The Book of Nonsense

by David Michael Slater

  “We did go out,” Daphna sighed. “But Dad dropped me back home. I was safe and sound upstairs taking a nap.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know that! Where is your father, then? Where’s Dex?”

  At that moment, Dexter slouched in through the back door looking as dazed as Daphna felt. There were snarls of crumbled leaves in his wet hair and patches of moss clinging to his bedraggled clothes.

  “Good Lord, Dexter!” Latty yelped. She was a petite woman, but formidable when worried, which was always. Dex didn’t give her the chance to say anything more as he ducked quickly into the laundry room and shut the door.

  “You’ll catch your death in this weather—with no jacket!” Latty scolded, anyway. “Summer is over! What’s going on, Dexter? Why won’t you check in these past few days?! I’ve been worried about you!”

  “I fell asleep,” Dex said when the door opened again. He came into the kitchen wearing sweats and rubbing his head with a towel.

  He wondered when Latty was going to figure out he wasn’t about to report his whereabouts to her every five minutes, not any more, anyway. Being a worrywart was her problem, not his.

  Dex had considered skipping dinner, even at the risk of Latty calling out the National Guard to search for him, but he knew if he avoided his father much longer, he’d have some serious explaining to do, if he didn’t already.

  With no further explanation, and without so much as a nod to his sister, Dex sagged into his seat. Daphna was rubbing her eyes and seemed to take no notice of him anyway.

  Latty approached the table with a troubled look on her open, pink face, causing both twins to cringe. Even her short frizzled hair looked anxious. “Kids,” she said, looking between them, “I know I ask a lot, but I—you know I—”

  “— promised your mother,” Dex and Daphna sighed.

  Latty, they knew quite well, had promised their mother that if anything ever happened to her, she’d look after them. The thing was, up until this very moment, the guilt induced by those three words had always worked to bring them into line.

  Latty looked alarmed, but the back door opened again.

  “Hello, Latona!” Milton called, stepping inside. “Daph told me you were out shopping when I got in.”

  “Welcome home, Milton!” Latty replied. “Had to get your favorite together. Soup’s on!”

  But Milton’s attention was on Dexter.

  “Hello, Dex!” he said, clapping Dexter on the shoulder in an extravagantly fatherly sort of way. He was overdoing it by a long shot, Daphna thought, probably because he wasn’t sure how to approach his son after being so rudely blown off. She felt a stab of irritation with her brother for making what should be a simple hello so complicated.

  Dex wasn’t quite sure what to make of the greeting. It seemed phony. Milton Wax wasn’t one of those touchy-feely, I-love-you blubbering kind of dads, which was something Dex actually appreciated.

  “Hey, Dad,” he replied, trying to sound totally bored.

  “Hey, what’d you get for the rest of the books?” Daphna asked, annoyed by her brother’s needlessly indifferent tone.

  “Well,” Milton answered, tucking himself into his place at the table, “Sold a nice copy of Yeats’ Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen.” Then he smiled and said, “And I did drive a hard bargain over at that new place, your ABC.”

  Daphna looked at her father incredulously, but then his still glassy eyes fluttered a bit, and his face fell.

  “You look exhausted, Milton!” Latty cried, setting down the tureen of soup. “Why didn’t you come right in to rest? What is wrong with everybody today?”

  “I’m fine, Latona,” Milton replied, but rather unconvincingly. “I’m a bit tired, I suppose. Perhaps I’ll turn in early this evening.”

  “Perhaps definitely. Eat up and go have a hot soak. Then straight to bed.”

  Milton didn’t argue. Instead he said,“Oh, Daph, speaking of that new place, the old bookbuyer, Mr. Rash, he’d like you to stop by tomorrow morning to lend a hand, or your eyes, as it turns—”

  “Rash?! ” Latty looked horrified. “His name is Rash? That’s—What an awful name.”

  “Why me?! ” Daphna demanded. “It’s not fair with all the reading I do at the R & R!” Which reminded her, “And I’m already supposed to go there tomorrow! Make Dex!”

