Ilona’s room was at the far end of the hall upstairs, next to a small window seat overlooking the front yard. Ben tried not to look at the molding bread and a bowl of what might have been cereal decomposing on the faded cushions. “Ta da,” she said as she shoved the door open against a small mountain of clothes pressed between the door and the wall. The room was dominated by an enormous wrought-iron bed frame with peeling white paint. The bed, which was vaulted three and a half feet off the floor, was a receptacle for even more clothes, a pale pink comforter, and some twisted sheets coming up at the corners of the mattress. A stack of very unused-looking spiral notebooks and textbooks leaned precariously against the footboard. Two walls had windows. On the third there were two closets, both with doors ajar and spewing more clothes onto the floor, which was visible only in patches. On the wall above the bed, there was a large water stain and an unfinished mural. “Your work?” Ben asked about the mural.
“One of the Calvins did that,” Ilona said. “Stoners never finish anything.”
“Calvins? You have two friends named Calvin?” He felt a twinge of jealousy about these other friends who now had names. Other friends who had been in Ilona’s bedroom before him.
“Uh-uh,” Ilona said, “Twins. Harris and Elwyn. Harris painted it the summer before last. Judy was on a cross-country bike tour with her boyfriend, so they were pretty much living here.”
At the end of the bed, there was a dresser. The drawers were open and empty. “You don’t believe in them?” he asked of the under-utilized furniture.
“Nope, just lazy.” She climbed up onto the bed and pitched some of the books down to the floor. Ben sat on the floor and leaned against the mattresses for lack of anywhere else to go. Tucked behind a pile of clothes in front of him was a low bookshelf. He cocked his head to the side and read the titles. “You have the Lord of the Rings?” he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
“No!” Ilona said. “They’re probably my brother’s. He ran out of room on his bookshelves and clearly doesn’t respect my domain.”
“He lives here?”
Ilona waved her hand. “No, he’s older-older. Done with college. Lives in DC, working his balls off for some save-the-planet group.”
Ben pushed the mound of clothes aside with his foot so he could pull out a rather fancy leather-bound edition of the first book in the trilogy. He flipped open to the title page. “ ‘For Haakon, from Dad.’ Your parents don’t believe in regular names,” he observed.
“Same mother, different dads,” Ilona explained. “But yeah.”
“So you’ve really never read this?”
Ilona sighed. “No, should I?”
Ben smiled. He opened to the first page and began to read. At first Ilona groaned and complained a lot—especially when a new character was introduced. “How am I supposed to keep track of all these people?” she grumbled.
“Hobbits, not people.”
“Sandwich and Froyo. It sounds like the food court at the mall.”
“It’s Samwise and Frodo,” Ben said. “Do you want me to stop?”
Ilona said nothing, so Ben kept reading. He read until his throat got hoarse. Ilona got him a drink from the tiny closet-sized bathroom tucked in next to the wall of closets. The water was cool, though the plastic cup tasted faintly of toothpaste. Ilona curled up on her side and seemed to be waiting for him to continue. He was sitting on the bed now, his shoes resting carefully on one of the exposed corners of mattress—not on the sheets or comforter. It might have felt weird had there been anywhere else in the room to sit, but there wasn’t. He read until the sun coming through the thick pine boughs outside her window cast an orange glaze against the wall. He heard the car door and the engine turn over when Judy left for work, but he didn’t stop reading. He peeked over Ilona’s shoulder a few times to see if she had fallen asleep, but each time her eyes were wide open, though her breath was steady and even. He didn’t stop reading until his mom texted, asking in a roundabout way where he was and if he planned on coming home for dinner.
“I should go,” he said. “The elves are about to sing again anyway.”
Ilona made a face. “He could have left that part out. I don’t care how much you geek out on this, you can’t tell me you think the elf songs are interesting.”
