Up High in the Trees

by Kiara Brinkman

  Cass laughs. We sing the loud part together as loud as we can.

  When Leo comes in and sets the two bags of food on the table, Cass tells him to dance. He does the funny dance like he’s swimming, going down underwater with one finger pointing up at the ceiling. Cass and I do it, too.

  Then the song’s over and Cass turns off the music.

  So what’s better, Leo asks, a song that goes quiet and then gets loud or a song that has a fake ending and then starts up again?

  The food smells good and makes me hungry.

  Why does it matter? Cass says.

  Leo puts his hands in his pockets.

  Well, he says, because they’re two different things.

  Cass shakes her head. She sets out the place mats and tells Leo to get plates.

  We all sit down. There are six chairs at the table, so now we have three extra.

  This food is so greasy, says Cass. She wipes her hands on one of the napkins and pushes her plate away.

  Did you see the new clothes I got you? she asks me.

  No, I tell her.

  I left the bag up in your room, Cass says. I’ll get it. She goes and I can hear her feet running up the stairs.

  Ants in her pants, Leo says. He makes a funny face and wiggles around. I laugh.

  Cass comes back with a white shopping bag. She pulls out a sweater and holds it up to show me. It’s green with light blue and brown stripes.

  You like it? she asks.

  I nod.

  She takes out another sweater. This one is light blue with a white polar bear on it.

  Polar bears are vicious, Leo tells us.

  Great, says Cass. She looks at Leo and rolls her eyes.

  Then she shows me the pants. New jeans and new pairs of brown and blue pants.

  Shoes, too, Cass says and pulls out a pair of dark gray sneakers. I didn’t want to get white, she says, because they look dorky when they’re clean and you’re so careful.

  Can I see? I ask her.

  She hands me the shoes. The bottoms have a wavy line pattern with a big circle dot on the heel and smaller circle dots like toe prints. I trace over the lines and the circles with my finger.

  They’re good, I tell Cass.

  I have something for you, too, Leo says, hang on. He stands up and, wiping his greasy hands on his pants, he goes.

  Cass starts to clean the table. She crinkles up the bag that the food came in and throws it away, then takes our plates over to the sink and turns on the water.

  Sebby, she says, is there anything else you need?

  I don’t know, I tell her.

  Okay, she says. Cass just stands there with the water running. I want to run over and shut it off.

  Leo comes back and hands me a thick book.

  It’s the Guinness Book, says Leo. It has all kinds of facts about anything you want to know about.

  Thanks, I tell him.

  The book is heavy on my lap. The cover says, 1985 Guinness Book of World Records. There’s a picture of a giant watermelon next to a laughing baby and a picture of E.T. and also, a picture of fancy shoes with jewels. Leo points to the shoes.

  Each one is worth twenty-six thousand dollars, he says. Then he points to the watermelon. It weighs two hundred fifty-five pounds, he tells me.

  Leo memorized the whole book, Cass says and she laughs.

  I think about the whole heavy book inside of Leo’s head and then I think about 1985. In 1985 I was only one and Mother was still going to be alive for a long time.

  I’ll read it all, I tell Leo. I rub my hand over the smooth, hard cover.

  You don’t have to, says Leo. He’s sitting with his elbow up on the table, holding his chin in his hand.

  Can we call Dad now? I ask.

  Cass nods. She gets up and dials the number on the phone. The dialing sounds like a song.

  Cass says, Hi Dad, it’s me. Sebby’s been wanting to talk to you. She hands me the phone.

  I tell him that I’m coming back.

  I’ll be there on Thursday, I say, and on Thursday it’s going to be Thanksgiving.

  Dear Ms. Lambert,

  Dad is alone in the white house and Mother is dead with the baby, Sara Rose. I want to be with Dad and also with Mother, but they’re never going to be together in the same place anymore.

  I am here at home.

  Cass says soon I have to go back to school. I don’t want to yet. Sorry.

  I do like you and I like how your black and white chapstick smells.

