Up High in the Trees

by Kiara Brinkman

  Are we still in Massachusetts? I ask her.

  No, she says, this is New Hampshire.

  Have I ever been in New Hampshire before? I ask her.

  Maybe, she says.

  I know where New Hampshire is on my puzzle map of the United States and how the shape of it is kind of like a triangle. New Hampshire is a light blue puzzle piece and Massachusetts is purple. I try to think about whether it feels different to be here, in a different color and a different shape. I don’t think so.

  We make a turn and then the road gets bumpy.

  It’s somewhere close, Cass says.

  I look around for a house.

  Oh, there, Cass says. She points.

  The house where Emma lives is white with a red door and red paint around the windows. There’s Emma on the front steps and a baby on a pink blanket in the grass. The baby keeps standing up, then falling. Emma waves to us. Her hair is short like boy hair, because she shaved her head to be the same as Sinéad O’Connor, who sings the song on the radio “Nothing Compares 2 U.” That song makes me think of Mother, how many days and weeks and months she’s been gone. I used to always know, but now I try to figure it out. It’s more than five months.

  Cass parks in the long driveway and gets out of the car quickly. She runs to Emma.

  The baby’s gotten so big, Cass says, and her voice comes out loud and shaky because she’s running.

  Emma stands up to hug Cass.

  I stay by the car. I want to get back in and go to sleep.

  Hello, Sebastian, Emma says.

  I wave.

  Come on, says Cass.

  I start walking toward them. Emma picks up her baby and the blanket and we go up the front steps.

  Bees, the baby says to the black-and-white picture of a beehive on the wall.

  We have to take off our shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

  House rules, Emma says.

  I pull off my socks, too, because they’re wet from my feet sweating. The floor is cold wood. I walk on my tiptoes.

  In the kitchen, we sit on yellow chairs. There are maps on the walls with dark arrows and lines drawn on them. I don’t understand the arrows and the fat, black lines, but I think they mean something bad.

  I’ll make tea, Emma says. You have to taste our honey.

  Is nobody home? Cass asks.

  They’re on vacation, says Emma. They left me to watch over everything. Can you hold her? she asks.

  The baby wiggles and kicks on Cass’s lap.

  Oh, what’s the matter? Cass asks her in a small voice and then makes a shushing noise.

  The baby’s face looks ready to cry. Cass bounces her up and down.

  There you go, Cass whispers close to the baby’s ear.

  You guys hungry? Emma asks. I can make something quick.

  Emma’s taking things out of the refrigerator and Cass is bouncing the baby. They’re not looking, so I slide off my chair and sit down under the table. There are six rolled-up posters leaning against the wall in the corner. I reach out and grab one. Then I unroll it slowly so the paper stays quiet and doesn’t crinkle. I have to hold one end down with my feet and one end down with my hands. The poster is another map with fat, black arrows that move from the bottom to the top.

  Those are the directed paths of the killer bees, Emma says.

  I turn and she’s squatting right there behind me.

  Oh, I say. I move off the map and watch how it rolls back up.

  Sebby, get up here, Cass says.

  I crawl out and sit back down in the same yellow chair.

  He hides under tables now, Cass says to Emma.

  But I wasn’t even hiding.

  Peanut butter and honey, Emma says and she hands me a plate of sandwiches cut into triangles. This is fall honey so it’s a little bit spicy, she says, spring honey is sweeter.

  I take a bite and I’m glad because it’s not spicy to me.

  How’s school? she asks me.

  Teacher’s name is Ms. Lambert, I tell her.

  Oh, Emma says and smiles at me.

  So what do you think of your beloved Sinéad O’Connor? Cass asks.

  I know what Sinéad O’Connor did. She ripped up a picture of the pope’s face. The pope has a happy, old face with red cheeks.

  I’m growing my hair out, Emma says. It’s totally stupid. She doesn’t even know what she means. She just likes to stir shit up.

  Totally, Cass says. She shakes her head and then she says, So I ran into Mickey the other day at Tower Records.

  Cass and Emma laugh then.

  How’s the rest of the class of ’92? Emma asks.

