Tuesday May 5, 2015
It was just after 8 a.m. Alyssa had been up and about, already, for a while. The kitchen was a bit fuller than it was a day ago. The barnyard theme, which Peter had caught on to very quickly, was not an easy one to pull off in a charming fashion. She wanted a fictional barnyard, as in a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon. Not a real one, as in hay and dung. The distinction between the two was not hard to grasp, but Peter worried that Alyssa might lose sight of what a kitchen was for. Eating, mainly. He made her promise to not bring in anything that had a working engine without lots of prior discussion. She'd agreed.
She wondered, though, if a small, vintage tractor engine might not be too big to serve as an island. It wouldn’t be a working engine, of course, and it would be polished to a sheen. Just something she could dress up. Whatever she would decide to do, it was the doing that made her happy. After working some more on her kitchen, she made a breakfast of egg whites, toast, and chocolate milk, which she’d eaten at their new barn door kitchen table. Which, of course, had to be made from a real barn door and painted barn door red. The plank table hadn’t worked out. Not that it bothered Rose. Rose couldn’t have been happier to accommodate her.
The minute she’d awoken this morning she had decided to forget about THE PIPER AND THE WATCHING WOODS. That had all been very interesting, but what did it have to do with Peter? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, whatsoever. They hadn’t even spoken of it since she’d shown him the picture evidence on her phone. It was a coincidence, and she’d made too much of it. It doesn’t explain a damn thing about what we're going through. What does some thousand-year-old children’s book author have to do with Peter’s hallucinations? She was just distracting herself pursuing that. It wasn’t going to lead to any solution to their problem.
Alyssa’s barnyard needed animals, but she didn’t want it filled up with little porcelain figurines or whatnot. Not with Peter’s dumb elbows knocking everything over. She hadn’t drawn anything since she was a teenager doodling in her class notes, but she’d been really good, back then. I’ll just draw a few ducks and pigs first, and if they don’t look right, I’ll just paint them over. She didn’t have any paint supplies, though, so she would have to drop into Sparkle. Going there always cheered her up, anyway. She was making a lot of friends in town, becoming a regular at a lot of the shops. She was even getting in on some of the town gossip, which was pretty much the strangest gossip on planet Earth. She hurried putting on her shoes and grabbed her things. When she got outside, she found a barefoot boy slumbering on their front porch.
“Oh, my God!” Alyssa yelped, slapping a hand on her chest. “Oh, my God. What is…?”
The strange boy’s eyes popped open, and he was on his feet and lacing up his shoes within just a few seconds. “Oh! Apologies missus ‘uffy! But it is wonderful ya can see us! Innit?”
Alyssa was immediately dumbfounded by these confusing sounds coming from the boy’s mouth. She was over her fright, and now she was just thinking about him. She crouched down and met his eyes. “Oh, my god. Are you all right? Are…are you homeless?”
The boy nodded, conceding. ‘omeless? Ah suppose, ah im.”
Alyssa put a hand on his shoulder. For some reason, she immediately trusted him and wanted to help. “Why don’t you come inside? Would that be okay?”
The boy smiled, awkwardly. He did not understand the question. “Oh’ a ‘kay?”
“Yeah? You want to come in? You don’t have somewhere else to go, right?”
Dickon shook his head, unsure of what to do. Would Mr. Huffy be mad to find him in his house when he woke up? He knew that the man slept in very late. Sometimes several hours past dawn. “Mr. ‘uffy wouldn’t mine?”
Alyssa smiled. “He doesn’t get to mind, okay? Don’t worry about it.”
Dickon nodded. “Orril righ’, then.”
“Okay. What’s your name?”
The boy stood up, tall and proud. More proud than tall. “Dickon, ma’am.”
Alyssa froze. “Dickon?”
“Aye, ‘ow goes it?”
Dickon, suddenly, found Alyssa’s face hard to read. She nodded carefully, then stepped back. “Wait right here for me, would you, Dickon? I’ll be right back.”
