by Rucker Moses
I hear another noise, like pipes squeaking in the distance. At first, I think it’s this cranky old brownstone acting up again, but as I get closer to my mom’s room, it’s not that. It’s her. She has a light on. She’s awake.
Her door is open a crack. I ease closer.
And I realize she’s crying.
I can just make her out, lying under the covers.
She’s all the way on her side of the king-size bed. The entire other side of the bed is untouched. Like even now, after all these years, she sleeps as if he’s still there. Like he could walk through this door this instant and climb into bed with her and she wouldn’t even have to move an inch.
She’s crying because she misses him. And being here makes it worse.
I realize I’m not breathing. Hearing her cry just stole the breath right out my chest.
I slip into my room and close the door as gently as possible and I get in my bed and I cry, too.
Because after all this, all I went through with the Mercury and the box and the hand and learning about the Realm . . .
He’s still gone.
After Ma spent years working to put food on the table and then got the strength to face Echo City and everything she’s lost and come back home for her dream to run a café . . .
He’s still gone.
After learning that V’s mom abandoned her and that as bad as I think I have it sometimes, others have it worse, and at least my pops was around to raise me and he was a good man and he loved me . . .
He’s still gone.
At that point, nothing else matters.
He’s still gone, and I have to bring him back.
And not just for me.
The rest of Saturday night to Sunday morning is spent trying to wrestle my squirming body and hyperactive mind into something resembling rest.
When the blinds glow with the rising sun, it’s a relief that I can stop pretending to sleep.
And start thinking of a way to get out of the house.
By the time Mom comes to get me for this chore or another, she sees me wearing high-tops, ball shorts, a tank top, and exactly one white glove.
“Morning, Ma, is it cool if I go hit the playground with Too T—Eddie today?”
She’s taken aback to see me so ready to go.
“W-well, sure, honey.” The ends of her lips curl up in a smile.
Then I remember her last night, crying quietly on her side of the bed while that massive empty space lay next to her.
“You two made plans?” she asks.
“Yeah.” The lie comes quickly. “He’s coming by, I should just call him, tell him I’m ready.”
“My boy, you sure are in a rush. Don’t you want breakfast?”
“Breakfast—of course. Sure.”
“You two are picking up right where you left off, huh?”
“Yeah, Ma. I mean, it’s good to be back, you know? This place—it’s weird and all, but it feels like home. You think?”
Her mouth drops open. She’s probably not sure how to respond.
“I think we’ll be okay,” I say with a shrug. “That’s all.”
“Good, King . . . I’m glad.” She looks like she doesn’t know what’s gotten into me, but she’ll take it.
* * *
Breakfast feels like it takes forever. Too Tall doesn’t show up until close to noon. Leaves Mom plenty of time to come up with chores for me to do. By the time Too Tall gets to our door, even he’s surprised by how ready I am to go.
“Okay, bye, Ma, bye, Uncle!” I say, and I’m halfway out the door before they can say anything back.
“Whoa, can I, like, say hi to your peeps, man?” says Too Tall.
“Later.”
“King!” my mom calls from the top of the stairs.
I freeze in mid-dash. “Yeah, Ma?”
She hesitates like she’s not sure what to say. “Be safe.”
Strange how her words and that somber look land like a jackknife to the gut, but I still manage to say, “Of course,” with an eye roll like I’m just so over it.
“And be back by five for dinner. No later.”
“Hi, Miss James!” Too Tall shouts with a wave like he’s signaling an airplane.
“Hi, Eddie!”
“Let’s go,” I hiss at him, and flee down the block.
“What’s the rush, King?” asks Tall, catching up. “Pickup games won’t run for real for another few hours.”
I want to tell him about everything. So much has happened even in the handful of hours since I’ve seen him. But all that comes out my mouth is “Stuff. A lotta big-time stuff, man, I need to update you. Let’s get off of Ricks before Ma thinks of some reason I need to come back.”
It’s just days before the Fourth of July and I feel like I could melt into the sidewalk. The concrete and brick and asphalt all bake in the sun and you can see the heat moving through the air like opening an oven door. Heat like you’re wearing another person on you at all times. I’m already sweating as we round the corner to Thurston Avenue.
The names of all the streets of Echo City are vivid in my mind after studying that map.
“Okay, tell me, tell me!” says Tall.
“On the way.”
“Where to? I know Echo City like the back of my hand.”
“To Mandrake Meadow.”
“Huh? Where’s that?”
“Thought you knew Echo City like the back of your hand,” I say with a grin.
Too Tall examines the back of his hand like he just noticed it for the first time. “To be honest with you? I, like, never look at the back of my hand.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, really—look at those little hairs on my knuckles. You got those?”
“Wouldn’t know.”
I take the map out of my pocket—those deep pockets they put in basketball shorts—and open the map in front of him.
“Okay, King-crazy, what am I supposed to be looking at?”
I tap a finger to Mandrake Meadow.
