()()()
Tap tap. Tap tap.
The room was quiet, except for the tapping of Arista’s pink nails on the edge of her chair. Every few seconds, tap tap. Like a clock, a chime, or a little pink doorbell. Caroline could read the impatience on Arista’s face, words in the frown lines and the fidgeting feet, the frustrated eyes. As if her world was about to fall apart. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“That’s not helping,” Julie announced.
James and Jim nodded. One of them was on tiptoe, fiddling with the wires. The other was pushing buttons and asking questions.
“This thing was supposed to be over by five,” Arista muttered. “The microphones were supposed to work, Julie was supposed to have written everything down, she was supposed to have finished talking,” she gestured hopelessly at Caroline.
“My name is Caroline,” Caroline said.
“Yes. I know.” Arista hissed, tangling her fingers in her hair, pulling out pieces. “Dammit,” she said, quietly. It sounded like she was about to cry. “I broke a nail.”
James/Jim announced, “Everything’s ready. You can start.”
Arista nodded, sitting up straight and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Ok. Caroline, are you ready?”
Julie shook her head. “Arista, stop. You’re about to cry. We can just wait a few minutes.”
“No.” Arista said. “I’m fine. Caroline, are you ready?”
Caroline nodded.
()()()
Candy-Cat carefully placed her paws on the ground. Then she waited, perfectly still, breathing softly, staring at the little pig. He was so close, only a few leaps away.
He was snuffling around in the moldy leaves. Just there. So close. If Candy-Cat had longer arms, or if she was a dog instead of a little cat, she could have reached him. But she only had her tiny claws and her tiny teeth, so she had to be stealthy, and she had to be fast. She had to wait.
“Patience.”
The sun was red and angry, like a fat tomato. The wind ruffled her fur, tore a leaf from a branch, whistled through the trees. A bird landed on the ground behind her. Candy-Cat stood completely still. She didn’t even twitch an ear. All she did was watch and wait. All she was was a shadow on the ground. All she wanted was to stay here and melt into the earth. Seconds didn’t matter, Minutes and passing rays of sun. Time didn’t exist as long as she waited and watched, as long as she stayed here and didn’t move.
And Candy-Cat watched, and waited. Still as a stone. A leaf. A tree. She almost hissed as her claws dug into the earth and her tail and whiskers twisted up into branches. Leaves sprouted out of her ears, her nose became a bright red berry, her legs shriveled up into little roots. The hiss choked and died in her throat. For a moment she felt panic, anchored there in the ground, a tree. But the little pig snuffled closer, and Candy-Tree waited and watched, leaves rustling.
The pig was digging in the ground. He was rolling in the dirt. He was kicking in the leaves. He was scratching his back on a rock.
He waddled right past the tree, and suddenly Candy-Cat was back. She hissed. Her body was like a snake, her teeth were venomous fangs and her eyes were yellow. Candy-Cat-Snake leaped. The sky twisted around, the sun twirled like a ballerina. Clouds and trees and dirt and pigs. Somehow Candy-Cat-Snake’s hands closed around the little pig’s leg.
Her leg snapped at the same time. Candy screamed and cried and clenched her fists around the pig’s leg. The pig squealed and screamed, kicking uselessly in the dirt. It bit Candy’s fingers but she didn’t notice. Her ankle was on fire.
Suddenly there were hands. On her face and around her waist and grabbing her arms, prying her fingers away from the pig’s leg. Someone said something, but Candy couldn’t hear because she was crying too loudly. The person leaned down and looked into her eyes. Two people. Three? Then she started floating. No, wait, they were carrying her. Where was the pig? Ouch. OWWW.
They carried her back home.
()()()
“Pay attention,” Caroline said. “That pig’s going to be important.” She took a sip of water from a mug on the table.
Arista snorted and tried to cover it with a cough. “The pig?” she asked. “Really?” Julie glanced at them, and rolled her eyes.
“Of course,” Caroline said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned it.” She set the mug back down. Cleared her throat. Hands in her lap, big smile. “Shall we begin again?”
Julie nodded. James/Jim gave two thumbs up. James/Jim smiled.
Arista scratched her nose. “By the way, Caroline, I’m sorry about my outburst earlier,” she said, stiffly, like a piece of paper was forced down her throat.
Outburst? More like a temper tantrum. “No, it’s… fine,” she said, robotically.
Arista nodded at Caroline, at Julie, at the camera. “O… Kay.” She breathed. A phone vibrated. No one answered it.
()()()
Her leg looked like an ear of corn. All wrapped up in bandages, tightly wound and braided back and forth. It made a little pattern of diamonds, like corn kernels. Only, probably not very good to eat. Her leg felt stiff and sore and bruised and broken. It felt like a piece of wood attached to her thigh. She probably couldn’t move it, so she didn’t try.