Dickon nodded back, more than happy to wait. In fact, he was delighted to be finally meeting Mrs. Huffy. Alyssa disappeared into the house. Dickon heard her feet clomping rapidly up the front staircase. Soon after, the yelling started.
“WAKE UP, PETER! WAKE UP, RIGHT NOW, YOU SON OF A DICK!
Peter bolted right up, shocked into a waking state, to find his wife’s face stuck right in his. Her expression was one that he’d have preferred dealing with at a distance of several miles, or several dimensions. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong!” she yelled, hopping mad. “You hired some boy who speaks Esperanto to dress up and call himself Dickon, and you’re asking me what’s wrong? What the hell’s the matter with you, Peter! This whole thing has been a joke, to you? This whole schizophrenic thing? Making me think you were crazy? It’s just a big joke! How could you be so cruel!”
Peter didn’t know how to deal with her when she was this angry. “Did you just say Esperanto? Wait a minute! Just wait a minute! What boy?”
Alyssa stomped her right foot and jabbed a pointed finger at the door. “You get out of bed, right this second! Do you hear me!”
Peter leaped up onto his feet and grabbed her. “Hey, now! Hey! Hey! Hey!” She struggled in his arms, started smacking his chest to make him let go, just like women did on television. She was starting to erupt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alyssa! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She stopped wrestling with him, running out of steam. Her whole body went slack. She was crying, so he spoke very soothingly in her ear, almost at a whisper. “Just tell me what’s going on? What are you talking about?”
She cried, silently for another minute. Then her arms started to creep around him. Then squeeze him. When she spoke, her voice sounded rough. “You didn’t see some invisible boy. You’re not crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, Alyssa. I swear. I’m not. That’s the truth.”
“This has all been a prank, right? I’m not losing you.”
“You’re not losing me, hon. I swear to god.”
“Swear to god?”
“Swear…to…god. I’ve never been more truthful, than right now. The absolute truth. One hundred percent.”
“I love you so much, Peter. Oh, my god.”
“I love you, too. So much. More than anything.”
It took a minute for Peter to put together what had just happened. Alyssa could see Dickon now, and Dickon was in, or around, the house. He had to do something, he just wasn’t sure what. Alyssa wasn’t going to hear that Dickon was a ghost. He wasn’t going to try to stuff that down her throat, not after what she’d just gone through. He had to handle this delicately.
“I’ll make this up to you, I swear,” Peter said.
“Don’t talk now. I feel so much better. You’ll just say something dumb.”
“Okay.”
“I just…I just. Oh, god. Peter.” She crushed him, clutching Peter like a toddler at its mother’s leg.
“I’m just gonna go downstairs and tell the um…kid that he can go home now.”
“Okay. You do that.”
“I didn’t know, okay? I wouldn’t have done this if I had known what you were going through.”
“I know. I know. Just let me…I gotta lie down.”
They untangled, then Peter walked down to the front door in nothing but his pajama bottoms. Dickon was sitting on the porch steps. When Peter stepped outside, Dickon shot up to his feet, whipped his hat off his head and stood there compliant, his face a picture of repentance. “I’ma sarry, Mr. ‘uffy! Ah shouldn’t av coom aroun’ da ‘ouse! It wor uppity! A didn’t mean ta start ur feight! I’ma sarry! Reeight sarry!”
Peter shook his head, he touched Dickon on the shoulders. It calmed the boy down, a little. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dickon. All right? You’ve got nothing to be sarry about. All right? Everything’s fine.”
“But Mrs. ‘uffy! She wor ‘ollerin at tha ‘cuz o’ us!”
“Not because of you. Okay? Not because of you. You don’t need to worry about this, or feel bad. We’re just going to have to give my wife a little space for a while. This magic stuff isn’t for everyone. All right?”
“Give’ er space, ya seh?” Dickon asked, a little puzzled.
“That’s right. This town and all the weird stuff that’s going on, it takes a while for people to get used to it. I didn’t think you were real, either, remember? So let’s just give her a little time. A little space. Okay?”
