Teaching’s going well? Dr. Fischer asks.
Dad teaches at a college that’s only for girls, but the teachers can be boys.
I’m on leave, Dad says, finishing my book.
Dr. Fischer nods and says, It might be best for Sebastian to stay home a few days.
Dad coughs and clears his throat.
Okay, Dad says, he may just need some extra rest.
I start to swing my feet. Without even looking, Dad reaches over and puts his hand on my knees to stop my feet.
I have to go to the bathroom, I say.
Hold on a minute, Dad says. He looks at Dr. Fischer and waits.
I’ll give you a call on Friday, Dr. Fischer says, and we’ll see how Sebastian’s feeling then.
Friday’s in two days, I say.
That’s right, says Dr. Fischer. He looks down at the desk and moves some papers around. Very well, he says.
On Mother’s funeral day, Leo helped me get dressed in a new suit that Cass bought for me. The light blue tie had tiny white stars all over it. Leo stood behind me in front of the mirror and tried to put the tie on me, but he couldn’t do it right.
I have to get Dad, he said.
He left me in my room in front of the mirror. I was looking at my face and it was hard to breathe. I put my hand on the mirror to cover my face, because I didn’t like how it looked.
Music started playing downstairs. The Otis Redding song about sitting on the dock.
Cass made Dad promise, no sad music. I think Otis Redding is sad music.
I went to Mother and Dad’s room. Nobody was there and I wanted to go in the closet, so I did. Then I opened the secret door in the way back and crawled inside. The white stars all over my tie glowed in the dark.
I heard Leo calling for me and then Cass and Dad were calling for me, too. They couldn’t find me, so Mrs. Franklin from next door had to come over and wait for me to come out. She walked all around the house calling my name, her voice getting louder and then quieter again. I knew that Dad and Cass and Leo went without me.
Leo wakes me up for dinner. It’s almost six o’clock, he says. If you sleep anymore, you’ll be up all night.
I’m sweaty from sleeping and my mattress is hot. I try reaching out with my foot to find a faraway spot that feels cool. Next to me, the wet stain from this morning is a smaller, dark blue egg.
Cass made you mashed potatoes, Leo says. He’s leaning against the door with his arms folded.
I’m not hungry, I tell him.
Leo stands there, looking at me.
What? I ask him.
Nothing, Leo says. I wanted to tell you. Then he stops. He stands up straight and pushes his hands into his pockets.
I tried to throw a chair in fifth grade, Leo says. It was the day the spaceship launched. You know, the Challenger. We were watching and then it exploded on the TV. Mrs. Shapiro got up and, real calm, she turned off the TV and carried it out of the room. When she came back in, I remember she said, Sometimes these things happen. I hated her when she said that.
Leo stops again. I wait.
He says, Dad told me that the people on the spaceship were going to rescue Major Tom—the guy from the David Bowie song—and I kind of believed him. I started thinking about Major Tom floating around by himself in space with nobody to save him. Anyway, I picked up my chair and tried to throw it against the wall, but the chair was heavy and I couldn’t really throw it so I sort of just dropped it and this girl, Angela, laughed at me. I had to go to the principal’s office. I sat there crying.
Leo takes a step backward into the hallway.
Anyway, he says, it’s time for dinner. Come on.
I used to write notes to Mother and hide them in places. I hid the notes in her books, in the pockets of her folded-up clothes, in her medicine drawer, in her pillowcase, in her shoes. If I wanted her to find the note fast, then I had to hide it in an easy place, like her purse.
I wrote her a note that said:
To Mother,
Your name is Louise. Louise sounds like please. Louise please. Please Louise. Tell me what does Sebastian sound like?
From, Sebby
This note was not important, so I hid it in a hard place. I folded it up tiny and tight in her silver heart locket that has two small heart-shaped pictures. The pictures are of Uncle Alexander’s face smiling and of Dad’s face not smiling.
