“He’s gone. They got him. You won’t see that jerkoff again.”

“Who’s they?”

He tried to stand up but couldn’t. He fell back down and started cursing. I reached to help him but he swatted my hand away. “Take off! Get out, will you just go!” And suddenly he began to cry.

I knew where those tears came from. That very deep and secret address: seventeen-year-old McCabe Street. The place no one had ever been allowed to go or see or even know about. The place locked tight away behind walls of cruelty, bluff, and resentment. Where love too fragile or deformed lived, as well as an overbearing fear that everything you ever dreamed of doing would either stink or embarrass you or fail miserably.

I hesitated only an instant before pulling him up and onto my shoulder in a fireman’s heave. He was so light. It almost made me laugh how light he was. He screamed at me to put him down, but that’s not what he wanted. Not really. Besides, I was already moving toward the house and there was little he could do in that helpless position.

Walking seemed easier with him over my shoulder. I thought about that later and gargled on the symbolism—whenever you’re willing to carry your self... that kind of baloney.

“Put me down!”

“Shut up and row.”

“What?”

“How do you row a boat on a wooden sea?”

“Have you flipped out?”

“No. That’s what Antonya asked me back in the car.”

“Really? She asked that?”

Our words were broken up by my chugging along—Really? She-asked-that?

“Yes, right before you came. Was that really Antonya?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, probably. Or maybe it was one of them. I’m not sure.”

I stopped. I could feel his body heat against my cheek. “Who’s them? Just tell me that. Who’s them?”

“Aliens.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I second that emotion, brother.” 

“Gee-Gee, would you like some more bacon?”

“Oh yes, ma’am, that would be great. It’s delicious.”

“Ma’am sounds like a cowboy movie. Call me Magda. We’re practically related. Frannie, I cannot get over how alike you two look. He really could be your son. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth about who he belongs to?” My wife gave me a shame-on-you smile while spearing three more fat slices of Canadian bacon onto Gee-Gee’s plate. She handed it back. He immediately shoved a whole piece in his mouth and like a dog, barely chewed before swallowing it. That made seven pieces of bacon he had eaten in two breakfasts over the course of two hours. Was he a black hole? Where did all of the food go? Did he have several stomachs like a cow? Or cheek pouches like a chipmunk where he stored it for the winter? Had I really eaten that much when I was his age?

Magda and Pauline couldn’t take their eyes off him, for different reasons obviously. Magda was totally delighted to have this mysterious husband-lookalike sitting at her breakfast table. In contrast, Pauline appeared sexually stunned, or like she had been hit on the head with a wooden mallet. Same difference. Outside our house, aliens waited to devour us, but inside it was full breakfast ahead. I didn’t understand how Gee-Gee could suddenly be so calm about it.

The women were sitting in the living room waiting for us when we came in. I had a million questions to ask him but wasn’t about to discuss little green men or dead Antonya with these two innocents around. They had cooked breakfast together, a real rarity in our house and a sign of the specialness of the occasion. The only thing I could do was sit with a piled plate in front of me, trying to make eye contact with Gee-Gee to see if he’d communicate anything. The one time I caught his eye, he smiled and did a small cha-cha with his head. I assumed that meant I was to stay cool and wait for the right moment to talk. But he was the one who’d started the scare thing outside. Now he had my fearometer in the red zone (a new experience for me) while he enthusiastically wolfed down bacon and blueberry pancakes.

“Frannie, how come you never told me about Gee-Gee?” Magda looked beautiful that morning although she is not a beautiful woman. And so did Pauline. They were two great-looking women and I was lucky to be living in the same house with them. The house which at that very moment might have been surrounded by space invaders, according to Bacon Face across the table from me.

I looked at her and tried to think up a believable lie. “Because his parents are jerks and I wanted nothing to do with them. I never even really knew about him till recently. Hey, Gee-Gee, remember those visitors you talked about before?”

He didn’t even look up from his plate. “Yeah?”

“Are they coming over here or not?”

“Dunno. Could I have some more syrup please?”

Magda prodded. “What visitors? Should we be making some more pancakes?”

Gee-Gee waved his fork around. “Some guys I know from out of town.”

“Out of town?” I sputtered.

“Are they friends of yours?” Pauline’s voice was jumping out of her throat—more Gee-Gees were coming to our house this morning? Yeah, baby!

“They’re more just guys than friends, know what I mean?” Magda looked at Pauline and simultaneously the two grew exactly the same smile—Boys Ahoy!

I was so frustrated by whatever stall tactic he was up to that I couldn’t sit still any longer. For want of anything better to do I stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. Looking out the window there I was glad to see only the old rusty swing set and not ET. No flying saucers had landed in our backyard. Turning on the tap I watched silvery water rush into the sink and down the drain. When it had run a long time Magda asked what I was doing.

“Counting molecules.” I didn’t look up. I felt like I was going to pop.

“Frannie—”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mag. Don’t worry about me.”

Gee-Gee said, “Look out the window, Uncle Frannie.”

“I just did.”

“Look harder. Look really carefully at the backyard.”

I ignored him and kept looking at the water. I turned it off. Then on. Then off again.

Pauline piped up, “Are your friends here, Gee-Gee? Are they in the backyard?”

“Naah. There’s just something out there I want Uncle Fran to see.”

A chair scraped the floor. A moment later Pauline stood next to me. Putting a hand on my shoulder, she rested her chin on it. This girl was not a big displayer of affection. I assumed her cuddle was for Gee-Gee’s benefit. I didn’t care—it was nice having her there. I tipped my head till it leaned on hers. “You smell good.”

“I do?”

“Yup. You smell like cloves and burning leaves.”

“Wow, that’s a cool description, Uncle Frannie. Cloves and burning leaves. I like that a lot.”

I turned toward Gee-Gee. Surprisingly he was watching me with real admiration.

“I swear to God—I never heard anyone described like that.”

“Well, kid, when you’re older I’m sure you’ll think up clever things like that to say too.”

He grinned while a small continent of yellow and spotted blue pancake dropped off his fork.

Pauline pinched my side. “That was mean. He was only paying you a compliment.”

“You’re right. Put your head back on my shoulder—it feels good.”

After she did I turned back to the window to see if there was anything in the yard that I’d missed.

“The swings are gone.”

“What swings?” Pauline said dreamily.

“Keep watchin’, Unc.”

As I said, our house once belonged to the family of my boyhood friend Samuel Bayer. In the corner of their yard a kid’s swing set sat dying all through our childhood. The people I bought the house from had had the swings removed. But because the world outside this morning was the 1960s, the backyard view had included the rusted, brown, sad-looking flying machine that had sent any number of kids into almost-orbit for a few happy years. The view had included those swings. I knew because when I looked at the yard minutes before, I saw them and instantly remembered. Now they were gone.