by Mike Hopper
You draw me in closely
Like crowds all around me
Your silence says little
Your voice filled with knowledge
I listen for clues
To riddles unknown
With the color ritual complete Sam looked outside and noticed her brother on the sleeping porch.
TWO
Steuart lay on a summer bed and held Sparky against his chest. He watched the crescent moon hanging midway over the bay and listened to the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore. Sam sat on the opposite bed. “Why are you awake?” she asked.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Neither can I.”
“It’s happening too fast.”
“I know.”
“Everything was fine. Life was perfect, and then all of a sudden we’re moving. She decides to change everything and that is that. She didn’t even ask how we feel about it. Did she ask for your opinion?”
“No.”
“How did this happen?”
“She made a choice,” Sam shrugged.
“She didn’t care. She didn’t ask either of us. I mean it. This is all wrong.” Steuart had tears in his voice. “Why didn’t she tell us sooner?”
“I don’t know.” Sam was crying too, but as the older sibling, she tried to hold her feelings inside. “Are you scared?”
“No.” Steuart squeezed his pillow and spoke softly, “I want to stay here. This is our home.”
Sam nodded.
“Don’t you want to stay here?”
“We can’t.”
Steuart stood, turned around and then sat down. “Mother’s new house doesn’t even have a name. How stupid is that?”
“Not stupid, I don’t think they do that in other places, at least they don’t do it everywhere.”
“I think it’s stupid. All I have to do is tell my friends I live at Point Taken. People know how to find me.”
“The new house has a number out front. Our friends will find us.”
“What friends?”
“We’ll make friends.”
Steuart huffed, “She’s taking us away from everything that matters. What will Frank and Caffey do?”
“Dogs adjust.”
“Who’ll walk with them?”
“They’ll be fine with Grandmother. She’ll walk with her friends, or she’ll go out by herself.”
“Friends are not the same as grandkids. She’ll be lonely without us.”
“That’s true, but she has friends.” Sam changed the subject, “You know what?”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a dog once we’re settled.”
“I’d be shocked. What made you say something like that? Mother won’t even let us have a gold fish.”
Sam made a face and pulled on her toes. “Wishful thinking.”
“I’m serious. She won’t even let us have a fish. She told me I’d kill it unless she took responsibility for the thing.”
“That’s because she killed hers when she was little.”
“What?”
“I got the same response. Mother had a couple of goldfish she really loved. She named them Marti and Ben. Grandmother told me that Mother took good care of them. She fed them everyday. She talked to them. And, she made sure they always had clean water. One day she put them in the sink when it was time to change the water. But she forgot to plug the drain, so Marti and Ben went swimming. She never wanted a pet after that.”
“And you think she’ll let us have a dog?”
“Wishful thinking. Forget what I said.”
Steuart held Sparky tightly around the middle and buried his head in another pillow. “Have I told you my new pirate story?”
Sam looked up and shook her head. She giggled, and added her thoughts, as Steuart talked. “I think Mother would take over immediately. She’d become the head pirate, and be in charge by the end of the first day. I’d feel sorry for the poor pirates. Just imagine how it would go for them once Mother pulled out Right, Good, and Appropriate. They wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d run away crying like little babies.”
“Pig-eye traders!”
“What’s that?”
“Greedy pirates. They’d beg us to take Mother back. They’d offer us five million tons of gold.”
“That’s a lot, but we couldn’t take it.”
“Blood money,” Steuart nodded. “I’d pull out our super official, signed and binding, contract. I’d stand here on the porch, look down at the crowd on the beach and read it for everyone to hear.”
“What would it say?”
Steuart took a deep breath. “It would say: Hear ye, hear ye, Know ye this day that all signed agreements between the Galapagos Pirates, aka Pig-eye Traders, and the DuBoise children of Atchison Point are final and binding forever. That means our agreement is irrevocable. This document is undeniably signed, dated, and properly notarized by all interested parties. It may never, ever, ever, be undone.”
“Yes!” Sam shouted.
“The pirates would be stuck with Mother forever.”
Sam and Steuart giggled as they continued to embellish the story. Then they became quiet again.
Steuart sat in the darkness and looked at his sister, “I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve always felt like this house is full of magic.” He looked around the porch. “This is my favorite room.”
“Mine too.”
“With the oaks out there it feels like we’re sitting in a big tree house. We’re part of this place.”
“I love it too.” Sam looked at her brother and folded her arms. “I think I’m beginning to understand what Grandmother means when she says, Steuart, you’re an old soul.”
“Whatever,” Steuart shrugged his shoulders. “There won’t be a sleeping porch. There won’t be a bay in our backyard. And we won’t be able to go crabbing every morning. They probably don’t even have oysters in the Midwest.”
“I hate oysters. You do too.”
“I’m talking about the crack of oysters under car wheels when people come to visit. I like the way it sounds.”
