Jam Sandwiches

by Greg Fowler

  Part of the reason Eddy didn’t notice it initially was because of what Grandma Daisy had done. Mr Tree was not dead, that would take much more than her frenzied hands alone could achieve, but Mr Tree was in a bad, bad way. If the vibrations had been anywhere near what they had been, Eddy would have picked them up straight away, the same way we recognise the footfalls of our nearest and dearest.

  No, the sensation that brought Eddy’s attention back around was something entirely different altogether. It wasn’t so much a vibration as a hum, the sort of hum you’d expect if you could actually feel sound, and even then, that wasn’t overly removed from what he usually got from Mr Tree. What seemed to have altered, Eddy was sure, was that the direction of flow had switched.

  Yes, yes it had.

  Eddy sat up, keeping his hand upon the stricken limb, and concentrated on the feeling within. There was definitely something strange going on and if he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn that, just as Mr Tree had breathed a new life into him, he was now breathing vitality back into Mr Tree.

  Of course Eddy didn’t know this for certain…but as Eddy had come to learn, there was knowing and then there was ‘knowing’.

  Take from me Mr Tree. Take what you need and be well again.

  Eddy lay back down again and for the rest of the night long he willed the flow from within to without…a transfusion like none other.

  33. COLD, CLEAN AND A SPRINKLE OF SUGAR

  Grandma Daisy was up early…really early.

  ‘Get in the shower Eddy and don’t think about getting out until I say so.’ Then she was gone again.

  Eddy dragged himself out of bed as quick as he could but he was shattered, absolutely shattered. It had a bit more behind it than a lack of sleep, he knew that, but he also wasn’t prepared to earn a second helping of Grandma Daisy’s temper either. So he slipped out of his clothes (no pyjama’s last night) and trudged up the hallway to where the running shower was waiting for him.

  At first the water was good, it rejuvenated him, but after a while it started getting cool and eventually it turned frigid. Eddy knew the tricks of the trade though and when it got unbearable he huddled into the far corner of the shower cubicle, his back to the icy downpour. Typically he’d only be a few shivering minutes in this position before Grandma Daisy gave him permission to get out but today she seemed to take an eternity. He wasn’t going to budge though. Not after last night.

  When she finally did come to his rescue she was as abrupt as ever. Virtually throwing the towel at him, she never so much as said another word before she sent Eddy back to his bedroom with a push of her hand between his shoulders.

  Her brashness stood in stark contrast to what he found when he stepped back into his room. The pile of broken limbs and shredded leaves had disappeared entirely. The floor had been vacuumed so that, to Eddy’s eyes at least, it made the carpet look brand new and, most surprising of all, sitting there on his desk was the breakfast tray. Going even one better than that, not only was breakfast waiting for him (he hadn’t expected anything to eat today to be honest), it was a full step up from the usual wheat bix and water. Today he’d been treated to cornflakes with, believe it or not, a sprinkle of sugar and a full glass of orange juice. Eddy felt like royalty.

  The trouble was, no matter how fine it tasted and no matter how tidy his room was, it only made the painful existence of his once amazing tree all the more stark. Compared to what it had been only this time yesterday, it was reduced to a patchwork of sticks like the exposed ribs of an emancipated old man.

  ‘Hi Eddy.’

  ‘H..hi R..r…reagan.’ Eddy walked over to the side window and found her regarding him with sad, sad eyes.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘F…fine.’

  ‘How’s your tree?’

  Eddy surveyed the damage all over again; the severed limbs showing splinters like snapped bones, the bark stripped back to show the flesh of tender wood.

  ‘I d…don’t know.’ In a way that was true but in another way it wasn’t quite the truth. He didn’t know for certain if Mr Tree would ever recover. The immutable fact of Grandma Daisy might yet have something to say about that. But after the experience of last night, that incredible sense of giving something back, he couldn’t deny a twinkle of hope.

  34. SOMETHING’S CHANGED

  Three things were a constant for the next few days. Grandma Daisy strutted about as though nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened, Eddy dedicated all his free time to the goal of making Mr Tree better, and, finally, Reagan was there for him.

