Chapter 39 ~ Being the Story
September 10, 2010
When I started reading the third page, he closed his eyes.
By the time I was on page four, he was nodding when I got to the end of a paragraph.
By the seventh page, it was rapture.
I looked up at him every so often over the top of the book. Careful not to move my head so I didn’t break his trance.
I got to the end of the story.
And there was silence for a short while.
* * *
Finally, after what felt like minutes but was actually moments, his eyes flickered open.
His shining spectacles; reflected Manhattan skyline.
“Very good, Kenny,” he said, “really. Very good.”
I sat and said nothing, just stared at the table. My mind idled over the story; already forgetting bits of it. I took a drink from the glass of milk that sat by the book.
“You’re quite the reader, young man. Quite the reader. Do you read a lot?”
I didn’t say anything in response.
“Maybe with your parents?”
I shook my head.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, that seems a little odd. Your characterization, your pacing… I thought you must do a lot of reading.”
I shook my head again, feeling the weight of the truth just behind my eyes.
Norris stared at me.
I had forgotten the story.
“They don’t listen,” I said, “they don’t ever listen to me.”
Sipped my milk.
Stared at the reflection in his spectacles.
* * *
Eventually, I flicked to the next story in the book and began reading.
And lost myself in images that got drawn between the words. I was the cowboy, I was the wizard, I was the caring mother, I was God. All of the them. All at once and whenever I walked on the page. I was all these things that I had never been.
Because if I hadn’t, then I would have had to have been me. And I couldn’t be me.
I couldn’t.
There was too much beneath the surface of this pond.
Too much.
Too deep.
Dark things swam in the depths.
* * *
At the end of the story, Norris congratulated me again.
“Amazing,” he said.
I had forgotten the story.
Staring into the abyss once more.
* * *
“Come on up,” Ivvy said.
The door buzzed and I pushed it open.
“Come on, Bella,” I said, reaching for her hand, “we’re going to see Ivvy again.”
“Ivvy?” Bella said and I couldn’t remember whether I’d told her Ivvy’s name earlier on. They’d certainly played together.
Do kids remember names, anyway? I thought.
We walked up the stairs. At the third flight, Bella stopped.
“I tired,” she said, dropping the shopping bag she was carrying.
“It’s only a couple of flights, c’mon,” I smiled at her.
“Nooooo…” she wailed comically, “I tired!”
And she just sat down.
I was left there, standing at the top of the flight, weighed down with bags full of my clothes and the small amount of stuff I’d bought for Bella, two flights of stairs still to go and a recalcitrant toddler who refused to move another step.
I looked up, looked down, looked at Bella, looked back up the centre of the stairwell.
“Bella,” I hissed but, if she heard me, she didn’t acknowledge me in any way.
“Bella.”
Still, no response.
I looked up, looked down, looked at Bella, looked back up the centre of the stairwell.
Caught in a loop.
Ensnared by the child.
I sat down next to her.
Getting angry. All of a sudden. Really angry.
Child missing in New Jersey, mother dead
And Bella wasn’t moving.
“Come on, Bella, it’s only a few more steps.”
She shook her head.
“Tired.”
I looked up, looked down, looked at the back of my eyelids while I tried to get some peace, some sense of calm enough to deal with the situation.
There’d been no other coverage on the news. Just that ticker along the bottom of the screen.
Had it been referring to Bella’s mother or some other kid? I didn’t know. They hadn’t added any flesh to those skeletal words.
Child missing in New Jersey, mother dead
It had been enough to get me out of the apartment as quickly as I’d been able to pack.
And there I was, stuck on the stairs, two flights below the only person I could turn to, the only person with whom I had any form of relationship, any form of trust.
Ivvy.
My only friend.
Who happened to be a cop.
Police hunt for father
“Ivvy!” I yelled up the stairwell, “Ivvy!”
No sound, no response at the top of the stairs.
“IVVY!”
After a few moments, her head appeared over the banister, floating up there like a balloon.
“What?” she shouted down.
I looked up at her. Smiled as best I was able with the anger that was bubbling up inside me.
“Can you give me a hand?” I asked, “only Bella can’t walk any more and I’ve got to carry all these bags.”
Ivvy shook her head.
“What?”
“I can’t.”
My teeth were hurting where I’d clenched them together too hard.
My hair hurt, deep in the roots, my hair hurt.
“Why not?”
She leaned a little further out over the banister; topless.
“I was in the shower,” she said, anger in her voice now.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, fucking-oh,” she was hissing again, almost snarling.
I glanced quickly at Bella to check whether she was listening but she was as non-cooperative as ever. If she’d heard Ivvy, there was no sign.
“Leave the bags down there and bring Bella up,” Ivvy shouted, her head disappearing from sight, “I’ll leave the door open.”
And she was gone.
I put the bags to one side and then bent to scoop Bella up in my arms.
As I did so, she turned into my neck and snuggled tight.
And all of the tension flushed out of me.
She smelled good. Like soap. Like clean clothes.
I hugged her tight to me and just for that moment, in the dust motes and filtered sunlight of the stairwell, there was peace on Earth.
“C’mon, Bella” I whispered into her hair, “let’s go see Ivvy.”
I started up the stairs, Bella a half-ton weight in my arms.
“Ivvy,” Bella laughed over my shoulder, “OK.”
