The Riddle of the sphinx
Fiction
Published in TOYON 2011
The homeless man was a welcome distraction. At first, he was a mound of stained rags on a mattress, then a matador flailing an invisible cape, then a leaping clown. While this display went on out outside, Jeremy’s teacher, Ms. Lewis was telling the class about ancient hunters and gatherers, her voice a droning hum of banal words like function and shelter. If it wasn’t for the homeless man yelling at the bridge or the cement walls, Jeremy’s face would have been resting on the cool desk, sleeping.
Just before recess, as Jeremy stared, the homeless man had begun to punch himself in the face. Jeremy’s fingers went cold. His stomach beginning to tighten, he raised his hand and said, “Ms. Lewis, there’s a scary man in the canyon outside.”
The children gasped and craned their necks to see. “Class!” Ms. Lewis said, pulling at her teal sweater. “Everyone!” She clapped twice. “Pay attention! Jeremy, that is not a canyon; it’s a storm wash. You know how the storms come every year? Without the wash, we’d all drown. But, yes,” her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window. Her speech slowed: “Who-who is that man?” Jeremy sensed uneasiness in her tone. The bell rang. Ms. Lewis looked back at the class, her face still concerned. “Okay everyone! Let’s get ready for morning recess.” The room erupted with the juvenile sounds of chairs screeching, backpacks rustling, and books being slammed shut. She continued, speaking over the noise, “Nicole has the gold star today, so she gets to be at the front of the line. Remember, when you cross the bridge, hold someone’s hand.”
Jeremy stood up, pulled on his coat, and fell into line somewhere at the back.
Later that night, Jeremy was watching an old episode of The Family Feud. His mother was finishing dinner, the aroma of melted cheese and warm starch haunting every corner of the house. His father sat beside him reading the newspaper.
“Daddy,” Jeremy said.
“Yeah, Jer?” his father said, not turning away from his reading.
“There’s a crazy man that lives in the canyon next to my class.”
His father folded down the paper. “Excuse me?” He said.
“A man lives in the creek next to class. He’s scary.”
“Son,” his father said, putting the paper down and taking off his glasses. He fixed Jeremy with a firm gaze. “I’m sure Ms. Lewis is taking care of it. If something was really wrong, they’d have called the police. Maybe it’s just a homeless man. And if that’s the case, he’s not crazy. He’s less fortunate than you and I. You should be thankful you get to sit in a heated classroom and can get an education and have a mommy who cooks you your favorite meals. Maybe that man didn’t have kickball or a caring mommy or lots of friends like you do.”
“I don’t have lots of friends,” Jeremy said, looking down.
“What about Mike and Sahid?”
“They’re my friends, but sometimes they don’t like to play with me. They say I daydream too much and don’t pay attention when we play sports.”
“We’ll work on that that later this weekend.” His father smiled and patted him on the head. “Oh, and you should feel bad for him, that homeless. Now, just forget about it.” He brought the newspaper back up between them and said, “And just to let you know, that’s not a hole or a creek. It’s a storm wash. It’s like a giant drain. It takes all the water away so the town doesn’t flood.”
“Dinner!” his mother yelled from the kitchen.
The next morning, Sahid’s voice flew through the sky: “Jeremy, wake up!”
Jeremy, was thinking about the homeless man, what his life was like. Did he have cousins? A dog? Underwear with his name written on the waistband? Birthday presents? The questions evaporated. A kickball smacked him square in the face, sending a flash of pressure up his nasal passage.
“Jeremy!” Sahid, yelled. “Wake up. Diane made it home. The other team just got a point! You always do this.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, throwing back the red ball.
Mike, who was playing first base, ran up to Sahid and whispered something. They both turned to Jeremy. Sahid said, “You can’t play with us anymore.”
Jeremy knew he should react with a punch or a laugh, but his panic over the homeless man in the wash was too strong. He walked off the field. The other kids didn’t laugh. They just stared at him.
He crossed the park, his steps finding their way to the thicker, darker grass beneath the older, larger trees. He stopped and leaned against the chain link fence that separated the wash from the park. To his immediate left was the bridge that led back to school. The homeless man was barely a hundred feet away kicking at nothing.
He turned around, leaning into the chain link, feeling it slightly curve to his weight. A few feet away, Nicole and Jessica were sitting cross-legged next to each other.