  “He wouldn’t want me,” Dex said, scowling at his sister. “And anyway, valuable books always fall to pieces if I even look at them. You can’t rely on anything old if you ask me.”

  It seemed to Daphna that this last comment was directed toward their father, but maybe she was just imagining her brother’s peevishness. He’d damaged a small library full of fragile books before he quit having anything to do with their father’s livelihood. Whatever the case, Milton didn’t seem to notice Dex’s comment. What Milton did notice was Daphna. He stared fixedly at her, his forehead creased with consternation.

  “Mr. Rash merely requires some assistance,” he said. “He’s blind and needs some sharp eyes.”

  “But why my eyes?” Daphna complained, wondering at her father’s oddly un-sharp eyes and rather monotone explanation.

  “Don’t you want to learn how the place really works, especially after all the time you’ve spent there this summer?”

  “Where I spend my free time is up to me!” Daphna roared, surprised at her own anger. “It’s not my fault Wren and Teal get to go to camp while I’m stuck around here all day with nothing to do! And I wouldn’t even know if a friend called me since Dexter can’t be bothered to write down a message!”

  To Dex, his sister’s reaction to a perfectly reasonable comment seemed excessive. She was losing it, and the whole thing was, frankly, quite entertaining. She was probably just embarrassed about spending her summer days in a bookstore—she should be anyway.

  “If anyone ever called you,” he cracked, “I’d call the six o’clock news.”

  “Oh, shut up, Dexter!”

  “Daphna,” said Milton.

  “Dad, you gave him that book for free! ”

  Daphna bit her tongue. She’d just admitted that she’d been spying.

  In response, Milton only blinked at her. He looked startled, but also much more lucid. But then he exploded. “Damn it, Daphna!” he hollered, “You’ll go because I said so! Nine a.m. sharp. Tomorrow morning!”

  Tears shot to Daphna’s eyes. She turned to look for help from Latty, but she wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. Daphna hadn’t even seen her leave. She was at a loss. This was absolutely not Milton Wax. Milton Wax did not yell. Milton Wax did not swear. Milton Wax had never once in his life as a parent uttered the words, ‘Because I said so,’ to either of his children, in any tone of voice.

  Even he seemed to recognize the unprecedented nature of this eruption. His mouth was open. His lips were quivering. “I—I’m—” he stuttered.

  Daphna didn’t give her father the chance to apologize. She sprinted from the room.

  “Dexter,” Milton said, turning to him when she’d gone, “you’ll go along, too. It won’t kill you to help your sister this one time.”

  Dex glared at his father. He was only doing this so Daphna wouldn’t think she was being picked on alone! Dexter refused to melt down, though, even if his father had scared him, too. Dex wanted to lash out, to tell his father to take a flying leap, but he couldn’t do it. The words just wouldn’t come.

  “Whatever,” Dex managed in a slightly tremulous voice.

  He got up and walked out of the room, wondering if even a shred of dignity was left to his name.

  some fun

  It wasn’t even six o’clock, but both Wax children were in their beds. Daphna burst into sobs the second she reached her room and cried for nearly fifteen minutes. She wished her father would just go away again if this was how he was going to be when he came home.

  There was one good thing about her fit, though. It wiped her out. As soon as it was over, Daphna fell headlong into deep, dreamless sleep.

  Dext
er had no such luck. If he was falling headlong into anything, it was despair. He collapsed on his bed and lay there simmering for hours. There was no way he was going to that bookstore. He knew his sister.

  At some point, she’d ask if she could poke around and try to make him help the old man, whoever he was, probably in the name of “fairness,” which seemed to be her favorite word sometimes—like she knew the first thing about what was fair and unfair. And now even mild-mannered Milton Wax was getting aggressive and telling him what to do! The tension burned inside until he felt ready to combust.

  At one a.m., Dexter decided enough was enough. He went upstairs and hurried past Latty’s room to his father’s door. He was going to tell Milton Wax to take that flying leap.

  Dex took a deep breath, then softly pushed the door open.

  “I’m failing. I know it,” his father whispered.

  This simple statement sent a torrent of relief through Dex’s clenched muscles. At once, all desire to condemn his father faded away. “No, Dad, I—I—”

  “It’s all wrong. I can feel it,” Milton moaned.

