by Lou Aronica
Chris couldn’t remember the last time Becky had simply leaned over to give him an unprompted kiss on the cheek. It seemed that he always had to initiate the act these days, and even when he did, she responded with little enthusiasm. It was another one of those “teenager things” he might have been less perplexed about if he felt he was on steadier ground with his daughter. That made her actions this morning something of a real stunner. Had she been present during their conversation last night? How could she have heard what he said to her and responded the next morning so affectionately?
Then, of course, there was the mention of Tama-risk. It had been years since Chris last spoke to Becky about that place of their imaginations. She’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want anything more to do with it and he’d quickly learned that it wasn’t even safe to reminisce. A simple mention could earn her scorn, and if he actually tried to discuss it, Becky would criticize him for not understanding that she’d grown up and had moved on. So why did she raise the topic out of the blue this morning?
And what did it mean that she told him “Tamarisk is real” on the heels of the most distressing confrontation they’d ever had with each other? Was this some kind of response, some kind of coded message? Was Becky trying to juxtapose the current state of their relationship against the days when they’d invented dreams together? That was unlikely. It wasn’t like his daughter to speak in codes. Still, if she wasn’t making some kind of metaphorical statement, what, exactly, was she saying?
The simple fact that a peck on the cheek and a reference to their old stories could set his mind reeling underscored for Chris the absurdity of what he’d said to Becky last night. I give up . Why the hell had he even said that in the first place? He was angry and frustrated, of course, but he prided himself on never reacting out of anger with his daughter. He’d felt the need to say it, though; not to suggest to Becky that he was washing his hands of her (he hoped she hadn’t interpreted it that way), but to tell her that he was resigned to allowing their relationship to be whatever she felt it should be. He was acknowledging that he couldn’t control her and that he was ceding the fate of their future together to her.
There were two problems with this. The first was the ambiguity of what he’d said. She could have interpreted it too many ways, almost all bad. The second was that it wasn’t true regardless of how she had interpreted it. He hadn’t given up, and he couldn’t allow himself to accept whatever Becky decided their relationship should be. He would have realized that this morning even if she hadn’t kissed him on the cheek on her way out the door.
Even if she hadn’t whispered, “Tamarisk is real.”
No matter what any of it meant, it left Chris with some extra energy to carry him into the rest of the day. He’d seen a sparkle in Becky’s eyes this morning that he hadn’t seen in a while, and he knew in his heart that this sparkle wasn’t about the trip she was taking to Al’s brother’s house. This had something, in some way, to do with the two of them, even if the nature of it remained a mystery. That meant a lot.
An entire free Sunday stretched out in front of him. Usually, an unstructured day intimidated him. However, today, driven by the sparkle in his daughter’s eyes, the lightness of her kiss, and the playfulness of her mysterious proclamation, he saw these open hours as an opportunity. He’d make some more coffee, read the paper, maybe make a pass at the crossword puzzle, and maybe even watch that Monty Python movie after all. Perhaps he’d skip showering and shaving as well.
Eventually, the sunlight streaming through the living room windows beckoned him. He hadn’t realized the weather was going to be so pleasant today. He decided to call Lisa.
“What time should I pick you up?” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a beautiful day and we’re going to spend it together. What time should I pick you up?”
“Is it nice out? I’m still in bed.”
“I’m not going to ask what you did last night. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I can’t come out to play today. I have an open house this afternoon.”
“What time?”
“Chris, please don’t be dense. I just told you I can’t go out with you.”
“I meant what time is your open house.”
“Oh, that. Three o’clock.”
“That gives us plenty of time to go out to brunch. Pour yourself into the shower; I’ll pick you up at a quarter to twelve.”
Lisa looked crisp and professional when she answered the door a short while later. Chris preferred the way Lisa looked when she wore casual clothes instead. Dressed like this, though, she certainly seemed like someone from whom he’d buy a house. She insisted on taking two cars to the restaurant so she could dash off if necessary to get to her showing on time, which made his picking her up in the first place superfluous. When she declined a Bloody Mary with brunch, he knew this real estate prospect had her a little more keyed up than usual.
“No drink? What kind of house are you showing today?”
“The four-million-dollar kind.”
“Four million dollars? You have a four-million-dollar house to show today and you’re having brunch with me? Shouldn’t you be cleaning the grout in the kitchen tile with a toothbrush or something?”
“Yes, I probably should be, but you sounded irrepressible. I didn’t want to try to repress you.”
Chris smiled broadly. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on with you, anyway? You didn’t get lucky last night, did you?”
“Don’t be crude. I’m just in a good mood.”
Lisa smiled and put a hand on top of his. “That’s nice. Do it more often.”
“I’m gonna give it a shot.”
