But the old man turned around now and faced them. It was Mr. Grimlet, alone out here. It seemed as if he’d aged fifty years in just one evening—his face was so wrinkled and lonesome-looking. At first he put both arms in the air as if the boys were serious robbers and had stuck him up. Then slowly he recognized Ben and gave a little jump back as if Ben had shot him. “Oh!”
Ben said “It’s just Ben Barks, sir, and my friend Dunk. We’re heading on home.”
Dunk pointed to Ben and told Mr. Grimlet “His middle name is Laughinghouse. Have you ever heard such a name before? I always think it sounds like a name for the crazy house.”
Ben smiled, poked a finger into Dunk’s side, and said “Mr. Grimlet, excuse this boy.” He was going to say more about Dunk’s manners but then he didn’t.
Mr. Grimlet came toward them and held out his hand. He shook Dunk’s hand first. Then he shook Ben’s and asked him “How was it?”
Ben said “What?”
“Your goodbye to Sal.”
Ben suddenly thought “He told Sal to lift me; it wasn’t her idea.” And then he felt as though Sal had no real feelings for him but was just obeying orders from the boss. After that Ben couldn’t think of any words to say.
Mr. Grimlet said “I saw her saluting you there in the bleachers. She’s never done that before, not that I’ve seen.”
Ben was more than relieved. There’d be no need to tell Mr. Grimlet what had happened just now in Sal’s own tent—how complicated it was at first and how it eventually got fine. But Ben was worried that Dunk would blurt something wrong. So he put out a hand and covered Dunk’s mouth.
Dunk pulled back and spat but didn’t try to speak.
Ben said “Yes sir, I waved thanks to her and got a good hug. Thank you for everything.” Still his great moment was shared with no one but Dunk and Duffy.
Mr. Grimlet said “If you ever want a job when you get grown, boy, you track me down; and I’ll hire you fast. Old Duffy can’t work for many more years. His mind is failing.” The boss tapped the side of his skull; it sounded full.
Ben said “Sir, where would I find you, years from now?”
Mr. Grimlet thought a moment, then turned around, searched the sky again, and started toward the tents. As Ben and Dunk were also leaving, the old man spoke just loud enough to hear. “I may be up in the stars by then or under the ground, but keep asking for me wherever you go. I may turn up. I’m too tired to die.”
Dunk whispered to Ben “Is he nuts or what?”
In his natural voice Ben said “I like him whatever he is.”
Dunk said “Whatever—let’s get out fast.”
Ben took his time as he mostly did.
At the driveway to Dunk’s house, Dunk turned in, waved goodbye, and said “Thank you” once more. The house was dark as any haunted house in anybody’s nightmare, but Dunk sped toward it.
Ben had stopped and he almost called out “Wait.” He wanted to know why Dunk had told him to ask for Sal’s pardon. What did Dunk think his friend should be sorry for?
But Dunk was out of sight now.
Ben could ask him the question in school next week if he still needed to. Maybe by then Ben himself would have understood the time when Sal held him in her power, carried him to the verge of death, and then pulled back and gave him her gift.
For now at least Ben also put on speed and raced his way home. When he got there the house was lit up brightly in every window. It looked like an old-time ocean liner, afloat and steaming toward some destination that nobody knew. But Ben knew that these lights might mean bad things—or a sad thing anyhow. Since Ben’s mother died, his father would get a little drunk on some weekends. Then he’d light up the place just to ease his pain and to keep himself cheerful. Ben didn’t really dread that, but it did mean he’d probably have to help his father undress and go to bed.
So he parked his bike in the open garage and decided to stop by Hilda’s shed and check on her. As he entered her room and paused while his eyes adjusted to her dim light, Ben suddenly thought she might be dead. She’d given him so much trust in the goodness of this whole week. What she said had proved true. Now maybe she’d done all she meant to do and had left them for good. But then Ben could see that Hilda was lying flat on her pillow, looking up toward him.
Her life had dimmed down, but here she still was. Her tail moved slightly. She was choosing to stay.
Ben went over to her, stroked the back of her neck, and talked a good while about his evening and how nobody but she had told him how fine it would be.
Hilda kept on watching him the whole time he talked. Her clear eyes showed that she understood every word of his news, but she never spoke again, and finally she laid her head back down.
