by Geof Johnson
“Ouch,” Lisa said. “I don’t think he wants to ride with his mommy.”
“Yeah, shows you where his loyalties are.” Rachel frowned. “Well, they can’t all ride with me because my car’s too small. How about if you drop them off at my house before you go to work, and my mom will walk them to the bus stop?”
“We can’t ask your mom to do that.”
“I don’t think she’ll mind at all. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
* * *
They walked across the parking lot and Jamie pointed to the enormous mansion. “Mommy, I’ve been here before.”
“I don’t think so, Sweetie,” Rachel said. “I would’ve known about it.”
“No, I have. They have a big room when you first walk in, and it’s got plants and stuff. And upstairs, they have lotsa bedrooms, and one is all yellow like mustard and has ugly furniture.”
“You probably saw something on TV about it.”
“No, Mommy. They got a big basement, and it’s got a gym. What’s a gym?”
“It’s where you can exercise inside.”
“Oh. So they got a gym and it’s got lotsa tile, and there are servants’ rooms and they make dinner down there.”
“Okay, we get the idea. Let’s go see for ourselves.”
But he was right about the big room with plants. When they were touring upstairs, Adele said quietly, “This room is mustard yellow.”
Lisa nodded. “And the furniture’s ugly, too.”
The basement was just the way Jamie described it. “That’s funny,” Rachel said. “He doesn’t usually pay much attention to grownup stuff on TV.”
* * *
During lunch, Jamie said, “Can we go to the garden? They gotta pretty garden with lotsa flowers, and a lady who plays the harp.”
“What’s a harp?” Rollie asked.
“It’s a musical instrument,” Adele said. “It’s beautiful.”
On their way down the arbored path to the gardens, they did see a harp, but no lady.
“Excuse me,” Rachel asked a nearby Biltmore employee. “Is there going to be somebody playing this?” She pointed to the harp.
“Yes,” they said. “She’s on break. Try back in fifteen minutes.”
That was the kids’ cue to take off running for the flowers. Their moms strolled leisurely through the beautiful garden while the kids raced and played tag, then stopped and looked at flowers, then took off again.
Then Jamie found the butterfly. Or the butterfly found him. He motioned the other kids to hold still as he held out his hand for the yellow-winged creature, who fluttered momentarily before lighting on his finger.
“Ooohh,” Rollie said. “I want it.” But as he reached for the insect, it fluttered above them.
“You have to be gentle,” Jamie said. “They get scared. Hold still.”
Rollie held still as a statute with his hand out, and the butterfly returned and landed on his finger.
“Oh, wow,” he said.
“Me next,” Fred said, shaking with excitement.
“Hold your hand next to Rollie’s and be real still,” Jamie said.
Fred held her hand next to Rollie’s and the butterfly walked over to perch on her outstretched finger.
“There’s a butterfly on me! Mom. Mom!”
But the butterfly fluttered from her hand. Fred held still and it returned.
“Our moms are way over there.” Jamie pointed. “But I think he likes us. If we’re kinda calm, he’ll stay around.”
They walked among the flowers and the butterfly flitted with them, sometimes settling on one or the other, sometimes fluttering above, but always close by.
Their mothers found them and the kids showed them the butterfly.
“That’s amazing,” Lisa said. “How’d you get it to do that?”
“He likes us, that’s how,” Fred said with a hint of confidence in her voice.
As they walked back toward the main house, they passed the harpist, who was playing. They stopped to listen, and the butterfly settled on Fred’s hair clip.
The harpist stopped and looked up. “You have a butterfly on your head…is that real?”
“Uh huh,” Fred said. “It’s real, and it likes us. It’s our friend.”
“I can see that.”
“Do you want to hold it?” Jamie asked.
“Do you think I could?”
“Sure, he won’t mind. He likes you, too.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me.”
The harpist looked at the parents with her eyebrows raised. Rachel said, “Don’t ask. Just go with it.”
