing him off now, so there’s no way he’s going to ask tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow will probably be a better day for things like shots, hormones, eggs.
“Your mother would die if she knew the animals weren’t fed in time,” Buzzy says.
“She’d die if she knew you were making fun of Maggie Bucks all the time,” Anna says to Portia. She’s smiling as she says this; everyone knows that Anna laughs the hardest when Portia makes fun of Maggie Bucks. Anna claims she hates all their mother’s animals.
“She’d die if she knew that you were using one of the antique quilts on the couch,” Portia says to Anna. Emery agrees. He thinks his sister is pretty nervy, taking the delicate antique quilt Louise was planning to hang somewhere instead of using one of the many comforters that are folded and heaped in the linen closet.
“She’d die if she knew that Little Carl White barfed on the stairs,” Emery says.
“What d’you mean?” Buzzy asks. “She doesn’t care about the carpet on the stairs.”
“No,” Emery says, “she wouldn’t die because of the carpet, she’d die because she’d be so upset that Little Carl White had actually barfed.” Emery feels bad for Little Carl White—he thinks LCW is a sweet, neurotically shy cat who needs to be pitied.
“She barfed?” Buzzy asks.
“I cleaned it up!” Anna says. “And I’m not cleaning up anymore! I’m sick of fucking cleaning up after this family!” Emery guesses by her smile that she’s no longer angry and is now pretending to be angry because she knows that’s what the family expects of her. So maybe he should ask now.
But the show is back on.
At the next commercial Portia asks Buzzy about Little Carl White. She claims she has only seen the cat as a streak, a shadow, something that flashes past when she goes up or down the stairs. Emery’s had more contact with her, but he agrees that catching sight of her is sort of like seeing a mouse or a cockroach when you step into your kitchen in the middle of the night. Turn on the light, and surprise!
“So is he a boy or a girl?” Portia says.
“He’s fucking Pickle Man-Boy!” Anna says. “Man-Boy! Boy! Boy!”
“No! Little Carl White. Dad called him a she. Relax. Freak,” Portia says.
“Yeah, he’s a she. He’s a girl. She’s a girl,” Buzzy says.
“Little Carl White is a girl?” Alejandro starts laughing.
“Louise named him after some man she met at a party. He was playing guitar or something and she hated him.”
“So she named the fucking cat after him?” Anna asks. Emery thinks it’s interesting that his sister, who named her son Blue, would criticize anyone for what they’ve named their animals.
“Was the man’s name Little Carl White?” Emery asks. Something about Little Carl White makes Emery crave a joint. For a second he wishes his mother still smoked pot so he could find a roach to kill.
“No, his name was Carl White. And then Louise got the cat and she was little so she named her Little Carl White.”
Emery watches Alejandro crack up. People in Alejandro’s family don’t name animals after people they dislike. They don’t have animals as pets. His mother doesn’t speak English and likes to talk to him about food. Alejandro told Emery that he will never tell his mother he’s gay because he fears the grief might kill her. He did tell his brother and two sisters, however. They have never brought it up since and never ask about Emery. Emery thinks Alejandro’s siblings look at gayness as some embarrassing disease you can catch from being careless or from drinking too much at a naked swim party. Emery is not pushing Alejandro about telling his siblings about the baby. He figures Alejandro will deal with that when the baby is actually here.
“Has anyone called Otto and Billie?” Anna asks.
“Your mother insists that I don’t tell them.” Buzzy shifts in his seat and reaches for the bowl of walnuts in shells on the coffee table. Emery looks at the nuts and thinks that he has never been home and not had nuts within arm’s reach.
“What about Bubbe and Zeyde?” Portia asks.
“Absolutely not,” Buzzy says. “They’d want to come out here.”
“Can you imagine Portia trying to cook kosher?” Anna laughs.
“Shhh!” Emery shushes with his finger in front of his mouth as if he is blowing out a flame on the tip of his nail.
The show is on again.