Up High in the Trees (4 page)

I make up a song:

Dead, dead, dead

Sorry, Mother

Sorry, Mother, that you are dead

Don't be sad

Don't be sad that you are dead.

I sing the song to myself.

Cass puts her hand on my leg. In my head, the song won't stop. I close my eyes.

You'll be okay, Cass tells me.

Mother got married on a sunny day. She married Dad outside in the grass and the grass kept making her sneeze. Her eyes were watery and sad, but it was because of her allergies, she said. Cass was already there, inside of her stomach. Mother could feel the baby kicking inside her the whole time. The baby kicked until Mother kissed Dad and then the baby stopped kicking.

Where was I? I asked Mother.

You were up there in the trees, Mother said.

Now I remember sitting up high in the trees. I was happy and I kept jumping from one tree to another and the branches scraped my arms and legs when I jumped and landed, and jumped and landed. I had scratches all over. I could see the red scratches, but I couldn't feel them because I wasn't really me yet. I was just a part of Mother floating up in the trees.

Hello, Cass says, earth to Sebby?

I can't answer. She pulls the car over to the side of the road and we stop. Everything stops, but in my head the song about Mother keeps going.
Don't be sad that you are dead
. Cass puts her cold hand on my cheek and turns my face to look at her. She holds still and I hold still. Then Cass smiles because she's going to tickle me. I know she's going to tickle me. I count in my head. One, two, three. I'm ready. But then Cass jumps in her seat and I scream. She tickles under my arms and all over. I laugh until I run out of air. Cass is laughing, too. I'm kicking and trying to wiggle loose, but Cass holds on tight.

Okay, okay, she says and she stops. You're a good boy, she tells me.

I move back over to my seat. I'm tired. The inside of my mouth is dry like I just woke up.

Cass gets out of the car to smoke a cigarette. She leans against the door, so all I can see is her back and the smoke twisting up. Cass says that she smokes because it gives her time to think.

Straight ahead, the empty white sky gets brighter. I look down at my lap, but the white sky glow stays and makes me see glowing spots all over. It's true that the sun can make you blind if you look at it for too long. I close my eyes tight and think about how the sun fills up the whole sky with light. Then my head is quiet and there's the sound of trees growing,
stretching up and up. The trees are growing and making everything else small.

Cass opens the door and gets back in.

Sebby? she asks. Are you sleeping?

I don't say anything. Cass smells like smoke.

You're a good boy, she says again.

Cass drives and we blow past the trees. They say, Shhhhhhh. I let the trees put me to sleep.

Grandmother Bernie locked the windows shut and in the summer, her air conditioner kept breaking, so the air in her house got heavy and dirty-tasting. It made Mother dizzy. She fell asleep on the couch and Dad had to clap his hands on her cheeks to wake her up. After that, Dad put in a ceiling fan.

I lay on my back under the fan. I could make my eyes follow just one blade around and around and then the fan looked like it was slowing down. But Grandmother Bernie wanted me to sit on her lap always. She held me close like a baby and hummed with the fan. You couldn't hear the fan unless you listened for it. Grandmother Bernie hummed and held me close, so I could hear her voice humming inside her chest. It sounded like a motor deep down in the ocean.

Let him go play, Mother would say, he's not a baby anymore.

When we stayed the night, Grandmother Bernie made me sleep in the crib with the cold, plastic mattress that crinkled.

The crib was in Grandmother Bernie's room next to her closet. She left the closet light on for a nightlight. I could count all her shoes, stacked up high in clear plastic shoe boxes with ugly, green-colored lids. Cass and I would sneak into her room during the day and Cass read me the names of all the shoe boxes, so I knew them in my head. Beige Heel, Black Aerosoles, Pink/Orange Flat, Brown Suede Tassel.

Grandmother Bernie said good night and fell asleep just like that. Her snores came out like whistles.

She asked me once why I crawled out the window. Mother was helping her make a broccoli casserole that smelled like cheese, and I was sitting on the counter watching.

I don't remember why, I said.

Mother's face got red and angry.

It was an accident, Mother said. Her eyes were watery and she turned away.

Louise, Grandmother Bernie said. She put her hand on Mother's back.

I wake up a little bit. We're still in the car, driving. Cass's window is open and the car feels windy, cold and empty. I want her to pull over so the wind and cold and everything will stop. I have to pee so bad it hurts. I don't think I can hold it.

Cass, I say. My voice sounds scratchy and asleep. I can feel my throat getting tight and then I'm crying.

Sebby, Cass says, what is it? She pulls the car over to the side of the road.

I unlock my door and run out. I have to jump over the rail where the road stops and then I run and slide down the gravel and dirt into the trees. I can't get my zipper down. I'm crying and it's hard to see. My fingers are still asleep. I shake out my hands and try the zipper again and then it works. My pee comes out fast and quiet. Cass keeps calling my name. I can hear her coming, looking for me. I don't say anything. I watch how the dirt soaks up my pee.

Cass grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard.

What's wrong? Cass asks.

I tell her I had to pee. I thought I was going to have an accident and I couldn't say the words. There wasn't enough time to say the words. My face is wet and cold. I can feel my nose running and it tickles above my lip.

Did you have a bad dream? Cass asks me. She wipes my face with the red scarf and takes my hand. I let her pull me back to the car.

Cass drives and it's quiet except I can't stop sniffling.

Where are we going? I ask her.

To visit Emma, Cass says.

Emma quit school and moved far away to grow bees and make honey at a farm. Now she has a baby girl.

I don't want to see Emma.

When I'm old enough to drive the green car, I will go all the way to Disney World in Florida. Mother took us for a vacation once and she bought me a puzzle of how the states fit together so I could see where we were driving. There is also a Disneyland in California, but that is so far away. And now there's a Euro Disney in Paris that opened on April 12. You can't drive there. You have to fly in an airplane. Leo saved the Disney World map of where all the rides are and he circled the best ones in yellow. It's in his desk drawer.

I'm hungry, I tell Cass.

Okay, she says, we'll be there soon. Cass reaches over to get a tape out of the glove compartment. The tape is black with a white label that says,
THE CLASH LONDON CALLING FOR CASS XOXO A
. The letters are tall and skinny and red. Cass pushes in the tape. Her mouth moves and makes all the words to the song, but her voice doesn't come out or maybe she's just whispering the words. I don't know who A is.

A
is for Alexander, like Uncle Alexander. He was Mother's brother and then he died of cancer. I remember Uncle Alexander playing tennis in white shorts and socks pulled all the way up.

I was in the guest bedroom looking at the shells in their glass case. I like to take the shells out and then put them back in a different way, sometimes from smallest to biggest or sometimes from lightest to darkest.

I couldn't find you, Mother said. Uncle Alexander is dead, she whispered.

I kept taking the shells out. I thought about Uncle Alexander playing tennis.

Mother told him, You look ridiculous when you run, it's like you're dancing.

In my head, I tried to see Uncle Alexander in regular clothes, but I couldn't. I took out the littlest shell and stared at it.

Well, Mother said and looked up.

I looked up, too.

I'm lost, she said to the ceiling.

Then I looked at her face. I didn't understand.

Can you see that? she asked and pointed up. A bird, she said.

I could see it, too, in the white-frosting paint. The shape like a bird with its wings spread out.

Mother left me with the shells. I put them back in the case from quietest to loudest and that was almost the same as smallest to biggest.