Rich Shapero (11 page)

Something was wrong.

His arm was gone. He glanced down. He could
see it on the blanket beside him, but he couldn't feel it, and when he told it
to move, nothing happened. Had Shivers frozen it in the night?
It's
probably asleep.
They did that sometimes—arms and legs. Then
another thought struck him.

It's in Too Far.
That frightened
Robbie badly.

He leaped out of bed and grabbed his
toothbrush with his good arm. The other was tingling. Was it trying to get
back? Did it even care?

That thought frightened Robbie the most.
His dream was still with him—as real as life. Above the black trees, the
cauldron was brewing. The Dream Man's voice boomed over the humming wings.
Robbie's thoughts were as frenzied as the dragonfly swarms, and he felt a great
welling as he gazed into the whirling eye. "That's what you want, isn't
it?" the Dream Man had said.

To go to Too Far, and never come back
— That's what he meant.

Robbie's arm had returned. He raised it in the
mirror, used a finger to pick his nose. Then he spit out the toothpaste, washed
his face, and examined the bruise on his hip.

When he stepped into the hall, Mom was
standing by the table. She smiled and poured out some cereal for him.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Yep," he replied. Mom's hair was
lopsided, and her face looked gray. "What about you?"

"Hardly at all," she said
quietly.

"Where's Dad?"

Mom's shadowed eyes shifted.

Was she going to speak? No, she was too
upset.

Dad hadn't come home.

They ate breakfast in silence.

It was hard to look at Mom. Robbie shifted
to the side and shut one eye, and one of the candles blocked her out.

"It's your vacation," he said
finally.

Mom nodded. "I'm off till next
week."

"What are you going to do?"

"Mend some of the clothing. Clean the
oven—"

"That's no fun."

Mom heard the disdain in his voice, and put
her toast down. "Do you know what it means—to 'take someone for
granted'?"

Robbie laughed, rising. "That's what
Dad and I do."

Mom saw the pity in his eyes and the plea
for forgiveness. "Oh honey—"

They stood together and hugged. Then Robbie
helped clear the dishes.

They had almost finished when there was a
knock at the back door. Robbie's heart leaped.

"I'll get it." He sprang through
the living room, grabbed the knob and opened the door wide. And there they
were—big and beautiful—Fristeen's eyes, eager to see him. But the rest of her
was shy. She peered around Robbie, risking a smile, afraid to step forward.
Should he invite her in? Then he thought about Mom—how miserable she was—and
changed his mind.

"I'm going out," Robbie called
over his shoulder.

Mom saw the visitor. For a long moment, she
stared at her without speaking. "Alright," she said. "Both of
you—take care."

Robbie motioned to Fristeen and closed the
door behind him. As they crossed the deck, Fristeen gave him a worried look.
She knew something was wrong.

"My mom's really sad," he
explained. "I am too." He took a breath. "Last night, Dad didn't
come home."

Fristeen nodded. She knew what that was
like. "When Dada left, I thought,
I'll never be happy again.
I couldn't stop crying."

She cleared the hair from his eyes. Robbie
wondered if she was going to tell him everything would be fine. But Fristeen
knew better.

"I just cried and cried," she
said. "And Grace cried too— even though she didn't love Dada anymore. '
Who
cares—'
That's what Grace said. But she really did care.
'Who
cares—"'
Fristeen shook her head.

"Who
cares,"
Robbie imitated her. It didn't help. "How old were you?"

"Five," she said.

They crossed the Clearing and started up
the Hill.

Fristeen reached for his hand.

A stray breeze circled them.

"Is your dada going to come
back?" Fristeen asked.

Robbie watched his shoes crunch the litter.
"I hope so." He shrugged.

"Mine isn't," Fristeen said.

When they arrived on top, she stopped and
faced him.

"Robbie—" Her eyes flared.

He could see she'd been holding something
inside.

"You won't believe—" Her arms
scissored excitedly.

"What?"

"Last night—I didn't sleep at all. I
figured it out—"

He gave her a puzzled look.

"I know who that giant is—the
lady."

Robbie was amazed. "You do?"

Fristeen nodded and licked her lips, eager
to explain. "I've seen her before—lots of times. I didn't recognize her at
first. She never showed me her wings. It was her cry—that last sound she
made—"

Robbie frowned, confused.

"That's how I knew. It was her!
Really. I'm sure." She grabbed his arm and shook it, laughing. "That
first day I saw you? It was Dawn who told me to wander that way—"

"Dawn?"

Fristeen smiled. "That's her
name." There was so much to share. "When I talk to you at night?
Dawn's there with us. She thinks you're great. She's been watching you for a
long time. When you were in your mom's tummy, she made sure you came out. She loves
you as much as I do—" Fristeen's eyes brimmed. She leaned toward him, then
stopped herself, blushed, and reached a finger up to touch his cheek.

"Dawn's your secret friend,"
Robbie said.

"Yes." Fristeen hopped on her
toes. "But don't you see? She's not secret anymore. I thought Dawn was
just for me, in private. But you saw her too! She's here—" Fristeen gazed
around them with astonishment. "In real life."

"You're certain it was her?"

"Yes— She told me."

"Told you?"

"She came to me, Robbie. Early this morning.
When it was just starting to be light."

"You were dreaming."

"It's sort of like dreaming," she
furrowed her brow. "Or like when you're awake, using your extra-seeing
powers. She comes at night or early in the morning, when I'm in bed—" She
bit her lip and looked up at him. "Oh Robbie—" Fristeen beamed.
"She's the most beautiful woman in the world. If you were married to Dawn,
you'd never want to leave her. She's like the sun—love pours out of her. It
just pours and pours."

