“Mrs. Smith,” she said, “would this be a good time for us to go have a cup of coffee and chat?”
“Thank you, but I have to stay with my daughter.”
“We can ask the nurse to keep a special eye on her if that would make you feel better.”
It wasn’t a question, but she wanted me to answer. “No, thank you. I want to stay here.”
That made her be quiet. After a while she said, “You don’t need to thank me so often, Laurel. How would it be if I brought you a cup of coffee and perhaps a little breakfast? The family visiting room across the hall, where you had dinner? We could chat with the door open, and you’d be two steps away if Aspen needed you. You can see her room from there.”
Did she count the steps like I did?
I was hungry, but Abel and Seth had taught me how to fast to make myself pure. “Coffee isn’t good for you.” Thank you, I said in my mind, but not out loud.
“Oh, I see. Is that a dietary choice, or because of your religious beliefs?”
I had to think about that. There wasn’t a rule, not exactly, but Seth wouldn’t let me, partly because it cost too much. “I don’t care for coffee,” I said, which was a lie because I drank it at Louella’s all the time.
“Perhaps I could bring you some hot tea, then, or a soft drink? Do you like Coke or are you a Pepsi drinker?”
“Diet Coke Vanilla,” I said. Somehow the words just came out of my mouth like they had always been there, waiting. I couldn’t even think how it tasted. I was tired, and all I wanted was to shut my eyes and drift off to the sound of Aspen’s machines.
“I am a Diet Cherry Coke gal myself. Tell you what. If you’ll excuse me, I will go in search of some Diet Coke Vanilla and a snack and we can visit another time. Will that be all right?”
“I guess so.”
“What snack foods do you like?”
“I don’t have those.”
“Are you going to tell Aspen more of the story I heard last night?”
“I might.”
“Well, if you do, I’d love to hear it.” She handed me a card with a telephone number on it, and the initials M.F.C.C.
What did that mean? Minister? Female? Compassionate? Chaplain? “I don’t have a telephone.”
“Just ask the nurse to page me. Good-bye for now,” she said. “Aspen, feel better soon.”
I said good-bye for both of us. And I remembered to not say Thank you.
She walked slowly down the hall to the elevator and I wondered if she was going to call the cops. Seth said there weren’t any cops in this town, but maybe a hospital had cops. Maybe she was going to the cafeteria; they had soda machines. Frances secretly drank Dr. Pepper soda. Some nights, when Seth had been really mean and I was crying, she’d drag her sleeping bag close to mine and we’d split a Dr. Pepper. She’d whisper, “You know what, Laurel? Some Outsiders are nice. We could leave this place, get a room somewhere, work as hotel maids.” She said that at night, but in the morning she always changed her mind, saying once you have a prison record, no one will hire you. I never believed her when she said we could leave, but I listened to make her feel better. I never told Seth what she said because then he might hurt her, too, and it was bad enough with him hurting me.
I looked at the clock in Aspen’s room and thought about how many hours it was until four o’clock. Last night I was starving hungry because I hadn’t eaten at all that day. I went for a walk to the bathroom and I watched this man eating a sandwich in the hallway. Then he wrapped one half of it back up and set it in the trash can by the elevator. Outside people threw perfectly good food away all the time, even though people were starving. Caleb and Old St. John told stories about Dumpster Diving, which was when stores threw out perfectly good cans and lettuce and bananas that were brown and they went and got them. Pick off the flies and they were good for making banana bread, Frances said. On the Farm she froze loaves for when we had guests like the drumming group. Right now they were probably having breakfast and eating that bread, warmed up, slathered with butter, sunflower seeds in it, so chewy. We grew sunflowers in the summer. I had to put nets over them to keep the birds from taking all the seeds. Once Seth took a rifle and shot a raven dead right in front of everyone. Frances said that was bad luck and Seth shot another one. I got the feeling he would have liked to aim the gun at Frances. I dug holes and buried the birds, telling them I was sorry, even though I didn’t shoot the rifle. Sometimes I dream of them, too. If I could breathe life back into them, I would.
