I find the spot and stand right there and then let the shoe fall out of my coat. The heel clicks when it hits the cold cement and makes a quick, hollow sound. I keep looking at the white shoe on the ground and I can’t believe that it could make a sound at all. I want to pick up the shoe and drop it one more time to see if it will make that noise again. I can’t, though. I have to run away before someone sees me.
I run and the air is cold on my cheeks. I can feel the cold inside my head and it stings, like there’s ice behind my eyes. My head hurts every time my feet land on the ground, so I have to stop running. I take soft steps and that feels better. In the back of my head I can hear the sound of my heart beating. My heart is so loud that the whole inside of my body is filling up with sound.
In the morning, I go outside and the yellow bike is gone. I know who took it. I sit down on the front steps and wait for the boy from the blue house.
I decide I don’t really care if he keeps the bike, because it’s ugly and I don’t know how to ride it. When the boy comes back, I’ll tell him that I don’t care. Then I’ll go inside and lock the door so he’ll have to go away. I know what to do.
I can hear the boy screaming at me before he comes around the corner. Then I see him. He’s wearing just the hood part of his coat, so the rest of it flies behind him like a cape.
What’s your name?! the boy screams. What’syourname, what’syourname, what’syourname! he screams and he rides the yellow bike toward me.
His sister is running after him and she’s also screaming, What’syourname, what’syourname, what’syourname!
The boy rides right past me without stopping and the girl follows him. I look at her feet. She’s not wearing the white shoes. She’s wearing black high-top sneakers.
The boy turns around at the end of the street and comes toward me again. This time he stops in front of the white house and jumps off the seat so he’s standing with one foot on each side of the yellow bike. His sister catches up with him.
You know how to talk or what? the boy asks me.
His sister’s coughing from running so much. She bends forward onto her knees, then sits down on the ground. She coughs without covering her mouth.
Do you talk? the boy asks me again.
Yes, I tell him.
Did you hear that? he asks his sister and she just nods her head.
Today the boy is wearing a shirt. It’s gray with long sleeves. His coat looks funny now, hanging flat around his head. He’s wearing shorts instead of pants even though it’s cold outside. His shoes are tall, red cowboy boots that go all the way up to his knees. The girl stands up next to him so that I’ll look at her, too. She’s wearing jeans and a white coat. Her jeans are too short. I can see that she’s wearing red socks.
Do you want your bike? the boy asks. His voice is louder again.
You can have it if you want, I tell him. I stand up because I’m ready to go back inside the white house and lock the door. Then the boy will have to go away.
Hey! he screams. He gets off the bike and pushes it over so that it lands hard on the ground and then kicks the front tire.
I don’t want your damn, stinking bike, the boy says.
The girl copies him. She kicks the front tire and says, I don’t want your damn, stinking bike.
Shut up, Shelly, the boy says and pushes her.
Who do you live here with? the boy yells at me. Then he starts coughing. He doesn’t cover his mouth either.
My Dad, I tell him.
Do you want me to ring the doorbell and ask your dad what your dumb name is? he asks. His voice is quieter now.
No, I say. I sit back down on the front steps.
Well, then, he says and walks toward me. He looks back at his sister and puts his hand up so she doesn’t follow him.
The boy keeps walking toward me and I don’t know what to do.
My name is Sebby, I tell him to make him stop walking.
The boy stops and puts his hands in his pockets. Up close, he has freckles all over his cheeks and on his nose.
That’s not a name, he says.
My whole name is Sebastian James Lane, I tell him.
The boy nods his head at me.
Okay, fine, he says, Sebastian James Lane. He says my name funny, like it’s a fancy name.
I don’t like how he says it.
My name is Jackson and that’s Shelly, he says. He points at his sister and she stands up, but then he holds his hand out the same way as before and that means she has to stay where she is.
Nice to meet you, the boy says and puts out his hand for me to shake.
I shake it and then he walks away.
Hey! the girl yells at me, how come you wear glasses all the time?
So I can see more, I tell her
The boy turns around to look at me.
See ya, he says. Next time you don’t have to be such a jerk.
Dear Ms. Lambert,
A long time ago, I fell out the window and I was okay. I was thinking about falling and what it would be like and then it happened.
There’s a boy here named Jackson and a girl named Shelly. I had to tell them my name and now maybe they will be nice to me.
I have a dead Grandpa Chuck who liked pigeons. Do you think that’s weird to like pigeons? I don’t like any birds, because when I see one then I think something bad is going to happen.
Mother saw a bird in the white frosting ceiling and I could see it, too. After that, Mother was sad all the time. I used to stare at the bird and wish for Mother to be happy again. When Mother died, the bird was gone. I couldn’t find it. I thought maybe the bird took Mother away.
Bye, Sebby
I look in the upstairs closet to find Grandpa Chuck’s box. I want to know about pigeons and why they are good.
All the way up on the top shelf, I see a box that says CHUCK in capital black letters. I get a chair to stand on so I can reach, but the box is too heavy for me to pull down.
What I want to do is hide in the closet. I think it would be okay to hide for just a little bit, so I go in and pull the door shut almost all the way. Then I sit down and scoot to the back. I want to see if Dad will find me, but then I would be hiding for too long.
