Up High in the Trees

by Kiara Brinkman

  I don’t really know why. I take fast steps and try to walk next to her.

  Dad’s waiting for us in the kitchen. He’s sitting with his elbows on the table. Between his elbows, there’s his black coffee mug with steam twisting up. I walk over to him. Dad grabs me and holds me against his loud chest. I put my hand over his heart and feel it beating. Dad stands up with me. He walks in circles around the table.

  Goddamn it, he says. He sets me down and looks at me with his hands on my shoulders and then he hugs me too hard.

  Mother used to put her hand on my forehead and say, My son, you’re going to live for a very long time—I can feel all of the life inside of you.

  I closed my eyes and I could feel it, too. I could feel my chest getting warmer and warmer and that was the life inside of me.

  In the morning, Dad asks me if I want to go to school. I can stay home with him since he’s not going to his office today. In his office, Dad’s writing a book about music.

  Okay, I say, I’ll stay.

  Dad’s hair is messy. He’s wearing his pajamas, a xgreen T-shirt that says KISS ME I’M IRISH, and gray sweatpants.

  Hop on, Dad says. He gives me a piggyback ride down to the kitchen.

  I sit at the table and watch him make eggs.

  Your teacher called, he tells me. Dad doesn’t turn around. He keeps cooking the eggs.

  I stare at his back.

  Do you have a note for me? he asks.

  I tore it up, I say. I say the words fast to make them go away.

  Dad still doesn’t turn around.

  Well, he says, I made you an eye appointment this afternoon because your teacher thinks you might need glasses.

  Dad turns off the stove, but the eggs keep sizzling. He tips them out of the pan and onto my plate. Now the eggs are quiet.

  I need a haircut, I say.

  Dad rubs his face with his big hands and sits down at the table with me.

  You want Denise to cut your hair? Dad asks.

  I look at him. He takes a sip of his coffee.

  Yes, I say. Denise always cuts my hair. Can we go right now? I ask.

  Whenever you’re ready, Dad says.

  I don’t want to eat my eggs, so I run upstairs. Cass’s door is still closed. I want to knock and make her wake up, but if I do, then she’ll stop being nice, so I run past her door and down the hall to my room. I can lay out clean clothes by myself. I pick out jeans and my light blue sweatshirt that has the mean grizzly bear on the back. I set clean underwear and socks on top of the pile. Then I’m ready to get dressed.

  My jeans feel cold when I pull them on. I have to rub my legs to make them warmer. I hear Cass’s door open. She walks by and then comes back.

  What’re you doing? Cass asks. She holds on to the wall and leans into my room.

  Nothing, I say. I’m not going to school, I tell her, and I feel happy to say it. I run past Cass, down the stairs, to Dad.

  Dad’s lying facedown on the floor. His music is turned down low. I sit on Dad’s back like he’s a flat horse.

  What’s this music called? I ask him.

  Vivaldi, Dad says. He pushes himself up on his hands and knees.

  I hold on to his shoulders and he tries to buck me off. I let go and fall. Dad tickles me on the floor.

  You ready? he asks.

  I nod.

  Run upstairs and get my sneakers, says Dad.

  I go as fast as I can.

  I open the closet that was Dad and Mother’s together. I know there’s a secret door at the very back that goes into a low room called a crawl space, because Mother showed it to me. I reach my hand in, past all the clothes, and touch the doorknob. It feels cold.

  Dad’s sneakers are lined up on his side. Mother’s shoes are all packed up in brown boxes. I put my hand on the box that I know has Mother’s red slippers with the sequins. The red slippers were Mother’s favorite shoes to wear even though they were just slippers and not really shoes. Mother said if she went to a ball she would wear her red slippers. I want to hide the box in my closet so it will be mine and no one else will touch it.

  I go into the hall and look. Cass is not there. I walk with the box behind my back. I walk slow and quiet to my room, but then Cass is standing there, looking out my window.

  Oh, I say.

  Cass turns around.

  What do you have? she asks me.

  Nothing, I say.

  I back out of my room with the box behind my back.