I picked up that half of a sandwich out of the trash and ate it and nothing bad happened except the cafeteria lady saw me. It was some kind of meat I didn’t know, with bright orange cheese. Old St. John said the Outside World doesn’t care about the homeless and hungry, but I’m not homeless. Even though I am here in this hospital with Aspen I have a home at the Farm. As soon as Aspen wakes up, we’re going home. I know the gate code. Seth will be mad but he’ll get over it.
One late autumn day, the princess—let’s call her Leafy—insisted the guard walk with her in a different direction, on a trail that eventually led into the dark forest.
The trees out this way were so old and big that it would take ten guards with their arms outstretched joining hands around the trunk of one tree to make a circle. Their heavy branches reached clear across the road, creating places so shady that it sometimes was as dark as night in the middle of the day. Their leaves stayed green all through the seasons. They dropped pine-cones or acorns, which is a tree’s way of planting seeds. An acorn is a kind of nut with a brown body and a lighter brown cap. They’re smaller than a hen’s egg, about the size of a grape.
I would buy you some grapes to eat if you’d wake up. Puh-shoo-up.
Princess Leafy wanted to take acorns with her back to the castle. She thought she might make them into doll faces. A doll would make her less lonely in the wintertime, when the leaves were gone and she couldn’t go collecting.
“We mustn’t go too far,” the guard warned her.
“Just a little farther,” the princess begged, and she sang a tune so beautiful that it made the guard remember his childhood, when there was plenty to eat, and people everywhere, other children to play with, and best of all, wild spotted horses and white ponies roaming the hills.
So they walked up a hill until they came to the edge of a cliff they’d never seen before. If the princess had been paying attention, she might have realized that someone was watching, but instead she was paying attention to the noisy river that ran below. It looked like a silver ribbon, splashing along. She imagined the rainbow fish that swam in there. Maybe she could catch a fish and bring it to the king for supper.
The water turned from silver to blue and black, then blue again. The current was swift, and the river sounded like it was laughing. Maybe it was laughing, at her foolishness. The princess saw five silver birds singing in the oak trees’ branches. They flew around her and the guard, and then spiraled down to the river to drink. The princess asked the guard, “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful as those five silver birds?”
“Beauty surrounds us,” the guard answered. “But so does danger. I implore you, Princess, collect your acorns and let us be on our way. It isn’t safe to linger here.”
“No one would dare to harm a princess,” she said, laughing and then bursting into song. Her singing caused the silver birds to fly so close that she could almost reach out and touch them. But birds don’t wish to be caught. She reached and reached, but they knew how to stay just out of her reach. “I must have those silver birds,” she told the guard.
“Birds fly south for the winter,” the guard said. “They need to be warm to make nests and lay eggs for the new birds. It’s not right to meddle with the ways of animals.”
“Nonsense,” the princess said. “I have a fireplace in my chambers. You can keep it burning. Besides, what bird wouldn’t rather live indoors and have its every wish? I will place them in a golden cage so that they can sing to me when the sno
w falls and it’s too cold to fly. Fetch them for me at once.”
“Princess,” the wise old guard said, “you are lovely and powerful, but things are not so simple as you might imagine. Collecting leaves that are done with their lives is one thing, but interfering with the living is unwise, and unkind. I will not do this.”
“Then I will catch them myself.”
The princess said things like that all the time, so the guard paid no attention. She stood at the cliff edge, her heart aching for the birds. Nothing had ever been refused her, and desire rose up and grabbed her heart. She had forgotten her search for the acorns. To cheer her up, the guard collected the best five acorns he could find. He got down on his knees and searched. Every one had the little hat with a piece of stem attached. When he turned his back to place them into the sack, a terrible thing happened. Something or someone—for he never caught a glimpse of his attacker—gave him a great shove, and off he went, tumbling over the cliffside, falling this way and that until he landed by the stream with sticks in his hair and blood on his cheeks. His bag spilled. Pages from the book were torn out, wrinkled, and flying away in the wind. He was dizzy, and he imagined that he called out for the princess. When he heard no answer, he realized he had only dreamed it. He crawled toward the water, praying she hadn’t fallen in, since he did not know how to swim. In the water’s reflection, he saw a great hand take hold of the princess by the arm. She gave out a single scream and then went silent, disappearing from view. The guard fainted. He was bleeding from his torn scalp, and in his leg a bone was broken. The silver birds flew around him, chirping, trying to wake him up.
