A houseboat. Finegan Fine

Then comes Matilda. Then when she leaves

they’re set to go off to do somethin. But I

never hear her tell them what to do. . . She

points to this or that one and asks a question.

That’s it. . . Huh.

Now Matilda is jumping up on the wagon, to thunderous applause.

Clem says I’m the jell in the jello, and my dad

always said I brung his mind to a focus, but to

my way of thinking it ain’t me. It’s you. It’s

you come up with what to do, and it’s you who

do it. But we rounded up the pigs now and I’ve

got more time. If this is what you want me to

do, then I’m happy to help.

119

With that, Matilda hops off the wagon and continues to work the crowd

on the edge of the seating area. Finegan is still dumbfounded.

Huh.

______________________________

Finegan and Joey are walking up over the hill between the flea market

and the houseboat, going home. They are silhouetted against the setting

sun. Sounds of cheering and whooping are in the background. Matilda is

being carried about on the shoulders of her backers, clearly having

won. Finegan and Joey look back over their shoulders at the uproar,

turning around to look back on the flea market for a moment. Finegan is

shaking his head.

I still can’t figure it . .

Joey is still trying to explain what he observed when Finegan was off

trading and he was trailing along behind Matilda. He puts both hands

first on one side and then the other, trying to indicate first

confusion and then resolve.

You should’a seed her. First folks were looking

worried. One lady looked like she was gonna

cry. Some guy red in the face. Then Matilda’d

come up and ask a bunch of questions. Then

everyone’d be smiling and Matilda’d walk away.

Joey looks up at Finegan to see if he’d gotten his point across.

I swear.

Finegan is pondering, but finally says,

. . or it’s the barbeque.

120

Canibals

The tide is coming in, waves slapping against the shore. Finegan and

Joey are pulling in the fishing net and sorting out the catch, putting

flapping fish and snapping crabs into a bucket and sweeping any twigs,

seaweed, or coke cans that got swept up into the net back into the

water. Gradually the incoming tide starts carrying more and more

floating debris. A partially empty soda bottle, tightly capped, comes

by. Splintered boards, a woven sewing basket, a child’s rag doll with a

smiling face, and finally a bloated dead body. The body has been

partially eaten by fish, but the belly, covered by shirt and pants, is

still intact and full of bloat. Finegan says,

I think I just lost my appetite.

______________________________

Finegan is at the rear of the houseboat, peddling to get some distance

from shore. Joey, who is sitting on a box at the rear, is looking back

toward shore. Joey says,

I think we’re clear. . . Was that gross or

what.

Finegan rolls off his bike seat and climbs up onto the houseboat roof

to get some perspective, shielding his eyes with his hand. He looks

back toward shore at first, then turns to look out toward deep water.

Oh Lord. . . Gets worse.

Joey jumps up to join Finegan, to see what he is looking at. They both

stand side-by-side, hands shielding their eyes.

In the distance is a conglomeration of rafts, made from pastel

insulation boards, pink and baby blue. The raft city seems to almost

fill the horizon, spreading from one side to the next, and is floating

closer to them on the incoming tide. Some of the rafts have soggy

cardboard boxes on them, half melted flat by repeated rainstorms. Some

items of clothing are thrown on the insulation boards here and there,

as though someone stripped and didn’t bother to pick up afterwards. An

empty pie tin, partially filled with rainwater, stands on one raft, the

sole item that raft contains.

Except for items of clothing, the rafts seem empty, and devoid of

people. The rafts are looped together by construction netting used to

keep the public from construction sites. This netting holds a half

dozen insulation rafts together in a neat rectangle, with each

rectangle then tied to the others with rope. The raft city was

constructed, in desperation, as flood waters were overtaking an island.

121

One of the rafts has a sign laid flat, which says “Ellis Construction”

in red lettering against a white background. What looks like rusty

reddish/brown paint smears are amid the red lettering and on the pastel

pink of the insulation board raft. An open pocketknife is laid on the