Inside the closet, it smells like outside. It smells like the cold-air smell of winter coats. I like being in the dark, but I have to remember I can only hide for a little bit.
I know Dad is upstairs where I am, because I can hear his music now. It sounds soft, like a lullaby. It’s the Mamas and Papas song about a man who stands in his window and watches girls walking through the canyon. Mother told me that New York City is like a canyon, because the buildings are so tall.
The closet light wakes me up.
Dad says hello. His eyes look red and sleepy. He asks me what I’m doing and his voice sounds mad at me.
Sebby, he says, do not hide from me again. Then he goes away.
I stay in the closet. I’m lying on a brown box. The box is old and soft. It says Mother’s name, LOUISE, and also Uncle’s name, ALEXANDER.
I should go downstairs to my sleeping bag because I’m tired and I don’t want to know what’s in the box right now. But, I open one of the top flaps, put my hand inside, and pull out a red piece of paper that’s written on with black crayon. The writing is messy and this is what it says:
Cass Love Mom
Mom Cass Love
Love Mom Cass
Mom Love Cass
Cass Mom Love
Love Cass Mom.
At the bottom of the red paper, in pencil handwriting, it says, Cass, age five, December 12, 1978.
I put the red paper back in the box and I think about going downstairs, but I don’t. I reach in the box and take out a picture of a birthday cake that says HAPPY BIRTHDAY louise. The picture is black-and-white. I count and there are fifteen candles on the cake. Mother’s not in the picture. You can only see the cake.
I leave the picture and go downstairs. Dad’s already asleep and the fireplace room
is dark except for the fire. I like listening to how the wood pops when it burns.
I think about how Mother was fifteen and we were not with her. I was hiding somewhere, watching her, but I was not really me yet. Dad was somewhere, too, but he was not with Mother. He didn’t know her until she was sixteen and went to Sandy’s Escape and together they heard the song “Satisfaction.” Uncle Alexander was probably there with Mother and Grandmother Bernie and Grandpa Chuck, too. Mother knew them before she knew Dad, Cass, Leo, and me. Now Mother is with only the baby, Sara Rose.
I can’t fall asleep because I know what I want is to remember everything Mother did.
FAVORITES
In the morning, I find Dad upstairs in the room where he’s supposed to sleep. The bed is set up with his yellow sheets and blankets that have tiny blue flowers all over them. I think it’s not right for Dad to sleep with all those blue flowers since flowers are for girls and he doesn’t sleep with Mother anymore.
Dad’s watching TV, but the picture on the screen is not moving and I don’t hear any sound.
What channel is this? I ask Dad.
It’s a video, he says, I found it in the closet last night. I got down your grandfather’s box of bird stuff, too, he says.
The picture on the TV screen is just a girl sleeping in a white bed.
That’s Cass, Dad says and nods at the screen.
The sleeping girl’s face looks so much softer than Cass’s face. I don’t think it’s really her.
She’s maybe twelve or thirteen here, Dad says.
What’s she doing? I ask.
Sleeping, says Dad.
Oh, I say.
I’d just bought my first video camera, Dad says. He’s talking and watching the TV screen. Cass wanted me to tape her early in the morning before she woke up so that she could see what she looked like when she was sleeping.
Why? I ask.
I don’t like watching Cass sleep.
I don’t know, Dad says, just curious, I guess.
Dad, I say.
He looks at me for a second.
Yeah, he says and then looks back at the screen.
Is Cass like Mother? I ask.
In some ways, yes, says Dad. I guess I don’t know what you mean exactly.
I mean she doesn’t look right with her eyes closed and her face empty like she’s not feeling anything, but I don’t say that. I don’t say anything.
In the hallway, I look through the box of Grandpa Chuck’s bird stuff and find something to ask Dad about.
What’s this? I ask. I’m holding up an X-ray of a bird with its wings spread out.
Dad doesn’t answer, so I go over to him and pull on the leg of his gray sweatpants.
Just a second, Dad says and stands up. He reaches forward to push the big button that turns off the TV.
That’s an X-ray, Dad says. He stretches up tall so his white T-shirt goes up and I can see his stomach with the rubbery scar from where they took his appendix out.
Who is it in the X-ray? I ask.
It’s Butch, your grandfather’s favorite pigeon, says Dad. Butch got sick and your grandfather called a special bird doctor all the way out in New Hampshire or someplace and paid for the guy to fly here with all his equipment. The doctor said he couldn’t guarantee anything. He was a weird guy. He talked slow and had a tiny, funny mustache.
Dad stops and rubs his face with his hands, then says, The doctor took that X-ray to see inside Butch’s lungs. Turns out Butch had pneumonia.
Dad points to light gray spots on the X-ray. See, he says, that’s all fluid.
I touch one of the light gray spots and keep my finger there to cover it up.
What happened? I ask Dad.
Well, he says, the doctor helped your grandfather set up a sickroom for Butch. A cardboard box with a utility lamp clamped above to keep him warm. He survived in there for almost two weeks, I think.