Mother brought me the notes when she found them. Sometimes she answered and sometimes she didn’t.
It took her a very long time to find the note in her locket. I was in the backyard looking for snails. She sat down with me on the garden wall that’s made out of rocks and she gave me back the note.
She said, You have a beautiful name. I can’t think of any perfect rhymes, but it goes well with captain, she said, Captain Sebastian. Or stallion. Sebastian the stallion. Or action. Sebastian full of action.
BIRDS
On Friday, I go back to school. Cass drives me in the green car and drops me off in front.
Hey, she says, don’t let all the little bastards get you down. She grabs my hand and squeezes it hard.
I have to run to my classroom to get there before the second bell rings.
At the front of the room, Teacher’s sitting on her desk with her hands tucked under her legs. She smiles at me and nods. I know she still likes me even though I bit Katya.
Ms. Lambert. Lamb like a soft, white lamb and Bert, like on Sesame Street. It’s a funny name to think about. In my head, I call her Teacher, but out loud I have to call her Ms. Lambert. My last name doesn’t have two things put together like Teacher’s name does. My last name is just Lane, like a lane you walk down or like a lane on the road for cars. It’s nothing to think about.
Okay, Teacher says, who can tell me how many pounds of trash one person makes in a single day?
I fold my arms on my desk and rest my chin on my hands. The desk smells like scratchy blue cleaning powder.
Teacher looks around the room. Her lips are pressed together tight. I don’t know the answer even though we’ve been learning about how to take care of the earth since the beginning of the year. I keep looking over at Katya, but she won’t look at me.
Who remembers? Teacher asks.
Marianne raises her hand and answers. About four pounds, she says.
Teacher nods and tells her good job. Now, she asks, who can tell me a kind of material that is NOT biodegradable? She calls on Ryan.
Styrofoam, Ryan says.
Good, Teacher says. What else?
Some kinds of plastic and tinfoil, Frankie shouts.
Good, Teacher says, but please remember to raise your hand.
Stinky diapers! Ronny shouts without raising his hand and everybody starts laughing.
Teacher doesn’t say anything and waits for quiet again. Her face turns red and she looks hard at Ronny. Her eyes don’t move.
Today is your last day to finish your posters, she says.
We each have to make a poster about why recycling is important. Third-graders at all the schools have to make one, and whoever makes the best poster wins a new art set with paints and markers and colored pencils.
My poster is a picture of a regular trash can next to a recycling bin. In the trash can, all the bottles and cans are crying, but in the recycling bin they’re dancing and having a party. Teacher says I have to write something, too.
Like a catchy phrase, she says, that will stick in people’s heads.
But I can’t think of one.
Mica is the best drawer in our class and everybody knows she’s going to win the new art set. She made a picture of what the world would look like without trees and animals. It’s a lot of tall gray buildings and lonely, skinny people walking around with briefcases. Please recycle, she wrote across the top in her perfect block letters, I want a brighter future.
At morning recess, instead of meeting me under the tree, Katya plays jump rope with the girls. On her turn, all the girls sing, Ice-cream soda, strawberry punc
h, tell me the name of your honeybunch. Is it A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N—then Katya messes up and the girls scream out, Neill and Noah! Nathan Morris from Boyz II Men, someone says and then they all laugh. Katya laughs, too, and she covers her smile with both hands, like she really does love Neill or Noah or Nathan Morris.
I want to go home, so I run.
It’s easy to run into the parking lot, down the hill, and out of school. Nobody chases me or yells at me to stop. I keep going fast down the street and I know I hate Katya and the whole stupid school.
The houses here are quiet and their colors are soft. They are light blue or light yellow or light green. One is light pink.
I see the grocery store at the end of the street. In the middle of the empty parking lot is a long line of shopping carts. I start walking now because I know where I can go. I can hide inside the grocery store.
