by Pete Hautman
Another circuit through the west wing, past the Gap, Godiva Chocolatier, Aeropostale, Starbucks . . . He spotted a quarter on the floor and scooped it up. With the change from his pizza purchase he had ninety-four cents. Was there anything he could buy for that in the food court? If he bought something, maybe the cop would let him sit at the table again.
The mall cop was still in the food court, chatting with a girl working at Cinnabon. Stuey looked over the menu boards. The least expensive thing he could find was a small soft drink for ninety-nine cents, a buck seven with tax. He wandered back through the mall, keeping his eyes on the floor for loose bits of change. A nickel in front of the refrigerator magnet shop. Three pennies under the tables in the atrium. A dime next to a potted palm tree.
He counted his stash. One dollar and twelve cents. He started back toward the food court, then stopped, confused. Somehow he had wandered into an unfamiliar part of the mall. That was odd. He knew the entire mall inside and out. But he was standing in front of a shop he’d never seen before called Dollyworld. The display window was full of oversize dolls. An older woman was adjusting the jumper of a four-foot-tall rag doll set up just outside the shop doors.
“Excuse me,” Stuey said. “How long has this store been here?”
The woman smiled and tipped her head. “We’ve always been here,” she said. “At least since the mall opened.”
“Oh. I never noticed it before.”
“Do you like dolls?”
“Um, not really.” Stuey looked up and down the corridor. “Which way is the food court?”
“Food court?” She laughed. “I suppose you could call it that.” She pointed to her right. “It’s not as if you could get lost in here!”
“Thanks,” Stuey said, and set off. He walked past three more stores he’d never seen before: a place that sold cell phones, a women’s shoe store, and a jeweler. The mall seemed miniature, with narrower corridors and a lower ceiling than he remembered. The corridor ended in an area with a few tables and chairs, a Subway sandwich shop, and a Dairy Queen. Another, smaller food court? Since when?
One side of the food court was all windows looking out on a patio with two picnic tables. On the other side of the patio was a strip of grass, and beyond that a lake.
But there was no lake anywhere near Westdale Mall, just a little pond. Was he dreaming? Had he sleepwalked to some other mall miles away? His heart was pounding.
“Better close your mouth, kid, or you’re gonna catch a fly in there.”
Stuey whirled. The man who had spoken was sitting at one of the tables eating a vanilla cone. He looked eerily familiar.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the man said, and Stuey suddenly recognized him. It was the Mushroom Man — Greg Eagen — but he was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, and he had shaved off his beard.
The man took a lick of his cone, then frowned and asked, “You okay, kid?”
“My name’s not kid. It’s Stuey.”
“Is that a fact? Nice to meet you, Stuey.”
“You don’t remember me?”
The man shook his head.
“You saved me when I got stuck in the deadfall.”
“Deadfall? Sorry.” Clearly, he didn’t remember Stuey at all.
“You’re the mushroom guy, right?”
“How do you know I’m interested in mushrooms?”
“Because —” Stuey looked past him, out the windows at the lake, and saw something that made him stop breathing. The Mushroom Man started to say something but Stuey was running out the doors. He ran across the patio and the grass to the edge of the lake.
Out in the middle of the lake, a dark-haired girl in a red kayak was paddling toward him.
Elly let the kayak drift the last few yards to the shore. Neither of them spoke. He reached down and grabbed the front of the kayak and pulled it up onto the grass.
“Well,” she said, “I’m here.” She looked scared.
Stuey nodded.
“In your world,” she said.
“No.”
“No?”
“This is a different world,” he said. “This isn’t the right mall — it’s like a mini-mall. And we don’t have a lake like this, just a pond.”
“We don’t have any mall at all,” Elly said. She climbed out of the kayak. “And my lake is bigger.”
They looked at each other.
“Then where are we?” Stuey asked.
Elly thought for a moment, then said, “Someplace different. But this building — I feel like I’ve seen it before.” She looked out across the lake. “There are more woods.” She pointed. “You can see where the fairy circle is. It’s above water now.”
“Did you get the notebook? Did you read it?”
Elly nodded.
“Did you see my mom?”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?”
Elly hesitated, then said, “No.”
“I’m sure she’ll be okay once she sees you,” Elly said.
They were walking through the woods along the north side of the lake. Elly had been telling Stuey about his mom — how her place was falling apart and how she’d turned into some sort of hermit. Stuey kept walking faster. Elly had to run to catch up. At the top of the oak knoll she grabbed his arm.
“Stuey, wait!”
He stopped.
“We’ll get there,” Elly said.
Stuey closed his eyes and nodded shakily. He looked around, seeming to realize where he was for the first time.
“They cut this hill in half and put a fence up,” he said. “From here to the other side is all parking lots and stores. I mean, it was.”
“Maybe it still is. In the other world.”
“You mean there’s still a world with me in it, and a different world with just you?”
“Unless we stuck them back together.”
“But if we didn’t, does that mean that there’s still a place with just you, and another place with just me?”
“Maybe we both disappeared from both places,” Elly said.
“But there are two Alisons, and two Hecks, and two Deshans, right? And two of my mom. So maybe there’s more than one of us. Maybe it’s like my grandpa said: an infinity of realities.”
