by Iman Verjee
It’s only six o’clock but the sun has already fallen asleep, shut its fiery eye. With the sudden darkness, something else is closing in on me. I am back at the Academy and already, the picture in my head has faded. I am filled with a restlessness I have never felt before. It jumps and pushes at me in frustration and I can’t stay still. I think about how I could have become a possible fixture in their family; how that would have allowed me to grow closer to Joseph and how adamant she was in not allowing it. A sharp desperation pricks at me; I don’t know how I will make it through the next three weeks with only this feeling for company.
I reach under my pillow and pull out a picture I have of him. It came in the post two days ago, along with a Christmas calendar and a pair of gloves. The photo was of him and my mother; they were standing in the park and one of them was holding the camera above their faces. She was wearing a dark green scarf and his hair looked grayer than I remember. I cut her out and kept his picture. It has already been folded and unfolded so many times that it’s now beginning to split. I fall back onto my pillow and let his eyes roam over me. My fingers go over his mouth, and I feel its sting against my own. They travel down the shape of his shoulders and the need to put my arms around him; feel him solid and hot under me, so strong it takes my breath away. Then I hear a knock outside my door and I quickly slide the picture under my pillow and sit up in time as Sister Ann enters.
‘Are you sleeping?’ she asks.
‘No.’ I am aware of how suspicious I look; sat in the corner of my bed, shrouded by the fading day. ‘I was praying.’
She smiles, pleased with my response. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘I just finished.’
She comes to sit on my bed. ‘I didn’t know you did that.’ She pats my knee and looks around the room. I follow her eyes, feeling caught out. ‘Prayed alone, I mean.’
‘Sometimes. I’ve started to.’ To distract her, I ask, ‘Is it dinnertime yet?’
‘No.’ She crosses her legs and I notice again how womanly she is. Through the thin material of her habit, you can catch the occasional glimpse of her slim waist, the elongated arch of her spine that carries her softly straight. Those hands that always sit loose and light on her knees.
‘You have blonde hair,’ I say in surprise.
She tucks the loose strands back into her headdress and laughs quietly. ‘More like a dirty brown,’ she corrects me but she is wrong. ‘Actually, I’m here because Joseph is downstairs.’
I don’t know why he has come but when she says it, I involuntarily shrink into the blanket. ‘I haven’t done anything,’ I say.
She looks at me, confused. ‘He told me he ran into you today.’
‘I went to thank him.’ I’m not sure why I am so flustered. Sister Ann is oblivious to the way my body burns up, the beads of sweat that break out along my upper lip.
‘That’s good of you,’ she says absently. ‘He’s here to ask you if you wouldn’t mind babysitting his son tonight.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You don’t have to but he’s here to get you, if you want. I think it’s a good idea.’
I don’t know what to say. ‘I’m not sure if—’
‘It’s fine if you’re not comfortable,’ she assures me. ‘I can always get someone else.’
‘No.’ I stop her quickly. My head is giddy and I’m smiling so big, it hurts. ‘I would love to.’
She stands up, straightening out the shape she has made in my covers. ‘Great. Get your stuff and we’ll go downstairs together.’
I grab my bag and slip my exercise book into it; it doesn’t matter which subject. I won’t be looking at it. I put a pen in as well, just for good measure. ‘Okay.’ I hitch my bag onto my shoulder. ‘I’m ready.’
He is smiling in the foyer and I see him as I come down the stairs. I try to slow my footsteps but I crash into him at the bottom.
‘I’m glad to see you.’ He takes his hand out of his pocket and clasps my shoulder. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yes.’ I am grinning widely, skipping ahead of him.
‘I’ll drop her off when we get back,’ he tells Sister Ann.
‘Try not to be too late.’ She smiles warmly at me. ‘Have fun.’ I grin and skip ahead and shout back over my shoulder that I will.
‘I’m not sure about this. There’s something about her, Joseph.’
I can hear them talking through the thin walls as I sit on their couch with Alex at my feet. I let him take hold of my shoelaces and he unties and ties them, making small, almost perfect knots. And the bunny goes around the hole.