  Sebby! Cass yells at me.

  I hold the box tight against my chest and run back to Mother’s room.

  Cass runs after me.

  Those aren’t yours, Cass says. Leave her stuff alone.

  I put Mother’s shoes back in the closet. Then I grab Dad’s sneakers. I push past Cass and run downstairs.

  Did you hear me? Cass shouts.

  Five steps from the bottom, I jump. I land and then fall forward on my knees, but I don’t drop Dad’s sneakers. I get up and run to him.

  Here, I say. I’m out of breath.

  Thanks, Dad says.

  Cass comes downstairs then.

  You get mad at me for taking him out of school and then you do the same thing, says Cass. No wonder he thinks it’s optional. Her voice is loud.

  Dad’s putting on his sneakers. Let’s talk about this later, he says.

  Cass turns and goes to the kitchen. Right, she says, later.

  I’m watching Dad’s face.

  Don’t worry about it, he says to me.

  We go out to the car. I reach up and hold Dad’s hand. He’s still wearing his T-shirt and sweatpants.

  Look, Dad says. He points at our tall tree in the front yard.

  It’s losing leaves and the ones that are still on it are reddish orange, colors like fire.

  The bell on the door jingles when Dad and I go in. Denise is sweeping brown hair into a pile on the floor. She stops to look at us.

  I haven’t seen you in forever, she says.

  Denise’s shop is called Guys and Dolls. A long time ago, she used to put makeup on actors in Chicago and fix their hair. She likes to make a small pinch in the air with her fingers and say, Look, honey, do you see this?—this is how close I was to marrying Sky Masterson.

  Good to see you, says Dad. Denise looks back down at the floor and sweeps again.

  I can see her face turning sad and I know that she’s remembering about Mother.

  Stephen, she says to Dad in a softer voice, how are you?

  I need a haircut, I say.

  Denise comes over and puts her hand on my head. She combs my hair with her fingers. It feels nice how she does that.

  Such beautiful hair, she says, it gets wasted on a boy. She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me over to one of the special chairs.

  I’ll take care of him, she says to Dad.

  Okay, Dad says, I’ll just sit and read. He points to the pile of magazines.

  Dad is shy because of what Denise did at one of Mother’s Christmas parties. Dad doesn’t like parties, so he drinks wine and then falls asleep sitting in a chair. Mother and Denise put pink curlers in Dad’s hair when he was sleeping. He woke up and drank more wine and then he let them finish. Mother told that story over and over again.

  Denise pumps the back of my chair and I go up. She wraps a silky smock around me and Velcros it behind my neck. I have to be still now. In the mirror, my face looks whiter and my eyes look darker.

  Denise sprays my hair with a water bottle. I close my eyes and listen to the scissors cutting. Denise knows I like the sound of the scissors so she doesn’t talk to me or ask me any questions.

  When she’s done, she takes off the smock and brushes the back of my neck with a brush that’s like a fat paintbrush to get off all the loose hairs.

  She lowers me down and I go to look in the bowl of prizes. There are lollipops, fuzzy stickers, and plastic rings. I look for an orange lollipop.

  Thank you, I hear Dad say.

  No problem, Denise
says.

  You should bring him in every two months or so, she tells him.

  I find my lollipop and turn around to look at them.

  How much do I owe you? asks Dad.

  Denise waves her hand and shakes her head.

  No, really, Dad says.

  Denise smiles. She looks very different from Mother. You can see she has big boobs under her blue sweater. I don’t know if Dad likes how Denise looks. Dad won’t really look at her. He keeps looking out the window.

  I’m going out for my coffee break, Denise says. I’ll walk you to your car.

  She puts up a sign in the front window that says BACK SOON and locks the door behind us. Next to Denise’s shop is the Laundromat that has a gumball machine and the Chinese restaurant, Don’t Wok on By.

  I think how if people see us together, they might think Denise is my Mom. I don’t like that. I want to run, but Dad grabs my hand. I walk faster, and try to pull him with me. Dad squeezes my hand harder.