At last Ben thanked her and went toward the house and let himself in quietly.
His father’s pint of whisky was on the kitchen table, two-thirds full. The room was empty. That might mean his dad wasn’t truly drunk but was snoozing upstairs with his clothes still on.
Ben stood in the kitchen, raised his voice a little, and called out “Dad?” Nobody answered and nobody moved in the creaky house. That meant Ben had extra time on his hands, and he thought of another thing he needed to do before turning in. He went to the telephone on the wall and called Robin’s number. He still felt a little guilty for taking Dunk and not her to the final show. But then Robin might have envied Ben when Sal picked him up.
As late as it was, Robin answered fast. When she heard his first words, she said “Are you sick?”
“Do I sound sick?”
“No but, boy, it’s deep in the night—where are you?”
Ben said “I’m at home; don’t worry. I just wanted to tell you some news.”
She said “Your dad’s drunk,” as if it were a fact.
Ben didn’t really know but he said “No he’s not.”
“You went to the circus, I’ll bet.”
Ben said “Who told you?”
She waited a little. “I’m younger but I’m not that dumb, O High Wazuma. With an elephant in town for just one more night, where else would you be?” She’d learned the name Wazuma from Dunk, but this was the first time she’d tried it on Ben.
Ben laughed as quietly as he could manage. “That’s why I woke you up—to tell you how it went. See, I figured there wouldn’t be anything new; so I didn’t ask you again, but—”
Robin broke in. “I’m glad you took Dunk.”
“Good. You know Dunk never gets to go to things; so I took him, free, with the passes I had. And I was almost right—the show was pretty much the same as Thursday night till down near the end.” Ben paused to be sure he should tell her the rest.
“Hello? Was there some kind of accident?”
He said “Oh no, it was better than that. But the best part came later. See, once it was over I went into Sal’s tent to tell her goodbye—Mr. Duffy, the ringmaster, said I could. At first I was scared that Sal wouldn’t know me; but she did and—and this is still amazing—she lifted me up, sat me on her back, and let me lean my head on her head.” Again he paused to picture the moment and find the right words. He’d already decided not to mention the mystery of why Sal had gripped him so tightly and held him so high. It would just keep Robin awake all night, trying to understand Sal’s meaning.
Robin said “Hello? You’re fading out again—are you drunk too?”
“Maybe so but I haven’t been drinking. For the rest of my life, I’ll probably wonder if it truly happened or was just a good dream—Sal picking me up and bearing my weight. That’s the reason I’ve told you now. You can always remind me how a strong live elephant trusted me that much.”
Robin said “Look, Ben, I’m sleepy but, sure, I’ll remind you when we’re old and gray.” She gave a soft laugh.
And Ben joined her quietly. Then they talked awhile longer about their plans—Ben and his father were going to lunch at Robin’s house tomorrow. It would be Sunday and her mother’s birthday. Then Ben and Robin woul
d go to a movie downtown in the late afternoon. By the time they’d planned that far ahead, Ben could hear Robin’s breath slow down—she was almost snoring. He whispered “Sleep tight.” When she didn’t answer he thought she was gone. For an instant he felt completely deserted; and in spite of all the long night’s pleasure, he feared he’d be this lonesome the rest of his life.
Then Robin spoke up, dazed but clear. “I’m waiting for you, O Fabulous Wazuma.”
And they had a last laugh.
After Ben hung the phone up, he walked through the house from room to room, turning off lights and locking doors. He was still so deep in his excellent memories that he almost forgot to check on his father. So he climbed in silence to the top of the stairs, and from there he could hear the usual rasp of his father’s breath. There were moments when the breathing would stop, and you might wonder if he’d died or vanished, but then the rasping would start again. Mr. Barks had said he inherited snoring from his own dead father and that, no doubt, Ben would start his snoring any night now.
Ben stopped in the doorway of the first bedroom and waited till his eyes had opened to the dark. He could see his father’s clothes, neat on the chair, and his father’s body under the covers. When Mr. Barks had drunk a little too much, he was always careful to fold his clothes. But Ben stood there still for a moment to feel the relief of finding him safe. Then he turned to walk down the hall to his own room.
As he moved, though, his father said “Son, are you all right?”
“Yes sir, I just got in from the circus.”