“I think it’s interesting that Tolkien went to all the trouble to create them. You know, he made up all the languages and everything. This whole place was real to him. You should keep reading.” He couldn’t explain to her how important the books were to him, not without her busting out laughing. He wasn’t even sure he could put it into words, but it was the importance of a quest—something bigger and more important than the boring everyday details of his life. There were rules to be followed and brave acts to be committed, and above all, there was the possibility of total destruction if the quest was not completed. No matter how many times he read the books or watched the movies, he was hooked by the journey of Sam and Frodo and, above all else, by their loyalty and, yes, love that withstood every trial. But no, he didn’t really think Ilona would get that.
“I won’t,” Ilona said matter-of-factly. “Unless you want to come back and read more. I could probably handle that. Pick me up at work tomorrow. I’ll get some money off Judy for pizza.”
Chapter 20
The wind chimes on the back of the door made a tinkling sound when Ben stepped into the shop at Broadway Gardens. A woman came out of the back room. She had a pair of reading glasses on her face and another pair perched up on her head. There were two pens and one pencil sticking out at various angles from the back of her ponytail. Her eyes crinkled up as she assessed Ben. “Are you Ilona’s friend?” Ben nodded. “She’s in the back. Through here,” she said and gestured behind her. “I think she’s just finishing up.”
Ben walked behind the counter and through the storeroom and a hanging door of thick plastic strips. As soon as he stepped through, the air felt warm and thick. There were green things everywhere: plants with thick leaves hanging in baskets from the ceiling, and a carpet of tiny green sprouts in plastic pots that covered the rows and rows of benches in front of him. At the end of one of these long benches, he saw Ilona staring down at a plant with a few orange blossoms and yellowing leaves.
Ilona looked up when she heard him, but her face looked concerned. “This isn’t good,” she said, holding up a few of the yellowing leaves. “These are roses, and Valentine’s Day is less than two weeks away.” Ben smiled. He couldn’t help himself. It was one thing to see Ilona in her green Broadway Gardens polo shirt, but then when she started talking about the health of roses for Valentine’s Day? Had he entered another dimension? She rolled her eyes. He didn’t even have to say anything. “Don’t think I give a shit about anyone getting their sweetie some flowers and candy. I care about Diane.” Ben assumed this was the woman out front. “Their profit margin around here is so thin to begin with. If this is some kind of fungus or bug infestation, it could mean the difference between being open next season or not.”
Ben just smiled. Ilona looked annoyed. “Why are you still smiling?”
“It’s just refreshing to hear that you care about something.”
“Shut your piehole,” Ilona said. She stuffed a few of the leaves in her pocket. “I’ll figure it out later,” she mumbled.
Ben waited in the store, staring at the bird feeder displays, while Ilona went into the staff room to get her stuff. The woman with the pens in her ponytail came in and out a few times, each time smiling at him in a way that made him feel he was being assessed. When Ilona finally came out, she had on a tight blue wool sweater pulled over the green polo and a puffy red vest, skinny jeans, and boots. Her face was still flushed from the heat of the greenhouse. With her blue hair, Ben couldn’t exactly call her pretty, but she was something. Striking, he decided. Ilona was striking.
“I care about stuff,” she said when they pulled out of the parking lot.
“Okay,” Ben said.
&nbs
p; They were quiet for a little while until Ilona said, “Are you going to read me that book again?”
“Did you get the pizza money?”
“Sure,” Ilona said. “Judy puts out like a sophomore slut.”
Ben coughed into his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or defend somebody—the sophomores or Judy. Ben had told his parents he planned to be out for dinner, so they ate pizza on Ilona’s bed while Ben read Tolkien in between chewing bites of crust. This time he felt a little more awkward about being in bed with Ilona; there were actually other places in the house they could have been since Judy wasn’t home. But Ilona chewed loudly and clawed at a piece of tomato stuck in her teeth before flicking it on the floor. There was definitely nothing romantic coming from her end, he assured himself.
“You think we’ll have a snow day tomorrow?” Ilona asked.
“It’s supposed to snow?”
“Where have you been? All the radio stations have been blabbing on about it for hours—nor’easter, six to twelve inches and all that crap.”
