Lloyd Webber grows up an outcast and trains to lead a colony as a last resort
A young boy sat inches away from the TV, a big dark brown cabinet model that stood on four legs, with a fabric grill over the speakers below plastic knobs that the rule said he could not touch, and a large glass screen coated with tiny liquid crystal diodes. That is what his Daddy told him. Daddy said that the things called diodes lit in an orderly fashion to form a picture, but all he saw was a place where magic lands appeared, a land of heroes and villains, of strange animals and plants, of adventure and learning. He sat close so he could see the man in the oversized coat with the big pockets talking to the bunny on the counter. The bunny was a puppet, he thought in his four-year-old wisdom, like the sock he would put on his hand and made move like the bunny. What else was a puppet? The fox? It did not look like the bunny, or move like it. Not Farmer Bill. He was a person, just like the Malute Man who had the big pockets in his coat that hid all sorts of strange and wonderful things. They had shown a Malute once, the Malute Man and Farmer Bill, and how it had a big pocket on its belly. The Malute Man had that name because of the big pockets.
A door down the hall closed. His big sister was going to school. She was in third grade and left every morning to walk to the corner and meet other kids and climb in a big red school bus. She came back every day after lunch. However, he could not wait. He was still mad from last night.
Last night after eating and before sleep time she had looked at the TV, at a story about a girl and her Waddle, and how the girl took care of it, and about other girls and their Waddles, and it was not interesting, and he was sure that there was a better show on about heroes and villains or maybe the Malute Man, and he had touched the knob that changed the picture, and she had yelled for Mommy, and his fanny was smacked and he was sent to bed early. She deserved punishment for telling, and he knew just what to do.
Just the day before, while he was playing in the backyard, he had seen his bright orange fire truck with the front wheels that really steered and the pedals that he pushed forward one after the other, then the first, then the other to make it move. The only thing that kept them apart was a fence. He had climbed the fence, and sat on the top rail and leaned forward and put pressure on the bumps between his legs, and it hurt. A lot. If he kicked his sister between the legs that would hurt, punishment for telling.
As she passed the big piano that filled most of the main room, blond haircut shoulder length with bangs, and wearing a blue plaid go to school dress with blue suspenders and a white blouse, he got up and ran after her. She opened the door to the outside and turned when she heard him coming. He kicked hard, and missed.
She laughed, her face all fresh from washing and her hair bouncing. "You dummy. That wouldn't hurt me."
It would not hurt her? When he had sat on the top of the fence, and the rail had pressed between his legs just in front of his body where those lumps were, it had sure hurt him. Curiosity about why it would not hurt replaced the anger he felt.
He asked, "Why?"
From the kitchen his mommy yelled, "Lloyd! Leave your sister alone. Janet, get to school. You're going to be late."
She opened the screen door and turned back. "I have to go to school. I'll show you later. When I come home." The screen door slammed.
"OK," he called to her as she ran down the sidewalk to join other kids, her friends. What was different that it would not hurt her, and how did she know? He would get answers later, so he went back to watch the Malute Man Show.
Lloyd watched the Malute Man, and then Mommy turned the knob so he could watch the Space Cowboy. Then he went into the backyard by all the trees that everyone called woods. He liked the trees, big and steady and never moving out of place, even when the wind blew and they sang to him. He always knew when the wind blew, because the trees would sing to him. He played on the swing and the long trough he could slide along until he hit the ground. Soon he felt hungry.
Mommy brought out two carinut and jelly sandwiches and sat with him under the big tree. He started to pick up the sandwich with his left hand, and she slapped it as she had slapped it every time he tried to use that hand.
"Stop that! Only dumb boys use their left hand. Smart boys use their right hand, the other hand."
Lloyd picked up the folded bread with his right hand. "Feels wrong."
"Don't argue with your Mother. You don't want people thinking you're dumb, do you?"
They ate their sandwiches and listened to the wind. The woman went inside to do inside things. Lloyd curled up under the big tree in the back yard where they had eaten lunch and closed his eyes. He heard the black thing you used to talk to people far away making noise. It was on a table in the eating room, in easy reach if he ran, but he the rule said he could not touch it. He drifted off toward the land of dreams.
He woke! Something had made a noise! The back door that let the air through but not the flies had slammed, but he had not slammed it, and Mommy never let it slam. His Mommy grabbed his hand and pulled him up and ran with him half-running and half-flying toward the fence. She broke the fence and pushed a small piece away and again he was running and flying. She never did this when they went to the store, or when a friend came over and she took him across the street to play with the boy over there. Instead, she pulled him to the house toward the railroad tracks and the river.
As they ran, she told the boy, "I have to go get Janet. She's sick. Stay with Mrs. Milligan until I get back." Mommy was out of breath, and running, and scared. Lloyd could feel her scared like a coat when it was cold. He felt her scared so strongly he got scared himself.
"What's wrong, Mommy?"
"Don't you worry about it. You just play here. Watch your TV."
"OK, Mommy." He would do what Mommy said because she was scared and if he did what Mommy wanted and was really good maybe things would be right again and she wouldn't be scared and he didn't want her scared because that scared him.
