So, says their mom, these are my children—the lovely masks are courtesy of their father. She’s holding Baby Chester on her hip. This is Chester, she says to Dad, my youngest. Then she sits down again.
I have three children too, says Dad.
I’m sure yours are better behaved than mine, she says.
Well, Dad says, they’re older. He clears his throat and then doesn’t say anything else.
I watch Dad’s foot shaking.
Hey, says Jackson and he climbs over the back of the couch and sits down next to me.
Do you want to spend the night? he whispers. We can sleep in my tent.
Could I use your bathroom? Dad asks and stands up with his bad hand behind his back. He pushes back his hair with his other hand and I can see his hair is wet from sweating.
Of course, says Jackson’s mom, upstairs to the right.
Dad nods and sort of bows at the same time. Excuse me, he says.
Mom, Jackson says, Sebby wants to spend the night.
His mom looks at both of us.
We’ll see, she says. Baby Chester pushes down off her lap then and she lets him go. He starts walking in circles around the coffee table, knocking on it.
Knock-knock, he says. He keeps saying, Knock-knock. Jackson laughs at him and then Baby Chester laughs, too. He goes faster and faster around the table.
Shelly gets up and follows Baby Chester. She’s laughing and copying everything he does.
Jackson’s mom looks at me. She shakes her head. What am I going to do with them? she whispers.
How old are you? I ask her.
Where did that come from? she asks.
I don’t say anything.
I’m thirty-nine, she says. What do you think about that?
That’s good, I say, Mother died when she was forty-one years old.
Oh, she says and then looks down at her lap. You must miss her a lot, she tells me.
I lost her picture, I say.
She nods. When Baby Chester runs by her this time, she grabs him and pulls him back up onto her lap. Shelly runs over and climbs on her mom’s lap, too.
Jessica Rabbit is hot, Jackson whispers to me. Don’t you think so?
I look at the empty plastic mask of Jessica Rabbit’s face that’s lying on the floor.
Well, I say, she’s a cartoon and I don’t really like cartoons.
She’s hot, says Jackson. He tips back his head and looks at the ceiling.
I’m going to go check on the food, their mom says.
We’re eating a turkey for dinner, Shelly tells me. Then she turns around and follows their mom and Baby Chester into the kitchen.
Mom is making another Thanksgiving, since you missed it, says Jackson. He rolls up one of his pant legs. Above his knee, he shows me a very flat, brownish scab. It’s an eraser burn, he says.
I reach over and touch his scab with my finger. It’s not the kind of scab you can pick.
You erase your skin off until it bleeds, Jackson says. There’s a boy who made one three inches long on his arm. We measured it with a ruler.
Jackson pushes his pant leg back down.
It hurts? I ask him.
Sort of, he says.
How come you didn’t bring your camera? Jackson asks.
I shrug.
I wanted you to take a picture of me jumping, he says and wipes his nose on his hand. I want it so in the picture you can just see me in the air and it could look like I’m jumping off something really high.
Jackson’s mom comes out of the kitchen then.
I think we’re just about ready, she says. She looks up the stairs where Dad went. Do you want to go see about your dad? she asks.
I can feel something drop inside of me. My arms and legs and my whole body are heavy and I don’t want to move.
Jackson gets up with me and we walk over to the stairs.
Hey, Jackson, his mom says, let Sebby go.
But he keeps walking with me. I look down at his mom. She puts her hands in her pockets and smiles a small, flat smile with her lips pressed together.
The bathroom door is closed.
Dad, I say to the door.
There’s no answer.
Dad, I say and I knock. I try to turn the handle and the door opens.
Dad’s not inside.
Dad, I say again to nobody. I look behind the shower curtain.
Where is he? Jackson asks.
I don’t say anything.
He disappeared? asks Jackson.
I shake my head.
Jackson goes running downstairs.
He disappeared, Jackson’s yelling, Sebby’s dad disappeared!
I walk down the hallway.
Dad, I say. My voice has gone quiet. I step into the playroom, but I don’t see him anywhere.
I go into Jackson’s room and open the closet to look inside.
Then I walk into the blue room where Jackson’s mom sleeps. I can hear Dad talking. He’s talking the words to the song that Van Morrison sings, about girls walking home from school.
Dad, I say. My voice is still quiet.
He doesn’t answer me.
I get down on the floor and Dad is under the bed. He looks at me but keeps talking the words to the song.
Dad says the words about leaves falling and falling.
Dad, I say. It’s hard to talk. My eyes are burning. Tears are running hot down my cheeks.
Dad, please, I say.
Jackson’s mom finds us. She lies down next to me and sees Dad. He’s talking the words to the song and not looking at us.
It’ll be okay, Jackson’s mom says. Then she gets up. Come, she says and reaches her hands down to me.
I let her pull me up and we walk downstairs to the couch. Jackson and Shelly and Baby Chester are sitting, watching TV.
Where is he? asks Jackson.
Their mom doesn’t answer.
She says, I want you all to stay right here. Then she goes.
Where is he? Jackson asks me.
Upstairs, I say, and bite the inside of my cheek.