“Since when do you listen to the radio?” Ben asked. “That seems awfully mainstream.”
“Since they have it on at the Greenhouse, asshole,” Ilona said. “Besides, I like some of it. I like to dance.”
“Oh, the mysteries of Ilona Pierce.”
“Oh, the mysteries of Ben Wireman,” she retorted.
“I’m not mysterious.”
“Oh really? What do I know about you? You’ve met Judy and you’ve seen my crazy crack house of a home. You’ve even been to my work. What do I know about you?”
“You can come over sometime,” Ben offered lamely. He knew how it sounded. He hoped Ilona couldn’t hear his ambivalence. It wasn’t her exactly; it was the idea of letting anyone in. But Ilona just shook her head. “If it snows tomorrow, let’s have a reading marathon. Like, all day, no breaks.”
“All right,” he said. But the next day, when it seemed the storm had missed them, he was a little relieved. It was really cool to relive the story, to experience it with someone else who was reading it—or hearing it, in this case—for the first time. And even though the marathon sounded fun, it would have meant it was over faster.
On his way to English class, he caught up with Tyler in the hall. “Hey,” he said.
“Where’ve you been?” Tyler asked. “You’re never around anymore.”
Ben’s first reaction was to think, “Me? Look who’s talking!” But instead he shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. So why couldn’t he just say it? What was he afraid Tyler might say? “I’ve been hanging out with Ilona. A lot, I guess.”
Tyler looked surprised but didn’t make any of the snide comments Ben had been anticipating. “So she turned out to be pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess she did.”
“What do you guys do? I mean, when you’re hanging out?”
Ben searched his face for any sign that Tyler was insinuating something. But he seemed truly curious. Ben felt a little guilty for assuming that his friend, who was rarely judgmental, would be so now. And now that Ben was looking at him, really looking at him, he realized he didn’t look very good. There was a shine that was missing. His hair looked flat, maybe even unwashed, and there were circles underneath his eyes. As though he could sense Ben’s gaze, Tyler pulled a hat out from his back pocket and jammed it on his head. He stood up straighter, puffing his chest out slightly.
“We just hang out,” Ben said. “Sometimes we smoke up.” And then, because Tyler looked genuinely interested, he added, “I’ve been reading Lord of the Rings to her.”
“No shit? And she likes it?”
“Uh, not sure about that. I mean, I think she does. But she doesn’t want to admit it.”
“That’s cool,” Tyler said. Suddenly the door opened behind him, and Ben was surprised to see Mr. Higginbotham standing there until he realized that he and Tyler were, in fact, standing in front of the guidance office.
“I’m ready for you, Mr. Nuson,” Mr. Higginbotham said before disappearing back into his office.
Ben gave Tyler a questioning look.
“College stuff,” Tyler said.
“I thought you were going to BU?”
“I am,” Tyler said. “I mean, pretty much I am. I failed some classes last semester, so guidance wanted to meet with me. Whatever, I’ll bring my grades up. It’s a new semester, right?”
It was weird. He’d never known Tyler to fail a class, much less several at once. “It’s kind of a big deal though, senior year. At least that’s what everyone says.” The words felt strange coming out of his mouth—awkward, like trying to talk with those cardboard pieces they put in your mouth at the dentist. Who was he to lecture anyone in a cautionary way about the future?
“It’ll all work out though,” Tyler said.
It was a comment he’d heard Tyler make with ease hundreds of times. But Ben thought it was the least self-assured he’d ever sounded. He felt a pang of guilt. How did he not know that Tyler was failing classes? And then, just as quickly, the feeling turned to resentment. How could he know, when Tyler shared nothing about the darkness that was threatening yet another part of his life? He took a deep breath, searching for something to say that would let Tyler know he was there for him, even if he hadn’t exactly been around much lately. But then Higginbotham coughed loudly, and before Ben could say anything, Tyler gave a halfhearted smile and ducked into the guidance counselor’s office.
