Karen Raney
Article
Karen Raney has published art theory and criticism, and currently writes short and long fiction. She has been a jail nurse, a guest house manager, a painter, and the editor of engage journal. She runs the Doctorate in Fine Art at the University of East London and is working on a novel.
Contact: karenraney1 [at] gmail [dot] com
Serenity
My grandfather came up with the idea. Or maybe I did. He said it first anyway, but it was me who led him there.
We had gone to Meridian Hill Park, the best place near their house to walk the dog. My treatments were starting again soon which meant I was feeling my strongest. Still, I would have found it hard to climb the big hill, so we went in the 15th Street entrance at the top of the park and walked down. Barney, my grandparents鈥� elderly Golden Retriever, was straining on the leash for the fun to begin. But first we had to pay a visit to the fountain.
If you ask me, the Meridian Hill fountain isn鈥檛 really a fountain. It is more like a controlled waterfall. There are thirteen shallow pools leading down to a huge one at the end made of old-fashioned stonework and arches because the place was modelled on an Italian villa. The water fills one pool, then spills into the next until some elaborate system 鈥� Grandpa explained it to me once 鈥� pumps it back to the top.
When we got there the fountain was empty. Its chambers of dingy concrete stared up at the sky. Cone-shaped trees filed sadly down the steps on each side. This was its winter look.
鈥極h well,鈥� I said to keep up our morale and to hide how cheated I felt. The fountain had been on my mind all morning. Funny how these days a small thing like running water can be so important. 鈥業t鈥檚 interesting, anyway,鈥� I said. It鈥檚 true I do like seeing the insides and undersides of things normally hidden from view. My grandfather was unimpressed.
鈥榃hat鈥檚 the matter with this place? First of May, the water鈥檚 supposed to be on. Why isn鈥檛 the water on?鈥�
鈥楧on鈥檛 worry, Grandpa. I don鈥檛 mind.鈥�
鈥榃别ll, I mind.鈥�
We made our way to the grassy field on the side where we could let Barney off the leash. Strictly speaking this was against the rules. When he knelt to unbuckle the leash I felt honour-bound to say: 鈥業sn鈥檛 this against the law?鈥�
鈥業t鈥檚 a weekday,鈥� he scoffed, still annoyed about the empty fountain. 鈥楾here鈥檚 no one around. Where鈥檚 the harm in it? You have to keep your own counsel.鈥� That was one of Grandpa鈥檚 mottos: keep your own counsel.
I had three tennis balls and I threw them for Barney before we settled onto a bench dedicated to someone who, apparently, had 鈥榣oved this park for nineteen years.鈥� Barney galloped down the slope, doing his best to track the bouncing balls with violent jerks of his head. He preferred to catch them mid-air than to nose them out of the grass. But these days his jaws mostly snapped the air and the balls fell free. He never seemed to mind. There was bound to be something foul and delicious to check out on the way to their resting place.
鈥楬ave you ever read the Cat and Dog Diaries?鈥� I asked.
鈥榃hat are they?鈥�
鈥楾his online thing someone wrote. The cat one goes: 鈥淎nother day in captivity. My guards give me hash and some kind of dry crackers, while they dine like kings on fresh meat鈥︹�� The dog one goes: 鈥淲aking up. My favourite thing! Food in my dish. My favourite thing! Walking in the rain. My favourite thing!鈥� Get it?鈥�
鈥業 think so,鈥� he smiled.
鈥楥hasing balls with arthritis in my hips. My favourite thing!鈥�
Barney toiled up the hill with his lopsided gait, the balls tucked in the loose skin at the side of his mouth where retrievers hold their birds. He made a detour to offer his services to a Frisbee game before dropping the balls one by one at our feet, grinning like a lunatic. Twelve years old and still a lot of go in him.
My grandfather bent over and scrubbed Barney鈥檚 ruff with both hands. 鈥楾ell me about it,鈥� he crooned into the watery eyes. 鈥楢ll about it.鈥�
I picked up a ball and threw it, making a face. 鈥楽limy disgusting tennis ball! My favourite thing!鈥� Barney hurled himself downhill. It never crossed his mind that he was old.
