by Asotir
She turned about and sighed out loud. ‘What a wind! I hope none of my things blows away. I would hate to lose anything. They are all so precious to me,’ she said. Then she went in.
Tang-Tang growled at Falco again. He was still wild from playing down on the rocks and Falco could see his teeth all bloody. On his throat two metal disks hung and made a little metal sound when they hit. Tang, tang. Tang, tang. Probably that was why she called him that. Tang, tang was probably the last thing the seagulls ever heard.
‘Tang-Tang? Tang-Tang! Come in here, silly puppy!’
Tang-Tang gave Falco another growl, like, ‘I’ll see you later,’ and went inside.
For a while Falco hung onto the laths and looked out on the sunshine. Rayn’s sheets and things blew on the line. Then one of her things, it hugged her breasts and she called it a camisole, it took off from the line and went flying.
It landed on the grass. It moved a little in the wind, like it was alive.
He couldn’t hear anything in the house. By then Rayn and Greta and Tang-Tang had gone into the kitchen or someplace. Probably she was giving Greta more food. She was always giving her food.
Falco crept across the lawn where the camisole lay fluttering. It was hot red like it was on fire. He almost picked it up but he wasn’t sure it was okay for him to touch it. The wind blew at it again. He followed, and the camisole hopped to the edge of the cliff. Then it blew over.
He lay down on his belly and looked over the cliff.
The camisole was caught on a rock where there was a little dirt and a weed or something was trying to grow out of nothing. It was down a little past the Red Step.
Something pushed Falco from behind. It was Giorgio.
‘Hey, who let you loose?’ Giorgio wasn’t supposed to be off his tether, not ever. Rayn got sore when he got free. But maybe he chewed himself free. He did that sometimes. He butted Falco and Falco petted him. Giorgio smelled like the green things at the wood’s edge that he liked to eat. Falco liked the feel of his wooly coat, it tickled. Giorgio was his friend. He was probably his only friend.
Falco sat on the landing and looked down. The camisole was still hanging onto the rock and the weed.
Giorgio started to go out onto the landing but Falco pulled him back.
‘No, Giorgio, go back, it’s not safe, how many times do I have to tell you, are you dumb or something? The steps are rotten. Dad says. If you go on the steps you’ll fall on the rocks and break your neck. I’m not allowed there either and I’m ten times smarter than you are. Come on.’
He hauled on the lamb’s collar and dragged him back across the lawn. He tied him up again and moved him to another peg in the shade by the woods where the good green stuff grew.
Through the glass doors he thought he saw Rayn looking out. He turned away and petted Giorgio. He acted like nothing was going on. When he looked back she wasn’t there, so maybe he was wrong.
He went back to the landing and stared at her camisole. It fluttered in the breeze, taunting him.
If he lay on his stomach on that step down there, he might be able to reach it. Rayn had gone down and come back up okay. She even had Tang-Tang with her, and the dog was as big as Falco all by himself.
He took a step onto the landing.
The old boards creaked and rocked in the wind. He wanted to step back but Rayn’s words wouldn’t leave his head. I hope none of my things blows away. I would hate to lose anything. They are all so precious to me, she said. If he could get the camisole for her, maybe she’d give him a kiss. Sometimes she did give him a kiss, after all. It wasn’t like she only hit him all the time.
‘What do you think, Juniper Tree? Should I?’
The Juniper Tree bristled in the wind. It didn’t seem too fond of the idea. But Falco had already made up his mind. He was thinking about Rayn.
He went down the steps, one at a time. He was clinging to the rail and being as light as he could. The stairs swung out from the cliff and rocked back. It gave him a kind of sick feeling in his stomach.
The seagulls soared by, crying.
‘No, I can’t fly like you. I don’t have wings.’
But he heard something else in his head. It was like an old song he heard a long time back and forgot, but then it came back:
Sventola, Falco, sventola.
Then he felt lighter and his throat stopped choking so tight. He looked out over the water when he stepped across the Red Step. It was like if he didn’t look at it, the Red Step wouldn’t know he was there.
