“Mom, I believe. I really do believe. I look, I watch, I wait, and I AM thankful, Mom, I really am. So why doesn’t it happen to me the way it happens for Chance and Charleston, or even Chief? All of you are going places I can’t seem to get to and you know things I just don’t seem to know.”
“Okay, but tell me what you do know, Constance,” Faye would ask.
“Well, I know that you all come back different when you get near Wonder. I know that what you learn, you can’t get from just the everyday world. I know that what you say makes sense of this world, somehow. I know that you love me and that you wouldn’t lie to me, but I also know that there seems to be a wall that I can’t get over, and the more I try, the higher and thicker it feels, and Mom…I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” Faye worried out loud.
Then came the troubled response.
“I’m afraid that you will all go somewhere that I can’t ever get to.”
Faye grew anxious as she watched Constance’s growing struggle and redoubled her efforts to help her daughter forge a way through it. She wandered around her daughter’s sensitive boundaries, sometimes treading carelessly upon sacred spaces she had not yet discerned in her daughter’s heart. Constance often felt pressured and questioned herself all the more.
Frank intuitively understood his daughter better than anyone else, for while Frank had a childlike acceptance of the Wonder of it all, he also had to keep his feet on the ground and his head from being caught up in the clouds. Frank didn’t overthink things. He had an essentially practical way of Wondering, and this was a very good thing for the Faultsoms.
If not for Frank, who knows if his family would ever function in the everyday world. Yes, Wonder perhaps was the realest of all worlds, in the ultimate sense, but for some reason, they all had to live in the regular world, too. No amount of imagination was going to pay the bills, unless it was the kind of imagination that resulted in more sales and profitability for Peerless Pencil.
Frank shared with great tenderness in the family’s excursions and sought his own, but he always made sure his wife and kids stayed tethered to the rock-hard realities of life, as well — gas in the car, food on the table, mortgage, insurance, and taxes paid, chores done, and regular schoolwork completed to his satisfaction. He fiercely treasured his childrens’ imaginations and knew that it was essential for his kids to stay out of the Grown-Up Factory. This meant that he must provide a way for Faye to be on deck at all times to captain their daily life instead of pursuing her own career. He also knew something about Constance that no one else knew, including Constance herself.
Frank knew that Constance was actually more sensitive to Wonder’s call than she realized. He somehow understood that his daughter would carry her deep inner awareness of Wonder into the ruthless and practical world around her in a way that perhaps none of his other kids might have to. For Constance secretly carried in her not only the reality of Wonder but also possessed a profound awareness of the reality of Badness. Of his three children, Her heart was the most perceptive and perhaps the most likely to be broken.
How would such a child manage to thrive in two realms? Frank knew that often those who are the most aware of the darkness around them are the ones who can most easily dry up from the inside out. As his daughter struggled, it pained him because she didn’t even know how much of Wonder was just a normal part of her being and how the very air she breathed was permeated by the laws and economy of that other dimension, even though it felt distant and inaccessible to her. Sometimes he would sneak into her bedroom at night and hear her murmuring in her sleep. She seemed to be churning inside or wrestling with something or someone. Frank and Faye both knew that this child’s inner “believer” was utterly awake.
What they didn’t know was how much Constance feared she would never measure up to all that Wonder. And frankly, could Wonder measure up to her expectations? How could a place that was supposed to be so incredible and so beautiful square with the often mundane, ugly, brutal world that she intuitively knew existed somewhere outside of the Faultsom sanctuary? If Wonder was real, was it really accessible to her and what of those outside the Faultsoms’ world?
In the dim, lonely hours of that long night following Constance’s bitter disclosure, Faye’s brooding was accompanied by Cornelius and Frank with their snuffling and snoring. She shoved the luxuriating hound dog off of her side of the futon and gave her husband a brief but furious jiggle. This momentarily put a stop to his buzz-sawing while she continued her meanderings through the ups and downs, ins and outs, of Wondering that unfolded in and around each of the Faultsoms through those early years.
It had been a time filled with excitement, misadventures, and mistakes, complete with its share of worries. Recalling sweet moments of laughter and grace in the midst of it all, Faye smiled through the tears. This respite from her heavy-heartedness faded quickly, however, as she returned to her concern over the darkness she had last seen in Constance’s eyes.
It was then that painful flashes from a quite dreadful time in the life of the Faultsom family invaded Faye’s consciousness. Filled with trepidation, but driven by the need to understand her daughter’s heart, she courageously peered around the corner of her defenses and into a darker corridor of the past that she knew she must walk down again.
Cautiously, she approached a door that was tightly shut and cracked it open to reveal a space full of foreboding. As she entered reluctantly, she was transported back to a time when the familiar and safe fabric of the Faultsom family life was poised to unravel.