鈥楢nd he tries to trip his owner,鈥� I said.
鈥榃ho does?鈥�
鈥楾he cat writing the diary. 鈥淣ext time I鈥檒l try it at the top of the stairs.鈥濃��
鈥楾hat鈥檚 a bit extreme, isn鈥檛 it?鈥� asked Grandpa mildly. 鈥榃ould your cat do that to you?鈥�
鈥極f course not! Cloud luuuves me.鈥�
鈥榃别ll, then.鈥�
鈥楤ut she鈥檚 still a kitten.鈥�
鈥榃ait 鈥榯il she gets to be a teenager. Then watch out.鈥�
My grandfather laughed with his inward-tipping teeth and laid his hand on my head. The weight of it through my baseball cap made me feel safe.
鈥楪谤补苍诲辫补?鈥�
鈥榃丑补迟.鈥�
鈥楬ow would you feel if you knew something didn鈥檛 want you?鈥�
鈥楧idn鈥檛 want me?鈥�
鈥楽omeone, or something, was telling you no. 鈥�
He studied my face for a minute. He said carefully, 鈥楢re you talking about your illness, Maddy?鈥�
鈥榃hat do you think I鈥檓 talking about?鈥�
He turned his head, suddenly interested in the candy bar wrappers and newspaper scraps dotted about on the grass. 鈥業 wish they took better care of this place. The best park in D.C. It鈥檚 shocking.鈥�
I swung my legs under the bench and waited. Barney had missed his mid-air catch again and was sniffing in tight circles at the edge of the shrubbery.
鈥楾hat鈥檚 a subjective feeling, Maddy,鈥� Grandpa said at last. 鈥業 can understand you might feel like that. But it doesn鈥檛 necessarily accord with the facts. We have to think scientifically about these things.鈥�
鈥楩acts!鈥� I exploded. 鈥楾he fact is there鈥檚 something in the universe, or multiverse or whatever you call it, that doesn鈥檛 want me.鈥�
鈥楽飞别别迟颈别鈥︹赌�
鈥�No more Maddy, it鈥檚 saying. You can鈥檛 argue with that. It鈥檚 not saying no to you, is it? Or to Barney, even.鈥�
鈥榃别ll, actually I can argue with that,鈥� my grandfather began, but I kept the scowl on my face and pushed on before I thought better of it.
鈥榊ou know what I think? I think it all started with my father.鈥�
Grandpa cupped his ear with one hand. 鈥楤eg your pardon?鈥�
鈥業 think that鈥檚 where the idea came from. Originally.鈥�
I knew he had heard what I said because he didn鈥檛 ask again. He fixed his eyes on some picnickers sprawled on the grass off to our right, amid the remains of their lunch. The girl was lying with her head on the guy鈥檚 chest. The guy had a book spread open on his face; he couldn鈥檛 have been asleep though, because his fingers were stroking her hair.
鈥楰now what I mean?鈥� I prompted.
Grandpa鈥檚 lips were a thin line and he was tense about the eyes, but I knew that鈥檚 just the way he looks when he feels out of his depth. I bet he was longing for Grandma to rise up out of the bushes and take over. He didn鈥檛 know that if she had been there, I might not have dared say any of these things.
No one talked about my father much when I was growing up. There was nothing to say about someone who had bowed out so early and did not even know of my existence. My mother answered me when I asked her questions, because she believes in honesty and she always tries to do the right thing. I know my father is Spanish, he鈥檚 a scientist, he鈥檚 called Antonio, and he has my eyes and hair. Or rather I have his. After Mom found out she was pregnant, they went their separate ways and she never saw him again. They had never planned on having children together, and anyway he had to return to Spain because there was a sudden death in his family.