He lay down on the step. He slid beneath the outer rail. He had to slide out farther. Straight down below the waves smashed the rocks to foam. Some spray blew up on him. It tickled and tasted salty.
He reached but couldn’t get to it. He had to crawl out more. His shirt was pulled out of his belt and the edge of the step scraped his belly-button. He was hanging so far out his legs came up like he was going to blow away. And the steps creaked and swung way out, but his hand moved closer and the camisole wrapped around his hand.
He twisted back onto the step. He clung to it and held the camisole against his face. It was softer than anything. It smelled like her. It smelled like her towels in her bathroom after she took one of her long baths and then she rubbed the towel all over herself up and down and in between.
He went back up. On the way he saw the nut on the Red Step was gone. The bolt was there but the nut that held the iron onto the bolt was missing. The iron bracket bounced up and down on the bolt. Sometimes it bounced so high it lifted clean off. That must have been what Rayn was doing when she knelt down and felt around there. She must have seen that the nut was gone and she was trying to find it to put it back on. That must’ve been what happened.
All the same Falco had a sick feeling in his gut all the way across the lawn and up onto the terrace and into the house. Just as he had figured, Rayn was in the kitchen. He couldn’t see Greta anywhere or the white dog either.
Falco hung around the kitchen door. He felt bashful. He felt like a fool. What was she supposed to do when he gave it to her? He stared at the camisole in his hands. It burned like fire. Maybe he ought to keep it. Maybe he ought to put it inside his pillowcase. But she’d miss it when she went out to get the wash. She’d miss it now and later she’d find it in his room and call him a thief and then he’d be in it good.
He let go of the door and walked into the kitchen. She was making soup in a vat on the stove. She turned around and saw him and her eyes lit up like she was surprised.
‘Well now.’ That was all she said.
Falco couldn’t say a word. He looked down and away and he pulled the camisole out from behind his back and held it up to her.
‘Did you find this, little sir?’
He nodded.
‘It blew off the line? You chased it and brought it back to me?’
He was looking at her ankles and her legs. He didn’t dare look up to her face. There was laughter in her voice. Was she laughing at him or was she only happy to get the camisole back? Falco couldn’t tell.
He heard her put the spoon and oven mitt on the counter. She bent down so that her face came very close to him.
‘What a good little sir you can be sometimes. You may kiss me now.’ That startled him and he looked up. She had her face turned with her cheek toward him.
He leaned forward into the nest of scent that her body breathed out and he let his lips touch her cheek.
Rayn laughed. ‘Well now little sir, what do you call that? Do you call that kissing? What a weakling little man you’ll be! Here, let me show you how the thing is done.’
Then she held his shoulders and kissed him on the mouth. He felt her tongue licking his lips before she let him go.
He stumbled back. His face was on fire. He could hardly breathe.
She stood and let the camisole hang free in her hands. He leaned against the counter. He didn’t know anything anymore. He just stared at her.
Every once in a while she let him kiss her. Ev
ery once in a while she kissed him back – like that. Falco had thought about running away plenty of times. But even when he put his things together and was all ready to go, the thought of Rayn’s kisses kept him there. He knew he could never get away from her. He didn’t want to.
Then her face changed.
‘But look here,’ she said. She held out the camisole. There was some dirt on it from the cliff.
‘Just how did you know when this fell from the line, little sir? Were you peeking again? Or did you come sneaking around to touch my things, my personal and intimate things? What a naughty boy you are. A dirty boy, a sneak. You are peeking all the time, aren’t you? Look at your hands, how filthy and vile. You stained my beautiful cami. I must throw it away now. I must destroy it. I must burn it in hot flames. All because of you.’
She caught his chin and twisted his face back and up and made him look at her.
‘You know what this means, don’t you, little sir?’
He nodded.
‘What does it mean?’
‘It means you have to punish me.’
‘You bring it on yourself, you know. I don’t enjoy doing it. You only get what you deserve, little sir. You only get what you deserve.’