We watch the Nickelodeon show—the one where they dump green slime on people’s heads.
Cass is going to meet us at the hospital.
We’re in the waiting room. There are rows of chairs and, hanging on the wall, a TV with no sound. I’m holding a bottle of Coke. Jackson’s mom gave me a dollar to put in the soda machine. Now the bottle is making my hands cold and I want to throw it away.
I’m watching the door. I see Cass right when she walks in. Her eyes are looking everywhere. When she sees us, she puts up her hand to wave.
I’m Cass, my sister says.
Alison, says Jackson’s mom.
Then they hug each other.
His hand is badly bruised, so they’ve bandaged it and given him pain medication, says Jackson’s mom. She looks down at me and then back at Cass. Your father doesn’t want to see anyone right now, she says.
Cass bends down to me.
Are you okay? she asks.
I nod yes. It’s hard to talk. Cass keeps looking at my eyes. I look away.
Then Cass stands back up and says, You should go. We’ll be fine.
All right, says Jackson’s mom, call me.
I will, Cass says.
They hug each other again.
Sebastian, says Jackson’s mom. Then she doesn’t say anything else. She bends down and kisses my forehead before she goes.
Cass sits next to me. Do you want to take your coat off? she asks.
No, I tell her.
I walk over to the garbage can and throw away my bottle of Coke.
In the car I ask Cass, Where are we going?
Home, she says.
But we have to get Cham, I tell her.
Shit, she says, I forgot about the cat.
Cass pulls the car over to the side of the road. She reaches into the backseat for her bag.
I’m sorry, Cass says and pulls out her pack of cigarettes. I watch her light one. She takes i
t out of her mouth then and looks at it. With her other hand, she rolls down the window a little bit.
I thought he’d be fine at dinner, she says, he seemed better. She holds the tip of her cigarette out the window.
We sit there and Cass smokes her cigarette down until it’s small.
Who named the cat, anyway? asks Cass.
I put my hand on the cold window. It leaves a wet handprint.
Dad did, I tell her. Cham is short for champagne, because of the color of his fur.
Oh, she says and flicks her cigarette out the window. Cass pulls the car onto the road again. At the stoplight, she turns around and we drive the other way to go to the white house.
You know, says Cass, Dad has to stay in the hospital for a while. Things are all mixed up in his head and he needs to rest, she says.
I keep looking forward at the long, black road.
When can he get out? I ask her.
I’m not sure, says Cass.
I look out the side window at the tall trees. They’re gray and quiet in the dark.
I know where to find the cat. Cass follows me upstairs to the room where Dad sleeps. I turn on the light and see Dad’s bed with the covers all messed up. It looks like he’s still here. I don’t want to touch anything.
Cham, I say to the cat, it’s me. I get down on the floor and look under the bed. The cat is sleeping with his head tucked under his tail. I say his name again, but he doesn’t wake up, so I crawl underneath and pull him out.
Here, I say and hand him to Cass.
I’ll put him in the car, she says, you get your clothes and whatever else you want.
In my room, I pack lots of clothes and also the paper bag from under the bed into my green and blue duffel bag.
The old man holding a dead bird in his hand knows that I’m leaving. In my head, I’m telling him good-bye.
I turn off the light and run downstairs. The front door is open and Cass is standing outside, smoking another cigarette.
I’m going to run up and make sure we’re not leaving anything important, Cass says.
Okay, I tell her.
She drops her cigarette on the ground and steps on it.
I stand in the driveway, waiting. Everywhere is dark except for the red tip of Cass’s cigarette still glowing. I step on it to squish it all the way out.
Ready? asks Cass. She’s running down the front steps.
Yes, I say.
In the car, the cat’s meowing and walking back and forth across the backseat.
He never meowed this much before, I say. Dad thought maybe he couldn’t.
Well, lucky for us, says Cass, I guess he can. She backs out of the driveway and turns up the radio loud. The cat meows louder.
Fuck it, Cass says and shuts off the radio.
The cat’s meows are long and sad. If you really listen, then the sound sort of goes away. I close my eyes and try to sleep.
I was walking in circles around the white house. I could see Mother walking in front of me. She was a girl in a shiny blue nightgown.
I’m tired, I told her.
She kept walking.
Mother, I said, stop.
She turned around the corner and I went to the shed to sleep. I needed to sleep, just for a little bit.
Dear Ms. Lambert,
The song that got stuck in Dad’s head is called “Cypress Avenue.” Van Morrison says the same words over and over again when he sings and he wears black sunglasses. I asked Mother once if he was blind like Stevie Wonder. She laughed and said no.
We left Dad at the hospital and he has to stay.
I am back home now. I am here with Cass and Leo and the cat, Cham. Please don’t tell Katya.
I woke up in the night. I was trying very hard to think about Mother. I wanted to see her in my head, but I was only seeing myself. I saw myself jumping in the water and walking in circles around the white house. Then I stopped looking in my head and I saw my hands petting the cat on my lap. I was there on the floor in my room and now I am here at the kitchen table writing a letter. Mother is farther and farther away from me. I miss her.
