So you’re all right, Leo says to me.
I nod.
Leo puts his hand on my head.
Nice costume, he says.
In the morning, we have a cat.
Dad says that he woke up early and went for a walk down to the water. When he came home, the cat was waiting by the door and followed him inside. The cat is a yellowish white, big cat with long fur and green eyes. Dad says the cat is a boy. We can’t feed him yet, because if he has a home then he will leave after a while to get food. So we are waiting to see if the cat goes home. I want him to stay, but Leo says the cat is a good-looking cat and probably has a home. I put my hand out and the cat lets me pet him.
I’m glad I went to the store yesterday, Dad says. He’s making us eggs for breakfast. We have orange juice, too. Dad pours three tall glasses and Leo sets out the plates and silverware.
You know the Patriots are playing today, says Leo.
Oh, yeah, Dad says, I can bring the TV down. I don’t know how good the reception will be.
Dad comes over with the frying pan. He tips it so the eggs slide off. He puts one egg on my plate and two on Leo’s plate and then he goes back to the stove. He cracks open two more eggs.
You know, Leo tells Dad, Bush is saying it wasn’t just unpatriotic for Clinton to protest the war. He’s attacking him on moral grounds.
Dad turns around with the spatula in his hand. They’re a bunch of politicians, he says, it’s all about politics.
But Bush is so much worse, Leo says and tips back in his chair.
Either way, says Dad, it won’t make all that much difference.
I feel the cat push against my legs under the table. I lean over and look at him. Dad says that the cat is like the color of champagne. I put my hand out and the cat pushes his face against my hand and rubs the side of his face on my arm. Then he lies down by my feet and I pet him some more.
You need to sit up and eat, Dad says. He comes over again with the frying pan and puts two eggs on his own plate.
I’m not hungry, so I take just a little bite of the white part of the egg. Then I poke the yellow part with my fork and watch how the yellow leaks out. I don’t like how it looks, but I take another bite so Dad doesn’t get mad.
I found a bike, I tell Leo. Can I show him? I ask Dad.
Please try to eat a little more, he says and looks at my plate.
I take two fast bites.
Can you finish your orange juice? he asks me. Another sip at least?
I take a long sip and then I show Dad the glass.
I think I put the bike back out by the shed, says Dad.
Let’s go, I say to Leo. I stand up and pull on his shoulder.
All right, he says.
I run through the house to the back door and outside. There’s the bike, leaning against the shed.
I remember that bike, Leo says, and walks toward me.
Is it a girl bike? I ask.
Leo shrugs. Looks all right to me, he says. His hair is kind of curly now that it’s longer.
Cass used to let me ride it sometimes, says Leo.
Why didn’t Cass come, too? I ask.
She’s still mad at Dad, Leo says.
I think of Cass smoking a cigarette, not talking to anyone.
I don’t know how to ride, I tell Leo. I look at the bike, not at him. I keep looking at the bike, but I know Leo’s looking at me.
Leo walks up and grabs the bike by the handlebars. He pulls it over to where I’m standing.
It’s easy, Leo says.
I look at his hands on the handlebars. He has long, skinny fingers. His hands are the same as Mother’s. They’re pretty, girl hands. I look at Leo’s face with his long hair covering over his eyes.
You gotta get on, Leo says, so I do. He holds the bike steady for me to get up on the seat.
Okay, says Leo, now just pedal and I’ll hold on as long as I can.
I pedal and I can feel Leo holding on. It’s good that Leo’s here now to hold on to the back of the seat and help me learn to ride. He has to run a little bit to keep up with me. Then he lets go.
Leo says, You can fall—we’re on the grass.
I don’t want to fall. I want to stop, but I don’t know how. I take my feet off the pedals and drag them on the ground, but I’m not stopping and then the bike tips over to the side.
It’s okay, Leo says.
He comes over to me. I fell and my side hurts, but I don’t hurt anywhere else.
See, Leo says, it’s easy. He helps me get up and then picks up the bike. If you want to slow down, he says, you gotta push back on the pedals. Okay? he asks.
