Skeleton Tree

by Kim Ventrella

  “Ms. Francine!” Stanly screamed again.

  Then he remembered that she couldn’t hear him because of the mower. Ice shot up Stanly’s spine and froze his insides.

  “Miren, wake up!” He shook her tiny shoulders, but her eyes didn’t open. “Ms. Francine!”

  Stanly didn’t know what else to do, so he stumbled into the kitchen and dialed 9-1-1.

  Stanly and Ms. Francine rode in the back of the ambulance while men in blue vests hooked Miren up to machines and pressed on her rib cage. Stanly squeezed Ms. Francine’s fingers so tight he thought they might break. But they didn’t, and Ms. Francine squeezed back even harder.

  Everything in the ambulance was shiny metal, buzzing machines, and hard white plastic. It made Stanly feel like he was traveling in a spaceship, and any minute they would crash into some frozen, uninhabitable planet.

  Wheels screeched as they pulled into the hospital. People in scrubs wheeled Miren down a hallway and into a room with flapping doors.

  “You have to stay outside,” a nurse said to Stanly.

  She pushed him in the chest so he wouldn’t follow, and that was how he ended up in a waiting room with too-bright lights and seats that smelled like rubbing alcohol. Ms. Francine sat down next to him and cupped a hand around his cheek. Her skin was so flaky and rough it felt like scales.

  Stanly blinked away the headache threatening to blossom behind his left eye. Ms. Francine took back her hand and pulled the silver locket out from under her blouse. The one she always wore. She unclasped the heart with bent fingers and showed Stanly the pictures inside.

  “You and your dad,” Stanly said, remembering the last time she’d shown him. “Did he really die playing chess … like you said?” He could hardly speak for fear of being sick.

  “That is true.” She rubbed a finger over the edge of the locket. “And you know what? Believe it or not, he was happy when he went. I was little, so I didn’t know that death always had to be sad and terrible and something to fight against. I watched Papa’s face the moment the light went out of it. And do you know what he did?” Stanly shook his head. “He smiled.”

  “And who was playing chess with him?” Stanly asked. He couldn’t understand it, but he thought he knew the answer, and it made his eyeball throb.

  “This one and that one.”

  “No, tell me.” The words came out sharp, like their jagged edges might cut anyone who heard them.

  Ms. Francine didn’t seem to notice. “Love is a funny thing. Sometimes it is long and slow and rolling. A lazy river of love. Other times, it’s over so fast you blink and you might miss it. Both things are love, Stanly. Don’t forget that.”

  “It was him, wasn’t it?” Stanly balled his fists in his lap. “The skeleton? He was the one your dad was playing when he died.”

  Ms. Francine snapped the locket shut and dropped it down inside her blouse. “Let’s go call Momma,” she said. “She’ll be worried sick. A mother always knows when something has happened to her little one.”

  They met Mom at the emergency entrance. She hugged Stanly so tight he couldn’t breathe. Ms. Francine tried to lead Mom down the hall to the waiting room, but Mom insisted on talking to the doctors, the nurses, anyone who would listen.

  Go, Mom!

  “We’ll let you know as soon as we hear something. She’s in a critical state right now, Ms. Stanwright. The best thing you can do, the only thing you can do, is wait. Do you understand? You have to wait.” The nurse helped Mom into a chair in the waiting room, where she looked up at Stanly and Ms. Francine with uncomprehending eyes. “Why is this happening?”

  She pulled Stanly into the chair next to her and cried into his hair. Stanly wrapped his arms around her and he cried, too, just a little.

  “I’m so sorry, Stanly,” she said once she’d soaked Stanly’s hair with her tears. “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday, not any of it. I love you, you know that, right?”

  Stanly nodded, but his throat hurt too much to say anything.

  “You are a good momma,” Ms. Francine said. She sat across from Mom, their knees touching.

  “And I’m sorry about what I said to you, Belka. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “It’s okay.” Ms. Francine swatted the air. “I have thick skin. Everyone in Kyrgyzstan is like this. You live through seven months of winter with no heat and only a wool blanket to keep you warm, you would have thick skin, too.”

