The Giant Factory by Drew Piston

Marcy says I’ve already made her smile, but I can tell she’s lying.

I don’t mean she’s lying in a bad way. There’s more than one way to lie, good ways and bad ways.

Sure, I’ve made her mouth go up and down in the right places. But it’s like she stuck a banana in front of her face, or one of those sandwich crusts I can never seem to finish. Just because you go around with a banana glued to your mouth doesn’t mean you’re smiling all the time. A real smile is in the eyes.

Even if people are wearing a scarf, you can tell if they smile by watching their eyes. They sort of scrunch up because there’s a dancer inside, or one of those disco balls. They gleam.

I’m not good at a lot of things, but I can sure tell when someone is really smiling, and when they’re just faking it.

And I’ll get Marcy to smile. You’ll see.

* * *

Marcy works at the public library two blocks away from the office where I work, doing really important stuff. Jean hired me to work there because I was the most qualified of the applicants, she told me. It doesn’t even have to do with how she knew my sister. Usually I get to do deliveries between offices and sometimes even between buildings if they are close enough. I still haven’t gotten my driver’s license, so I can’t go very far, but I’ll probably get it pretty soon. I just haven’t gotten around to it.

All in all I’m a pretty handy guy to have around, though. I can change the light bulbs, and refill the copier, and I even make sure to check the buttons in the elevator once a day to make sure they are working. Can you imagine if you couldn’t get back up to the 15^th floor? Everyone would have to go home after lunch.

Anyway, on my lunch I usually go down to feed the pigeons in the square. You can get birdseed for about fifty cents and sing songs from Mary Poppins for free.

It’s nice to eat with somebody, even if it’s just a bunch of birds.

Anyway, one day I forgot my fifty cents and wasn’t all that hungry, so I decided to go the library and read children’s books. That was when I first saw Marcy. She was sort of short, and had a really big head. An orange on a toothpick, my sister would have said. An orange on a toothpick.

But my god she was pretty. She looked so sad, I couldn’t help but stare. I think she said something, cause I was just standing there in front of the desk, but I didn’t hear a single word. I just turned around and found Harold and the Purple Crayon. I didn’t understand a single word of that, either.

Jean let me go home early that day, so I went down to the drugstore and bought a bunch of crayons. I threw them all away except for the purple one, and tried to draw Marcy. It didn’t work so well so I tried to draw an orange on a toothpick, but it’s hard with just a purple crayon. My sister would have liked it, though.

The next day I went straight to the library at lunch and looked for her. She was shelving books in the fiction section.

“Hey,” I said. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, but didn’t smile of course.

“I’m Pete,” I said, and zipped and unzipped my jacket, just the very end.

“Hi Pete.” Her mouth didn’t even make the banana thing. “I’m Marcy.”

I kept zipping and unzipping the very bottom of my jacket, but added a little soft shoe thing. This helps me talk better.

She cocked her head a little to one side and asked, “Can I help you with something?”

I shook my head, but it must have been a little too hard, because I couldn’t see her at either end of the shake.

I felt the giant grin on my face, and stopped shaking. “I’m going to make you smile,” I said. “You’ll see.”

This time she did the banana thing, but her eyes remained dead. “You just did,” she said.

“No,” I said. “No. I’m going to make you smile.”

* * *

That was a while ago now, and I’m still working on it. I tell her every time I see her, I say “I’m going to make you smile today, Marcy.” And she does that banana thing, and she says, “You already have, Pete,” and I just shake my head and keep zipping and unzipping. Today’s going to be different, though. I’ve got a good joke, a new one, one she’s never heard before.

At lunch time I go to over to the public library and start looking for Marcy. It’s a big library, so I’ve got to have a plan. I start with the 1’s in non-fiction and weave my way through the shelves. After I finish with those I head over to the A’s in Adult Fiction and work my way through. That’s usually where she is, somewhere shelving in the Adult Fiction. If I see her through the shelves, though, I can’t just go over. That would be cheating. I’ve got to stick to the pattern, stick to the weave, until it leads right to her.

Today she’s over in the Young Adult section, so I have to go all the way through Z before I even catch a glimpse of her.

“Hey, Marcy,” I say, when I catch up to her. “Hey.”

“Hi, Pete,” she says, without looking up.

“Hey Marcy,” I say, “did you hear the one about the guy who walked into a bar?”

My zipper’s going up and down and the soft shoe has a mind of its own. My sister said I should be in Riverdance.

“He said ‘ouch,’” I say, and my zipper stops for a second, but she doesn’t smile.

“Pete, you told me that one last week.” She’s shelving big books, green books, skinny books.

“I know,” I say. “I know. I had a new one but I forgot.”

The softshoe gives one more step and then stops. I give a little bow, and then focus on the zipper.

About this time John walks over. He’s got a bunch of flowers. I’ve never gotten him to smile, either, but I don’t really care.