Okay, I say.
Leo holds the bike steady for me to get on the seat and then I pedal again. I can feel Leo holding on and then I can’t feel him anymore, so I push back on the pedals like he told me to. I push back hard and that makes me fall.
My glasses are crooked and there’s blood in my mouth. It’s not a little bit of blood, like when I bite my cheek, but a lot of blood. I close my eyes. The grass is scratchy on my face.
You can’t stop that fast, says Leo. His voice is close. He puts his hand on my back.
Come on, Sebby, he says, look at me.
I turn over. Leo wipes my mouth with his shirt. I can see how my blood leaves a red stain on his sleeve.
You’re okay, he says and fixes my glasses. His hair is hanging down in front of his face. I reach out and push his hair back off his forehead.
You bit your lip, he tells me.
The grass smell is getting all over me. I want to go inside.
We’ll take a break, he says and helps me up. He holds my hand and we walk to the house. You just bit your lip, he tells me.
Dear Ms. Lambert,
On the day that Mother was dead, I didn’t cry. It was in the morning. Dad was sitting on the end of my bed when I woke up and I asked him, What are you doing? His face was red and his eyes were wet. There was light shining out of his eyes. Dad kept touching his hands to his face. He put his hand over his mouth and then both hands on his cheeks.
Dad said that Mother was gone, that she was dead. I was sleeping when it happened. All of us were sleeping.
Dad reached out his arms and touched his flat, cold hand to my cheek. Then he picked me up and carried me downstairs.
I’m sorry, Dad said, I’m sorry.
Dad put me down on the couch. I got up and walked back upstairs to my room. I sat on my bed and didn’t move. I didn’t cry. Then Cass came. She didn’t say anything. I let her carry me downstairs. She sat on the couch and held me on her lap. When she let me go, I went back upstairs to my room.
Dad came and sat next to me on my bed. He told me to cry. He told me to let it out.
Cry, Dad said.
I didn’t cry.
I wanted to be back in the trees where I was before I was me. I wanted to be up high again and then Mother would be right there below me. I wanted to watch her and keep watching her always.
Bye, Sebby
I’m sitting under the table in the kitchen with the new cat. He likes me to pet him on top of his head between his ears and also under his chin.
Leo’s standing over at the counter making sandwiches for the game. He had to go to the store to buy ham and turkey and mayonnaise.
Don’t get too attached to that cat, says Leo.
I don’t say anything.
Dad has the TV set up downstairs for the game and I can hear him making a fire in the fireplace. I look at my hands petting the cat. I like my hands. They’re not like Mother’s hands and they’re not like Dad’s hands either. Maybe before my hands were mine, they were Grandpa Chuck’s. I think of Grandpa Chuck’s hands holding birds, touching bird feathers.
The cat looks at me when I pet him on the back, but when I pet his head, he closes his eyes and purrs. My shirt has green on it from the grass and the smell is kind of sweet and dirty.
You did really great on the bike, Leo says to me.
I don’t think so.
Come on, he says, the game’s going to start.
I keep petting the cat.
Are you hiding? asks Leo.
I’m not, I tell him.
Then come on, he says.
I try to pick up the cat, but he’s big and doesn’t want to come with me. He taps me away with his paw.
Here, Leo says and gives me two bags of barbecue chips to carry.
Dad’s standing up, watching the TV when we come in.
I think it’ll work fine, he says and then turns and walks over to the stairs.
Where you going? Leo asks him.
I don’t like to watch, says Dad. He’s holding on to the railing and looking up the stairs.
Since when, Leo says. He sets a plate of sandwiches down on the table.
It makes me nervous, says Dad.
Jesus fucking Christ, Leo says and sits down on the couch.
Dad lets go of the railing and just stands there at the bottom of the stairs, but then he comes back over and sits down next to Leo. I’m still holding the two bags of chips. I set them on the table.
Can you go get the bottle of Coke? Leo asks me. He already put three tall glasses on the coffee table.
I left it out by the fridge, says Leo.