  Bye, Sebby

  From my bag of new clothes, I pick out blue pants and the polar bear sweater to wear. They smell kind of spicy clean from hanging up in the store and not being washed yet. I get dressed and then look in the mirror. I like how I look.

  Katya is coming. I do want to see her, but it’s strange how she doesn’t know about the white house or Jackson or all the things I can remember. I don’t want her to know.

  I’m looking at my eyes in the mirror. I think about Katya’s eyes. Hers are brown with yellow. I like Katya’s eyes better than mine.

  Sebby, Cass says.

  I open my door. Cass is waiting for me in the hall.

  Oh, she says, you look very nice.

  Then she kisses my forehead and I wipe it off.

  Katya is different.

  Here, she says. She gives me a box wrapped in red and green Christmas wrapping paper.

  Cass is standing behind me.

  How nice, Cass says. Do you want Sebby to open it now?

  Yes, please, says Katya. She’s not wearing her yellow sweater or her green sweater either. She’s wearing a pink sweatshirt that says GAP in big white letters.

  Open it, Sebby, Katya says.

  I peel off a piece of tape very slowly so I don’t rip the wrapping paper.

  Faster, says Katya.

  I look at her. I can see the yellow in her eyes.

  You do it, I say and hand her the box.

  She rips off the paper and throws it on the floor.

  There, she says and hands the box back to me.

  I open the lid and look. It’s a handkerchief.

  Katya says, I sewed the S and Nana did the other sewings.

  I look at the blue S.

  Thank you, says Cass and she pinches my shoulder.

  Thank you, I tell Katya.

  What do you have in your room? Katya asks.

  Go show her, Cass says, I’ll be here if you need me.

  Katya walks next to me all the way up the stairs and down the hall. In my room, I show her my box of Lincoln Logs.

  I also have card games, I tell her, I have regular cards and UNO.

  Katya sits down on the floor.

  She says, Do you know that Mr. Martin and Mr. Lamowski are gay together?

  I shake my head no. Mr. Martin was my second-grade teacher.

  Katya says, I know your mother is dead.

  I don’t say anything. I can feel all the hairs on the back of my head and neck. It’s a prickly feeling.

  A lot of people are dead now, Katya says, that’s what happens to people. Sit, she tells me.

  I sit down on the floor with her. The carpet is light brown with pieces of dark brown mixed in. I run my hands back and forth over the scratchy carpet.

  My grandpa is dead, Katya says. She pulls a piece of her long hair over to her mouth and sucks on the end of it. When she takes it out, her hair is wet and stuck together.

  What do you do when you’re not going to school? Katya asks. She pulls another piece of hair to her mouth and sucks on the end.

  I shrug.

  If you want to love me, Katya says, we have to touch our tongues.

  Now? I ask her.

  Katya sticks out her tongue and leans forward to me. I stick out my tongue, too, and then our tongues touch.

  You love me, says Katya.

  Okay, I say.

  Katya stands up. I look at her shoes. They’re clean white shoes with pink laces.

  You got new shoes, I tell her.<
br />
  I know, Katya says.

  I look up at her.

  Do you know any jokes? I ask. I have to learn jokes so I can be a stand-up comedian.

  I don’t think any of the jokes are funny, says Katya.

  She’s looking down at her shoes now.

  Do you sometimes want to have a broken arm? she asks.

  No, I tell her.

  I know how to make you a cast that will look so real, Katya says.

  I got new shoes, too, I say.

  Katya looks at my feet and nods.

  Come, she says, I will make a cast for you on your arm. We have to be in the bathroom for making the cast, Katya says.

  She follows me to the upstairs bathroom.

  Take off your sweater, says Katya.

  I take off my sweater and look at myself in the mirror in my white T-shirt. I watch in the mirror how Katya touches my arm.

  Okay, she says and pulls me over to the sink. She rips off pieces of toilet paper and puts them in a pile. Then, one at a time, she makes the pieces wet and wraps them around my arm. She covers my whole arm in wet pieces and then she puts dry pieces over the wet ones.