‘Who taught you how to do that?’ I ask.
‘My dad.’ He smiles up at me. ‘You want me to show you?’ He has warmed to me so quickly; never having acknowledged my presence any of the other times I have seen him.
‘Maybe later,’ I pat the couch beside me. ‘Let’s just sit here for now and you can read your book.’ I want him to be quiet, just until they have left.
‘Nova, please.’ His voice sounds deeper through the cracked pain. ‘At least give it a chance.’
‘I know you feel responsible for her after what happened at the river,’ she is trying to keep her voice low. ‘But you don’t always have to be the hero.’
‘I know that,’ he says, a little sharply. ‘Look, I talked to a teacher at the Academy. No one has any objections with her. She went through a rough time and she’s come out of it.’
‘I don’t trust her. It just doesn’t feel right. It’s the way she looks at us—it makes me uncomfortable.’ I look at Alex, as if he can understand what his mother is saying but, of course, he is oblivious and more interested in the pattern on my socks. My cheeks flush under the accusation and it hurts more than I thought it would to know that she doesn’t like me.
‘You’re just worked up about tonight. Come on, come here.’ I imagine him hugging her, gathering her up into the wide span of his body. ‘You know I wouldn’t have asked her if I didn’t think it would be okay.’
Then they come into the room and Joseph kisses Alex goodbye. ‘Be a good boy for Frances, now.’ He puts him down and the boy holds onto his leg. ‘You’ll be alright?’ He turns to me.
‘Fine.’ I smile, trying to reassure him even though I have no idea what I will do when they have left.
‘And you’ve done this before?’
‘All the time,’ waving my hand in the air and meeting his eyes straight-on. ‘I was the neighborhood nanny.’
He smiles at this. ‘We’re going to visit Nova’s brother,’ Joseph tells me. ‘I’ve left the number by the telephone. In case you need anything, call us.’
‘Thanks.’ I force a confidence I don’t have into my voice. ‘There shouldn’t be any problems, though.’
‘He has to be in bed by eight thirty,’ Nova tells me, kneeling down and pulling her son to her, her lips lingering on his cheek.
‘Got it.’ I shake my eyebrows at Alex, settling into the role. ‘Hear that, little man? Eight thirty sharp.’ He giggles and Nova relaxes a little. She kisses the top of his head once more as she stands. ‘We’ll be home around eleven,’ she says, and her features slacken, letting the light soften in her eyes, prettying her features. ‘Thank you very much for doing this.’
Her words send a firework of colors exploding in my cheeks and I hold onto the edge of the couch, bouncing my knee.
‘Anytime,’ I reply and when she closes the door behind her, I throw back my body and pump my fist in the air, shouting out in triumph. Alex, watching me keenly, stands up and does the same.
‘Bet you can’t catch me, bet you can’t catch me.’
And he’s right. A slippery, fast-moving six-year-old, Alex knows all the places to hide so that I can’t get a hold of him. He crawls under his bed and every time I reach out to grab him, he slides further into the corner.
‘Come on, Alex. You heard what your mother said about bedtime.’ I press my face into the carpet and I’m met with wide, blinking eyes.
/> ‘I’m not tired yet,’ he says. ‘And Janine always lets me stay up until whatever time I want.’ I remind myself to tell Nova this even though I know it might not be true.
‘We don’t have to sleep right away,’ I say, stretching out my legs so that I’m lying flat. The carpet digs roughly into my stomach but I don’t move.
‘What do you mean?’ I have caught him in my net of interest and he crawls nearer.
‘I could tell you a story,’ I say. ‘If you promise to come out.’
‘Tell me the story first.’
‘I’ll tell you half of it. If you like it, you can come out and we can finish the rest of it in your bed.’
‘Okay.’ He likes this deal.
I turn around, shifting my weight into the carpet to get comfortable and fold my arms over my chest. Tilting my head to the side, I look at him and for a moment, see someone else. A little girl with her chin in her hands, looking into eyes identical to her own.
