I’d known Mislowe Stain since the day he was born. His mother and mine were very close; I was twelve at the time and my mother had a tight grip. The body: still, tubes locked into the orifices of his premature body. Mislowe stayed weeks in the hospital. Every night I saw his mother weep and weep.

After leaving the hospital, Mrs. Stain was a bit protective of Mislowe but me and her had a bond. By the time he was four, I was the only person she’d let Mislowe be alone with. I had just turned sixteen and had my driver’s license; every Sunday afternoon I’d pick up Mislowe. We’d go to places like bookstores and the downtown area—you know—where I could still have a chance of picking up a girl.



Once, Michelle, one of my better friends, had gotten into a dispute with Patricia, the town rich-bitch. Patricia ended up grabbing some sort of flower decoration off Michelle’s crown and smashing it against the school-hall floor. Mislowe told me, in short, that he felt bad vibes from Patricia. In the time I spaced-out and returned to attempt exit, Mislowe was consoling Michelle with flowers he must have gotten outside. Michelle later told me Mislowe was pretty smooth, telling her she was more beautiful than Patricia and Patricia is all gold-beauty. I don’t know where he got that idea from—I thought Patricia was pretty hot and he messed up any chances I had of speaking with her.



“So where are you kids headed to today?” She entered through the kitchen wiping ‘round the low of her eyes with the really-soft type of tissue that costs a bit extra.

“We’re going to the zoo—today is special.”

“Oh really?” and she paused to smile at me. “What’s occurred?”

“Well Mrs. Stain, this is gonna’ be the last time I see Mislowe for a while. I’m going to college out-of-state.”

Mrs. Stain was quiet for a bit.

“Oh. Well...” She paused. “Jackson… that’s fantastic!” She paused once again and started walking down the hall. “You know… Mislowe is going to miss you. He really
needs these excursions.” It was as if she was miles away from me already. “I’ll be right back, let me go get him, he’s probably still watching Seabert.” And she disappeared.

Half an hour passed and nobody walked out the hall; I walked into it to run right into Mrs. Stain exiting a room. “Oh!” she now faced me. “You’re here for Mislowe?”

“Yeah, I thought you went to get him for me.”

“Oh yes! I’m so sorry, dear. Follow me.” She started walking down the hall again, dropping stained tissue paper onto the ground. I followed her into Mislowe’s room.



Mislowe loved Seabert, a cartoon about a white seal pup who helps a group of environmentalists defeat a gang of evil-do’ers trying to make a profit. I was the one who actually gave him his first Seabert VHS when I noticed his fascination with the seals at the zoo. The zoo was our special spot; we had decided this on his sixth birthday. Mislowe loved those seals—we’d have the best of times in the zoo; he’d smile and clap and laugh, lift his legs up and down stepping very quickly in joy.



We spent our last time together in the zoo. When we eventually reached the seals, Mislowe was different. I had not yet told him I was leaving, but like a close pet’s instinct tells it something is wrong, Mislowe knew things had changed. We stood in front of the seals for hours. We saw the seals eat and bathe and swim—even attempt procreation—but never did we respond.

“Jackson…”

“Yes, Mislowe?” My stare fixed on the seals in full passion.

“Do you think if I were a seal, Mommy wouldn’t cry?”

“I don’t know Mislowe.” I twisted to look him in the eye. I already missed the shine of his lacy black hair. “That’s a funny question.” I already missed his droopy smile and the bit of saliva which refreshed my face when he giggled; “I guess you could try.”

“You know Mislowe… I’m gonna be headin’ out pretty soon.” I felt Mislowe hold my hand.