I put the X-ray of pigeon Butch back in the box and close the lid. I don’t want to know how light gray spots of fluid got inside his lungs. I don’t like to look at the bird’s body of bones and know he’s dead.
I’m hungry, I tell Dad.
Okay, says Dad, we’ll have to go out.
Can we drive? I ask.
We haven’t driven anywhere since we came here. It’s been days and days.
I guess so, Dad says.
I follow him downstairs and we get ready to go. Without any socks, Dad puts on his boots and laces them up really slowly. He keeps holding out the loose ends of the laces to make sure they’re both the same length. I watch him and in my head I start to count. I count as fast as I can.
All right, Dad says and he looks up at me.
I can’t stop counting in my head.
Dad finds the car keys in the pocket of his gray coat. Outside, he keeps feeling around in all his pockets like he’s missing something. He pulls out a red pack of sugarless gum and also a five-dollar bill.
Look, he says.
I look, but I don’t say anything because I’m still counting.
You want a piece? Dad asks.
Then I have to stop counting to answer. We’re standing by the car and Dad’s looking at me, waiting.
Okay, I say. I’m not counting now, but I can still feel the numbers moving fast through my head. The numbers make my foot tap.
What are you doing? Dad asks.
Nothing, I say and we get in the car.
I put the piece of gum in my mouth. I used to not like this kind because it tasted too spicy, but now I like how it makes the inside of my mouth feel hot.
We drive into town and after we pass by the post office, then everything’s new. Dad parks in front of a brown restaurant with a sign that says Mitchell’s.
I haven’t been here in years, Dad tells me.
We get out and I run around to Dad’s side so I can lock the car. I like listening to the clicking sound.
The restaurant is loud inside. I follow Dad to a booth. We have our own window, but there’s nothing to see really, except for all the cars parked in a row. Our car is parked in the middle and I think that’s a good place for it to be.
A tall waitress brings us water. She’s wearing a short, black skirt so you can see almost all of her long, skinny legs. She asks Dad if we’re ready to order.
You want pancakes? Dad asks me.
I nod yes. The waitress looks funny like how flamingos look funny. On her long neck she’s wearing a gold cross necklace.
Dad orders pancakes for me and also eggs over easy with well-toasted toast for him.
The waitress goes away and Dad rubs his forehead with both hands like he’s tired already. Then he looks out the window. He’s sad for Mother and sad for himself. I know he’s sad all the time and I heard Cass say that maybe he’ll never feel better.
I slide forward off the booth and go under the table. Dad doesn’t tell me not to, so I lie down on the floor and look up. There’s one name scratched into the wood. Rachel, it says.
I take my red piece of gum out of my mouth and stick it next to the name Rachel. I tell myself to remember how I lay under the table and stuck my piece of gum there. If I tell myself to remember something like that, then it stays in my head.
I remember I locked myself in the bathroom at home and lay down on the floor. It was my birthday and I was wearing my new spaceman pajamas that Mother gave me. I took the piece of grape gum I was chewing out of my mouth and stuck it all the way at the back of the cabinet under the sink. The gum was my birthday present from Leo. He gave me ten packs of grape bubblegum and Mother said it would ruin all my nice new teeth. I had three new teeth on the bottom, but I still had my baby teeth on top. I stuck my piece of grape gum in the back of the cabinet and I told myself to remember lying down there on the floor on my birthday and it worked, so that’s how I know how to make myself remember.
Dear Ms. Lambert,
I do know what happened to Mother. I wasn’t there, but I was.
I was sleeping and I could see
Mother running in the dark. She was holding her stomach. There weren’t any cars, so she was running in the middle of the street.
I want to remember everything that Mother did, but if I try too hard, then I’m thinking, and thinking is not the same as remembering.
Bye, Sebby
Dad’s upstairs when the doorbell rings and he doesn’t come down so I have to answer it. I only open the door a tiny bit and I can see it’s the boy, Jackson, with his sister standing behind him.
Come on, open up, Jackson says.
I open the door a little more, but I stand in the open space so that he can’t come in.
What do you want? I ask him.
We came to find out what you’re going to be for Halloween, says Jackson.
I don’t say anything. I look down at Jackson’s feet. He’s wearing his red cowboy boots and also jean shorts. I can see his knees are purply red from the cold.
I’m going to be a street-fighting ninja, Jackson says.
I’m going to be Robin, says his sister.
She wants to be Robin even though I’m not going to be Batman this year, Jackson says. It’s stupid.
Jackson, you shut up, his sister says. She has big, watery eyes.
What are you going to be? Jackson asks me again.
I don’t know, I tell him.
Sebby, Dad’s voice says from behind me.
I turn around and look at him at the top of the stairs. He’s wearing his white T-shirt and his gray sweatpants with one sweatpant leg pushed up around his knee.
Who’s there? he asks.
I open the door more so he can see Jackson and his sister.
Oh, Dad says and walks away.
That’s your Dad? Jackson asks.
If you take your glasses off, you could be Batman, his sister says to me. She moves closer so she’s standing next to Jackson and not behind him anymore. Her face has freckles all over it and her lips are chapped. They’re chapped because she keeps licking them. She looks sad with her big, watery eyes.
Up High in the Trees Page 7
