The Ship We Built
Page 11
When I feel alone, I never tell another person. Instead, I usually hum to myself or I look for leftover pizza in the refrigerator. Other times, I sit with the skates and shoes inside my closet because sometimes it’s nice to feel small surrounded by small things.
To be honest, I wouldn’t even know what to say to an emergency contact if I called them, especially when it’s so close to the most special midnight of the year. I’d want to say something simple like “I feel alone,” but that’s probably not an emergency at all. Maybe that person would laugh at me for trying, and say I’m a big waste of time. Maybe they will say that I should have tried harder in 1997.
In the meantime, I’m realizing that sometimes just sitting together is enough. Sofie and I tried to sit and breathe together on her big orange couch at the beginning of break. I told Sofie about how I got caught trying to pee standing up at my house. Mom knocked loud and said it’s time that I do something right for a change. She was so happy watching Shirley Temple movies before Dad came home. When I told Sofie all that, she let out a breath so big that I could feel it traveling all the way from her belly.
Then it was Sofie’s turn to cry. She told me that her dad got into another fight with someone in charge and is going to be sent to Marquette Hickory Prison. I don’t really understand the whole thing, but I do know that he is farther away from Sofie than ever before. I also know that he is in bigger trouble than ever too. Like I said, I don’t really know how to talk about these things. It’s bad to say “no” to the wrong people. Sorry. It’s just that holidays are supposed to be a happy time, but I’m not so sure about that anymore.
Sofie and I had made a special card for her dad a few weeks ago. I hope it got to him before he was moved to this new place. It had a drawing of two bears sharing a jar of honey, which I hear is good for your voice. I hope that one day he gets to make something out of the wood he used to chop down. I hope he knows that we forgive him for whatever happened. I hope for so many things.
Sofie forgot to breathe for a few seconds when she talked about it. She said, “Maybe I should go away too.” I hugged her tight right then and there. I started to sing her my own version of “You Are My Sunshine.” It was louder and truer than anything that came out of me at the winter concert. I guess somehow everything feels a little safer in basements. I stayed in the hug long enough for her to drift asleep. I put my ear on her back. It was like listening to Lake Superior with each breath coming in like a bigger wave. I let my head rise and fall with her.
I actually thought about calling Sofie on the phone tonight for New Year’s, but she wouldn’t even be able to see my haircut. She’s probably busy anyway, sitting with her mom next to the clock, counting down for something good to happen.
By the way, I just looked out my bedroom window because I heard Jax barking. It’s now midnight. The sky is full of red and silver fireworks, changing into blue and some other colors too. Their bursts look like the kind of dandelions you can wish on. Maybe that means something good is going to happen after all. I’ll try to make a wish, and you can too.
Happy New Year to you, friend.
Sincerely,
Rowan
Friday, January 2, 1998
Hi.
All week long, I’ve been waking up at four in the morning. There is for sure nobody I can call that late at night to talk about feeling alone and weird. Sometimes I just try to pass the time in my refrigerator box.
Luckily, this morning I let myself stay in bed and fall back into a dream for a little bit. I lived in the sky with the fireworks, but I was watching my body sleep in Portage Lake. My head was just above the water. A blue boat full of bearded men in yellow hats fished nearby, and they let me stay exactly how I was. We all just did our own thing as the flashing fireworks kept changing the colors of everything. It was nice.
Anyways, I have to go do more chores now. Mom and Dad are nervous that our pipes are going to break because it has been so cold, but I don’t know. I think it will be all okay.
Sincerely,
Rowan
Saturday, January 3, 1998
Hi.
I have to tell somebody this. My parents tried to take my refrigerator box away. They took it to the street folded in half. They said, “It’s in the way.” Mom has a New Year’s resolution to get rid of “what we don’t need.” If that’s true, why are they keeping my first-grade finger-paints or piles of green, coppery rocks from White Pine? Geez Louise, all of those just sit in their own dusty boxes.
I can’t tell my parents what the box means to me, so instead I just did what they said, and finished my “you’re grounded for cutting your own hair” chores. They just don’t get it.
You have to swear on your life to keep quiet about this. While shoveling the driveway this afternoon, I came up with an idea for a secret mission to take my box back. I kept my face buried in my SpaghettiOs dinner, then watched out my bedroom window until I heard the TV turn off. I tucked the little amount of hair I have left into my hat, and snuck out the front door as quiet as I could. I brushed off the new snow, and was so strong that I lifted the cardboard over my head. I promise you, my refrigerator box is not in the way. It’s my way out. It’s my ship.
The box is now folded, safe in the way deep back of my closet. It won’t be staying there forever.
Rowan
Thursday, January 8, 1998
Hi,
Winter break is over and I’m officially not grounded anymore. It’s because I took down the Christmas tree and put the ornaments and angel into a box without anybody asking me to. My parents told me I did a good job doing extra chores. I left it at that and kept my mouth shut for the rest of our hot dog and orange pop dinner. I usually have a lot of secrets at the dinner table, but lately I have a few more.
