Karen reached for her sake glass and she sat back in her chair, smiling, then she goes, That reminds me, and then she left the room and came back with a picture. Something I wanted to show you, she said, handing me a picture, sitting down again. It was a picture of Cam as a little boy. He was so young, with all this long white-blond hair; I don’t think he’d ever had it cut. His face was skinny, too, like a kid who’s just lost all his baby fat, and he was wearing this red and blue striped shirt, sitting on a cement floor, with all this junk around him, and something on his hands.
What’s on his hands? I asked, leaning in, trying to get a better look. Gloves, she said. He’s wearing gloves, and just then, Cam walked in, coming back from the bathroom, and he rolled his eyes. I could tell he knew the picture, because the way he nodded his head, like, let’s get this over with already. Karen reached for the sake bottle and poured herself another glass, then she goes, One year, just before he turned four, we bought Cam a bicycle for Christmas. Cam was so excited, he literally peed his pants, and Cam goes, Is this necessary? Karen waved him off: He loved it—he was over the moon, so happy with his new bike, she said, talking to me. And because he’d woken us up at five o’clock in the morning to open Christmas presents, by ten, we all took a nap. At least I thought we were all taking naps, but, turns out, when we woke up, we found him, sitting in the middle of the living room, with his new bicycle in pieces all over the floor.
I looked at Cam, and he knew I was looking at him, scratching his chopsticks across the pat of wasabi on his plate. It’s so funny when I see him like that, like I forget sometimes that there’s another side of him, the person he is with his mom, in private. A boy, a son. What happened? I asked, and Karen took another sip, and she goes, Well. I looked at his dad, and then his dad said, Cam, you did a great job taking that bike apart. Now you have to put it back together, and I didn’t think either of us took him seriously. But then the damndest thing happened: he did. Took him two days, but that’s exactly what he did: Cam put the bike back together. Soon after that, he discovered the vacuum cleaner, and the television, the DVD player, and my computer—. All right, Cam said, and we both smiled. Well, Karen said, pushing her chair out. Listen, you two, it’s getting late. Cam, you take Thea home, and I’ll clean up, she said, standing.
We got in the car, and he pulled out, and then, when we reached the end of the block, he goes, Thee, I want to show you something, and he turned left instead of right, heading back into town. We passed the high school, and at first, I had this crazy thought that he might want to break in—Cam has a devious side, trust me. But a minute later, we pulled in behind the town baseball field, about eight blocks from school, on the other side of town. It wasn’t lit, because they never light the field during winter, and Cam pulled around back, behind these big metal trash bins, which is where a lot of kids drink and get high on weekends. Look at this, he said, turning his high beams on this big gaping hole in the chain-link fence. Isn’t that beautiful? he said, staring at this blown-out hole the size of a baseball like it was a double rainbow.
I could tell, just looking at him. I mean, you could see the numbers he was writing on the chalkboard of his brain, computing the pitch, velocity, angles of the baseball bat, writing the whole story of how a single ball tore a hole right through time and space. It turned him on, I could just tell, but it was a little violent, too, almost like he wanted to get his fingers in the gouge and tear it wide open. If the fence was made of flesh, you’d call it carnal, but it was exactly the same, the way his brain hummed, like something you feel in your gut, but deeper, between your legs, just looking at this hole. What are you thinking, Thee? he asked, catching me studying him, and I said, Guess someone hit a home run. Looks like it, he said, smiling, grabbing my hand. Except that no one’s played a game here all winter: I asked the groundskeeper. Then someone must’ve snuck in, I said, shrugging my shoulders.
Cam goes, Thee, did I ever tell you about the bird in the bottle? And I shook my head no. It’s an old riddle, he said, and the riddle is this: There’s a bird trapped in a bottle. So how do you get the bird out of the bottle without harming either the bird or the bottle? And I thought about it, but shook my head, no idea. One day, I’ll figure it out, he said, reaching over, and I go, But that’s not the point is it? He didn’t answer, and he was so spaced out, staring at the hole in the fence, I actually wondered if we’d sit there all night.