“Bur Mrs. ‘uffy’s reight thar, behin’ ya,” Dickon replied, pointing at the front door with his floppy hat. Peter turned around and his wife was standing in the jamb. The look on her face showed that her rage was catching its second wind. She tamped it down for the boy’s sake.
“Peter,” she said coolly. There was a tacit ‘just you wait until later, jerk’ in it. “I can’t believe you are still playing games with this child. What is the matter with you? Is he really homeless, Peter? What am I thinking? Of course, he isn’t. You wouldn’t be exploiting a homeless child.”
Peter nodded. “Thank you for thinking that.”
”Where do you live, Dickon?” She walked around the corner and came back with her purse in her hand. “I’m going to drive you there, right this second. Get in the car, would you, Dickon?”
“You said you wanted to lie down,” Peter tossed in.
“Later, Peter. Later. Come on, Dickon.”
Dickon got all excited, his eyes grew wild. “Do ah get tuh ride inna automobile, Mrs. ‘uffy?”
“Yes, I’m taking you home.”
All the shame the boy had been harboring was forgotten as his youthful enthusiasm overtook him. Dickon was more than ready. “Well, ‘at ‘ould be just...” He spun around and leaped down the steps…and vanished.
Both Alyssa and Peter had been looking right at the boy when he dissipated in a blur. Both, now, stared directly at the spot where he'd never landed. Alyssa was, particularly, dumbfounded. She pushed past her husband and ran down the porch steps, then she stood turning in place on the gravel. “Peter!” she yelled, throwing out her arms, confused and desperate.
Peter leaned back in the door jamb, then yawned like a lazy cat. “He can disappear and reappear, I guess,” he said. Alyssa was at a loss for words, though. Her astonished eyes fixed on his, demanding an answer. Peter just shrugged and scratched his belly. “What do you want me to say, Lyssie? I’m sorry?”
Around noon, Derek turned up at the Huffy’s house. The boy looked like he’d been awake for a month. His face was pale, his eyes were heavy. Peter was rocking and watching over the breadth of his domain from the upper deck. Derek waved. Peter thought he looked sick, even from afar. Peter stood up and walked to the railing. “Who goes there? State your name and business!” Peter yelled.
He was acting unusually positive this morning. Even though his wife had cloistered herself in their room, Peter was trying to be relieved that it had happened. She’d walked away from him when he tried to talk to her. In her defense, she’d just seen her first disapparition, something she didn’t think happened. All in an instant, it had gone from being a world where people didn’t disappear to one where people do, and it didn’t help that her husband had already known. So, all in all, it had been an above average morning in terms of stress.
Derek was his usual understated self and didn’t know how to respond. “Um…I just…”
“Oh, it’s you! I know you!” Peter interrupted. “I left the moat open! Just go on in!”
“Yeah, okay,” Derek called. He walked up the steps and Peter came bouncing down the front door and whipped it open.
“The moat’s tricky, been sticking all morning. Come on in!” Peter was delighted to have another person in the house. Alyssa was being eerily quiet and he needed to get his mind off of it before he started to lose that mind. Peter cut the boy off before he asked how she was. “The wife has retired to her chambers. Can I get you anything?”
Derek shook his head. “I don’t need anything.”
Peter wagged a finger at the boy. “Refusing hospitality is very rude.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Did you walk here?”
“Yes.”
“Then sit down, at least, since you won’t allow me to be a host in my own manor,” Peter suggested.
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s one of those days, you know? Does it feel like ‘one of those days’ to you, too, kiddo?” Peter asked.
Derek nodded. “Yeah. It does.”
So the two of them, mostly Peter, bantered for a while. Derek did a lot of nodding and mm-hmming. “Is Mrs. Huffy sick?” Derek asked.
“It's Alyssa. No, she just needs a break. She was up late.”
“Oh, did you hear what happened in town?”
Peter’s eyebrows popped up. “Something happened? We’re kind of out of it, you know? What happened?”
