Boy on Hold

by J D Spero

  Derek held up his hands. “Sorry, ma’am. It was Tyler’s idea.”

  Miss Sally turned on him. “Tyler, put that lamp down and get out of my house this instant. Before I call the police!”

  Aha! So there was money in the lamp. Why else would she insist he put it down?

  He had to get inside it. Maybe smash it against the wall?

  Miss Sally came at him, her veiny arms extended. Did she mean to hit him?

  Bold move.

  Ty lifted the lamp over his head. Instead of grabbing the lamp, Miss Sally smacked his face. Her bony fingers knocked into his nose. Hard. Inside, a million explosions. A million tiny veins popping.

  “Shit!” Blood dripped. He wiped with his free hand, and it came back red, red, red.

  Countless tiny things popped inside his head. Like little shocks. It filled his ears and messed with his vision. A cruel headache surged. He squinted against it.

  Miss Sally studied her own hand, stained with Ty’s blood. She yelped in shock. “Oh, my. I didn’t mean to… What happened?”

  Derek was at her front door now. “Ty, come on. We’re out.”

  The light from the TV was like a strobe light at a dance club.

  Then things started to change.

  Everything closed in. She morphed before his eyes.

  Shape-shifter. The metamorphosis.

  She became an insect. A slimy, iridescent creature—glowing against the light of the television. Her head expanded like a balloon. Her skin paled and became translucent. Her hair vaporized, like steam from a teakettle. Her eyes changed shape and glowed from within. Her voice had changed, too. She spoke a different language. Computerized gibberish—oo-lah, blong-oi, see-mrah. Her hands grew claws as she scratched at him.

  They were here. From the UFO. They’d channeled her. They’d been waiting for him here. All this time. He wouldn’t let them get him.

  He heard the voice clear as day, but couldn’t detect its source: As good as dead.

  A strange, fluttery rage built up in Ty. He felt his body inflate, filling all the space around him. The room flushed neon like he was inside one of Hen’s glow sticks.

  As good as dead.

  Frantic, he searched for the voice in the erratic lights of the TV. They jabbed his chest, like in that car commercial.

  You. You. You.

  Miss Sally yelled, demanding something, her voice super harsh.

  You. You. You.

  He thrashed, swinging the lamp. It struck something, broke apart. Then everything went dark. When he blinked into focus, Miss Sally lay in front of the TV. A gory wound on her head seeping blood. It pooled on the carpet all around her.

  Ty’s ears clogged. Derek’s voice reached him through the fog.

  “Ty! What the hell did you just do? What’d you do? Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. We’re so screwed. Totally screwed!” Derek jumped all spazzy around the living room, like a monkey at the zoo. Knocking into all the insect-ghostlike-creatures that lined the walls.

  They surrounded him now. They’d come in from their UFO and were here watching, making sure it happened the way they’d planned.

  “Let’s get the hell outta here!” Derek opened the door with the T-shirt fist. Ty ran too, away from the insect-ghostlike-creatures lurking in the corners. The neon flamed up behind him, like a rocket. A giant bonfire. And the creatures vaporized like Miss Sally’s hair, zooming to their ship that hovered in the upper atmosphere. A Star Trek spacecraft.

  Ty froze, his eyes on the sky.

  Derek yelled and waved him over. But his voice was on mute.

  Ty couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Derek had to physically pull him back into the truck, where Ty tucked into himself on the passenger seat. Their ship ticked loudly, the sound shaking the ground, the truck. Ty plugged his ears and squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for it to stop. It whirred and croaked and threatened to crush them, squash the truck like the shell of a beetle. And then it went black. Silent.

  The courtroom held an eerie silence, and Ty wasn’t sure of anything. He felt spent. Exhausted. But, after all that talking, he didn’t feel the relief he expected.

  Dock’s voice: “Tyler Trout, is that a confession?”

  Gerrity: “Objection. I’d like to request a recess, your honor.”

  Recess. Like in elementary school. Swings and slides and monkey bars. An hour of freedom that seemed endless.

