“Call if you need anything, okay?
“Okay.”
A light turned on in the entryway and, seconds later, the red front door opened. Julie stepped onto the porch dressed in form-fitting terrycloth yoga clothes. “Hi, Susan! Hi, Aiden,” she said, bouncing across the gravel driveway to meet them.
Aiden noticed his mom’s eyes studying the young girl’s form. “Wish I had all day free to do nothing but Pilates.”
“Mom...”
“Hi, Julie,” his mom said with precise courtesy as she neared. “Well, he’s yours for the weekend. Is Michael in?”
“He’s on a conference call upstairs. Shanghai, I think. Or maybe China."
"That's..." She bit her tongue as Aiden gave her an amused look. “Still working on Friday night I see.”
“And Saturday and Sunday. Was he always this busy?"
The question seemed to amuse his mom. She fought off a grin. "Well, we didn't separate because he was lazy, that's for sure. Who knows? Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did.”
“I doubt it," Julie laughed and turned her attention to Aiden. "How you doing, buddy? Ready to have a fun weekend?"
"I guess." He yawned, wondering when Brian and Freddie were going to arrive. This was to be the last weekend, the sunset on their summer. It would be fun if they didn't see Julie at all. That's what he was ready for.
"Well, it was nice to see you, Julie. Give Michael my regards," his mom said. "Kiss."
He kissed her on the cheeks, took his backpack, stepped out and closed the car door.
"Love you, kiddo," she said.
"Love you too, Mom."
Soon he was watching her sedan rumble across the gravel and back out through the automatic gate, her wrist rising to give him a final wave. For the second time since his parents separated six months ago, he was spending more than the afternoon away from his mother.
"I'll take your bag," Julie said, but he held on to it.
Last time he slept at his dad's house he had told himself it would feel more like home when he returned.
But it didn't feel like home, not at all.
It felt like another world. And he felt like a visitor to it.
5.
HIS ROOM WAS AT the top of the stairs.
He spent half an hour checking out the bedroom. It was just as he remembered it from two months back: twice the size of his room in Alder Glen and much bigger than the bedroom his parents had shared for a decade. It felt strange, uncomfortable to have a room bigger than his mother's to do with as he pleased. He felt like a traitor.
The last time he'd stayed there Julie had asked him what he'd liked, what his favorite movies were, and what sports he played. He'd given little thought to the answers. But now Iron Man, Maroon 5 and A-Rod posters lined his wall. She'd even found and framed an advertisement for Apple's Think Different campaign, probably because he'd said he liked Steve Jobs.
She'd obviously put a lot of effort into decorating the room. Yet the harder she tried the more pathetic it felt. It was the opposite of organic. From the posters in their frames to the bunk beds to the dark green curtains, every detail had been culled from the questions she'd asked months back.
Perhaps she had hoped his jaw would drop and they'd suddenly be friends. Neither happened when he stepped into his bedroom. Instead he just looked around, said: "Cool," and went to the bathroom. She was gone when he emerged.
He played games on his smartphone, launched a few angry birds at pigs, and read some comics on his bed. Brian sent him a text saying they still needed to pick up Freddie. That gave him at least a half-hour to kill time. He flung more birds, then grew bored and looked out the window. Spanish tiles and a view of the preserve beyond. Without his friends there was little to do but wait and let his mind wander. To soak in the silence of the big house and how foreign it felt.
It was the movement and not the sound that caught his attention. The shape lingered, studying him. Somehow, he had fallen asleep.
"Hey, buddy," his dad said, opening the door. "Hope I wasn't disturbing you."
"Nope," Aiden answered. "What's up?"
"I like the hair."
"What?" Aiden asked. "Oh, right."
"The blonde streaks. Looks good."
It'd been over two months since he'd put those streaks in his hair. He'd forgotten about them entirely. But to his dad, they were new.
"So, do you like the room?"
"It's cool."
"Just 'cool' huh?"
"It's nice. Did Julie work on it?"
"Of course. You know that."
Aiden took it in again, nodded just for show.