“Beware! Be on alert!! A threat issss emerging. There are thossseee who have sssslipped through our fortificationssss. They must be resssstrained. Their little onessss believe! We must wait and watch for an opportunity to contain them! We will capitalizzzze on their weaknessssessss…”
Like any young parents, Faye and Frank, were thoroughly occupied with raising their kids, paying bills, running errands, etc., as well as trying to be as respectable as possible which was no easy task considering their unusual circumstances. Unbeknownst to them, they were in a terribly precarious situation, for you will remember that it was a rare person during this era who did not follow in lock step, at least outwardly, with society’s skeptical conformity and intolerance of anything truly mysterious or extraordinary. It was risky to question The Prescribed Order (The PO) and practically scandalous for parents not to send their children to a local “Grown-Up Factory.”
Their neighbors already thought the Faultsoms were quite strange and were bewildered by the riotous curiosity, energy, and enthusiasm that generally characterized the family wherever they went. Over time, folks in the neighborhood got somewhat used to the Faultsoms. Some even grew to like the family, while others merely tolerated them.
When the officials at the local GUPF were informed that Constance, Charleston, Chance, and Chief were not going to be registered at the facility, they were quite suspicious, to say the least. The Faultsoms’ idiosyncrasies raised concerns and furrowed many a brow within the institution. Despite this, they were somewhat limited in what they could do to save the Faultsom children from the perils of their parents’ unorthodox methods. Unless, that is, they could prove the children were in some sort of danger. Thus, the officials at The GUPF had been watching the Faultsom family very closely for years to see if they might need to intervene and place the children in a more appropriate environment for their social growth and life-skills development.
In other words, if the Faultsoms could be proved unworthy parents in some way, their children could be forced to attend The GUPF, or possibly even be removed from the Faultsom home. As it turned out, what Faye had planned as a lovely community service and an enrichment opportunity for the kids became the very means by which they were brought under the intense scrutiny of The GUPF facilitators.
It all started when Faye, who had a passion for birds, wanted the kids to learn more about them. She regularly endeavored to bring learning to life with han
ds-on activities of all sorts. To this end, she would take the kids on bird-watching outings to the local park and zoo, as well as into their own jungle of a backyard. She and Frank dreamed about taking the kids on a birders’ safari to the Amazon rainforest to see exotic species in their habitats. This, however, was an unlikely eventuality given the paltry salary Frank received from his labors at Peerless Pencil. Unless their fortunes shifted miraculously, the family would need to find other ways to explore the bird world. It was at this time that Faye met Ms. Imperia Beasley, president of the Busy Birders Ornithology Club.
“Ornithology,” Faye explained to the children, “is a branch of zoology, which is all about the study of birds and The Busy Birders study birds like nobody’s business.”
Indeed they did. They watched birds, sketched birds, and fed birds. They investigated indigenous bird behaviors and habitats, and when birds were in distress, they rescued them. So Faye and the kids volunteered to help the “Busy B’s” raise money, which they hoped would also help them build bridges to the community. Most thrilling of all, the family had volunteered to help take care of the birds that were rescued. This activity was very much anticipated by the kids, particularly seven-year-old Chief.
“Mama! Do I get to twain the birdths we help?” quizzed, Chief.
“Nah, you’re too little, Freckle Fart. You get to clean the cages,” interrupted twelve-year-old Chance with his inimitable way of setting things on fire just to watch them burn.
“I am NOT too little! I am almost theven! Mama, Chance thays I can’t twain the birdths! But I will, I will!”
“Cheese whiz, Chance and Chief — chill out!” fifteen-year-old Constance pleaded as Chance continued to prod Chief, who erupted into tears.
At this point the family’s other twelve-year-old twin, Charleston, with his usual annoyingly reasonable know-it-all-ness, offered his advice.
“Chance, it would be to everyone’s best advantage if you would refrain from provoking our younger sibling,”
“Who died and made you Gumby?” Chance retorted.
“I think you may be referring to Ghandi, who just happened to be a famous leader from India, world-renowned for his commitment to peaceful negotiations,” Charleston corrected, even as Chance continued to stir things up.
“Ah, put a sock in it, Encyclopedia Brown. You think you’re so smart. You’re always taking up for Chief, even when he’s being a pain in the butt-ox.”
“Chancer! Whhhyyyy do you find it necessary to continually inflame things?” Faye cried out in exasperation, just as the kids jumped into a free-for-all of the Blame Game.
Before she lost her temper entirely, Faye began to hum to herself and then to mischievously chant The Song:
You little rotten scoundrels!
Was it something that you ate
That made you so uncouth, unkind?
Unable to appreciate —
All that lies before you
In the fabric of your days?
Your attitude is stinky and
You’d better change your ways!
She continued squeaking through the verses, getting louder until she made herself giggle.
You little Rug Rat Sillies
You’re just moments from relief
Or days and days from happiness
’f you keep giving me your grief.
I can give it back again
And wrap it in some trauma,
So turn your attitudes around and
Let’s avoid the drama.
Three of the kids began to sing and chortle along with their mom, until a bit of sanity was restored, and they were actually feeling their spirits lighten. There was something almost magical about that song; it always changed things for everyone — except, in this case, for Chance, who steadfastly staked out his claim to a foul and rebellious mood due to the fact that he earned himself double chores for the week because of his cantankerous behavior.