The automatic doors slide open for me. I know where I’m going. There’s room to hide where they keep all the vegetables and fruit. I find a space under the ledge that holds broccoli and lettuce. I duck underneath and sit hugging my legs against my chest. I’m okay here. I could stay for a long time, except it’s cold. In front of me on the floor, I see a popcorn piece of Styrofoam. I reach out fast to grab it and put it in my pocket.
I wait for a long time. There’s nothing to do, so sometimes I take the piece of Styrofoam out of my pocket to look at it.
I hear a cart coming down the aisle toward me. I wait and then it rolls past. I watch the feet go by. They’re small feet. The shoes are very white and clean. I think the feet must be old lady feet because they go so slow. The old lady’s shoes squeak on the grocery store floor and that sound makes me sad. I wait until the old lady is gone and then I crawl out from under the vegetables.
Outside, I find a pay phone. I push zero and then I dial Dad’s number at work. The operator asks my name.
I hear my voice say, Sebby. Then the operator asks Dad if he’ll take my call.
Yes, says Dad’s voice. There’s a clicking sound.
Sebby, Dad says, what’re you doing?
Please come get me, I say. I close my eyes and pretend that I’m already gone. I’m flying through the dark line of space that connects my voice and Dad’s voice. Space is a dark line that touches everywhere. Major Tom got lost because there’s so much space.
Where are you? Dad’s voice comes out louder now. Sebby, he says even louder.
His voice scares me and I open my eyes. I tell him that I’m in front of the grocery store.
I’m coming, Dad says. Sit down, he tells me, don’t move.
I sit on the cement in front of the pay phone and watch the empty gray parking lot. I watch until I see Dad’s car coming.
At home, I go to the backyard and take the popcorn piece of Styrofoam out of my pocket. I dig a hole in the grass with a stick and put the Styrofoam in the hole. Then I cover it up with dirt.
I lie on my back and look up at the sky. I think about Katya. She’s not my friend and I’m sorry. I keep looking up and then the sky starts to rain on me. I feel a cold drop on my forehead and also my cheek.
Sebby, Dad calls to me from the window, get in here.
I run inside, but I know the place in the grass where the Styrofoam is buried.
Dad watches me take off my shoes. His eyes are big and scared.
Go to your room, says Dad.
Maybe he’s mad at me now for leaving school. I go to my room and lie down on my bed. I think about how the piece of Styrofoam will always be there in that spot.
Mother is not buried anywhere. She wanted to be cremated like Uncle Alexander. That means now they are ashes, but I don’t believe it.
We buried Grandmother Bernie.
Grandmother Bernie died first. Then Uncle Alexander. Then Mother.
After dinner, Dad says he’s taking me away. He says that he and I are going to the summerhouse. We can stay as long as we need to.
I thought you were going to take over that music theory class, Cass says.
I decided not to, says Dad. I have to finish the book. Fine with me, Leo says and he walks away.
I talked to Mrs. Franklin, says Dad. She can make dinners and check in on you.
Mrs. Franklin lives next door. Her kids are all grown up and gone.
Cass hits the table with the side of her fist.
You make everything worse, she says to Dad and then locks herself in the bathroom to smoke.
I stand outside the door and I can smell her cigarettes. When she comes out, I follow her over to where Dad’s still sitting at the table.
You don’t know what you’re doing, Cass says to Dad. She turns around and I’m behind her.
Sebby is fine, Cass says, you don’t need to take him away. She grabs me and pushes me in front of Dad. She tells me to tell Dad that I’m fine.
I’m fine, Dad, I say.
Dad shakes his head.
Now I go into the bathroom and lock the door. The bathroom is cloudy with smoke. Cass puts out her cigarettes in the toilet water and they float around in there like dead fish. I flush them away. Then I sit and think. If Dad takes me to the summerhouse, I won’t have to go to school.
Someone knocks on the door.
Sebby, come out, Dad says. If you don’t want to go we don’t have to.
I come out.
I’ll go, I say.
We haven’t been to the summerhouse since Uncle Alexander died there.