His father said “Isn’t it late in the night? It feels like it might be four in the morning.” For some reason Mr. Barks would never keep a clock in his room.
Ben said “It’s about ten-thirty, I guess—maybe closer to eleven.”
“Was the show good again?” Mr. Barks rolled over and lay on his back. For a good while he gazed at the ceiling so hard that Ben wondered if he too could somehow see stars.
To bring him back Ben decided to answer him truly. “Dad, the show was not as good as when we saw it together.”
“I’m sorry” Mr. Barks said. “That tends to happen in shows—and in life.” He laughed a little, turned to face Ben, but then started coughing.
It lasted so long Ben wondered if his father maybe had injured his throat and lungs with the snoring, and Ben was about to go help him sit up.
But then Mr. Barks was breathing better.
So once he was quiet, Ben said “There’s some news, though. See, just after the main show ended, big Sal the elephant lifted me right up onto her back. I sat there, high, and looked all around us. It felt pretty fine. Dunk saw it, he was there, Dunk can tell you it’s true.”
“Son, I don’t need Dunk to tell me. You never lied to me yet, not that I know of.”
Ben said “No sir, nothing big anyhow.” He knew he’d left out the scary part, and he’d have to warn Dunk not to mention it ever. He also didn’t mention how glad he knew his mother would have been, here and now, if she could have stayed.
Mr. Barks said “I hope you’re not bruised or cut.”
Ben shook his head no. Under his shirt both his sides felt a little sore, but he knew that wouldn’t matter at all. So he said “Sal treated me as careful as a child, like she might have had a calf of her own when she was real young.”
“Then I’m glad for you, son. You deserved a good break. Go get some rest now.”
Before Ben could turn again to leave, his father was back asleep, breathing calmly.
Ben’s own room still had moonlight in it, all over the floor and on Ben’s bed. He stood in the light till his body felt warm in the silver shine. Then slowly he took off his clothes and smelled them to check for any last traces of Sal. His jeans had a mild clean odor of straw but nothing stronger. As he mostly did, Ben spread them out on the chair by his bed. Then standing in the midst of the floor, he was instantly tired all over his body. But he thought he might keep this worn pair of jeans forever, to help him recall this excellent night. He said to himself “That might look silly once I’m grown.” Well, he knew he could think about that in the morning. For now he wanted to plunge into sleep where he could try to see dream pictures of himself and Sal—Ben high in the air with Sal beneath him, two trusty companions.
He’d intended to say a quick prayer of thanks before he slept. But in less than a minute after his head sank into the pillow, Ben was resting as deeply as if he were diving through a lake of black water. And what came soon to his sleeping mind, instead of prayers or pictures of Sal, were many dream visits from his young mother. He hadn’t seen her this clearly in the months since she stayed in the hospital all those hard nights as Ben and his father watched her leave. Now, though, she looked refreshed again and a lot better. She was wearing a dress that Ben remembered—the one she’d worn when they first drew pictures, long years ago.
She asked how he was.
He said “Mother, I’m a good deal better—you seem to be too.”
She nodded and asked him to call her by her first name. In life her name had been Gail Barks. Was it still Gail now? Ben thought he’d try it once anyhow, and she could correct him if he was wrong. He said the word “Gail” and then just watched her in the dark of his mind.
At the name she nodded and moved nearer toward him. When she got to just a few steps away, Ben could see that she seemed peaceful finally to be in the far-off place where she’d gone. He could also tell she was curious to know how her son was and where he was headed in the years to come.
She stood down past the foot of his bed—where he could just see her—and she said “Tell me everything you want me to know.”
Ben worked hard to give her the answer; but hard as he worked to find clear words, all she needed to know amounted to this—Tonight I was carried very close to where you are. I got to the edge of what felt like dying, and then I got lifted as high as I’ve been since I was a young child and you and I played wonderful games that you made up and then let me win. So, see, my spirits have really improved. I can hope to go on and grow up now and maybe live like a trustworthy man with a useful job and a family I can keep.
Gail Barks smiled but stayed in place, still ready for more.
So again and again Ben told her the cause of this new hope. He told her every small detail of his recent luck with a perfect friend named Sala—Sacred Tree—and his mother seemed thoroughly glad to hear it, over and over, all through the night till she left him at daybreak.
A Perfect Friend Page 11
