The Singing Bone (32 page)

“I'd rather not leave you here,” he said.

Alice put her head on Dan's chest. “Don't leave me here just yet, anyway.” He ran his fingers through her hair. Alice closed her eyes. She saw Mr. Wyck standing in the dark recess of the staircase, listening. Waiting. He could see through the wall. He could hear them. Maybe he was under the bed. She had to say the right things. Even if she left, she'd come back. And she was too tired to leave.

“Come with me, Alice.”

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see how it ends.”

“How what ends?”

“The play.”

“What play?”

She couldn't tell him. She was too tired to explain it. And if she didn't say anything more, he would think she was falling asleep, talking gibberish, and maybe she was, because the next thing she knew, she woke up and the sun was up and Dan was gone.

Stuart's mother said he couldn't use one of the nice sheets, so he took the money she gave him and rode his bike to Kmart to buy a plain white sheet. His mother said to be a good ghost, he should get a full-sized sheet, but once he was there, he saw the Superman costume and wanted that instead. He checked the money and he had enough. The box said “Super Hero Costume and Mask” but there was the black curl in the middle of the forehead on the mask and you knew it was Superman. He put the box under his arm and went up to the cash register. The checkout girl smiled at him. “Everyone's Superman tonight,” she said. She put a Tootsie Roll in the bag with Stu's costume. “Happy Halloween,” she said. “Go get the bad guys.”

Stu smiled at her. Outside, he looked up at the sky. He tried to imagine a world full of Supermans. He would be one of them. They would all fly through the sky together, banding together to get the superbad guys, like Mr. Wyck. When he got on his bike, he pedaled hard, whistling the
Superman
theme. Molly, Stover, Trina, and Alice had taken Stu to see
Superman
last year. He sat between Molly and Alice in the new movie theater off the highway. The new movie theater was bigger than the old one. The popcorn tasted better. The Coke came in a bigger cup. When he saw Lois Lane, he looked quickly up at Alice. Didn't they look a lot alike? He looked at the screen again and back at Alice. For a while it was hard to pay attention, but Molly put her hand on top of his head. That meant Quit It—whatever it was that he was doing that was annoying Molly. Stu got the hand on top of his head a lot.

Back home, he stepped into the blue plastic costume and looked in the mirror. The mask made it hard to see, but he could tell he didn't look like Superman. He looked like he was wearing a colored trash bag. He went downstairs and found the red rain boots Molly used to wear to rake leaves. He pulled a red blanket from his bed and tied it around his neck. He looked in the mirror again. Better. When he passed his father in the hallway, his father stood at attention, saluting him. “Truth, justice, and the American way,” he said.

“Hey, Dad,” Stu said. “What do you think?”

“I feel safer already. What time is Howie coming over?”

“When it gets dark.”

“You better eat something first. Mom's got pork chops.”

When he went downstairs, his mother said, “Don't wear your costume at the table.” He went back upstairs and changed out of it, which didn't take long. It meant untying the yellow neckline and stepping out of it. He took the boots off and went downstairs in his socks. “What happened to the ghost?” his mother asked.

Stu shrugged and began eating. “This was the same price.”

“Superman,” his mother said idly. She was having one of her staring things. Stu tried to ignore it. He ate fast so he wouldn't have to keep ignoring it.

The doorbell rang. The little kids always came out first, holding bags that were almost as big as they were and looking up while the parents or brother or sister called out, “Trick or treat!” Howie said they should stand behind trees and throw rocks at them. Rotten eggs.

His mom stopped staring and got up to answer the door. Stu looked at his dad, who was eating and reading the paper. When he noticed Stu looking at him, his father put down the paper. “How's tricks, kid?” He smiled his fake smile. It was the smile both his parents had worn since summer. No teeth, rigid. Stu shrugged. He finished eating and asked to be excused.