  Gerrity’s request was denied. He looked strung out. “I’d like to call a mistrial.”

  Dock’s voice again, louder this time: “Tyler Trout, is that a confession?”

  Gerrity shouted, “Objection!”

  The judge glared at Ty’s lawyer. “Overruled.” Then, he said a bunch of other things Ty didn’t understand, pounded his gavel, and nodded to the policeman standing in the corner.

  Things shifted in the courtroom. Police guy came to his side and grasped his arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  Ty felt the clogging spinning top in his chest. Racing like an electric drill.

  “Mom? What’s going on?”

  She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She wept into her hands, hiding from him and everyone.

  The lights on the UFO cameras flickered. Spun, too.

  His arms were forced behind his back. Handcuffs clicked around his wrists.

  Wait. Help. Something had gotten off track. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t what Gerrity said would happen. Something was wrong.

  Frantic, Ty looked up at the judge’s bench. That pudgy, red-faced dude with glasses wasn’t there anymore. It was the kahuna alien.

  Spinning top buzzed like electricity in his chest. Was it too late? Shit. Shit. Shit.

  His words were fast. “They were watching the whole time. They called me names. It was an order. I had no choice. They weren’t going to let me go. They have a plan. And I’m part of it.”

  Ty trembled. Everything vibrated. The whole freaking room. The walls were closing in.

  “They’re here right now. Watching me. Watching everything.”

  Police guy tried to lead him away, out of the courtroom. But Ty stayed put. He couldn’t tear his eyes from UFO cameras.

  Red eye went solid. The buzzing became a slow hum. Was that it? Did he do it? Were they satisfied?

  The judge was talking to him now. To Ty’s surprise, it was the pudgy, red-faced guy looking over his glasses at him.

  “…do you understand?”

  More words. One stuck. It was for Ty alone.

  Confession.

  The weight of the word was oppressive. Another word would come later, after deliberations, from the jury foreman:

  Guilty.

  That would be for Ty alone too. He could hear it already. It screamed from the walls. Fear erupted, started at his feet and grew. Filled the whole room like smog. Consumed him.

  They were immune, at a safe distance in their UFOs.

  They were done. And they had won.

  September 1992

  Lots of things changed in second grade. Some good, some not so good. Some just weird.

  Good: Hen could go to the bus stop all by himself. After all, he was eight now.

  Not so good: Second grade was a lot of work, with a lot of homework.

  Just weird: Tyler was gone. He didn’t babysit him after school. Tyler couldn’t make him a snack or teach him to ride a bike. Hen had the whole bedroom to himself. Which was sometimes scary and all the time lonely.

  Off the bus today, Hen’s street was quiet and breezy. He breathed in the autumn air. The damp leaves that plastered the pavement smelled like salt and sulphur, like morning sleep.

  Miss Sally’s house had sold during the summer. The new owners—newlyweds from Massena—hadn’t yet moved in. Her house was empty. Had been empty for months and months. It seemed peaceful, though, now. Not so sad.

  Miss Sally would always be with him. How she insisted on table manners even with after-school snacks. Her snickerdoodle cookies. The pile of coffee table books. Playing l
ong, quiet games of chess. Her plaid chair. The Juicyfruit house. All her love, all the memories of her, he kept inside, close to his heart.

  He weaved in and out of the leaf piles all the way home. Leaves were changing fast. Soon all would be off the trees. Last week, when he and Mom drove down 87, the mountains had turned from green green to speckled green. Reds and oranges and yellows mixed in. Driving through the winding Adirondack valley was like driving along a big, coppery quilt.

  Now it was leaf pile time.

  Hen half expected to see Bernie in the backyard, rake in hand, making his own piles. But he wasn’t. He sat with Mom in the living room. She was home already?

  They were waiting for him.

  “Hi, sweetie.” Marcella smiled in a way he hadn’t seen for months. Since before the trial, before Tyler got in trouble. Hen stayed by the door.

  Bernie’s smile was big too. “Hen, come on in and sit down. We have something we want to tell you.”

  “What?”

  Mom still smiled. “Take off your things, silly. And come sit down.”

