wasn’t bolted to the ceiling it was hanging on a regular metal swing-set frame that still had a slide attached to one side. Little Lenny was sure his little brother would slide down that slide while he was at the doctor and then he hoped that Mr. Cleveland would hide the rifle so Lloyd wouldn’t mess with it or do something stupid like shoot his foot off.
So, careful not to knock the rifle over, little Lenny sat on the swing and looked out over the garden. The garden was mostly flowers and the flowers were mostly yellow. In fact, it was like a yellow sea that stretched across the entire backyard and if little Lenny Helzerman had not already been out of breath, he was sure that the beauty of the yellow garden would have taken his breath away. Sunflower seeds littered the ground beneath the bird feeders that were scattered throughout the garden. In the center of the garden was a huge bird bath that sat atop a cement column and other smaller bird baths lay almost hidden amongst the flowers like secrets only the birds knew. Little Lenny counted nine bird houses that he could see from the swing but he was sure there were more because what bird wouldn’t want to live here? The garden was like bird heaven. Food. Water. Shelter. Flowers. Trees. It made Lenny feel good and his eyelids began to droop and his head began to nod and the peaceful songs the birds whistled wove a melody in his heart as the warm sun caressed his arms like a blanket.
“Pretty, ain’t it?”
The voice startled Lenny and he jumped which made the rifle slide but Mr. Cleveland caught hold of it and patted little Lenny on the shoulder.
“This is my favorite place to sit.”
Little Lenny looked up at Mr. Cleveland. The sun shone behind him so his head looked like a big shadow wearing a straw hat. He had on denim overhauls and a long sleeved, plaid shirt and his hands looked old and worn with spots and veins and little Lenny hated shaking those kinds of hands because it felt like he was shaking hands with death and for as long as he could remember now, little Lenny Helzerman didn’t want anything to do with death.
Mr. Cleveland picked up the rifle and came over to sit beside Lenny. Little Lenny felt the slats in the swing spread apart when Mr. Cleveland sat down. He lay the rifle on his knees with the butt facing little Lenny.
“Peaceful and beautiful is what I always say.” Mr. Cleveland continued talking but little Lenny couldn’t get over the fact that he was so close to a real gun.
“What kind of gun is that, Mr. Cleveland?”
“Oh, it’s just a little twenty-two I use to shoot birds.”
Mr. Cleveland’s answer forced little Lenny Helzerman’s attention away from the rifle to the bird paradise that was the Cleveland’s back yard. Yellow swayed in the breeze and little birds swooped and darted and perched on waiting braches.
“I thought you like birds.”
“Oh, I do. I love to sit here and watch ‘em. I only shoot the ugly ones.”
SILVER
Little Lenny Helzerman didn’t know if he could remember the last thing he could remember. He remembered one of the doctors placing some sort of clear mask over his face. He remembered that doctor saying, “Just breathe, Lenny. Just breathe.”
And little Lenny remembered breathing and he remembered a cold feeling started at his toes and rode up his body like a ripple of water. Little Lenny remembered the doctor looking down at him and him looking up at the doctor and the doctor’s funny blue hat and that blue mask which covered the doctor’s nose and mouth. And little Lenny remembered thinking that the cold ripple had almost reached his head, but he was not sure if that was the last thing he remembered because if one can remember a last memory then it is not the last memory.
Then little Lenny Helzerman wondered if something had to be real to be the last thing one can remember. Little Lenny could remember a couple of dreams from a long time ago; like the one in which he was running through the woods and even though he never saw him, he was being chased by Bigfoot; or like the one where those people with tiny bodies and giant, guitar-pick shaped heads were running up and down over sand dunes and then that giant hand (even bigger than their heads) reached down out of the sky and pushed on the top of their giant, guitar-pick shaped heads until their tiny bodies were stuck between sand dunes. The giant hand kept on pressing person after person into the sand until all those people with the tiny bodies and giant, guitar-pick shaped heads were stuck in the sand—all those faces screaming out from between sand dunes that stretched across the horizon like an endless Indian headband. Little Lenny wanted to help free all those people but for some reason he couldn’t move. Still, little Lenny never considered those real memories because they were just dreams and even though he could remember them, they weren’t real memories. Little Lenny figured that a real memory had to be something he did or something that was done to him. It was just the way things made sense to him and what was happening made no sense.
Little Lenny Helzerman had become a kite or at least that’s what he thought had happened. A silver string ran from the center of his chest down to the little boy lying on his back in the room below. People wearing backwards blue shirts and funny blue hats and blue masks that covered their mouths and noses swirled around the room. Their white gloved hands poked and prodded the little boy who somehow held the silver string that kept little Lenny from floating away. They wheeled machines with green and red flashing lights into the room and hooked those machines to the little boy lying on the table who somehow held the silver string that kept little Lenny from floating away.
And as the blue people swirled and as the green and red lights flashed and as little Lenny tried to make up his mind about real and fake memories, a beautiful lady stood at the head of the table that held the little boy who somehow held the silver string that kept little Lenny from floating away.
Little Lenny Helzerman, who was now a kite or so he thought, wondered why no one seemed to notice such a beautiful woman standing in the middle of the room. Her white dress billowed against the blue that swirled in every direction. Her hair fell long and brown around her neck like curtains left open on a sunny day, and when she lifted her head to look little Lenny Helzerman square in the face, little Lenny knew that she had to be the saddest woman in the world.
Little Lenny wondered if something was wrong with the little boy who held the silver string that kept him from floating away. Little Lenny wondered if the sad and beautiful lady knew something was wrong with the little boy and that was why she was so sad. The sad and beautiful woman leaned down and kissed the little boy on the head and when she did, she disappeared. And the blue swirling around the little boy became a whirlpool of poking and prodding and flashes of red and flashes of green got caught in the whirlpool and everything became a frantic blur—little Lenny Helzerman could feel himself float higher. The little boy lying on the table below somehow still held onto the silver string but the string was getting thinner like a rubber band when it is stretched. And the silver string continued to stretch and little Lenny continued to float and then the silver string snapped.
And little Lenny Helzerman realized that nothing doesn’t have a color. In fact, nothing doesn’t have anything and if nothing doesn’t have anything, then of course little Lenny Helzerman couldn’t remember the last thing he could remember because everybody knows that you can’t remember nothing.
****
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