Ah, yes, it was just another normal morning in the Faultsom home, as the family prepared to host a late June garden party fundraiser for the ornithology ladies. Faye reminded the kids to be on their very best behavior, as The Busy B’s would be bringing their most prestigious guests and biggest donors to the Faultsoms’ overgrown backyard haven with its flowering plants and bushes, then in peak bloom and attracting many interesting local birds. It was the Faultsoms’ chance to demonstrate to the community that they weren’t so terribly strange.
It should have been a lovely day. But then, there was Chance, quite perturbed by his lengthened list of chores; very annoyed by the squawking bird ladies who were invading his yard and longing to immerse himself in his new science project on chemical chain-reactions. And then, there was Ms. Imperia Beasley, president of The Busy Birders, who, as it would turned out, was also the director of the local Grown-Up Factory.
The stage was set for trouble.
The afternoon started out with promise. It was a day adorned with a joyous array of chirping birds, extravagant displays of color, and thirsty bumble bees that were staggering from flower to flower sucking in the luscious nectar. The Faultsoms’ frenzy of a garden was resplendent, glowing with sunlight and speckled here and there with pools of shade. The breeze carried hints of honeysuckle and jasmine.
Faye and The Busy B’s were welcoming guests, and Constance was handing out their mom’s famous lavender lemonade, chocolate chip meringues, and almond butter crisscross cookies, as Charleston filled the air with cello music while visitors drifted around the garden reveling in summer’s glorious exhibitionism. Chance and Chief were nowhere to be found.
Peppering Faye with questions about the plants in her garden that best attracted area birds and butterflies, The Busy B’s and company eagerly slurped up her lemonade. Faye was attempting to fill glasses and answer queries when she noticed that Cornelius needed to be secured. The birders, waltzing around with their goodie-filled plates, were just too much temptation for the family’s impetuous hound dog to resist. He had already slobbered up a few unattended almond butter cookies and was sniffing around for more. Faye scanned the yard for help and found none. When she saw Cornelius make another dash toward one of her guest’s plates, Faye caught Constance’s eye just as her daughter headed out of the back door with a fresh plate of cookies. Faye shot her that “Help me!” look — receiving the “Why does it always have to be me?” look in return.
“Where are Chance and Chief??” Faye wondered irritatedly, as she stepped up onto the deck, scouting the terrain to see if she could spot the missing brothers of the host family.
Just then, she heard a sinister, frizzling, popping sound underneath the deck, followed by a putrid odor rising amidst strands of smoke that filtered up through the wood planks beneath her. The hissing sounds and flashes increased as the deck area was engulfed in smoke and stink, which floated out into the yard on the otherwise welcome summer breeze.
With his sizeable stash of sparklers, rubber bands, and hair collected from the family hair brushes over many months, Chance had managed to a create a linking chain of smoky stink bombs that went off every ten seconds or so until the backyard party was in a shambles. In his mind, this was just another science experiment of the sort his folks had largely encouraged.
“How could something this ingenious be anything but a great idea?” he had rationalized, as he crouched under the deck and struck his first match.
In his heart of hearts Chance knew his darker side was at work in this prank, but having ignored the inner warning voice he jumped into his dubious experiment with both feet. You will remember that moments after Chance lit the fuse, Chief discovered his brother’s hiding place and was soon up to his eyeballs in the experiment as well. This stunt, of course, had been the catalyst for their explosive launch headlong into Wonder, one right after the other!
It all happened just as Ms. Imperia Beasley had begun to address The Busy Birders (who were assembling around the Faultsoms’ deck to bestow their biggest honor upon their largest donor) that smoke a
nd stink invaded the yard.
“Members of The Busy Birders and our esteemed guests we are so thrilled to have you here for the highlight of our Busy Birder calendar of events…,” Ms. Beasley intoned.
The bird ladies shrieked as Cornelius began to howl, running back and forth and knocking several of them over, along with a number of chairs and the table upon which the Birders’ cherished stuffed-bird collection that had been placed.
Up on the deck, Faye had the best vantage point from which to see the whole unruly wreck unfold, and who should be right next to her in the very center of the cloudy stench? Ms. Imperia Beasley herself! The short, round, and positively pompous president of The Busy B’s, with her piercing gaze and pointy nose, was humiliated in front of her most honored guests.
“Friends, ladies, please! Pu—leeze calm down! All will be well…” she shouted as she shot Faye a sulfurous glance.
As her blood pressure hit the roof, Faye sprinted around the yard trying to calm everyone down while the introverted and self-possessed Charleston withdrew from the havoc to protect his cello from damage. Since Chance and Chief were missing in action, it fell, as always, upon Constance to moderate the mess and confusion.
“Constance! Do Something!” Faye pleaded with her oldest child as if it were all her fault.
Once again Constance would take the heat for not keeping her brothers in check. Mom had made it crystal clear that the family needed to communicate an air of normalcy to their guests and now her daughter was sure she would be held responsible for the turmoil.
Mrs. Amazing and the Seed Page 4