She slapped him and he fell against the stove and his knees gave out and he slid down on the tile.
She helped him up. She took a rag out of her apron.
‘Oh, little sir, why do you make me punish you all the time? Why must you be so bad? Blow.’
He blew his nose into the rag and she sat him on a stool at the counter. She tied a napkin under his chin.
‘Well now, I’ll get you something to warm you up. Would you like some black bean soup?’
He nodded.
‘Say please. Or there’ll be no more food for you today.’
‘Please, Mommie.’
‘Don’t call me mommie, little sir. I’m not your mommie. What is my name?’
‘Rayn.’
‘That’s right, my name is Rayn, and that is what the little sir must call me.’
She brought the ladle and poured it into the bowl. The steam-cloud swam in his face.
‘Don’t eat it right away, it’s piping hot!’
She went back to the stove.
He dipped his spoon and fork two-fisted into the black soup. Rayn turned back to the counter and her apron brushed against his arm. Her hand tipped the soup bowl and it spilled into his lap. He pushed back from the counter, shouting, and Rayn’s face leaned in above him.
‘Well now little sir, that was a naughty thing to do!’
And somehow the stool tipped and he fell. He got up, wiping at the heavy greasy black on his pants.
‘You spilled it! My, that must burn! Quick, go to the bathroom and wash up!’
He ran away.
In the bathroom he shut the door behind him. He turned on the light and peeled off his T-shirt and fell rolling on the floor kicking his pants off over his sneakers, trying to get it off before it burned even more.
Rayn came up outside the door.
‘Little sir, are you all right?’
He heard her put her key in the door and lock it.
He stood quite still at the sound of that click. Now he was locked in the bathroom with his dirty clothes. Already the dark stains of the bean-soup on his pants began to smell rotten and sour.
He waited but Rayn didn’t come back. Once he scratched at the door but she wouldn’t answer.
He sat on the rug and leaned his head against the toilet and stared at the door looming high above him.
* * *
IT WAS DARK that night when Bjorn came home. It got dark early those days. The sun fell away like a fire going out in the sea, and then the sky turned red with flames, and then the colors drained out of the clouds and the stars peeped out. Around White Quill the woods were black, as black as though they marked the end of the world. Then lights came shining behind the tree trunks and the tires came crunching up the drive.
The black luxury car pulled up behind the house.
Bjorn came in and set his case on the chair by the door. He was taking off his coat when Rayn slunk up behind him with a fresh drink.
‘Welcome home, Mr Hansen.’
She coiled her arms around and kissed him on the neck, biting his flesh a little with her teeth.
* * *
AFTER DRINKS, the family sat at table as usual. Bjorn sat at the head, Rayn beside him, and Greta across from them in her high chair. Falco’s chair was empty. Bjorn looked at it and shook his head. Rayn let her fingers tickle the back of his neck.
‘You can’t make him eat, you know.’
‘I don’t know what’s gotten into the boy lately.’
‘He’ll be better come Thanksgiving.’
‘No, he’s always jealous when we don’t make him Thanksgiving King.’
Rayn tied a napkin round Greta’s chin, a black one with green and golden dinosaurs on it. ‘And do you know what these are, my darling?’
‘Di-no-sawers.’
‘Yes! Oh you clever clever girl!’ And she kissed Greta.
Rayn left and came back carrying the soup-vat. She dipped the ladle into the vat and stirred.
‘Oh, is it your black bean soup?’
‘Mind the ham-bones, it’s not strained yet.’
Bjorn frowned at the stairs. ‘Falco! Falco, come down and eat!’
But Falco was locked in the bathroom, sitting in his sneakers and soup-soiled underpants.
Bjorn plucked a bone out of his spoon.
‘Tang-Tang! Tang-Tang!’
Bjorn tossed the ham-bone under the table and the white dog nosed his way in between the chairs .
Greta put her head below the table and watched Tang-Tang gnaw on the bone. Rayn laughed. Her voice was pure as bells.
‘You see, all our babies want their treats.’
She got up and walked to the bathroom door.