  Do you look at your eyes in the mirror? I ask her.

  No, she says.

  Katya keeps working on my arm.

  Now you hold it very still, she says, and it will be dry.

  I look at my arm and try to hold it still. The cast looks a little bit real.

  Sebby, Cass calls for me.

  What?! I yell back at her.

  She finds us then in the bathroom.

  What’re you guys up to in here? she asks.

  Look, Katya says and I hold out my cast.

  Wow, says Cass. She’s smiling at Katya.

  We can go for a walk now, Katya says, but he is too sick because of his broken arm, so I must push him in a wheelchair.

  No, I say. I look at Cass.

  It’s cold outside, Cass says.

  The cold is good for you to breathe, says Katya.

  Well, we don’t have a wheelchair, Cass says. Maybe we still have the red wagon in the garage.

  Good, Katya says.

  No, I say. I’m looking at Cass, but she won’t look at me.

  I don’t want to go, I say.

  Please, says Katya.

  Cass crosses her arms. Be a good sport, she says to me, Katya is your friend.

  Cass grabs my arm that’s not in the fake cast and we walk downstairs. The garage is so full of old stuff, there’s no room for a car.

  Stay here, Cass says and lets go of my arm. She knows where to look for the wagon.

  Katya stands next to me. The garage is cold and my teeth start to chatter. I look at our tree in the front yard. It’s just sticks now.

  Cass finds the wagon in the very back corner. Holding it up over her head, she carries it to me and Katya.

  He’s cold, Katya says.

  Cass pulls down the old blue blanket that’s folded on top of a box. She wraps it around me. The blanket smells old and dirty like the garage.

  Get in, Katya says to me. She’s holding the wagon handle.

  Go ahead, says Cass.

  I get in the wagon. Cass tucks the blanket under me and wraps it around me tight. Then Katya pulls me down the driveway. The wagon bumps over gravel and that makes the inside of my head buzz. I turn around and look at Cass. She waves.

  Don’t stay out too long, she says.

  Then I hold up my hand that’s not in the fake cast and I stick up my middle finger at Cass. I’ve never stuck up my middle finger at anyone before, but I know what it means and I mean it.

  On the way to the white house, Cass and Leo take turns driving. I fall asleep across the backseat and then we’re there.

  Dad’s music is playing too loud. Inside, I have to cover my ears and listen through my hands. The Beatles are singing about a hard day’s night.

  Leo and Cass follow me upstairs to where Dad’s lying on the floor next to his speakers.

  Cass turns down the music. What are you doing? Cass asks and Dad sits up.

  I’m having a Beatles party, he says.

  What? Leo asks.

  A Beatles party, says Dad. I’m playing all the songs in order. Some songs I have to listen to more than once, he says, because they’re too good.

  In order of the American release or the UK release? Leo asks. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

  American, Dad says.

  Oh, Leo says and walks away.

  It’s Thanksgiving, Cass tells Dad.

  I know, says Dad. He lies back down on the floor and folds his arms across his chest.

  Shouldn’t we make a turkey? Cass asks.

  I’m not very hungry, Dad says, whatever you want.

  Cass turns the music back up then. The Beatles are singing about how they should’ve known better.

  Come on, says Cass. She grabs my wrist and pulls me downstairs to the kitchen. Leo’s already sitting there at the table.

  Do you want to have Thanksgiving or not? she asks Leo.

  I don’t care, he says.

  Cass pulls me so that I’m standing in front of her.

  Do you care? she asks me.

  I shrug.

  Let’s just go then, Cass says. What’s the point?

  No, I say, and I run through the house, out the back door. I hide in the shed with the gasoline smell and nothing moving. I hold very still and wait.

  We don’t have to leave! Leo’s voice shouts. Sebby where are you?

  In here! I yell.

  Leo finds me. Come on, he says, it’s freezing.

  CYPRESS AVENUE

  In the morning, Dad’s still having a Beatles party. I lie down on the floor next to him and listen to the song. It’s about a girl who comes in through the bathroom window. I know all the words.