‘I’m waiting,’ he reminds me.
Once upon a time. ‘I’ve heard that one already,’ he interrupts me.
‘Not this one.’
‘I’ve heard all the once-upon-a-times. Tell me something different.’
‘Alright.’ I close my eyes and it comes to me without being called. It’s the story I have heard a hundred times before, with him under the luminous glow of my fake galaxy. He stopped telling it to me a long time ago but the words have stuck, like an old and broken piano tune. I blow the dust off it and start.
‘This is a story only meant for the best little boys. Is that you?’ I pause to ask. He nods, legs creeping closer to me, his eyes shining with interest. ‘Okay, then.’ The world fades out again. It’s a special story because if you’re lucky, you might learn its secret.
My father appears in the veiny light slipping under my eyelids, like a cracked picture that has seen too many years of sunlight. He is leaning over me and everything has disappeared into his smile; it is the only thing I see.
There is a magic house, not far from here, hidden in a magic forest, invisible to those it doesn’t wish to show itself to. But I can tell you how to get there, if you like.
‘Yes, yes!’ I would sit on his knee and bounce against his chest and often, he would throw back his head and his laughter would rain down on me. Then he would stroke my hair, bringing me back down into the waiting shape of his body, molding me to him. His arms would always find their way around my waist, pulling me close, almost pinching.
There’s a creek. The softest, lightest one you’ll ever find; barely skimming the rocks and you’ll have to listen very hard for it. You’ll hear it because the air is so heavy and sweet that the river is in love with it and sings for it always. When it passes you, you might mistake it for a flash of light coming through the trees.
His voice took on a different quality when he told the story; it ebbed and sang and sounded easy. I could almost hear the river in it, traveling the channels of his blood. As he wandered this secret wood, his fingers would grow slack, like he had forgotten me. I had to shake him to bring him back.
‘How will I know which way to follow it?’ I asked.
Go in the direction it’s flowing. But be wary; it’s tricky and sometimes changes without warning, just like that. When you reach the end, there will be a clearing and you’ll know you’re there because it leads into a field. And in this empty field, there is only one tree. A pink cherry blossom.
‘A tree like ours?’ I climbed over him, always shocked at this; always eager to point out the uncanny coincidence. The tree was just below my window, spreading its cotton candy branches beneath me like a cloud.
Exactly like ours. And you have to tap on the tree’s old branch when you get there. Only three times and only in this rhythm.
His fingers went to my neck, his forefinger and index pressed together like a doctor checking my pulse. One, two, three, he would tap and I would thrill at his fingers so close to the source of me. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I rested my forehead against him. He tucked stray hairs behind my ears and continued.
And then, if the tree wishes to show you, there it will be, sitting in the middle of the field, waiting for you to go in. Red door, blue shuttered windows; a valley of mountains as its gates.
‘Who lives there?’ I loved my part in the storytelling. Even though I already knew all the answers, I still waited eagerly for my chance to speak. Taking his body out from under me, he would put his hands behind his head. His throat bobbed as he struggled to swallow. I put my finger to the hard nub and he would hold my wrist there and smile.
A man and the girl he loves the most in this world; his daughter. The house is lovely when you go inside. The windows are always open and it’s sunny all the time. The birds come and sit at the ledges and the air smells fragrant. They spend all their time there, in that house. They play and cook and tell each other stories.
He winked at me. ‘Do they ever leave?’ I asked once. His face darkened.
‘No, they don’t.’ I asked him why not. ‘Because they’re happy there. They don’t need anyone else.’ The river in his voice turned stormy. I never asked again.
He has to hide her because of the townspeople. He’s scared that someone might come and take her away. If that happened, he would be all alone with nothing but the birds and some squirrels for company. And if she went away, the river would stop flowing.
‘Why would they take her?’
I stop at this new question. ‘What’s that?’ I hadn’t noticed Alex coming out from under the bed, sitting next to me, his crossed knees grazing my side. He is chewing thoughtfully on his thumb, his forehead creased in question.