“That makes my brain hurt.”
They descended the knoll and soon came to the fairy circle. It had grown smaller — the poplars were marching in on the creepy bent.
“I’m scared,” Stuey said. “What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she isn’t even there? What if she’s moved away? Or dead or something?”
“I’m scared too. You said my parents were going to move away.”
“They did move. To Atlanta.”
“No!”
“But everything is different here. I bet they’re still here. We can go see them next.”
They crossed the meadow and entered the orchard. The grass had been cut. The apple trees stood out in neat rows.
“This morning this was all overgrown.” Elly pointed through the trees at the house. “Look! It’s painted white! It was gray before, right?”
Stuey wasn’t looking at the house. He was staring at something that sent a shiver up his spine. He took a step. His legs went weak and he dropped to his knees.
“Stuey?” Elly grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”
Stuey pointed a shaking finger.
Where Gramps’s grave had been, there were two headstones.
Elly helped him up. Stuey managed to move forward, each step slower than the last. After what felt like an eternity, they reached the pair of headstones. Stuey tried to read what was carved on them, but he couldn’t make sense of the letters.
“It’s not your mom,” Elly said.
The words swam into focus. The stone on the left read:
ZACHARY JOHN FORD
1934 – 2014
He forced himself to read the name on the other gravestone.
STUART GILES FORD
1905 – 1951
“It’s my great-grandfather.” He couldn’t stop staring at the headstone. “But what’s he doing here?”
“Isn’t this your family graveyard?”
“Yeah, but before there was just Gramps.”
“Really?” Elly looked puzzled. “I thought there were always two gravestones.”
“You did? But . . .” The funny thing was, as soon as she said it, Stuey remembered two gravestones too. Except, at the same time, he remembered there had been only one.
“Your yard looks nice. I thought it was all overgrown . . .” Elly looked toward the house. “I don’t know why I thought your house used to be gray. It was always white, wasn’t it?”
“I think we painted it white after Gramps died, but . . . it’s like I remember it both ways.”
“Your mom’s car was different.”
The car parked in the driveway was a little red hybrid, shiny and new.
“It had two flat tires,” she said. “It was blue.”
“We used to have a blue car,” Stuey said. “Mom must’ve got a new one.” As soon as he spoke those words he remembered her buying the red Prius last year. “I think I’m remembering things I didn’t remember before.”
“Me too. Like, I remember a world where you were gone. But I remember this world too, just like we were always here.”
“Maybe we were always here.”
“There’s your mom.”
Stuey’s mom was coming around the corner from the front yard. Stuey started toward her, walking at first, then running. She looked up, startled, and caught him as he threw himself into her arms.
“Whoa!” she said. She held him at arm’s length. “What was that for?”
“I’m just glad to see you’re okay,” Stuey said.
“Of course I’m okay!” She looked past him. “Hey, Elly Rose. I thought you’d be coming with your mom.”
“My mom?” Elly looked confused, then her expression cleared and she said, “Oh. Yeah. I decided to kayak over to the mall.”
“That silly little mall.” Stuey’s mom shook her head. “I don’t know why you kids spend so much time there.” She sighed. “I guess a few shops is better than that megamonstrosity they were threatening to build.” A car turned into the driveway. “Here’s your mom now.”
The car pulled up next to the house. Mrs. Frankel got out.
“I see my kayak girl made it on time,” she said with a red-lipsticked smile.
Elly ran to her and hugged her, just like Stuey had with his mom.
Stuey asked, “Mom, when did great-grandpa Stuart get his own gravestone?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t remember?”
“I was trying to remember if it was before or after Gramps died.”
“It was right after Daddy passed. Remember we found his notebook?”
Memories swirled and collided in Stuey’s head, and suddenly he did remember. “Oh. Yeah. It was kind of a big deal. There were reporters and stuff.”
“Such a terrible thing, but at the same time it was a relief to finally know the truth. It took the police a week to find them under that big pile of dead trees. When we were finally able to claim my grandfather’s remains, we buried him right next to Grandpa Zach. The Frankels buried Maddy’s grandfather at Westlawn Cemetery.”
“Was she mad at us?” Stuey asked.
“Maddy? Not at all. She was relieved to know the truth about what happened.” She looked over at Elly and her mother, and she smiled. “Our grandfathers were mortal enemies, and yet Maddy and I have become the best of friends.”
Elly and her mom were coming toward them. Mrs. Frankel was carrying two round plastic containers.
“What do you have there, Maddy?” Stuey’s mom asked.
“Pies. Our cherries ripened early this year.”
“Mom makes the best cherry pie,” Elly said.
“Nothing but the best for my birthday girl!”
Stuey had completely forgotten it was his and Elly’s birthday.
“Come on inside, Maddy,” Stuey’s mom said. “I could use a hand with the salads. The others will be here soon.” The two women headed into the house.
Stuey and Elly looked at each other.
“Others?” Stuey said.
Elly pointed toward the front yard, where there was a grill, two coolers, and a long picnic table topped with covered bowls, paper plates, and plastic glasses. “I think we’re having a birthday party.”