You drink Coke now? Dad asks.
Leo shrugs.
I go back into the kitchen. The cat is still under the table and I crawl under to sit with him. If I stay here, Leo will get mad. The cat pushes his face against my hand because he’s happy that I’m back, but I have to get up now or Leo will say I’m hiding. I pat the cat’s back two more times and then get up.
The bottle of Coke is wet and sweaty-looking from being out of the refrigerator. It’s heavy and makes my hands cold when I carry it to the other room. I set it down on the table and Leo reaches for it. I look at his hands again.
Leo twists off the cap and the bottle makes a fizzing noise.
You want some? he asks me.
Okay, I tell him, so he pours me a glass, too.
I crawl up onto the couch that smells like dust and sit next to Dad. I sit close to him and he puts his arm around me. Dad’s looking at the TV, but he keeps closing his eyes. He closes his eyes for a long time, like maybe he’s thinking hard or trying to fall asleep.
Dad, Leo says loudly and Dad’s eyes open.
You know, Leo says, I want to talk to you about the election.
Dad nods. He stares at the TV.
Bush started a war, Dad, says Leo, and people died.
I don’t want Leo to talk right now. I look at Leo and I wish he would be quiet.
I know, Dad says. His voice is slow and quiet.
I remember the war from TV. There were lights that flashed in the dark and Cass said that the lights were bombs and people were dying.
If you know, Leo says, then why don’t you vote?
Dad closes his eyes again but not for very long. When he opens his eyes he says, Because honestly, Leo, I don’t care.
Leo pulls his hair back tight into a short ponytail, then lets it go. He doesn’t say anything else to Dad and I’m glad about that. I want Leo to go away now. I like him being here to show me how to ride the bike, but not anymore if he’s going to be mean to Dad.
Here, Leo says and hands me one of the sandwiches.
I take it, but I’m not hungry. The dust from the old couch makes me sneeze.
Bless you, says Dad with his eyes closed.
A piece of tomato falls out of the sandwich and lands on my lap. I just leave it there.
Leo yells, GO GO GO! at the TV because the players are doing something good.
I sneeze again.
Bless you, says Dad. He pulls his arm away from me, then stands up.
Where are you going? Leo asks him.
To the bathroom, Dad says.
But they’re about to score, says Leo.
I know, Dad says. He walks away.
I feel cold now without Dad and I sneeze again. I wipe my nose on my arm. Leo looks at me.
Why don’t you eat the damn sandwich? he asks. He picks the tomato off my lap and puts it on the sandwich plate.
I’m not hungry, I say.
Leo watches the game. Come on! he yells at the TV and then there’s loud cheering because the players got points. Leo stands up to stretch and chip crumbs fall off him.
What’s the matter? he asks me.
I don’t say anything.
If you don’t want the sandwich, that’s fine, says Leo. He grabs it from me and throws it back on the plate.
We watch the TV even though commercials are on now. I’m waiting for Dad. I think Leo is waiting for Dad, too, but Dad’s not coming.
Leo stands up and walks over to the stairs. I try to listen to him going up, but the TV’s too loud. I wipe my runny nose on the back of my hand. I don’t like how my hand smells like the turkey sandwich. There are too many smells and the smells are making me sick.
I hear heavy feet running downstairs and Leo’s back with his duffel bag over his shoulder.
I gotta get out of here, he says. But listen, you be good. I’ll call soon, Leo says and puts his hand on my head.
Then he takes a bag of chips and the big bottle of Coke and he goes.
I know Dad’s not coming back downstairs now, so I turn off the TV. I run over to my sleeping bag and drag it into the kitchen, under the table, where the cat is waiting for me.
I wake up with something heavy on me. I try to push myself up and then the cat meows and I know it’s the cat on my back. I feel the cat turn around in a circle and then lie down again. I don’t move because I want him to stay. It’s so dark in here. I lie flat with the dark all around me and the cat heavy and warm on my back, but the inside of my sleeping bag is all wet.