  The tip of Mom’s mouth tilted up, and then a doctor in a white coat came around the corner. “Ms. Stanwright?”

  “Yes, I’m Ms. Stanwright.” Mom stood up, and so did Stanly. “Is she okay?”

  “Your daughter is breathing normally, but we need to keep her for observation. We’re not sure why her lungs keep filling with fluid, but we think—”

  “When can I see her?” Mom interrupted.

  “Right now, but I do need to talk with you about your daughter’s condition.”

  “After I see her.”

  “I understand. Follow me.”

  Miren had been moved to a room in another wing. The room had cheery pink wallpaper and sheets covered in teddy bears. But that didn’t fool Stanly. He saw the machines and the tubes hooked to Miren’s wrist.

  A mask covered her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered when Mom said her name, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  “She won’t wake up tonight,” the doctor said, “if the medicine does its job.”

  Mom brushed the hair from Miren’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered, and she bent down to kiss her earlobe.

  “When you’re ready, Ms. Stanwright, we can discuss Miren’s medical needs.”

  “In the hallway, I don’t want … Let’s just go out into the hallway.”

  Stanly started to follow, but Ms. Francine held him back. “Your momma needs to do this alone. She wants to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection. I need to help. Miren’s my responsibility, too.”

  “I know, you’re an old man, am I right? Many responsibilities. But your momma wants to feel like she can still be your momma. You see what I mean?”

  “I guess.” Stanly sat down in the chair next to Miren’s bed and put his hand on her arm. Her skin felt cold and damp, like she’d been playing outside in the rain.

  Mom came back into the room a few minutes later. She forced a smile onto her face when she saw Stanly. He could tell it was forced, because her eyes looked red like she’d been crying again.

  “What did the doctor say?” said Ms. Francine.

  She shook her head and her smile crumpled. “They don’t know.”

  “You can tell me, Mom. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  “Of course you’re not.” She kneeled beside Stanly and took his hands in hers. “I promise I would tell you if they knew anything, but they don’t. It’s serious, that’s all the doctor would say, but they haven’t been able to determine what’s causing it.”

  She buried her head in Stanly’s side, and a rock dropped down into the pit of his stomach. Mom and the doctors might not know what was making Miren sick, but Stanly did.

  Ms. Francine brought up dinner from the hospital cafeteria. They ate boiled chicken and mashed potatoes, machines whirring in the background. Ms. Francine wanted to stay the night, but Mom insisted on driving her home.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Mom said.

  “I want to stay with Miren,” Stanly said.

  “You’re a good big brother.”

  Really, he needed to stay to make sure Princy didn’t come back, but he didn’t say that to Mom. After she was gone, Stanly curled up in the cushy chair next to Miren’s bed and read her stories from the only book he had, Pigmen Attack! A PixelBlock Adventure.

  “And then,” Stanly yawned, “Phil mined enough diamond ore to forge a diamond sword. He waited for night to fall. This time, when the zombies came, he would be ready.”

  Stanly blinked. He was determined to stay awake. He wished he had a diamo
nd sword, like Phil, the hero of PixelBlock. Then, the next time Princy showed his face, that skeleton wouldn’t stand a chance. He thought about calling Dad on the hospital phone, but he wouldn’t be able to do anything tonight anyway. Not when he was fifteen hundred miles away. No, this stakeout was Stanly’s responsibility.

  He kept reading. A few minutes later, the words went streaky at the edges. He blinked. He wasn’t going to fall asleep. No way. Not when he had to … protect … Miren.

  The next thing Stanly knew, he woke to the sound of rattling bones. He shot up in his chair, hitting his head on the edge of a table.

  “Agh!” He staggered to his feet and searched the room. Someone had turned out the lights, and Mom still wasn’t back from dropping off Ms. Francine. “Show your face, you stupid skeleton!”

  Something squeaked in the bathroom behind him. Light peeked under the door.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  He picked up an empty vase from the table and crept to the side of the door. He flattened himself against the wall, so Princy wouldn’t see him until it was too late.