  Dex didn’t respond this time because his father wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to himself, in his sleep.

  The streetlight outside threw enough light into the room to make the portrait of Dex’s mother visible, so he pondered her thoughtful, oval face for a moment. It was something he rarely ever did, even though there were pictures of her all over the house.

  She had petite features like Latty. They kind of looked alike, except his mother had long, flowing hair and bluish eyes. She was pretty, and despite the deep worry lines spreading out over her brow and from the corners of her mouth, she looked happy. Fatigued, but happy. She’d been somewhere near fifty when Dex and Daphna were born, which he knew was really late in life to have kids.

  “I’m botching it,” Milton whined, startling Dex from his contemplation. “I know It,” he added. “I—I—I can’t quite—I’m just not sure—I am not a bad man.” A horrible sound, a wretched lament of some sort, escaped his throat.

  Dex remained silent, simply watching as his father continued to mutter. Finally, he walked out of the room and headed back downstairs. He hurled himself on his bed and stayed there for the rest of the night, dipping in and out of a corrosive, embittered sleep.

  At breakfast, Latty set two bowls of bitesized, choke-proof mixed fruit on the table next to a cereal box and then informed the twins that their father had left an hour earlier on a local book scouting venture. He’d gotten wind of two high-end estate sales, which were often goldmines for rare books. She said he might be gone for most of the day. Then she said she had some errands to run.

  The twins both sensed something was off. Latty sounded even more nervous than normal.

  “Promise you’ll leave a note if you go anywhere,” Latty insisted, wrapping herself in a shawl at the door. Neither of the twins responded. Neither was in the mood. “Please,” Latty said, nearly begging. “Just for my peace of mind.”

  Dex rolled his eyes.

  “Dexter,” Latty asked softly, “Why is this so—?”

  “We’re not babies,” Daphna declared. Normally it was easier just to promise, but right now she simply didn’t feel like it.

  “I know you’re not babies,” Latty assured the twins. “It’s just that every time you two leave my sight, I’m certain something awful is going to happen to you. Please—it’s more for me than you.”

  “No,” was Dexter’s adamant response.

  “Okay,” Daphna conceded. Latty’s eyes had dialed directly into panic mode.

  Dex snorted.

  “Thank you, dear,” Latty said to Daphna. Then she looked at Dex. “You don’t want me wandering around all day looking for you, do you, Dex?”

  “FINE!” Dex shouted. “I’ll call you every eight steps I take, okay?! ”

  Latty looked uncertain how to reply to this. She decided on, “Thank you, but every few hours would do nicely.”

  But then she added, to Daphna, “Oh, listen, I know your father asked you to go to that bookshop to help Mr. Rash, but I realized this morning why his name upset me so much last night. Book scouting is a small world. Your mother and I knew an Asterius Rash, a long time ago. He is a dishonest businessman and a notoriously unstable character.

  “I didn’t get a chance to speak to your dad about it this morning, but I’m sure he’d agree that it’s best you don’t go. In fact, Daphna, I’d seriously think about staying away from that place altogether. I know you think I worry about you too much, but in this case, actually, I insist because, like I said—”

  “Sure!” Daphna said. “I understand. Thanks for looking out for me.”

  Latty grinned, obviously surprised. Then she said, “Go have some fun. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Then she winked, turned, and left with a bit of a jump in her step.

  “That does it,” Dex spat, spiking his spoon on the table. He’d been planning to wait for his father to announce the grand birthday plan so he could flat-out refuse to go along.

  “But he mentioned my birthday yesterday to that old man!” Daphna protested. “And Latty just—”

  “So?” Dex sneered. “He probably forgot the second he heard about these stupid sales. Latty’s going out to get presents right now so she can hide them under his bed. You know it!”

  Before Daphna could respond, the phone rang. She grabbed it with a snarl, but brightened up when she heard her father’s voice. Surely, he’d have something big to announce. Maybe the estate sales were a ruse.

  Instead, Milton said, “Hi, Daph. I just wanted to make sure you won’t be late for your appointment with Mr. Rash.”