“What are you digging for?” He asked.
“Earthworms,” Nicole said, not looking up. “We’re making an earthworm family.”
Jeremy asked, “Doesn’t that homeless man scare you?”
“No, Ms. Lewis said we shouldn’t worry about it,” Jessica said. “Ew, look at this one!” She squealed, holding up a severed worm. She brushed back her hair with a dirty hand.
“Cool!” Nicole said.
“That man is scary,” Jeremy said.
“He’s not scary,” Nicole said. “You’re always scared. Remember when you cried because someone put that moth on your arm in first grade?”
“I remember that!” Jessica laughed.
Ms. Lewis’ voice echoed across the canyon: “Recess over!”
The next day, just before morning recess, Ms. Lewis was telling the students about Egypt’s great pyramids: “It took thousands of slaves over twenty years to complete just one. Each was for a pharaoh, which is like a king. When a pharaoh died, they would wrap him in bandages, put him in a giant gold coffin, and surround him with all the things he loved—gold, jewels, food, oils—all kinds of things.”
For the first time that morning, Jeremy casually looked out the window to see if the homeless man was still there. His heart stopped as he realized the homeless man was no longer at a real distance, but instead just on the other side of the window, making solid, fully engaged eye contact, a calm monster eating him from the inside of his mind.
Jeremy looked away fast. He turned to look again. Still there, still a statue.
“Jeremy,” Ms. Lewis interrupted his panic. “Please tell me you are not looking at that homeless man again. We’re all getting a little sick of this. Are you looking again? ”
Jeremy looked at Ms. Lewis. He felt the pause before his answer vibrate up his back. “No, Ms. Lewis,” he finally said.
“Good. Now, answer the riddle.”
“What riddle?” Jeremy asked, his hands sweating.
“See, you weren’t paying attention. I knew it.” She sighed. “The riddle of sphinx, dear. What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs in the afternoon, and on three legs in the evening?”
Jeremy knew the answer. “A person!” He essentially coughed out, his mouth dry, his eyes trying not to look outside. “Man. Um, Man walks on four legs in the morning, on two legs in the afternoon, and on three legs in the evening. He crawls as a baby, walks on two legs as a grown up and a cane when he’s old.”
“Very good, Jeremy!” Mrs. Lewis said. “Now, if you promise not to look out that window any more today, you can have the gold star. Do we have a deal?”
Jeremy nodded blankly. This was a lie. He had to look just once more. He had to be stealth. Ms. Lewis turned to the blackboard and wrote his name, drawing a star next to it. This was his chance. His eyes darted quickly to the left, landing on nothing.
The homeless man was gone.
“Wonderful,” Ms. Lewis said turning back around. “Now,” she continued. “Legend says that when a hero answers the sphinx’s riddle she destroys herself, letting the hero pass.”
Forty-five minutes later, the bell rang. “Okay everyone,” Ms. Lewis said. “Let’s get ready for morning recess. Jeremy has the gold star today, so he gets to be at the front of the line. Remember to hold someone’s hand when you cross the bridge.”
Jeremy pulled his coat on and scrambled to the front of the line.
“Calm down,” Nicole said. “It’s just the front of the line.” She filed in behind him.
With Ms. Lewis bringing up the rear, they marched down the hall and out the back door, stomping across the driveway to the path along the chain link fence.
“Okay, here comes the bridge!” Ms. Lewis yelled from the back of the line. “Everyone hold hands!”
Jeremy reached for Nicole’s hand and stole a quick glimpse ahead at the bridge. It took only a second to register what he saw.
The homeless man was hanging by his neck from the bridge. His neck, constricted by thin twine, was puffy and purple—his eyes bulging and uneven.
Jeremy halted, causing some of the other students to trip.
“Jeremy!” Ms, Lewis said.
From a distant, broken place, Jeremy heard her voice as she came to the front of the line.
She continued, “Why did you stop? It’s dangerous to stop like that abruptly in a parking lot. You could have hurt—” He instantly recognized the blanket of panic flung over everything as she halted mid-sentence, her breath disappearing, her brow beginning to moisten. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Everyone! Children! Turn around and go back. Quickly, everyone. Go! Run!”
A hand went over his eyes. As he began to run, he heard Nicole scream.
