Cass is outside putting gas in the car and she knocks on the backseat window by where my feet are. She waves at me.
I’m going to run into the store, she says.
I think about how dinosaurs are extinct. It’s sad to think of the world getting too hot or too cold and all of the dinosaurs lying on the ground together, dying.
Cass comes back and drops a Charleston Chew candy bar on my chest.
You’re welcome, she says.
I wake up in my bed at home.
Hello, I say to the dark. I reach over and turn on the light that’s on the small table next to my bed. The lampshade makes a gray shadow on the wall.
My Charleston Chew and my glasses are on the table next to the light. Maybe Cass left them there for me.
I slide down off my bed and put on my glasses. I don’t want to sleep anymore. I want to get up and look around. I sit on the white circle rug by my bed and open my Charleston Chew. I think it tastes like dried-out ice cream. I eat almost the whole thing.
Then I pull open the table’s drawer. I know what’s inside. My book that’s called What Do People Do All Day? by Richard Scarry—it’s not really about people but about animals who look like people and wear clothes like people do. It used to be the book I needed to read every night before I fell asleep. Folded inside the book is the yellow piece of paper Mother left for me with the words to the Mamas and Papas song. Also in the drawer, I find my favorite scratch-and-sniff fruit stickers with almost all of the smell scratched off. The purple grape sticker smells the best, but I won’t scratch it anymore because then it will be all used up. In the very back of the drawer, I have Mother’s lipstick that I took out of her purse. I can’t open it or touch it since that would erase all of her that’s still there.
My orange flashlight is under my bed. You have to twist the top part where the light comes out to make it turn on. I twist it on and point the light out of my room, into the hallway so I can walk down to the kitchen.
I shine my flashlight on the refrigerator. I need to check the magnets. We have six magnets that are different kinds of fruits. I count them all. The fruit is made out of rubbery plastic and I used to chew on them when nobody was looking, but I don’t chew on them anymore. You can see the chew marks and Mother used to say, Who’s trying to eat my magnets? She pretended not to know that it was me.
On the refrigerator is a picture of Dad lying on the couch in his pajama bottoms with no shirt on and he’s reading the big, brown dictionary. There’s also a picture of Cass sitting on a pumpkin in the pumpkin patch and she’s trying to hold Leo on her lap, but he’s slipping down. Leo is only a baby in the picture and he’s looking up at the sky, because he doesn’t know he’s supposed to look at the camera. Then there’s a picture of me. I’m a baby wearing a diaper and I’m sitting on the floor with Dad’s white headphones on, listening to music.
Those are the three pictures on the refrigerator.
I look in the drawer of the kitchen desk for the cat book. The cat book has the addresses of all the people we know written in Mother’s handwriting. It’s called the cat book because every letter in the alphabet has a different cat picture. Mother crossed out Uncle Alexander’s name after he died, but she didn’t cross out Grandpa Chuck’s name and Grandmother’s name.
In the downstairs bathroom, I lie on the floor so I can reach back into the cabinet under the sink and touch my piece of grape gum that I put there on my birthday when I was six. I have to feel around with my fingers and then I find it. It’s hard now and mostly smooth, like a piece of plastic. I shine the flashlight inside so I can see. The gum isn’t purple anymore, but darker, almost black.
Now I need to go to the room where Mother used to sleep with Dad. I shine my flashlight up the stairs and the wooden steps look yellow instead of brown. I walk slowly down the hall, past Cass’s room.
On the floor of Mother’s side of the closet, I open the box that has her red slippers. I don’t touch them, I just look for a long time.
Then I open another box and find Mother’s black winter boots. I reach inside and pull out the old note that says:
To Mother,
Cass said you went out. Where did you go?
I waited for you by the door. You took too long to come back, so I chewed the inside of my mouth. I know that is a bad habit to have. Are there good habits?
From, Sebby
I put the note back in Mother’s black boot. I’m the only one who knows it’s there.
Then I crawl over to Dad’s side of the closet and reach all the way back to touch the cold handle of the secret door. It feels scary to touch the secret door in the middle of the night. I pull my hand away fast and jump back.
On Mother’s side of the bed is a little table that looks the same as the one on Dad’s side. I pull open the drawer to check for the book that Mother was reading. I know the book is called Nightwood by Djuna Barnes. But the book is gone.
I run into Leo’s room. He’s sleeping on his stomach with his covers kicked off onto the floor. I sit at the bottom of his bed and shine the flashlight on his pillow. I’m pointing the flashlight at his sleeping face, but it doesn’t wake him up. His face looks very white and shiny, except for under his eyes are dark shadow spots.
I lie down on the floor in Leo’s kicked-off covers. There’s so much time in the night and I can’t fall asleep. I don’t want to be here in all of this time.
In the morning, I go downstairs and Cass is sitting with her feet tucked up on the soft, brown corduroy chair. The TV is on, but no sound is coming out of it.
Cass! I yell at her. I just woke up and I’m mad because she moved me back into my own bed.
Hang on, she says, I’m almost finished with this page. She’s reading and not looking at me.
I want to see the name of Cass’s book, but I can’t because she’s reading it behind her legs. I think she’s sitting like that to hide the book from me.
