by Ian Fraser
I understood it was to wash, and I wondered again why it was that people did things they were afterwards ashamed of. There was silence as all three of us watched the mother’s car pull away.
“How did you know about the Clark twins?” Gertrude said.
Alice patted Bear on the head. “He knows everything,” she said. I watched the girl’s eyes return to me.
“That’s kind of true,” I said, seeing her think of a parallelogram.
“What am I thinking?”
“A parallelogram,” I said, watching the blur of subsequent thoughts.
“How did you do that?” Gertrude said.
“It’s like breathing,” I said. “I just can.”
“If you tell him not to, he won’t look,” Alice volunteered.
I nodded, watching Gertrude trying to get a fix on us. I knew she was a good person so I wasn’t worried. I was concerned about how Alice and I were going to get out of this situation. The nearest town was fifteen miles off, a little too far to walk before nightfall. I knew I could make it, but Alice wasn’t as strong.
“Please,” Gertrude said. “Please don’t look.”
And just like that, she was a closed book to me. “Now I can’t see into you at all,” I said.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I affirmed. “Once you’ve told me not to, I can’t.”
“You’ve got some kind of psychic gift,” she said. “You could make a fortune from it.”
“We have,” said Alice. “But that’s not important.”
Gertrude smiled, snorted. “To most people it is.”
Alice held up Bear in front of her face, spoke in a gruff voice. “We’re not like most people.”
“I can see that,” Gertrude said, frowning at the space where her mother’s car had been. I wondered what she was thinking. I smiled inwardly; the abrupt closure of someone’s mind to me was always a game-changer.
“Those weren’t your parents, were they?” she said.
“No,” I said. “They were good people who were helping us. But I guess things got too much for them.”
“Did they know about what you can do?”
“Of course!” said Alice as the Bear. “But they got scared, and tired of all the running.”
Gertrude said. “From what?”
Alice looked at me. I spoke. “There’re bad people in the world who don’t want us to be here. We can’t stay too long in any one place.” I sighed. “It’s always just a matter of time before they find out where we are and send their people to kill us.”
“What about the police?” Gertrude said, “Surely they can help?”
“It’s bigger than anything the authorities can help with,” I said. “Besides, the bad people are everywhere, mixed up with the good. The police would just turn us over to Child Services and then we’d be locked up in one place, probably separated too, and an easy target for the bad people, but with no escape.”
Gertrude sat on a case and regarded us. “Just how long have you been living like this?”
The Bear waggled his arms. “All of my life.”
“And about six years of mine,” I said. It was true. The reality had come upon me when I was about six years old. It had descended like mist from a lawn sprinkler: an increasing level of awareness leaving me sodden and ready to leave the life I’d had until then behind me.
The world moved in mysterious ways. I took my baby sister and we caught the bus downtown. An old black couple was waiting at the bus stop for us. I hadn’t known they would be, just that it was imperative that Alice and I should leave home that instant. She was too young to choose a keepsake so I chose Bear for her, and although these days he was looking the worse for wear, Bear was a treasured constant through all of our subsequent adventures.
The old black couple had been solicitous and kind, leading us to their small but clean apartment. They made beds for us and fed us, and once Alice was asleep, I sat with them. I recall their astonishment as they watched the evening news. Our house was the lead story: it had been torn apart in an explosion, what the authorities described as a catastrophic gas leak. No trace of our real parents (or us) had been found. Even then, as young as I was, I knew that it was no gas leak.
After a few days with the kind couple, I got a warning sensation that it was time to leave. If I delayed too long, they’d be killed. It was better that I left early with Alice; it would improve the chances of the old couple surviving. I reassured them that they had done their best. I took Alice and this time followed my instinct, leading us into the subway, and then off at a random spot. It was the turn of an old tramp to be waiting, and he escorted us to a desolate building at the edge of the Projects. We stayed there for some days before moving on again as the bad people located our trail.
In this way the years had passed until we were old enough for those helping us to pass us off as visiting relatives. In time, the chase expanded countrywide, and Alice and I grew accustomed to being dropped off at anonymous shopping plazas or truck stops, and meeting new folk who would help. Sometimes we only stayed with them a few days; other times it would be weeks or months before my warning sensation told me to get us moving. The manner of help had subtly altered as I’d grown older, becoming more complex, such as our current situation: being put in place with unsuspecting people and having to trust in their innate goodness.
Gertrude was considering us. “And you don’t have parents looking for you? No one back home somewhere worried sick?”
“No,” I said. “Just the bad people. And they want us dead.”
“They don’t want us to grow up,” Alice said, lowering the Bear and looking sadly at Gertrude.
“Why?” Gertrude said.
Alice smiled, and it was like unexpected beams of sunlight shining from behind thick cloud. “Because one day,” she said, “when we grow up, we’re going to make everything better. There’ll be no more wars, no more hurting, no more pain for anyone.”
“But,” I added. “it won’t happen if the bad people get to us.”
“How do you know I’m not one of the bad people?” Gertrude said.
“Silly!” Alice said, then changed her voice as she lifted Bear again. “We’re like a test for people to make their own choices about good or bad.”
“The people who dropped us off and left us here weren’t bad,” I said. “Not really bad. Not like the ones hunting for us. They were just frightened. It’s scary being part of something bigger than, well—”
“Everything!” Alice said.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Please help us,” said the gruff voice of the Bear. Alice waggled its paws, then peeped around it.
Gertrude broke into a smile, and I knew we were safe again. “This is crazy,” she said. “I must be crazy.”
“No, you’re not,” I said, letting the girl find her own way to her choices.
“There’s an empty cabin about four hundred feet back from here,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder with a thumb. “I’ve got the keys. The owners aren’t going to be around until Spring next year.” She frowned, rising and moving behind the counter. I heard the jangle of keys. “There’s plenty of food there and it’s set back far enough that my mom won’t see any lights.”
“We’ll be very quiet,” I said. “And the lights will be off early, so you’ve nothing to worry about.”
Gertrude handed over the keys and I thanked her, and so did Alice. “You probably should go before my mother gets back.” She smiled as Alice made Bear speak.
“Thank you on behalf of us bears,” the scratchy gruff voice squeaked.
Gertrude snorted. “You’re welcome.”
She had that same look that all the people who help us did, a kind of incredulous contentment. They’re not sure why they’re helping, only that the act of doing it is somehow making them feel more alive than they’ve ever been.
Almost blessed.
The cabin was clean and quiet. Alice and I did a walk-throug
h, although we knew nothing was there that could harm us. The twin beds looked soft and warm, and for a change, I let Alice pick the one she wanted. She giggled as she bounced on the bed. I smiled. It’s my job to protect her. She still has a few years to go before she’ll have the knowledge that I do.
The last time everything was up to me alone. This time it’s different. And then we shall be a force to be reckoned with, my sister and me.
I trust my father, who art in heaven.
Then there will come a new dawn unlike anything seen before. And inside each and every human man, woman, and child, there will be hearts of flowers.
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