Not As We Know It

by Tom Avery

  I shook my head.

  “There’s been this cat,” Ned said. “Keeps sleeping in our garage.”

  I turned my shake to a nod.

  Officer Taylor pulled the door open a little more and stepped into the garage. He flicked on the light switch and looked up at the broken bulb when nothing happened.

  “You’re not messing around here, are you, lads?” he said.

  “What?” my brother replied.

  “You know it’s an offense to disturb most wildlife, don’t you?” Mr. Taylor stepped into the garage. He pulled a torch from his belt and shone it towards the tub. The surface rippled. Leonard was gone. The policeman shone his torch under the bath and round at the shelves. The light stopped on a box high on a shelf. A cow’s skull lay beside it, not on top. The policeman walked towards it.

  “Oop! There it goes,” Ned said, spinning on the spot.

  “What?” The torch was on us.

  “The cat,” Ned said, “just ran out.”

  Mr. Taylor looked at me.

  “It was quick,” I said.

  Outside, in the light again, the policeman wrote a few words in his notebook. “Thanks, lads,” he said. “Hopefully that keeps our neighbor happy.”

  We nodded and waved goodbye.

  I sighed when Mr. Taylor had disappeared down the road. “It’s time,” I said. “We’ve got to let him go. We can’t carry on like this.”

  Ned looked at his feet. “I thought I’d know when it was time. I thought I’d be ready.”

  “What?”

  My brother shook his head and coughed. He looked up at me and nodded. “You’re right. It’s time.”

  We’d agreed it was time, so we made plans. We’d take Leonard back to the sea and we’d do it at night. It had to be at night. We had Ned’s E.T. box on the front of his bike to put him in. There was the spot, halfway down to the beach, where the path split, and at the end of the left branch the rocks made stepping stones out to a platform that stuck into the sea, like a tongue tasting the salty waves. That was where we’d send him home.

  But still we waited. Ned could not just let him go. Maybe he was still waiting to be ready. That first night, after the policeman had come knocking, my brother asked for a little more time.

  The next day was spent with Granddad, looking at maps and playing Risk. Granddad won. Ned sat glumly while Granddad’s red troops decimated his yellow ones. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t remember the first three presidents of the United States—George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson. I couldn’t tell Granddad which river passed through Istanbul—the Bosphorus. The names of the twins who are said to have founded Rome were lost to me—Romulus and Remus.

  “What’s wrong with you boys today?” Granddad asked.

  We both shrugged.

  “Well, my mermaid stories are all run out. So I can’t help there. Hmm. Shall we get chips for lunch?”

  “All right,” Ned said. Chips are always a winner.

  —

  I was ready to do it that night. I’d fed Leonard and told him that it was time to go home. I’d found our warmest clothes and pushed them under the bed, ready. But Ned’s cough was worse than ever. He lay on the sofa, choking.

  Water streamed from his eyes as Mum rubbed his chest. Dad looked angry as he watched. I sat by the living room window and stared out at Fomalhaut, the lonely star.

  Later, as Mum fixed Ned a drink—Dad had fallen asleep—I said I’d do it, I’d take him.

  Ned sat up and spluttered through his cough. “You can’t, Jamie. He can’t go without me. Surely you understand that.”

  I frowned at my brother.

  He shook his head, coughed and lay back down.

  Ned was still coughing downstairs when I was sent to bed.

  —

  He slept long into the next morning. I woke before him.

  Mum made me write about the fox book. The boy, Billy, had to let the fox cub go. It was sad. But you could see that life would still work. I thought I should tell Ned about it; we didn’t need Leonard. Life worked without him.

  Mum sat beside me and sighed. Her eyes were red.

  When Ned woke, he was still exhausted. He brought his duvet downstairs and watched Star Trek.

  Mum brought us macaroni and cheese with frankfurters in it.

  “My favorite,” Ned said.

  As “The City on the Edge of Forever” ended and Kirk said his parting line, Ned turned to me. “Tonight,” he said. He’d only managed a few mouthfuls of his pasta.

  “You sure?”

  My brother glared at me. His eyes were dark. “Tonight,” he said. “I’m ready. It’s time.”

