Do you want to see the kid or not?
Jude removes a copy of Treasure Island from the fifth shelf. The sound of gears and hinges groaning and then a wall of books on the other side of the room swings open to reveal a hidden door.
You must be joking, I say.
Don’t you love it, she says.
Oh, I love it.
It was designed by a magician named The Fantastic Marco, fifty years ago.
Behind the secret door is a spiral staircase that disappears into the darkness below. Jude produces a small flashlight and says, I hope you’re not afraid of the dark. At the bottom of the staircase is another door. Jude takes two plastic white masks from a box on the floor and instructs me to put one on.
I don’t want to scare the boy.
Do you want him to memorize your face?
The mask has two round eyeholes and a narrow gash at the mouth and I’ve seen this mask before, at the movies.
Jason? I say.
Michael, she says. I wanted something from the movies. I wanted something simple but menacing.
Of course.
Are you ready? she says.
Yeah.
Don’t go soft on me.
Jude unlocks the door and I push it open slowly. The room is small, with dark wood floors and walls like a little ski lodge. There is a lamp in one corner and the soft yellow light is warm, almost cozy. There is a small refrigerator in one corner, the kind you might find in a college dorm room. In the opposite corner is a toilet and sink. There is a television on, the sound turned low. And then there’s the boy. He’s silent, tiny. He’s lying curled on his side on a narrow futon, his back to us. He is not bound or gagged and he is not blindfolded. Jude and I stand in the doorway and he doesn’t notice us at first. He is watching Tom & Jerry. The boy is transfixed, numb. He holds the remote control in his left hand. His face is dirty and his hair needs to be brushed. I am glad to see that Jude has provided him with the Cartoon Network and a Gameboy to play with and two pillows and a puffy comforter and even a fat stuffed bear for the bed but even so I feel sick to my stomach.
Hey, little man.
At the sound of my voice the boy scrambles into the corner near the toilet. Dark feral brown eyes, so dark it’s like he has no pupils. Or maybe his eyes are completely dilated with fear.
It’s okay, I say.
He shakes his head violently. His whole body is shaking. I take my mask off and drop it to the floor. Jude makes a noise in her throat and I have a feeling she is not amused. I glance up at the ceiling and find the video camera in the corner above the television. Miller is in the Lizard Room, watching us. I can feel his eyes on me. I stare at the camera with pure sweet hatred and slowly mouth the words fuck you.
I turn to Jude. I want to be alone with him, I say.
She stares at me, disgusted. But then she shrugs and walks out.
I sit down on the edge of the futon and pick up the stuffed bear. The boy still crouches by the toilet.
My name is Phineas.
The boy peers at me. I will never hear the end of it from Jude but I tell him my real name. I look at the television and see that Tom has a giant, swollen red paw. He’s hopping around like a maniac and Jerry is laughing at him, hammer in hand. The boy follows my eyes. He stares hard at Tom & Jerry for a minute, then back at me. I wish he would laugh. I want to ask him his name but I reckon it’s best not to push him. We watch Tom & Jerry for ten minutes or so, until it gives way to Dexter’s Laboratory. I’m not familiar with Dexter but I notice the kid’s eyes light up. During a commercial I go over to the little fridge and check out the contents. It seems to me that the boy is more likely to freak out if I stand up, so I crawl over to the fridge on my hands and knees. Jude wants people to believe that her heart is made of stone but she’s not so bad. The refrigerator is stocked with juice boxes and pudding packs and pickles and individually wrapped American cheese and grapes and yogurt and baby carrots and animal crackers and a big plastic jug of chocolate milk. On top of the fridge is a green plastic cup, brown at the bottom with the dregs of chocolate milk.
Whoa. It’s the mother lode in here.
The kid just looks at me. I might be babbling in Greek, as far as the kid is concerned. But I notice he is no longer crouched by the toilet. He has moved maybe two or three feet closer to the futon.
Do you want some more of this chocolate milk?
He stares at me.
I’m gonna have a juice box, I say. You want one?
The kid doesn’t answer. He manages to shake his head and nod at the same time. I get out two juice boxes anyway, and the bowl of grapes. I crawl back to the futon and I’m near enough to touch him. He doesn’t move away, which seems like a good sign. We watch Dexter for a while. I drink my juice box, slurping at the straw and making appreciative noises now and then. I leave the extra juice box on the floor by my foot. I eat a few grapes and the boy looks at me a few times, like he wants a grape but doesn’t want to ask for one.
How old are you? he says.
I’m thirty-nine.
The kid nods, as if calculating.
How old are you?
Five and a half, he says.
Damn good, I say. Damn good age to be.
That’s a bad word, he says.
You’re right. It is a bad word.
My dad says that word when he’s mad. Are you mad?
This just about breaks me.
No, I say. I’m not mad.
He looks at me. Can I have my juice box now?
Yeah, I say. Of course.
I pick up the juice box and hold it out to him. He comes over and takes it from me and I offer to help him with the straw but he says he knows how to do it. The boy has a serious little face and he frowns, working on the straw. But he gets it in the hole eventually and sighs, pleased with himself. I imagine the juice tastes pretty good. He sits down on the futon, a couple feet away from me.
Do you want a grape? I say.
Yes, he says. Yes…please.
What about some of those animal crackers?
The boy shrugs one shoulder. Okay.
I get out the animal crackers and we sit there munching them a while. Pretty soon, Dexter gets himself into some kind of terrible jam with a time machine that keeps coughing smoke and sending Dexter sideways in time, and then a noisy girl appears, who keeps yelling at him. The boy explains that this is Dexter’s sister, Deedee.
Oh, I say.
Do you like this show? he says.
Yeah. It’s good, I say.
It’s pretty good, he says. Johnny Bravo is my favorite, though.
When does that come on?
It’s coming up next, he says.
What’s your name? I say.
Sam, he says. My whole name is Samwise. Samwise Cody.
Samwise, I say. Your mom and dad must have liked The Lord of the Rings.
The boy’s face lights up. Yeah, he says. Except I don’t have a mom. But my dad reads me that book, sometimes. When I go to bed. How did you know?
I read that book when I was a boy. It was one of my favorites.