  Hen dropped his backpack and shucked off his sneakers. They had something to tell him. He had to get his words out, fast. “There are leaf piles again. I know what I need to do. It will be way easier to catch one if we make a nest. Like, a little den. We can use mud and dried leaves. Like, a mini cave. We can put a strawberry inside.”

  Mom kind of laughed. “What are you talking about?”

  “To catch a hedgehog. Right, Hen?” Bernie said.

  Hen nodded, and pulled off his jacket. “I want to name him Louis. I’ll get my markers. I’ll draw it and show you what I mean.”

  “Wait, Hen. Please. Come and sit. We want to tell you something important.”

  Hen’s stomach dropped. Important might mean bad. It had before. The last time Mom told him something important, she explained where Tyler had gone.

  He’d been sentenced to rehab.

  Rehab. He’d heard the word a lot lately. Grownups let it roll off their tongues like a song lyric. When the mail delivered a letter from Tyler, Hen saw a similar word in the return address. Hen had to ask what it meant.

  “Rehabilitation,” Mom had said. “Like, working to get better.”

  “Is he sick?”

  She had looked sick herself. Hen wished he hadn’t asked.

  “Yes, Hen. He needs to get better.”

  “His letter says he’s in a special hospital. So, he’s not in jail?”

  “No. But he can’t leave the rehab.”

  “So it’s kind of like jail?”

  Big sigh. “We can still visit him.”

  Was this what they wanted to talk with him about? Visiting Tyler? The idea scared him a little. He made his way to the chair near the sleeping TV. The air in the room thickened. Mom and Bernie sat so close, their knees touched. Their interlaced fingers were like a knit blanket.

  “We have some happy news.”

  Hen waited, feeling some relief. If this wasn’t about visiting Tyler, though, what was it about?

  “Bernie’s going to live here. With us.”

  Hen waited. Blinked a few times. This was the happy news? It hardly seemed like news.

  “Did you hear me, Hen? Bernie’s moving in.”

  They expected him to say something. “When?”

  “We wanted to talk to you about that. Wanted to see how you felt about everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Well, you know. If it was okay with you.”

  Hen wasn’t sure what they meant. Bernie was here all the time. He didn’t see how it would be any different.

  “Okay,” Hen said.

  Mom let go of Bernie’s hand and leaned forward. “Hen, how does this make you feel?”

  Hen shrugged.

  “What do you think of it? Are you okay with it?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  Mom laughed for real. It was nice to hear her laugh. “Really? I was worried.”

  “About what, Mom?”

  Bernie seemed concerned too. “Do you have any questions? I’m not going to take your mother away from you. No one could ever do that. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah.” Hen gave Mom a small smile.

  “You sure?”

  Hen fidgeted. “Uh-huh. Can I draw my picture now?”

  “Hen, this is very much about you. Bernie and I care for each other, but you are the most important thing.”

  “To both of us,” Bernie added.

  Mom glanced at Bernie in a sharing-secret kind of way. “It took me a while to see it, but Sally was right all along.”

  “Miss Sally?” Hen’s throat closed, hearing her name.

  “Yes, Miss Sally wanted us together. This was her hope for us. For you.”

  “For me?”

  Bernie scratched his chin. “It’s complicated. One day you’ll understand.”

  A few beats passed. Hen scrunched his eyebrows. Miss Sally wanted Bernie to move in? Grownup stuff was more confusing than a game of chess.

  “Can I draw my picture now?”

  “Sure, sweetie.”

  He left them there on the couch. He wasn’t sure if they went back to holding hands, but if they did, he was okay with it.

  The mud cave turned out better than Hen had hoped. Like a mini earth-igloo. Bernie helped him. After dinner, they found the perfect place for it in the backyard. Along the tree line among small piles of dead leaves.

  Bernie was unsure. “There’s nothing keeping the critter in. You know, once they get in.”

  “That’s the point. They don’t have to stay.”

  “Doesn’t seem like much of a trap.”

  “It’s not really a trap. More like a home. They’re supposed to want to stay.”