Finally, he said, You know, when I was a little kid, my dad took me to a baseball field, just like this one, near our old house. He brought a kid-size bat for me and this, you know, like, ancient baseball, he said, wrinkling his nose, wrapping his hand around an invisible baseball. It was so heavy and gnarly, he said, and then my dad told me it used to belong to his grandfather, my great grandfather. And that his father had taught him to swing with that same old baseball. Family tradition. So we got started with batting practice, and I kept missing and missing, and I was getting so frustrated, but my dad calmed me down, telling me that’s exactly how it was when his dad taught him. And he kept explaining the finer points of hitting, and then, out of the blue, I hit that damn ball so hard, I knocked it out of the field. I’m not kidding, he said, and I couldn’t say anything, because he never talked about his family, especially his dad. I just waited, hoping that wasn’t the end of it, and it wasn’t.
I guess what I’m saying is that when I saw that hole in the fence, it reminded me of that time with my dad, and how, at some point when you’re a kid—like every kid in the world, you know, whatever it is, running or jumping or swimming, swinging a bat, at some point, you give it all you got. And when you connect, you honestly believe you are the fastest kid or the kid who jumps the highest or whatever. You are the best of all the kids in the entire world; no one is better, he said. The thing is, that has to be true for at least one kid, right? Some kid really is that kid, and I said, Is this leading back to you by any chance? He laughed, biting his tongue between his molars, and then he said, All I can say is—. This should be good, I said, and he said, We never found that baseball. I thought I’d done a terrible thing, but my dad, he… he was so proud, said it was the best swing he’d ever seen in his life. He said it was a tribute—I’ll never forget that. So, yeah, what I’m saying is that it’s hard to be the best kid in the world, and just as I reached to slap him, he grabbed my arm. I said, This is why you brought me out here at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, so I could feel your pain? And he said, You wanna feel something else, you’re saying? And I just locked my jaw, snatching my hand back, thinking, No, no, no, not gonna say it.
But then I did. I said, You know, sometimes, I actually forget you’re a boy, and Cam said, Come again? And I said, No, really, there are times when you can go three, four hours without saying anything rude or crude, but then it just wells up inside you, doesn’t it, and you have to let it out. Come on, he said, cocking his head toward his window and opening his door. I’ll show you the other reason I brought you here. Where are we going? I said. I didn’t want to get out—it was freezing, and dark. Cam goes, It’s a surprise, holding out his hand for me. Oh, and bring your camera, he said, so I did, walking over to him. This way, he said, taking my hand and leading me down, around the edge of the fence, down this old cobblestone walkway, with no idea where we were going.
I thought I knew this town, but I don’t. Every time he shows me something, takes me somewhere, I realize how many hiding places, just how many secrets this town has. Especially because there are all these abandoned tunnels, from when there used to be a different rail line with these underground tunnels that were just left here to die. I’ve been here three years, had never even heard of them before, and Cam’s barely been here six months, and he knows a hundred places I’ve never seen. One of the first things he’d ever told me was how he takes drives sometimes in the middle of the night, when he can’t sleep, and I’ve never asked where, because it’s private, you know? That’s probably how he found this place.
Here, he said, leading me ar
ound this old brick wall, reaching these steps, leading down into a cave or something. There’s a tunnel here, he said. Did you know that? he asked, and I shook my head no. Don’t be scared, he said, squeezing my hand, and I said, I am—I am scared, not wanting to go down there. I’m right here, Cam said, and then he reached into his coat and pulled out a big flashlight. I’m here, he said, and you stay right behind me, okay? I nodded yes, but I couldn’t even speak, I was so afraid. I mean, who knew what was down there—there could be people, stray dogs, anything.