Published in TOYON 2011
The homeless man was a welcome distraction. At first, he was a mound of stained rags on a mattress, then a matador flailing an invisible cape, then a leaping clown. While this display went on out outside, Jeremy’s teacher, Ms. Lewis was telling the class about ancient hunters and gatherers, her voice a droning hum of banal words like function and shelter. If it wasn’t for the homeless man yelling at the bridge or the cement walls, Jeremy’s face would have been resting on the cool desk, sleeping.
Just before recess, as Jeremy stared, the homeless man had begun to punch himself in the face. Jeremy’s fingers went cold. His stomach beginning to tighten, he raised his hand and said, “Ms. Lewis, there’s a scary man in the canyon outside.”
The children gasped and craned their necks to see. “Class!” Ms. Lewis said, pulling at her teal sweater. “Everyone!” She clapped twice. “Pay attention! Jeremy, that is not a canyon; it’s a storm wash. You know how the storms come every year? Without the wash, we’d all drown. But, yes,” her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window. Her speech slowed: “Who-who is that man?” Jeremy sensed uneasiness in her tone. The bell rang. Ms. Lewis looked back at the class, her face still concerned. “Okay everyone! Let’s get ready for morning recess.” The room erupted with the juvenile sounds of chairs screeching, backpacks rustling, and books being slammed shut. She continued, speaking over the noise, “Nicole has the gold star today, so she gets to be at the front of the line. Remember, when you cross the bridge, hold someone’s hand.”
Jeremy stood up, pulled on his coat, and fell into line somewhere at the back.
Later that night, Jeremy was watching an old episode of The Family Feud. His mother was finishing dinner, the aroma of melted cheese and warm starch haunting every corner of the house. His father sat beside him reading the newspaper.
“Daddy,” Jeremy said.
“Yeah, Jer?” his father said, not turning away from his reading.
“There’s a crazy man that lives in the canyon next to my class.”
His father folded down the paper. “Excuse me?” He said.
“A man lives in the creek next to class. He’s scary.”
“Son,” his father said, putting the paper down and taking off his glasses. He fixed Jeremy with a firm gaze. “I’m sure Ms. Lewis is taking care of it. If something was really wrong, they’d have called the police. Maybe it’s just a homeless man. And if that’s the case, he’s not crazy. He’s less fortunate than you and I. You should be thankful you get to sit in a heated classroom and can get an education and have a mommy who cooks you your favorite meals. Maybe that man didn’t have kickball or a caring mommy or lots of friends like you do.”
“I don’t have lots of friends,” Jeremy said, looking down.
“What about Mike and Sahid?”
“They’re my friends, but sometimes they don’t like to play with me. They say I daydream too much and don’t pay attention when we play sports.”
“We’ll work on that that later this weekend.” His father smiled and patted him on the head. “Oh, and you should feel bad for him, that homeless. Now, just forget about it.” He brought the newspaper back up between them and said, “And just to let you know, that’s not a hole or a creek. It’s a storm wash. It’s like a giant drain. It takes all the water away so the town doesn’t flood.”
“Dinner!” his mother yelled from the kitchen.
The next morning, Sahid’s voice flew through the sky: “Jeremy, wake up!”
Jeremy, was thinking about the homeless man, what his life was like. Did he have cousins? A dog? Underwear with his name written on the waistband? Birthday presents? The questions evaporated. A kickball smacked him square in the face, sending a flash of pressure up his nasal passage.
“Jeremy!” Sahid, yelled. “Wake up. Diane made it home. The other team just got a point! You always do this.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, throwing back the red ball.
Mike, who was playing first base, ran up to Sahid and whispered something. They both turned to Jeremy. Sahid said, “You can’t play with us anymore.”
Jeremy knew he should react with a punch or a laugh, but his panic over the homeless man in the wash was too strong. He walked off the field. The other kids didn’t laugh. They just stared at him.
He crossed the park, his steps finding their way to the thicker, darker grass beneath the older, larger trees. He stopped and leaned against the chain link fence that separated the wash from the park. To his immediate left was the bridge that led back to school. The homeless man was barely a hundred feet away kicking at nothing.
He turned around, leaning into the chain link, feeling it slightly curve to his weight. A few feet away, Nicole and Jessica were sitting cross-legged next to each other.