Last period classes were cancelled because the snow had finally started to fall. It was floating down in thick quarter-sized flakes that were piling up in a sticky fashion on the sidewalks and streets. The buses left early, and all afternoon activities were called off. Ilona was waiting by his locker when he went to get his backpack and jacket. “One ring to rule them?” she asked by way of a greeting.
“Can’t, my mom wants me around to shovel.” Ilona looked annoyed, so he brought up the text on his phone and read it to her. “ ‘If you can stay up all night watching television for school, then you can get your butt home to help your father shovel.’ ”
“Later then?”
“Yeah, maybe. Okay, probably,” he conceded. “But first you have to admit something.”
“What?”
“You like the book,” Ben said smugly.
Ilona rolled her eyes. “Of course I like the book. It’s good.”
For some reason her words took him back to that day with Tyler, the day he asked him why he had always been picked first when Tyler was captain. Of course it was Tolkien’s book, not his, but somehow this approval from Ilona amounted to the same thing.
“Except for the elf songs,” Ilona added.
“Nobody likes the elf songs,” Ben admitted.
Chapter 21
Ben left a note thumbtacked to Ilona’s front door. Call me when you get home. I’m waiting until midnight and then calling the police. Inconsiderate asshole.
Now that he looked at the note, he realized the last two words could be read as either an accusation or a signature. When he wrote them, he was flushed with anger and fear. Now it was just fear gnawing at his gut as he walked away from the front porch and got into his car.
When he had gotten to Ilona’s house earlier that night, Judy was on a tirade. Apparently she had discovered one of the little “presents” Ilona had bagged up and left in her purse. Ben walked in to hear something made of glass shattering against the floor. He had been on the verge of turning around and heading home when Ilona came charging down the hallway, her boots unlaced, her jacket dragging on the floor. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out the door behind her.
At first he walked toward his car, but Ilona gave him a look and said, “I need to walk.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “Let’s walk.” He grabbed his hat and gloves from the passenger seat, and they set out into the road where the snowplows had recently passed, leaving a flattened area of snow that squeaked against the bottoms of their boots. At the end of her street, they tur
ned right down Walnut Street, a road that became more rural after a few blocks and eventually dead-ended in front of a foundry. There were railroad tracks that ran across the road just before the foundry, but the snow had long since covered them, leaving only an outline under the white blanket.
By the time they reached the tracks, Ilona’s anger had cooled and she was speaking, although in small fragments only. Ben didn’t push her. The snow was still falling but in small crystalline fragments that sparkled under the orange streetlight over their heads.
“Let’s go that way,” Ilona suggested, pointing down the tracks to their right.
A gust of wind blew the icy fragments into his face, blinding him momentarily. “Come on, Ilona. Let’s go get some hot chocolate or something. We can warm it up with something extra if you want.”
She looked up at him. Her blue bangs stuck out from one side of her black woolen cap that looked like something a trash collector might wear. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure Dunkin’ Donuts is open or Cumberland Farms or something. Come on.”
Ilona’s eyes hardened. “Nah,” she said. “I’m going for a walk. This dumps out behind Broadway.” She paused and looked at him critically. “It must be nice to visit crazy instead of living there.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Aren’t we all freaks according to you?” As soon as he said it he regretted his tone, which was less-than-sympathetic due more to the snow accumulating in the heels of his shoes than to any real annoyance with her.
She waved him along and said, “Don’t you have some luggage to go get monogrammed or something? Go on, get out of here!”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he called out. “It’s a long way to Broadway.” Ilona started walking away from him. “I’m going to get my car,” he called after her. There was no response. God, she was stubborn. He tried again. “I’ll pick you up at Broadway if you really want to walk there.” She gave him a thumbs-up without turning around. He stood and watched her as she faded into the dusky swirl of falling snow. Twice he started walking after her, and twice he turned around again. As soon as he made up his mind for good, he started jogging back to his car.
Wired Man and Other Freaks of Nature Page 14