It’s blocked off about a hundred feet in, he said, pointing the flashlight down the tunnel so I could see it wasn’t very deep, the space. They built all these tunnels back when the town was a military base, then closed them up when they built the new rail line. But if you could get through the wall, I bet it would lead all the way to the river. Every time I come down here, I imagine what would happen if you could walk to the other side, only to find yourself in some other dimension, a parallel universe. Or what if it took you back in time, this tunnel right beneath some small town, he said, and I shivered. You okay? he said, and I nodded yes, but I was trying to breathe, while my eyes adjusted.
I wanted you to see it, because I was thinking maybe you’d think up a story, he said, and I said, A story about an old tunnel? And he said, Yeah, maybe a story about a group who go underground, tunnel rats who discover other dimensions. Like The Twilight Zone, but with teenage kids. Think about it, that’s all I’m saying, he said. Could be good, you know? It could, I said, but tell me, what was the first thing that came to mind when you imagined reaching the other side of the wall, the other dimension? Cam shook his head no, he didn’t think of anything, but right away, I did—I saw it—I knew.
Cam knew I saw it, too, because he goes, That’s why I brought you down here, Thee. What do you see on the other side of the wall? And I told him. First thing I thought of was a street, some main street in a small town that’s covered with this film, like snow, but maybe four inches thick, right? But you don’t know what it is, and it sort of looks like confetti, like there’s been some victory celebration, Super Bowl, who knows what. When you first see the street, it’s a perfectly tidy, pretty main street, except then you see this strange trash, all over, and then you see that the street is littered with the corpses of every balloon every kid in the world has ever let go of by accident. You know how kids always wonder what happens to balloons, where they go? Well, that’s where. Not just balloons, either. Every soccer ball, baseball that’s ever gone over a fence and been lost. Or through it, I said, smiling at him.
Is there more? he said, and I said, Don’t know. I’d have to draw it first, and he goes, Then draw it, Thee, and even in the dark, I could see he was smiling, so pleased. All right, I will, I said, because I liked that idea of a town just past this brick wall, a town identical to ours, but with a main street littered by tons of balloons and balls, and what would that town be, you know? Like what was the story of that town that had to be the graveyard for all those things that kids miss so much? I better get you home, Cam said, holding up his hand for me, again. See? Told you, nothing to be afraid of, he said, and I took his hand, smiling at how scared I’d been, but not completely convinced.
FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 2011
(FOUR DAYS LATER)
3:10 PM
God, I wish I’d had my camera with me. Seriously, when we walked into her room, I swear Melody Knox was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Like the kind of pretty that makes you catch your breath—that’s how I felt, looking at her. And you know what she said? Before I even had a chance to say hello, she goes, I love your hair. That was the very first thing she said to me. Like I walked right into her voice, saying, I love your hair, and I stared at her, agog. Because I was like, You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world and you love my hair? Ohmygod, I love you.
And then, before I could even say thank you, I realized who she reminded me of. I said, Ohmygod, you know who you look like? I turned to Knox, and I go, You know who she looks like? Melody said, Who? And I said, Brooke Shields in the movie Pretty Baby. Except for the way Melody was dressed. I really don’t mean to be mean, but Melody was wearing this pink knit shirt and velour sweatpants, kind of like Juicy Couture but more like Cheapy Couture, and I was like, What’s up with that? Also, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, like a six-year-old—I didn’t get it at all.
So I said, If you did your hair, you’d look just her, and she goes, Pretty Baby? I’ve never seen it. We’ll have to rent it, I said, because she’s gorgeous. Your eyebrows are thinner, and your hair’s lighter, but otherwise, you could be twins. I didn’t say it, but I was just like, Wow, I can’t believe she doesn’t know who Brooke Shields is, and she goes, I want to get my hair cut like yours, and I go, You should—you’d look great with a bob. Or maybe with bangs, like Siouxsie Sioux in “Spellbound”? And she smiled and she goes, Who’s that? I looked at Knox, and then I looked back and said, You’re kidding, right? I mean, I’m standing there, thinking, Knox, you dress your teenage daughter like she’s five, and you have someone babysit her, and she doesn’t know who Siouxsie Sioux is? What sort of parent are you? I felt something behind me, and just as I turned, I saw Knox’s jaw drop like a bowling ball.