  “And then you’ll bring them inside and they’ll get all prickly trying to find a way back out.”

  “Maybe I won’t bring him in. Maybe I’ll let Louis stay right here in the backyard. In his little den.”

  Bernie smiled, his eyes flashing in the evening light. “Good luck, then.” He heaved off the ground and brushed dirt from the seat of his jeans.

  “Bernie?”

  “Yahp?” Bernie sank onto a hip as if he had all the time in the world.

  Hen wanted to ask a question but didn’t know how. Bernie sat back on the ground, getting his jeans dirty all over again.

  “What’s up?” Bernie’s voice made Hen feel safe. But he still didn’t know how to ask.

  Bernie gave their hedgehog trap a little pat. “You got a good den, here, Hen. You did a nice job. Any critter would be lucky to call it home.”

  “Thanks.”

  They were quiet awhile. Hen studied the stubble on Bernie’s usually clean-shaven chin. Spikes stuck out around the dome of his jaw, like a hedgehog.

  “Gonna be dark soon.” Bernie looked at the sky.

  The sky looked huge.

  “Was it hard?” Hen’s voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours.

  Bernie’s eyebrows went up. “Was what hard?”

  “Forgiving.”

  Bernie took a long breath. He looked Hen right in the eye. “You’re talking about Tyler, aren’t ya?”

  Hen nodded.

  Another big breath. Bernie’s smile was long gone. He looked over to Miss Sally’s. “Yes, it is. It was. Thing is about that, though, I love your mother. I have to say I’ve never loved another human being as much as I love your mother. And your mother? Well, she loves Tyler. She loves you and Tyler more than her own self. And when you love somebody, you love what they love. I love everything she loves.”

  “Mom loved Miss Sally too.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  Miss Sally’s house was dark quiet. The big bay window was like a sleeping TV. Hen tried to remember what it was like inside, but it was hard.

  Hen whispered, “I miss her. I loved Miss Sally.”

  “I know you did. I loved her too.”

  “She was your ma.”

  “She was. S
till is. Always will be.”

  “Don’t you miss her?”

  Bernie’s voice was soft. “‘Course I do. Miss her every day.”

  “It’s not fair.” Tears sprang from Hen’s eyes, as sudden as a summer storm.

  Bernie let Hen cry. “I know, buddy. You got lots of feelings. It’s okay.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Oh, I was. I still have my moments. I ask God ‘why’ all the time.”

  Tears fell over the hedgehog den. Hen felt he’d never stop crying. His voice was all wavy from it. “How could you forgive him?”

  When Hen looked up, he wished he could take the question back.

  A tear had rolled down Bernie’s cheek, leaving a wet streak like a shiny scar. Hen blinked at Bernie, amazed at how quietly he cried. He didn’t make a sound. His face didn’t change. If it weren’t for the streak of wetness on his face, Hen wouldn’t realize he’d been crying at all.

  Hen sniffed his tears and wiped his face, smudging it with soil. He smelled earth and drying mud in the air.

  Bernie didn’t move to wipe his tear-scar away. It looked like a strand of tinsel in the evening light. His words were slow and careful. “I can’t say it was easy. It ain’t easy even still. I guess I’m working on forgiving him, because that’s what Ma would’ve done.”

  “Miss Sally would’ve forgiven him?”

  Bernie gave him a sad smile and got to his feet. “That’s what Ma would’ve done.” He left Hen there with all his feelings. He made his way back to the house without bothering to brush off the seat of his jeans.

  Hen startled awake. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. His digital clock read 11:42. He got his flashlight from under his bed and headed downstairs. He grabbed his coat and headed outside before he was fully awake. The cold night air stung. It was the darkest night he’d ever seen. No stars in the sky. No moon. It was deep night. Dark quiet all around. But Tyler’s voice found him: “Think of this, Hen. When it’s dark, it’s dark for everyone. You don’t even need to hide. It hides you.”

  Hen paused at the top step. Tears built as a yearning for Tyler took hold. Hen sank down onto the worn wood. The light from his flashlight jockeyed as he shook with sobs.