A Lost King: A Novel by Raymond Decapite Page B

the room was in. And then he complained about the street where the house was and then the city and then the world. Do you know what they did? They put a cushion on his chair. And then he didn’t know what to say and so he took the old strings and those pieces of wood and he made himself a harp. And then he began to make music for everyone who came to the house. And then he made music for the city and the world. Do you know what I think? I’ll have to find a cushion for the chair of my darling Peggy.”
    â€œThere’s just no use talking to you. Good night.”
    â€œWait then. How about another kiss?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWait then. At least scratch your leg before you go. Think of it. Two thousand years of history lost.”
    â€œYou’re impossible, Paul. Now I’m sure of it.”
    She went in and closed the door.
    I walked home. My father was sitting in the rocker on the porch. He was smoking his pipe. For a moment it troubled me to see him sitting alone in the night. Suddenly I felt sure he had been waiting for me to come home and talk and tease him a little. I wanted to give him the delight that Peggy had given me.
    â€œWell, sir, we meet again,” I said. “I’d like to remind you that my name is Paul. I stopped by to let you know it won’t be long now.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œThree more days and I start work on that new job.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m up. I was waiting to hear more about it.”
    â€œThis will be a wonderful year. First I’ll get married. And then I’ll paint the house. I’ll borrow that aluminum ladder from Theodore Ampazis. He says I can lift it with one finger. I’ll paint the house white and then I’ll start on the inside. I’ll plaster the cracks in the walls and paint every room. And then I’ll buy a car and we’ll take long rides down along the lake in the evening. Do you know what? I’ve been thinking about your cousin in Vandergrift, Pennsylvania. In fact, I was waiting for him the other day. What’s his name?”
    â€œMichael. Michael Christopher.”
    â€œWe should take a trip this summer and surprise Michael.”
    â€œAre you losing your mind? I never saw the man. I don’t know anything about him. What the hell do I want to see him for?”
    â€œJust for those reasons. Don’t you wonder about him? Don’t you ever think about his life? Is he married? Has he got any children? How does he earn his living? Does he like music? Does he walk in the woods at night and listen for the song of the nightingale? Are there any nightingales in Vandergrift? Listen, Pa, listen.”
    â€œThere’s no choice for me.”
    â€œIt’s Michael Christopher! He’s calling in the night. Hello, Michael, hello! Speak, Michael, speak! Tell us what you want us to do. Your cousin is waiting, Michael. Not your third cousin. Not your second cousin. It’s your first cousin and you can tell him everything…. Do you know what, Pa? I’m going to make a song for Michael Christopher and his family. Would you like to hear it?”
    â€œPlay if you want to play. It’s either talk or music with you.”
    â€œIsn’t it strange? I can’t stop thinking about Michael. What do you think he’s doing right this minute? Is he waiting for the song?”
    â€œI’ll tell you what he’s doing. He’s sitting there scratching his head. He’s wondering where it all started and where it will end. And he’s wondering what the hell it all means.”

7
    By the time I started work on that new job I had promised to bring special chops and roasts and sausages to most of the neighbors. They invited me to join them for supper on those occasions. I told Theodore Ampazis that I would bring him a leg of lamb every Saturday.
    â€œWe’ll eat it on Sunday,” he said. “I’ll roast it for you with garlic and parsley and