twenty-five years. I could still get to him. I regretted it 21
every time. But all Clarance had to do was be himself and 22
he made me mad. He’d always done better than I had. He 23
held a good job as the daytime dispatcher for a colored 24
cab company. He was married, but he still had more girl-25
friends than I did. He read the newspaper every day and 26
was always referring to events in the world to prove a S 27
R 28
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point when we were discussing politics or current affairs.
2
Even though I had made it through three years of college, 3
Clarance always seemed to know more.
4
For a while there I had a subscription to the New York 5
Times just so I could compete. But I never actually read 6
the paper. Sometimes I’d try to do the crossword puzzle, 7
but that just made me feel stupid. Finally, after losing my 8
job at the bank, I let the subscription go.
9
I did some things better than Clarance. I was good at 10
sports. But he wouldn’t compete with me there. He said I 11
was better than him but I couldn’t get a scholarship or 12
anything. And he was right. Like my uncle Brent was al-13
ways happy to say, “He could win the race, but he cain’t 14
beat the clock.”
15
So I tortured Clarance now and then, angry at him for 16
proving my inadequacies.
17
18
19
There were certain benefits to an early evening. The first 20
thing was that there was more than half the fifth of 21
whisky left over. I loved to drink. Loved it. But I didn’t 22
abuse alcohol. I never drank before the sun went down 23
and never drove while under the influence. Every once in 24
a while I’d make Ricky and Clarance sleep over when they 25
got too tipsy on a Thursday night.
26
You’d think I’d want to spend the evening with my 27 S
friends. As it was I spent almost every night alone, listening 28 R
to the radio or reading science fiction. I never got into the 12
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The Man in My Basement
TV habit. I’d watch the news now and then, but that was 1
mainly to keep up with Clarance. Most nights I spent alone, 2
except when I had a girlfriend. But the last girlfriend I had 3
was Laura Wright. That had ended some months before.
4
It was mostly just me in the big house. The rooms were 5
large, with big bay windows everywhere. When I was 6
alone I’d wander around in my underwear, talking to my-7
self or reading about outer space. Those were the best mo-8
ments I had. With the evening spread out in front of me, 9
maybe with some music playing and a few shots of bour-10
bon, I had all the time I needed to think.
11
I couldn’t think when I was around people. In company 12
I was always talking, always telling a joke or laughing at 13
one. My uncle Brent used to say that my mouth was my 14
biggest problem. “Boy,” he’d say while sitting in the re-15
clining chair in the den, “if you could just learn to be quiet 16
for a minute, you might hear something worthwhile.”
17
My mother said that I was supposed to love Uncle 18
Brent, but he was hard on children. Brent came to live 19
with us after he had what my mother called a case of nerves.
20
There wasn’t much wrong with him that I could see, but 21
after his attack he came to live in our house. He kept the 22
garden in the spring and summer and sat in the old chair 23
in what used to be my father’s library. But my father was 24
dead by then and Uncle Brent called the library his den.
25
Brent loved to tell me what was wrong with me. I 26
talked too much, I didn’t study enough, I didn’t respect S 27
authority, and I was way too dark for the genteel colored R 28
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community of Forest Cove. That was down in South Car-2
olina, where Brent was born. Brent himself was a deep-3
brown color, with thick lips that were always turned 4
down as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. The only hint 5
he gave of being sick was that it took him a long time to 6
get out of his chair.
7
So when my mother was out and he’d let loose with one 8
of his insults, I’d say, “Fuck you, old man,” and walk 9
slowly away while he struggled to get up and after me.
10
Once outside I’d tear through the backyard and into the 11
family graveyard. From there I’d make it into the ancient 12
stand of sixty-two oaks that my great-great-grandfather 13
Willam P. Dodd planted.
14
That night in my house, wandering completely naked 15
through the half-dark rooms, I thought about how much 16
fun it was to torture my mean old uncle. When I’d es-17
caped into the dark-green shadows of those gnarly old 18
trees, I’d get the giggles from excitement. Sometimes Brent 19
would stand out on the back porch and yell for me, but 20
he didn’t dare to wander off from the house.
21
He never told my mother about my curses though. I 22
think it was because he was ashamed at not being able to 23
control a child.
24
The night after the day I met Mr. Anniston Bennet was 25
the first time I’d ever missed Uncle Brent. It had been 26
more than a decade, and I just then marked his passing.
27 S
28 R
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2
3
4
3
5
6
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13
I still sleep in my childhood room — in the same bed.
C 14
The window faces east and the sun streams through 15
every morning, my natural alarm. That Friday I woke up 16
with a headache and a hard-on. I’d been dreaming about 17
Laura, about how she was so excited when I’d carry her 18
up the stairs.
19
I had to go to the toilet, but I was dizzy. I wanted to jerk 20
off, but my head hurt too much for that. I made myself get 21
up and walk down the second-floor hall to the toilet. It 22
was difficult keeping it in the bowl because the erection 23
was persistent. Even when I finished, it stayed hard.
24
I went back to bed with the intention of masturbating, 25
but my headache just got worse, and the thought of 26
Laura, as exciting as it was, also made me nauseous.
S 27
Finally I got dressed and went downstairs to the R 28
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kitchen. I wanted coffee, but the percolator was dirty and 2
the sink was full of greasy dishes. There were also dirty 3
dishes piled on the table and sink. I looked at the mess for 4
a while and decided that it was too much for me to do be-5
fore I had my morning coffee. And so I got my Dodge 6
from the garage and drove down to the Corners for coffee 7
and crumb cake at Hannah and Company.
8
9
10
“Morning, Mr. Blakey,” Tina Gramble said. She was Han-11