  The door opened. Stanly got ready to crash the vase down on Princy’s stupid bones.

  “Stanly, oh my god, you scared me to death. Why are you holding a vase?”

  Mom stepped out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a paper towel.

  “I … ” He wiped the sleep from his eyes. “I thought I heard someone.”

  “Sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were sleeping when I came in. You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you.” She kissed him on the forehead. “I shouldn’t have let you stay by yourself. I’m so sorry, but I haven’t been thinking straight lately, not with everything going on.”

  “No, Mom, I was fine. I just thought I heard someone else, that’s all.”

  She looked in Stanly’s eyes for a long time, biting her lower lip. He thought she was going to say more mushy I love you stuff, but instead she asked him to help her lay out the sleeping bags and blankets she’d brought from home.

  When they were done, Stanly crawled into his sleeping bag. So many questions buzzed around his head, but he didn’t know how to ask any of them. He tried to close his eyes, but now that Mom was back, he couldn’t sleep.

  “Mom, do you think we can get flowers for Miren tomorrow? So the vase won’t be empty.”

  “Sure, baby. But the doctor says we should be going home in the morning. They just wanted to monitor her overnight.”

  Silence stretched between them, filled only by machine noises.

  “Is Miren going to die?” Stanly said.

  He said it so quietly, and Mom took so long to answer, he wasn’t sure she’d even heard.

  “No,” she said finally. “She’s going to be okay, baby. I promise.”

  A sticky hand slapped Stanly awake the next morning.

  “Look, Stanly, I got sticky hands. Just like at Dr. Cynthia’s.”

  Miren wielded two sticky hands like nunchucks. They smacked Stanly in the nose and mouth and ear. He should have been mad, but he was so happy to see her feeling better, he couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Miren, pack up your toys. It’s time to go,” Mom said.

  “Oookay.”

  Miren stopped her assault and stuffed her new toys into a hospital gift bag.

  “When did you get all of those?” Stanly said, picking crust from his eyes.

  “Mom took me to the shop while you were sleeping. Sleepyhead!”

  Miren made up a sleepyhead song about Stanly, and she sung it on the way downstairs and most of the ride home. They stopped at McDonald’s to get egg-and-cheese sandwiches.

  “And ice cream!” Miren said.

  “Just this once.”

  Mom ordered Miren a chocolate sundae, and Stanly got a Butterfinger McFlurry. Mom’s phone buzzed the whole drive home, but she ignored it.

  “You should answer it,” Stanly said. “It might be Dad.”

  Mom just shook her head.

  Ms. Francine greeted them at the front door with a pot of tea and a plate of warm cookies.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Mom said.

  Her phone buzzed again in her pocket.

  “Go on, talk to your phone already. I’ll make sure the little ones eat plenty of cookies.”

  “Yay!” Miren fist-pumped the air, just like always.

  Stanly helped Miren into her favorite chair at the dining table, the one with the Stripy Pony sticker on the seat.

  “Cookies and ice cream! I should go to the hospital more often. Right Stanly?”

  Stanly didn’t answer. Miren dumped her bag of toys onto the table and started swatting place mats with her two sticky hands.

  Mom came back into the kitchen, her jaw muscles tense. Stanly could always tell when she was worried about something, because her jawbones stuck out in front of her ears.

  “I have to go in to work,” Mom said.

  “Was it Dad on the phone?”

  “Look, Mom, sticky hand is eating cookies. Yum, yum.” Miren crumbled up a cookie with a sticky hand. Pieces of it stuck to the goo and others fell to the floor around Miren’s feet.

  “Try to keep your cookies on the table.” Mom sighed. She kissed Miren’s head and turned to Ms. Francine. “I’m really sorry, but the general manager is in today, and he’s been trying to get in touch with me. I just need to go in for a few minutes and tell him I have to take some time off.”

  “We’re good here, go, go. Don’t worry about us. We will have some nice hot borsch waiting when Momma comes home, right, little ones?”

  Stanly and Miren groaned.

  Ms. Francine clucked her tongue. “You go now, Momma. We’ll try not to have too much fun without you. And no more big adventures.”