“Hey, John,” I say. “Hey, John.”

He doesn’t look too happy to see me, but he never looks too happy. “How’s it going, Petey,” he says, but he’s looking at Marcy. He hands her the flowers and she turns up to look at him. He’s a big guy. I watch her face closely, and I can tell she only gives him the banana.

I lean over her shoulder to read the note. It says: For My Marcy—Love, Jon.

“No ‘h,’ Jon,” I tell him. “No ‘h.’”

He glares over at me but doesn’t say anything.

“What’s that Pete?” asks Marcy, looking at me.

“There’s no ‘h,’” I say again. “It’s J-O-N. I just thought the ‘h’ was silent.” I pause the zipping for a second. “JAW-” I say, and then mouth the ‘h,’ silently, and then finish, “-NNN.”

“Did you hear the ‘h,’ Jon?” I ask him.

“Yeah, sure, Petey,” says Jon.

“No,” I say. “No you didn’t. It’s silent.” I say it slowly again, mouthing the ‘h’ and making sure he pays attention.

“Hey, why don’t you scram, Petey?” He looks angry now, but for some reason it just seems funny.

“Scram,” I say, laughing. “Scram.” The zipper has stopped but I’m almost curled up I’m laughing so hard. Hard but silent, just like the ‘h.’

Jon sort of gives me this little shove and I fall to the carpet, still laughing.

Marcy looks up at him and puts her hands on his chest and says “Don’t.” I’m still on the floor laughing.

When I finally stop and look up he’s gone, and Marcy is shelving books again. Big and green and skinny ones.

The next day she’s in the nonfiction section, so I catch up to her right away.

“Hey, Marcy,” I say. “Hey, did you hear the one about the guy who walks into the bar?”

All of a sudden she’s stopped shelving and is looking right at me. “Pete,” she asks, “what are you doing?” She puts her hand on my arm, which makes me stop zipping.

“I’m going to make you smile,” I say, but I can tell that’s not the right answer.

“No, Pete, that’s not what I meant,” she says.

I decide this is one of those deep questions you hear about, like when people ask why we are here. So I tell her about the Giant Factory.

The Giant Factory is this great idea I have. What it is is that you write in to the Giant Factory and you tell them what you want. You can have anything. But the thing is that the Giant Factory doesn’t make a normal one, it makes a giant one. So maybe you really like coffee, and you write in to the Giant Factory, and you get a giant coffee cup, the size of a garbage can. Or maybe you want a piano, one you can play by jumping around on the keys. We make that, too.

People are going to love the Giant Factory. It’s going to be better than sliced bread. They’re going to buy stuff all the time, they’re going to ruin their lives because they’ve bought too much giant stuff. I’m not going to feel bad, though, I’m going to give them jobs at the Giant Factory.

I’m getting pretty excited telling Marcy about the Giant Factory, and I almost forget to look to see if she’s smiling. She’s not, though. For some reason she looks even sadder.

“Do me a favor, Pete,” she says.

“Sure,” I say. “Sure.”

“Don’t come around here tomorrow,” she says. “You can come back on Monday but don’t come by tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I say. “Sure.”

On the way back to the office I am suddenly hungry, and I stop and buy a hot dog. I ask the man selling hot dogs if he’s heard the one about the guy who walks into a bar, but he tells me he’s heard them all. My mouth gets burned on the hot dog.

The next day I go back to visit the pigeons. It’s my first visit in a while. I can’t tell if they remember me or if they just remember bird food.

One of the pigeons, a big one, is chasing this other one, a small one. They are both so busy chasing and being chased that they don’t even eat anything. Whenever the big one catches up it pecks the other one on the back. The little one tries flying but the big one just takes off, too. They run and fly in circles for the entire time I’m there. After a while I’m out of birdseed and anyway my lunch hour is just about up.

Back at work I get an idea that just about knocks my hat off. Surprises. If there’s one thing to make people smile it’s surprises.

I’m so excited after work that I press all the buttons on the elevator, even though I’ve already tested them once today. Floor number nine is a little sticky, but it hasn’t failed me yet.

When I get to the library I just peek inside and catch a glimpse of Marcy’s black hair to make sure she hasn’t left, and then go sit outside by the gargoyles. I decide to be friends with the one next to me, who might be called Gerald.

“Hey Gerald,” I say. “Have I told you about the Giant Factory?”

“We can make a giant one of you,” I tell him. “A giant Gerald.”

Gerald is not impressed.

“It would probably have to be hollow,” I say. “Giant Gerald.”

Marcy must work the late shift. I’m cold and stiff and it’s dark by the time she walks down the big steps. I press up against Gerald’s shoulder and try to look all stony, but she doesn’t even glance in my direction.

When she’s walked about half a block I stand up and start to follow her. I guess I walk quicker than she does, cause I’m only about five feet behind her when she gets to the subway entrance, and I have to putter around at the top to keep from being too close.