“What are you digging for?” He asked.
“Earthworms,” Nicole said, not looking up. “We’re making an earthworm family.”
Jeremy asked, “Doesn’t that homeless man scare you?”
“No, Ms. Lewis said we shouldn’t worry about it,” Jessica said. “Ew, look at this one!” She squealed, holding up a severed worm. She brushed back her hair with a dirty hand.
“Cool!” Nicole said.
“That man is scary,” Jeremy said.
“He’s not scary,” Nicole said. “You’re always scared. Remember when you cried because someone put that moth on your arm in first grade?”
“I remember that!” Jessica laughed.
Ms. Lewis’ voice echoed across the canyon: “Recess over!”
The next day, just before morning recess, Ms. Lewis was telling the students about Egypt’s great pyramids: “It took thousands of slaves over twenty years to complete just one. Each was for a pharaoh, which is like a king. When a pharaoh died, they would wrap him in bandages, put him in a giant gold coffin, and surround him with all the things he loved—gold, jewels, food, oils—all kinds of things.”
For the first time that morning, Jeremy casually looked out the window to see if the homeless man was still there. His heart stopped as he realized the homeless man was no longer at a real distance, but instead just on the other side of the window, making solid, fully engaged eye contact, a calm monster eating him from the inside of his mind.
Jeremy looked away fast. He turned to look again. Still there, still a statue.
“Jeremy,” Ms. Lewis interrupted his panic. “Please tell me you are not looking at that homeless man again. We’re all getting a little sick of this. Are you looking again? ”
Jeremy looked at Ms. Lewis. He felt the pause before his answer vibrate up his back. “No, Ms. Lewis,” he finally said.
“Good. Now, answer the riddle.”
“What riddle?” Jeremy asked, his hands sweating.
“See, you weren’t paying attention. I knew it.” She sighed. “The riddle of sphinx, dear. What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs in the afternoon, and on three legs in the evening?”
Jeremy knew the answer. “A person!” He essentially coughed out, his mouth dry, his eyes trying not to look outside. “Man. Um, Man walks on four legs in the morning, on two legs in the afternoon, and on three legs in the evening. He crawls as a baby, walks on two legs as a grown up and a cane when he’s old.”
“Very good, Jeremy!” Mrs. Lewis said. “Now, if you promise not to look out that window any more today, you can have the gold star. Do we have a deal?”
Jeremy nodded blankly. This was a lie. He had to look just once more. He had to be stealth. Ms. Lewis turned to the blackboard and wrote his name, drawing a star next to it. This was his chance. His eyes darted quickly to the left, landing on nothing.
The homeless man was gone.
“Wonderful,” Ms. Lewis said turning back around. “Now,” she continued. “Legend says that when a hero answers the sphinx’s riddle she destroys herself, letting the hero pass.”
Forty-five minutes later, the bell rang. “Okay everyone,” Ms. Lewis said. “Let’s get ready for morning recess. Jeremy has the gold star today, so he gets to be at the front of the line. Remember to hold someone’s hand when you cross the bridge.”
Jeremy pulled his coat on and scrambled to the front of the line.
“Calm down,” Nicole said. “It’s just the front of the line.” She filed in behind him.
With Ms. Lewis bringing up the rear, they marched down the hall and out the back door, stomping across the driveway to the path along the chain link fence.
“Okay, here comes the bridge!” Ms. Lewis yelled from the back of the line. “Everyone hold hands!”
Jeremy reached for Nicole’s hand and stole a quick glimpse ahead at the bridge. It took only a second to register what he saw.
The homeless man was hanging by his neck from the bridge. His neck, constricted by thin twine, was puffy and purple—his eyes bulging and uneven.
Jeremy halted, causing some of the other students to trip.
“Jeremy!” Ms, Lewis said.
From a distant, broken place, Jeremy heard her voice as she came to the front of the line.
She continued, “Why did you stop? It’s dangerous to stop like that abruptly in a parking lot. You could have hurt—” He instantly recognized the blanket of panic flung over everything as she halted mid-sentence, her breath disappearing, her brow beginning to moisten. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Everyone! Children! Turn around and go back. Quickly, everyone. Go! Run!”
A hand went over his eyes. As he began to run, he heard Nicole scream.