  Mom left for work. Stanly felt stupid for thinking it might have been Dad on the phone. When Miren was finished smearing her cookies all over the table, Stanly helped Ms. Francine clean up.

  “No school today, then?” said Ms. Francine.

  “I need to look after Miren.”

  “What do your teachers say about this?”

  Stanly shrugged.

  Miren went to her room to watch an episode of Stripy Pony: Ponies in Ponytown. Stanly checked under her bed and inside her closet to make sure Princy wasn’t hiding anywhere, but there was no sign of him.

  Stanly sat at the dining room table and did his homework. He wanted to go check on his entry for the Young Discoverer’s Prize, but Ms. Francine wouldn’t stop pestering him. While he worked, Ms. Francine called someone from the phone book to come and mow the front yard. She was probably scared to do it herself after everything that had happened. Maybe she didn’t trust Stanly to take care of Miren by himself.

  “You did a good job yesterday,” she said, reading his thoughts. “Calling 9-1-1. Who taught you to do this?”

  “I don’t know, school, I guess.”

  “Ah, so this school is not so bad, then?”

  “It’s okay. I just want to stay home with Miren. She needs me.”

  “You’re a good boy,” Ms. Francine said. “When you finish this page, you can go do your game or whatever boys do nowadays.”

  “Thanks!”

  Stanly hurried through the last few problems. When he was done, he went to check on Miren. She’d fallen asleep on the floor, on top of her Stripy Pony comforter. When he was sure she was safe, he hurried to his room and pulled up the page for the Young Discoverer’s Prize. His entry had almost two thousand likes, and there was a new message on the home page about the contest.

  “So far, our judges are highly impressed with the quality of this year’s discoveries. Due to the large number of entries, it may take longer than usual for the winner to be announced. Be patient, and remember to check back soon for more updates.”

  Great.

  Stanly closed the page and opened up a new email to his dad.

  “Dad, Miren is really sick. She … ” Stanly stopped and deleted the last word. “We need you to co
me and help. I’m not sure we can get through this without you.”

  Before he had time to think about it, he pushed send.

  His lips felt numb as he shoved headphones into his ears and logged on to Skatepark Zombie Death Bash. He killed an entire horde of zombie golfers and a circus full of zombie clowns. He smashed zombie after zombie, his teeth digging into his lip. Why did he get so nervous emailing his dad? It wasn’t like he was some stranger. Except, after the past ten months, he kind of was.

  And maybe emailing him wasn’t the scary part. It was the thought of what it would mean if Dad didn’t email him back.

  He destroyed three more zombie villages before he got tired of raiding and went to find Ms. Francine in the kitchen, chopping cabbage.

  “Ah, my helper. Good, go and peel these beets. Be careful with the peeler, it’s sharp. Wouldn’t want Momma to find any missing fingers.”

  Stanly rolled his eyes, but he took the peeler anyway and attacked the beets. Ms. Francine turned on some music in a language Stanly didn’t understand. He thought it might be Russian.

  When he was done with all of the beets, he scraped the shavings into the trash can and washed the red stains from his fingers.

  “I’m going to check on Miren,” Stanly said.

  “What?” Ms. Francine said. “I can’t hear so well over the music.”

  He pointed toward the hall.

  “Okay, yes, you go. Play your game. Thank you for the help, little Stanly.”

  Stanly went down the hall to Miren’s room. As he got closer, he could hear that she was giggling. The music was so loud he hadn’t noticed it before. His stomach twisted. He looked around for some kind of weapon, but he didn’t see anything.

  “Do it again,” Miren said.

  Stanly ran into her room. He didn’t need a weapon; he could take Princy on bare-handed. Stupid, wimpy skeleton.

  Princy whirled a rubber ball atop his finger.

  “Faster, faster!” Miren jumped up and down on her bed, the oxygen tank bouncing right along with her.

  “Stop that!” Stanly shouted. “You get away from her!”

  He shoved Princy into the wall. Bones cracked. Miren stopped bouncing and her mouth dropped open.