Derek suddenly darkened. “Someone was killed, I think. Maybe more,” Derek said, the words barely getting out.
“My God,” Peter said. “How?”
For a second, Derek couldn’t say it. “Animal attack.”
“Animal attack?” Peter repeated. “What kind of animal?”
Derek had a hard time answering, though. Peter could see something peculiar in the boy’s face. “Bears, they said. They said it was bears. My mom’s shop was sort of destroyed. I found out when she got me up this morning.”
“Jeez,” Peter said, treading carefully. “It wasn’t bears, though, was it?”
“My mom is in town, right now, with the police. No, it wasn’t bears.”
Peter was shaken. “Something else? What? Moose? I wonder why Velma didn’t call. She usually calls.” Peter was wondering why they were playing this game of non-disclosure. They both knew what kind of animal.
“There’s no moose in Pennsylvania. Not anymore.”
“Yeah, I knew that. They wrecked your mom’s store, huh? All that furniture that was gonna be mine, someday? I’m sorry, kid.”
It seemed that Derek was not amenable to this topic. “She has insurance and stuff. It’ll take some time, but we’re okay.”
“Well, thank God,” Peter added. Derek could tell something had changed about him, though. Something when Derek mentioned animals. He started making something. “Coffee or tea?” Peter asked, assuming the boy would partake now.
“Tea.”
Peter started a pot of dessert tea. The boy was evading something, and he was evading something. Peter wondered if they were evading the same thing. It was as evident to Peter now as much as the boy's exhaustion. The whole experience of conversation was blossoming into something far deeper. I enjoyed conversation a lot more before this affinity thing. How do I turn this thing off? I’m seeing ghosts now, like that kid in that ‘Sixth Sense’ movie. You have to talk to ghosts to get rid of them. It would take some getting used to.
“What else?” Peter asked, his back turned to Derek and the barn-colored kitchen table.
Derek’s face wrinkled up. “Pardon?”
“I mean, what besides bears and moose? It killed some poor person and it wrecked your mom’s place. What did?”
“I don’t know,” Derek said, a little weakly.
“Why aren’t you with your mom?” Peter turned around. “Doesn’t she need you now, Derek?” Peter asked. He was getting emotional for some reason, though. Even angry. His emotions were beginning to boil. Something was happening, like when he’d jumped off the deck.
Derek shrugged. “No. I don’t know.”
Peter knew that the boy knew a lot, so he was lying about a lot of things, and it upset him for some reason. What a hypocrite! How much am I lying about? The boy, at least, has being a child as an excuse. Something was happening inside him, though, and he didn't think he could stop it. It was rushing up his throat and was going to force its way out. Such were the problems he’d been having almost daily. His decent mood fell apart, then Peter just let it all out. He couldn’t hold it in, anymore. “And why not? Are you avoiding your mom because you’re like me? Because we’re a couple of wackjobs regular people don’t need to be around? We lie to everyone we care about, all day long? Is that why you’re here? I’m the only one horrible enough to keep you company?”
Derek was startled for just a moment. His face frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. Then he sank his face into his bandaged arms on the table, and he started to cry.
Peter turned away and continued preparing the tea. He didn't want to believe he'd just bit the kid's head off like that. He didn't want to be the kind of person who'd do what he just did. He was losing his mind. His emotions were soaring out of control. He had an idea where it was coming from, though. Is this what 'expanding your geography means'? That I'm going to be a huge asshole? He wanted to hold his hand over the stove top and burn himself as punishment. “I didn’t get you when we met, kid. I didn’t get you, at all. But I do now. I’ve been through it. Since we haven’t been telling the truth to everyone else, let's, at least, say it to each other. So why don’t you dry off and tell me everything, okay?”
Derek avoided Peter’s eyes when he brought the tea a few minutes later. Peter put the cup in front of the boy and sat down on the other side of the table. “Might be a little sweet.”
“It’s fine,” Derek said.