The butterflies flying around it looked like flies if you squinted, but without squinting you could see their beautiful orange wings. One of them wandered away and landed on Candy’s hand, which made her giggle. It tickled.
Someone whispered in her ear. Hello, they said, light as a feather. Right in her ear, their lips touching her hair. Their voice reminded her of mermaids and fairies and things that were not real. It felt like wind. It felt like sky. Candy laughed, crazy. Crazy, she was crazy. There was no one there.
Hello, they said, again. The butterflies floated around like little leaves or little lights. Some of them landed on her leg, some on her hand, a few on her face. She didn’t feel any of them, they were like feathers. Hello.
“Hello,” Candy whispered. Laughing. Oh, she was going insane. There was a pounding in her ears and in her blood. Waves on a beach. Thunder in the sky. Like Mr. Sun’s hammer. Pounding pain, pain that she couldn’t feel. But she knew it was there. It would drown out the voice and the butterflies and then she would fall asleep.
The voice became more urgent. Candy. Candy.
Candy giggled. It felt like someone was in the room, standing right behind her, whispering her name. She turned her head and laughed when she saw the blank wall. The room was empty, completely empty, except for the crazy creature in her mind. Candy.
Butterflies. Sweet, soft, butterflies. They flew and twirled for her. Candy. Ballerinas. Candy.
“What?” Candy shouted at the empty room. The butterflies scattered, fell. Through the window Candy could see the field of grass, the woods, the river. She could see a huge tree towering above the rest. She could feel its voice like goosebumps of insanity on her skin.
Candy. Come and see me. I want to talk to you.
Pounding in her ears. Pounding in her head. Pounding in her heart. She was a drum, she was just a big flat drum. Pounding in her shoulders, arms, hands, fingertips. She looked at her hands and saw them shudder. Her fingers trembling.
“Later,” she whispered, crazy, and fell asleep.
()()()
There were never any butterflies.
Davey told her. “Candy,” he had said. “You’re imagining things. There were never any butterflies.”
Yes, it made sense. The window had been closed. And besides, who had ever heard of butterflies that looked like leaves? But some part of her had seen them, and felt them on her skin. Butterflies. And some part of her had heard the whisper in the room, but she didn’t talk about that. Or the tree.
But if crazy things didn’t exist, then how did people think of mermaids, and fairies, and magic? Did fire-breathing dragons just hatch in someone’s mind? Or it was all real… and the stories and the truths climbed up and up and up until they reached the clouds and were called crazy.
But when Candy looked out the window there was no tree there, and you have to believe your eyes.
()()()
“You… didn’t think that when you were eleven. About the dragons. No one thinks that when they’re eleven,” Arista muttered. “People believe in dragons, when they’re eleven.”
Caroline shrugged. “Maybe that was just you.”
Julie set down her salad, loudly, with a clank on the metal table, and cleared her throat louder. Where had she gotten the salad? And the metal table?
Arista made a show of looking at her obnoxious nails, touching the broken one, ignoring what Caroline had said.
The lights made Caroline squint.
The silence was awful.
()()()
Jordan put the stinking bowl of Fish Thing on the table. She felt Candy’s forehead, brushed her hair out of her eyes, rubbed her leg a bit, and left. As if she was Candy’s mom, taking care of her while she was sick. Candy yelled a quick goodbye after her, but Jordan didn’t turn around.
Thanksgiving was in a few days, after all, and Jordan loved holidays. She loved the long table full of food, the crisp autumn air, the friendship and love of family all gathered together, and other stupid stuff like that. She needed time to get everything ready, so she couldn’t be constantly watching over her sister.
Candy reached awkwardly for the bowl, her useless leg dragging along with her. She poked at Fish Thing with the fork. It squished ominously, so she put it back. The clock ticked, ticked, ticked. The air smelled like metal. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions, closing her eyes.
Something licked her face.
Candy sputtered, rubbing her face with her sleeve. She opened her eyes to a pink snout right in front of her eyes. The pig snorted, and Davey laughed. “Elephant likes you!”
“Elephant?” Candy asked, laughing when the pig snorted again. “You named him Elephant?”
“Of course!” Davey said. “Look at how big his ears are!” Davey held Elephant’s ears out, and the pig snorted approvingly. Candy fell back against the cushions, laughing.
“He wanted to come and see you, and tell you that he’s sorry about your leg,” Davey said, putting his hands around Elephant’s head and making him nod up and down. “I’m sorry!” Davey yelled in a high-pitched, squeaky, Elephant voice.