Too Tall scrunches up his face like he’s reading the last line in an eye exam. “Okay . . . Yeah, I know where that is. But it’s just, like, some old lot. Calling that a meadow—that’s a stretch. You should see—it’s like they demoed a building and just left the rubble laying there. Got all kinds of randos squatting, sketchy.”
“Huh,” I say, and reexamine the map.
“King, listen. I need you to back it up, I mean all the way up to the beginning.”
“Okay, okay. Ready for it? I know where my pops is. My uncle told me.”
“Yeah?” says Tall, keeping pace with me once again. “Wait, what?” he shouts when it dawns on him what I just said. “Your pops? That’s huge, King, what’d he say?”
“He said, Your father ain’t exactly gone. But he ain’t never coming back.”
“Okay. Is that, like, some kinda riddle?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain. You gotta promise this stays between us, okay?”
“Of course, my man. I already didn’t tell any of my cousins about the fact that . . .” Tall eyes the strangers passing us on the street with suspicion. Then he mouths, That-you-don’t-have-a-hand.
“Thanks, man. Let’s walk and talk.”
As I tell Tall all about the Realm, I check the map against the neighborhood, down Thurston Avenue, the main stretch of Echo City. Mandrake Meadow isn’t the only thing on the map that isn’t there now. All these spots on the map are different. What’s called the Red Room on a map label is actually a dive bar. The Double Rainbow cashes checks. The Flourish is a bodega with a handful of people trying their luck on lotto tickets. The Dead End—an enclosed triangle with haunted houses like the Ghost Gaze, Lemur Leftovers, and the Jamaican spot, Duppy Conqueror—those ghost spots are just ghost, boarded up a
nd abandoned. The Devant Dollar Store is a Family Dollar now. The Davenport Brothers Furniture store is a Raymour & Flanigan. The Sawed Lady is Bella’s Beauty, and Conjuror’s Cuts is a Supercuts. The Eye of Agamoto is called Sumi Sushi, Fu Manchu Chow is Han Dynasty, and Marabout Middle Eastern Grill is called Shawarma House.
Too Tall is sufficiently blown away by my explanation about the Realm, and my ability to both tell a story and check the map against the city at the same time.
“So your hand is part . . . in this Realmy, realm-agic-y place?”
“Yup.”
“And that’s where your pops went.”
“That’s what my uncle says.”
“So in theory, you could, like, shake his hand or something?”
“See, that’s what I’m thinking! Only I don’t think my uncle wants me to try or anything.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, he said, like, don’t do that. Or anything with the hand or the Realm at all. He said he’d smell it. He’s working on fixing it so I get my normal hand back.”
“Boring.”
“Agree. I mean, what’s the harm in a little magic, right? I used it without realizing on Mint back at the Mercury—”
“Outstanding—much respect—”
“Thank you—and nothing bad happened then. I mean, I get that opening a big rift between our world and the Realm would be horrendous, but I asked my uncle about using little bits of magic here and there, and he got all funny about it. Like he thinks I’ll try it.”
“Well . . .”
“Well, yeah, I might. But just to get my pops back. I mean, can you imagine that? If I could bring him back—for mom and my uncles and us.”
“Well, sure,” Tall says, and thinks this over. “But you have no idea how to actually do that.”
“Ah, here’s the last part of my night. The Mandrake Meadow part.”
“Good. I almost forgot.”
“I’m sitting there on the stoop—it’s like four in the morning. And I feel someone put a balled-up piece of paper in my hand—my Realm hand—but there’s no one there! I can’t see a thing, until I open my hand and this falls out.”
I reach in my other pocket and show Tall the handwritten note.
“You can save him,” Tall reads. “You can save him?”
“Right? I can save him!”
But Tall doesn’t share my excitement. “Listen, King, this one feels a little sketchy to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“First of all, this Mandrake Meadow is a sketch spot. But even this note? I don’t know, man. Like, if it was on the up-and-up, why not just come to you, straight-up? Why all the hocus-pocus? Why didn’t somebody sign the note?”
“Yeah, that’s what Veronica said. I’m thinking, only one way to find out.”
“King, I know you been out of Brooklyn for a few years now, but you got to be more suspicious about, well, most things. Especially strange things, like this. It could be a—”
“Don’t say it could be a trap.”
“It could be a trap. And we already know Mint and them are gunning for you. Mint seems like a tricky type, maybe he slipped you that note?”
“Tall, whoever gave me that note slipped it in my Realm hand. That means they got some kinda Realm power, or access at least. You really think Mint got it like that?”
“Look, this is all over my head. I’m just saying, it’s over yours, too. You got to be careful.”
Everyone’s caution is frustrating me. Does no one understand how important this is?
“But what if what the note says is true? What if I can save him? And what about the part in the middle? He is still within reach,” I recite. “He will not be for long. Once he is gone, he is gone forever. Tall, my uncle explained some things, but there’s so much I don’t understand about where my father is and what he’s doing. If there’s a chance, even a small chance, that note is true, then I need to find out.”