  We stayed up late, whispering. Ned asked me to tell him all of the mermaid stories again. The Japanese captain. Atargatis. The mermaid of Zennor. Long Ben and Perla.

  We listened to the stairs creak as Mum and Dad climbed. We waited for another hour after their bedroom door shut. And it was in that hour that my eyes closed and I drifted into sleep.

  I was awoken by a peal of thunder. Ned was gone. Alone.

  I sprang up, still dressed, and bounded silently down the stairs.

  Outside, there was little light. Cloud covered the moon. I looked for Fomalhaut but could not find it.

  The front gate clanked shut. I could hear Ned already pedaling away.

  “Ned!”

  Thunder called again, drowning my shout. I ran for my bike. A drop of rain hit my nose as I flung the front gate open. It quickly became a drizzle.

  The street was quiet. There were no lights on. I squinted ahead.

  Ned was there, not taking the path behind our house, which wound round and round and down and down. He stayed on the road—it dropped down to join the path some way along.

  I pedaled quickly, calling to him, hearing only his cough in reply. The rain fell heavier but I was catching up.

  I saw the car before I heard it. The headlights hit Ned, then me. I watched Ned swerve to the left. Officer Taylor peered into the night at my brother, then me.

  Ned swore loudly.

  “Ned!” I shouted.

  “Lads,” the policeman called, but we were gone, flying downhill.

  I left the road and joined the path as the headlights lit upon me again.

  “Ned! Jamie!” Officer Taylor shouted.

  I could not see my brother. I could still hear his hacking cough, though. The path was slick. Mud spat up as my wheels slithered beneath me. I glanced back.

  “Come on, boys. You’ll break your necks,” I heard on the wind.

  I didn’t stop. I pictured Leonard’s huge eyes squinting ahead. As the rain fell heavier still, I pedaled harder and missed the spot I was looking for.

  My brakes screeched and my wheels lost all grip. I flew forward and got a faceful of mud and grit, my arm twisting painfully beneath me.

  Ned’s bike lay discarded. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed, reflecting in ripples off the sea’s waves. I could see Ned again, disappearing over the rocks with the merman following.

  I picked myself up and ran. A torch’s beam bounced up and down as Officer Taylor chased us.

  “Jamie!” he shouted again. “Ned!”

  I jumped from wet rock to wet rock. I lost my footing a few times, finally crashing down on the stone.

  Leonard was almost home, he and Ned bounding ahead. My brother’s jumps almost matched the merman’s. He was not the sick boy who lay choking. Tonight he was transformed. There was life I had not seen in a long time. He was reborn.

  I lay breathless and bruised, watching.

  Leonard and Ned, Ned and Leonard crouched together where the rocks ended. Some whispered words, some quiet clicks passing between them.

  “Lads!” the policeman roared; he’d reached the bikes.

  Ned leaned forward and whispered once more in Leonard’s ear. My heart roared with jealousy. “Our adventure,” Ned had said.

  I pushed myself upward and strained to reach my brother.

  The
merman’s huge eyes swiveled as he sat there perched on the edge. He smiled at me, then he leaped through the rain and into the waiting waves that swirled below.

  He bobbed for a moment, then looked up at Ned. Thunder called again.

  I watched as Ned reached into his pocket. Another flash from above lit upon the carved bone whale as my brother leaned down toward the merman’s outstretched hand.

  Suddenly Officer Taylor’s torch beam shone round and round like a lighthouse.

  “Lads!” he called again. I looked back.

  Then there was a splash. I turned quickly, but Ned was gone.

  The waves still swirled but no heads bobbed above them.

  I wanted to dive, to save my brother, but without him all courage was lost, all boldness gone.

  “Help!” I screamed. “Help!”

  An age came and went before the policeman barreled past me, flicking off his shoes and leaping into the cold sea.

  Through the rain and my tears I couldn’t see. My words were lost amid the last crack of thunder. “Please help.”

  Mr. Taylor rose to the surface. He bobbed, looking down.

  The waves sprayed up and the rain fell down.

  The policeman dived again.