  The Reagan thing was important too because, right now at least, she was the only one of the three that gave. The other two, each in their own way, seemed to drain him and he felt diminished because of it.

  On that very next Monday, when Reagan packed herself off to school, Eddy sat with Mr Tree for a while and then, when he felt he had nothing left to give, he gathered himself up and took his spot at the front window. He wasn’t feeling too hot today and if he’d had a mirror in his room he would’ve been struck by the deep, dark circles under his eyes. Worse than that though, were the eyes themselves. He would’ve noticed how they stared back at him, faded and unfocused, devoid of the new life that had begun to dwell within him.

  And so it was with this pale outlook that he watched Mrs Elsdon approach. Today was a particularly cold day with the promise of rain just around the corner and she was tucked up in a heavy jacket that went all the way down past her knees. Usually on days like today she wouldn’t risk her health. She’d told him that when you get older you got to be a magnet for every bug, cold and fever going around. It was like they could smell the weakness of age on you. Right now, Eddy sort of understood what she was talking about.

  So the fact that she was out here in the winter chill was a signal she had something on her mind. She was lonely. Cold days alone in her big, old house could be very lonely indeed.

  ‘Hi there Eddy. Cold enough for ya?’

  ‘H…hi Mrs Elsdon. Y…y…you shouldn’t b…be outside today.’

  ‘Oh I’ll be alright for a little while at least.’ She patted her hefty jacket. ‘I’ve got Ben’s old coat on. Weighs a tonne but it does the job.’

  ‘Well, j…just b…be careful.’

  ‘I will. Don’t worry, I will. By the way, how’s that tree of yours? I can’t believe there’s leaves still on it out here. Didn’t somebody tell it it’s winter.’

  Eddy didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. That inside his bedroom, his wonderful, most amazing tree had been reduced to naked wood and splintered sticks. That no matter how hard he tried and how much it took from him, it hadn’t changed a bit since Grandma Daisy had ripped it to shreds. No, he couldn’t possibly tell her that.

  ‘Y..yep. It’s fine Mrs Elsdon.’

  ‘Are you alright Eddy? You don’t look too well and that’s coming from an old lady with dodgy eyes.’

  ‘I…um, I’m f…fine. J…just a bit tired.’

  ‘Okay, well you make sure you keep warm.’

  ‘I w..will.’

  Mrs Elsdon shot him a suspicious glance. The sort loving mothers and grandmothers give when they’re a little concerned about one of their loved ones. It stuck out a mile for Eddy. He wasn’t used to seeing them.

  ‘I p…promise,’ he finished off for good order.

  ‘Good. Can’t have my favourite neighbour sick in bed can we?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Who would I come and bore the socks of then?’

  ‘You d…don’t b..bore me Mrs Elsdon.’

  ‘You know Eddy, from most kids your age I’d say they were lying through their teeth but I actually believe you.’

  ‘Th…that’s ‘cause it’s t…true.’

  Mrs Elsdon smiled one of her gentle smiles.

  ‘Thank you, Eddy. I know I’ve said it time and time before but that’s because I mean it so much. It has been an absolute pleasure getting to know you. It’s been a long and lonely t
wilight with Ben gone this many years but these last few weeks I’ve felt…well…connected to the world again. That doesn’t mean to say that I don’t still miss him. The good Lord knows I do. But I believe in you Eddy. I believe that the things you tell me come from a special place. You’ve got a gift.’

  Eddy stayed silent as Mrs Elsdon shuffled through her head for the right way to get her message across.

  ‘You’ve given me comfort. Because I have the peace of knowing that he’s still there, waiting for me when my time comes.’

  ‘I guess it’s sort of like Christmas in a way. Christmas when you’re a kid Eddy. Sometimes it’s so hard to wait but there’s something wonderful about knowing that each new day is another day closer. And in the meantime, I can be patient and I can enjoy life again. I can see the beautiful things around me again…and Eddy, you’re one of them as far as I’m concerned.’