He nods like he hears what I’m saying and takes a deep breath.
“We’ll find out soon enough. We’re here.”
Mandrake Meadow is just as Too Tall described, though if a building were demoed here, I’ve never seen one so thoroughly pulverized before. The whole field is just dust. I can’t even make out the shape of a brick or anything. It’s just fine, dark gray grains that slope in mounds like a beach in the dead of night.
“I knew you couldn’t keep away,” says a familiar voice from behind us.
Veronica walks up in a baggy pair of ripped-up jeans and her hands in her pockets. She squints at me and shakes her head. “Let me ask you this. What would you do if I didn’t cancel my plans to clean out the old chess masters at Pocket Playground, just to come watch your back? Don’t answer that,” she says before I could anyway. “I know. That’s why I came.”
“Thanks, V. I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
“Can I maybe try one more time to talk you out of, well, whatever terrible idea you’re up to?”
I think about how to explain how important this is to me, without sounding childish.
Veronica sighs. “Save it. I get it. At least you brought along some muscle.” She looks Too Tall up and down. “Mr., um, Appropriately Tall, was it?”
“Uh, it’s Too Tall, actually,” he mumbles.
“Okay, King,” she says, and looks at the barren field. “We going to check this ‘meadow’ out or what?”
“Not much to check out,” says Tall, his head swiveling, on the lookout.
We all scan the dusty lot.
“You guys don’t remember anything else ever being here? Like a building?” I ask.
Too Tall and Veronica shrug.
“There had to be something. I mean, look, there’s a bit of a wall over there—right?”
A short section of wall—or something like it—stands over on the other side of the field of dust.
“I guess . . . ,” Tall says as he squints.
“Welp, only one way to know for sure,” I say, and set out across the field.
V shrugs, following me. “Okay. Let’s do it.” Too Tall hesitates.
“It’s okay, Tall,” I call. “We’ll check it out and be right back.”
“Man . . . You lucky I’m rocking my beater shoes,” he complains, but follows behind. “You don’t know Mint and them like I do. Those dudes took a bad turn. Got, like, nothing to live for. I don’t trust them. Just wish you wouldn’t take these chances.”
“You sound like my ma,” I say.
“She sounds like a smart lady,” says Veronica.
The wall stands like a ruin against the sky. The gray dust gets all in our shoe soles, laces, and even leaves a layer of film on my ankles. It smells like the stale debris around a construction site. As we get closer, I can make out a mural painted on what’s left of the wall.
It’s a painting of a meadow so vivid it could be a photograph. Green slopes, tall grass, reeds and dandelions restless in the wind. There are patches of flowers that look like angry black roses. V says those look like mandrakes maybe. The whole meadow feels like it’s moving, only you just missed it. Like you can feel the twitch of a blade of grass in the corner of your eye. There’s charcoal clouds that shift like a coming storm.
I stare and stare. Feels like I could stare forever. Like the green slopes keep unfolding deeper and deeper.
“Wow,” says Too Tall. “Whoever’s painting these is, like, good.”
“Like the one back at the Mercury,” I say.
“Yeah. The one I was staring at when I fell on you . . .”
“Of my father and Maestro. But look at that . . .”
There’s an object on one of the sloping green patches of grass. It’s a hat. I get all the way up to it and look carefully. A porkpie hat. With a card in the band.
&
nbsp; It’s . . . “That’s my dad’s hat!”
“Wow,” says Veronica.
“What’s that, now?” says Tall.
“Right there—look!” I say.
“How do you know that’s your dad’s?” asks Tall.
“Because look at the card there, tucked in the band. You see the insignia, with the bear’s head? That’s the Joker from Hooker’s Vanishing Deck! It’s one of my dad’s old tricks.”
“Well, how do you suppose your pop’s hat got in this here meadow?”
Something to be said for Too Tall—instead of trying to tell me that it’s not real, it’s just a painting, he wants to know how the hat got there.
“I mean, Dad was wearing that hat when he jumped through the Mirror.”
“Whoa,” says Tall.
Could that hat be in the Realm? Does that mean this meadow is showing us the Realm somehow?
What if . . .
As crazy as the idea seems, I pull the glove off my ghost hand.
“King—didn’t my dad say not to use that hand?” shoots Veronica. “At least, that’s what he told me.”
Too Tall realizes what I’m doing and covers his mouth.
I reach with my phantom fingers to the mural, right on the image of the hat . . .
And my hand hits a solid wall.
“Okay. Maybe I got carried away,” I admit.
Too Tall shrugs. “Worth a shot, I guess.”
“Right idea,” says a voice from nowhere. “Wrong equipment.”
Too Tall told me so.
Mint steps out from behind the wall.
Mint is pale and washed-out like he’s made of gray construction paper, though his green eyes are even brighter in the sun.
“I told you, King,” says Tall. “It’s a goose chase. We outta here.”