Goodnight, Boy Read online

  But she left so suddenly.

  I just realised. Number five: We’re lucky because Melanie has been away for so long that she’s sure to be home soon.

  The backyard is overgrown.

  It’s what happens in spring, because all the plants are full of energy and excited after a really long sleep. The grass is waving and dancing and dotted with weeds. No one has mown it since that time when he was angry with me.

  How long does it take for grass to grow all the way up to your knees?

  That’s how long it’s been since Melanie left.

  Remember how the run was green at first? Your claws and pee have killed all the grass. Nothing grows here now, except your shit.

  It’s disgusting. But it’s not your fault.

  He should take you out for walks.

  He shouldn’t leave you in here day and night.

  He shouldn’t have put you in here at all.

  Boy, let’s make the run nice. Clean it up a little. He’d like that.

  Maybe he’ll be so pleased he’ll let us both back into the house.

  What d’you think?

  Don’t just scratch your chin, give me a wag for a yes.

  Was that a yes?

  Yes?

  You sure?

  Gimme a lick too.

  And a paw?

  Thank you, Boy!

  All right then.

  First we have to bury all that.

  I know what we can use.

  It’s not a proper shovel, but I can’t pick your crap up with my hands.

  It’s half a hip bone, I think. Melanie gave it to you as a treat before she left. That flat part will do the job.

  I know, I know you like to chew on it, but the handle end will still taste fine.

  Don’t look at me like that, I’ve seen you eat dried-out cat poop, so I know you’re not fussy.

  Come on, let’s begin.

  Right, you start on the hole. You know how to dig, don’t you? All dogs know how to dig. Here, give me your paw. Now just scrape it along the ground like that. That’s what digging is.

  Ow, don’t nip.

  Ow, Boy, ow! That hurt!

  Ow! Ow! Ow!

  All right, I understand! I understand!

  You don’t want to dig.

  I can do it all with the bone instead.

  Boy, the earth is really hard. Are you sure you can’t help me? I’ve seen you dig holes in flowerbeds before. You were good. You’re strong and your claws are sharp.

  Please, it’s fun.

  It really is.

  No?

  Thanks for nothing, dog.

  Look, Boy, I’ve broken the surface.

  I don’t need you.

  I can do it myself.

  Hey, keep your nose out! What are you doing? Have you found something?

  Oh, it was a worm. You caught a worm.

  Stop running around with it, I want to see. Come here!

  No! Don’t eat it!

  Go away.

  Yes, I am angry with you.

  Of course I didn’t want to eat it. I just wanted to see. I haven’t seen an American worm before.

  Humans don’t eat worms, but you could have offered. I thought we were partners.

  What did it taste of?

  I’d imagine it’s like spaghetti, but chewier.

  Worm breath.

  Hair face.

  Chipped tooth.

  Dumb dog.

  Dumb

  Dumb

  Dumb

  dog.

  Go right over there, I’m not talking to you anymore. Not in the language of my country anyway. My language is special.

  I’m not sharing it with you anymore.

  I’m going to speak to you in Get language, like him.

  How would you like that?

  Get down, dog!

  Get out of here!

  Get off there!

  Get in the house!

  Get away from me!

  Get outta my sight!

  Get lost.

  So many gets.

  I’m tired. I’m going back inside. You can stay out here. I built this place and I don’t want you inside with me.

  Boy! You’re digging!

  Thank you! You’re digging the hole so fast it will be big enough really soon.

  That’s it! You’re nearly done! You’re –

  Oh, you found another worm.

  You gave me your worm? You just brought it over carefully in your mouth and dropped it on my lap!

  Boy, it’s the best present I’ve ever had.

  I’m going to let it go.

  There, it’s inching away.

  Bye, worm.

  Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re hungry but he’ll be back to let us out soon, and I’ll sneak you some extra kibble.

  Keep out of the way, I’m gonna sweep all this into the hole.

  He’ll be really pleased that we’ve cleaned up.

  When he lets me out I’ll tell him that you helped and I’m sure he’ll say you can come back into the house too.

  Done.

  My hands are dirty now, but I don’t want to waste our water.

  I’ll rub them on the ground.

  We watched a TV programme once where a dog looked after a blind woman. Do you remember? It looked like one of those brown and black police dogs. It did her washing and showed her how to cross the road. It even took money out of the ATM for her shopping.

  The presenter said that some dogs can sniff out cancer and save people’s lives.

  Maybe digging a hole isn’t as special as saving someone’s life, but it’s still really good.

  You’re a talented dog.

  You could dig us out of here.

  But he wouldn’t like that.

  It’s better to wait.

  He’ll let us out soon.

  Come closer so that I can lie in the dip on your back. I don’t mind the smell really.

  Can you smell yourself? Here, put your paw to your nose. Look, I’m sniffing myself too.

  Ha! Don’t fall over, stupid.

  It’s hard to sniff your own body, so I’ll tell you what you smell like.