“I don’t like walking on those things barefooted.”
“That’s why we have flip-flops. Of course we won’t need those anymore. The new drive is made of cement. Did you know that?” Steuart put his hands to his face. “I’ve heard they don’t have grits, and they don’t drink sweet tea up there. They’ve probably never eaten seafood. Can you imagine that? They might not know what it is.”
“I’m sure they have seafood in Maybell. It might not be as good as what we know, but I’m sure they have it.”
“Of course it won’t be as good. I don’t even like the name of that place. I found Maybell on the map. Have you looked?”
“No.”
“It’s land-locked. It’s a long way from any ocean or gulf.”
“But not far from the Great Lakes.”
“Who cares about a silly lake?”
“It won’t be like the water in Atchison Bay, but…” Sam shrugged, “We might be pleasantly surprised.”
“Idle gab.”
“Good one. What’s wrong with a lake?”
“Lakes are fresh water. They don’t count.”
“Who says? What’s the problem with fresh water?”
“I say.” Steuart glared at his sister. “I don’t like it. There’s no salt.”
“Have you ever been to a lake?”
Steuart didn’t respond.
“We need to give the place a chance.”
“Says who?”
“We have to go. We might as well make the best of things.”
“It’s going to be so cold. We’ll have to learn to walk around in snow and ice. I’m not sure how I feel about snowshoes.”
“We’re not moving to the North Pole. I doubt that we’ll need snowshoes. Think about the fun we’ll have making snowmen and ice forts.”
“We’ll probably get snowed-in and starve to death.”
&n
bsp; “Let’s see how it goes before we decide to hate the place.”
“I’m not ready to do that.”
“I think you’re right about the shells.”
“Why are you talking about shells? They won’t have shells. They’ll have ice.”
“I’m talking about the oyster shells. They’re definitely better than a doorbell.”
Steuart bent down and looked under the bed. He reached for a box of action figures and began playing. “How can grown-ups do these things to kids without thinking about how we feel? It’s not right.”
“Mother doesn’t have to think about us.”
“Why not?”
“Because we go with her. That’s all.”
Steuart threw an action figure onto the bed. “She doesn’t want me to take these guys.”
“Did she say that? What did she say?”
“Steuart, you are now ten years old. It is time for you to put your toys and childish ideas away in a box. You need to begin concentrating on the concerns of a growing young man. You will quickly learn that well-adjusted men never play with toys or dolls. Then she read a passage from her book as a way of proving her point.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“It’s irritating.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything. Mother’s the one making our lives miserable. She’s clueless about these things. Can you believe she calls these dolls? This is not a doll. This is an action figure.” Steuart stood and held the figure high above his head. “Meet my friend and esteemed colleague, Captain Crandall of the Creighton Clones.”
“Hello,” Sam said.
“He is, undeniably, one of the greatest super heroes of the modern day universe. Captain Crandall is the biggest and the best. He is the strongest and he is the most highly intelligent of all super heroes. This man can do anything. Imagine calling him a doll.” Steuart sat down.
“I understand. She won’t let you have action figures. She won’t let me have paints.”
“True.”
Sam hugged her knees. “My special day is soon. I’m asking for a paint set.”
“Are you serious? You’ve forgotten about the art incident?”
“Mother can’t hold a grudge forever.”
“Yes she can. Of course she can.”
“She might buy it. I keep telling her how badly I want to paint.”
“What planet did you come from? Are we talking about the same person? Ask the neighbors. Ask her former friends. Ask anyone who knows Mother.” Steuart stood, flew his action figure through the air and circled the room twice before pouncing, stomach first, onto the bed. “Our mother holds grudges every second of every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every week, of every month, of every…”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Sam put up her hands. “I get it. I understand.”
“Mother holds grudges for grudges that she’s not even thought of holding grudges for yet. She coined the phrase burn bridges before blood.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. You’ve heard her.”
“I’d rather not think about that. I don’t think it’s an original phrase.”
“Maybe I’m giving her too much credit.” Steuart shook his head, “But that doesn’t change things. You should give up the idea of asking for art supplies. You’ll be disappointed again. She’ll never change her mind.”
“That was years ago.” Sam leaned back, stretched against the headboard and yawned. “I was little. Besides, I’m her daughter. Eventually, she’ll have to let it go.”
“We’re not talking about Olivia DuBoise are we? Help me here.”
Sam glared at her brother.
“Mother holds grudges. She never lets go. She likes to say that she can forgive but she’ll never forget.”
“Why are you being insistent about this? Why are you trying to burst my bubble? All I want to do is explore my artistic talents.”
“I’m not trying to burst your bubble, or keep you from being artistic. I don’t want you being unrealistic and ending up disappointed.”
“I’m just hoping.”
“Stop for a minute and think about the art incident. Who always brings it up? I don’t bring it up. Grandmother never brings it up. You certainly don’t bring it up. Only Mother talks about the mess you made. And that happens anytime you ask for art supplies. You don’t even have to ask. All you have to do is mention that you like a picture.”