I could see beating around the bush would get me nowhere. 鈥榃hat I want to know,鈥� I said slowly, 鈥榠s why would a father not want to raise his own child?鈥�
Grandpa spoke at last. 鈥業 would not call him a father,鈥� he said reluctantly. 鈥楢 father is someone who does raise his child.鈥�
鈥榃hat am I supposed to call him? A sperm donor?鈥�
鈥業 would call him a young man sowing his wild oats who made a mistake. He was too lacking in imagination, or too weak 鈥� 鈥�
鈥楬e had to go back!鈥�
My grandfather looked at me askance, as if that鈥檚 the first he had heard of it. 鈥榃别ll, whatever happened, the point is he didn鈥檛 decide against you. You - Maddy - had not come into being yet. He decided against an abstract idea. He might have regretted it ever since. We don鈥檛 know.鈥�
鈥楤ut anyway,鈥� I persisted, 鈥榯he fact is he didn鈥檛 want me. As an idea.鈥� I gave a hoot. 鈥楢nd now it turns out the universe doesn鈥檛 want me either. You can鈥檛 argue with that.鈥�
But Grandpa was prepared to try. He launched into one of his long explanations about evolutionary change and variation and genetic accidents, and the way accidents ensure that the species is strong in the long run.
鈥業 get sick so that everyone else can be healthy?鈥�
鈥楾hat鈥檚 not what I鈥檓 saying. What I鈥檓 saying is it鈥檚 not personal. There鈥檚 not someone out there giving Maddy a disease just to be mean. It鈥檚 the way nature works. It鈥檚 chance. Some people have diabetes and some people have weak hearts. Some people get cancer.鈥�
He had said this before in different ways. I could never decide what I thought about it, which is why I kept getting him to go over it again. I knew he meant it to be comforting and it was in a way, and I wanted it to be. But this idea of no one being responsible - not me, not my mother, not the doctors, not even God if he exists but can鈥檛 tamper with the laws of nature 鈥� I found incredibly scary. I would almost prefer it if someone, somewhere was making the decisions, even if what they decided, cruelly and maliciously or just callously and indifferently, was to harm me. Otherwise, what is anything supposed to mean? Who is in charge?
鈥極kay, I get that,鈥� I said, because there was no point in hearing it all again.
My grandfather returned his attention to the litter-speckled hill. His nostrils were flared in relief or further thought, or in contempt for slapdash park maintenance. Pink wings of forehead had made inroads into his hair. Baldness of the usual kind was definitely on the cards. I thought of his face in church. His was a different kind of praying than my grandmother鈥檚. Her passionate frown dated back to when my mother was born, when something spoke to her first, and since then she had tried extra hard to keep on hearing it. Whereas during the silent prayer Grandpa had these slightly humorous, slightly indulgent, 鈥榟ey, whatever鈥� brows arched over his closed eyes. Given what he had just gone to great lengths to explain, what I wanted to know was: did he even believe? Or was he going along with it for her sake, or for some other obscure reason to do with the mind-set of their generation?
I wanted to know, but I didn鈥檛 want to embarrass him by asking. To be honest, I was afraid of what he might say. He could keep that to himself. But I was determined to continue my other line of questioning.
鈥楪randpa, would you have abandoned your daughter?鈥�
Mutely, he shook his head.
鈥楢nd if you did abandon your daughter, would you want to know whether or not she even existed? Would you want to meet her? Or would you think, 鈥渙h, that鈥檚 nothing to do with me鈥�?鈥�
Barney was at our feet again with the slathery ball. Neither of us picked it up. He pranced back and forth and thrust the ball into our hands, but eventually he gave up and lay glumly down.
鈥楲et鈥檚 see,鈥� said Grandpa in a helpless kind of voice, stalling for time.
鈥業 mean, men should have an idea how other men think, shouldn鈥檛 they?鈥�
He stretched his arm along the bench top. 鈥業 suppose they should.鈥� He crossed his legs one way. 鈥業 suppose they should.鈥� He re-crossed them the other way.
Had he forgotten the question? I was about to repeat it when, not looking at me but at the apartment buildings beyond the park, my grandfather said:
鈥榃别ll why don鈥檛 you find out?鈥�
鈥楩ind out what?鈥�
鈥楩ind out what his thinking was.鈥�
鈥榃hose thinking?鈥� I asked cautiously.