“I'll make it the way you want.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
It was quiet for a couple of minutes. Derek, having harbored certain secrets for so long, was only going to have a hard time speaking of them. He still was not sure if Peter and he were on the same page. “That day by the woods…” Derek said.
“Yeah?” said Peter, looking up from his tea.
“I…” Derek paused for a long time.
“Go on.”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“By the woods is a good place. To start, I mean.”
“I didn’t tell you the truth. I didn’t know if I could.” The boy almost sounded like he was pleading.
“I wouldn’t have believed you, Derek.” Peter looked the boy over. He was still avoiding his eyes. “How long has all this been on you?”
Derek faced Peter, but he looked down. “A while.”
“What happened last night? Do you know? Are you okay to talk about it?”
Derek took a long, deep breath.
“It’s okay, kid,” said Peter.
Derek nodded. “I know.”
An hour of remarkable candor passed as Peter listened to the boy’s story. A lot of what Derek said was familiar territory to him. Monsters. Magic. Lying. Guilt. Excuses. It was all there. As he spoke, Peter could feel a sense of relief projected from the boy. How long has he been carrying this all by himself? When Derek finished saying most of what he was willing to say, they sat there quietly pondering these things that were now out in the open. Eventually, Peter shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to all of this. Hearing you say some of this stuff out loud…it just…I can’t believe this is real.”
“You understand, though, Mr. Huffy?”
“Peter’s fine, Derek. Really.”
“Okay,” the boy replied.
Peter sat back in his chair. “Understand what, Derek? What do you mean?”
“I mean, about the Bunyine.”
“I get it, yeah. It can’t die, right? That’s bad.”
“But you get what happened, right? Why he is what he is? It’s not his fault.”
This statement sounded strange in Peter’s ears. It was that unexpected. “Why does that matter? Why does it matter why he’s like that? He’s like that. I don’t care why.”
“I know, but…”
“Hey, Derek, let’s not worry about the monster. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I have to protect my wife. That’s all that I care about. She’s probably gonna leave me after all this.”
Derek groaned, upset. “Don’t say that, Peter. Please don’t say that. She’s not gonna leave you.”
“But that doesn’t matter now. Her safety is what matters. Hers, yours, and mine.”
“It just…”
“It just what?”
“It just suffered so much, Peter. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t get it out of my mind, what it went through.”
Peter was starting to get a little miffed at Derek’s continually reminding him that monsters had feelings. Who thought like this? It occurred to him that he was seeing, perhaps, his future. Derek’s been living with this affinity thing since birth. He’s probably light-years ahead of me in the sympathy/empathy department. Am I going to be like this someday? Helplessly merciful? Second-guessing everything I did? Hurting for the people who wanted to hurt me.?
Looking at the boy, Peter could see that Derek was going through things that most kids don’t have to. Distressed over matters of life and death. The boy’s sallow face was a testament to how overburdened he was. Heck, this might be an evolutionary thing. This could be how everyone is someday. Wouldn’t it be a better world if we suffered for everyone, like Derek did? We wouldn’t hurt each other, anymore. We would be like those benign aliens in sci-fi. The kind who’ve left behind all violence to concentrate on anal probes. What about his wife? That hideous thing in the woods had threatened her. It had made promises. Peter felt his sympathy erode. His fangs glinted. His claws extended. Alyssa needed him to be an animal. So he would be an animal. If blood needs to be spilled, if that’s what that damn cat wants, then, by God, I’ll be the one who spills it, first.
Peter slapped the table. Derek gasped with surprise. “Derek, I couldn’t care less about the damn Bunyine! It’s a thing that kills things! It kills people! You don’t get to matter when you kill people! You don’t count anymore in the world of feelings! You’re out when you start murdering people. You get that?”