  Now my body began to shake. It was the cold or the shock or the sobs that rocked through me.

  Then the waves broke. Mr. Taylor’s dark hair. His eyes were searching, not below the waves but up now, at me, at the ledge. There was another head and the policeman was holding a frail body.

  “Ned!” I screamed.

  Mr. Taylor grunted as he pushed Ned up onto the rock. He pulled himself out, grabbed my brother and held Ned’s body up to his ear.

  “No, no, no,” Mr. Taylor hissed. He threaded his fingers together and laid them across Ned’s wet chest. The fingers flexed and pushed down as hard as Mum’s percussion.

  I was glued to the stone. A statue.

  Mr. Taylor grabbed Ned’s nose and brought his lips down to my brother’s. Ned’s chest rose and fell as the policeman blew.

  Then he writhed and Mr. Taylor knelt up. Water shot out of Ned’s mouth like a volcano—water and vomit. Mr. Taylor rolled Ned onto his side.

  He stared upward and whispered a string of swear words and thanks.

  I sprang forward and grabbed Ned. Over his shoulder, with the clouds now parted, I saw Fomalhaut, winking down at me.

  “Ned!” I cried.

  My brother coughed and whispered, “He’s gone.”

  I ignored him and squeezed harder.

  —

  In “The Tholian Web,” the crew of the Enterprise believe they’ve lost Captain Kirk. They even hold a funeral for him. Spock and Dr. McCoy play a recording that Kirk made in case he ever left them—his final message, asking them to work together, not argue. They go forward without him.

  I thought about the day that Ned would leave. The day we knew was coming. Would I be able to go forward without him? Would all boldness leave? What would I be without Ned, without Captain Kirk?

  At the end of the episode, they get Kirk back, rescue him from the subspace rift. The captain is disappointed when McCoy claims they hadn’t yet heard his final message but surprised to hear how well he and Spock had worked together.

  What would Ned’s final message be? Would he leave one?

  The rain had almost stopped as we ran and stumbled back up, toward home. I’d brought Ned’s bike and left mine discarded where I’d crashed. Mr. Taylor carried Ned and left his shoes by the rocks.

  All the way, Ned complained that he could walk.

  Mr. Taylor kept saying things like, “What the hell did you think you were doing?” and “You’re bleeding lucky I saw you” and “What will your parents say?” He didn’t give Ned a chance to answer.

  We found his car squashed against the hedge that lined the road. Mr. Taylor threw Ned’s bike in the boot, and we got in the back. The car sped through the dark, sprays of mud flicking up from the screeching wheels.

  We stopped outside our house. “Let’s get in,” Mr. Taylor said. The policeman pounded on the front door before I could reach for the knob.

  A light went on upstairs and we heard Dad shout, “What the hell…?”

  The stairs creaked as I pushed the door open.

  “What’s going on?” Dad said.

  —

  Mum cried as she stripped Ned’s clothes off in front of everyone and threw towels around him.

  “Tony doesn’t want to see my wing-wah,” Ned complained.

  Mum just cried and Dad grew angry as Mr. Taylor told them what had happened. Ned and I filled in the blanks.

  “I was just chasing him,” I said. “I woke up and he’d gone.”

  “I wanted to see the stars,” Ned lied. “I wanted to see Fomalhaut.”

  “You can see the stars from your bleeding window!” Dad shouted.

  “Your grandfather and his stories!” Mum cried.

  “I think Ned’s all right—” Mr. Taylor said.

  Mum interrupted. “We’re going to the hospital.”

  “Yeah, you’ll want to get him checked out.”

  “Now,” Mum said.

  Dad thanked Tony and grabbed our coats. Mum still cried and asked Ned again and again, “How could you? How could you?”

  “Why didn’t you wake us?” Dad asked me.

  I just said, “It was so quick; I didn’t think.”

  “He’s a bit of a hero really,” the policeman said. “I was following Jamie. I don’t think I would have seen where Ned went without him.”

  Dad grabbed me in a half-hug. I didn’t feel like a hero.

  Ned coughed and shivered and looked sicker than he ever had.