  Eddy didn’t quite know what to say. Nobody had called him beautiful before. He had a funny face, he spoke even funnier and he wasn’t particularly smart. That wasn’t beautiful. In fact, from his perspective, this whole conversation was the wrong way around. The satisfaction he got from helping her was immense and it was to that end he let his mind go loose and he reached for her…or better yet, reached for Mr Elsdon.

  …come on!……

  He knew he shouldn’t be trying so hard. The key was in not trying at all. To allow the knowledge to meet halfway. But there was a brick wall where once there had been a garden path and, no matter how hard he pushed and pulled within, he couldn’t get past it.

  Please…please, come on.

  It wouldn’t budge. It just would budge an inch.

  I can’t let Mrs Elsdon down. She needs me. She especially needs me today.

  Nothing.

  What’s happening to me?

  Eddy let go altogether, too exhausted to go back in, and distraught that his ‘gift’ had deserted him when Mrs Elsdon so needed it. He didn’t want to let her down…not today. And he wasn’t about to.

  ‘C…can you tell m..me more about him Mrs Elsdon.’

  ‘Ben?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Where do I start?’

  ‘T..tell me again about th…the day that y..you met. I l..like that story.’

  Mrs Elsdon smiled. It just happened to be one of her favourites too.

  35. WHERE’S IT GONE?

  ‘Reagan?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘C…can I h…have a look at your En…english book?’

  ‘Sure.’ Reagan was halfway across Mr Tree in a flash and tossed the book the rest of the way. Eddy didn’t try and catch it, catching wasn’t his thing, so he let it flutter by and picked it up off the floor.

  He’d seen this book a few times before. It was the one that talked about, of all things ‘Grandma’, except, as Reagan kept reminding him, it was ‘grammar’. She said that their teacher had told them that grammar was the glue that stuck language together…whatever that meant.

  Reagan made it obvious she didn’t much care for English, she did like geography though. She did a project about China for her geography class and got an ‘A’ for it too. Eddy had seen the big ‘A’ on the front page when she’d brought it home. She’d been so proud of it too. Her Mum and Dad had taken her out to dinner that night. It’d been a pity her Dad had ruined the night by getting kicked out of the restaurant for being too noisy. But still, it had been an awesome project.

  The reason Eddy had taken to this particular book was because it’d been the trigger for some of those wonderfully fulfilling ‘click’ moments. Those flashes of understanding where all the stars seemed to line up and something that didn’t make sense before suddenly revealed itself in brilliant, white light. He knew exactly where they’d been in this book and he needed to test something out.

  Flicking through to the right section, the one with the picture of a man holding a big question mark, Eddy began to read. Or, more specifically and much to his dismay, he tried to read. Some of the words made sense, but they were the small ones, the easy ones. A lot of them though had reverted to nothing more than a bunch of letters with no apparent rhyme nor reason. It was like his old jigsaw puzzles. Some pieces fitted and some didn’t and without all the pieces in place the picture escaped him.

  The most dismaying thing, the thing that sent the adrenalin rushing though his body, was that only a month ago he’d read this very section and it had made sense. It had made all the sense in the world. Now, not only did he not comprehend the message in the paragraph, he couldn’t even get his head around the words.

  Eddy put the book down, his head was too helter skelter to even look at another page let alone try and decipher it.

  ‘Reagan?’

  ‘Yep.’ She was back in her room doing something he couldn’t quite see.

  ‘S…something’s wrong.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘M..my head’s g…gone dumb.’

  ‘Don’t be silly Eddy.’

  Eddy tried not to be but it was starting to look like he had no say in this particular subject.

  36. REAGAN’S BAD DAY

  Eddy was going back through his learning books when the noises broke out next door. The noises had been more common lately but these particular noises sounded worse than normal. They had a bite to them that had Eddy worried, and he wasn’t even in the same house.

  Where’s Reagan?

  Mr Crowe still hadn’t found a job and, as Reagan had told him, he didn’t even buy the newspaper anymore. Eddy wasn’t quite sure what that had to do with anything but if Reagan said it mattered, then it probably did.