  The top of your head is like the inside of old sneakers, but at the edge there’s something gentle and warm like honey.

  Your ears are…Oh, Boy, your ears are horrible. Like somewhere rats live.

  I’m sorry, but it’s true.

  All right, your back is…Mmm…It smells nice, like wood shavings and cream.

  Here, give me a paw.

  Thanks.

  You have very long nails, Boy. But so beautiful.

  Let me raise your paw high enough and just position myself underneath so I can smell.

  Your paws smell of leather.

  Put your head on my belly.

  What do I smell like to you?

  No licking, just smelling.

  To me I smell of

  Of outside. Nothing else.

  I’m laughing. That’s why my stomach was going up and down.

  I was thinking about how I said that the worm was my best present ever and I realised it sounded funny.

  It wasn’t my best present. Melanie has bought me a lot of things that were better than a worm. Everything she bought me was better than a worm.

  But the worm was the kindest present.

  Thank you.

  It’s dark, Boy. Why hasn’t he come to let us out?

  You’re still awake as well?

  I’ve been listening for the phone in case Melanie calls, but we’re too far from the house to hear.

  She’ll call soon. She likes to stay in touch.

  Do you want a story to help you sleep?

  I can’t remember any book stories, but I could tell you real stories about me. Would you like that?

  They have a beginning and a middle but no end because I haven’t ended yet.

  Do you want to hear?

  Wag for yes.

  That’s definitely a yes.

  Al
l right.

  I was born in Riverbed.

  In my country there are many places with that name, where the only thing that flows in the river is dust.

  Riverbed is not a place you would choose to be born because, when the sun has sucked the earth dry, it’s hard for people to grow enough to eat, and a little extra to sell.

  Most people who live there have dark brown skin and bellies that are always asking for food.

  I know because I’ve met enough people born, like me, in Riverbeds.

  Riverbed is the name of a village you leave behind, Boy.

  But I went away too soon.

  Is America the only place you’ve lived? Have you ever been to anywhere so different that even the rain smells strange?

  Where I come from people don’t have big houses that look like they’ve had a disagreement with their neighbour. There, homes are built with their shoulders pressing together like they’re holding each other up.

  The weather, the plants, the insects, the light, even the dust is not the same there.

  I hadn’t understood how different another country could be.

  I’m not saying it’s bad, it’s just not the same.

  I had a mother and father and brothers and sisters. In my country if a man had only one child people would ask why he hadn’t had more. They would say, ‘If that child dies you will have no one to look after you when you are old. You have to have a spare,’ they would tell him.

  There were many spares in my family, and I’m glad of that.

  I was seven years old when I left. Some of my memories are as if I’m watching them on an old TV, while others are as real as you are to me now, lying here, warm and hairy and smelling of you.

  I know that there were babies, and they must have looked like me, because that’s how it works in families. But, if I try to see them, the faces that come into my mind belong to the little ones I knew much later.

  Something I’m certain I remember properly is the floor in my house. It was like the ground out here, with hard-trodden earth. But we had a rug with tassels that I played with, braiding them over each other then combing them out again.

  I think I remember my mother too. Not her face, and not her name because I called her Maman. But I remember someone soft and warm, like a comforter, and if I really try, I can nearly remember her smell.

  It was on my skin when I was taken to the orphanage.

  I would sniff my arms until one day they washed my mother away.

  So, you see, when they told me that I was an orphan I didn’t believe them.

  How could my mother’s smell have been on me if I didn’t have a mother?

  Boy!

  Wake up, it’s morning, and I just heard the back door open!

  I can see him through this gap in the wall.

  Find your own spy hole, and stop breathing in my ear.

  No, don’t go out there! He looks strange.

  His face is stiff and he’s wearing those grey sweatpants that he’s worn for weeks. There is blood on the leg.

  He’s still limping. But it’s more than that. He’s zigzagging across the grass like a drunk, although the sun has only just come up.

  He’s carrying the phone in his hand.

  Melanie!

  She has called, and he’s going to let me out!

  I’ll make sure he lets you out too, Boy.

  Should I tell her you’re in here? She won’t like it.

  But if I do maybe he’ll tell her what happened.

  No, I don’t want her to know.

  I will just keep quiet.

  When we’re back inside with him, later today maybe, I’ll ask him not to tell.

  He’s unlocking the padlock.

  Now he’s opening the gate.

  I’m going out. You wait here. If I’m not back straight away, don’t worry.

  I’ll ask him to let you out too.

  Do you think he’s told her what we did?

  I’m sorry, Boy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I tried.

  She said to say hello to you. To give you a hug.

  She said my country is beautiful, even more beautiful than she remembered.

  She hasn’t found my family yet, but she said she’s still trying.

  She said to remind him to take me to church.

  She misses you, Boy.

  She misses us.

  She sounded so far away.

  I couldn’t tell her, Boy. I just couldn’t.

  Don’t turn your back.