The harpist held out her hand and the little winged animal walked off of Fred’s head and settled on one of her fingers.
“I’ve never held a butterfly before.” Her eyes were wide.
“We gotta go now,” Jamie said. “But I think he wants to stay with you, unless he needs to go visit a flower or something. But he said he’ll come back.”
“Rachel, you have a funny little boy,” Adele said.
“All three of them are amazing, aren’t they?” Lisa said.
So they stayed to listen to the harpist play one more piece, the three families together, their lives intertwining like the vines on the arbor above them, their children, the flowers.
Chapter 13
Fred was almost one full day older than Jamie, and she reminded him of it every chance she got.
“Mom, is Fred really older than me?” Jamie asked one night during dinner.
“Well, she was born the day before you, so technically she is,” his mother said.
“But is she a whole day older?”
“No, I think she was born about 9:30 in the morning. That makes her about eighteen hours older.”
“Is that a whole day?”
“No, a whole day is twenty four hours.”
“Eighteen is less, right?”
“Right. It’s six hours less than a full day. A whole day.”
“So, she’s not really a whole day older, right?”
“If you look at it that way, yes.”
He felt quite satisfied with that answer. She was only eighteen hours older. He couldn’t wait to tell Fred.
* * *
The first day of school is always stressful and exciting every year for any family, but the very first day ever — that’s a day you will always remember. For Carl, it wasn’t starting out as his best memory.
“But Jamie,” he said that morning, “it’s okay if I go to work a little late today.”
“Gramma’s taking me and Rollie and Fred to the bus stop.” He pulled hard on his father’s hand, dragging him toward the kitchen.
“I want to go to the bus stop, too, and see my big boy off. It’ll be great, right? First day of school, first time on the bus?”
Now Jamie pushed his father through the kitchen toward the door to the garage. “No, Daddy. Gramma already said she’s taking us. You gotta go to work.”
Carl started to continue his argument, but when he saw the determined look on his son’s face, he dropped it. Jamie obviously didn’t want his friends thinking that he was a baby who had to have his daddy walk him to the bus stop. Gramma was okay, for some reason, but not his daddy. Carl packed up his wounded pride and left.
* * *
The first day of school is always a little exciting for a teacher, too. They never know what their new crop of kids will be like, what kind of cards they’ll be dealt, but this year Rachel knew she had two aces — Rollie and Fred. Rachel knew exactly what she was getting with them and looked forward to teaching them. However, she felt bad that Jamie didn’t have either of his best friends in his class. Molly Heflinger was his teacher, but that was probably better. He’d make new friends, instead of cocooning with his old ones.
The first thing they did as a class was go around the room, each child introducing themselves. Fred stood and said her name, and most of the kids laughed. Rachel could tell that Fred was embarrassed
, but Rachel was ready for that.
She went to the whiteboard. “Fred’s real name is Grace Mary, but because she has red hair,” — she wrote RED on the board — “her parents started calling her ‘Red’.” She looked at the class. “But her parents are fun people, so they added the F,” — she wrote the letter F in front of RED — “and made it ‘Fred’, and that’s why we call her Fred. You can call her Grace Mary, but she answers to Fred.” The kids seemed to like the story of Fred’s name.
And Rachel knew that would nip the teasing in the bud.
* * *
The first day of school for Jamie was exciting at first, and then a little bit scary. He was in a class with total strangers. It was the first time in his whole life that he didn’t have the comfort of a familiar face. But after he figured out that most of the other kids were in the same situation, he felt much better. After all, his mother was in the next room.
And Mrs. Heflinger was really nice. She laughed a lot, like Fred’s mom.
* * *
For Evelyn, the first day of school meant that she could enjoy her first extended calm day in the house in five years. No making Jamie’s lunch and washing his dishes. No nagging him to pick up crayons or put books back on the shelf. No strapping him in the car seat and dragging him to the grocery store. Just peace and quiet.
She found the silence to be nearly unbearable.