  Stop, he whispers. We’re all the way over there, Dad says and points to our car in the middle of the parking lot. Cass put a CLINTON GORE sticker on Dad’s bumper, too. He doesn’t care.

  I’m headed this way, Denise says and nods at the Dunkin’ Donuts.

  Well, thank you, says Dad.

  Denise smiles again. Then she waves and walks the other way.

  Say thank you, Dad whispers to me.

  Thank you! I yell out to her.

  The doctor asks me if I’ve been having any trouble with my eyes.

  I shrug. Dad should’ve come in here with me to answer her questions.

  The doctor keeps smiling and she talks really slowly. She has a stretchy mouth. I don’t like her face.

  Okay, she says, first I’m going to look at the outside of your eyes and make sure they look healthy. She shines a light on me.

  I blink hard. I want to rub my eyes, but I can’t do that in front of her.

  How old are you now, Sebastian? she asks me.

  Eight, I tell her.

  She smiles too big. Okay, she says, I’m going to ask you to look at some letters. She walks across the room and pulls down a chart.

  Go ahead and read me the smallest row of letters you can see, she tells me.

  I squint at the chart. My eyes hurt. I feel hot in my cheeks and under my arms.

  Just do your best, the doctor says.

  I try. Then the doctor gives me lenses to look through and I keep trying to read the small letters.

  Okay, Sebastian, the doctor says, I’m going to go out and get your dad. She leaves me alone in the room.

  I look around. Hanging on the wall, there’s a pair of giant metal glasses. In one lens is a big, round clock. In the other, it says, Time to get your eyes checked!

  When the doctor comes back with Dad, she says, Sebastian, you are going to need glasses. Then she looks at Dad and says, I think Sebastian’s eye muscles may have tightened. It can happen when vision goes uncorrected for too long and the eyes try to overcompensate. His last visit was, let me see. She looks at her notes and then says, Over a year ago. We won’t know his exact prescription until the muscles relax.

  Dad looks down at his lap. His hands are folded neatly.

  The doctor tells me to go out to the waiting room. She needs to talk to Dad alone.

  There are Legos out there, she says, and books.

  I stand up and look at Dad. He nods. My chest feels tight and it’s hard to breathe. I can only take little breaths.

  I find things with my new glasses.

  On the sidewalk at the end of our driveway, there’s a dead butterfly getting eaten by ants. I lie down on my stomach to watch. My eyes still hurt, but I can see more now. I can see all the tiny ant legs walking over the butterfly.

  Leo comes with his big, red backpack on.

  What’re you doing? he asks. He stands there and waits for me.

  I can see his feet standing, waiting, but I don’t get up, so he leaves.

  I watch the ants. There are more and more, covering the butterfly and turning it black.

  The sky’s getting dark and the ants are harder to see. I have to squint at them. I feel cold, but I’m stuck. I need to watch until the butterfly is gone.

  Dad comes out to get me. I let him pick me up. He carries me inside like a baby. My face is cold. I reach up and put my hand on Dad’s cheek. I hold my hand there.

  Dad carries me upstairs and takes off my glasses and my shoes. He tucks me into bed with my clothes on.

  Before Mother married Dad, she was a girl who lived in a white house. She had a cat named Duncan and he was the same color white as the house. On the day Duncan died under the bushes in the backyard, Mother found his body and she ran.

  She was running and running to get the cat out of her head. She kept running to make him not dead and then she fell.

  I remember like I was floating there, watching.

  The lady with shiny gray hair helped Mother up. Mother’s hands were stinging and her knees were bloody and hot.

  Oh dear, the lady said.

  Mother was not crying. She was looking at her red, scraped hands and thinking of the cat.

  Let’s clean you up, the lady said.

  Mother followed her into a house. I remember Mother walked with her hands in front of her, palms turned up like she was showing them to the gray sky.

  In a blue bathroom, the lady picked up Mother and sat her next to the sink.

  What’s your name, sweetheart? the lady asked.

  Louise, Mother told her.

  Such a grown-up name, the lady said.