Sam yawned again, and sighed loudly, “I don’t know. I don’t even remember ruining everything in the house. I don’t remember ruining anything.”
“That’s my point.”
“Either way, I’m asking for paints and I’ll keep asking until she agrees. I’m almost a teenager.”
“So?”
“So, there’s nothing wrong with asking.”
“Uh, twinkling fish.”
“What’s that one?”
“Wishful thinking.” Steuart held Captain Crandall high in the air. His voice went into razor sharp, deep, gravely, action figure mode. “Ma’am, do you actually believe persistence and wishful thinking can penetrate the iron will of Lady Olivia DuBoise? Maybe we’ll all travel through time to another world and back again too.”
Sam half laughed.
Captain Crandall continued. Maybe Olivia DuBoise is going to be hit over the head. Maybe she will be hit over the head with a bottle which will not only cause her to forget every single thing that makes her swear and complain, but also cause her to make a public proclamation that Samantha Leigh and Steuart James are, without question, the most wonderful children a mother could ever have.”
“Ha.”
“Maybe I’m not Captain Crandall, action figure extraordinaire, savior of the universe. Perhaps I am a great deal more. Maybe I am alive. Maybe…” Steuart stood, raced towards his sister, and put the action figure directly in front of her face. “Young lady, maybe I am—your father.” Steuart backed away and began running as he pretended to fly around the porch before coming back and settling again onto the bed.
“I see,” Sam said softly.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I think we both know Mother buys things she finds on sale.”
“Probably.”
“Don’t forget her motto: If it’s not a bargain, we don’t need it.”
Sam rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, another one from the handbook.”
“Have you ever read that thing?”
“I’ve looked at it a couple of times.”
“You touched it? Aunty Ed rodeo?”
Sam shook her head, “What?”
“You’re not dead?”
“She didn’t see me. I looked when she was out of the room, and I put it down fast. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. She tells us what she wants us to know. Between you and me, I’d like to burn the stupid thing and give it a burial at sea.”
Steuart spoke through Captain Crandall, “Abase ritual? Ma’am, don’t argue with the handbook. Terrible things will happen.”
“Forget that, maybe just help her misplace it during the move.”
“I hasten a tad.” Steuart whispered a secret to Captain Crandall and then looked at his sister.
Sam put her hands up. She shook her head, “Don’t go there. We can’t do anything. Forget it. I wasn’t serious.”
“Forget what? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was thinking about your special day. Maybe Mother will find the paints marked down.”
“We both know she buys what she wants us to have, not what we ask for. The paints could be free and she’d still decide against them.”
“True.”
“Ideas only work if they’re hers. I guess I could save my money and buy them for myself, but unless she agrees…” Sam let out another deep sigh and became silent. For a while, the children sat quietly. Sam got up, walked to the edge of the porch and began looking out at the bay.
Steuart broke the silence. “How often do you
think we’ll be able to come home?”
“I don’t know. If I told you anything other than that, I’d be lying.”
Steuart began wrestling with his pillow and pretended it was wrestling back. “Mother never listens to your ideas or mine. She made the decision to move without asking our feelings. I’ll never understand...” He stopped tugging at the pillow when he realized Sam was watching.
“What are you doing?”
Steuart held it up for an introduction. “This is my new pal, Leighton Jefferson Allnight O’Dowd. He’s my dinosaur. You can call him Sparky.”
“Why would I want to call your pillow by a name?
“Because it’s important.”
“It’s a pillow.”
“No,” Steuart snapped, “You only think you’re looking at a pillow. He...” Steuart stopped and looked around the room, making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in close and lowered his voice to a soft, slow and distinctive whisper, “He is only dressed as a pillow.”
“What?”
“It’s a d-i-s-g-u-i-s-e.”
Sam frowned, “Why is your pillow...?”
Steuart nodded, “Sparky, the dinosaur.”
“Why is your pillow...?”
Steuart interrupted again, “Sparky, say it with me Sis. Sparky, the dinosaur.”
Sam stared at Steuart and nodded. They said it together, “Sparky, the dinosaur.”
“That’s right.”
Sam began again, “Why is your Sparky the dinosaur disguised as a pillow?”
“Hamster flout.”
“I’m too tired for your words tonight. What are you saying?”
“Mother’s fault.” Steuart hugged Sparky, “It’s because Mother says I’m too old to play with dolls. I’ve already told you about that discussion. You know and I know that dinosaurs are not dolls anymore than action figures are dolls.”
Sam nodded.
“Mother lacks perspective. Quite simply, the woman is unable to distinguish between dolls, actions figures, or adopted dinosaurs. She doesn’t even know the difference between sports equipment and simple beach toys. Frankly,” Steuart paused and looked towards the water, “I find it pathetic.”