By 2:00, she was compulsively checking the clock, and by 2:30, she gave up and went to the bus stop early. The bus finally arrived at 2:45 and the kids poured out of its doors with the energy of over-caffeinated monkeys, running to the house. When Evelyn let them in the front door, they dropped their packs and flew to the back door.
She put her hands on her hips. “Kids, don’t leave your back packs on the…”
But it was too late. They were already out of earshot, back door wide open.
Life was back to normal.
* * *
That Thursday night, after Jamie had gone to bed, Rachel, Carl and Evelyn sat around the kitchen table.
“So, how do you think Jamie’s doing?” Carl asked.
“Well, I spoke with his teacher this morning,” Rachel said. “She said he’s doing fine. She thinks he’s really smart, a great reader —”
“Of course,” Evelyn said.
“But he’s a little shy,” Rachel continued.
“I can’t believe that,” Carl said.
“A lot of his classmates had gone to preschool, so they adjust a little faster, and he doesn’t have Rollie and Fred there with him.”
“That’s a good thing,” Evelyn said. “He needs to branch out.”
“I feel like any day now, the other kids will figure out what a special kid he is, and he’ll make lots of friends.”
* * *
That day was Friday.
Rachel was sitting on one of the playground benches during recess when Fred and another girl ran up to her, “Mrs. Sikes, there’s a kitty in the pipe!” They pointed to a ditch along the far side of the playground. A drain pipe at the end ran underneath the fence.
“Are you sure?” Rachel asked.
“Yes ma’am,” Fred said. “We tried to get it out, but it won’t come.”
“Let’s go see.”
When Rachel got to the pipe, she bent down and looked in it, and sure enough, about ten feet inside, she could make out the silhouette of a pair of kitty ears. She thought she heard a faint mew. “Here, kitty kitty.” The cat didn’t budge. She stood and looked around the playground. “Fred, will you get Jamie for me?”
Fred ran off and one of the other kids said, “Can he get the kitty out?”
“Oh, I think Jamie could probably talk a turtle out of his shell.”
A minute or so later, Jamie appeared and had a look. “She’s scared and wet.”
“Can you get her out?” Rachel asked.
“Uh huh. But everybody needs to move so she can’t see you.”
Rachel herded the small crowd of curious children away from the pipe as Jamie talked to it.
“Mrs. Sikes, do you think she’ll come out?” a little girl asked.
“Let’s watch and see.”
It took about five minutes, but the muddy gray kitten finally walked out of the pipe and let Jamie pick her up. He was immediately swarmed by the other children, all wanting to pet the cat.
Jamie stepped back. “Hold on, only one at a time. She’s scared.” Rachel helped them take turns, and sent Rollie to the cafeteria for a box to put the cat in.
When he returned, he said, “One of the lunch ladies said she’ll take the kitty home, if nobody else wants to.”
After that day, Rachel often saw Jamie on the playground with at least a couple of other kids. He didn’t seem to have any trouble making friends once the other kids figured out that he had a knack for finding the coolest bugs, frogs, and other critters.
However, it took Mrs. Heflinger awhile to convince him not to bring the wildlife back to class.
* * *
The following Wednesday afternoon, the moms sat on the deck while the kids played in Jamie’s backyard.
“Come on, Rollie, it’s time to go!” Adele yelled again.
“They’re not hearing you,” Rachel said.
“It’s called selective deafness.” Lisa cupped her hands to her mouth. “You too, Fred. I need to start dinner.”
“Rachel, does it ever bother you that the kids always play in your yard?” Adele asked.
“We like having them here.”
“Don’t they drive your mom nuts?” Lisa said.
“She loves your kids.”
“Don’t you ever wonder why they don’t like coming to our house?”
“Is there a reason?”
“Because Fred tries to make them play dress up.”
“What kind of dress up?” Adele asked.