"She ordered the posters and had 'em framed. Took her awhile to find that Apple one."
"She didn't have to do that."
"Course she didn't, Aiden." His dad took a seat on the futon. "But she's a nice girl. She wants you to feel at home."
Girl, his dad had said. Not a nice woman, but a nice girl.
Julie was fifteen years younger at least, but she wasn't a girl. Still, Aiden didn't think of her as a woman either. His mom was a woman: headstrong and stubborn and fierce with her opinions. Maybe his dad had enough with women. Maybe he wanted a girl. But a girl could never be his mom. Julie never would, no matter how many posters she framed and curtains she hung.
"When are your friends coming?"
"Soon, I think. Brian's mom is driving them."
“Does she still count to five at every stop sign?”
“Yeah.”
"Probably be a while. Got any big plans for the night?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Freddie wants to camp in the treehouse."
"Perfect night for it. We've got some sleeping bags and extra pillows."
"Okay."
"What do you feel like for dinner?"
"What can we have?"
His dad laughed, shook his head. "Aiden, you're not a guest here, okay? You want to order a pizza, order a pizza. Or maybe Julie can cook something—"
"Pizza's good."
"Round Table?"
"Sure."
"Pepperoni? Or King Arthur’s Supreme?”
Aiden shrugged.
“Want to get both?”
“Okay.”
His dad's eyes studied him. A gaze that seemed to make his skin shrink. He felt awkward, uncomfortable. A kid, not the fifth grader who had just turned twelve.
“Listen, buddy,” his dad sighed. "I know this is tough on you, what your mother and I are going through. I know you think Julie had something to do with it. She didn't, but I know that's what you think. I know that’s why you've avoided coming over this summer."
"I was busy—"
"It's okay, really. I understand. My point is, don't blame Julie for something she didn't do. I love your mom, you know that. And I love you too. The truth is, well, some people grow up, and some people grow apart. Your mom and I, well, we'd gone different directions long before I met Julie. But you and me, buddy, we don't have to grow apart. This'll always be your home, as long as you want it be, okay?"
"Okay."
“What I’m trying to say is this: we can drive ourselves crazy trying wish things weren’t the way they were. But part of growing up is learning to let go of what we wish we had, and accepting what we’ve got. And we’ve still got each other, buddy. If that’s good enough for you.”
“Yeah,” Aiden whispered. “Of course.”
"Good," his dad said, rubbing his head. It'd been two months since they'd touched each other, Aiden realized. Two months since they'd hugged. "Now, let's go order a few pizzas. Sound good?"
"Sounds great."
The futon creaked as he stood up and signaled the end of the uncomfortable conversation.
"Besides, Julie's a good cook, but nothing beats a pie from the Table."
6.
THEY ARRIVED AROUND FOUR.
Brian's mom fumbled with the intercom, mashing the wrong buttons, hanging up every time Julie tried to open the gate. Finally, Aiden just walke
d out to the driveway, down the path, and opened the gate with the button inside.
"Holy shit," Freddie said once they were out of earshot of Brian's mom. "This place is awesome."
"I think I can see my house from here," Brian said, looking back at Alder Glen and the surrounding cities spread out below.
"I don't see the homeless shelter," Freddie quipped. "Oh wait, there it is."
"You're a ra-ra...you’re a real stand up comedian," Brian replied. "When you stand up, people la-la-laugh at you."
They made their way to the front door and it opened, just as Aiden feared it would.
"Hi, guys," Julie said, greeting them. "Come on in. Which one of you is Freddie?"
"I am. I'm me." He gulped. "I mean, that's me."
"It's great to meet you. Your mom called and asked me to remind you to take your allergy medicine."
"Okay." Freddie nodded, stiff as a board.
Julie turned to the big kid. "And that would make you Brian."
"Yes, ma-ma'am," he answered, cheeks reddening.
"My mom was ma'am. Please, call me Julie."
"Yes, Julie," he said, still red.
"Okay, well I'll let you kids get settled in. Aiden can show you to the bedroom."