鈥榊our biological father鈥檚 thinking.鈥�
鈥楢ntonio, you mean?鈥�
鈥楬e did seem like a nice young man.鈥�
I stared so hard at Grandpa, he turned to look at me. 鈥榊ou knew 丑颈尘?鈥�&苍产蝉辫;
鈥榃别 met him a few times. Your mother brought him over to the house.鈥�
鈥榊ou鈥檙e telling me you knew my father?鈥�
鈥業 can鈥檛 say we knew him,鈥� he said hastily. 鈥榃别 met him that鈥檚 all, on a couple of occasions.鈥�
鈥楪randma too?鈥�
鈥極f course.鈥�
鈥楤ut why did you never mention it?鈥�
My grandfather spread his hands on his knees. He leaned his weight forward on straightened arms, his shoulders up around his ears. He seemed never to have formulated these particular thoughts before.
鈥業 guess because your mother had buried the whole thing pretty deep. He made his decision and she had to make hers. It wasn鈥檛 easy. And I guess in order to carry through with it and build a new life for herself, she had to decide he didn鈥檛 exist for her. Or something like that. So we followed suit.鈥�
鈥楢nd what about me?鈥� My voice come out high and pinched. 鈥楧idn鈥檛 anyone think about what I would want?鈥�
鈥榃别 were thinking about you, all the time. Constantly. Don鈥檛 be hard on her, Maddy. Your mother鈥檚 done a first-rate job. She did tell you.鈥�
鈥楾he bare facts of the matter, yes. I always said when I鈥檓 eighteen I would track him down.鈥�
鈥楬ow old are you now?鈥� As if he didn鈥檛 know.
鈥楽颈虫迟别别苍.鈥�
He gave me another long look.
鈥楽ixteen with cancer,鈥� I said.
鈥楽o why don鈥檛 you do it now?鈥�
It was like a conversation in a dream. I frowned. 鈥楥ould I really do that?鈥�
鈥榊ou鈥檙e asking me?鈥� smiled Grandpa. 鈥業 thought you were the internet generation.鈥�
鈥業 mean could I do it, you know, with Mom and everything?鈥�
After a while he said: 鈥榊our mother has enough to worry about. It would stir the whole mess up again for her.鈥� Another pause. 鈥業f she knew.鈥�
We sat gazing in the same direction to where the city poked its windows over the south-side trees. All of a sudden my grandfather鈥檚 head swivelled around.
鈥楲isten to me, Maddy.鈥� For an easy-going person he could drop into command mode just like that. 鈥楾his is very important.鈥� He raised one knotty forefinger. 鈥楽ixteen years is a long time. You鈥檇 have to be prepared for anything. Anything. He could decide not to reply. He could be unpleasant.鈥�
鈥楪ot it,鈥� I said.
鈥楬e could be dead.鈥�
I wanted to look away, but I didn鈥檛. 鈥楢lright, already.鈥�
鈥楬e could have a family now and not want to hear from you.鈥�
Only then did I have to blink away tears. They came without warning and my grandfather saw.
鈥楲isten, Grandpa,鈥� I said severely, to let him know I could do serious too. 鈥楾hink about it. What have I got to lose?鈥�
鈥楺uite a bit.鈥� He sat back, sounding tired.
鈥榊ou were the one who said I should find him!鈥�
鈥榊ou might have to give up an idea you have about him.鈥�
I jerked my hand up and down, indicating my entire invaded self. 鈥楽o I lose an idea? Big deal. Add it to the list.鈥�
Now his eyes were watering. That I could not stand. I summoned my sweetest, most encouraging voice. 鈥楤ut it might have a good ending! It could, you know. And then wouldn鈥檛 it all be worth it?鈥�
鈥榊es,鈥� he said. 鈥業 guess it would.鈥�
Silence thickened between us. Sensing a change of heart, Barney brought me the ball again. I drew my arm back and hurled it downhill with a long hard overhand.
鈥楪ood one,鈥� said Grandpa approvingly. 鈥榊ou don鈥檛 throw like a girl.鈥�
鈥楬别测!鈥�
鈥楽辞谤谤测.鈥�
鈥榊ou鈥檇 better be. Look! He finally caught it.鈥�
I made a fuss of Barney on his return. He had already forgotten what he had done, but accepted the praise as his due.