“Oh. Yeah. I remember now.”
“You do?”
“Our moms have been planning this for weeks.”
“Everything’s changing,” Elly said.
“I know! Our moms are friends now.”
“Your mom seems good.”
“She was really upset when they tore down the whole woods . . . except they didn’t! There’s plenty of woods left, and we have a lake.”
“I thought the lake was bigger. I thought you were gone.”
“There was a giant ugly mall, and you were gone too.” Even as he spoke, his memory of the gigantic mall became fuzzy and indistinct. “Are we forgetting old stuff, or remembering new stuff?”
“I don’t know.”
Another car turned into the driveway. “That’s my dad,” Elly said, waving.
A minute later, Heck rode in on his BMX. He skidded to a stop in front of Stuey and said, “Is Deshan coming?”
“I don’t know,” Stuey said, then remembered inviting him. “I think so.”
“Cool. Where’s the grindage?” Grindage was Heck’s word for food.
Stuey pointed toward the picnic table.
Heck dumped his bike on the lawn. A moment later he was tearing into a bag of chips.
“He likes to eat,” Stuey observed.
“No kidding,” Elly said. “Here comes Jenny.” Jenny Garner’s mom was dropping her off at the end of the driveway. “I think I was mad at her, but now I can’t remember why.”
“Maybe that’s good. I think I’m forgetting some bad stuff too.”
Elly nodded thoughtfully. “You told me something about a gigantic mall.”
“I remember telling you that, but when I try to remember the mall it gets all fuzzy. I remember these huge buildings, and then I see the little strip mall and the big buildings sort of fade away, like remembering a dream. Was I telling you a dream?”
“I don’t know. Hey, who’s that?”
Another car had pulled in. A tall man and a kid with long black hair got out and walked toward them. They looked familiar, but Stuey couldn’t place them. The man was smiling; the kid looked nervous.
“Are you Stuey?” the man asked.
Stuey nodded.
The kid was staring at him through strands of hair. He stuck out his hand.
“Hey,” he said.
Stuey shook his hand. “Er . . . hey?”
“You don’t remember me?” The kid smiled shyly. “I’m Jack. Jack Kopishke.”
Fifteen people showed up for the party. The biggest surprise was Jack, Stuey’s best friend from when he was seven years old. Stuey’s mom had arranged to have Jack’s dad drive him up from Des Moines just for the party. It had been six years. It was great to see him again, but they didn’t talk long — all Jack wanted to talk about was World of Warcraft. Stuey introduced him to Heck, who was also a hard-core gamer, and those two got along great.
It was a good party. There was one kid Stuey didn’t recognize at first, but as soon as he started talking to him, he realized it was Danny Lee, who had moved in two houses down a year ago after the Kimballs left the neighborhood. How had he forgotten Danny? They were good friends.
There were lots of presents — mostly gift cards. Jack Kopishke gave him a Black Ops baseball cap. Elly got a friendship bracelet from Jenny Garner. Mr. Frankel cooked burgers and bratwursts. There was fruit salad, his mom’s vegetarian baked beans, a monstrous tray of nachos brought by Danny Lee’s mother, and all sorts of junk fo
od.
And, of course, cherry pie.
While Mrs. Frankel was serving wedges of pie, Elly caught Stuey’s eye and jerked her head toward the back door. They slipped out through the mudroom and took their pie out to the orchard and sat on the grass in front of the gravestones.
“I can’t believe I forgot there were two graves,” Stuey said.
“We forgot forks,” Elly said.
It sounded like something she had said before, but Stuey couldn’t remember when.
“I feel like we’ve done this,” Elly said.
“We have?” Stuey thought back. It was an effort, as if he had to force his way through a forest of memories. “We were in a place.”
“Was it a castle?”
“I barely remember it.”
Elly grabbed his hands. “We can’t forget!”
“Gramps once told me that there are different realities, but we can only know the one we’re in.”
“Remember the time you hit your head falling off the swing?”
Memories flickered, faded, solidified. “I crashed my bike.”
“Oh.” Elly blinked confusedly. “I thought I remembered a swing . . . no, you’re right. You were on your bike. I gave you a compass.”
“You did?”
“It’s around your neck!”
Stuey felt his neck. There was a chain. He pulled it out. Attached to the chain was a smooth red stone with a hole in it.
“You gave me this,” he said.
“Oh!” She laughed. “Of course! I gave it to you the day you fell off your bike. I thought it was like a magic amulet or something. I can’t believe you still have it.”
Stuey rubbed the stone between his fingers, feeling the familiar, comforting smoothness of it. “I suppose if we forget stuff we’ll never know we forgot it, because we won’t remember.” He looked down at his slice of pie on its paper plate. “How are we going to eat this?”
Elly picked up her slice with both hands and shoved the pointed end in her mouth. Stuey did the same. His teeth sank into the cherry filling and his mouth exploded with flavors. It was perfectly sweet, perfectly tart, and the flaky, buttery crust was the best he’d ever had. He swallowed and said, “Wow!”
Elly grinned and licked a glob of cherry from the corner of her mouth. “My mom makes the best cherry pie.”