Read Online Among the Ten Thousand Things by Julia Pierpont - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia Pierpont
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bench near the playground, a school group shrieking. It was a cool day for playground weather but their little bodies kept hot, running and jumping and swinging. Jack watched them and wondered how anyone could doubt that human beings came from monkeys. At the slide, kids at the bottom end scooted up the wrong way to go again.
He’d been up front about not wanting children, and Deb had been afraid to tell him in the beginning. But then, life, and she was having one, they were, and it surprised them both how it changed him. Most infidelities happen during pregnancy, when the woman is a whale and cries all the time. Maybe that isn’t true but you did hear stories, eight months along and the husband out the door. With Jack it was never that way. When Deb was sore and bloated and soft in places she hated being soft, when her whole body felt like meat and when she was most afraid, that was when he had loved her best.
There was a small, pretty Mexican woman watching him from the bench nearest his. She had a fat blond cherub bouncing in her lap. The women at playgrounds were all sitters. A few reminded Jack of the Latvian woman who’d been their nanny after Deb’s maternity leave with Kay and before Simon was big enough to be in charge after school. Jack was proud they’d gone so long without succumbing to a caretaker.
The pretty Mexican had begun to glare at him. Jack balled up his foil and headed back to the gallery, remembering that there were rules about grown-ups in playgrounds, how long men without children were permitted to sit.
At six o’clock Nicky came. “ ’Sup, boss?” Lanky Nicky in his hoodies and caps, his videographer, twenty-four and twice arrested for vandalism, both times with Jack to bail him out. Today he wore a shirt that boasted TEIAM PLAYER , which Jack wouldn’t get until later. He had his equipment bag heavy on one shoulder, a skateboard and a tripod in his arms.
Nicky was a shy kid and quiet most of the time, qualities Jack found common in street artists, which would have surprised people but shouldn’t have; the art required them to disappear. And Nicky disappeared well behind a camera. That was what Jack liked about him.
Nicky set the tripod where Jack told him. He gave a thumbs-up when they were rolling and Jack fingered the detonator in his hands. “All right, steady.” He’d done a number of practice runs at the studio, but still there was no guarantee that the walls would break along the right lines, that the impact wouldn’t subtract too much or too little.
He’d wanted to save the explosions for opening night, for an audience, but the safety people wouldn’t let him unless they were behind glass, which showed how little they understood.
There was a slight lag when he pressed the button before plaster shot off in all directions. Clouds of it got into his clothes, into his lungs, would have gotten into his eyes but for the goggles. Good he’d had the extra pair for Nicky.
They went section by section, stopping to set up the next shot, a new angle.
They waited for the dust to settle.
The air puffed and swirled milky around them. Particles sank into small heaps on the floor. The rubble was good. He’d keep that. Jack thought the walls had all gone off without much problem. A piece by the window on block #3 had not blasted all away, but it looked okay that way, maybe better. That was one thing he liked about the blasts, how they allowed for happy accidents.
Even with the goggles, Jack’s eyes had watered. He went out to the lobby to breathe.
There he took a sheet of letterhead from the receptionist’s desk and wrote a note.
NO ONE MUST TOUCH THE DEBRIS.
He tucked the page into her keyboard, between the keys.
Nicky was at the window, reviewing footage by the blue light of the dying day.
Jack came up behind and looked over his shoulder. “What do you think?”
Nicky frowned. “How do you want to project these?”
“A few screens in back. Have it on a loop. I
He’d been up front about not wanting children, and Deb had been afraid to tell him in the beginning. But then, life, and she was having one, they were, and it surprised them both how it changed him. Most infidelities happen during pregnancy, when the woman is a whale and cries all the time. Maybe that isn’t true but you did hear stories, eight months along and the husband out the door. With Jack it was never that way. When Deb was sore and bloated and soft in places she hated being soft, when her whole body felt like meat and when she was most afraid, that was when he had loved her best.
There was a small, pretty Mexican woman watching him from the bench nearest his. She had a fat blond cherub bouncing in her lap. The women at playgrounds were all sitters. A few reminded Jack of the Latvian woman who’d been their nanny after Deb’s maternity leave with Kay and before Simon was big enough to be in charge after school. Jack was proud they’d gone so long without succumbing to a caretaker.
The pretty Mexican had begun to glare at him. Jack balled up his foil and headed back to the gallery, remembering that there were rules about grown-ups in playgrounds, how long men without children were permitted to sit.
At six o’clock Nicky came. “ ’Sup, boss?” Lanky Nicky in his hoodies and caps, his videographer, twenty-four and twice arrested for vandalism, both times with Jack to bail him out. Today he wore a shirt that boasted TEIAM PLAYER , which Jack wouldn’t get until later. He had his equipment bag heavy on one shoulder, a skateboard and a tripod in his arms.
Nicky was a shy kid and quiet most of the time, qualities Jack found common in street artists, which would have surprised people but shouldn’t have; the art required them to disappear. And Nicky disappeared well behind a camera. That was what Jack liked about him.
Nicky set the tripod where Jack told him. He gave a thumbs-up when they were rolling and Jack fingered the detonator in his hands. “All right, steady.” He’d done a number of practice runs at the studio, but still there was no guarantee that the walls would break along the right lines, that the impact wouldn’t subtract too much or too little.
He’d wanted to save the explosions for opening night, for an audience, but the safety people wouldn’t let him unless they were behind glass, which showed how little they understood.
There was a slight lag when he pressed the button before plaster shot off in all directions. Clouds of it got into his clothes, into his lungs, would have gotten into his eyes but for the goggles. Good he’d had the extra pair for Nicky.
They went section by section, stopping to set up the next shot, a new angle.
They waited for the dust to settle.
The air puffed and swirled milky around them. Particles sank into small heaps on the floor. The rubble was good. He’d keep that. Jack thought the walls had all gone off without much problem. A piece by the window on block #3 had not blasted all away, but it looked okay that way, maybe better. That was one thing he liked about the blasts, how they allowed for happy accidents.
Even with the goggles, Jack’s eyes had watered. He went out to the lobby to breathe.
There he took a sheet of letterhead from the receptionist’s desk and wrote a note.
NO ONE MUST TOUCH THE DEBRIS.
He tucked the page into her keyboard, between the keys.
Nicky was at the window, reviewing footage by the blue light of the dying day.
Jack came up behind and looked over his shoulder. “What do you think?”
Nicky frowned. “How do you want to project these?”
“A few screens in back. Have it on a loop. I
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