The waiter came by and, while Lisa ordered, Chris glanced around the restaurant. His eyes made contact with those of a young woman with lustrous golden hair. She smiled at him and glanced away a moment later. She seemed incredibly familiar, but he couldn’t place who she was. She looked a little like Kiley—maybe he kept “seeing” his niece because someone was trying to tell him to call her. Was she a friend of Becky’s? No, she was too old. One of her teachers? No, she was probably too young. Could it be someone new at the office? He didn’t think so. Someone with whom he’d had a blind date? No, that was impossible because she wasn’t scowling at him.
“What can I get you today, sir?” the waiter said, drawing Chris’s attention back to his own table.
“A Mexican omelet with whole wheat toast, please. And some more coffee when you get a chance.”
“I’ll be back with that in a minute.”
Chris took another sip from his cup and then glanced across the room again. The woman with the golden hair was talking animatedly with friends and she seemed a little different to him now.
“Someone you know?” Lisa said.
Chris shook his head. “No, it isn’t who I thought it was.”
Who did I think it was, though? Chris realized he didn’t know—but that he somehow should.
They were finally on their way home. Becky had been looking forward to this trip for weeks—Al’s niece and nephew were two of the coolest people she knew— but she couldn’t help feeling distracted today. They’d be talking up in Kayla’s room and Becky would find herself drifting away in the middle of the conversation. Back to that place—wherever it was—where she’d met Miea last night. That encounter was hands down the most bizarre experience of Becky’s life, but it might also have been the most exciting. After all, it isn’t every day that you discover the existence of another world—a world that you somehow helped create. And Miea was as great as Becky had always imagined her to be. She was regal and elegant without being stuck-up in any way. The thing about the old king and queen dying was tough, though. Miea looked so sad when she talked about them. Becky’s heart went out to her immediately.
The whole experience left Becky with this little buzz the entire day, something like the way she
felt when she ate too much sugar. She was revved up and feeling super-alert. She hadn’t felt this sharp in a while, and it made her think that maybe the stuff with the dizziness and the bloody noses really was nothing more than a bad virus. If she were getting sick again, she would never feel this good ever, would she?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” her mother said from the front seat of the car, tapping her on the hand at the same time.
Becky took off her iPod earbuds and said, “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”
“You just seem a little, I don’t know, gaga today.”
“Gaga? As in Lady Gaga?” Becky said, laughing.
“No, not that Gaga. You know, gaga . Like your body is here and your head is in Southern California.”
Not Southern California, Mom . “I’m great. Really. I’m just listening to some music. Maybe I’ll switch to Lady Gaga.”
“Did you have a good time with Kayla and Matt?”
“Yeah, of course. I love those guys.”
Her mother seemed skeptical. “Okay. You didn’t seem to have as much fun with them as usual.”
“We’re kinda too old to run around the house now the way we did a few years ago.”
That drew a smirk. “No kidding. I just—no, it’s fine. If you say you’re okay, I’m sure you’re okay.”
Mom turned back to the front of the car and Becky put her earbuds in again. What would her mother have said if she told her why she seemed so gaga ? She’d probably have Al drive them to the nearest crazy house. Mom was great about most things, but some stuff just went right past her. Telling her that Tamarisk actually existed would be like telling her leprechauns had moved in next door.
Mom had never been big on the whole Tamarisk thing. She would smile when Becky talked about it and she even participated in a few of the stories, but Becky always got the impression that she did this to be a good mom rather than because it interested her in any way. That was totally fine with Becky. She wouldn’t have expected her mother to have the exact same interests as she did.
Her dad, though, was crazy about Tamarisk. Of course that was the case—Tamarisk was his idea in the first place. But he didn’t just seem to enjoy it because it was something he could do with her. He seemed totally into it. All Becky ever had to do to get her father’s attention was mention something about some part of the kingdom—anything about it at all, really—and he was locked in. She probably could have called him out of meetings at work to talk about the king’s peace summit with the Thorns or what the princess planned to wear to the upcoming luaka concert. He instantly became like a little kid when they created stories at bedtime, and there were more than a few occasions when Mom had to call up to him to remind him that Becky needed to get to sleep.
The expression on his face when Becky whispered to him that Tamarisk was real was classic. Becky knew that he wouldn’t have any idea what she was talking about and that he would definitely want to talk about it further. That’s why she told him on her way out the door. Let him try to figure it out for a while. It would serve him right for telling her he was “giving up.” Of course, eventually she’d let him know what was going on. He’d really want to know. It would probably make his year. She could relate to that.
They ran into a ton of traffic on the way back, which made Becky incredibly antsy, but Al eventually got them home. Fortunately, it was late enough that Becky could just jump in the shower and then tell her mom she was going to bed.
Before they’d parted, Miea had taught Becky a method involving a kind of meditation that created a path between home and Tamarisk. Miea told her that she had it on “good authority” that the technique would work and get her into Tamarisk itself, not that place where they’d met last night.
Now it was time to try it out. Within minutes, she would be walking around in the world of her wildest imagination.