That’s almost three years ago now, Dad tells me. Dad talks a lot in the car. He says I have to keep him company so he doesn’t get sleepy.
Do you think Cass is mean? I ask Dad.
Dad says no. He says that he’s done lots of mean things.
I’ll tell you, he says, the meanest thing I ever did was walk a cow up the stairs in my grandmother’s farmhouse. They couldn’t get it back down. I knew they wouldn’t be able to, because I’d read that a cow will walk upstairs, but not down. They had to lower the cow off the upstairs deck with a crane and the whole time that cow was crying like a baby. It was horrible.
You’re nice to me, I say.
That’s easy, Dad says. You know, he tells me, we’re going to be okay. A break will be good for us.
I remember the summerhouse is small and white and has a dock that goes out to the ocean. It’s where Mother and Uncle Alexander grew up.
Dad says we’ll probably have to clean up a little bit because nobody’s been living there and it hasn’t been rented out since last summer.
I look in the bag of snacks that Cass packed for me. I pick out a red box of raisins.
Dad, I say, you know what?
I keep looking at the lady on the raisin box.
What? Dad asks.
Mother kind of looked like this lady, I say, and I show him the box. She looks bright, like she’s standing with the sun shining on her.
You think so, he says.
I nod.
Dad points out ahead. His eyes are blinking fast and he has to clear his throat before he talks.
Look, he says, the ocean.
In the kitchen, there’s a picture of Mother ice-skating with Cass and Leo. Leo’s a baby in a blue hat. His head looks too big. Mother and Cass are pushing him around the ice in his stroller. I pick up the picture and look at it so close that it just blurs into colors. Then I put it back down where it was.
I open all the cabinets. There are white plates and white bowls and tall, clear glasses. The drawers are mostly empty. In the top drawer I find Scotch tape and two batteries, a red colored pencil and a stone shaped like a fish, painted orange with a black dot for an eye. I pick up the orange fish. It’s cold. I touch it to my face and then I put it back where it was.
At home, sometimes I thought Mother was hiding here in this house.
I pick up the phone that’s hanging on the wall and listen to the fast beeping sound.
Hello, I say and then hang up.
I look for Dad. He’s outside by the car with his hands full of all ou
r stuff.
Sebby, come help, he says. Dad gives me the light bags to carry.
We make a big pile in front of the stairs.
I’m starving, Dad says, we have to get some groceries.
It’s dark when we come back to the house. I go around and turn on all the lights I can find. Some of the lightbulbs are burned out, but Dad says we’ll worry about that tomorrow.
Sebby, Dad calls to me from the kitchen. We should eat, he says.
Dad bought us hot dogs for dinner. He puts four of them in the microwave. It hums a fuzzy sound like a radio between stations. I remember Mother told me I used to like listening to the sound of white noise on the radio. It put me to sleep when I was a baby.
I stand close to watch the hot dogs cook.
Get away from there, Dad says, it’ll give you cancer.
When Dad takes the hot dogs out, I wonder if they have cancer in them now. We eat the hot dogs plain, because Dad didn’t buy buns or ketchup.
Tastes good, I say.
Dad laughs at me. He eats his hot dogs fast.
I’m tired, he says and stretches his arms up.
I don’t know how he’s tired when everything here is new and we haven’t looked at all of it yet.
I’ll go make a fire, says Dad. He goes to the other room with the fresh wood we bought.
I stop eating my cancer hot dog and look at the picture of Mother ice-skating with Cass and Leo. Mother’s laughing and you can see her pretty teeth. They’re so white.
Sebby, Dad calls for me again.
The fire’s burning and he’s lying in his sleeping bag. Mine’s rolled out next to his.
We’ll clean up in the morning, says Dad.
I lie down and take off my glasses. In my room, I set my glasses on the table next to my bed. Here, I don’t know where’s a safe place, so I put them back on.
Dad, I say quietly. He doesn’t answer.
Up High in the Trees Page 5