“I forgive you,” Candy said, stroking Elephant’s head. He was mostly bald, but he had a little fuzz of fur on the top of his head and snout. It was so soft, like a carpet made of tiny feathers. She hugged him to her chest and felt his little heart beat. “I love him,” she whispered.
“He’s yours,” Davey said. “You can love him as much as you want.”
Candy lifted Elephant off of her chest and gave him back to Davey. “No…” she said. “Tell Jordan that… well, we can’t survive on just fish. Maybe when he gets older she’ll want to make pork chops.” Candy blinked. Blinked again.
Davey nodded. “I should go help Jordan,” he said. He kissed her on the forehead, hugged Elephant to his chest, and left. She listened to his footsteps until they disappeared. She wished he could have stayed.
Candy took a deep breath, and held it. Waited until she was ready. Then she grabbed her leg with both hands and pulled it to the edge of the bed, gritting her teeth, bracing for pain. She pushed herself up against the table, standing on one leg, holding the edge with white knuckled hands. She let out her breath.
She looked for a cane, for a crutch, for something to hold onto. A strip of wood, a shelf, a chair. Anything. She stood on tiptoe, grabbed the curtain rod, threw the curtain onto the table, took her blanket, and limped out of her room.
Out the door.
Down the hill.
And she stood on the edge of the sea of grass, and looked at all the places she couldn’t go. She couldn’t climb the trees. She couldn’t swim through the sea. She couldn’t race with Davey. She couldn’t pretend to be a cat and catch pigs.
But she could walk.
So Candy waded into the water. It pooled around her feet, and they sunk into the sand. The wind bent the ocean into waves here, the sun shone silver behind the clouds. She could skip rocks and built castles, or watch the waves. She could stand here and look. She could be a fair maiden with wind-swept hair, standing on the edge of the sea. Or a furious tiger, prowling along the beach, splashing up water with its great black paws. She could be a fish, a mermaid, a prince, a shark. She could have a house built of gold on the edge of the water, filling the ocean with dust.
Anything but the little girl with the ruined leg, all huddled in a blanket, looking at the grass, wishing she could swim.
It wasn’t fair.
Candy picked up a rock and threw it. Skipping stones. She hoped it hit something, and she hoped it hurt. But she never even heard it fall.
The sun disappeared and the clouds took over the sky. Stars started to glitter through them, and Candy wished they would fall and die. She wanted to scream at them, like a wolf, howling at the moon.
Once Jordan had told her about her mother’s sunset, but that was gone now. Now there were just stupid clouds and stupid shiny stars.
Candy picked up a rock. She picked up an acorn. A pinecone. A branch. She hurled them all into the storming sea. Foam sprayed up against the cliffs when she closed her eyes. Ships were tossed about by the waves, sails were ripped from the masts and painted the water white, like ribbons. The wind was screaming at the sea, and the trees were struck by lightning, and the people all drowned. She stood with feet in the water and sky in her hair, and then she swam.
Candy shut her eyes tight. In that world she could run and jump and walk. In this world all that she could do was limp. But the sea in her mind was gone now. Her thoughts had dissolved it into the air. So Candy opened her eyes. The sea of grass waved at her. She turned and hobbled back inside.
()()()
“Beautiful imagery, but we don’t have that kind of budget.”
“Hmm?” Caroline asked.
“For huge ships getting struck by lightning,” Arista said. “We don’t have the money for that. In the movie. Come on, surely you can remember past a couple hours? The movie?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Good. Anyway, it’s time for a question.” Arista settled back in her chair, fiddled with her skirt for a moment, smiled, and asked the camera, “What was ‘your mother’s sunset,’ Caroline?”
()()()
Mother’s Sunset.
I was sitting outside with Jordan. We were watching the sunset, but we couldn’t really see it and it’s wasn’t very remarkable. Red, grey, a little bit of orange. Soon it had faded to a yellow smear on the horizon.
Then, out of the blue, she said, “Mom told me that the sunset used to be beautiful. She could see every color of the rainbow from her window. But it must have left when she did.”
I nodded, but didn’t speak. There was nothing else to say.
()()()
“That’s it,” Caroline said. “That’s the story.” Shrugged.
Arista took a sip of water. “Well… we won’t be including that.”
Julie’s pencil stabbed through her paper. She scowled. “Jim, ‘nother pencil.” She held out her hand. Jim rooted around for a pencil, and Julie’s scowl increased every second she couldn’t scribble on her precious clipboard.
Caroline’s phone buzzed.
“Text?” Arista asked, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” Caroline glanced at it and set it back down.
“All right,” Arista muttered. She stood up and clapped. “That’s a wrap, folks! I’m gonna go get some coffee.” She marched out of the room.
Candy was left sitting on the couch alone, her mind lost in thought.
ns 18.68.41.148da2
