When Friendship Followed Me Home (7 page)

19

FIRE ALARMS AND FIRE ESCAPES

“She died?” Halley said.

“No, I did,” I said. “To her anyway. They took her to the hospital. They let me visit her once, and then the next day she was moved to this special unit, and you had to be family to get in, except nobody believed me when I said I was her family. She was in there for a week, and then of course a new kid came to take her spot in the house, and they moved her to a new home, they said. They couldn't tell me where, of course, her being a minor and all. They keep all that stuff private until you're sixteen. I wrote her letters. My caretaker promised she sent them, but I never heard back.”

Halley traced the backward numbers written into her palm. The ink was fading, and pretty soon none of it would add up to a hundred and eleven. She frowned and nodded. “I'm doing the time line in my head. You were almost ten,
you said, when Kayla—when this happened. You must have been adopted pretty much right after.”

“I couldn't talk from the minute I found out Kayla wasn't coming back to the house. I don't know why. I mean, I was always really quiet, but after that I just forgot how to do it. To make the sounds. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn't get the words from my brain to my mouth. They sent Mom in to help me.”

“How'd she do it?” Halley said. “How'd she get you speaking again?”

“She visited me three times a week. She'd ask me how I was doing today, and I'd try to talk, and nothing would happen, so I'd just nod my head. She didn't push me. She told me to tap it into her laptop, what I wanted to say. She asked me, ‘What do you like?' and I typed
books
. ‘Which ones?'
Science fiction mostly.
‘Have you ever read
Dune
?'
That's one of my favorites.
‘Mine too,' and we'd go back and forth like that. She'd bring in the books and read to me for a little bit. She had this awesome voice, like totally calm. There was a fire alarm drill, and everybody was all like, line up, hurry, eyes front, no talking,
march,
and meanwhile Mom whispers to me, ‘This is a good time for you and me to sneak out to Dunkin' Donuts.'

“So maybe about the third week, I tapped into her iPad that I couldn't figure out where the words were getting stuck. I had this feeling that if she could show me where in
my brain they were gunking up, like maybe show me on a picture or something, I could push them through. I just didn't know where to push. And then she does this thing. It was
true
magic, no offense to your dad. She puts her hand on my head and says, ‘I'm so glad you told me this, Ben. We're home free. The words aren't stuck here.' She taps my forehead. ‘They're stuck
here.
' Now she rests her hand on my heart. ‘Oh,' I said. That was it. She didn't go crazy or anything, like screaming about the fact she got me to talk. She just messed up my hair a little and said, ‘So why don't you tell me about Kayla?' And I did. Look, I know it wasn't totally my fault, okay?”

“Who, Kayla? It wasn't at all.
The Little Prince.
That was so awesome. It wasn't the Santa dude's fault either. I know you know that too.”

“I guess,” I said. “No, I know. He was flipping out.”

“I bet,” Halley said. “Poor guy.”

Flip nudged Halley's hand and then did his boxer trick. Halley smiled and kissed him but she wasn't ready to stop being sad yet, which is why I didn't want to tell her the story in the first place.

“Thanks,” I said. “There's only one other person I can talk to like this. Could talk to.”

“She's still with you,” Halley said.

“Sure.”

“She is. She'll always be with you. Kayla too.”

“Tell me the rest of your book.”

“Not now,” she said.

“When?”

“Soon.”

“I've really been wanting to ask you about it. What kind it is. I just don't know how.”

“You just did,” she said.

“No, your, you know.”

“Cancer? It isn't mine.”

I nodded, feeling like a jerk.

“I want to tell you about it,” she said. “I will, okay? I know it's not fair, you telling me about Kayla, about your mom, and me not telling you about
it,
but it has to be noisy.”

“Like how?”

“Like in traffic, so it gets eaten up by the horns or the squeaks the train brakes make. You can't talk about it here, by the water. It's too nice here. I just want to say I think you're awesome. Don't say anything. I always have to get the last word.” She put her head on my shoulder and turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes and pet Flip blind.