Upstairs, he crawled under the covers with his tape recorder and pressed play. In his warm, dark tent, he listened to Alice sing. He whispered the words along with her:
Dark Eyes, burning eyes, frightful and beautiful eyes. I love you so, I fear you so. For sure I've seen you at a sinister hour
. When the tape ended, he pressed rewind and sang with her again. He imagined swooping down from the sky over Mr. Wyck's house and carrying her away into the night. “I've got you,” he'd say. “I know you've got me,” Alice would answer, “but who's got you?” Just like in
Superman
. He thought about how he'd take her somewhere far away. Not here. Not back home. She'd just leave again. His mother knocked lightly on the door.
Clunk.
He turned the tape recorder off and climbed out. He'd have to bring Molly back, too.

“Howie's here,” he heard her say. “He's waiting for you.”

“Two seconds,” Stu said. He climbed into his plastic costume, pulled on the red rain boots, and tied the red blanket around his neck. He pushed the mask on top of his head and ran downstairs—going for a flying end. Howie cheered. Howie was in a near identical costume, but he was Batman.

“Saving the world,” Stu's mother said and hugged him. Too tight.

“Mom,” Stu said. “I need a bag for candy.”

Stu's father came out with the camera. “Smile. Say truth, justice, and the American way.”

“Truth, justice, and the American way.” Flash.

“One more.”

“Mr. Malloy,” Howie said, pretending authority. “We've got people to save.”

“Bye, Dad,” Stu said when his mother handed him a bag for candy. “Bye, Mom.”

“Be safe,” they said. They stood at the door and looked after them. “Bye,” his mother called again. “Be home soon.”

Superman and Batman set out on the darkened street. On Halloween, all the kids came to Stu and Howie's neighborhood to trick-or-treat. There were no streetlights—or sidewalks—just the dark winding roads that curved past the woods and the reservoir. Flashlights hopped in the distance. Some of the houses were rumored to be haunted. Stu imagined it was scary for kids who'd never been to their neighborhood before, but Stu knew all the houses and he and Howie walked slowly, looking for kids they knew in the passing faces. The older kids would come out later, Stu thought, and they could hang around for that if Howie was allowed.

“We should grab some little kids' bags,” Howie said. He put his Batman mask down. “Hey.” He grabbed Stu's arm. “Is that your sister?” Howie pointed with the beam of his flashlight to a girl wearing a long rose-colored gown.

Stu looked. The girl Howie pointed to was holding a little kid by the hand. The kid was dressed as a bluebird. Blue-and-white nylon wings sprouted between his shoulder blades. Molly wore a tinfoil crown and long white gloves. Stu could see the tips of her Nikes peeking out from underneath the dress. Her back was to Stu, but he recognized Molly's yellow curls. Stu stopped. “I can't believe she's here,” he said. “What's she doing here?”

“Everyone comes here on Halloween,” Howie said.

And then Alice appeared. She came down the walk of a house where they'd just gotten candy. She came slowly, like she was sick. Her dark hair hung loose around her white face. Snow White, Stu thought, but Alice was dressed as some kind of a witch or gypsy—Stu couldn't tell. She held a child dressed exactly like the child Molly held. Molly and Alice let the children run out ahead of them until they reached the edge of the beam of their flashlights and then they called them back. Matty, come back. Tilly, stay close.

“Are those their babies?” Howie asked.

Stu shook his head. “No way. It takes longer than a couple of months.”

They'd just learned it in health class. The round words:
Ova, ovum, uterus. Gestate. Knock Knock, Who's there? Vagina. Vagina who? Vagina you.
The first time Stu's friend Ted told that joke at lunch, Howie laughed so hard that milk came out of his nose. Stu wasn't sure he got it, but he laughed anyway.

Stu and Howie followed Molly and Alice. They kept their masks down. They got candy at the houses where Alice and Molly got candy. “Should you tell your parents?” Howie said.

Stu shook his head and held back. “I follow them all the time,” he said to Howie, and he told Howie about circling the reservoir to Mr. Wyck's. “It's no big deal.”

“We should go! Tonight!” Howie said. “We've gotta go!”

“No.” Stu planned to go later, alone, after his parents were asleep. He went at least three times a week now, and sometimes waited in the woods for them to leave so he could sneak into the house and look around. Every time he went inside, the house looked worse. There was glass on the floor, and china.

