"So the skin suit, did he really have a skin suit that he put on in the night and you know, ran around the backyard, howling at the moon?" I ventured.
"Oh yes." she responded.
"The skin suit was real. But he didn't wear it outside..." she reassured, her voice hushing itself when she said 'outside', as if constructing and wearing a skin suit was one thing, but wearing it outside in the night was somehow beyond the pale.
"And....it wasn't really a suit...it was like a top and bottoms..." she continued.
"Wait." I interrupted.
"It was like a shirt and pants?! A pantsuit?!" I asked, incredulous. Somehow it being a two-piece made it seems less, well, sophisticated. Kind of raggedy, not like a sleek wetsuit.
"He collected nine vulvas." she mentioned, in case I thought Gein was some sort of plebeian.
"Wow, I only have two pairs of shoes." a visitor commented. I could tell that he didn't know what a vulva was.
"People in the town liked him. They said as a child he had activities after school, or he played with his mom." the guide continued.
"That sounds like fun, getting dressed up like a girl all afternoon." I responded, referencing something she told us earlier that had driven Gein to being an indoor skin-pantsuit wearing fella.
"So, those townspeople burned his whole house down after they found out what was going on in there?" another visitor asked.
"Yes." she responded.
"They didn't want it becoming some sort of tourist destination...."
"Who would visit that?!" the visitor responded, somewhat shocked. I found myself glancing around, curious if he realized exactly where he was at the moment. Behind him hung a framed strand of human hair that Ed Gein had supposedly carried on his key chain.
"Well, god, my bosses were just there two weeks ago!" she responded, giggling.
A few weeks into summer, I started getting messages from Eduardo. I was relieved. I asked him how his summer was going and he responded in one word answers. He asked me to send him links to the games we played in class so that he could do them during summer school. He said none of the other kids were there - no Rafael, no Danny. He was on his own.
An old friend came to town and given my social proclivities, I got nervous. And drunk. I cleaned the house, like, a lot, before she arrived. Scrubbed everything, laid on my stomach and polished the floors. And then, I sat in the backyard on a blanket with Lola and got drunk and waited for her to arrive.
"Wagner, can you help me arrange these retention-appeal meetings?" a work text message asked.
"Yes. I'll request interpreters, too." I responded. I don't want to work during the summer for free, but I also don't want something random to go wrong and have any of my students get held back. Or have their parents sit through meetings that they don't understand. Many of my third and fifth graders "failed" their big standardized test this year, but I didn't think a single one of them would benefit from repeating a grade.
"Yes. I'll request interpreters, too." I responded. I don't want to work during the summer for free, but I also don't want something random to go wrong and have any of my students get held back. Or have their parents sit through meetings that they don't understand. Many of my third and fifth graders "failed" their big standardized test this year, but I didn't think a single one of them would benefit from repeating a grade.
If man is five, if man is five....
Then the devil is six, devil is six, devil is six
"AND GOD IS SEVEN! GOD IS SEVEN!" I screamed with the rest of the crowd, my hands over my head with seven fingers in the air, together with many other hands with seven fingers in the air, forgetting about everything, absolutely everything for at least a little while.
My phone started blowing up with messages from parents about the meetings. Very confused messages. Then, I sat through multiple Zoom meetings, advocating that the kids advance to the next grade. I started doing them while propped up on my bed with my background blurred so that no one could see where I was. I could tell summer was not going to let me have it.
Alec unexpectedly got a few days off. We found a small cottage at Cape San Blas. It was very close to the beach and we could actually see the water from two different vantage points in the house. I love the beach, even though I don't really identify with most beach goers. I even liked sitting on the floor of the barren screened porch of the cottage with Lola, looking out at the snippet of ocean that was visible.
Upon return, I was back at Prem's house, reviewing more options for school choice with his sister. They had rearranged the living room and it now featured a plush rug that my toes inadvertently kept digging into and a big Buddhist altar.
Later that week, I woke up with a large number of text messages awaiting me, asking if I had "seen the news". One was from my principal. I clicked them open, discovering that a fire had engulfed the trailers behind the school. Behind the school, where I work.
"Your school library....all of your things....." my sister questioned, dismayed.
I sat up in bed. The local news said there was an arson investigation, given that a discarded gas can was left in the parking lot.
"Your trailer is unharmed." one message announced while I rubbed my eyes, wrapping my head around what had happened in the night.
*Title, lyrics The Pixies, Monkey Gone to Heaven
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