  “Oh, Dad,” said Daphna, “Latty just told us we can’t go. She remembered him from when she used to work with Mom. She said he’s nuts or something.”

  “She what?” Milton replied. “No, she must have him confused with someone else. He was totally professional yesterday.”

  “What? ”

  “Daphna,” Milton said, “I told him you’d be there. You know a scout’s reputation is his biggest asset. I’ve got to run,” he abruptly concluded. Then he hung up.

  Daphna jammed the phone down. “What? ” she demanded when she saw the smirk on Dexter’s face.

  “Going then?”

  “You’re supposed to come, too, Dexter,” Daphna retorted. “I heard Dad last night, so don’t act like you don’t know anything about it. It’s not like I really want you to go, you know. I know you’d rather die than set foot in a bookstore, but I really am creeped out by that Rash guy, not to mention that sicko, Emmet, who works in the front of the store. Some really weird things happened there yesterday. You have no idea. He’s—”

  “Sorry,” Dex interrupted, “I’ve got other plans.”

  “No you don’t! You’re just going to mess around in the park all day!”

  “I’m meeting my French tutor,” Dex said. “Forgot to mention that yesterday.”

  Oh, Daphna was hot now.

  “Dexter,” she fumed, “I know you lied about getting a tutor to get Latty off your back! I’m not an idiot!”

  “Says who?” Dex growled.

  “You’re the one that failed French!”

  So Daphna knew about that. His first ‘ F’. Scraping by had been getting harder and harder with all the newfangled “On-demand, Performance” tests in middle school.

  “Mind your own business,” was the best Dex could come up with.

  “Love to,” Daphna replied. “What do I care if you want to screw up your life?”

  “And what do I care if you have no life to screw up?” countered Dex. Boy, did that feel good. “It’s classic that you turned into a book freak,” he added, getting going, “and now Dad doesn’t care about you anymore, either. Who’s not an idiot now?”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Daphna,” said Dex, “he cares more about books than his own kids’ birthday! It’s not like he ever makes any money scouting! You know we hav
e enough from Mom to get by.”

  Daphna ground her teeth. She was being worn down, and surprisingly quickly.

  “Fine,” she said, “go wherever it is you go!” Before Dex could reply, she added, “But I really would avoid France if I were you.”

  Dex leaned across the table and laced his sister with the most hostile glare he could manage. To his horror, she not only met, but held, his gaze. It took effort, but he stood up calmly, got his sweatshirt from the laundry room and then opened the back door.

  “Au revoir,” Dex said, and he was gone.

  aloft and amazed

  Steaming, Daphna put the breakfast dishes into the sink—Dexter’s too, of course—then reluctantly headed out the door for the ABC.

  As she walked under the morning’s overcast sky, Daphna couldn’t help but think about her father. Not a bit of what Dexter said was true. He was just trying to be cruel. Dex was probably as smart as she was, smarter when it came to remembering exact details, if he cared about them, that is. But he was simply never going to get it together until he started actually wanting to. How complicated of a concept was that?

  Daphna tried to elbow what Dex said out of her mind, but the words gnawed at her. The fact was she was furious if their dad really did forget their birthday. Maybe there was something to part of what Dex had said, but she wasn’t going to wrack her brains to figure out how much and which part. And that crack about her having no life! What a jerk!

  She had lots of friends at school. Practically every day people sought her out, even Pops! Daphna doubted there was anyone in her entire grade who didn’t know who she was, while hardly a soul knew Dexter Wax existed. It was Dexter who had no clue how to make friends. Wren and Teal were Pops, and two of the biggest! So what if she never spent time with them after school?

  Daphna wasn’t silly enough to think she was a Pop. She could never be as pretty and stylish and sophisticated as any of them, even if she sometimes thought she looked a bit like Teal. But Wren and Teal were still her friends. Anyway, she had too much homework in the Talented and Gifted classes to hang out after school. If Wren and Teal had been around this summer, she’d have seen them once in a while. All of this was so upsetting that Daphna completely forgot about Rash until she opened the front door of the shop.