  It’s not my fault.

  I spoke to him afterward. I said sorry. I said sorry for everything. I promised not to tell Melanie that he locked us in here.

  I promised on your life, Boy.

  He listened, or it seemed like he listened but he was staring at a spot just beyond me.

  Then he just said, ‘Get back in there.’

  And he locked the gate.

  He’s not going to let us out until later.

  I’m sorry

  I’m sorry

  I’m sorry.

  Don’t lick me to wake me up. Your breath smells bad and now so does my face.

  I can see that it’s morning. I’m not dumb.

  I’ll have to use some water from the bowl. Just a splash.

  Boy, you drank all the water while I was asleep!

  Don’t wag! I’m angry with you.

  ANGRY, understand? ANGRY.

  If I could I would lock you in the house with him and I would live here all by myself.

  Just me.

  That would teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget.

  Oh, yes.

  Stop looking at me like that.

  Stop making your eyes so shining and deep and dark and beautiful. It won’t work.

  Stop it.

  Shut your eyes.

  Shut your eyes like this.

  Why do dogs have such kind eyes? Much kinder than people’s eyes. Much kinder than mine and his anyway.

  Your eyes are a lot like Melanie’s, Boy, but without the makeup.

  Imagine what you would look like with mascara and blue painted on your eyelids?

  Hahahahaha!

  You’re smiling. You think it’s funny too.

  I can’t stop laughing now!

  Hahaha!

  Stop making me laugh!

  Ha!

  Stop!

  Oh, Boy.

  No, it’s no good, I’m still laughing at it.

  Makeup!

  Hahahaha!

  This is so perfect.

  Thank you for your paw, Boy.

  I know that you’re sorry for drinking the water.

  I know you love me.

  You don’t need words.

  I just know.

  Come here. Lie down and I’ll tickle your tummy.

  How’s that? Nice?

  More on this side?

  We’re all right, aren’t we, Boy?

  We would be better if Melanie were back and we were inside, but it’s not for long. Punishments always end.

  It’s not like we live in the doghouse, is it?

  And there are worse things than being in here.

  Being stolen is worse.

  I don’t think people steal kids in this country, but they do where I come from.

  It happened to us anyway, to me and my little brother.

  Remember I told you about the riverbed that my village was named after? That’s where it happened, right where all the children played when they weren’t busy with school or chores.

  That day there were just the three of us there, me, my older brother Pierre, and my younger brother James. Pierre had one leg that was wasted and as thin as one of yours, but his arms must have been strong, because he could still join us swinging across the riverbed from a rope.

  When the black van arrived we stopped and stared. It looked smart to us, with darkened glass in the windows so we couldn’t see who was inside, and we were interested. The doors opened and two men climbed down; one hung back and stayed in the shade sm
oking, while the other strode over to us, smiling.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ he said. ‘We meet again. Would you like a push?’

  I’d seen him before; he was a trader who my mother had bought cooking pots from. He had given us sweets.

  ‘Yes, please,’ my big brother said. He climbed onto the rope and the man pushed him so he swung high and he squealed.

  ‘It’s your brothers’ turn now,’ the man said.

  He pushed me and James for a while, then he said, ‘It’s late. Would you two like a lift home? We’re passing right by your house.’

  We had been warned about strangers, Boy, because children were often stolen in my country. But this man knew our mother, he had even called us by our names, so he didn’t seem like a stranger.

  I’ve forgotten my family’s faces, but I remember his. It was unusual, with high, flat cheekbones, dark golden skin and a gap between his teeth.

  ‘Yes, please,’ we said again, excited to be going for a drive. But then he said to my big brother, ‘I’m sorry, Pierre, but I can only take the little ones. Our van doesn’t have seat belts in the back and it wouldn’t be safe for you with your bad leg.’

  He said it in a kind, soft voice, but still Pierre shouted that it wasn’t fair.

  James and I didn’t care about him being left behind.

  We clambered into the van and jumped around on the seats arguing over the best places.

  Then both men climbed into the front and the quiet one started the engine.

  ‘Ready, boys?’ the friendly one asked.

  ‘Yes!’ we shouted.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, laughing.

  ‘Yes!’ we repeated.

  ‘Last chance to change your minds,’ he said.

  ‘We want to go!’ we shouted.

  ‘OK, then, let’s go,’ he said, and we began to drive away from the riverbed so fast that dust was thrown up into a cloud that hid the car and stopped us from seeing Pierre left standing behind.

  ‘This is so cool!’ James shouted over the sound of the engine, and we laughed and laughed as we were bounced around by the rutted bumpy road.

  But then he fell off the seat and hit his head and he began to cry. ‘I want Maman,’ he said.

  ‘Why aren’t we home yet?’ I asked the man.

  He turned back to me, still smiling. ‘We had to go a different way because we’re nearly out of gas,’ he said. ‘Once we’ve filled the tank we’ll drop you off at home.’