"Wow," Robbie said. What Fristeen
had told him—at first, it didn't make sense. But now, it made more sense than
he could have imagined.

"What is it?" She saw the stunned
look in his face.

"I had a dream too," he said.

"Really?"

He nodded. "I saw the man."

Fristeen's jaw dropped. "With the head
that's too tall?"

"Yep. He came and got me last night
when I was sleeping. The Dream Man."

"The Dream Man?" Fristeen
whispered.

"He's the god of Too Far."

Fristeen was dumbstruck. Then the truth
blossomed in her eyes. "She's in love with him."

They stood there imagining it. A sigh
passed through the aspens high above.

"Are you sure?" Robbie frowned.

"Sure of what?"

"It seemed like he was hurting her.
Really bad."

Fristeen shook her head. "It was just
like I said. Dawn told me. She wanted him to. But she wouldn't say why.
Embarrassed, I bet." Fristeen giggled. "She's mad about the Dream Man
and his spooky brain."

***

It was a perfect day and the woods were
inviting, but when they hunched beneath the Bendies, they felt like bending all
the way. It had been a busy night and they were both exhausted, especially
Fristeen. So when they reached the Fallen Down Trees, they crawled inside and
took a nap. Robbie had another dream—a funny one, for a change.

He dreamt he was wandering in the forest with
Fristeen. They came upon a weathered log. It was like Used-to-Be, except that
it had broken off five feet above the ground, and was still clinging to its
stump. As they passed, the log shifted and Mom's face rose from its ragged
shoulder.

"Well, hello," Mom said with a
cheery smile. "Where have
you
been?"

"That's not your business,"
Fristeen replied.

Mom shrugged her shoulder. "Just
curious." She looked from Fristeen to Robbie. She seemed genuinely
interested.

Robbie gave Fristeen a wink. "Ask
away."

Mom saw the displeasure in Fristeen's face.
"I don't get around much," she explained with an unassuming
expression.

"That's a shame," Fristeen said
drily.

"Before the storm, I had a fine
view." Mom glanced up the bole of a nearby birch. "I can't see much
now, with my top in the dirt. I miss having leaves." Her sigh turned into
a laugh. "Oh, I'm the happy sort. There's always something going on, right
here." Her eyes flashed. "This break in my side? Rain leaked through
it. Conks grew on my bark. Then ants arrived. They built a fine nest, which
brought woodpeckers. See these holes?
That
was
exciting." Mom laughed. "Well, you see what I mean." She gazed
around her. "All these unbroken trees— they've got more to look at. And
with legs, you go anywhere you please." She eyed Fristeen with admiration.
"That's my dream."

Fristeen nodded at Robbie. How could they
be mean to her? "What can we tell you?" Fristeen said.

"What about yesterday?" Mom
wondered.

"You had to be there," Robbie
laughed.

Mom groaned.

"We climbed a slope," Robbie told
her. "And at the top there was a tree with two trunks. Then we found a way
down the other side—"

"And?"

"And we reached this forest with a lot
of black trees."

"Black?" Mom frowned. "Do
they come in black?"

"Yep. Gods live there."

"Big as clouds—" Fristeen chimed
in.

"They do whatever they think of,"
Robbie told Mom.

"Such as—" Mom's eyes were wide.

"They go naked," Robbie said,
"and they grunt—"

"—and scream—" Fristeen said.

"And some die—"

"But they want to—" Fristeen started
laughing.

"And some have tall heads." Now
Robbie was laughing. "Their brains never stop growing—"

"How could—" Mom caught her
breath. "Why would they—" Her gaze shifted from side to side, as if
something ominous was advancing on her. "I have so many questions— It's a
bit confusing." Her head was sliding back behind her shoulder. "I'm
going to have to think about this."

They continued along.

"Poor thing," Fristeen said.

"'They built a
fine nest
,'
" Robbie recalled Mom's words. "She's just sawdust inside."

A stillness descended on the forest.

"She's got a good attitude,"
Fristeen said.

When they awoke, it was late in the day.
Clouds were gathering, and He Knows had his doubts, so they returned to the
Bendies and explored on their bellies. There were a hundred exotic things to
see: green shield bugs and striped flies, little plants with pairs of pink
bells, and flowers that were tiny white stars. You could lick your fingernails
and the stars would stick. Then they found a plant that had ears like a rabbit,
so they whispered Too Far secrets in them, and plugged them with grass.

It was a great afternoon.

And it was a great night, too. When Robbie
got home, Dad was there.

***

It was like Dad had never been gone. No, it
was better than that. It was like before Mom and Dad started arguing.

Dad ran out onto the deck and picked him up
and spun him around by his arms.

"Dad's back—" Mom was gleeful.
"Dad's back."

Then Mom kissed Dad—Robbie saw her
gratitude and relief. Dad laughed and said, "I missed you both so
much." He kissed Robbie and Mom, and then Mom kissed Robbie, and they had
a group hug.

"Look at
us,"
Mom said,
taking in the three of them, the house, and the Hill with its trees. "We
really have something here." She gave Dad a wistful look.

Dad smiled a real smile. "We haven't
done too bad."

"And for dinner," Mom said,
rolling her eyes, "we've got everybody's favorite—macaroni and
cheese."

"Great," Robbie shouted, and they
went inside.