6.13 / Queer Two

Excerpt from In One Story

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In one story, the two sisters were Shel Silverstein and they wrote a book about a Giving Tree, which was the old man they were both in love with.

In their book, the old man was giving and kind and befriended a young boy, in whom the two sisters saw themselves.  The Giving Tree gave the boy everything he ever asked for, slowly disassembling itself as it did so.  The boy was so happy to come and ask and be given each and every thing, it felt like true love, so he kept coming back and asking for more until there was nothing left and he sat with the tree, who was their old man, and just waited for the next thing to happen, which they didn’t know how to write, given it hadn’t happened to either of them yet.  The story was so touching it made both of them cry and their wife came in and said, Shelly, what’s wrong?  And they said, Nothing, Pet.  Nothing.  I’m just happy for you and Justin and feel fortunate for how well things are going right now with the illustrations and my poetry and I’m that kind of sad/happy that gets you crying after a couple of glasses of wineYou’ve had more than a couple, his wife said, and lifted the empty bottle before his moist eyes.  Maybe so, or a couple of big glasses, but what does it matter on a night like tonight?  It matters very little if at all, that’s what it matters.  The two sisters took their wife into their arms and she could smell the wine and whiskey and codliver oil on their breath and she started to wonder how much longer this kind of thing would go on, this kind of late night, self-righteous drunken laboring over bizarre and upsetting kid’s stuff and all the wild screaming fits and cursing hurtful words he said to her, sober or drunk, it didn’t matter.  The two sisters began to dance with their wife and turn her back and forth and dip her down.  They kissed her neck.   They hummed and clicked their teeth and spun her again and the story sat on the desk, the decorative drops drying on its clean pages now worth so many millions.  The two sisters saw themselves in their wife too, though not as much as in the boy.  Loosen up, they told her, and she went limp in their arms.  She unhinged her jaw and separated her arms and legs at the joints.  They spun her until she was stirred up and frothing, until stiff little peaks began to form, and they ushered her off to bed.  In the morning the two sisters called their agent and said they had the new book.  They drove Justin to school, and drove the manuscript to the agent who presented it to the publisher.  This is supposed to be a kid’s book, the publisher said.  It’s too sad.  The agent told them what the publisher said and they shook their heads, no no sad is not bad, sad is not something to hide from kidsThis morning, for instance, we told Justin we were getting him a puppy and then we did not get him a puppy.  The boy has to learn.  They could not help smiling at one another for their casual meanness and the agent told them that was awful and could they please try to stay on subject.  The agent suggested they change the story so that the boy gave something back to the Giving Tree, something tangible.  And they argued he did, he gave the old man love, and the agent asked what old manWhat old man, Shel? They didn’t answer because each was all of a sudden scared that the other would find out their true feelings for the old man, whom both of them loved very much and had based the tree on when writing the book.  We’ll change the story somehow, they told the agent and he was satisfied enough with that promise and they were able to leave.  They went to the liquor store and bought more of the things they liked, ribbon candies and Red Hots, which they thought maybe Justin might like, if not now, eventually.  They picked Justin up from school and told him he wasn’t getting a puppy and he just stared out the window like, I know and you probably got more ribbon candy and Red Hots even though you know I don’t like them, which they had.  Later that night they tucked Justin into bed and he asked how their day was in that way too late kind of way that reads loud and clear as I just don’t want to fall asleep quite yet.  They sat beside Justin’s bed and took turns telling him very untrue stories about gnomes they’d seen and money they’d found and snails with giant eyes that told topical jokes and could fix bicycles.  When Justin was finally tired out they went into their office and took out the manuscript from the night before.  It wasn’t much of a story, just a few words about a tree and a boy they saw themselves in.  They liked the boy even though he was kind of a shithead.  Their wife poked her head in, Just checking.  They were planning to work late.  Something in the story had to change.  They needed to sell the thing and stop worrying so much about themselves in the story or the old man they were in love with.  They didn’t say anything about it, but they knew they would need to change a few things about the tree.  Their wife would likely read the story and see something of the old man in the characterization of the tree, because who could really read this thing without noticing how very very very much they loved that tired old giving man.


Colin Winnette is the author of several books. Links to published work can be found at www.colinwinnette.net. He lives in San Francisco.