• • •

When I got home, nobody was at the dinner table. Tonight was delivery food from the Palace of Enchantment, except it was all laid out real neat on platters. Mom and I usually ate right from the cartons. Leo was eating in front of the TV, some ESPN show. Aunt Jeanie was in the other room,
at Mom's desk, eating in front of her iPad. “Sorry I'm late,” I said.

“C'mon, champ,” Leo said, “you don't have to worry about that with me.” I fed Flip and then myself, and then we loaded the car with boxes and bags. I turned back for a last look at the apartment building, my bedroom window, the fire escape where the pigeons used to bunch up in the early morning. The old man upstairs threw out crumbs at sunrise. I closed my eyes and pretended really hard that I heard the cooing, that I heard Mom's voice.
You and I will never disappear.
We are forever.
I opened my eyes and she wasn't there of course.

Aunt Jeanie fussed with my hair. She wasn't a musser. More of a fixer. “You forget something up there, Ben?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't cry,” she said, crying.

“Don't worry,” I said. “I won't.” And I didn't. We got into the car and left.

20

THE HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY

“You think you'll be all right in here, champ?”

It used to be Aunt Jeanie's workout room. We moved her treadmill and exercise balls down to the cellar. “I don't want to push you out of here,” I said. “I'd feel better in the basement.”

“Absolutely not,” Aunt Jeanie said. “Your asthma. There's no air down there. I mean, of course it's fine for when I run for a few minutes.”

“I don't know why you don't run outside, babe,” Leo said.

“This is a total pain for you,” I said. “Flip and me barging in on you like this.”

“Nah, c'mon, now,” Leo said.

“I just want to say thanks. Seriously. I'll pay for Flip's food, mine too.”

“Champ, relax.”

“I make around fifty bucks a week from my coupon deliveries.”

“Now, now,” Aunt Jeanie said. She looked like she wanted
to say more but didn't know what to say. She chewed her lip. She patted my back, leaning away. “Well, if you need us, we're right down the hall.”

Leo yawned and stretched on his way out. “So happy to be home,” he said.

The room was a lot smaller than my old one. The window looked over the cemetery. It sounds crummy, but it was okay, lots of pine trees. I couldn't see them so great in the night, but their shadows were sparkly in the moonlight. Mom got cremated, so now I wouldn't be able to visit her. They take the body after the funeral, and you don't see it again. Then later they send you her ashes, except how can you be sure they're hers? They were supposed to come back any day now.

Aunt Jeanie had made the bed so it was tucked really tight. I remembered the day we had the big talk, Mom, Jeanie and me. I can't remember why Leo wasn't there. The talk where Mom asked Jeanie if she would take care of me if she died. Jeanie clutched her heart—always clutching her heart—and her eyes got wet. “I'm so touched, really,” she said. “That you think I would be a good, you know, that I could take care of Ben. Leo and I, kids, we just never had the time. Well, you know.” “I know, sweetheart,” Mom said to her. “But you make the time, and they give you more time than they take. Good time, they give you. You have a huge heart, Jeanie. Bigger than you know.” “It's such an honor to be asked,” Jeanie said. “So I'm gonna put you down for a yes then,” Mom said. “Not that I'm planning
on going any time soon. Just in case. Right, Ben?” She mussed my hair, and then Jeanie fixed it, but they both winked at me, and the same way too, like only sisters can. It was nice, except, just like Mom said, none of us really imagined it would happen. Not before I grew up anyway. Before I went out on my own.

I stared at the empty wall of my new room and wondered where I ought to hang my Chewbacca poster. Flip looked from me to the wall, trying to figure out what I was staring at. I set the big picture of Laura on the desk. I had a small one of me and Mom with the beach in the background on a sunny day. I pushed the pictures together. Laura was like twenty times bigger than me and Mom. I looked away and started to get mad at myself for getting teary.
Never let the hill slow you down, Traveler,
Mom used to say, except she wouldn't have minded me being sad. Then again, she would have cheered me up. I just didn't want to get started on that whole thing. You know, feeling sorry for myself. Once you start up on that, it's harder and harder to stop, and then before you know it you're a zombie.