On TV, it’s The Snorks. Leo still likes to watch cartoons on Saturday mornings.
Where’s Leo? I ask.
She doesn’t answer.
I walk over and push the button to turn off the TV. I don’t like to watch cartoons because there aren’t any real people.
What? asks Cass and then she looks up at me.
Why’d you move me? I ask her.
Cass closes her book and tucks it next to her in the side of the chair.
I thought you’d sleep better in your bed, she says.
Don’t move me, I say.
Cass wraps her arms around her legs and rests her chin on her knees.
What’s wrong? she asks.
I don’t say anything.
Leo went to the library, she says, he’ll be back soon.
I sit down on the new couch and look at the empty, gray TV. I think about how the new couch isn’t new anymore. We used to have a brown corduroy couch that matched the brown corduroy chair. Then Mother got sick of it and she pulled it out onto the front lawn. Mother hurt her back trying to move the couch by herself.
I sat with Mother. It was funny to be sitting on a couch outside, in the middle of the grass. We played UNO and then the sun went down and we couldn’t see the cards anymore so we just sat. I got mosquito bites all over and Mother held my hands so I wouldn’t itch. When we went inside, Mother put pink calamine lotion on my bites. She blew on each bite to make the lotion dry and that felt cold and good. Then she blew in my ear to tickle me and I got shivery. The next morning, a truck came to take away the old couch. Mother watched and cried.
I hate being here and I hate the new couch so I throw all the pillows on the ground and then I stand up and kick the couch hard. The kick hurts my toes. I have to sit down on the floor and squeeze my toes tight to make them stop hurting, but they hurt so bad, my eyes burn. I don’t want to cry.
It’s an ugly couch! I scream at Cass.
She gets up from the brown chair.
It’s not my fault, Sebby, she says. She tries to pick me up, but I lean forward a
nd make myself heavy so she can’t move me.
I’m crying now and Cass lets go. She sits next to me on the floor.
Calm down, Cass says, please.
Where’s Mother’s book? I ask her.
What? asks Cass.
Mother’s book that’s called Nightwood, I say. It’s not in the drawer. My voice sounds like I have a cold, because I’m crying.
Oh, Cass says, I’m just borrowing it, Sebby, I promise that I’ll put it back.
But where is it? I ask her again.
Cass puts her hand on my shoulder. I push her hand away.
It’s up in my room, says Cass.
No, I tell her. I’m crying and it’s hard to talk.
You weren’t supposed to touch everything, I say. I take off my glasses and throw them at her.
I don’t understand you, Cass says. Sebby, please.
I lie down on the floor and cry. I don’t want to be here and have to look around for everything to be right. Nothing’s right. Time keeps making things happen. I lost the picture of Mother and now she’s gone.
Leo will be home soon, Cass says, he just went to return a book.
I’m crying with my face in the dark under the ugly, new couch.
Cass isn’t talking to me anymore and then her voice comes back.
Here, she says, drink some water. Will you sit up, please? If you drink this, says Cass, you’ll feel better.
The ice makes cold, cracking noises. I listen to Cass set the glass down on the table. I don’t want any water. I want to stay where I am on the floor.
Then I can hear the car driving up, crunching and popping over the gravel. Leo is home.
When he comes inside, Cass says, I don’t know what happened.
Leo sits down next to me and rolls me toward him. His face looks scared.
I let him hold me.
We’ll go for a drive, Leo says to Cass. He carries me out to the car and puts me in the backseat.
Cass’s voice says, I’m sorry, Sebby. Then the backseat door pops closed. I’m by myself. I hold my breath to try to stop crying now. It’s quiet inside the car. I like being by myself.
I remember when I got sick. My fever was so hot, Mother put me in the bath in the middle of the night. The water was cool. Mother dipped the washcloth in and then held it over my head so the water dripped on my face. I remember I was there, but also I wasn’t there. It was hot inside my head and I couldn’t think. Mother was talking to me and I was trying to listen, but I couldn’t. I could hear her voice and I knew she was with me so I didn’t try to listen anymore, and when I closed my eyes I was falling and falling backward. I could hear Mother’s voice and I could feel her holding me, but I wasn’t there.
Maybe that is what it’s like to die. I don’t want to live for a long time, because I lost Mother and now I have to find her.
Leo drives and doesn’t say anything.
I wait a long time and then I tell him, I want to go back to Dad.
Leo’s quiet.
Then he says, Okay, we’ll see, maybe in a few days.
Do you like pigeons and all kinds of birds? I ask.
Yeah, Leo says, the birds are descendants of the dinosaurs.
What? I ask.
Birds are like the dinosaurs’ children, he says. I watch the side of his face talking. Yellow morning light shines all around him.
Oh, I say, we can go home now.
Leo finds a movie to watch on TV. It’s an old, black-and-white movie with cowboys. I’m on the floor because I don’t want to be on the new couch. Cass brought me a pillow from upstairs to sit on. She’s not mad.
I don’t like the movie. The cowboys in it are real people, but they’re not like how people really are. I ask Leo if there are still cowboys today.
Sort of, he says.
The doorbell rings and Cass and Leo look at each other.