They ambled up the stairs, Aiden leading the way.
"Bye, Julie," Freddie called out from the top, giving her a smile and a wave.
A moment later the boys were tossing their backpacks and bags on the futon in Aiden's room.
Freddie's hands rose to his chest, cupping a pair of invisible tits. "J-U-G-G-S," he said. "She's like my sister's age."
"Your sister's a sophomore in high school," Brian said. "That's su-sick."
"Okay, maybe she's a year older."
"She's a ba-ba...she's a fox," Brian said.
"Guys, really? That's my dad's..." He didn't want to say the word. "...that's his girlfriend you're talking about."
"She can be my girlfriend," Freddie laughed.
"Dude, you've even got a TV in here?" Brian studied the flat screen mounted on the wall. "3D, OLED, HDMI, optical... nice!"
"That the treehouse?" Freddie asked, glancing out the window at that towering redwood on the edge of the property.
"Yeah. Wanna check it out?"
"Sure!"
"Buddy," Freddie said, putting an arm around Aiden. "This place is awesome."
7.
THE HATCH SWUNG UPWARD with a groan.
"Sweet," Freddie said, peering into the treehouse from below. Aiden let them go first. It was only fair, after all. They hadn't seen it.
"What's it like?" Brian called out from below.
"Big. Lots of windows."
"Well go in so I can climb up."
"Try not to break the ladder, fatty."
"You kidding? It's workhorse rope," Brian said and tugged the rope ladder.
"That what they make your mattress out of?"
"It's what they use to climb mountains, dumbass."
Freddie disappeared inside the treehouse as Brian ascended the rungs. The rope ladder twisted, swung to the left and right, and Brian came close enough to the trunk to push against it with his leg. He stopped there for a moment, catching his breath and looking down.
"This is kind of high," he said, apprehension in his voice.
He was right: it was one hell of a fall. From grass to hatch it was about thirty feet, but it felt more like sixty. From where Brian was he could look down on the distant Spanish tiles that lined the roof of the first floor, and the checkered top of the patio umbrella. Staring straight down made it feel like looking down on the whole world. Back in Alder Glen the homeowners associations and its regulations would have seen that the treehouse was torn down by day’s end. But out here the rules were looser, the houses were bigger, and perhaps the consequences were as well. A fall from full height would snap a pair of legs at best.
And at worst? Well, Aiden didn't want to think of that. "Try not to look down," he shouted up to Brian.
"Sure it's safe?"
"Safe enough," Aiden answered.
"How safe is that?"
"Good enough for me."
"H'okay," Brian said, resuming his climb, every move calculated and precise. The last few rungs were a mad scramble, desperate and frightened, and he grabbed the grips on the edge of the hatch and disappeared inside.
Only Aiden remained, ascending slowly.
Then the wind picked up, only for a moment, and in that brief rustle of leaves Aiden turned his attention to the woods beyond the redwood. The brambles of oak and fir, the moss swaying in the breeze, the tangles of trees beyond.
The property was on the edge of an open space preserve, part of the greater glen that the foothills faded into. Roads and streams and trails wound their way through the folds of the preserves. Small unincorporated towns popped up here and there, gas stations and markets, a church or a real estate office. It was all uncharted territory to Aiden, the hills and streams and glens and woods and all the trails between. Hanging there on that ladder, looking out at the edge of his father's property, into the glow of the late afternoon, he realized that he'd been foolish not to visit sooner. That he'd done the one thing adventurers shouldn't do. He'd stopped venturing off the beaten path.
The wind picked up, carrying with it an odd call. It was a bird, he thought. Or perhaps an insect. A faint call, like a distant throat being cleared, followed by a clicking that that drifted through the otherwise silent breeze.
Hwooooooock-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.
Moss shifted among the oaks. A distant bird shot up into the sky with a shriek.
“Dude, c’mon up,” Freddie called from above.
Aiden listened again but the sound never returned. The woods were quiet, still. Only the rustle of leaves in the wind; of moss in the breeze like tattered clothes on old, gnarled lines.