I went to the kitchen to get Flip a bowl of water. Leo was eating over the sink. “There's crumb cake but no milk,” he said with his mouth full.

“Thanks, I'm okay,” I said.

Flip sat behind me and stared through my legs at Leo.

“He's pretty goofy-looking,” Leo said. “He know any tricks?”

“Flip, box,” I said, and Flip got into a match with his invisible opponent.

“That's hilarious.” Leo got down on the floor and feinted jabs with Flip. And then he connected with a soft but quick slap across Flip's muzzle.

Flip ran behind me and kept sneezing. Leo crawled like a lizard toward Flip and Flip whimpered.

“I don't think he likes that too much,” I said.

“We were just playing.” He mussed Flip's head and stood up a little out of breath. “It's weird, you not calling me anything, you know? Dad would be weirder though, right? Unc? No? How's about just call me Leo then, okay? You want to watch TV or something?”

“School tomorrow.”

“Hey, I can take of care of him for you. Trip, I mean. While you're at school.”

“Thanks, but you don't have to.” What, like I'm going to leave Flip with him after he just slapped him? Was he out of his mind? “I walk him for a long time in the morning and then when I get home. Um, I don't mean to say anything, but his name's, like, Flip.”

“I never had a dog before,” Leo said. “C'mere, pup.” Flip didn't.

“He'll just sleep on the bed till I get back here,” I said. “You don't have to worry about him at all. Really, Leo. I appreciate it though.”

“I guess you have it all figured out then.” He shrugged. “Sleep good.” He went into his office, which was packed with boxes. He sold golf stuff on eBay, mostly those loser hats
with the flap that covers your neck, shirts with humorous sayings, except I didn't get why they were funny. Like the one he was wearing that night was:

His specialty was gently used clubs, he said.

Flip and I settled down on top of the covers. No way was I going to be able to make that bed as perfectly as Aunt Jeanie did. I texted Halley the address of the therapy dog certification place. Leo was watching TV on the other side of the wall, and he laughed really loud. Flip shivered and hid in my armpit.

I called Chucky. “Is your mom there?”

“This isn't some wink thing, is it?”

“Chucky, be realistic for like a third of a second.”

“You saying my mom's ugly?”

“Of course not. Your mom's really pretty.”

“Watch it, Coffin.”

While I was talking to him, my phone blipped with a text back from Halley:

• • •

I didn't sleep. I watched my phone alarm tick down toward 4:30. Somebody was opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen. After that stopped I got up and made Flip breakfast.

Aunt Jeanie had left one of those padded cooler bags in the fridge. The note said,

Ben,

Not sure if Tess used to make you lunch.

If you'd rather get lunch at school, I won't be offended.

Sincerely,

Aunt Jeanie

It was a turkey and tomato sandwich on like seventy-grain bread or whatever and loaded down with avocado and sprouts and these things that looked like mutant mouse turds but were actually seeds, I hope. The whole thing was wrapped in waxed paper as tight as the sheets on the bed. I was starving and ate it right then. It was good even though it was healthy. I grabbed the pet carrier backpack, and Flip and I hustled to the subway.

There were no seats on the train. Half the people wore fast-food uniforms and slept standing up. The train ran slow because people kept holding the doors. I missed my transfer. When it came, that train was packed. I practically had to shove people to get out when my stop came. I knew I was going to need it, so I took a hit off my inhaler, and then I ran with Flip lockstep next to me to pick up my coupons, and then we
really
ran to get them delivered in time. Flip's tail wouldn't stop wagging, like all of this rushing around was terrific fun.

By the time I finished the coupons I was totally sweaty, and by the time I got to Chucky's I was ready for a nap, and it wasn't even seven in the morning.