  On the wall, there were two blue fish with gold bubbles floating up out of their mouths. The lady cleaned Mother’s hands and knees with a clear bottle of alcohol that she poured on cotton balls. The alcohol burned, but Mother didn’t cry.

  I pretend to be asleep still when Cass comes in to wake me up for school. She sits on the edge of my bed.

  Sebby, she says, it’s late.

  I don’t open my eyes.

  I know you can hear me, Cass says and she stands up now.

  Her slippers swish-walk away on the carpet. Then I wet the bed on purpose. I didn’t think I would really do it, but then I do and I feel bad.

  Cass, I say, I had an accident.

  She walks over to me and lifts my blanket to see.

  Are you kidding me? she asks. We don’t have time for this.

  I’m sorry, I say.

  Cass grabs my shoulders and pulls me out of the bed.

  Go take a shower, she says. This is so gross.

  I watch Cass peel the wet sheet off my bed. She turns around and sees me watching.

  Go, she says.

  I run into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Then I take off my T-shirt. My wet pajama bottoms are stuck to my legs. I pull them down and get in the shower. I stand there under the hot water with my eyes closed. I am really sorry. Now Cass will be mean and I don’t want to go to school.

  There’s knocking.

  Sebby, Dad’s voice says, we’re late already, let’s go.

  I don’t move. Dad knocks again.

  Sebby, he says, are you okay?

  I open my eyes now. Dad knocks and then comes in. He turns off the water and wraps a towel around me.

  Did you hear me? he asks.

  I don’t say anything.

  You have to hurry, Dad says and carries me into my room. Get your clothes on.

  I look at my bed. All the blankets are gone. There’s a dark wet stain on the blue mattress.

  At lunch, Ronny’s telling how you can make yourself faint. Katya and I don’t sit at his table, but we’re listening to him.

  You have to breathe in and out really fast for thirty seconds, Ronny says, and then you stand up against a wall and someone has to push hard against your chest.

  Katya’s eating her apple slices. She eats just the white part and leaves the red skin. I don’t feel very hungry. I’m holding my sandwich but not taking any bites.

  I wa
s passed out for almost a minute, Ronny says. He closes his eyes and falls forward on the table, like he’s fainting.

  Stupid, Katya whispers to me. She spits out a piece of apple skin and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.

  Ronny sits up again and laughs. He looks around at everybody watching him.

  My sandwich drops out of my hand.

  You don’t like it? Katya asks and picks it up for me.

  I shake my head. I remember the air in Grandmother’s house and how it made Mother faint. I don’t want to be sad in front of everyone, but my eyes are filling up and that feels like burning. I close my eyes and try to push it back down. Then I’m crying.

  Sebby, Katya says.

  I’m crying without making any noise. Katya pulls my glasses off.

  Sebby, she says, what do you want?

  The other kids are quiet now. I know they see me.

  Hey, Katya, Andy says, what’s the matter with the crybaby? A balled-up napkin hits my cheek and lands in my lap. Katya picks it up and throws it back at Ronny’s table.

  What? Katya asks me. Sebby, she says, what do you want? She keeps asking me.

  I’m looking at her skinny, pretty shoulder. Her yellow sweater is too small. The sleeves are short and tight. I lean forward and bite her shoulder as hard as I can. Katya doesn’t move. Her yellow sweater tastes like soap.

  Stop it, she says.

  I stop and now Katya is crying, too.

  The lunch-duty lady runs over to us.

  What’s going on here? she asks.

  Ronny and one of the girls at his table tell her what I did.

  I have to go home early from school. Dad’s on his way to get me. I’m waiting for him in the principal’s office.

  Are you feeling okay? Dr. Fischer asks me again. He’s sitting in a big, brown chair with his arms folded on the desk.

  I look at him and nod.

  When Dad comes, Dr. Fischer asks him to sit. In the chair next to mine, Dad stretches out his legs and crosses his ankles.

  How’re you? Dad asks.

  Just fine, Dr. Fischer says. How are you and Sebastian doing?

  Dad switches and crosses his ankles the other way. Then he looks up and says, I think we’re all right.