‘Why would the people want to take her away from her father?’
I lie quiet, my mind still in the grips of the magic house before I shake my head free of it. I don’t have an answer for him because it’s a question I never thought of asking. It only seemed natural that he would want to hide her, that she would want to be hidden, and now I feel unnerved.
‘Come on, it’s late. Let’s get you into bed,’ I say, standing up and helping him under the covers. He is already dressed in his pajamas.
‘I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,’ he tells me.
‘Do you want to?’
‘No.’ He smiles like we’re sharing a joke.
‘Then we’ll leave it just this once.’ I press my finger to his mouth. ‘It’ll be our little secret, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He closes his eyes and I stand over him until his breathing reduces to a steady rhythm and his body grows warm. I go to turn off the lights.
‘My dad says you only hide something when you’re doing something wrong.’ He has flipped onto his side and is watching me. I turn the switch down, flicking the room into darkness. His night light casts peculiar shadows against the wall—streaking fish in the deepest part of the ocean.
‘Go to sleep, Alex,’ I say. ‘Sweet dreams.’
I go downstairs and sit on the couch. Everything is unearthly quiet.
They’ll let you in, if you ask nicely. Take some daisies with you, they’re his daughter’s favorite and they grow at the edge of the clearing, drinking from the water.
‘How do you know they’ll let me in?’ I asked. He turned me over, his elbows by my ears, his mouth pressing fast and dry kisses along my nose and chin.
‘Because they trust you,’ he says simply. ‘Because they know that you’ll understand, when you see them, why they have to stay there. Because you can keep their secret.’ He paused and our eyes met. He had stared at me countless times before, but never like that.
You can keep a secret, Frances, can’t you?
I rouse to the sound of a key in the door. They keep their voices down as they come in and I reach the corridor just as the door closes. I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the light that makes Nova’s eyes look so red and her face so worn.
‘Hi,’ I say to them. Joseph rubs his hands and jingles them in his pocket for warmth. The cold ha
s crept in behind them, stuck to their clothes, and I shiver.
‘Hello,’ unraveling his scarf. ‘How was it?’
‘Great.’ I try to talk to Nova but she avoids my eye, slowly shrugging off her coat, absently staring at the shoe rack by the wall. ‘He’s a really good boy.’
‘Is he asleep?’ he asks.
‘Yes. Eight thirty, just like you said.’
She sighs. Closes her eyes and sways slightly. Joseph is holding her by the waist.
‘Thank you.’ She walks, stumbles, and he catches her by the tail of her shirt. ‘I’m fine,’ she insists, brushing him off. ‘Joseph will take you home,’ she says. ‘I’m going to go say goodnight to my son.’
‘Try not to wake him,’ Joseph calls to her in a loud whisper.
We stand in the corridor, facing each other. He rubs the back of his neck and smells sharp and clean, like air.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask. There is something wrong with her, I can tell.
‘Everything is fine.’ He slowly removes his jacket. ‘Look, would you mind staying the night? Nova isn’t feeling well and we really didn’t expect to be so late.’ I’ll call up the Academy and let them know, if it’s okay with you.’
‘Yes.’ I say it before he’s finished. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘The couch is a pull-out and we have lots of blankets and three pillows to choose from,’ he grins.
‘Any is fine.’ I try to stop the bubbles of eagerness rising in my throat but they make my words choppy.
He glances up the stairs where Nova has disappeared. Everything is strangely quiet. ‘You sure you don’t mind?’ he asks. I shake my head, not believing the luck of it all. ‘I’ll go get the stuff for you then.’
I wait for him by the couch as he goes upstairs to get a blanket and a pillow. I watch the clock impatiently, listening for him talking to Nova, waiting for her to change his mind. It seems to take an unusually long time before he comes back down with both items tucked under his arms.
‘I’ve just spoken to Sister Ann and she said it would be okay if you stayed here the night and I dropped you back tomorrow morning.’