Before beginning the meditation, Becky got ready for bed. She blew her hair dry and put on her favorite sleeping T-shirt, an oversized one featuring Orlando Bloom as Legolas from the Lord of the Rings movies. She wondered if she was going to appear in Tamarisk exactly as she appeared in her bedroom. If so, she should probably dress more formally. She couldn’t very well show up in a queen’s palace in a T-shirt. At the same time, she’d feel really stupid putting on a cocktail dress to go to bed, and if her mother came into her room while she was doing this for any reason, she’d think Becky had lost her mind. She’d have to hope that whatever magic it was that allowed her to get to Tama-risk in the first place would allow her to look presentable when she got there.
Becky sat on the edge of the bed and focused on clearing her mind the way Miea had told her to do it. First, she had to visualize the events of the day and then imagine shutting off each one of them. One by one, her father’s face, her mother and Al in the car, Kayla and Matt in Kayla’s room, and the traffic on the highway appeared to her and she dimmed them back to the darkness. Then she had to lift herself onto the path. This required concentrating on the nothingness behind her eyelids in such a way that she could feel herself moving into it, as though her body were actually traveling into this dark space. Then, once she found herself moving, she needed to bring the vision of Tama-risk to mind. She needed to see Miea as she saw her the night before, and the land as she had always envisioned it. These images emerged from the blank space now and Becky could feel herself moving toward them. The temptation to open her eyes to gaze upon this other world was overwhelming, but Becky knew she needed to resist it. Miea had made it very clear that she would know when she was truly in Tamarisk. Only then could she stop the meditation.
But while the picture of the world became clearer—Becky had a very vivid sense of this place from years ago and it all came rushing back to her now—she didn’t get the idea that she was there. In fact, she no longer felt the sense of movement. Instead, it seemed that she had only drawn a picture in her mind. It was an especially bright and especially detailed picture, but it continued to feel like a picture and nothing more. Maybe this was part of the process. Maybe this was some kind of barrier that she needed to cross. Becky kept her eyes closed, retained her focus, and willed herself through the barrier.
Nothing changed. After several minutes, it became obvious that nothing was ever going to change. Becky opened her eyes and saw her room and her things. She looked down to find Legolas looking back at her. She was certain she’d done everything Miea told her to do. She’d felt herself moving just the way Miea had said she would. But in the end, she wasn’t any closer to Tamarisk than she had been when she was on the highway.
Becky felt the excitement she’d been carrying with her since last night drain away. Why wasn’t she able to visit with Miea tonight? Did Miea need to do something on her end to make this happen? Maybe she’d been so busy with everything going on in the palace today that she hadn’t had time to leave the door open or whatever.
Becky hoped that was the case.
If it wasn’t, then last night was regrettably a once-in-a-lifetime event.
“The minister of trade is here for your meeting, Your Majesty. Should I show her and her staff to the small conference room?”
“Please tell the minister that we will hold our meeting in the garden, Sorbus.”
“The garden, Your Majesty?”
“Is there something wrong with that? It’s a gorgeous day and the goal of this afternoon’s meeting is to exchange ideas. I think my ideas will come more freely in the garden than they would in the conference room.”
For a moment, Sorbus looked at Miea as though he were worried about her. Then his eyes softened and he said, “I think the garden is an excellent idea. I’ll set them up. Should I give you ten minutes?”
“No reason to keep the minister waiting. Tell her I’ll be there in two.”
Miea had woken up this morning feeling as though she’d slept for twenty hours. She could barely wait to get started on the day. Her schedule was full—when wasn’t her schedule full?—but she found herself going from appoin
tment to appointment with alacrity, spurred by the remarkable encounter of the night before.
Her name was Becky. She was fourteen years old, had shoulder-length brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a soft, round face, and she came from a place called Moorewood, Connecticut. Her very existence changed everything. Miea had asked herself any number of big questions about her world for as long as she could remember. The biggest one had always been the most impossible to answer: how did we get here? This wasn’t the kind of question that most of her fellows were interested in pursuing. Even her father seemed baffled by Miea’s fascination with it. To all of them, you simply accepted that you had a place in the world and let the larger mysteries remain mysteries.
Now Miea had an answer, though. At the very least, she had part of an answer. There was another presence out there last night—the thing that told her to wait and that showed her the path was definitely not her father. That presence had something to do with her meeting Becky; it even seemed to suggest that it was important that she do so. There were messages here she’d only begun to hear. What Miea knew already, though, was that meeting Becky opened her to a new way of looking at the universe. Knowing that there was a force out there that had willed her into being—even if that force seemed to be just a bright teenaged girl—suggested an order to the world that Miea couldn’t be sure of before. With the knowledge of this order came a new sense of inspiration and, for reasons that weren’t entirely clear to her yet, a new sense of optimism.
Therefore, Miea approached the new day with relish—no part of it more than the part she’d dreaded only the night before.
“Sterilization is not an option I am willing to consider,” she told Thuja. The words of her father last night—that part of the conversation felt just like him— echoed in her mind as she said it.
The man lowered his eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“You shouldn’t be sorry to hear that I refuse to order the elimination of several unique species in our kingdom.”