  What Mr Crowe did do was go out for a walk every day after the rest of the household had packed off to work or school. He’d walk in the opposite direction of the school and about half an hour later he’d be back with a yellow plastic bag swinging by his side. Eddy didn’t know for sure, but from the way the things in that bag clinked sometimes, he figured these were the ‘grown up’ drinks that Reagan had warned him about.

  Not only that, but a small, eyesore collection of cigarette butts was beginning to accumulate down at the base of Mr Tree. Eddy didn’t like that one bit. Cigarettes, as far as he was concerned, were bad and dangerous. They had fire in them and fire burned things, especially wood.

  Mr Crowe was smoking them and then throwing them out the window downstairs. Sometimes the smoke was still coming out of them too. Grandma Daisy’s demolition job in his bedroom was one thing, burning the entire tree, and probably both houses to go with it, was something else altogether. Lately it hadn’t been all that unusual for Eddy to waste his morning glass of water by tipping, or at least attempting to tip it on the smoking guns below.

  He would never say anything to Reagan about it. He didn’t want to put that pressure on her but she did take things into her own hands on occasion. Not that she’d confront her Dad at all. That wouldn’t be a wise thing to do. Instead she’d get out there with a plastic bag (usually a yellow one) and pick them all up. She was good that way. He never needed to say a thing.

  Eddy, who had been trudging through his learning books at the foot of his bed (so he could have his hand on Mr Tree), put the book down and peeked out the window. The last thing he wanted was to be snapped being nosy. If Mr Crowe was as angry as he sounded, no one was safe…not even next door neighbours.

  There were a few cigarette butts assembling down there again but other than that, it appeared that the only window open in the Crowe household was Reagan’s. That meant that the tirade he heard from up here must be ten times as worse in there.

  I hope you’re okay.

  You know where I am if you need me.

  Eddy nearly bumped his head on the window pane when Reagan charged into her room and collapsed on her bed in huge lung stretching sobs.

  He’d never really seen her cry before, not all out like this and for a moment he didn’t know what to do. She’d been there for him in his time of need…but then there was Mr Crowe. What if he came up? He w
as still going at it somewhere down there and Mrs Crowe was joining in too. That was not a good sign.

  Something crashed, something banged.

  Reagan pounced off her bed, but only long enough to slam her door shut and lose herself back in the duvet.

  Enough was enough.

  As stealthily as he could, Eddy climbed out on to Mr Tree and snuck along the branches to where he could reach out and touch Reagan’s window ledge.

  ‘Are y…you okay?’

  ‘No.’ Reagan’s back heaved up and down and Eddy could imagine the tears on her face.

  ‘Oh.’ He had to think about this. ‘Wh…what happened?’

  Reagan said something but Eddy had no way of telling what it was. It was muffled by her bedclothes.

  ‘Oh.’

  What to do?

  ‘Do you w…want me to c…come in?’

  Reagan just kept crying and Eddy had about decided to make her mind up for her when he got the fright of his life. Her bedroom door flew in as quick as any Grandma Daisy bad day and in came Mr Crowe. If his attention had been any less focussed on his daughter he would have spotted Eddy easily. As it was Eddy got lucky. If you can call nearly falling out of a tree lucky that is. Instead he caught himself a painful blow where no boy ever wants to be hit and, through some miracle of willpower, held in the gut wrenching groan. The only benefit of landing the way he did was that his head fell below the window line, out of view and out of harm’s way.

  ‘I’ll teach you to talk to me like that young lady.’

  ‘No dad…please don’t.’

  Eddy obviously couldn’t witness what went on next but unfortunately he didn’t need too much imagination.

  The whacks were vicious and Reagan’s screams were piercing. At one point she’d pleaded with him, telling her how much she loved him…but still he didn’t stop.

  Eddy sat there through it all. He hated Mr Crowe for this but, even worse, he hated himself. He hated himself for being weak. He hated himself for being scared and, most of all, he hated himself for not being Reagan’s friend.