“We’ve got two big trunks full of stuff I get at garage sales and the party store. Fred likes to put on the tiara and sparkly clothes and be Miss Queen Princess of the World and boss the boys around.”
“I can see her doing that,” Rachel said.
“I can’t see Rollie doing that,” Adele said.
“Or Jamie,” Rachel said.
Adele nodded sagely. “I think she’s going to be President someday.”
“Or Queen Princess of the World.” Lisa laughed.
* * *
Saturday morning, Rachel was alone at the kitchen table when Jamie came bounding down the stairs.
“Hi Mommy. Where’s Gramma and Daddy?”
“Gramma’s volunteering at the food bank, and Daddy had to go to work. They’ll be home in a little while.”
“Can Rollie and Fred come over?”
“They can’t come over today. They’re going to a birthday party.”
“Can I go?”
“No. You weren’t invited.”
She could tell by the look on his face that she should’ve thought of a better way to tell him.
“Why not?” he said, his eyebrows drawn down, lower lip out.
“Only kids from their class were invited.” She almost said my class, since she was their teacher.
“But I wanna go, too.”
She realized that he had never been to another kid’s birthday party. “I’m sorry, but you can’t.” She picked him up and put him on her lap. He was crying. “There will be parties that you’ll go to that they won’t be invited to. It’s fine, Honey. You can survive a day without Rollie and Fred.”
“But I wanna go to the party!”
She squeezed her son tightly. “We’ll have fun anyway, Jamie. You’ll see.”
But an hour later, it started raining.
Carl came home around 2:30 and Rachel filled him in. “He’s been moping on the couch ever since, watching cartoons. He doesn’t want to play Candy Land or read books or anything.”
“I thought something was up,” Carl said. “He wouldn’t say hello to me when I got home.” Carl leaned against the kitchen cabinet and
rubbed his chin. “I think I’ll take him for a ride.”
* * *
Jamie was on his way to get ice cream, and best of all, he got to ride in his father’s pickup truck. The big, beautiful, blue pickup truck. He hardly ever got to ride in it, because it wasn’t as safe as Mommy’s car, or so he’d been told a million times, but today was special. He still wasn’t allowed in the front seat.
“Pretty soon, I’ll be big enough to ride up front with you, Daddy,” Jamie said.
“I know. Don’t grow up too fast, okay?”
Daddy was always saying that.
“Can we get an ice cream sandwich, please?” Jamie loved ice cream sandwiches. Cones were good, too, but the scoop of ice cream tended to fall off, and he was never fast enough to pick it up before his parents noticed.
They always went to the nearby convenience store, the one with two gas pumps out front and rows of candy and snacks inside. His father knew the man behind the counter, and while they chatted, Jamie could wander the aisles and admire the amazing goodies for sale, the little square freezer with pictures of ice cream treats on the side, and the big cooler full of drinks that lined the back wall.
Jamie stood at the rear of the store, eyeing the canned sodas, and an older boy with a black leather jacket walked up, looked around, and opened one of the doors. He pulled two brown bottles from a shelf and slipped them into his coat. When he noticed Jamie, he put his fingers to his lips and said, “Shhh.”
Then the boy pulled an orange soda from the cooler and walked to the front where Jamie’s dad was talking to the clerk. The boy paid for the soda and a pack up gum, but didn’t pull the bottles from his coat. Then he shared a laugh with Jamie’s father and left. Jamie knew the boy had just done something wrong, but didn’t know if he should say anything.
Jamie ate his ice cream sandwich on the way home, wondering if he should tell his father. They were almost back to the house before his conscience got the better of him.
“And you’re sure he put the bottles in his coat? I saw him pay for the soda and gum.” His father glanced over at Jamie. “That’s shoplifting. You know that’s wrong, don’t you?”
Jamie nodded.
“Were you scared to tell me?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I don’t blame you. That boy’s a lot bigger than you. He could’ve hurt you. It’s better to be safe than sorry.” He tapped the steering wheel. “What kind of brown bottles were they?”