  Mr. Taylor left—he had to get up for Lucy’s “dance thing” in the morning—still dripping, followed by hurried thank-yous from Mum and Dad. Dad threw my coat at me, and I put it over my wet clothes. Mum put hers over her nightie.

  “He needs clothes,” Mum said.

  Dad ran up the stairs and came back with layers and layers for Ned. “Let’s go.”

  Ned dressed in the car. His cough grew worse and his shiver became a shake.

  —

  They knew us at the hospital. The nurse took one look at Ned and fetched the doctor. We were whisked away down corridors, to a large room.

  Doctors and nurses, Mum and Dad crowded round my brother. I sat on a hard chair in my damp clothes.

  I didn’t remember falling asleep. I remembered the cold and damp and dark. Then nothing. Then it was light and I was curled in a softer chair, wearing just my underwear with a rough hospital blanket around me.

  Ned lay in a narrow bed. His chest rose and fell. Wires stretched from beneath his sheets to machines that flashed and bleeped. Mum knelt by the bed, her eyes red and wide. Dad was asleep on the hard chair.

  “Mum,” I whispered. “Ned?”

  Her eyes did not move from Ned’s quiet face. “Granddad’s coming to get you.”

  He came, not long after. He and Dad whispered by the door.

  “Come on, Jamie,” Granddad called, smiling at me.

  I found my clothes, laid out on a radiator and dry now. I pulled them on and smelled the stormy sea.

  I looked at Ned one more time, then Mum, then Dad. They both stared at my brother.

  What would we be without him?

  Granddad took me by the shoulder. “Come on,” he said.

  I cried in the car all the way back, through Weymouth, along the road next to Chesil Beach, up to Granddad’s bungalow. Granddad told me I wasn’t to worry. He told me Ned was in good hands. But I knew what Ned had said—“nothing helps.” He was flotsam, helpless, bobbing on the vast sea.

  All day I cried and Granddad talked. Ned had pneumonia, he told me. He’d be in the hospital for a while. I cried and Granddad tried to make me eat. I managed a few chips. I cried and watched TV.

  In the evening, Dad came. They whispered again. I was left out of another conversation.

  Dad took me home. Mr. Tayl
or had left Ned’s bike out by the front door so I wheeled it round to the garage. The door stood open, and I pushed the bike in and leaned it against a wall. I stood in the still and quiet and watched the calm water in Leonard’s tub.

  I thought about the moment I turned at Officer Taylor’s call. Did Ned fall? Did he jump? Or had the creature that we’d sheltered pulled my brother in?

  I kicked the tub and it filled the garage with a low-ringing note. The water swirled.

  After a time, some unknown length of time, Dad called me in again.

  We talked in the kitchen, with bowls of tinned ravioli growing cold in front of us.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said.

  Dad scratched his neck and frowned. “Jamie,” he said, “you did your best. Right?”

  I swallowed on nothing and stirred the orange sauce with my fork.

  “You heard Tony. He wouldn’t have found Ned without you.”

  I lifted the fork and stared at the pasta speared on the prongs.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  It wasn’t? Maybe if I’d not kept Ned’s secret, if I’d shown that little merman to Granddad on that first day or to Mum or Dad, or if I’d told the policeman even, when he came looking…? Maybe Ned would not have gone alone. Maybe I’d have been there to hold him back. But then again, no one could stop Ned when he had a plan.

  “What’s gonna happen?” I said.

  “The doctor…,” Dad began. “The doctor says he hopes…He’s gonna be OK.”

  —

  The next morning, when we went in to see him, Ned didn’t seem OK. Wires and tubes still connected him to bleeping machines.

  Dad had brought clean clothes for Mum. He pulled her away from the bed and took her to shower and change. She gave me a brief flicker of a smile as they left me with Ned.

  I thought he was asleep, but as soon as the door closed his eyes cracked open.

  “Jamie,” he said with a thin grin.

  “Ned.”

  “You should have been down there. It was amazing.”

  “What?”

  The door opened and we turned as a nurse came in. She carried a clipboard and a jug of water.

  “Morning,” she said. She looked at the machines and wrote on her clipboard. Then she took a jug away and left the full one.