“Coming right up,” Aiden said, and continued up the rope ladder.
8.
“THIS WOULD MAKE A heck of a fort,” Brian said, leaning out the southern window of the treehouse. “Like, for cowboys and Indians. You could shoot arrows from up here.”
“What are you, seven?” Freddie asked. “We haven’t played that in years.”
“So? It was fun when we did,” Brian answered.
The treehouse did have the feel of a battlement. It was an octagon, four large sides that made up the main walls and four smaller sides that acted as corners. The main windows were large, double glass panes that slid open. There were even screens to keep out the insects. From the east side the window gave an excellent view of the acre of mowed grass between the house and the single redwood that stood in the otherwise barren lawn. To the west: the foothills and the oaks, Bloom Creek and the nameless folds of land among the preserve that flooded in the spring rains. To the south: the town, parts of Alder Glen and the university. To the north: the freeway and part of the old water tower poked up over the hills.
A great redwood pierced the center of the treehouse, supporting the entire structure. Shelves had been built into the trunk, space for a radio and some candles. Patches of bark had been peeled away like mange. The previous occupants had carved their initials: MCB. + AAV, and Pike’s Posse. Aiden wondered who Pike was, and what his posse was like. Were there three of them? The Amigos, as Brian’s dad called his own group of friends. Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest?
Had Pike and his posse spent their summers up in the tree fort, thinking of fifth grade and the book reports they’d have to write? Or had they been older? The heart around the initials seemed to say so, like something a middle school kid would carve. Then again, Freddie had kissed two girls last year and hoped to ask Amy out at the end of August. Perhaps Pike and his posse had been Aiden’s age, which made him wonder: did he live at this house with one parent, or with two?
They passed the time playing their handheld video games, tossing insults at each other and switching games whenever a winner became too confident and the victories too many.
"Sometimes I won
der," Brian said during a lull on combat.
"Don't hurt yourself," Freddie quipped.
"Ha-freaking-ha, ass munch."
"Wonder what?" Aiden asked.
"Like, if our life isn't just a big va-va...a big video game. And someone else is controlling us. Maybe, like, that's why we get déjà-vu. Cause they're do-overs."
"Like checkpoints?" Aiden asked.
"Yeah. From saved games where we had to restart the level."
Silence. Then: "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Freddie laughed.
"Well, you're the dumbest thing I've ever seen," Brian replied. "So that makes us even."
"What are boss fights?" Aiden asked. “In this video game world.”
Brian considered it, smiled. "That's when Freddie's mom gets mad."
“Dude, dinner!” Freddie said, spotting Julie setting the pizza boxes on the patio table.
And like that Brian and Freddie raced for the ladder, the heavy boy sending the lanky one stumbling sideways, two kids scrambling to be first.
Julie’s voice carried across the yard as the two boys clambered for the ladder. “Supper, boys!”
But Aiden didn't care if he was first.
9.
“YOU'RE DISGUSTING," FREDDIE SAID. "You eat like a pig, anyone ever tell you that?"
Brian folded a slice of pepperoni over another slice of combination, squeezed, and bit down on the resulting pizza sandwich. Cheese, oil, some mushrooms and tomato sauce dripped between his fingers.
"Seriously, my dog has better manners."
“It’s easier this way,” Brian said between chews. “Plus you eat like a girl.” He held out a pinkie, holding his double slice like a dainty teacup. “Oh, my name is Fancy Freddie, I only eat my slices with a knife.”
Aiden laughed, almost coughed up orange soda. The fizz bubbled behind his nose, making him wince.
Julie had set up paper plates, cups, and some mosquito coils. She had even left a few candles out, but in the early evening light there was no need. They still had a few hours of sunlight, two at least.
“What is it about pepperoni and cheese?” Aiden’s dad asked, emerging from the kitchen, Bluetooth earpiece still tucked in. "Simple combination, but somehow it's like magic."
A Hollow Dream of Summer's End Page 2