I get on the same train but a door behind her, and somehow find a seat that faces in the right direction. I’m getting a little excited now, and my knees keep jumping around and somehow hitting the lady next to me.

“Sorry,” I say. “Sorry.”

After what seems like a long time I finally see Marcy’s dark hair get up and make for the subway doors. I rush out my door, but for a second I can’t see where she has gone. I jump up and down, trying to look over the crowds of people, and finally see her start up some stairs a little way off.

I run to the stairs and all the way up, and just barely see her turning a corner, even though it’s really dark out now. I’m all out of breath and my knees don’t feel right, but I run to the corner and I can see her again. She’s only about half a block in front of me, which is probably just about right.

Before long she turns into an apartment building, and I’m worried about how to get in to surprise her, but then I see a light go on to the side on the first floor. I walk into the alley, all casual and all, and sure enough I can see her through the window.

Even though I’m not talking to anyone I’m getting really excited, and I start the zipper thing going at a pretty good rate. I can see Marcy putting her bag down, and she bends down maybe to take off her shoes, and then goes out of view and comes back with a glass of water. I’m thinking about how surprised she’ll be to see me and how her eyes will light up and I start doing the soft shoe when she puts down her glass of water and takes her sweater off.

I’ve never seen a real woman with her shirt off before, and the soft shoe and zipper stop right away. She’s wearing a purple bra, and she looks so sad I can hardly stand it. Her skin is dark and her bra is purple and her head is big and it just makes me feel miserable, but I don’t want it to stop. I can never remember standing so still, and I must be concentrating pretty hard because I don’t even hear any footsteps behind me.

“What’re you doing, Petey,” says Jon. His voice is really quiet, and he doesn’t say it like it’s a question.

I’m facing him now, and I try to say something, but the zipper has come undone and I can’t get it to fit back together and I know I can’t say anything unless the zipper is going.

“You’re just a little fuck, aren’t you, Petey,” says Jon. “A little retarded fuck.”

I keep trying to get the zipper to start, and do a little half step of the soft shoe, and open and close my mouth a little bit.

Jon hits me in the stomach, between my arms, and I curl up just like when I was laughing in the library. I see his knee coming but it doesn’t really matter when I can’t get the zipper to work and it hits me right in the mouth.

On the ground, I finally get the zipper together and give a little laugh.

“Scram,” I say. “Silent ‘h’.”

Jon kicks me two times with his boot, and I can’t really tell what happens after that. All I think is that I can’t remember hurting this much from the inside of my body.

After a little while it occurs to me that Jon isn’t around any more, so I crawl around to the front of the apartment building. The steps look so big I don’t know if I can make it, but I drag myself up and inside the first door. By holding onto the door handle I pull myself up and try to focus on the doorbells. Whoever wrote them had really blurry handwriting, and I can barely make out “Marcy Hill.” I push the button, and hear the second door buzz open.

I sort of fall over when I get inside, and rest for a second. Then I crawl over to the door that I think is Marcy’s and give it a knock. I turn over on my back so I’ll be able to see her when she comes.

After a little bit the door opens and she sort of breathes sharply and bends over me.

“Pete,” she says, and her voice sounds funny, like it’s really far away. “What happened?”

She’s so pretty and so sad I can barely stand it. I want to cry and dance and sleep and laugh all at the same time.

“I walked into a bar,” I say, and even though I feel like I’m looking underwater I can see a tiny dancer in each of her eyes.

* * *

Jean said that she has to move to Boston so they won’t be able to use me at the office anymore. She seemed really upset about it, but I think it’ll turn out all right. I just hope I can find another place where they’ll take the most qualified applicant. Then I can start saving a little bit with the bonus Jean just gave me and maybe someday I can work up to starting the Giant Factory.

Anyway, they’re really nice here at the hospital, and the nurse at night, Helen, says I get her to laugh more than anyone else. I’ve told the doctors that I really feel fine. I might have to get glasses to see out of my left eye a little better, but I’m already walking around the room and going to bathroom by myself and everything. I think they’re talking about sending me to a different hospital somewhere, but I don’t know why I’d have to go to another hospital just for my eye.

Still, I guess I like hospitals all right. Everyone is really nice, and they seem to like me, but I get sort of bored being in the same room all day. It’s a little bit lonely, and I keep thinking about the pigeons. I hope they find somebody to eat lunch with them.

Marcy even came and visited, and I told her some more about the Giant Factory, and how I didn’t know her last name was Hill. She brought me some animal crackers and some books. We talked about the library, and I asked her if she was still shelving big and green and skinny books. She said yeah, and that it might not be a good idea for me to come visit anymore.

She looked sadder than ever, but I couldn’t get her to tell me why. I told her she shouldn’t worry too much. I know it’s going to be all right, cause I made her smile.

See?