But he didn’t. He slept because just like you, he was so sick. I wonder sometimes if maybe he didn’t wake up because he didn’t want to. Sometimes, when a terrible thing happens, a person tries to forget it by going to sleep. They pretend it never happened so hard that their mind shuts off. The guard went to the place where there are no dreams. It was quiet there, with time to rest, maybe even forever. The sky turned the colors of leaves, yellow, orange, red, burgundy, and then nearly black. Darkness replaced every stitch of sunlight. Still the guard slept, while his wounds clotted and closed over with new skin. The broken bones in his arm and legs found each other and began to knit back to the way they used to be, together. He didn’t wake until all five silver birds plucked at his sleeve and pecked at his face. When his eyes opened, the birds flew into the sky and took their places. You see, they weren’t birds all the time. In the night they lived in the sky as stars. It was a good thing the princess hadn’t taken them, or the guard wouldn’t have been able to find his way to the castle.
My voice is so tired. I might take a nap.
Aspen, are you dreaming about the birds, or are you in the not-dreaming place? Rest as long as you need to. One day you’ll be out in the world again, playing and singing. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.
Chapter 9
The day after Thanksgiving, Joseph left early for the Candela board meeting. Glory showered, dressed in maternity jeans, a long-sleeved stretchy shirt, and a fleece vest that she hadn’t been able to zip for months. Juniper and Topher had made scrambled eggs and vegetarian sausages. When Glory walked into the kitchen, Halle was flipping through the newspaper inserts. “I can’t believe you slept so late! It’s Black Friday, we need to go shopping!” she said, even before “good morning.”
Halle was dressed in taupe slacks and a black cashmere turtleneck, and she was wearing makeup and beautiful silver earrings. Since being forced to take early maternity leave from the feed store, Glory didn’t bother with makeup or earrings. Just getting through the day was enough work. She noticed the bottle of Baileys Irish Cream on the table and wondered what it was doing there at nine A.M. She poured a cup of decaf and said, “You might want to dial down your expectations, Halle. Our mall has Dillard’s and a JCPenney. This isn’t San Francisco.”
Glory’s mother looked up from the crossword puzzle and said, “Amen to that. Shopping instead of dealing with your troubles doesn’t cure anything, it just empties your pocketbook.”
Halle shot her a look that Glory wouldn’t have dared. Ave didn’t flinch.
“Mom,” Juniper said, “Topher and I are going to the movies. Daddy Joe said to ask what you need us to do before we go. We fed the hens and the dogs. Not that you’d know it by the way they’re behaving.”
All three dogs hovered under the table near Ave’s chair. She was feeding them entire sausages and toast. “Mom, please don’t give them people food,” Glory said. “Haven’t we been through this already? They get sick.”
“Look at how hungry they are,” Ave said. “They need more than dry food.”
“As I was saying,” Juniper muttered, and looked at Glory sympathetically.
“You can’t go to the movies today,” Halle said. “Every screaming child in the universe will be there. Besides, I thought we had this all planned. Shop, lunch, shop some more, and then manis and pedis. It’s our holiday ritual, Juniper. You pick out clothes your mom won’t let you wear and I buy them because I’m your favorite aunt.”
Topher had just the hint of a smile on his face and Glory appreciated it. “Halle, they have to go back to school soon. Why don’t you just take her sizes if you want to buy something? Or better yet, get her a gift card.”
Halle shook her head and poured Baileys into her coffee. “I thought this was our tradition, Glory, girls’ shopping day every Black Friday.”