* * *
INSIDE, FALCO saw the glass knob rattle against the lock.
His dad’s voice sounded from far away. ‘What is it?’
Rayn’s voice answered, ‘The bathroom door is stuck.’
‘Hang on.’
Falco heard him join Rayn at the bathroom door.
The glass knob turned again. Through the door he heard their voices.
‘It isn’t stuck,’ his dad said. ‘It’s locked.’
‘Well, why would he do such a thing?’
‘Falco, are you in there? I’ve just about had enough of your pranks, young man. Now unlock the door and come to supper.’
Falco looked down at himself. What could he say? He was dirty, naked, shameful. All he wanted to do was get away. High over the tub he looked at the small frosted window. He climbed on the edge of the tub. Too high. He couldn’t reach it.
He heard his dad’s voice again. He sounded mad now. ‘Falco, open this door!’
‘It’s no use, he won’t answer. Another of his tricks. Didn’t I tell you about him?’
Falco knelt inside the tub. He took hold of the shower curtain and started to pull it round.
The rings of the curtain dragged on the shower rod, screeching.
His dad’s voice boomed, ‘We’ll have to get your keys and unlock it if he’s going to pull stunts like this.’
‘Well now, never mind. I can bear to use the washroom upstairs if I have to. It isn’t worth the fuss, I put up with his antics all day long.’
Falco huddled in the tub. He jammed his fingers in his ears and hummed inside and drowned out their voices.
Overhead the high window hung half-open, and through it he could hear birds singing outside. If only he could go out there beyond the glass where the night air stirred and lifted away from the house, out beyond the dark leaves where stars were shining, and the air grew thick with birds’ songs, and higher still where the last leaves fell away the heavens lay wide open, glittering in another place…
* * *
DEEP IN THE NIGHT Falco woke up. He had fallen
asleep in the bathtub and the back of his head hurt. He sat up and rubbed his head. Something was changed but he didn’t know what it was right away. Then he saw.
The bathroom door was open.
A little light spilled from the hall onto the door. There didn’t seem to be anybody out there.
Now he knew what woke him up. He remembered sounds like clink and clunk when the door unlocked and opened. That was what woke him.
He stepped into the hallway. The night was cold on his bare legs. He went to the kitchen. He wasn’t hungry but his mouth was dry. He didn’t dare open the refrigerator door though. The light might bring Tang-Tang. He got a glass and some water from the tap. He drank and drank.
He crept upstairs as soft as he could. The door to Rayn’s bedroom was open. Greta’s nightlight shone across the hall beneath her door.
The narrow steps to the attic creaked when he was halfway up but nobody came out to give him a beating.
He crawled under his blankets and poked his head out the foot. He clung to the iron footbar and looked out the window. Out on the Beak the Juniper Tree stood watch like always.
That was one Saturday for Falco. It wasn’t the nicest but it wasn’t the worst either. There was really only one thing about that Saturday that made it stand out. It wasn’t going onto the cliff steps, though that was the first time he ever did it. No, what made that Saturday different was a thought that came into Falco’s head up in his room deep in the night, just before he fell back asleep.
The thought came out of nowhere. He must have dreamed it in the bathtub earlier, and he didn’t know what to make of it. But when he thought it, he shivered.
I’m only eight, he thought. Soon it’ll be my birthday and I’ll be nine. It will happen before then.
5
The week went by and Friday came and Rayn dressed up and made nice to me and touched me a lot. That always meant trouble. Then it was Saturday all over again.
TO FALCO it always seemed the school week flew by and the dark shadow of Friday and Saturday, those terrible two days, loomed closer and closer and swallowed him up before he could peep. And then the horrible Saturday itself came dawning, and though Falco woke early every Saturday, he kept himself close in his room for as long as he could.
In the gray early twilight he watched the Juniper Tree bending in the wind. Under the tree lay his Mother’s grave.
Falco stood on tiptoe on the end of his bed looking out the window at the Juniper Tree and his Mother’s marker. He ducked back inside.