My grandfather and I stood up at the exact same time. He snapped on the leash. 鈥楽ee?鈥� he said with satisfaction. 鈥楴o harm in a little strategic rule breaking.鈥�
On the way back, we took the footpath that went past the Statue of Serenity. She sits on a square base under the trees. When I was little I had been afraid of this statue and refused to look straight at her. She used to appear in my dreams. Later on I was fascinated with her brokenness and made a point of visiting her. Still, I always approached her from the right where she has a complete hand. The one on the other side is gone and the wrist stump sticks up in the air. That must be why it broke off, because she was raising her hand to make a point. Grandpa told me Meridian Hill used to be the most dangerous park in the city. During the height of the vandalism someone would have broken off her hand just for the fun of it.
I positioned myself in front of the statue the way I always did, preparing myself before looking up. It鈥檚 like her whole face has been eaten away. The eyes are blanks and where the nose and lips should be the there is only pitted and crumbling stone. It is a shame because you can tell she used to be beautiful and her gown still is, gathered at the waist and flowing between her knees to the ground. I don鈥檛 know why she鈥檇 be sitting on rocks dressed like that, but she has her bare feet planted apart in a proud, strong pose as if she doesn鈥檛 know she鈥檚 damaged or has decided not to care.
鈥楧id you know there is a statue identical to this one in Luxembourg?鈥� asked Grandpa, yanking Barney away from the pedestal where he was lifting his leg.
鈥榊ou mean with her face and hand missing?鈥�
鈥楴o, silly. Same subject, by the same artist. Spanish, I believe.鈥� He peered at the inscription. 鈥楬uh. It was bought at the Paris Exhibition in 1900. Apparently the sculptor liked to use Isadora Duncan as a model. Huh! What do you know.鈥�
鈥榃hy do you love facts so much, Grandpa?鈥�
鈥楧o I?鈥� He sounded pleased that someone had noticed. 鈥業 guess because the more you know about something, the more interesting it becomes.'
鈥楤ut you don鈥檛 like rules.鈥�
鈥楴ot when they鈥檙e invented to keep us in line. Or show who鈥檚 boss.鈥�
鈥楾o stop people from attacking statues you mean?鈥�
He laughed. 鈥楢s you can see, they don鈥檛 always work. It鈥檚 petty rules I don鈥檛 care for. Small-minded officiousness.
鈥榃hat about the rules in music?鈥�
鈥榃别ll, yes. That鈥檚 different. Or language. Rules allow you to say more. We wouldn鈥檛 get very far grunting at each other and pointing, would we? But I guess we鈥檙e talking about whole systems now.鈥�
My grandfather gets this faraway look in his eyes when he鈥檚 got hold of an idea and he鈥檚 trying to separate out the parts and put them in different boxes.
鈥楢nd then there are family rules.鈥� He removed his glasses and polished them. His eyes looked old and naked until they were back behind glass. Once he鈥檚 got the parts of the idea lined up in the right order, like cars on a toy train, he can pull the train forward. 鈥業t might be: Don鈥檛 keep secrets from each other. Or it might be: Don鈥檛 give too much away. See what I mean? Rules can always be broken. Whereas facts,鈥� said Grandpa, bending forward from the waist to examine a patch of moss on the statue鈥檚 knee, 鈥榶ou can鈥檛 break facts. You can鈥檛 disobey facts. They just are.鈥�
鈥楪谤补苍诲辫补?鈥� Even thinking it made my heart flap in my chest like something trying to get out. 鈥楧o you really think I should try to contact my so-called father?鈥�
My grandfather took my arm the way Grandma does, though without the same need. We turned our backs on Serenity and made our way up the hill.
鈥榊es,鈥� he replied. 鈥榃ith all the aforementioned caveats, I really do.鈥�
鈥榃hy are you smiling?鈥�
鈥業鈥檓 not,鈥� said my grandfather.
But he was. And we both knew it.