This dark is not the good, small dark like the dark inside of my head or the dark hiding in a closet—it’s a big dark that I don’t know and it scares me. I call for Dad. I have to yell louder and louder to make him hear me. The cat runs away and my back feels cold now. I’m crying because I wanted the cat to stay and Dad’s not coming. Inside my sleeping bag, I take off my wet clothes.
The kitchen light turns on and there’s Dad in the light that’s so bright it’s burning my eyes. I keep blinking and looking at Dad.
What’re you doing? Dad asks. He walks over to where I am under the table and then squats down low.
I woke up, I tell him.
Okay, says Dad. He reaches out to pull me over to him.
I’m wet, I say.
Dad nods.
That’s okay, he says, come here.
He leans close to me and I hold on to his shoulders so he can pull me out of the sleeping bag. I’m so cold. My teeth are chattering loud.
Where are your clothes? Dad asks, because I only have on my underwear.
I point to the sleeping bag. In there, I say.
Dad carries me upstairs to the room that was Grandfather’s study and now is where I’m supposed to sleep. He puts me on the bed that has my blankets and sheets from home. My teeth are loud and I can’t make them stop. I look at the painting on the wall of the old man holding a dead bird in his hand. The old man is Grandfather, I think.
Dad brings clean underwear and my spaceman pajamas and helps me put them on.
Thank you, I tell him. I bite my teeth together hard to make them quiet.
No problem, Dad says and tucks me into bed. He pulls the covers up high, all the way to my chin. I like how he does that.
You’ll be okay in here, Dad says and he kisses my forehead. His face is scratchy.
I close my eyes because I don’t want to look at the painting of the old man. I hear Dad click off the light when he goes, but I keep my eyes closed because the old man will still be there in the dark. I know what I have to do.
I make my eyes open, but I don’t look at the old man, not yet. I look up at the ceiling that’s low and gray in the dark. I push the covers away and cold air gets all over me. Then I look down at the wood floor, reach my feet down to touch my t
oes first and I’m standing up. I keep looking down and take steps to where I know the old man is. I take soft steps, but the wood floor creaks at me.
I walk all the way to the old man and then I look up at his face. His eyes with their fat, tired eyelids look at me. I put my hand out and touch his chalky cheek. I hold my hand there because I’m not scared of him. With my finger, I touch his fat eyelids, one and then the other. His eyelids feel the same as his cheek.
I turn around and I know he’s looking at me, but that’s okay. I run back to bed and jump in fast. I pull the covers back over me and I can close my eyes now. The covers are cold and heavy. I have to wait for them to get warmer. I rub my feet together.
In the dark, I sometimes think I’m missing something. I could be missing something small, like a toe, and I wouldn’t know it. I wiggle my toes and try to feel them all, but I can’t. Maybe I should get out of bed to count and make sure none are missing, but I’m too tired to count.
When I sleep, I’m not me anymore.
I dream about sleeping in the backseat of an old car. There are bread crumbs all around the car and on top of it, too, so that the animals will come.
Dad wakes me up in the morning. He’s sitting on my bed and his face looks darker with his beard growing back.
It’s late, he tells me, are you okay?
I nod.
It’s almost lunchtime. You hungry? asks Dad.
Not really, I tell him.
Dad rubs his hands together. They make a dry sound.
We have those sandwiches that Leo made, says Dad.
I want to sleep more. I turn over onto my side and close my eyes.
Dad says, Come on, Sebby, it’s time to get up. His big hand squeezes my shoulder.
Come on, he says, what’s wrong with you?
Nothing, I tell him.
Dad lets me ride on his back, all the way downstairs to the kitchen. My sleeping bag is not under the table anymore and I wonder where it is.
Dad puts me down on one of the chairs and goes over to the refrigerator to take out the plateful of Leo’s sandwiches. He brings it over and sits next to me. We both look at the plate.
I’m not hungry either, Dad says, but I think we should eat. You’re growing, you have to eat. He picks up a sandwich and takes a bite, then nods his head to show me it tastes good.
Up High in the Trees Page 9