On Monday after school, I brought my refrigerator box to Sofie’s house so she could keep it safe. I guess it’s good Sofie gets another favorite place, but she never asked why I gave it to her. We unfolded the cardboard together and spent a whole entire day inside our ship drawing, eating sourdough sandwiches, and playing checkers without talking about it at all. Sofie has a superpower where she only asks questions when she really means them. I think that’s better than having the powers that most people want, like turning invisible or flying away. She asks the most questions during rounds of truth or truth. Questions like, “What would you grow if you had seeds for anything in the world?” or “What do you think about the neighbor’s new fence?” She once asked me with really wide eyes, “If you could fill your body with anything other than blood, what would it be?” That was a hard one. I think I would like to be filled with maple syrup or snow.
She never once asked me why I called myself a boy yesterday.
We were sitting outside of the box to watch James and the Giant Peach and play Jenga. The narrator said that James used to be the loneliest boy there was, and now has a loving new family and all the friends in the world. I put another wood block on top of our block-stacking game, and told Sofie, “I’m a boy. I know it.” It was my first time saying those words out loud in a strong way, in a way I never told the Trampoline Club.
You don’t hate me, right? I really did mean what I said to Sofie, but I got scared for a minute. I put another block on top of our tower, and could hardly trust that either. It was almost forty stories high, and having only two blocks on the very bottom wasn’t very much support at all. The tower wiggled and waved. My shoulders crept up expecting that it would fall any second. Even worse than losing the game would have been Sofie telling me to leave because I said the wrong thing. I couldn’t help but think about us breaking up, and Mrs. Gavia taking my box back out to the street.
Before anything bad happened, Sofie took the movie out of the VCR and flopped onto the orange couch. The cushions looked soft enough to disappear into. I slowly joined her on the one farthest from her. I kept my arms folded and my feet buri
ed. I was afraid of her questions, that I’d get too scared to repeat myself. I’m not even totally sure what it means to be a boy, so don’t ask me. But haven’t you ever said something about yourself and it’s like you can feel your heart beating for the first time in your life? It’s like that.
Lucky for me, Sofie didn’t do that. She also didn’t give a big speech saying “I don’t care” or “It doesn’t change anything about us.” That’s good because I want her to care about the ways I sometimes hurt and change. Instead, she just said, “You are a boy, and I’m glad you met yourself.”
Then she said, “You can stay here too, whenever you want to.” Listening to her words made my shoulders creep down. I felt okay enough to stretch out my legs again. Our toes touched from opposite ends of the couch and we shared small smiles. She’s right, I did meet myself.
You still like me, right? I hope so, because I like me right now too. Just like James in the movie, I’m not meant to be miserable either.
Hope you’re also having a good day today.
Sincerely,
Me
Saturday, January 10, 1998
Dear Whoever You Are,
I finally went to a slumber party, but I wasn’t exactly invited to it. It’s hard to explain. I’m actually at it right now.
You should know that this might be my last letter. Things are changing fast, and honestly I didn’t know how hard finding a good home was going to be. In James and the Giant Peach, it took James running away and turning into a cartoon to do that. I promise you that I didn’t really want to run away. It’s just that my house door is locked right now. I’m just glad I saved my refrigerator box when I did.
I tried to say “I’m a boy” in a not so strong way at my house this morning. I was just trying to cut my hair again. I was tired of it covering my ears, but, even in the movie, James’s aunts said that dreaming could get him killed. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I feel so stupid. I just really hope nobody catches me crying like this and tells me I’m not a real boy.
I should have hid everything I cut off better. I should not have left all the strands I threw away looking like a bird’s nest sitting on top of the wastebasket. I should not have skipped making my bed this morning. I also should not have accidentally knocked over my orange juice at our special Pillsbury cinnamon roll breakfast. Most of all, I should not have gone outside to check for the mail when Mom went out for her errands.
I walked away from the mailbox with empty hands. This time, I admit that it would have been really nice to have an early valentine or balloons or a warm scarf to hold at that very moment. The front door wouldn’t open. I knocked on it for forever. I know it’s not allowed, but I even kicked the door trying to get it to open for me. Dad was for sure inside because I could hear Mr. Karl Bohnak talk about the cold front on TV, and I even heard the microwave heating something up when I first came down the stairs. This one time Dad threw all my shoes into the snow because I put them in the wrong spot by the door, but I never thought it would be me getting left out in the snow.
I don’t understand. He was trying to be so nice to me last night, but it was so chilly out there on the porch that it hurt. I didn’t care anymore about looking at my breath, and instead thought about my hands freezing off completely. My ears actually felt the cold more than ever because I had no hair to keep them warm. I really had no choice but to walk to Sofie’s house. I probably stomped on top of so many snowflakes on my way there. Imagine how many worlds got totally crushed on that walk alone.
I’m probably asking you too much, but do you think anything will go back to how it was before? I want it to, but I also don’t want it to. I hope I don’t have to stop being Rowan from now on. Do I have to be Ellie to be good? I don’t know anything anymore.
When I got to Sofie’s creaky red door, her mom’s eyes looked like glass. She let me inside, and said, “Oh, Ellie. I’m surprised to see you here. Sofie was just thinking about calling you.” I closed the door behind me softly to keep more snow from avalanching off the roof. I took off my icy tennis shoes first thing. They flopped to the ground, ready to melt. Sofie hopped off of the tall kitchen chair, and said, “Hi, Rowan.” She didn’t bother to finish reading her Garfield comics.