  The volume is turned down low. Cass made him keep it that way for the night so we could sleep. I reach out and twist the knob. I like to make the music get louder and then softer again, because it sounds like the music is coming closer and then going away. Dad covers his ears. He hates when I do this.

  Not now, Sebby, Dad says.

  I stop playing with the volume.

  What time is it? he asks.

  I don’t know what time it is now, but when I woke up, the clock in the kitchen said 6:37.

  After six-thirty-seven, I tell Dad.

  He rolls over onto his side and looks at me.

  I’ve been listening for almost sixteen hours, says Dad. His breath smells bad.

  I ask him where the cat is.

  Probably under the bed, he says.

  Cass is mad at you, I tell him.

  Dad puts his heavy arm across my chest. He whispers to me, The party’s almost over.

  We listen to the song about going back home.

  Cass is making soup and I’m helping. We found a red stool under the sink for me to stand on so I can chop the carrots.

  Is he ever planning to come downstairs? asks Cass.

  He’s asleep, I tell her.

  I’ll wake him up for lunch, Leo says.

  Leo’s sitting at the kitchen table playing a card game by himself. Last night, he taught me how to play gin rummy and we waited a long time for Cass to come back from the grocery store. She drove all over looking for a turkey, but there weren’t any left.

  I have to use one of the regular knives to cut the carrots since Cass won’t let me use the big knife. It’s hard to cut with and I have to keep resting my hand.

  We’re making birthday soup, like Mother used to make on everyone’s birthday, except we don’t know what the secret ingredient is. Mother wouldn’t tell us until we grew up and had our own kids. Today isn’t anyone’s birthday, but Cass said that doesn’t matter.

  What’s your favorite Christmas song? Leo asks.

  It’s too early for Christmas songs, Cass says. She’s stirring the soup with one hand and adding salt with the other.

  It’s just a question, says Leo.

  “Li
ttle Drummer Boy,” says Cass. You?

  “O Holy Night,” Leo says, just for the fall-on-your-knees part.

  Yeah, you would like that one, Cass says.

  Leo laughs.

  I like the song that’s about parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, I say.

  That’s not a Christmas song, says Leo.

  I stop chopping the carrots.

  But I like listening to it for Christmas, I tell him, it sounds right.

  I agree, Cass says and smiles at me.

  Dad comes into the kitchen then.

  Birthday soup, he says, smells good.

  Cass is staying here with us, I tell him.

  Sebby, she says, you can’t keep your mouth shut for five damn minutes.

  Cass pushes on my shoulder and I have to step down off the stool so I don’t fall.

  Who’s going to be with Leo? Dad asks. He sits down at the table.

  Leo’s shuffling his cards. Jesus, he says, I’m a big boy—I can take care of myself.

  I get back up on the stool and keep cutting the carrots.

  Want to play rummy? Leo asks.

  Sure, says Dad.

  It wouldn’t even be a problem if we all stayed at home like normal people, Cass says. She takes the carrots from me and dumps them in the soup even though some of the pieces are too big.

  I go over to the table and watch Dad and Leo playing cards.

  We can deal you into the next round, Leo says.

  I don’t want to play, I say.

  Dad lets me sit on his lap.

  Do you know the secret ingredient? I ask him.

  The secret ingredient is for growing and being happy and strong.

  She never told me either, says Dad.

  Leo wakes me up early to say good-bye. I follow him downstairs.

  Dad’s awake, standing by the door. You’re sure you don’t want to go out for breakfast first? Dad asks.

  I have to get going, says Leo.

  Dad and I watch him put on his coat and boots.

  Well, Leo says.

  I’ll walk you out, says Dad.

  Me too, I say.

  Not dressed like that, Dad tells me.

  So I put on my coat and new gray shoes. I can slip my feet in without even untying them.

  Then I run out and Leo’s sitting in the green car with it already running and the door open. Dad’s using the scraper to get the ice off all the windows.