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pointed out that in movies they always cut off branches and the top first.
Otherwise the tree would surely demolish the house when it fell.
Someone got the ladder and Howard climbed it and started the saw again.
He brought it down to the tree limb, hesitated, turned off the saw, dropped it
to the ground and climbed back down.
He was trembling. "I just wanted to give the old lady a scare. Show her
who's boss. Let's eat." He didn't look at me.
He got drunk and after the others had gone he told me the saw had come
alive, turned on him. He had seen his leg being cut off, had seen it falling
and had thought it was beautiful that way. The saw was turning in his hands
when he switched it off and dropped it.
I should have had more faith in their ability to protect themselves.
I don't believe it was his leg.
* * * *
Howard has forgotten about them, pretends he never believed in them in the
first place. He never glances at the tree, and he burned all the pictures he
took, even the infrared ones.
I have too much to do to work outside the house any more. He accepts
that. I am charting all their likes and dislikes. When I left them chopped
turnip, there was a grease fire that could have burned down the house. I
crossed off turnips. When I find out-of-season fruits, like mangoes, cut up
just so with a touch of lemon juice, something nice happens, like the telegram
from my mother on my birthday. They like for me to wear soft, flowing, white
gowns. My blue jeans brought a thunderstorm, and lightning hit the pole out
front and we were without electricity for twenty-four hours.
There is a ritual I go through now when Howard wants to go to bed with
me. He doesn't object. It excites him, actually, to see me undress under the
tree.
They liked the mouse I caught for them, and I'm wondering if they would
like a chick, or a game hen. The mouse got Howard a Christmas bonus. I know a
place that sells live chicks ....
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