One day when he was hiding in the woods, the woman who called herself Allegra had come out. Stu stood up, which felt good because he'd been sitting on his knees behind a bush and he was cold. He gave her a half-hearted wave. “Hi,” he whispered.

She was carrying a suitcase. She set it down and rubbed her hand and gave him a small smile and stood looking at him for a moment. She nodded at him. Stuart moved towards her, but she put her hand up at him. “Don't,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

They looked at each other. He thought she wanted to tell him something. She even opened her mouth, but then closed it again and dropped her gaze. When she looked up at him again, she shook her head. “Don't let them see you. Please.” She picked up the suitcase with the other hand and walked past him, making slow progress through the trees. He watched her until he couldn't see her anymore.

Alice wakes up in the hospital. Her head aches. She has bandages on her wrists. This isn't really me,” Alice tells the nurse, who smiles down at her and brings the tray with a water pitcher closer.

“I know,” the nurse says. “A doctor will be in to see you soon.” Her scrubs have little smiling bears on them. The bears are holding pastel-­colored balloons.

“I'm cold.” Alice isn't cold, but she likes the nurse and wants her to stay. “What's your name?” she asks as the nurse tucks a blanket around her.

“Evelyn.”

“How long have I been here, Evelyn?” It's dark outside.

“Not long,” Evelyn says, still smiling.

Her answer makes Alice worry. She brings her hands up to her face to see if they are her hands, but her hands are bandaged and she can't see them. With her clumsy bandaged claws, Alice begins to tear the blanket off that Evelyn has tucked neatly around her.

Evelyn is talking to Alice in a low voice. Evelyn is telling her everything is fine. “You're in the hospital,” Evelyn says. “They gave you a sedative a few hours ago. This is what happens to some people when they wake you up. You're fine.” Alice begins to listen.

“Tell me who I am,” Alice pleads.

“Your name is Alice Wood. You were brought in this afternoon. A neighbor found you unconscious in your bedroom. The doctor will be in soon to see you.”

Alice sinks into the bed. “I saw a ghost,” she says.

Evelyn doesn't answer her. She makes the blanket neat again.

“I saw a ghost, I said.”

Evelyn smiles up at her. “Someone you wanted to see again, I hope?”

“Yes,” Alice says, surprising herself.

“Drink some water,” Evelyn tells her. She reaches down, turns a knob, and the bed begins to rise until Alice is reclining. “Here are the television controls. Rest. Pull this cord if you need us.”

“Will you come?”

“It might be another nurse. My shift ends soon.”

Alice won't pull the cord then. She likes Evelyn. She doesn't want a replacement. When Evelyn leaves, Alice sits in the bed, trying to quiet her mind. Her mind is telling her that she could have transferred bodies without meaning to, that Molly could be under the bed or behind the door.
Trust Evelyn
, Alice thinks, but maybe Evelyn is a ghost, too. Alice knows this is crazy, but she can't stop herself. She saw Molly today.

Anything is possible.

She remembers the first time she was in the hospital—after she was arrested. She kept telling everyone to stop changing the cast. She couldn't keep up. This time, Alice knows she's not in a play.
Out, out, brief candle,
she thinks. She had to memorize it in a high school—a passage from
Macbeth
. She still remembers standing in front of the class. She could sense their attention. No one's mind drifted.
Stand up straight, roll your shoulders back, look where you're going
, she heard Mr. Valetti say.

Alice isn't as confused as she was the first time. She recalls a similar room, the medicinal smell. “It's wrong to introduce so many new faces in the last act,” she told her doctor. “No one will believe the play when you put it on. It's supposed to be a tragic story.” When the doctor introduced her to the court psychiatrist, Alice rolled her eyes. “You've got to be kidding me. More new characters? You're turning this into a political comedy.” The court psychiatrist sat down in a chair the doctor had brought to the bed. He wore a tan overcoat. “You can't smoke your pipe in here,” Alice told him. When he took off his coat and Alice saw that his jacket had elbow patches, she cried, “This is a fucking farce! Could someone get him a less predictable costume?” When two police officers came to interview her, she chided them. “You're not supposed to kill off a main character in the last act. Next you'll tell me it was all a dream.”