All of a sudden, looking at him, it’s like the whole scene replayed from when we got to Knox’s house. I mean, we got there, and we went inside, and he introduced me to his babysitter, who gave me this weird look, like what were we doing together, right? But then she didn’t have time, running out the door, and Knox sighed this heavy sigh, then he said, I’ll take you upstairs to meet Melody. So I followed him upstairs, and their place is nice enough, but it’s not my style at all; it’s very cozy, all these frilly touches, whatever. Anyhow, I followed him upstairs, and Knox knocked on Melody’s door, and I heard her voice say, Come in, and we walked in, and that’s the first thing I remember: so beautiful, and, I love your hair.
Then Knox goes, Thea, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Melody, and then he turns to her and says, Mel, this is Thea. I’m working with her—it’s business. And I said, You didn’t need to put it like that. Excuse me, he said, it’s for work. Then I remembered that I hadn’t even acknowledged her, so I said, Thank you, smiling at Melody, and Knox goes, Sorry? I said, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Melody, and he looked at me. I don’t understand, he said, and I go, I said thank you, because she said she liked my hair. That’s when I realized Melody looks exactly like Brooke Shields, and I told her so, then everything stopped moving, and Knox stared at me with his mouth open.
It was getting weird at that point, and I was losing my patience. It’d been a long, long week, and I didn’t have time to play Who’s on First? So I said, Knox, what did you want me to say? She said she liked my hair, and I said thank you, and Knox looked at her, then he looked at me, and then I saw her, Melody, as she really is. Melody was a different girl than the girl I saw at first, and that girl, the girl he sees, she was sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of her bedroom. Detective Knox’s daughter in a wheelchair.
The whole thing replays in my head; exact same scene, only not with the perfect girl, with the girl Melody really is. That’s why she has a babysitter, because she’s in a chair and she has palsy or something like it; I don’t know what. I could tell right away, too, that when she gets excited or when she’s trying to say something, she flails, because she can’t move her arms or legs. Like when she saw us walk in, she looked so excited, but all Melody could do was moan and flail. She can’t speak—I heard her talking, but she can’t speak a word.
I didn’t understand what was happening, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I held out my hand, and she tried to move, to reach for my hand, so I shook her hand, and it was like… it was like being shocked. Except it didn’t hurt—it wasn’t like that at all. It was like, it was like hearing this voice—just the most beautiful voice, and Melody said, I’m so glad you’re finally here. Knox’s mouth started to open, then she did it again—she said
, Will you tell him I want to get my hair cut? I didn’t think about it, I just did as she asked. I said, She said she wants to get her hair cut, and then Knox took a step back, and he goes, Thea, this isn’t funny—. For her birthday, I said, because that’s what she said, and he was like, Please, Thea. Tell him about this morning, she said, so I told him. She says you asked her what she wants for her birthday this morning, when you were putting on her shoes, and she wants you to take her to get her hair cut, I said.
Knox’s face—I’ve never seen that look on anyone’s face before. Then, finally, he closed his mouth, and he had this look like he was getting angry, and he goes, Thea, why don’t we go downstairs? All of a sudden, Melody starts yelling at me: I’m here! I’m right here! She goes, Don’t go! Please don’t go! I turned back and I said, I won’t—I won’t go. Knox looked at me, like, Are you out of your mind? So I told him: Can’t you hear her? She’s shouting, I said, plugging my ears.
Knox covered his face with both hands, and seeing him like that, seeing Melody, hearing her, I almost started bawling. Because I got so scared, and I didn’t know what the hell was going on, and the whole time, Melody kept begging me not to leave. I looked at her, and I kept seeing the beautiful girl, and all I could do was nod my head, because I was so confused. She just kept saying, I’m here, please believe me, Thea, and I said, I do. I know you’re here. I know, but I—I don’t understand what’s happening, and then the real Melody moaned, out loud, and you could almost hear a syllable, and I said, I’m sorry….
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