“So that Stain family.” My mother loves to speak. “O’ Donna is just insane. Some people just give up.” Right now she’s holding three different plates deciding which of the platters already filling out the table must be moved. “That Mislowe is just like her: one real big drama queen!” I’m amazed she doesn’t drop anything and still communicates with as much emotion as she does. “God, I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in person for six years!” In the time it took me to get myself a glass of water she’s already next to me in the kitchen with the empty platters. “No Christmas, no Thanksgiving! Lots of emails and gifts, but that’s okay. You’re just like your father, an out-to-get-‘em.” She’s done washing the dishes. “But I’ve always stayed firm you got your energy from me. I knew all you had to do was dedicate yourself—now come on baby and follow me.” She’s carrying more plates she had hidden in the fridge and oven. “I’ve invited the Olfonns over. They should be arriving any minute.” She pushes the door open, bumping into someone on the other side, “O’ god!” The plates are intact. “I knew those days serving would pay off!” She opens the door with her foot and stands in front of a man whose shadow covers her. “O’ Fredrik, it’s you!” She leans in her chin and fake-kisses him. “I was just telling Jackson how beautiful Patricia had become since he left.” The plates are intact. “I’m so glad you were able to attend.” She shifts to the right and passes by him. “I was thinking maybe it’d be good if Jackson and Patricia went out later.” She seemed so far away. “You did hear Jackson got a promotion as the local district’s manager?” She was on her way back with more empty plates. “Isn’t that wonderful news?” She is now passing me; I have no shadow. She returns from the kitchen. I’m all that kept still in the living room bustling with the rest of town come to celebrate me. “You have made me so proud, Jackson! I knew you could do it. What was the company’s motto? Sell, sell, sell! I knew you could do it.” She leans up and gives me a real kiss. The movement of the past behind her is a shadow.



“O’ god, Jackson, it’s been so long since I last seen you. You’ve changed so much!” The night-lights downtown are mesmerizing, they even seem a bit rejoiceful. “Jackson?”

“Yeah, beautiful?”

“O’ you didn’t have to mention that.” The whole town seems to be out tonight. “But of course darling, I remember you with that Stain kid. You guys’d even go to those weird rock concerts together.”

“Mislowe?”

“Yeah, whoever. You-know-who. I mean, that was pretty weird. I know it’s friends of the family…”

“O’ congratulations, dear son!” Jonathan Parker is standing parallel to us past the banister of the new trendy bar we’re consuming in. “I just heard the news. I hear the whole town is just as excited as your very own mother about what you’ve become.”

“I bet.” Patricia is glowing; she smiles at him, a fake smile.

“Well—I’ll let you two get on to your things. Now good-luck with your endeavors, young man.”

He winks and walks away. Closing in from the path Jonathan Parker left through, an older lady: shadowed, walking a bit hunched. She pauses in front of us, right where Parker stood. She has smeared makeup. Patricia gives off a fake smile and lifts her eyebrows at me and grabs hold of a hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. Especially since you’re choosing to spend your time with me.” She glows and smiles a fake smile and blows a fake kiss, licks her fake lipstick. The old lady is gone; another figure follows her slowly: flopping. “You ever hear what happened to Michelle?”

“No. What happened?” There’s a distinct sound of a yelp while the figure’s form bounces slowly towards us.

“She went off to be somebody a bit after you left. She seemed desperately sad—the poor thing. I wish her the best of luck.”

Patricia glows and smiles. It’s not fake. The figure now stands in front of us, where Parker and the old lady had each stood. It’s Mislowe, physically pretty-much-the-same, just heavier. He’s on his knees in an unnatural position. He faces us and looks into my eyes. He looks at Patricia and looks back into my eyes. “Oup! Oup!” Mislowe lowers his head to the sidewalk floor and picks up a stained fancy handkerchief with his mouth. He looks into my eyes and flops his way behind his mother.

“What have I become?”

“What did you say, Jackson? You mumbled that last thing you said.” Her head orbits the room. “I didn’t hear you.” Outside us there is a crowd.

“Do you ever listen?”

“Well, I just heard that!” It seems the town is leaving.

“But I mean listen. Do you ever listen?”

“What do you mean?”