  We’re fucking fantastic, says Cass. She’s trying not to laugh. How’re you?

  Proud to be a nongraduate, Emma says.

  Cass and Emma laugh some more. Then they stop and it’s quiet for a little bit. Cass sits up straighter and folds her hands together. She doesn’t eat any of the sandwiches.

  How’s your Dad? Emma asks.

  He’s skinny, Cass says, and he has a beard now.

  You know, Emma says, maybe you need to get away for a while. You could stay here as long as you want.

  We’ll see, Cass says. You know what’s funny? she asks. Guess what song was playing when my parents met?

  What? Emma asks.

  “Satisfaction,” Cass says and she laughs.

  I know what happened. At the place called Sandy’s Escape, Dad asked Mother to dance.

  Mother said, Okay, if you’ll hold my cigarettes.

  Dad put them in the chest pocket of his shirt and then they danced. I think the cigarettes were there to protect Dad’s heart. His heart is what fell in love with Mother.

  Can I go look at the maps? I ask Emma. I point under the table.

  Sure, she tells me.

  I lie down on my stomach and close my eyes. I listen to the quiet of the floor and the ground underneath until the quiet starts to hum. Then Cass’s voice goes away.

  I remember at the birthday party Katya took me to the paddle-boats on the lake.

  You is very scared? Katya asked me.

  The boat rocked when I got in so I sat down fast and held on. Katya stood up to show me she was not very scared. You can see how tall Katya is when she stands up. She’s tall because she’s a year older than everyone else in third grade. She came from Russia last December. Teacher says it’s our job to help her learn English. I’m a good helper. The other kids teach Katya to say things like buttface or shitcakes or I’m-too-sexy-for-my-shirt, but I don’t do that.

  Katya splashed water on me.

  Stop, I told her, please, Katya.

  I’m scared of lakes.

  Katya stopped. Katya is nice because she has nice eyes. They’re brownish yellow. I didn’t know eyes could have yellow in them, but now I know. Katya has perfect hands, too. They’re clean. In class, Katya keeps getting up to wash her hands and Teacher has to tell her to sit down. I like to watch Katya’s clean hands open the tin of candies she hides inside her desk. Katya is good at eating candy because she never bites into the pieces. She can suck on the candy until it looks like just a tiny crystal on her tongue. She opens her mouth and shows me.

  Katya steered the boat all the way down where we couldn’t see the birthday party anymore. I wanted to turn around.

  Katya, I said.

  She was not hearing me. We kept going all the way down to the wooden bridge and then we got stuck in the mud. I wanted to crawl out of the boat and climb up the mud to the bridge.

  Katya grabbed my arm and said, No.

  My heart beat louder and louder. In my ears I could hear my heart. Katya laughed and shook her head at me. I looked around. There was nobody to see us. I rocked back and forth to make the boat come loose, but nothing happened. Katya put her hands on my shoulders to make me be still, and there was so much time. It made me sick to my stomach how I could feel so much time, years and years. Katya put her face close. She put her mouth on my mouth and kissed.

  I fell back
ward and hit my head. I could see the sky and a bird. The bird was so high up that it looked like a frozen still, black dot. I blinked. The sun was white-hot and everything in my head got brighter like my head was filling up with light.

  The floor is cold and hard now. I pull myself up onto the yellow chair.

  Cass’s voice is saying, I’m just not going to worry about it. She looks at me and says, I don’t know why you’re so tired.

  I don’t say anything. I put my chin down on the table.

  Emma gets a book about bees from the bookshelf.

  See, Emma says, they’re kind of fuzzy and cute.

  Cass nods at the picture.

  Some breeders are using the killer bees now, Emma says. They kill the queens and take over.

  You have killer bees? Cass asks.

  Emma shakes her head, no. The baby points at the picture of the killer bee and giggles. She’s sitting in her high chair. When she giggles, juice spills out of her mouth and onto her shirt. She kicks her puffy red feet up in the air. Emma reaches over and squeezes the baby’s foot.

  Can I call Dad? I ask Cass.