The truth was, it was Halle’s tradition and Halle’s credit cards that got swiped until her signature wore off the reverse side of the card. Glory went along just to keep her company while she shopped. But seven months pregnant was just not a great stage to be on your feet all day. “I have an idea. How about I take Mom to lunch at the Blue Corn Cafe, and you can shop at Dillard’s and meet us afterwards?”
Juniper looked at Glory with the please-save-me face she’d mastered over the last several years. “Besides, the kids were already planning to see this movie,” Glory continued. “You can see them tonight at dinner. We’ll play Scrabble.”
Ave Smith sipped her coffee and continued breaking off bits of her toast for the dogs. “I’m too gimpy to go out to lunch today,” she said. “You girls want to shop, go by yourselves. I’ll stay home with the dogs and read my new romance novel.” Caddy licked her coffee spoon right off the table and Glory sighed. “See?” Ave said. “A dog doesn’t do that unless it’s hungry.”
“Mom, they aren’t hungry, they’re mooches! For the last time, please don’t feed them from your plate. They get plenty of dog food. Halle? To tell you the truth, I’m a little tired. Why don’t we make turkey sandwiches for lunch, watch a movie, and visit?” She peered out the window. “Looks like it’s going to snow again.”
“Never mind,” Halle said, excusing herself from the table with her coffee and Baileys.
“Gopher, hand me her plate,” Ave said. “Looks like all she did was move things around.” She began chopping the eggs into dog-sized bites.
Glory looked at Juniper and mouthed, Please take me with you.
Juniper laughed.
“What’re you laughing at?” Ave said. “Out of the way, you monsters, this bite’s for skinny Freddy.”
“Eddie,” Glory said, and the Italian greyhound came racing around the table, his feet skidding on the floor. He reminded Glory of Kramer on Seinfeld, one of Juniper’s favorite reruns, now that she had her own television. Seeing that Glory’s lap was unavailable, he leapt into Topher’s, and Topher leaned back, horrified. “Mom, if you feed him again, I’ll have to break your arms. Italian greyhounds are naturally lean, and Eddie’s on a special diet, remember? For his seizures?”
Her mother sighed. “Even animals deserve holiday food.”
Glory took Halle’s plate to the sink and dumped the contents into the disposal. “There, it’s all settled. Topher, if you don’t want Eddie on your lap, just say ‘off’ and he’ll get down. Not everyone loves dogs.”
Topher smil
ed. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Vigil. I’m used to dogs.”
Glory didn’t miss the surprised look Juniper gave him. “Oh, does your family have dogs? Any particular breed? I prefer mutts.”
“My paternal grandmother raises champion Russian wolfhounds. She shows at Westminster every year. My stepmother doesn’t like dog hair, so we don’t have any dogs at home.”
“That’s too bad,” Glory said. “Borzois are such elegant creatures, but they do need space to run, and I mean a lot of space. Well, I imagine you’ll have had your fill of dogs by the end of this weekend. What movie are you going to see?”
“We’re still deciding. I’m up for Twilight, Hellboy II, or The Dark Knight, which is at the dollar theater, but Junie wants to see a chick flick.”
Junie? Glory tried not to react.
“They’re not chick flicks,” Juniper said.
Topher made a face. “But Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants? Don’t tell me that’s not a chick flick.”
“Well, maybe I’ll go see that one on my own,” Juniper said. “Twilight is about vampires. I hate blood. I feel sick just taking off a Band-Aid.”
“I’ve heard good things about Pineapple Express,” Halle said, returning to the kitchen with her empty mug. “It’s about pot, though, so I don’t know if your mom would be all right with that.”
“Pot as in marijuana?” Ave said. “Halle, have you lost your mind?”
Halle frowned and set the coffee mug down so hard everything on the table rattled. “Yes, I have, Mom. Since I’ve lost my house and my husband, I decided why not just throw my mind into the abyss along with everything else? It never got me anywhere and it certainly didn’t help keep my husband. Does that make you happy?”
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