Bye, Sebby
PICTURES
Cass is folding laundry on the couch—three piles, one for each of us. On TV, soldiers are riding trucks in Somalia. Cass has been watching all day.
Three hundred thousand people died there in the last year, she tells me again. They’re starving. Do you know how many people that is?
I don’t answer.
We forgot to bring the yellow bike, I tell her.
She folds a white T-shirt on her lap and then puts it in Leo’s pile.
Can I turn it off now? I ask. I don’t want to watch the soldiers anymore.
Fine, says Cass. She’s quiet and I don’t know if she’s mad or not. You want a bike? she asks.
I nod.
How about I buy you a new bike if you go back to school? she says.
I think about Ms. Lambert sitting on her desk in the front of the classroom. I think about what’s inside my desk: the two sharpened pencils and the purple pencil sharpener and the pack of skinny markers. I think about Katya. Her desk is in the third row and my desk is in the fourth row. I think about all the rows of desks and who sits at them.
Okay, I say to Cass.
Good, she says, it’s a deal.
I follow her to the kitchen. She opens the dishwasher and I watch how hot steam comes out.
Then I sit at the table and look at a book that Leo checked out of the library for me. It teaches you how to draw things by mixing easy shapes together. I open the book to a page with a race car track. The race car driver is made out of circles and rectangles.
Hey, says Cass. She puts her hand on my back.
Do you want to go visit Dad on Sunday? she asks.
Yes, I tell her. In my head I count forward to Sunday. Sunday is in four days. We’ve been home now for almost a whole week.
I was thinking, Cass says, we could make him some cookies. She sits down next to me at the table.
He likes the peanut butter kind, I tell her.
Right, Cass says. She looks at the picture in my book of the race car track. We could make a practice batch today, she says, for Mrs. Alden.
Mrs. Alden is the social worker. She’s coming to look at our house and see how we live.
The twelve o’clock news is coming on, says Cass. I want to watch. You stay here and draw, she tells me.
Then we’ll make cookies? I ask.
Okay, she says.
Leo drops his heavy red backpack in the hallway and runs to the bathroom. I stand outside the door and listen to him pee and then flush. He doesn’t turn on the sink to wash his hands.
Jesus, Leo says when he bumps into me on the way out.
What is it? he asks me.
I hand him the peanut butter cookie that I’m holding.
Eat it, I tell him.
Okay, Leo says. He takes a bite.
We walk to the kitchen together and I watch him chew. Cass is sitting at the table, reading her book about where to go to college. She looks up at Leo.
Hey, she says to him, you heard, the troops had no problems so far.
Yeah, says Leo.
Does it taste very good? I ask him. We made them for Dad, I say.
Leo takes one of the tall glasses out of the cabinet and then opens the refrigerator. He holds the cookie in his mouth and pours his glass full of milk.
It’s good, Leo says. I like them a little saltier, though. He puts the milk back in the refrigerator and takes out his jar of pickles.
He likes them saltier, I tell Cass.
I heard, she says. She keeps reading her book.
I sit down with Leo.
The cookie’s good, he says. Will you stop staring at me now?
Okay, I say. I look at my hands on the table and fold them together like how you pray.
Can you take him to the library with you? Cass asks Leo. I think he needs to get out of the house for a while, she says.
I look at him and then remember not to.
Maybe I’ll go to Reed College, Cass says.
Where’s that? Leo asks.
Oregon, says Cass.
Shit, Leo says, you’re going to go all the way to Oregon?
Cass shrugs and looks back at her book.
Maybe I’ll go to Vassar, she says.
Leo doesn’t say anything. He closes his jar of pickles and stands up.
Ready to go? he asks me.
I follow him out to the hallway. Leo helps me put on my green coat and he zippers it up, but not all the way to my chin.
See ya, Leo says to Cass.
Bye, she says. I have to go grocery shopping and then I’ll come pick you guys up around six.
Outside, our tree in the front yard looks skinny and cold. We walk fast. Leo’s wearing a dark blue sweater and no jacket. He walks in front of me with his hands in his pockets. I can see my breath. It’s like a tiny cloud in the air and then it disappears. When I breathe out all the hot air from inside of me then I make a bigger cloud that lasts longer.
Are you going to go to college like Cass? I ask Leo.
Yeah, he says.
When are you going to go? I ask.
Leo turns around and looks at me and then faces forward again.
A year and a half, he says, when I finish high school.
Oh, I say. I think about Cass gone and Leo gone, too.
Are you going to go to the same college as Cass? I ask.
No, he says. He starts walking faster now.
I let him get way ahead of me so I have to run to catch up. I keep letting him get ahead and then I run to where he is. Leo turns around.
What’re you doing? he asks.
I don’t say anything. This time when I catch up, I hold on to the back of his sweater. He lets me hold on the rest of the way to the library.
Inside is really warm. Leo takes off his sweater and then unzips my jacket for me. I follow him to the long table by the window. Leo sits down with his backpack on his lap and after he takes everything out, he reaches up tall and stretches.
I’m going to the kids’ room, I tell him.
Up High in the Trees Page 16