  She pushes up her sleeve to look at her watch and then she turns to Emma.

  Can we use the phone? she asks.

  Sure, Emma says, it’s in there. She points to the room across the hall.

  You can go call, Cass says to me. Tell him we’re spending the night.

  I push back my chair and it scrapes on the floor.

  Careful, Sebby, Cass says.

  In the other room, there’s a black leather couch that smells new and a wooden table with an old-fashioned phone. Through two big glass doors, you can see outside to a patio with tall yellow flowers. I sit down on the couch and pick up the phone. I like it better in here because there’s carpet to rub my feet on. Cass yells at me from the kitchen. She says that from here you have to dial 1-6-1-7 first.

  I dial our whole phone number.

  We’re at Emma’s house, I tell Dad.

  Jesus Christ, he says.

  I’m staring at the painting on the wall. It’s of this white house and the farm all around it. The house looks small in the picture and the outside looks so big.

  Sebby, are you there? Dad asks.

  Uh-huh, I say. Cass says we’re spending the night.

  Are you all right? Dad asks me.

  I guess so, I say. I feel my eyes getting hot and watery. I close my eyes hard to make the tears go back inside. I’m moving my feet fast, back and forth on the carpet.

  Can you put Cass on the phone? he asks.

  Cass, I call for her.

  She comes and grabs the phone out of my hand. Emma comes, too.

  We have lots of movies, Emma says. You want to watch one?

  I don’t know, I say. My eyes are hurting. I rub them hard until I can see bright colors and shapes flashing.

  Sebby, Emma says. I open my eyes and it takes a second before the black goes away and I can see again.

  I’ll show you what we’ve got, she says.

  Emma opens one of the wooden cabinets and inside is a big TV.

  Here, she says. She pulls open a drawer full of movies.

  I pick out The Sound of Music and hand it to her.

  Okay, says Emma.

  I watch how she puts in the tape and pushes PLAY. It works the same way as our VCR at home.

  I like how the movie starts with the lady, Maria, singing, even though she’s all by herself. Sometimes I like to pretend a camera is watching me when I’m alone. I do things like stick out my tongue or say the words I’m thinking. The camera watches and listens.

  Do you want to sit? Emma asks me. She points to the couch behind me.

  Fine, Cass says and she hangs up the phone.

  Everything okay? asks Emma.

  Cass nods and points to the TV. Sebby’s in love with Julie Andrews, she tells Emma. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him that she’s a grandma now.

  Emma laughs.

  We’ve seen this movie, like, a million times, Cass says, forward and back.

  At the end, I used to have to watch the whole thing in slow rewind to the beginning. Maria and the children moved backward and undid all their singing and dancing. Then the movie was new again.

  Cass keeps talking and it’s hard to hear the TV, so I stand closer. I don’t like this part in the church with the nuns who have big heads. I go up to the VCR and push the arrow button to fast-forward.

  Emma’s baby laughs at nothing. She’s sitting down on the floor with her soft blocks.

  We’re going out back to see the bees, Cass says. You’ll be okay in here.

  The movie is at the part where the captain calls the kids with his whistle and then they all line up in a row. The kids look so nice together in their matching clothes. I think about how if I could be in the Von Trapp family I’d stand in Brigitta’s place, between Marta and Kurt.

  Howareyou, I think the baby says to the TV.

  What? I ask, but she ignores me.

  She puts a block in her mouth and chews on it.

  You’re weird, I tell her.

  She looks at me and the block falls out of her mouth. I watch her crawl over to the glass doors and then I follow. She puts her hand on the glass.

  Outside, a tiny black bird lands on the deck and holds still like a statue. I knock on the glass door to make it fly away. The bird flaps its wings and looks at me sideways with one eye. We stare at each other.

  It’s okay, I say to the baby. I grab her under the arms and pull her back, away from the bird. Then I pick her up. She’s warm and heavy. I hold her tight and take big, slow steps down the hall to the back of the house. I have to find the door to the backyard. The baby wiggles and I tell her to stop.

  I hold her with just one arm so I can pull open the screen door and then turn the doorknob. I do it fast and the baby slips down my side a little bit. The screen door bangs shut behind us.