When they reached the screen door of the white siding house with the blue trim and the blue roof, Mrs. Milligan was already waiting. He could feel her scared also, a second coat of bad things. If they were both scared, maybe he should stay with Mommy. He grabbed her skirt and pulled toward it. Mommy pulled his hand away without saying anything even though he had used his left hand. She passed him on to Mrs. Milligan. Mrs. Milligan was old, way older than Mommy was, and had hair with white in it, and wore a black dress with a white collar all the time, and a scarf over her hair, and she was strange and scary herself, except this time Mommy's scared was stronger.
Mrs. Milligan said, "Go, Jane. Go. Oh, God, with all this fever. I'll pray for you. Just go. Just go."
Mommy left running down the light colored path and to the thing that moved them to the store and other places and hurried away.
The Crack the Whip Ride bus came as it always did, just before the Ranch Lady with the Waddles and the funny cartoons. When it parked up the street and played its merry song Mommy would have taken him to go in and sit in the special seat, and other boys and girls would get in and sit in their special seats, and the dark man would have touched the button, and the chair would have bounced back and forth and then gone around the end so fast he would almost fall out even though he held on so tight, and Mommy would laugh, and the dark man would laugh, and he would laugh. But Lloyd did not do that. He just watched TV, strange shows about other Mommies and Daddies, with lots of yelling and crying. He ate Mrs. Milligan's dinner, which was very strange food and not as good as Mommy's was. Mrs. Milligan did not make him use his right hand. He learned that although his left had felt as if it was the hand to use, he could not control it well, so he switched back to his right hand.
Lloyd was asleep on the floor when Mommy and Daddy came to take him home. Daddy picked him up to carry him to his bed. Lloyd woke enough to hear, but not enough to say anything.
Mommy said, "Thank you so much Marge. We may have to impose again. It really doesn't look good."
"It's not a problem Jane, Dick. It's not a problem. You've eaten? Try to get some sleep. I know it's hard, but you need to think clearly. Lloyd can always stay with me. Bring him over any time. Just call at night to wake me up."
He felt footsteps and cool dry air and the trees sang softly. He started to drift off when he heard Mommy talking softly to Daddy, and knew that everything was important in these strange times.
Mommy asked Daddy, "What are we going to do, Dick? What are we going to do? So many children are dying. And we tried so hard to have her. So hard."
Daddy's deep voice said, "Quiet. Wait 'til he's asleep."
The boy thought that Daddy was not scared, not like Mommy, and he was big and strong and wore metal glasses that looked strong, and he knew many things.
Lloyd asked, "Where's Janet?"
In a very quiet voice Mommy said, "She's sick in the hospital. Now you go to sleep." Daddy lay him down in his bed.
When he woke and climbed over the side of the bed that kept him from falling out, and padded in his footed pajamas into the room with the TV that held the magic lands, Daddy was still home. Daddy was always gone when Lloyd woke up, leaving early to meet the train that took him into the city to work. Daddy always came home to hugs from Lloyd and Janet, and touch mouth from Mommy. Daddy was home now, however, and Mommy was crying in the cooking room, and Janet was not home yet.
Rubbing his eyes as he walked through the arch that separated the eating room from the piano room where he watched the TV, he asked Daddy, "Why are you home? Where's Janet?" Daddy always knew stuff, like Lloyd could hold a violin but not a double bass. The boy liked the vibrations from the really deep notes of the double bass, but Daddy had said that it was too big, and had shown him, and Daddy was right. Daddy was always right. He also knew that the organ at Church had many hidden things Daddy called pipes even though they were not like the pipes Granddaddy smoked. Those pipes made the nice sounds at church, and the deep sounds that vibrated right through him and felt so tingly good. Daddy would know where Janet was. Daddy just sat at the table and stared at the wall, his eyes all puffy like he had cried or something. Daddy did not cry.
Mommy came out of the cooking room and picked the boy up and hugged him to her tightly, almost squeezing his breath out. "Janet had to go away in the night," she said. Mommy was crying. Lloyd could tell. She had water drops on her face like he did when she spanked him and he cried. Why was she crying? Sure Janet was his Big Sister, but she made him so mad at times, and got him blamed for things he didn't do, and told on him when he did something bad whether he meant to or not. And she had promised to show him why a kick would not hurt her. Instead, she had just gone away.
Lloyd asked, "When's she coming back?"
"She's not. She's not." Mommy almost dropped Lloyd and ran back into the cooking room.
Daddy said, "Don't bother your Mommy, Son. Go watch TV or something," and then he just stared at the wall.
The boy knew this was all wrong. This was not how it worked. Maybe it was Daddy's day off or something, but it was not the day for the day off cowboy shows. The boy wanted to make things right. He liked when Daddy played the piano. If Daddy played, then things would be right again.
"You going to play the piano?" he asked.
"Go watch TV," Daddy told the boy. Something was very, very wrong, and the boy did not know what to do. He watched the Malute Man, but it was not the same. Nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same.
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