Mrs. Franklin again, Cass says to him, you get it this time.
Fine, says Leo. He goes over to answer the door.
Mrs. Franklin, our neighbor, gives Leo a hug and comes inside.
I made you an apple cobbler, she says.
Wow, thanks, Leo says and takes the brown grocery bag.
My goodness, says Mrs. Franklin when she sees me. How’s my handsome little boy? She’s smiling and blinking her big eyes.
We’re watching a cowboy movie, I tell her.
She bends over close and says, You’ll have to come and bake cookies with me.
I don’t say anything.
Sebby would love that, says Cass, how about I’ll give you a call?
Then Cass gets up and walks Mrs. Franklin to the door. Leo’s telling her thank you again for the cobbler. He gives Mrs. Franklin another hug and then she leaves.
Leo looks at his watch. Less than five minutes, he says, I think that’s a record.
Cass laughs and takes the bag with the cobbler into the kitchen.
What’s a cobbler? I ask.
Like a pie! Cass shouts from the other room.
Or a person who fixes shoes, Leo says.
Cass comes back over and sits down on the couch.
What’d I miss? she asks.
I don’t know because I haven’t been watching.
I close my eyes and think about Dad in the white house by himself. I don’t know if he is okay or not. In my head, I see him sleeping in the kitchen chair with his head resting on the table and that is good. I hope Dad is sleeping.
I ask Cass, Can we call Dad now?
Later, she says, we’ll call him after dinner.
To make the time go by, I try to fall asleep.
In the dream, I’m in a square pen made out of wire with so many tiny baby chicks. The baby chicks are soft white and soft yellow. It’s hard to move. If I move, I could step on a baby chick because they’re everywhere and it makes me dizzy how there are so many of them. Someone is laughing at me.
Sebastian, says Cass’s voice. I can hear Cass’s voice saying my name and then I am me again. Cass is shaking me awake.
Sebby, her voice says and I open my eyes. Her face is close to mine.
I have a sick feeling in my stomach.
You were crying, Cass says and she wipes my cheeks.
I don’t want to tell Cass my dream.
I’m sorry about before, says Cass. She stands up and holds out her hands.
I reach for her and then she pulls me up and I’m standing. I feel dizzy. I go into the bathroom and lock the door. The dream made me sick. I sit down in front of the toilet and I think I’m going to throw up. I rest my forehead on the cold seat and that feels better.
Are you all right? Cass’s voice asks and she knocks on the door.
Yes, I tell her and try to make my voice sound happy. I move my forehead over to a new cold spot on the toilet seat. I stay like that for a long time and think about Mother. For her tenth birthday, Grandpa Chuck gave her too many baby chicks. She told me how they scared her.
Cass’s voice comes back again.
Sebby, she says, please come out.
I’m tired and I don’t want anything else to happen to me. I want to be with Mother. I lift my head up off the toilet and walk over to open the door. Cass is standing right there.
You’re okay? she asks.
I nod.
I follow her into the kitchen and we sit down at the table.
Leo went out to get Kentucky Fried Chicken, says Cass.
I don’t know if I’m hungry or not.
We thought you’d want mashed potatoes and coleslaw, she says.
I put my forehead down to rest on the table. It doesn’t feel cold the way the toilet seat felt. I close my eyes.
Listen, Sebby, Cass says, tomorrow I’m taking you to the dentist and Leo will take you to get your haircut.
Fine, I say with my eyes still closed.
If you want to have Katya over that would be fun, says Cass.
I don’t want to think anymore.
I don’t know if she’s my friend, I tell her.
Cass is quiet and I’m glad, but then she starts talking again.
Do you want to see your teacher? Cass asks.
No, I say, I’m not going back to school.
Cass says, Sebby, you know, you’ll have to go back at some point.
Not now, I tell her.
Thanksgiving is Thursday, Cass says. The three of us can drive to the summerhouse, and if Dad is all right, you can stay with him.
Yes, I say. I think maybe Cass doesn’t have anything else to tell me and I can rest.
There’s a social worker, Cass says. Her name is Mrs. Alden. She’s going to want to come check on you and Dad.
Why? I ask.
To make sure Dad’s taking good care of you, says Cass.
He is, I tell her.
Cass nods.
I hear her scoot back from the table and get up. She walks away and her feet make noises like they’re sticking to the floor. I know that’s the sound feet make without any socks on. Mother didn’t like that sound. She always wore her red slippers and her feet swish-swished.
Cass turns on music. It’s the song I like with the man singing about a blister in the sun.
Dance with me, says Cass. She’s dancing with her hands up high over her head. She looks funny, but I don’t smile.
I shake my head no. I don’t want to dance. I don’t like to.
Then Cass says, Please, please. She gets down on her knees and puts her hands together like she’s praying.
I don’t want to smile, but I do. Cass grabs my hands and pulls me up. She holds my hands tight and moves me around to make me dance.
I sing with Cass. The song gets quiet, like a whisper.
Here it comes, she says.
I know the song’s going to get loud again.
It gives me the goose bumps, she says close to my ear.
It makes me feel like I have to pee, I tell her.
Up High in the Trees Page 13