Dusty the cat followed us into the basement, and I made myself into a mountain with a dozen quilts on top. The couch sank in like it remembered me. It felt good to be remembered by something so soft, to feel my toes again.
Sofie was really excited to have company, I think. As soon as I got warm and settled, Sofie asked me a million things, like “Do you want to play Jenga again?” “Do you want to play cribbage?” “Do you want to play house?” I know that she meant every question, but I said no to it all. I felt bad and I felt nothing at the same time. She then asked if I wanted to do something extra-extra fun, like sledding in Swedetown or renting free kids movies from Family Video’s. I said no again and again. I had trouble saying yes to anything that whole afternoon, even to playing with the box that I tried so hard to save.
I still feel so bad about it because I know Sofie feels alone in the world too, especially now. I hope she’s not mad at me. It’s just that sometimes when I get really sad, I can only think about whales and imaginary places that are so far away. I got totally lost just staring at the wall until Sofie moved a few inches closer to me. I liked the feeling of her being closer, but it made me even more nervous. I didn’t want to get in trouble for something all over again. I can’t deal with any more trouble. She put her head on my shoulder, but I didn’t feel it at all. I might as well have been somewhere else. I might as well have been gone. Do you think I’m a bad friend?
I guess I’m just bad at slumber parties. Especially now I heard that the Trampoline Club is also going by the name Lambda Kappa Kappa, or something like that, because one day they want to live in that pink Greek house with white pillars next to the big river. I like that house too. I have driven past it a million times and it’s giant. I bet I could have my own room inside of it, but I don’t know. Maybe I will have to be called Ellie to stay anywhere at all.
I like Sofie’s house and everything, but now I just want to go home. I should probably go look for her. Viivi started crying more than an hour ago, and I haven’t seen either of them since.
I don’t want to be a boy anymore. I wish I knew how to make it stop. I wish I was easier to take care of.
Sorry,
Ellie
Sunday, January 11, 1998
Hi.
I’m back in my bed in the pink room in the white house with the frozen lawn. Everything is where I left it, but it somehow doesn’t feel right. Maybe I should just be grateful, but I don’t know. My parents are talking downstairs. They keep using the word “problem,” and for once they aren’t talking about each other. They are talking about me. I wish I could tell them that they are wrong.
I don’t even know how they figured out I was at Sofie’s. Either way, it was really nice of Mrs. Gavia to let me stay over last night. I’m glad to know that I’m not banned from sleepovers for forever, but I do wish it had been on purpose enough to get a party invitation in the mail. Truth is, I didn’t sleep so well on Sofie’s basement floor. I stayed up super late thinking about that locked front door, but I was also thinking about how nice the pillowcase felt on my neck. It was cold, but in a good way. My shorter-than-ever hair lets me feel things I have never felt before. You know what I mean? I actually really like it. I’ll try to explain it better once I have it all figured out more.
Sofie and I then spent all morning doing stuff for school. Don’t judge me, but I didn’t have my backpack with me before I got locked out. I had to look at Sofie’s worksheets and books to fill out my own answers onto a loose-leaf piece of paper. I skipped filling out my name. I chewed on my pencil and crossed out most of the answers I tried to write down. The multiple choice questions were the hardest of all, and by the time I opened Sofie’s
science workbook, I just stared at it. We just started learning about the human body. It’s complicated and there are a lot of parts to learn. I still can’t even think about that right now. I’ve been getting tired of answering other people’s questions lately. Mr. B might be disappointed, but I decided to skip science homework altogether. I put the workbook back inside of Sofie’s backpack. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care about getting an incomplete.
Sofie was still working at that point, so I tried turning my brain off for once and used Sofie’s backpack as a pillow. The cushion was kind of stiff and the zipper’s jingling made it impossible to nap, but I did have a nice view of the space underneath Sofie’s couch. I could see two blocks, three quarters, enough to buy a carton of chocolate milk, and lots of dust bunnies.
I’m not a bad student, I swear. I was just tired, and didn’t want to do this science stuff on my own and I don’t really want the reward of being a hall cop or hall monitor or whatever anyways. I used to be so good, and sometimes I’m not so sure if I ever will be again.
All of a sudden, Sofie rolled a permanent marker toward me and said, “Do you want to play a game?” I said, “As long as it’s a game that we could both win.” She nodded, and I scooped up the marker she gave me. The two of us came up with an idea to write our initials onto one of the wooden legs of the couch. Do you know that game? It’s okay if you don’t because I think we just made it up out of nowhere today. It’s called tree trunk.
We knelt down to the carpet like we were about to pray. Even though I helped make up the game, I had no idea what I was doing. I have never written something permanent in a permanent place before. I just sat there with the marker for who knows how long. I wonder if it is that hard for the people who write in the bathroom stalls at school. Sofie then reminded me, “You can use the name Rowan if you want to.” It was the first time I smiled with teeth showing all weekend long. I even challenged myself to write in cursive R.B. for Rowan Beck.