Derek nodded meekly. “I get it, yeah. It’s just…”
Peter stood up. He was just getting angrier, and he couldn’t help it. His head was whirling, chaos reigned. He prepared himself for another outburst, even though he didn’t want to have one. Derek didn’t deserve it. “It wants to kill your mom, Derek! It wants to kill you! That should matter to you more! It wants to kill my…” Peter stopped, suddenly unable to speak. He wasn’t sure he could even say it, but it had to be said, and accepted. It was his reality now. “It wants to kill my wife. You get that? Don’t you?”
Derek looked ashamed. “Yes. I get it.”
“Good! So don’t tell me monsters have feelings! Don’t…” Peter froze mid-sentence.
“Are you, okay?” Derek asked.
Peter wasn’t okay, though. For a moment, he’d seen the Bunyine devouring his wife. He’d been imagining it, he couldn’t help it, and then he saw it. It was like he’d been standing there, a nightmare unfolding before his eyes. When it was over, he realized it had been just a couple of seconds, but it was the worst moment of his life. He’d read that when you use more of your brain, time seems slower. I have to get control of this thing going on in my head. It carries me away. It's taking over. It's turning me into an asshole, too, and I don't want to be an asshole.
“Peter?” Derek asked, again, concerned.
Peter snapped out of it. “I know you love your mom, Derek, but you don’t understand what it’s like having a wife, okay? You just don’t. Nothing else matters to me, but Alyssa. If I have to choose one thing in the whole world to care about, it’s her! Do you understand?”
“Okay, Mr. Huffy,” Derek said. "She's not going to leave you, though."
"What? Why...?" Peter almost snapped, again. He forced the emotions down, spoke the words with ease. "Why did you say that?"
"You're worried about her leaving. She's not."
Another pause. Another baby tantrum withheld. He was improving, already. "And how do you know that?"
"I know things."
Peter nodded. "Yeah, I know you do. Me, too. I know what you mean. About knowing things."
"Then you know how she feels. Like my mom loved my dad. She still does. It's like that."
Peter shook his head, not willing to be reasonable, yet. "I just don't, know Derek. I just don't know. I'm feeling too much. I feel like I'm going to explode, sometimes."
"You're just mixed up. I get like that, too. You’ll learn how to deal with it. It doesn’t have to change who you are."
"I'm not mixed up, I'm screwed up."
"It's like that sometimes."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "You do know what I'm talking about, right?"
"Yeah."
"Affinity?"
Derek nodded. "Affinity? Is that what you call it? That's a good word for it."
"Douglas told me."
Derek's face was like a sail suddenly catching wind. "Wow. I didn't expect that. How much do you know?"
"A lot."
Peter got comfortable and told Derek everything. It was his turn. Just like Derek had felt, some of the weight of the world lifted from Peter's shoulders. For a moment, anyway. There was still a lot of world left.
"Jeez," said Derek. "We've both seen him, now."
"Yeah, and he probably doesn't like it a whole lot."
"I got a feeling, last night, that he wanted to kill me, even before the story was done."
"Why would he want to kill you? Because you knew too much? You could tell people?"
"I can’t feel him like I do people. He’s too…something."
"It makes no sense, what it did last night. Why did it put itself in danger like that?"
"I think it got carried away. Caught up in the hunt. I think it doesn’t get to eat very often." Derek's face darkened.
The boy's sorrow struck Peter like a fist. It was more than sorrow, though. It was guilt. It was confusion. It was horror. It was pain. It was almost every terrible thing a person could feel, all at once. How is he still in one piece? The kid is made of steel.
Derek's mouth opened to speak, but he couldn't say what he was feeling. "I..."
"What?"
"I used to think Sparkle was special."
"It is. It's about the most special place on Earth."
"No. That's not what I mean. Not exactly, I guess. I used to think it was good. I used to think it was perfect here. "
"Nothing's perfect. Not people. Not love. Not Sparkle. Not life."
"Yeah, I know," said Derek. The tone was sad, but there was something underneath it, something that brought the boy's smile back with no trouble. Peter, could tell a little what the boy was thinking about. It was family. Friends. It was life and the future. All the things people forget are the best things. This boy, unlike most, understood that, and it showed in his grin. "But some things get pretty close."