  There’s a path that goes straight out and then down a hill. I can’t see where it ends.

  Cass! I yell. I hold still and wait for her to answer, but it’s quiet. In the sky, the moon is thin like a tiny cloud and not glowing yet. Soon, it will be night.

  I try to walk, but the path is gravelly and I don’t have my shoes and socks on. Tiny rocks stick in my feet and hurt. I have to go slow. The baby wiggles and kicks and starts to cry. She’s too heavy. I sit down with her on the dusty path. Her crying is so loud.

  You be quiet, I tell her. I try to pick the pieces of gravel out of my heels and then I’m crying, too. I think it’s the baby’s fault.

  She keeps crying loud. The wind blows the dust up all around us and it sticks to her wet, red cheeks. I feel bad for her.

  I’m sorry, I say and I hold her hand.

  Sebastian! Cass’s voice shouts. She looks like a tiny X all the way down the path. Cass and Emma run to us.

  Are you okay? Cass asks me.

  I nod. Cass is breathing hard. Her hair is all messy from the wind. She picks me up. Emma is holding the baby and wiping her dirty face.

  What happened? Cass asks. Her voice is fast and scared.

  I tell her there was a mean bird staring at me and the baby. I thought something bad was going to happen.

  A bird! Emma yells. Did you try to carry her out here?

  Emma’s looking at me. I don’t say anything. I put my head on Cass’s shoulder.

  He didn’t know, Cass says. He thought he was doing the right thing.

  I used to wake up in the middle of the night and wait for Mother to come and put me in my old stroller. I used to wake up and sometimes I heard her go without me.

  I wasn’t with her when she got hit by the car. There was a baby in her stomach and the baby died, too.

  Now I wake up in the quiet and the first thing I know is that Mother’s not here. I wake up and it scares me. Mother’s dead, I tell myself.

  I’m wearing clothes from yesterday. Next to me in the bed, Cass is breathing long, slow breaths. The room is gray-dark and shadowy
.

  Cass, I say, but not loud enough to wake her up. I poke her shoulder and she doesn’t move.

  Cass, I whisper. I try poking her shoulder harder, but nothing happens.

  I close my eyes. I know what to do. I just have to keep my eyes closed until I fall back to sleep again. I take long, slow breaths like Cass.

  The next time I wake up, the room is sunny. Cass will wake up soon and we’ll go. I’m not scared now. I just have to wait. There’s a tree shadow on the wall. I watch how the shadow branches move in the wind.

  I think of the “Bobby McGee” song and I can hear it in my head. The best part is the La da da da da part. It sounds kind of happy and sad and I know she’s thinking about secret things she can’t say, because I asked Mother and that’s what she told me. “Bobby McGee” used to be my favorite song with Cass. In the backseat of the green car, we listened to it on my orange and blue Fisher-Price tape player. I pushed REWIND and played it again and again. Cass sang all the words with me. We were driving to see Grandmother Bernie, because she was lonely in her big house. Mother and Dad were sitting in the front seat, listening to talking on the radio. Leo was leaning forward, trying to hear the news.

  Sebby, Cass says. She rolls onto her back. Hi, she says.

  Hi, I tell her.

  Cass is quiet and still again. Then she sits up. Her clothes are wrinkly.

  Is it time to go? I ask her.

  Soon, she says.

  Cass walks over to the big egg-shaped mirror by the door. She stands close and stares at her sleepy face. She touches the sharp bones under her cheeks and then moves her hand away. Her eyes look too big and the freckles on the tops of her cheeks are darker in the mirror.

  I’ll say bye to Emma, Cass says. You get ready to go.

  I sit on the end of the bed and swing my legs. I watch them and it’s like they’re moving all by themselves. In my head I count because counting is better than waiting.

  Okay, Cass says, let’s go. She’s standing in the hallway.

  I stop my legs and slide down off the bed. At the front door, we sit down to put on our shoes. Mine feel hard and stiff from getting so cold.

  I follow Cass out to the car.

  Why do you always have to walk behind me? she asks.